Many of you may have noticed last night that NDim went offline without explanation. A considerable problem has arisen which has interrupted the day to day running of the site, and I envision that it will take some time to resolve. Sadly, until it is, the site will be in lockdown. Every one of you will be able to view threads, but posting is prohibited.
The reason behind this is that there has been an incident at NDim, so severe that its very existence hangs in the balance. Last night, at approximately 3am, terrorists burst into NDim headquarters and took me and my staff hostage.
They are demanding the release of several of their comrades, currently detained by the CIA. They say that unless their demands are met within seven days, they will execute me and the other hostages, and destroy NDim’s servers.
I feel completely drained by the incident. As I type this, the lead terrorist, Abdul Rahman Yasin, is holding a gun to my head.
Thankfully, I have a very capable and understanding community here. Some of you are very, very good friends. I implore you, find a way to meet the terrorists demands. Free me and my colleagues. Save NDim.
We can move past this. Our community has done incredible things, and it does not end here.
Here's to a better, brighter and more productive future for NDim!
There must be some kinda way out of here;
Said the joker to the thief.
There's too much confusion;
I can't get no relief.
It had to be a prank. That was Curtis’ first thought. Terrorists hijacking NDim? What would they possibly have to gain from such an endeavour? No, Paulus was playing an elaborate joke, he was sure of it. A visit to one of the hundreds of other sites running NDim would confirm as much.
But they were all locked down too, the same unnerving messages from Paulus and the terrorist the only activity to be seen.
Something really was amiss. Curtis felt helpless. All he could do was view posts. He couldn’t do anything else. He may as well have been a bot.
He flicked up AIM. Boc and DR were online. He needed to alert them.
‘Boc, DR! Go on FE NOW’ he typed frantically.
Curtis bit his nails as he waited on their reply. Boc started typing.
‘What is up? Is Timmy misbehaving again?’
Curtis sighed impatiently.
‘It’s much worse than that!”
‘What do you mean?’ DR said.
‘Just log in!’ Curtis typed.
A few moments passed. Finally Boc started typing again. Then he stopped. Then he started again.
‘Um…what the hell?’ he finally posted.
‘This can't be legit!’ DR said. ‘Paulus is playing a cruel joke on us!’
‘Have you ever known Paulus to fool around?’ Curtis replied. ‘Besides, this is happening on other NDim websites too. Would he risk his whole business for a silly joak?’
‘Oh boy…’ DR said.
Curtis sat back in his chair, thinking. Seven days. Seven days to free five terrorists from CIA custody, AND deliver them safe passage to NDim headquarters. It was all a bit overwhelming. Paulus’ life hung in the balance. As did NDim itself. And who could forget the NDim staff.
He had to make sure the threat was real. He picked up his headset and started calling Paulus’ Skype. The ominous ring sounded for what seemed like forever as the contact screen stayed blank. When he finally got an answer, he recoiled in shock. He came face to face with the Arab from the video posted on FE. He was gazing at Curtis sternly.
“كافر!” he yelled.
Curtis was gob smacked. He could hear voices in the background. A man with a thick middle eastern accent was shouting.
“What does the N stand for?!”
“It stands for N!” came a shrill reply in a British accent.
“Liar!”
A gunshot rang out, followed by a terrible scream.
The Arab on the screen continued staring at Curtis, steel faced, unfazed by the commotion behind him. Then he began speaking.
“I send you pictures of brethren we want free, and location. You do rest. Remember…seven days!”
Then the screen went blank again. In a matter of moments a message had arrived from Paulus' skype account. It listed five foreign names and faces, plus an attached location. The location was Guantanamo Bay...
Curtis took off his headset wearily and returned to the AIM conversation. There was a stack of posts from Boc and DR. Other FE members were starting to flash up, as they were all slowly becoming aware of the situation. Curtis started typing to Boc and DR.
“I have just been skyping with the terrorist holding Paulus hostage…Guys…I think it’s time for an FE meetup.”
Paulus sat in an office chair before a computer, a gun pointed at his head. He was in a dimly lit office at NDim headquarters, along with Tony, Theresa and Neil, the three technicians with whom he worked on the day to day running of the forum software. Their world had been turned upside down last night, when terrorists burst in and took them all hostage. It had been quite a surprise. Four Middle Eastern men donning balaclavas had barged their way in during the early hours, armed with AK-47’s. Paulus and his team had all been taken hostage, for reasons that were as of yet unclear. Throughout the night, the terrorists had restricted access on all of NDim’s computers, effectively blocking access on all the sites using the forum software. Paulus had screamed in rage as he watched them do it. If all his sites shut down at once, how could he hope to maintain the project? After a while, the terrorists had started to communicate. Their leader, a man Paulus had learned was called Abu Rahman Yasir, was the first to talk.
