Vote Closed, Plan Nevill won by a landslide, and a majority of people voted for the name Stewart Runyon.
Also I've updated equipment to reflect what I believe he'd have on him at the time. Feel free to chime in if you think it likely he'd have something different
Yeah sorry about this guys, the actual post is completed, I'm waiting on my beta reader to actually get back to me with his edits and suggested changes
The sea spray dotted the faces of everyone on the boat as it impacted through a wave. The mutterings of a dozen languages filled your ears, despite your earlier warning to everyone before setting off that noise easily travelled on the sea. Still, you supposed as you wiped your eyes, the wind and the heavy waves would conceal any sound from reaching the ears of any observer.
For more than a decade, you had done this sort of thing. Before you had even reached the age of eighteen, you had made your career on the waters, moving items from shore to shore. Your father had never been in the picture, having left your mother when you were a baby. Not long after, she preoccupied herself with more hobbies more fun than watching a squabbling baby. Things didn't really improve all that much, occasionally social services would receive a complaint and come check on you both, and for a month or so your mother would get her act together and look after you, but that never lasted long. And so the cycle of life continued.
If you were being honest, perhaps it wasn't all surprising that you didn't really achieve much in school. Your teachers didn't expect much from you, and you didn't expect much from them. Like everyone else, you expected to end up working in one of the factories. Hard work, but a decent enough living. That line of thought ended when the last factory in the town declared bankruptcy. So there you were, fifteen years old, a year away from leaving school, and suddenly you were going to be competing with everyone else for the few jobs left. And quite frankly, you didn't have a chance in hell.
Of course, that wasn't the end of it. When it rains, it pours and all that crap. Your mother, still technically the one who provided for the family, began to spend any money remaining on drugs. And not the fun kind.
Perhaps you would have ended up like her ten years later, overdosing on one substance or another, had it not been for a BBC documentary about the rising immigration crisis in Calais where hundreds of immigrants were stuck, unable to get into Britain. Where most people would feel abstractly sad and then move on with their lives, you actually saw an opportunity.
Quickly meeting up with a friend of yours whose dad was once a fisherman, you borrowed the boat and made your way down into France. It took a little while, but you managed to find some people desperate enough to join you. A family of five, you and your friend gave them a ride. Of course back then, you were stupid and didn't think far enough ahead. You put ashore in your own town and then left them with no idea of what to do next. You didn't care though, having made some £500 split between you and your friend. The next day though, while on your way to school you saw the family you'd smuggled in being escorted by a couple of police. Only heaven knows why the family, when seeing you pass them by, didn't turn you in, but you learnt a lesson that day.
Of course, when the family was sent back into Calais, word spread around the immigrant community that there were people willing to take them into Britain for a price. Some enterprising groups quickly decided to monopolise this market. So congratulations, you single handedly created a smuggling industry. Course you never benefited much from the profit made from it.
It didn't take long until a couple of guys, with help from that family, found out where they were disembarked and what you looked like. Within a week, they then found you and your friend, and made both an offer too good to resist. That money you made didn't go far, especially when your mum found and spent the money on her own pleasure. So when those guys came to you, offering you a decent amount of money to pick up items or people and bring them to a location of their choosing, no questions asked, you immediately agreed.
Over the years, you found yourself increasingly embroiled in a ever more complex and profit making industry. As soon as you left school, you found yourself increasingly doing more and more jobs, profiting more and more each time. By the time you were seventeen, you had moved out of your childhood home and moved near to London. You had your own boat, you had your own choice of what to smuggle, and most of all, you had independence.
So that's how you ended up here. Two days ago you had gone to your contact, a man by the name of Russell. For several years now, he had been the person to contact when you needed to do a job. You had in truth been hoping for an easy job, pick up a package from France and hand it over to a contact. Little effort, much reward. This time though, he had a harder job for you. Although picking up immigrants had been your first ever job, it wasn't something you particularly enjoyed. While the job paid a lot more than other pickups, there was a lot more risk, and it didn't help that the people who paid their entire life savings faced a very risky future. While there were the odd few who already had family in Britain that would take them in and look after them, a lot more had paid everything they had and would still owe more after. They would be in debt to an organisation that would happily place them in jobs, and then take the majority of the money they earned. It was a debt that most of them would never be able to repay.
