Post by fireandchutes77 on Aug 26, 2008 14:13:51 GMT -5
Well, this is my "Osama's Last Stand" series. I started "OLS," the main novel, in January 2005, and finished in April 2007. It was my goal to combine the world of "Kim Possible" with our own; to intermesh the admittedly fantastic premise and technology of the show with the reality of our world. 9/11 was one of the defining moments of my generation, so this story began as something of a catharsis, but as I wrote it, IMHO, it expanded into something more. Although my style has been compared to Clancy's, I actually hadn't read any of his books until earlier this year. Once I finally did, I was very impressed by his narration and attention to detail, and surprised by how parallel our styles were.
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So, to get to it:
Osama's Last Stand: www.fanfiction.net/s/2381261/1/Osamas_Last_Stand
Rated T for violence and language
The year: April, 2007. The terrorist cell al-Qaeda has launched a second devastating attack against the United States. Just hours later, Osama bin Laden's location is finally pinpointed. With Special Forces scrambling, there's only one who can step up to this sitch...
The story is currently under renovation; I've gotten up through chapter 4 so far. Beta/proof-readers welcome.
-----
Part Dos of the OLS Continuity: "The After:" www.fanfiction.net/s/3660927/1/The_After
Rated T for language, violence, and hormones.
Follows up on the twist in Last Stand's final chapter. Features more of the standard "KP" cast. Heavyish K/R.
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Part Tres of the OLS Continuity: "All She Wanted was a Drink" : www.fanfiction.net/s/2141358/1/All_She_Wanted_Was_A_Drink
My first-ever story, written in November 2004, and the one that sparked the idea for "OLS." A twenty-one-year-old Kim Possible walks into a bar after a hard day's crimefighting, but finds more than she bargained for there...
My main Fanfiction.net page: www.fanfiction.net/~fireandchutes777
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A "trailer" for "OLS:"
“...Remember, once you’re in,” bellowed Simms from the rear, “Say together, get to cover and lay out suppressant. Matt, Oliver, bring out the rockets! Kim, get out of there as fast you can; we’ll cover you! ...And for God’s sake people, keep your heads down!”
He gave a go-ahead signal to the demolitions expert.
“Three!” called Jonathan, now squatting with detonator grasped tightly.
Labored, heavy, rasping breathing. Hunching, softly clacking weapons held tight, bracing like football players in the gridiron. Time slowed, senses heightening. Kim felt Ron’s moisture-laden exhale play around her ears. The back of Michael’s brown neck was almost white; of what she could see his eyes were wide and bloodshot, his mouth wide open and panting. The raw, earthy smell surged again, hanging like a heavy cloud, smelling of perspiration and wet underarms. Kim realized what it was, the smell rising from her own pours. It was the reek of fear, the terror of certain hell, waiting, waiting, waiting.
The wait is always worse than action... she thought ruefully. Funny, when I saw newsreels of D-Day in 20th Century history class, I always wondered what was running though the soldiers’ minds in the landing crafts... The ones standing right behind the flat bow, hearing light caliber rounds ping of the sheetmetal, heavier rounds going though the steel, tearing apart the buddy beside them, boat so packed that the dead couldn't fall over. Rounds ripping up the water in front, knowing what they’re going to meet when the ramp falls, men vomiting their guts out behind... Now I know... Now I know... nowIknownowIknow... I’m not made to be a soldier, not made to be a soldier, not made to be a soldier...
“Ta-OOW!” Jonathan's voice cracked.
Kim turned to Ron. He tightly clutched the rifle, too big for him, as the drowning man clings to a ring buoy, the composite grips gleaming wetly, blackly, where he had slid his oily, sweaty hands. His shock of golden hair jumped startlingly from a band of igneous rock behind him; it was too bright, too yellow, almost cartoonish, contrasting with a face gray as the cliff behind him. His eyes were just as glaring, bright white with only a contracted hazel dot in their centers. Rufus's florid pink was nowhere to be seen.
Their eyes locked. Kim wondered if her face mirrored his. He jerked his head an inch in recognition, left corner of his tightly pressed lips flecking upward. As if reading a sign of admittance, Kim rushed to him, melding her lips forcefully, deeply, passionately, with his. The unexpected force sent the back of his head thudding into the rock face a few inches behind him; he did not give inkling he cared. Closing his eyes, he returned the silky fire. Time hung as they kissed, passionately as their first one at the Junior Prom, perhaps for the last time on earth. Kim mentally willed Jonathan not to utter the word now forming on his lips...