“You go on computer. You tell superiors my demands.”
Paulus had no idea who the terrorists thought they were dealing with. Surely they would have no interest in tar getting a forum development team. He figured it was a case of mistaken identity, but the opportunity to explain this had not yet arisen. So he complied, logging into a Further Entertainment with highly restricted access, and started a new topic.
“What should I type?” Paulus asked Abu.
Abu started reeling off his demands. He wanted the release of five of his brethren, currently held prisoner by the CIA. Paulus was shocked. These guys were big. Paulus made a long post to his fellow FEians, who would be waiting for an explanation for NDim's current state of affairs. They probably wouldn't believe him.
Once he had finished the message, he signalled to Abu to get his approval. The terrorist leader read the message, and gave his consent. Paulus hit post. As soon as he had, Abu pushed him out of the way and began typing furiously. Paulus tried to see what he was saying, when two of the other terrorists came up behind him and restrained him. They sat him down next to Tony and the other NDim staff. Tony was seething. He was a big stocky man, with a bald head. He looked ready to tear the terrorists apart. But he was bound in ropes. As was Theresa. Bubbly Theresa. She was usually brightening up the office with her warm smile. But not now. Next to her was Neil, the witty Asian who was always laughing and joking. But now he was deadly quiet.
The terrorists tied Paulus up as Abu continued messing around with the computer. One of them began talking in his native tongue.
“لعن الكفار. ونحن يجب هدم الطغيان الديمقراطية!” he said.
“Speak English motherfucker,” Tony said.
Paulus looked at him in horror. What had gotten into him?
The terrorist pistol whipped Tony.
“Quiet Tony!” Paulus hissed. “You will get yourself killed!”
Tony shook it off and continued to glare at the terrorist. Paulus felt things could get very bad if he didn't try to appeal to their captors. Maybe he could make them understand they had the wrong target.
“Abu,” he called.
The terrorist leader looked at him.
“What are you hoping to gain from this?”
Abu looked at him, confused.
“Who do you think we are?” Paulus said.
Abu grinned.
“You are National Defence Institution of Michigan.”
Paulus was taken aback.
“No…no we are not! Michigan isn't even in this country! Michigan is in America. This is Britain! We are N-Dim. We are forum forum software developers, not a defence institution!”
Abu looked at him a long time. The three other terrorists began exchanging confused murmurs. Paulus hoped they would realise their mistake. After some quarrelling, one of the terrorists turned to Paulus.
“What NDim stand for?” he demanded.
“N-Dimensions, motherfucker,” Tony spat, before Paulus could open his mouth.
The terrorist glared at Tony and hit him hard.
"And the N?" the terrorist spat. "What the N stand for?"
Tony laughed mockingly.
“It stands for N, you stupid fuck!"
Paulus tried to hush Tony, but the man was out of control. The terrorist hit him again with the butt of his gun.
“What does the N stand for?!” he yelled.
“He is telling the truth!” Theresa burst out. “It just stands for N!”
As this was happening, a familiar sound rang out from the computer. Paulus was getting Skyped! Abu looked at Paulus curiously.
“I wonder who this could be!”
He answered the call. Paulus saw a familiar face flicker on the screen. It was Curtis!
“كافر!” Abu yelled at him. Curtis looked horrified.
“What does the N stand for?!” the terrorist tormenting Tony shouted, hitting him once again.
“It stands for N!” Theresa screamed. Tony looked at his tormentor defiantly. The terrorist stood, full of rage, and pointed his gun at the NDim technicians head.
“Liar!” he spat.
Then he pulled the trigger.
A loud ringing filled Paulus’ ears. In an instant, he was covered with blood and brains. The world seemed to move in slow motion. When the noise finally subsided, he could hear Theresa screaming manically. He saw Neil, rocking back and forth, his eyes closed tight. Tony lay in a bloody heap. They had killed him. A brilliant software developer, cut down in his prime.
“You bastards!” Paulus yelled.
The terrorist who had done the deed fixed his gun on him. Abu walked over and pushed his arm down.
“Not yet,” he said.
Abu knelt down in front of Paul.
“I speak to your friend. I see you not national defence institution after all. But it too late now. Your friends help us meet our terms.”
"You are insane!" Paulus said defiantly. "They will never help you!"
“Perhaps. But it only chance you have to stay alive. Your friends do this, or you die."
And with that, Abu walked away. The other terrorists kept watch over them. Paulus had to find a way out of here. There was no way Curtis and the others would be able to help them. If he, Theresa and Neil were to avoid ending up like Tony, they would have to escape.
“What?!” Leos exclaimed, spluttering perfectly good beer all over the bar.
Sally sat nervously beside him.