Even so, money was money. You didn't have the luxury of choice. When a job was available, you took it or would find lucrative opportunities rare in the future. You had left that day and set sail to your meeting place, guided only by a point marked on your phone. At midnight, you had finally arrived, even as the wind began to pick up and the freezing cold began to chill even you, despite the multiple layers you wore.
Waiting for you on a beach were some twenty or so people; men, women, children, families and loners. Many of them shivered violently in the cold air, wrapped only in the bare minimum clothing that they were told to bring with them. Guiding them was a contact you had never seen before, although that was unsurprising as there were regular rotations so as to not attract unwanted attention.
Nodding once to him as you approached the shore; you left your boat and walked up to him, halting a short distance away, close enough for you to still be able to get to your boat swiftly, but far away that he wouldn't be able to pick out individual details on your face.
"Monocle," You softly called out to him in French, your legs stiffening to prepare to run if you didn't receive the correct response.
"Gravy", the man responded. You immediately relaxed and approached, clutching the duffle bag you had been given by your employer, no doubt filled with money or some precious item that could be sold discretely or sent further on to its intended owner. You were surprised though when in response, the man handed you a bag of his own. You raised an eyebrow in bemusement but shrugged, taking it anyway.
"Whose this for?" You asked the man, who simply grimaced in response.
"Dennis," he responded, almost immediately causing anxiety to arise in your belly. Dennis Harper, the man who was your employer, and who gave you this job.
Dennis, quite frankly, was a true bastard the likes of which you rarely saw. Ruthless, charismatic, intelligent, and who refused to tolerate any kind of failure. You hated it when you had to deal with him, but he was the man with the money, the connections and the capacity to bash your head in with a baseball bat and then call for a drink, smiling all the time. You had hoped to only have to deal with him once when you met him earlier on, but it seemed that you would have to go back to him. You wondered if that was intentional of him, or simply an unfortunate occurrence. Either way, you still had to get these people back before dawn or it would be your head in the shit-filled toilet.
Glancing at the refugees, you put your hands up, calling for silence. An unnecessary measure really since they were all watching you anyway, but in your experience it helped to establish who was the one in charge. Switching languages rapidly from English, to French, to Syrian and then Turkish, you quickly organised everyone and put them into the boat, leaving three young men on shore to help push you off before they could clamber in. Taking your place at the boat's engine, you place the duffle bag under your seat and began to set off.
It took five hours for you to arrive at your destination, a beach that was far from any town or villages. Five hellish hours of freezing cold, high winds and choppy waves. There was a storm brewing, you could feel it, and you had to get ashore quickly. Unfortunately, it simply wasn't a measure of beaching yourself on the nearest shore, no you had to wait for another contact's signal, indicating it was safe for you to go on in. While it was a sensible precaution though, it certainly wasn't one appreciated by the people in the boat. You could hear mutterings amongst them, soft at first, but increasingly louder.
Your eyes flashed towards the three men who had pushed the boat out into sea on the French shore, all of whom were muttering to each other and glancing at you. Once again, you saw a flash of metal in their hand.
Were they planning something, you wonder? It wasn't something you'd discount, things like this had happened before. Some people were willing to do anything to get into Britain, but would baulk at the cost in doing so. You had heard stories before of smugglers like you being attacked by the people they were transporting and thrown overboard. It wasn't unknown for boats to simply never turn up to their designated spot, their inhabitants never being heard of from again.
Your mind flashes back to crowbar you keep concealed under your heavy jacket. It's a resort which you've occasionally had to use as a threat to get people to settle down, but not something you'd ever used properly.
