@ Lleigh, my whatsapp phone's battery is low. In case I've missed anything I'll surely find it there.

Meanwhile, all contestant should adhere to the word count ejorr

kinwayne:


24, Season 1-9 Check

I'm just starting to realize these movies are coming back to haunt me

Good morning, Kinwayne. Please, I have a question. Must the story be from First Person Point of View?

Hazkel:

Good morning, Kinwayne. Please, I have a question. Must the story be from First Person Point of View?

yea . give it a shot. have you watched blimdspot. salt ? , or even ultravoilet? the action should jump right into you from these females.

but still do research and in all good luck my dear.

Creeza:
yea . give it a shot. have you watched blimdspot. salt ? , or even ultravoilet? the action should jump right into you from these females.

but still do research and in all good luck my dear.

I have watched blindspot, pretty interesting. My question actually is if the spy must be a male and if it has to be written from a first person POV

Creeza:
yea . give it a shot. have you watched blimdspot. salt ? , or even ultravoilet? the action should jump right into you from these females.

but still do research and in all good luck my dear.

Creeza! Come on bro. This is a competition. Let's give it a rest with these hints stuffs and allow the writers work on their own. There's no point giving one a push.

Hazkel:

I have watched blindspot, pretty interesting. My question actually is if the spy must be a male and if it has to be written from a first person POV

Yes. First Person and the gender being male.

Creeza:
yea . give it a shot. have you watched blimdspot. salt ? , or even ultravoilet? the action should jump right into you from these females.

but still do research and in all good luck my dear.

Please, we are all matured here. Let's act like it.

Fascinating plot. Hazkel, I trust you'll perform. Jetjacky, I trust you too.

Larrysun, you have to kill this.

kinwayne:

Yes. First Person and the gender being male.

Alright. Thanks for the clarification.

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
Fascinating plot. Hazkel, I trust you'll perform. Jetjacky, I trust you too.

Larrysun, you have to kill this.

Lol, thanks for the vote of confidence.

Good afternoon @kinwayne. Most of the Rick riordan novels were written in third person limited : from a character's (in this case, the spy) perspective, but in third person.

Are you implying that we are limited to just 1st person pov, even if third person limited still satisfies "write from the spy's perspective"?

I go write, I go win ;DI go write, I go win

Collins10:
Creeza! Come on bro. This is a competition. Let's give it a rest with these hints stuffs and allow the writers work on their own. There's no point giving one a push.

it was just a hint.

rest your case. Anybody can write a story. but few can write good stories.

And so you know , im just replying her question. i dont know why you had to make a fuxx about it.

GSteve001:
Good afternoon @kinwayne. Most of the Rick riordan novels were written in third person limited : from a character's (in this case, the spy) perspective, but in third person.

Are you implying that we are limited to just 1st person pov, even if third person limited still satisfies "write from the spy's perspective"?

Sorry for the misunderstanding. I was replying her question about the gender of the main character.

You can write in third person or first person. Just write from the spy's perspective.

That's all

Creeza:
it was just a hint.

rest your case. Anybody can write a story. but few can write good stories.

And so you know , im just replying her question. i dont know why you had to make a fuxx about it.

Thank you for editing your post.

Creeza:
it was just a hint.

rest your case. Anybody can write a story. but few can write good stories.

And so you know , im just replying her question. i dont know why you had to make a fuxx about it.

We are not fighting na. I only communicated my feelings.

Number 1, the question was not for you. It was meant for Kinwayne.

Number 2, what you answered was different from what she asked. She asked whether it must be from the writer's point of view and you started talking of movies that involved spies.

Sorry if I made you angry, but it is ideal that you allow these writers do their stuffs. It is not about 'anybody can write stories but few can write good stories'. That statement of yours has nothing to do with any point I even raised.

No vex abeg.

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
Fascinating plot. Hazkel, I trust you'll perform. Jetjacky, I trust you too.