“Well, I mean, we get along great Leos,” she said. “You know…I just think we are ready to take this to the next level.”
“What are you saying?” Leos asked in trepidation.
“I mean…” Sally started. “I mean…why don’t we become boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Leos groaned.
“Oh no…oh no! You didn’t just go there!”
Sally looked perplexed.
“Leos! I don’t want to be fuck buddies anymore! I want a proper relationship!”
Leos wanted to vomit, and not just because of the profuse amount of beer he had drank.
“Oh no! I know how this works. One minute, we are in a relationship, the next we are living in a three bedroomed house with a little brat kid and another on the way! I won’t be fooled by you woman!”
Sally stood angrily, tears forming in her eyes.
“I am tired of this! You aren’t ready to commit to anything! It's over!”
Leos laughed bitterly.
“How can it be over? It never even started!”
Sally slapped him across the face and stormed out. Leos shrugged. He was too numb from alcohol to care.
“Another beer,” he said nonchalantly to the barman.
“Bar’s closed,” the barman replied bluntly.
“Are you still behind the bar?”
“Yes.”
“And is the beer still coming out of the taps?”
“…yes.”
“Then I will have another beer!” Leos said triumphantly.
“Bar’s closed,” the barman repeated sternly.
“Well fuck you then!” Leos yelled, downing his pint. “I shall take this party elsewhere!”
He grabbed his coat and walked towards the exit, glancing at the clock as he did. It was 3.30 in the morning. The night was still so young!
He walked out into the electrifying air of Lansdowne Street. He needed to find another place to drink. The party was just getting started! He spotted several bars farther down the road and began walking.
“Fucking leaves me," he muttered. "For wanting more than casual sex? The cheek of it!”
Leos stumbled past a dark alleyway and saw a homeless guy sleeping by a trash can.
“Hey! You! Homeless man!”
The man looked up groggily.
“Why are women such heartless bitches?!”
He looked at Leos, confused, and just shrugged his shoulders. Leos shook his head and moved on. A sign caught his fancy. A big neon sign in the shape of a cocktail glass. Above it were the words ‘Wine Bar’.
“Ooh, a wine bar!” Leos said mockingly. “Let’s go get smashed with all the posh people at the wine bar!”
He spotted the opening hours below. Amazingly, it was open until 6am. Leos grinned. Fancy it may be, but it was one of the few places still open. He headed over and barged through the fancy doors into a fancy place with fancy people wearing fancy things, whilst drinking fancier looking drinks.
It was not your usual pub atmosphere in here. Light jazz music was playing in the background, and people were having conversations with each other, instead of salivating on each other. Weird.
Leos headed straight for the bar, receiving several confused glances. He passed a group of nerdy looking kids about his own age, all sat drinking water and talking in hushed and serious tones. ‘Losers,’ Leos thought, as he passed them by, smiling to himself. He stomped his hand on the bar.
“Service!”
A posh looking barmaid arrived.
“What are you having?”
“Wanna make out?” Leos asked, before letting out a huge belch.
“…” she replied.
Leos shrugged.
“Oh! Am I too good for you, eh? Well forget it. This is a wine bar. What do you think I want?!”
“We don’t only sell wine,” the barmaid said. “And there are many types to choose from!”
“You are so boring,” Leos said, yawning. “Just give me your cheapest before I pass out from boredom.”
The barmaid glared before turning away to fix his drink.
“Leos?” a strange voice came from behind.
Leos turned around. It was one of the nerdy looking kids. He was lanky and ginger.
“Who the hell are you?” Leos asked.
“Why…my Leos, it really is you! Did you get the message on AIM? Are you here for the meetup?”
“Look, I don’t want to sound rude, but I will anyway…I don’t know you. I don’t associate with your…sort.”
The kid was taken aback.
“But…Leos, it is me! Curtis!”
Leos sighed.
“I don’t know you!”
“You do!” one of the other nerds said, appearing beside Curtis. He looked like a smaller version of him.
“It’s me Leos! Shawn!”
“What about me?” a girl asked, appearing at the other side of Curtis. "Don't you recognize me?"
Leos perked up when he saw her.
“I would never forget a face like that!”
The girl sighed.
“Leos, it is me, Rose!”
“Nice name! I am Leos!”
“Yes, we know!” they all said in unison.
“We post on Further Entertainment together," Curtis said impatiently. "You are a member there, remember?”
A sudden realisation dawned on Leos. Crap…he couldn’t be seen with this people. Online friends? What would people think of him?
“I gotta go!” he yelled, standing and pushing past them hastily.
“Where are you going?” Curtis called after him.
“I am late for an appointment, sorry!”
“At 3.30am?” Rose asked, perplexed.
“Hey!” the barmaid called. “Your drink is ready!”
