CHAPTER 3??? NO WAY!
Title: Watchmen
Pairings: Colin/Josie, Greg/Josie, Brad/Caroline, Colin/Deb
Chapters: 3/?
Summary: It’s the story set in an alternative 1985, where the world is ticking closer to the brink of nuclear war, and a plot to eliminate a band of ex-crime fighters is instigated, but why? and by whom? It is up to two of those ex-crime fighters to investigate the plot that seems to go beyond the unthinkable.
Author’s Notes: I HAVE FINALLY UPDATED!!! OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!!!
Sorry folks lol. I got a little over excited there. Anyway, enjoy all :)
Characters and plots aren’t mine. Plot and characters belong to Alan Moore, although the Whose Line guys belong to…themselves…yeah…
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Chapter Three
“It all started with the Gangs. Y’know? People tend to forget that.”
The slightly balding, ageing man grinned at his fluffy haired, bespectacled younger companion, sipping the cold, soothing liquid from the icy glass bottle.
“Pirate outfits..Ghosts….They thought it was funny to dress up and pull heists..But of course…as soon as we arrested them, they were back on the street again, Greg.” Clive shook his head, sighing slightly as the memories came back, gazing at the picture of the Minutemen.
“Nobody could have taken them out of the line because of the damn masks..” he ranted, placing his beer down on the side, leaning towards his younger companion. “ So..a few of us cops…we get together and we think..hey..we’ll mask up too. Finish what the Mob couldn’t.”
Greg chuckled softly, sipping his beer, smiling kindly at Clive as he spoke.
“Pretty soon…papers got wind of it..ran with it, and oh Wow..we’re a national Past time. It was me.., Steve - The Dollar Bill, Tony - Mothman, Mike - Captain Metropolis, Sandi- The Silhouette, Richard - Hooded Justice, Caroline - The Silk Spectre and…Brad- The Comedian.” Clive sighed as he remembered the memories, taking another swig of his alcohol. “Don’t get me started on him…”
Clive suddenly chuckled, shaking his head.
“I must be drunk already, telling you this sob story all over again.” Greg smiled warmly, patting Clive’s shoulder gently, his warm brown eyes radiating comfort.
“I’d think you were trying to make a point.” He grinned. Clive smirked, jumping suddenly as he remembered what he was saying.
“Oh..my point..Well my point is..that we had it too easy…It wasn’t fair what happened to you guys,” Greg shook his head, his smile faltering slightly.
“You guys picked up where we left off…and then Nixon forced you all out..”
Greg chuckled, rubbing his eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses with his thumbs before brushing a hand through his messy curls.
“Nixon…that prick..” Clive spat, “And you think I voted for him 5 times!”
“Hey it was him or the commies right?” Greg responded, taking another sip of his beer, glancing down at his watch, sitting up straight after he swallowed his mouthful. “Eh Clive, It’s almost midnight, I gotta go.”
Clive finished his mouthful as Greg stood to retrieve his coat, gazing up at his younger companion like he was a son.
“Truth?” he asked gently, still gazing at Greg as he pulled his coat on. The younger man turned, looking briefly bemused.
“ You were a better Nite Owl than I ever was Greggie boy.” Clive smiled. Greg chuckled slightly, buttoning up his jacket, shaking his head at the very thought.
“Clive, you and I both know that, that is bullshit.”
“Hey! Mind the language!” Clive grinned, slowly pushing his aching bones from his seat, limping over to Greg. “ I have the left hook that floored Captain Axis remember?”
“Whoa!” Greg grinned jokingly, holding his hands up in retreat, backing away slightly. Clive smiled fondly as he wrenched the crooked door open for his younger companion, squinting slightly at the rain outside as Greg pulled up his collar, droplets already dampening his curls.
“Next week?” Greg offered, wiping specs of rain already from his glasses.
“You know..” Clive started as he followed Greg out onto his porch, sliding his wrinkled hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to keep humouring me like this…I mean…you’ve probably got a hot date or something..”
Greg snorted, casually sliding his glasses back up his nose, before squinting back at Clive through the dimmed porch light.
“Us retired guys gotta stick together right?” he smiled kindly as his elder let out an amused chuckle. Clive glanced slightly saddened down at Greg as he made his way down the porch steps.
“Do you ever miss it?” he suddenly asked, quietly, watching as his young companion turned to face him on the bottom step, his kind, warm brown eyes gazing admirably up at him. Greg stalled for a second, as if thinking about it, before the slow, boyish smile appeared on his face again and he shook his head.
