I'm going to try and write a story and I really don't know how good or bad I am as a writer so I would really appreciate any feedback or comments, good or bad.

 

So, without further ado, I bring you: TRIPLE THREAT.

 

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Now.

 

Orlando dived behind a pillar, hiding his large body from view, as there was another loud crack of gunfire. He cursed under his breath and looked around for his brother. There was a blur of blue and his brother appeared beside him, his brown hair ruffled far more than he’d usually let it become.

“Ryan!” Orlando yelled above the noise going on all around them. “Will you please do something about these fuckin’ mooks!”

“What do you care man, it’s not like the bullets are gonna hit you!” Ryan yelled back.

“I only did that once.” Orlando bellowed. “I can’t do that for 200 at the same time!”

“Pussy!” Ryan grinned.

“This is not the goddamned time!” Orlando glared at him. “Besides, you’ve been saying for weeks now that you’re faster than a speeding bullet, haven’t you? This is your chance to fuckin’ prove it!”

“I’m not Superman, you idiot!” Ryan yelled at him.

“I don’t care if you’re an overgrown boy-scout or not!” Orlando grabbed him by the shirt. “Do something about these fuckin’ guns!”

“Fine, fine.” Ryan screamed over the noise of machine guns. “Hold on!” He blurred for a moment and there was a thunderous bang, followed by silence. He sagged slightly, then thrust his hands into his jean pockets. “Happy now?” He asked.

“Thank you!” Orlando snarled at him, before stepping out from behind his cover. The street was covered in rubble, destroyed cars and now, several limp bodies.

“They dead?” Orlando asked.

“Only if they hit their heads badly on the fall.” Ryan shrugged. “But I didn’t kill ‘em.”

“Good.” Orlando nodded.

“Why do you care, man?” Ryan looked incredulous. “They were trying to fuckin’ kill us!”

“That doesn’t make it right to kill them.” His brother frowned. “Where’s Chris.”

“Right here.” A voice came from behind him. A much smaller man stood there. Instead of having brown hair, like his brothers, his was brilliant blonde.

“Where have you been?” Ryan scowled at him.

“Hey, never mind.” Orlando cut in. “You ok?” He asked Chris.

“Of course.” His brother nodded. All three turned to look at the devastation.

“How are we gonna explain this to dad?” Ryan asked.

 

 

Three Months, Six Days ago.

 

 

The crowd cheered as the rich red shirts of the 49ers streamed onto the field. The cheerleaders’ moves flowed seamlessly from on to the next as the Quarterback ran up and down the sidelines, pumping up the crowd. There were a large number of signs in the crowd with the number “00” on them, mimicking the number on his shirt that sat under the name “R.Fyar”. He pushed on his helmet, squashing down his immaculate hair, before running onto the pitch to join the rest of the team.

 

Orlando sat in the crowd, soaking up the atmosphere. For the first season in god-only knew how long, The 49ers were undefeated, and it looked to stay that way. His brother, Ryan was on a hot streak like never before. He was hitting 60 and 70 yard passes with regular frequency, destroying every piece of opposition in their path. Tom Brady and the Pats had been annihilated only two weeks ago, suffering their worst defeat in decades. Ryan’s worth was increasing every game he played, and this was only his rookie year. Orlando cheered as the ref’s whistle signalled kick-off. Three hours later, it was all over.

 

 

Three Months, Five days ago.

 

 

Craig Chalice walked through the sliding doors into the main lab, carrying his morning Mocha and a copy of the Chronicle. He sat down at his computer and swung his feet up on his desk. He heard a door swing closed from across the white lab, and looked over to see Chris Fyar, dressed on a long, white lab-coat wandering over.

“You pulled another all-nighter?” Chalice asked.

“If it’s morning already, then yes.” Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, then picked up the paper. “How wonderful, it looks like my dear brother won again.” He scowled.

“You all set for tomorrow?” Chalice asked.

“I will be by tomorrow.” Chris nodded. “I still need to run a couple of tests on the new recalibrations.”

“Chris, get some sleep!” Chalice said. “You look terrible.”

“I’ll sleep once we’ve proven this.” Chris shook his head.

“No, you’ll sleep right now.” Chalice said sternly. “Go to my office and get some rest before I have you carted off home. Jensen will cover for you. But you’re no good to me if you collapse before we show this to your father.”

“He’s not my father, he’s the Governor.” Chris yawned and shook his head. “He’s not going to give us more funding just because I’m his son.”

“And he’s not going to give us more funding if you mess up this experiment because you were too tired, either!” Chalice stood up. “Go! Sleep! That’s an order.”

“Well, yes sir!” Christ threw a mock salute and scowled.

“Good. I want you on tope form tomorrow, or not at all.”

“Oh don’t worry about me.” Chris scowled again. “Tomorrow will be historic.”

 

 

Two Months, 30 Days ago.

 

 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you!” Ryan screamed at his brother.

“Ryan, calm down!” Orlando tried to hold his brother back.

“This little piece of crap knew this would happen, and he didn’t tell us!” Ryan struggled to free himself from Orlando’s grip.

“No-one asked you to be a hero!” Chris shot back over Orlando’s shoulder.

“What, like we were just gonna let you fry in there?” Ryan yelled.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing you’d ever done to me!” Chris spat back.

“Oh let it fuckin’ go, you worthless little runt!” Ryan glared at him.

“Everyone shut up!” A booming voice rang out. All three men stopped and stared at their father. He was a tall, broad, cigar smoking man with dignified sliver hair and a matching moustache. He stepped into the bright, small room they were in and closed the door behind him. “Ryan! Sit down!” He commanded. Ryan’s legs seemed to follow the order of their own accord, Ryan scowled.

“Good for nothing little…” He began.

“And shut up!” His father barked. “Now Chris.” He turned to his smallest son. “What the hell actually happened in there. The truth this time!”

“I don’t know!” Chris stood there for a moment and faded slightly, seeming to become slightly transparent for a moment. With a look of concentration, he forced himself to become solid again. His father stared at him with a mixture of shock and fear on his face. “There’s no scientific reason for this. It shouldn’t be happening.”

“But it is!” Ryan raised his voice.

“Ryan!” His father glared warningly at him.

“Technically speaking, all three of us should be dead.” Chris scowled. “I can’t explain why we’re not, and neither can any of the doctors I’ve spoken to. This shouldn’t be happening.” He repeated the statement, as if saying it were to make it true.

“What about the white light?” Orlando sighed, thinking back.

“I don’t know about that either.” Chris shook his head. “That wasn’t part of the test, there weren’t even any white lights in the chamber.”

“Well that’s just great.” Ryan stood up again.

“Ryan, I told you to sit down!” His father pointed back down at the chair he’d been sitting in.

“Y’know what, dad? No!” Ryan glared back at him. “No. I don’t see why I should have to listen to a damn thing you say. You’re not my boss.” He glared at Orlando.

“Hey, bro…” Orlando started.

“No, dude.” Ryan shook his head and stepped back. “No. Screw this. And screw you guys.” There was a blur and a loud bang. Every piece of paper in the room suddenly was caught by a strong gust of wind, and Governor Fyar’s cigar suddenly flamed. He dropped suddenly, and stamped on it as it caught a sheet of paper as it hit the floor.

“Damnit!” He cursed, gazing at the now open door of the room.

 

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To Be Continued...