Leos stopped in his tracks. He looked back at the bar. There in all its glory was a glistening glass of sweet red wine. He would be leaving it behind if he left now. But staying meant talking to his online friends…he looked to the door, and then back at the bar, where Curtis, Shawn and Rose waited.
“Damn you, alcohol gods!” Leos screamed at the sky.
He walked back to the bar, resigned.
The sun was casting its first tired rays into the dusky office. Theresa lay huddled in a cold corner. She had lost track of how long she had been there, sobbing and crying.
…
Held captive by terrorists…this wasn’t in her job description.
Tony was mere feet away, his dead gaze fixed on her. His eyes were like black holes. At the mere pull of a trigger, the man she had worked with for two years had been snuffed out. Just like that.
Theresa had been clinging to the cross around her neck throughout the night, saying silent prayers, asking for rescue. Nobody had answered them so far.
Her faith had never been tested, but now she found herself questioning everything she believed in. Would god truly put her in this position? She had strived to live her life in line with her faith, yet now she was staring death in the face, at the hands of Muslim extremists. What had she done to anger god?
Neil was to her side, sleeping. She didn’t know how he had managed to get any shut eye, given the circumstances, but there he was, dreaming peacefully. She envied him. Paul was staring into space, his eyes bloodshot and weary. It was impossible to say what he was thinking.
Their captors had calmed down since the chaos of the previous night. Two of them sat in swivel chairs, guns fixed on their three captors. The one who had killed Tony was out of sight. He had been dismissed from guard duties after a stern talk with their leader, Abu. Abu himself was sat at a computer, dosing. He looked so old and peaceful, totally incapable of the terror he had inspired the night before. But Theresa knew better. He was an evil man.
As daylight slowly spilt into the office, there was a sharp knocking sound from the floor below. Someone was at the door!
The two guards watching them stood to their feet anxiously and exchanged confused glances. Abu stirred from his sleep and awoke as another knock came at the door. The terrorist who killed Tony suddenly appeared, talking urgently. He was speaking Arabic, but Theresa understood every word. Never did she imagine that her study of languages at University would be applied in such a way.
“Who is that?” the terrorist who killed Tony hissed, pulling out his gun. Abu was by now awake and aware of what was going on. Paulus was paying close attention. Neil was wide awake.
“Stay calm,” Abu said to his men, heading over to the window.
There came another knock at the door, followed by stern voices.
“This is the police! Open up!”
Theresa’s heart fluttered. Rescue had come! She gave Paul a hopeful glance. He looked hopeful but nervous. Neil was wide awake and paying close attention.
Abu stepped back from the window and shot an angry look at the terrorist who killed Tony.
“Nijad. That commotion last night must have brought them here. Go deal with them now!”
“At once!” Nijad replied, cocking his pistol and heading for the stairs.
“No!” Abu hissed. “Do you want to bring more of them here? Talk to them! I would do it myself but they might recognize me!”
Nijad hesitated, looking disappointed.
“Your gun is a last resort…do you hear me?”
Nijad nodded and headed down the stairs. Abu turned and looked at Theresa, Paul and Neil.
“Not a word,” he said, nodding to the terrorists with the guns.
Theresa listened as the door on the floor below creaked open.
“What can do for officers?” came Nijad’s voice, in broken English.
“We received a call about a disturbance in the early hours of the morning.” replied a man’s voice. “One of the neighbours rang reporting shouting and a loud bang.”
Theresa wanted to scream. She wanted to scream out as loud as she could. But one glance at the guns trained on her persuaded her not to. Why had it taken the police so long to get here? The call must have been made hours and hours ago.
“No noise here." Nijad said. "I cleaner. I only person here.”
“Ok. Well we just had to make sure.” Another man’s voice came. “Thank you.”
Without warning, Paulus rose to his feet abruptly.
“Help us!” he cried out in a booming voice.
There was a horrible silence which seemed to last an eternity. One of the terrorists hit Paul with the butt of their gun, knocking him to the ground.
“Stay quiet!” Abu yelled.
“Or what?” Paul spat. “You need us alive!”
“What was that?” Theresa heard the first police officer say.
“What was what?” Nijad asked innocently.
“I am afraid we are going to have to insist on entering the premises!” the second officer said.
Paulus yelled out again. Neil joined him. Abu got increasingly angry. But Paul was right. They were the only leverage the terrorists had. They couldn't risk hurting them.
“Help!” Theresa screamed, joining in.
Then all hell broke loose. Several frantic gunshots rang out on the floor below.
“Shit!” an officer screamed. “He has a gun! Call for backup!”
Abu knelt down and put his surprisingly strong arms around Theresa, covering her mouth.
“Keep quiet bitch!”
He dragged her to her feet. Theresa kicked and struggled against his grasp, to no effect. He dragged her towards the stairs.