“No..” he answered, still gazing up at the silhouette of Clive. “…You?”
“Oh heck no.” Clive smiled back, leaning against the edge of the porch. Greg shook his head slightly, the rain starting to drip down his cheek, his hair already soaking wet from the downpour.
“I’ll be seeing you.” He smiled kindly, waving as he turned back towards the auto repair car park Clive now owned. Clive’s smile slowly faded as the younger man waded through the thick rain away from his apartment, leaving the old man feeling considerably alone.
Greg tightened the cord of his coat, shoving his hands far into his pockets as the rain lashed down, his legs carrying him out of the garage car park, past a sign saying “We’ll fix them! Desolate models a specialty!”. A tired smile played on his lips as he continued to walk down the several dark alleyways of New York, being drenched in torrential downpour the entire time. All the while, Clive’s words were on his mind. Did he miss it? He thought briefly before answering with the same confirmation he had given Clive. Of course he didn’t. It was silly to even let the thought play on his mind.
His feet continued to walk him towards their destination, his mind obviously elsewhere until he suddenly jolted to a stop outside his house. Wiping the rain from his spectacles, panic suddenly struck him as he glanced at his locked door. Well…it had been locked. The wood was splintered and sharp, obviously kicked open by someone. Greg bit his lip, fear and adrenaline surging through him as his hand silently pressed the door open.
He was met by darkness, just how he had left it when he had gone to visit Clive. That was what unnerved him the most. Whoever had infiltrated his house was in the darkness. He slowly stepped forward, his hands balling into fists as he walked, his crime fighting side taking over. Greg was always ready for a battle if he was forced to fight.
Rattling and clanging echoed from the kitchen as he drew nearer, his fists clenching harder. Now he was sure someone was still here and his warm brown gaze homed in to kitchen light, filtering through the crack of the open door. Adrenaline made him move forward and he froze as soon as he spotted the culprit.
The culprit was tall and thin, sat down at the kitchen table. His long trench coat was perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders, the collar standing up straight. He glanced back slightly, his trilby pointed low over his face, white mask splashed with ink blots now pulled up revealing his mouth and rather square jaw.
“Hello Gregory.”
Comments are utter loving :P
Pairings: Colin/Josie, Greg/Josie, Brad/Caroline, Colin/Deb
Chapters: 3/?
Summary: It’s the story set in an alternative 1985, where the world is ticking closer to the brink of nuclear war, and a plot to eliminate a band of ex-crime fighters is instigated, but why? and by whom? It is up to two of those ex-crime fighters to investigate the plot that seems to go beyond the unthinkable.
Author’s Notes: I HAVE FINALLY UPDATED!!! OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!!!
Sorry folks lol. I got a little over excited there. Anyway, enjoy all :)
Characters and plots aren’t mine. Plot and characters belong to Alan Moore, although the Whose Line guys belong to…themselves…yeah…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Three
“It all started with the Gangs. Y’know? People tend to forget that.”
The slightly balding, ageing man grinned at his fluffy haired, bespectacled younger companion, sipping the cold, soothing liquid from the icy glass bottle.
“Pirate outfits..Ghosts….They thought it was funny to dress up and pull heists..But of course…as soon as we arrested them, they were back on the street again, Greg.” Clive shook his head, sighing slightly as the memories came back, gazing at the picture of the Minutemen.
“Nobody could have taken them out of the line because of the damn masks..” he ranted, placing his beer down on the side, leaning towards his younger companion. “ So..a few of us cops…we get together and we think..hey..we’ll mask up too. Finish what the Mob couldn’t.”
Greg chuckled softly, sipping his beer, smiling kindly at Clive as he spoke.
“Pretty soon…papers got wind of it..ran with it, and oh Wow..we’re a national Past time. It was me.., Steve - The Dollar Bill, Tony - Mothman, Mike - Captain Metropolis, Sandi- The Silhouette, Richard - Hooded Justice, Caroline - The Silk Spectre and…Brad- The Comedian.” Clive sighed as he remembered the memories, taking another swig of his alcohol. “Don’t get me started on him…”
Clive suddenly chuckled, shaking his head.
“I must be drunk already, telling you this sob story all over again.” Greg smiled warmly, patting Clive’s shoulder gently, his warm brown eyes radiating comfort.
“I’d think you were trying to make a point.” He grinned. Clive smirked, jumping suddenly as he remembered what he was saying.