Larrysun, you have to kill this.

Thanks bro, I will start my own preparations today, after exams by God's grace.

Wow! I just realised I'm still in. Huge thanks guys.

Kinwayne I have sent mine and am yet to get a confirmation reply from you.

Jetjacky:
Kinwayne I have sent mine and am yet to get a confirmation reply from you.

I already confirmed, then you sent another copy

kinwayne:


I already confirmed, then you sent another copy

I'm seeing only one sent. Please, if it's two, the right one is the one that has an attachment; it has been edited and proofread. Thanks.

Jetjacky:
I'm seeing only one sent. Please, if it's two, the right one is the one that has an attachment; it has been edited and proofread. Thanks.

I received two copies.. I'll upload the second one that's an attachment as you say..

Reminder

The deadline for submission of stories ends by 11:59pm today.. Please take note.

1. Hazkel

2. Laurelyn

3. Collins10

4. Barrikade

5. Chipappii

6. Tuham

7. Firstgentleman1

8. Talius

9. Larrysun

10. Esixlove

11. Gsteve001

12. Chidexter

13. Jetjacky

14. Prahcetomi

15. Naijachild

16. Drlaykay

kinwayne:


I received two copies.. I'll upload the second one that's an attachment as you say..

thanks

kinwayne:
Submission closed

We are happy following.
You should start posting the stories already . or why the delay?

THE FALCONIAN MISSION BY LARRYSUN


One thing about spies is that you never really know who they work for. And sometimes, even spies themselves don’t know who they really work for.

It had been over twenty-four hours since our cover was blown; but somehow, it seemed as if they were not going to kill us. There must be a reason they were still keeping us alive.

The door of the dark room we were kept in suddenly opened and three armed soldiers stepped in; their faces were shielded in black stocking masks – this was done to hide their identities. The light from the corridor gave me the chance to see my partner who was held there with me; he had been beaten so bloody that he was almost unrecognizable. TJ was a strong soldier who could take more beatings than any other soldier I had ever known; but he seemed to have taken too much of that now.

As the three soldiers stepped into the room, I thought they had come to finish what they had started; they must have been sent by their superiors to shoot us dead. There was no point keeping us alive anymore. Instead, I was grabbed by the men and taken out of the room. At the entrance, just before being dragged away, I looked towards my partner and raised my little finger at him. I was relieved when he managed to return the gesture. None of the soldiers noticed this brief communication between us. Between me and TJ, the middle finger was our code for everything is fine. Two soldiers dragged me down the corridor while the third soldier stayed with my partner in the room. I prayed the soldier wasn’t going to shoot my friend.

I was taken into a brightly-lit room where the mean Colonel Danjuma sat. This man had been behind a lot of bomb attacks in the country. Our mission had been to infiltrate this cabal and kill the Colonel, but we were caught before TJ and I could carry out the mission.

The Colonel sat comfortably behind a large desk. He was smoking a large cigar and blowing out smokes.

“You are Santana, right?” he asked, his expression deadly, “The spy who was sent to kill me?”

There was nothing I could say anyway; my cover had been blown. All I could do now was to await my ultimate judgement.

“Anyway,” said Danjuma, “I have my own assignment for you. This is midday, in six hours’ time, I expect you to bring me the head of the Falcon.”

I looked up in shock. Falcon was the code-name for our superior. He was the person who recruited me and assigned this mission to TJ and I. Because Colonel Danjuma had always remained elusive to the authorities, the Federal Government had required the stealth service of the Falcon to help in killing Danjuma and end all the attacks.

“I’m not going to do that,” I said, “Nothing will make me do it.”

Danjuma smiled unkindly, “I knew you were going to say that, but you have limited choices. The only way to avoid being brutally killed by my soldiers is by doing what I demand of you. If you refuse or disappear, your partner will be killed; and I know you won’t try to disappear because your partner means a lot to you. You have to decide: the Falcon or the partner. You have six hour to carry out the mission. Good luck.” The soldiers took me away.