“Get the other two!” Abu yelled. “We have to leave!”
As they were dragged downstairs Theresa got a glimpse of the carnage unfolding below.
Nijad was firing shot after shot at the two terrified policemen, who were taking cover behind the doors of their car, armed only with night sticks. One of the terrorists pushed past her and Abu, holding an assault rifle. He tapped Nijad on the shoulder and handed it over. Nijad grinned and took aim.
“Die infidels!” he screamed.
A tremendous thunder of bullets was fired straight towards the police car. Bullet holes erupted all over it. The officer’s flimsy cover was ripped to shreds, and them with it. Blood sprayed everywhere.
“Into the car!” Abu yelled, dragging Theresa out into the street.
She, Neil and Paul were thrown into the back seat of the police car. Abu and Nijad got in the front. Theresa looked around and saw the other two getting into the boot, guns at the ready.
Najid ripped the radio out and started the engine. He began driving furiously. Abu turned around to face them.
“This will not go unpunished.” He said.
Paul was glaring at him.
Theresa felt her eyes welling up with tears again. They had come so close to getting away. Now they were in even more trouble than before.
Vernon awoke from a lovely dream about 12 packaged hot dogs, to a loud dissonant yelp. He dragged his eyes open, his head pounding. He looked to the window, his bloodshot eyes surprised to see the California sun just beginning to rise. It was way too early for him to be awake. He groaned and looked to his side. She wasn’t in bed. Where was she?
There came another screeching yelp from downstairs. Vernon sat up and sighed, looking at his watch on the bedside table. It was 06.00am. He got out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and opened the bedroom door, every bone in his body aching. He needed caffeine. In the form of Red Bull preferably. As he stepped out into the upstairs hallway he heard the screaming again. He heard a dogs muffled bark replying.
“Jenna, what are you doing?” Vernon called down.
Jenna appeared at the foot of the stars, mischief in her eyes.
“Oh my god Vernon, I am recording my latest youtube video! Kermit and Sansa are getting intimate with each other, if you know what I mean! I am going to film it and overdub it with ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye.
There was a long pause. Vernon looked at her quizzically. Then finally, he spoke.
“That…is…AMAZING!”
Vernon rushed downstairs. Sure enough, in Jenna Marbles kitchen, her dog and his were getting intimate. Vernon saw the camera rolling, filming the adorable spectacle.
“You go girl!” Vernon yelled, clapping.
As the dogs continued to do it, Jenna stepped in front of the camera and began making silly faces. Cross eyed, demonic faces. It was GENIUS.
Finally, the dogs seemed to be finished, but Kermit was stuck inside Sansa. Jenna and Vernon bawled with laughter. Jenna zoomed in for a close up.
“This new video is going to make me!” Jenna said.
“I agree!” Vernon replied.
When the dogs got unstuck, Jenna picked up Kermit, still dazed in post coital bliss, and held him up to the camera.
“Aw, Kermit! Who’s a cheeky little player, lel?”
Jenna added some cross eyed stares into the camera for good measure. Vernon admired her attention to detail.
“Hey, can I appear on the video with you?” Vernon asked.
Jenna nodded and summoned him over. Vernon rushed before the camera and started grinning inanely.
“This is my boyfriend Vernon,” Jenna said, cocking her head to her side and making a silly face. Vernon quickly tried to mimic her, not wishing to be upstaged.
“Derp,” he said.
Jenna laughed hard at that. Once she pressed the record button off, she was in fits of giggles.
“Derp,” she repeated. “How did you think of that line. You are a natural! You could make videos like these yourself!”
“Maybe I will!”
Vernon was overwhelmed with pride. Praise from one of the best in the business. Elusive fame had reached its generous hand out to him at last! What an honour to appear in a video alongside a true auteur like Jenna.
Vernon looked down at Sansa, who had limped to his side. He picked her up and smiled at her.
“Unless Kermit used protection, you are going to be spawning a litter of baby Kermit’s soon!”
He and Jenna laughed hysterically. Then a thought struck Vernon. FE had to know about this. They simply had to. He rushed over to his laptop, and pulled it open. He logged on to FE and went straight to General Discussion. New topic.
…
“You do not have permission to post in this forum”
…
Vernon read the words back one more time. What the hell. Had Curtis banned him as a joke again? Vernon flicked back a page and saw that every topic was locked, save one. It was called ‘NDim 24/7 Support'. Strange. Vernon opened it. Inside it was a post from Paulus.
“What have you done to the forum this time Paul?” Vernon muttered.
He began reading the message. And when he had done that, he watched the video. Jenna came and peered over his shoulder when she heard the thick Middle Eastern accent of the terrorist who appeared to be holding NDim and FE hostage. She laughed when she saw him.