“Oh..my point..Well my point is..that we had it too easy…It wasn’t fair what happened to you guys,” Greg shook his head, his smile faltering slightly.
“You guys picked up where we left off…and then Nixon forced you all out..”
Greg chuckled, rubbing his eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses with his thumbs before brushing a hand through his messy curls.
“Nixon…that prick..” Clive spat, “And you think I voted for him 5 times!”
“Hey it was him or the commies right?” Greg responded, taking another sip of his beer, glancing down at his watch, sitting up straight after he swallowed his mouthful. “Eh Clive, It’s almost midnight, I gotta go.”
Clive finished his mouthful as Greg stood to retrieve his coat, gazing up at his younger companion like he was a son.
“Truth?” he asked gently, still gazing at Greg as he pulled his coat on. The younger man turned, looking briefly bemused.
“ You were a better Nite Owl than I ever was Greggie boy.” Clive smiled. Greg chuckled slightly, buttoning up his jacket, shaking his head at the very thought.
“Clive, you and I both know that, that is bullshit.”
“Hey! Mind the language!” Clive grinned, slowly pushing his aching bones from his seat, limping over to Greg. “ I have the left hook that floored Captain Axis remember?”
“Whoa!” Greg grinned jokingly, holding his hands up in retreat, backing away slightly. Clive smiled fondly as he wrenched the crooked door open for his younger companion, squinting slightly at the rain outside as Greg pulled up his collar, droplets already dampening his curls.
“Next week?” Greg offered, wiping specs of rain already from his glasses.
“You know..” Clive started as he followed Greg out onto his porch, sliding his wrinkled hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to keep humouring me like this…I mean…you’ve probably got a hot date or something..”
Greg snorted, casually sliding his glasses back up his nose, before squinting back at Clive through the dimmed porch light.
“Us retired guys gotta stick together right?” he smiled kindly as his elder let out an amused chuckle. Clive glanced slightly saddened down at Greg as he made his way down the porch steps.
“Do you ever miss it?” he suddenly asked, quietly, watching as his young companion turned to face him on the bottom step, his kind, warm brown eyes gazing admirably up at him. Greg stalled for a second, as if thinking about it, before the slow, boyish smile appeared on his face again and he shook his head.
“No..” he answered, still gazing up at the silhouette of Clive. “…You?”
“Oh heck no.” Clive smiled back, leaning against the edge of the porch. Greg shook his head slightly, the rain starting to drip down his cheek, his hair already soaking wet from the downpour.
“I’ll be seeing you.” He smiled kindly, waving as he turned back towards the auto repair car park Clive now owned. Clive’s smile slowly faded as the younger man waded through the thick rain away from his apartment, leaving the old man feeling considerably alone.
Greg tightened the cord of his coat, shoving his hands far into his pockets as the rain lashed down, his legs carrying him out of the garage car park, past a sign saying “We’ll fix them! Desolate models a specialty!”. A tired smile played on his lips as he continued to walk down the several dark alleyways of New York, being drenched in torrential downpour the entire time. All the while, Clive’s words were on his mind. Did he miss it? He thought briefly before answering with the same confirmation he had given Clive. Of course he didn’t. It was silly to even let the thought play on his mind.
His feet continued to walk him towards their destination, his mind obviously elsewhere until he suddenly jolted to a stop outside his house. Wiping the rain from his spectacles, panic suddenly struck him as he glanced at his locked door. Well…it had been locked. The wood was splintered and sharp, obviously kicked open by someone. Greg bit his lip, fear and adrenaline surging through him as his hand silently pressed the door open.
He was met by darkness, just how he had left it when he had gone to visit Clive. That was what unnerved him the most. Whoever had infiltrated his house was in the darkness. He slowly stepped forward, his hands balling into fists as he walked, his crime fighting side taking over. Greg was always ready for a battle if he was forced to fight.
Rattling and clanging echoed from the kitchen as he drew nearer, his fists clenching harder. Now he was sure someone was still here and his warm brown gaze homed in to kitchen light, filtering through the crack of the open door. Adrenaline made him move forward and he froze as soon as he spotted the culprit.
The culprit was tall and thin, sat down at the kitchen table. His long trench coat was perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders, the collar standing up straight. He glanced back slightly, his trilby pointed low over his face, white mask splashed with ink blots now pulled up revealing his mouth and rather square jaw.
“Hello Gregory.”
Comments are utter loving :P