Still, you had to do something. If the men tried to rush you now, there would be a lot of trouble, especially in this worsening weather.
Do You:
[] Let them be, they won't try anything
[] Investigate further, hopefully you can find out their intentions before they do anything.
[] Stop them before they do anything stupid, give them a verbal warning to let them know you're watching them
[] Sod it, you don't take chances, especially in these worsening conditions. Force them overboard.
[] Write In
[X] "Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
[X] "Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
[X] "Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
[X] "Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
Not likely, if an alternative site needed to be found, you would have been informed by text about it earlier. Right now, you have no reason to suspect that your contact won't be turning up.
That being said, you are incredibly paranoid...
Out of curiosity guys, how did you find the writing, I will confess that since you picked the criminal smuggler class, I wasn't sure how realistic people found it or if it interests people
Out of curiosity guys, how did you find the writing, I will confess that since you picked the criminal smuggler class, I wasn't sure how realistic people found it
It was pretty okay. Really liked how paranoid our guy is and how panic could affect the refugees. The votes on the other hand, could get quite confusing.
[X] "Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
It was pretty okay. Really liked how paranoid our guy is and how panic could affect the refugees. The votes on the other hand, could get quite confusing.
I don't really get this vote though.
Who wants to bet that this guy is dead?
[] Sod it, you don't take chances, especially in these worsening conditions. Do what needs to be done for the protection of everyone
Is this the vote to drop off the refugees regardless of our contact's presence?
I'm telling the idiots that if we rush in, we could rip out the bottom and drown. I doubt they have nautical experience, so the idea of running into rocks is going to stick in their heads while we try to pull out a backup landing area.
Not likely, if an alternative site needed to be found, you would have been informed by text about it earlier. Right now, you have no reason to suspect that your contact won't be turning up.
[] Sod it, you don't take chances, especially in these worsening conditions. Do what needs to be done for the protection of everyone
As in, what exactly needs to be done for the protection of everyone? I was assuming we're going to drop off the refugees without the 'all clear' from our contacts. Then again, I'm also assuming that our contact is dealing with Zombies right now. Assumptions are, by nature, rather unclear. Clarifications please?
I'm telling the idiots that if we rush in, we could rip out the bottom and drown. I doubt they have nautical experience, so the idea of running into rocks is going to stick in their heads while we try to pull out a backup landing area.
You would have a phone on you and a map of the UK coastline, as well as knowledge of the area around here. In truth, it's not so much that you should be worried about finding another location, it's that there might be someone there who shouldn't be and might call the police on you. Hence why you're waiting for a contact to give you the all clear and take the refugees off of your hands.
[] Sod it, you don't take chances, especially in these worsening conditions. Do what needs to be done for the protection of everyone
As in, what exactly needs to be done for the protection of everyone? I was assuming we're going to drop off the refugees without the 'all clear' from our contacts. Then again, I'm also assuming that our contact is dealing with Zombies right now. Assumptions are, by nature, rather unclear. Clarifications please?
I was alluding to using the crowbar to get rid of them. A drastic option, and not one I expect many people to take, but still an option. I'll make sure to try and be more clear about what each option will entail in future. Thank you!
[X] "Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
Winner: [X] "Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
Your choice in mind, you coughed loudly to get everyone's attention, hoping that the ever increasing raging sea would conceal any noise. The mutterings from the group stopped almost immediately as all attention turned towards you, including the three men who glanced at you. Was that hostility in their eyes?
"Look guys, I can't just move in, for all I know, the Bobbies are waiting for us there. Or there's rocks that'll rip out our bottom before we get close to shore. We can wait a bit, worse come to it, we have a backup site for this."
Almost immediately, the three young men looked at one another, abashed. The glittering object, whatever it was, disappeared almost immediately. Although you didn't look at them intentionally, it seemed that enough of the people on the boat immediately recognised that you were addressing the three men, and turned their own attention on them. Abashed by the wave of sudden hostility and attention, the three men looked at their feet or away towards the beach.