“He looks funny! Is he a YouTube star like me?”
Vernon hushed her.
“No, this is something else.”
It seemed that FE had been taken hostage by terrorists! Now Vernon wouldn’t be able to post about his epic adventure with Jenna Marbles. This was unacceptable! AIM flashed up on a new tab. He flicked over to it. He had been invited to a big group conversation, started by Curtis.
‘Hey everyone,’ it read. ‘If you haven’t seen already, a serious situation has developed at NDim, which threatens FE’s very existence. I invite you all to Boston IRL so we can discuss how to counter this threat.’
Vernon went wide eyed and thrust out his phone and started calling a travel agent. But to his surprise his phone rang with an unknown number. He answered tentatively.
“Hello?”
“Hey Vernon þetta er snjór menn haha!” a voice said in a strange accent.
“What?” Vernon replied flatly.
“Stop screwing with him,” Came another voice in a strange accent, though this time the words were intelligible.
“Sorry Vernon! I couldn’t resist!”
“Who is this?”
“What do you mean! It is Ari! Merc is with me too! We are going to meet today, remember? We just landed in LA!”
Vernon remembered suddenly.
“Oh my god! I forgot!”
He could hear them laughing.
“We should meet straight away,” Vernon said. “There is something you need to hear.”
Hupu was walking a quiet country road. It was about 8am, and he had been trekking throughout the night, ever since he had received the news about FE. He was going to the meeting in Boston. After leaving his house, he had walked what seemed for miles. He felt sure he must get there soon. But thus far there was nothing but open country in front of him.
Hupu was not usually one to go out of his way to help his friends on FE, but it was one of the few escapes he had, and to see it threatened by terrorists was unacceptable. He had to help his buddies however he could. Plus, it would be exciting to meet them in person for the first time.
He heard the spluttering of a struggling motor behind him. He turned to see an old pickup truck driving towards him. As it approached, Hupu held his hand out. It ground to a halt beside him, and the driver, a bedraggled man in dungarees, eyed him cautiously.
“Hello,” Hupu said. “I am…Hupu. I need directions!”
“Um, where are you going?” The man asked.
“Boston.”
The man just stared back at him. Finally, he pointed to over to his side.
“Why, Boston is about 400 miles in that direction.”
“Is that far?”
“Um…yes. Too far on foot.”
Hupu sighed.
“I don’t suppose you are going near Boston are you?”
“Only as far as the next village,” the driver said, laughing. “Will that do you?”
“Yes, thank you!” Hupu said. Hupu hopped into the passenger side of the pickup truck.
The driver revved up the engine and drove on.
“Why are you going all the way to Boston?”
Hupu thought carefully about his answer. The man could be a terrorist spy for all he knew.
“My online friends have been taken hostage by terrorists and I am going to try and save them.”
The man gave him a funny look.
“You’re a strange one…you taken any illicit substances recently?”
Hupu shook his head.
“No suh, I don’t believe in drugs.”
“Good, cause I won’t be having none of that in my truck.”
“Truly suh, no drugs.”
“Okay then.”
The drove in silence for another 10 minutes, when the driver slowed to a halt in a sleepy village, by a post office.
“Well, this is as far as I can take ya, good luck!”
Hupu got out.
“How much farther is it from here?”
“Erm…its still about 400 miles in that direction.”
Hupu didn’t understand. He was no closer!
He said his thanks anyway and walked away. As he did he bumped into a familiar face.
“Oh my god,” the kid yelled. “Patrick! Patrick, come quick!”
“What is it Matt?”
Who Hupu assumed to be Patrick appeared from behind Matt and peered over his shoulder. Hupu stared back at the two, trying to place them.
“Oh my god!” the one called Patrick yelled. “Hupu!”
“.” Hupu replied.
“It is Hupu!” Matt yelled.
Hupu wasn’t sure what to say, so he just smiled nervously at them both.
“How do you know me?”
“Damn it Hupu!" Patrick said. "We go on FE! And we are going to Boston. Are you coming?”
Paulus gazed out the window of the bulletridden police car, as it blazed down a seemingly endless narrow country road. There was nothing but rolling hills and sleeping farmland in all directions. The peaceful surroundings seemed far removed from the horrible predicament him, Theresa and Neil found themselves in. They had left the city some hours ago, their captors driving them as far away as possible from NDim headquarters and the bloody scene they had left behind. The entire drive had been spent in knife edge silence, save for the briefest exchanges between Abu and Najid. The other two terrorists sat in the boot, their guns at the ready. Paulus looked to his two remaining employees. Theresa was starting ahead vacantly, her eyes red and swollen from all her sobbing. Neil was sitting in silence, looking out the window. He hadn't spoken once since the police officers had been shot. Paulus was worried he was traumatized.