I took an hour to think about the mission. If I refused to kill the Falcon, the Colonel would kill me and TJ. I couldn’t bear losing TJ; his life now hanged in the balance. TJ was more than a friend; he had become a brother. He was the only person in the world I cared about. To keep my brother alive, I had to kill the Falcon. The Falcon was a title though; if he was killed, another would replace him. Besides, if I didn’t kill the Falcon, Danjuma would just send another mercenary in my stead; especially now that our cover had been blown and he knew who his enemy was. The Falcon was already dead, whether I carried out the mission or not. Even Falcon had trained me never to desert my partner for any reason.

And so I returned to the Falcon, killed him and brought his head back to the Colonel just before my six-hour ultimatum elapsed. The Colonel was pleased.

“You are a true soldier,” he said excitedly, “you belong under my wings.”

“Where’s my partner?” I asked.

“Oh! Your partner,” he signaled to the three masked soldiers, “Take him to his partner.”

TJ was still in the same position he was when I left; his face was still bloody but there was a bullet hole on his forehead. TJ was dead.

I nearly ran mad with anger. Then something totally unexpected happened; one of the soldiers was raising his little finger at me. The little finger! I took a closer look at the corpse in the chair – he wasn’t TJ! I immediately knew what had happened. Without waiting a second later, I attacked the soldier closest to me, and my ally shot the other soldier in the face. It was a joy to see my partner remove his mask and reveal himself.

“Hello buddy,” he smiled at me.

I looked at him sadly, “I’m sorry. The mission is off. I was made to kill the Falcon.”

TJ shook his head and said, “No, the mission is still on.”

“The Falcon is dead!”

“Is he?” he asked as he removed his left boot and revealed his bare foot to me. On his foot was the tattoo of a bird, a falcon!

“You’re the real Falcon?” My astonishment knew no bounds. He had planned everything from the start.

“I am,” he replied as he handed me one of the soldiers’ guns, “Now let’s go and kill all the bastards, starting with Colonel Danjuma.”

WORD COUNT: 1000.

STORY BY COLLINS10

I was pacing around my sitting room. The Air Conditioner was on, yet the room seemed stuffy. Nonso, my younger brother has not returned and I was out of my mind with worry. He had said something about going to buy a new charger. He should be back by now! My phone rang. I looked at the screen. It was 'Boss'.

"Get down to the Burrow immediately! " It was an order. I stood looking at the phone even when the call was over. I just hoped this has nothing to do with Nonso's absence. I threw my jacket around me and climbed on my scooter as I sped to the Burrow. It was an underground building where we usually met. It was in an obscure part of the city.

I got to the Burrow and walked through the narrow semi-dark corridor that leads to the inner chamber. The inner chamber was flooded with light. 'Boss' was sitting in his usual position. Everybody was seated all around him. They were all in black outfits. I looked at my grey jacket and blue trousers and then looked at 'Boss'.

"Brutus! So you finally came after dodging us constantly! " 'Boss' asked in his deep menacing voice.

"Boss..... I have not been dodging the Organisation. " I stuttered.

"Liar! We have not seen you in the last three meetings! Well, you can't run forever. There's a job for you."

I was startled! Another job? This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid recently. I remained silent. 'Boss' puffed out smoke from his cigar and continued.

"This is a mission, Brutus. There is an artifact in the possession of the Morgan Family Mafia. It is a 19th century diadem. It can be worth millions of dollars. You have to get it."

"But Boss, the Morgan Mansion is a big one. How do I know where the diadem is?" I blurted out in shock. 'Boss' laughed.

"Don't play dumb with me, boy! We still have the map that Scorpion brought. You have no excuse this time. We have your brother in the dungeon. You will have him when you return."