Your authority clearly established, you turned your own eyes back towards the shore, releasing your grip on the crowbar that you had concealed behind your back. A sigh of relief escaped your mouth. Another potential incident passed. Now you only had to worry about the ever approaching dawn, and the growing storm.
The sky was starting to lighten enough that you were starting to be able to make out details on the shore, although the sun had not yet made its way over the horizon. The distant shapes of trees seemed to call to you with the illusion of safety, but you knew that there would be no guarantee of safety until you received the signal from your contact. Once the signal come, then you could be rid of your cargo and you could be on your way.
Almost at once, the night lit up.
The world became a dark, almost murky green as the sky lit up above you. As the passengers began to moan and gasp in horror, you craned your head to the sky, your heart thumping in pure fright. A flare, perhaps? Had you been discovered, were the police about to descend upon you?
Above you, dozens of green streaks littered the sky, all descending seemingly upon you. Your eyes began to water as the light became stronger, the sea itself reflecting the green colour for miles around you. The shore, previously concealed by darkness, was similarly lit, the beach and the forest behind as clear to you as though the sun had come out.
A roar, quiet at first but growing ever louder suddenly began to ring through the sky. Similar to ten thousand jet engines all roaring at once, the green lights all began to descend. Hundreds of them went over your head, far into the distance. But a few, a scant few, more visible than their brethren, seemed to linger before all seemingly at once smash into the ground.
A loud series of explosions seemed to ring all around you, a huge splash, perhaps no more than ten miles out behind you in sea, and another, a loud boom, landed right in the forest past the beach. Almost immediately, as the green light that had illuminated the whole world around you disappeared, you began to see dancing orange and red flickers began to erupt in the forest.
Almost without realising, you reached for the boat engine and revved it into life, the noise almost nothing compared to the ringing in your ears. Your eyes still fixed on the fire now illuminating your path to the beach; you began to make your way towards there. Contact or no contact, you needed to get these people off the boat and make your way out. There was no way that official attention wouldn't fall on this area, and you had no intention of being caught with a boatful of people who were clearly not English.
After what felt like an hour you finally landed on the shore, the passengers all scrambling out as fast as they could, staring around at the first sight of their new home. Somehow you doubt that they expected their first memory of it to include a forest fire.
The night was lit up again suddenly as a tree started to burn merrily, the flames devouring its dry branches. In the distance, the dark shape of a person began to rush towards you. Your heart skipped a beat before you recognise the figure as it drew nearer. The figure, now revealed by the flames, was an old friend of yours, David Parkinson. His face normally smiling, he looked panicked, fear in his eyes as he stared at you and the others, eyes darting around.
"Stewart," he practically yells into your face, "We need to get moving, now!" He pointed behind him, close to where the burning forest was. "I have a lorry up there, we need to get these people inside, right now, and we need to get out of here!"
"My boat-" You begin to say, only for David to interrupt you.
"No time, consider it gone. There's going to be all kinds of trouble around here in the next few minutes, they're going to be sending all kinds of attention this way. I have gasoline in the lorry, burn it and hope to God that they'll overlook it."
You glance once at your boat, the craft which had been with you since your childhood. Grimacing, you nod at David once, a pang in your heart as you mentally prepare to say goodbye to the craft that had helped give you your life.
"Alright," David murmured, a slight look of sympathy appearing in his eyes as he noticed you look towards the boat. "Let's get these people moving before they decide to run off." He quickly turned, and began to shout. A few people turned to look at him, dumb looks on their faces. The vast majority though didn't pay any heed, many clinging to each other or looking desperately back at the boat. This needed your help.
You call out to everyone rapidly in a variety of different tongues, the urgency of the situation guiding you forward. In no short order, you managed to gain the attention of the majority of the crowd who quickly assemble with you and David. Others unable to hear you or understand what language you spoke similarly got the message soon enough when the people gathered near you.