The drive had taken them many miles. Paulus figured they were somewhere in Wales. Paulus wasn't sure where the terrorists were headed. He wasn't sure they know knew either.
He got his answer when a small village appeared on the horizon. The head terrorist, Abu, pointed to it, and muttered an order to Nijad. Paulus felt the car start to slow. Abu poked his head out the side window and barked commands to the two terrorists sitting in the boot with their assault rifles. The car ground to a halt just before what looked like the village pub. Abu turned to face Paulus and the other two.
“Do not try anything,” he said sternly. The doors opened and with guns trained on them, he, Theresa and Neil were ordered to get out. They complied. As Paulus stepped out onto the old road, he could hear harmonious singing coming from the pub up ahead.
“This is definitely Wales” he thought to himself.
The tuneful song was interrupted by the sudden blaring of the police car. Nijad had switched the siren on and was unsheathing his rifle. Abu looked toward the pub expectantly. After a short while, confused villagers filed out of the pub, to face the scene.
“Aye, whet’s this then?” one of them asked.
“Silence infidel!” Abu boomed. He glanced at Nijad, who nodded and hoisted his gun above his head. He pulled the trigger, releasing a thunderous hail of bullets into the air. The other two terrorists joined in the hideous chorus. The villagers fell back in terror. When the firing stopped, Abu continued.
“You are now our hostages. Any attempt to escape will be met with deadly resistance." He turned to Nijad. "Go round the village, bring everybody to the pub."
Nijad nodded and went on his way. One of the villagers attempted to run. Before he had got even three paces, he was gunned down. The villagers screamed in terror. Nijad smiled and reloaded his rifle. Paulus boiled with rage.
"Do not be foolish!" Abu yelled. "If you comply with us, you will live!"
Paulus felt a forceful hand on his shoulder, as he, Theresa and Neil were escorted to the pub. They were thrust through the dark doorway into a very old looking place. Retro pint glasses littered the tables, and hundreds of dusty spirit bottles lined the shelves of the bar, their names indecipherable.
“What a vile place…” Abu said. "A festering ground for heretic ideas."
An old TV lay on the far wall. Paulus looked at it, before glancing away. His stomach lurched and he stopped in his tracks. He flashed his eyes back to the screen. He found himself looking at his own face.
Paulus head started spinning as he heard the news anchor speaking.
"Paul Reybould, going by the online alias Paulus, is the prime suspect in the ongoing investigation into the murder of two police officers in Birmingham early this morning. MI5, who believe he is a threat to national security, have issued a warning for anybody who sees him, to immediately call the police."
Theresa and Neil came to his side.
"This is all a terrible nightmare." Theresa whispered. "It has to be!"
Paulus didn't respond. He had no words. The report continued.
"Paulus has been dubbed the most dangerous man in England. His organisations motives remain unclear at this moment in time, but MI5 have seized the computers at NDim headquarters, and are in the midst of an investigation."
"It is suspected that these cyber terrorists are linked with Al Qaeda. This development correlates with eye witness reports at the shooting that several Arabs were present. The current location of all the assailants is unknown, however several people reported seeing a bullet ridden police car driving at high speed on the outskirts of Birmingham at roughly 10am this morning. We don't have anymore on this deeply disturbing story at this time, other than that a third body has been found at the scene, this time inside the NDim building, of what appears to be an employee. We hope to know more in the coming hours."
The screen flashed back to the BBC studio.
“Well, we will keep you updated with that story as it develops. Here's Tom with the weather.”
Paulus felt sick. It was bad enough that he was been held hostage by terrorists, but now the authorities believed he was colluding with them!
Paulus turned and saw Abu, smiling victoriously.
“This is good,” he said. “They don’t know where to find us.”
He then turned to the newly acquired villager hostages.
“Now, who is in charge here?”
The villagers exchanged terrified glances. Finally, one of them raised his hand. An overweight man with great white sideburns, and a burning look of rage on his face.
“Thaat would be mee.”
Abu crept over to him, and gazed down at him.
“I have a question for you…do...you...have…wifi?”
Curtis glanced down at his phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing for the past half hour.
Jeffrey: Ohh men I am on a plane now, I’ll be there in a couple of hours.
Boc: I am in Boston right NOW. Where are you all?
Curtis: We are at the Hard Rock Cafe Boc. Meet us there!
Boc: K, on my way.
Jeff: Oh men, good choice!
Nofo: I am not fucking getting involved with this shit.
Curtis: Nofo, Paulus needs our help! These terrorists aren't going to be forgiving if we fail.
Nofo: Fuck that, this is too much.
Chris25: Typical faggot.
Nofo: Fuck you Chris you fucking homophobe.