“...ONE!!” he screamed, smashing down the red detonator button and dropping flat to the ground in one motion. “HIT THE DECK!!”
Kim’s world dissolved in a tremendous boiling roar......
-----------------
So, to get to it:
Osama's Last Stand: www.fanfiction.net/s/2381261/1/Osamas_Last_Stand
Rated T for violence and language
The year: April, 2007. The terrorist cell al-Qaeda has launched a second devastating attack against the United States. Just hours later, Osama bin Laden's location is finally pinpointed. With Special Forces scrambling, there's only one who can step up to this sitch...
The story is currently under renovation; I've gotten up through chapter 4 so far. Beta/proof-readers welcome.
-----
Part Dos of the OLS Continuity: "The After:" www.fanfiction.net/s/3660927/1/The_After
Rated T for language, violence, and hormones.
Follows up on the twist in Last Stand's final chapter. Features more of the standard "KP" cast. Heavyish K/R.
------
Part Tres of the OLS Continuity: "All She Wanted was a Drink" : www.fanfiction.net/s/2141358/1/All_She_Wanted_Was_A_Drink
My first-ever story, written in November 2004, and the one that sparked the idea for "OLS." A twenty-one-year-old Kim Possible walks into a bar after a hard day's crimefighting, but finds more than she bargained for there...
My main Fanfiction.net page: www.fanfiction.net/~fireandchutes777
----------------------------------------------
A "trailer" for "OLS:"
“...Remember, once you’re in,” bellowed Simms from the rear, “Say together, get to cover and lay out suppressant. Matt, Oliver, bring out the rockets! Kim, get out of there as fast you can; we’ll cover you! ...And for God’s sake people, keep your heads down!”
He gave a go-ahead signal to the demolitions expert.
“Three!” called Jonathan, now squatting with detonator grasped tightly.
Labored, heavy, rasping breathing. Hunching, softly clacking weapons held tight, bracing like football players in the gridiron. Time slowed, senses heightening. Kim felt Ron’s moisture-laden exhale play around her ears. The back of Michael’s brown neck was almost white; of what she could see his eyes were wide and bloodshot, his mouth wide open and panting. The raw, earthy smell surged again, hanging like a heavy cloud, smelling of perspiration and wet underarms. Kim realized what it was, the smell rising from her own pours. It was the reek of fear, the terror of certain hell, waiting, waiting, waiting.
The wait is always worse than action... she thought ruefully. Funny, when I saw newsreels of D-Day in 20th Century history class, I always wondered what was running though the soldiers’ minds in the landing crafts... The ones standing right behind the flat bow, hearing light caliber rounds ping of the sheetmetal, heavier rounds going though the steel, tearing apart the buddy beside them, boat so packed that the dead couldn't fall over. Rounds ripping up the water in front, knowing what they’re going to meet when the ramp falls, men vomiting their guts out behind... Now I know... Now I know... nowIknownowIknow... I’m not made to be a soldier, not made to be a soldier, not made to be a soldier...
“Ta-OOW!” Jonathan's voice cracked.
Kim turned to Ron. He tightly clutched the rifle, too big for him, as the drowning man clings to a ring buoy, the composite grips gleaming wetly, blackly, where he had slid his oily, sweaty hands. His shock of golden hair jumped startlingly from a band of igneous rock behind him; it was too bright, too yellow, almost cartoonish, contrasting with a face gray as the cliff behind him. His eyes were just as glaring, bright white with only a contracted hazel dot in their centers. Rufus's florid pink was nowhere to be seen.
Their eyes locked. Kim wondered if her face mirrored his. He jerked his head an inch in recognition, left corner of his tightly pressed lips flecking upward. As if reading a sign of admittance, Kim rushed to him, melding her lips forcefully, deeply, passionately, with his. The unexpected force sent the back of his head thudding into the rock face a few inches behind him; he did not give inkling he cared. Closing his eyes, he returned the silky fire. Time hung as they kissed, passionately as their first one at the Junior Prom, perhaps for the last time on earth. Kim mentally willed Jonathan not to utter the word now forming on his lips...
“...ONE!!” he screamed, smashing down the red detonator button and dropping flat to the ground in one motion. “HIT THE DECK!!”
Kim’s world dissolved in a tremendous boiling roar......
(...And don't call me Shirley...)