"This all of them?" David asked, glancing around, his eyes straining to penetrate any dark areas.
You shrug. "So far as I know."
"Then let's get these people out of here before this night gets any fucking worse."
Between the two of you, you quickly usher the people towards the forest, cajoling those who paused hesitantly as you grew closer to the rippling flames that seemed to dance from branch to branch. The oppressive heat grew heavy to the skin, droplets of sweat starting to drip from your nose. Within a few seconds, you saw the lorry, just parked away from the treeline. David rushed ahead, opening the back and half carrying, half pushing the crowd inside. He glanced at you as you led up the rear, making sure no one left.
"Stewart, catch!" He tossed a canister towards you. Reaching out, you barely caught it in time, the heavy weight almost catching you off guard. "Take it and torch the boat, I'll drive up to you, hurry!"
You nod and began to jog back to the boat, gladly embracing the cool canister against your warm skin. You made it back to the boat within a minute, and you suddenly froze in fear. The duffle bag, the one filled with the mysterious cargo given to you in France, was missing. Scrambling, you almost tore the boat apart, even going so far as to consider wading into the water as the implications of what would happen if you didn't bring it with you filled your mind.
A horn honked behind you, and the headlights flashed over your position as David pulled the lorry up behind you. "Come on!" He roared at you, "Why isn't that boat alight yet?"
Cursing under your breath, you turned and poured the canister liberally on the boat before grabbing a flare gun. You fired it into the boat, and with a satisfying hiss the boat practically erupted in flames. Turning, you ran back to the lorry and leapt into the front seat next to David who as soon as you opened the door had begun to accelerate the lorry.
The fires disappeared behind you in the horizon as you both stayed tense, watching the road in front of you. David nodded towards the glove compartment suddenly. "Do me a favour Stewart, open it up and listen to the police scanner. See if the authorities are responding and which road they're taking. We'll stick to the backroads, and hopefully drop these people off within a few hours. "
Between the two of you, it took around two hours before you felt you could breathe easy. Listening on the radio, you were both able to successfully navigate your way without encountering any issues. As dawn came and went, you soon find yourselves entering into your home city, a large town in truth, named Solihull. You put the scanner back into the glove compartment and relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages. David, without asking, reached towards the radio and turned it on.
"-unexpected and shocking lack of response. The fact that it took so long for the emergency services to respond, and that there are still fires burning out of control is a sad state of affairs caused by the current government. The Prime Minister has yet to issue a statement over what went wrong, and I've heard from several colleagues that people have been forced to evacuate on their own without any government assistance."
A voice interrupted the fervent speaker. "But surely you can understand that this was an event that no one saw coming. It's easy to blame the government when you aren't in their position, but a lot harder to do something. We have fires erupting across all of the United Kingdom, and the government is focusing on those that are more likely to cause injury and property damage."
David switched the radio off, a small smirk on his face. "Looks like we might have gotten lucky here. Dennis won't have our balls for this if the police are busy dealing with everything else."
"Yeah..." You mutter, images of the lost duffle bag fluttering through your mind.
"Everything alright?"
"I lost something that Dennis wanted," You say bluntly. "I left it in the boat when I disembarked everyone, when I went back it was missing."
"Oh..." Daniel was silent for a minute. "Shit."
"Yeah. Shit."
The two of you remained silent for the remainder of the trip. After a hour of driving, Daniel stopped the lorry, close to where you lived.
"Do you want me to drop you off here? You know that Dennis is going to want to see you later. I can take you there after I leave the lorry with the other guys if you like, and we can handle this together. Although I'm not going to lie mate, you stink. So if you wanna freshen up and then go see Dennis, might make things easier. It's up to you."
[] Go and see Dennis now with Daniel in the morning
[] Go and freshen up, meet with Dennis later in the afternoon
[] Put off seeing Dennis for a while, although if you don't see him soon then he'll likely come looking for you.