Curtis: Guys stop. If you aren’t going to help, stay out of this convo.
KC: Omw but I am coming from the ass end of nowhere, its going to take me a while.
Zersch: Same
Mal: Same
Vernon: Me and the snowmen will be there asap!
Curtis wrote out a reply to them all, but when he pressed send, AIM crashed. He sighed and put his phone away. It would have to wait.
DR, Shawn and Leos were all sleeping at the table. They had spent the night trying to convince Leos to help them at the wine bar, which they finally managed to do just as the place happened to close and stop serving the drinks they had been buying him all night.
Curtis wanted nothing more than to rest, but he couldn’t. He needed to stay alert. He grabbed a passing waitresses attention and ordered a coffee. They would have to wait some time for everyone to arrive. Vernon and the snowmen would be coming all the way from LA. Meanwhile, time was ticking by. It was day two of the seven that the terrorists had given them to meet their demands, and thus far they hadn't a single concrete idea of how to do so.
As Curtis stewed over this, the door to the cafe open and in walked a familiar face. Boc. Curtis stood and smiled. Despite the circumstances, meeting all his FE pals in person for the first time was quite enthralling. If only it hadn’t taken a terrible crisis to bring them altogether.
“Carter!” Curtis said.
“Curtis!” Boc replied, heading over. The two of them shook hands firmly.
Rose woke up.
“Oh boy, hello Boc!” she said.
“Hey Rose!”
Shawn and Leos did not stir.
“This is really cool,” Curtis said. “And I wish more than anything we could just have a nice normal chat. But there is serious business to discuss.”
“Yes,” Boc said solemnly. “I still can’t believe what is happening.”
“We need to decide what we are going to do.”
“Before you got here we talked about going to the media,” Rose said. “They would be able to spread awareness of the story.”
“Except that could result in the terrorists executing the hostages,” Boc said.
“Exactly,” Curtis said.
“What else?” Boc asked.
“Er…that is as far as we got,” Curtis said. “We are stumped.”
“Oh...that sucks."
“We are in way over our heads,” Rose murmured. “The only options I can see are actually breaking these five terrorists out of Guantanamo Bay, or going to England and launching a rescue mission. And neither is viable!”
Curtis sighed. His coffee arrived. As he took a sip, Leos’ eyes shot open.
“Ughhh,” he groaned. “My head…need…alcohol.”
Suddenly he became aware of Curtis and the others. He froze.
“What the fuck?”
“Leos…do you remember last night?” Curtis asked.
The drunkard looked from Curtis to Rose to Carter.
“Oh fuck!” He shouted, standing abruptly and trying to run. Curtis, Rose and Boc blocked his way. Leos recoiled on seeing Boc.
“Oh god, there’s more of them!”
“Leos!” Curtis said sternly. “Leos, you agreed to help us!”
“Nonsense! I was drunk! You aren’t liable when you are drunk!”
“Snap out of it Leos!” Rose yelled, slapping him across the face. “Your friends need you.”
“You aren’t my friends. You are just online made up people. You aren’t supposed to be real!”
Leos tried to barge through them, but he was too weak. He collapsed back into the chair he had been sleeping in, and launched into some incoherent rambling.
“I’ll go get him another beer,” Curtis said. "It seems to calm him down." Boc and Rose nodded as he headed to the bar.
“A pint of beer, please,” he said to the bartender. He looked back at Leos, babbling away manically. “Actually, better make that two.”
As Curtis waited a sharp dressed man in shades walked up a few feet away from him. Curtis could feel him staring. He tried to ignore him. The bartender appeared with his drinks, and he went to grab them. But as he did the suit spoke.
“Sir,” he said sternly. Curtis turned. He was flashing a badge. In big serious letters were the letters FBI.
“You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit terrorism.”
Curtis didn’t register the words at first. In a flash he found himself pinned to the bar, handcuffs been snapped firmly on his wrists.
“You have the right to remain silent, anything you do say can be used against you in a court of law.”
“What the hell is this?” Curtis demanded, when he finally became aware of what was happening. He managed to get a glimpse back at the table. Leos, Boc, Rose and Shawn were been handcuffed too, by similar looking men.
"WHAT IS THIS?" Leos boomed. "I am just a silly drunkard, leave me alone! I am not with these assholes!"
As Curtis was dragged to his feet, a stern looking man came over, who Curtis could only describe as looking like Mike Ehrmantraut from Breaking Bad.
“Oh boy, you kids have screwed up big time!”
He even sounded like him.
“What are you talking about?” Boc asked.
The man held up an iphone.
“You think you can have AIM conversations about TERRORISM in the United States and not expect trouble?”
Curtis groaned.
“Wait, you don’t understand!”
“Save it for the interrogation room,” Ehrmantraut said. “Take them away!”
