SNIPPET: "Immunity"
This is a snippet from the 24 fanfic I'm currently working on for the 2x5obsessions challenge, for the "reversed roles" prompt. I'm posting the first part because I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, to be honest. I've drafted three different ways for this story to begin, started it over about four times, and here I am now, still unsure about it.
In this scene, Hamri Al-Assad (who is director of the FBI in DC, how's THAT for a reversed role XD) is yoinked out of bed in the middle of the night when some crazy shit goes down at HQ. How will Assad handle the situation? And more importantly, WHO is he sleeping with??!!
I don't even know anymore, guys, seriously. XDDD HALP.
The situation had begun late the previous night, bordering on what could be considered early morning. Just after midnight, an analyst down in Intel had stumbled across a red-flagged email during a routine data sweep--one that alluded to a potential threat to the President. In a matter of minutes, the typically dead Gamma Shift at FBI HQ was transformed into an all-out war zone.
This was the manner in which Special Agent Assad’s regrettably long day began.
Just before one, the cell phone Assad reserved for work-related emergencies vibrated loudly on the nightstand, pulling him from the loose grip of half-heavy sleep. Assad was, by nature, not a deep sleeper. He supposed that came with the job territory; being director of the DC branch of the Bureau, he would be the first one to be called in during any time of major crisis. Under normal circumstances, Riker, Assad’s deputy agent, was more than capable of handling general management duties during overnight shift. The fact that he was calling now, according to the caller ID, certainly didn’t bode well.
Assad reached for the phone, flipping it open.
“This is Assad,” he answered.
“Sir, it’s Riker. Sorry to disturb you at such an ungodly hour.”
“I sincerely hope you have a good reason,” replied Assad, only half-joking. He rose from bed, extracting himself carefully so as to not rouse the individual sleeping beside him, and padded around the corner to the bathroom. “What’s going on, Will?”
“Well, sir, we have a bit of a situation. Intel may have uncovered a potential plot to assassinate the President.” Assad drew in a sharp breath involuntarily.
“That could be a problem. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be down there as soon as I can.”
“Yes, sir. Should I phone the White House and let them know?”
“Wait on it. I don’t think we need to disturb the President just yet.”
“All right. See you soon.” He ended the call and walked back to the bedroom. With a pang of guilt, he saw the light was now on, and the ruggedly handsome man who occupied the bed was now awake, propped up on an elbow and regarding him with expectant blue eyes.
“You know, I disagree,” he said, lips quirking into a playful little smirk. “I say we call the President. Disturb the pretty son of a bitch. Or better yet, let me do it.”
Thoughts?
I got nothing. XD
In this scene, Hamri Al-Assad (who is director of the FBI in DC, how's THAT for a reversed role XD) is yoinked out of bed in the middle of the night when some crazy shit goes down at HQ. How will Assad handle the situation? And more importantly, WHO is he sleeping with??!!
I don't even know anymore, guys, seriously. XDDD HALP.
The situation had begun late the previous night, bordering on what could be considered early morning. Just after midnight, an analyst down in Intel had stumbled across a red-flagged email during a routine data sweep--one that alluded to a potential threat to the President. In a matter of minutes, the typically dead Gamma Shift at FBI HQ was transformed into an all-out war zone.
This was the manner in which Special Agent Assad’s regrettably long day began.
Just before one, the cell phone Assad reserved for work-related emergencies vibrated loudly on the nightstand, pulling him from the loose grip of half-heavy sleep. Assad was, by nature, not a deep sleeper. He supposed that came with the job territory; being director of the DC branch of the Bureau, he would be the first one to be called in during any time of major crisis. Under normal circumstances, Riker, Assad’s deputy agent, was more than capable of handling general management duties during overnight shift. The fact that he was calling now, according to the caller ID, certainly didn’t bode well.
Assad reached for the phone, flipping it open.
“This is Assad,” he answered.
“Sir, it’s Riker. Sorry to disturb you at such an ungodly hour.”
“I sincerely hope you have a good reason,” replied Assad, only half-joking. He rose from bed, extracting himself carefully so as to not rouse the individual sleeping beside him, and padded around the corner to the bathroom. “What’s going on, Will?”
“Well, sir, we have a bit of a situation. Intel may have uncovered a potential plot to assassinate the President.” Assad drew in a sharp breath involuntarily.
“That could be a problem. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be down there as soon as I can.”
“Yes, sir. Should I phone the White House and let them know?”
“Wait on it. I don’t think we need to disturb the President just yet.”
“All right. See you soon.” He ended the call and walked back to the bedroom. With a pang of guilt, he saw the light was now on, and the ruggedly handsome man who occupied the bed was now awake, propped up on an elbow and regarding him with expectant blue eyes.
“You know, I disagree,” he said, lips quirking into a playful little smirk. “I say we call the President. Disturb the pretty son of a bitch. Or better yet, let me do it.”
Thoughts?
I got nothing. XD