He handed the map to me. I had no option. I walked out of the Burrow thinking of Nonso. There was no time to waste. I have to invade the Mansion this night. I got home and studied the map carefully. Going through the fence was the only viable option, though it was barbed. The gates were heavily guarded. There's a back door through which I will enter the mansion. A distraction was my exit strategy. I put all I needed in my bag and headed out, balancing the folded metal ladder under my right arm.

Arriving at the compound, I went to the back and carefully leaned the ladder on the fence. I climbed it and stopped at the top where the barbed wires were waiting for me. Though I was used to navigating through barbs, I sustained injuries before I successfully landed cat-like on the ground carrying my bag. I went to the back door and pushed it. Surprisingly, it jerked open. I peered in.

No one was in sight. I tiptoed inside. I met no one along the hallway and I suspiciously wondered why there was no tight security tonight. I hid behind a door and looked at the map again. Then I darted upstairs. Someone opened the door with his back to it. I seized my gun which had a silencer and pumped a xylocaine bullet into the man's body as I watched him slump. There was another man in the room and I acted swiftly before him. He fell.

The door on the right was marked 'OUT OF BOUNDS'. I opened it. It was the strangest room I've ever seen. There were all sorts of paintings and sculptures. Cowries were scattered all over the tiled floor. The white walls had red markings and a goatskin bag hung at a corner of the wall. The diadem was at a corner. I grabbed it and shoved it in my bag.

I left the room and descended the stairs. This had to be my lucky night. The Morgan Mansion was unusually deserted. I heard footsteps approaching and hid in a little dark room which had a horrible stench of cannabis. I heard the footstep climb up the stairs. I let myself out of the mansion through the back door and waited there, heart beating wildly.

Then a loud scream came from above. The two men I shot have been discovered! The scream attracted three other men at the gate and they ran towards the mansion. I ran out of hiding and bolted towards the gate. I opened it and ran towards where I parked my scooter. Then I sped off to the Burrow. The time was around 1:28 am.

I got to the Burrow and let myself in with my spare key, hoping 'Boss' will be up so that I can take Nonso back. Anger coursed through my veins as I thought of Nonso in captivity. I opened the door. 'Boss' was alone, pacing around and muttering to himself. He looked up at me

"You are back! For a moment, I thought you've been caught! I can't risk anyone giving out information about us."

"Where is my brother?!"

"Brutus, you know how we run things here. No one offends the Organisation and goes away scot-free. Your brother has been eliminated. It's just a lesson so that you won't mess around with us next time. "

I couldn't believe my ears. I glared at him. In a fit of fury, I rushed at him and hit him on the head with the diadem. He fell and started bleeding at the temple. I rushed into the dungeon and turned the light on. My kid brother was lying still on the floor in a pool of his own blood. My legs weakened as I fell on him and let out a shrill cry.

WORD COUNT 1000

STORY BY CHIPAPPII

He wrapped the sweater round his body and bit his lips from the freezing cold. Everything about the country was unfriendly, from the government down to the weather. He couldn't wait to complete his mission and get out of the place. The longer he spent there, the more prone he was to getting sick. He took one final mental note of his environment before the truck drove in through the gates of Shek Prik prison, North Korea.

His phone had buzzed with details of the mission.

"Extract Abdul Hassan."

He didn't want to go and had insisted on it. Now he was in North Korea and not because he was convinced. They had taken the love of his life as a leverage against him and he had no choice, that was two days ago.

He walked uneasily in the chains clogging his hands and feet together. He stopped before the korean prison warder who looked like he could barely see through his tiny eyes.

"What is your name?" the man asked in a slow, horrible English.

"John," he replied. "John Doe."

The warder scribbled something down on a paper in his hands and signaled the gun wielding officer in uniform to take him in. He shoved him into a dark, smelly corridor with rows of iron door and a not so bright light on the ceiling. He opened a door and pushed him in, locking the door back with keys.

He waited for a few minutes in the cold, dark prison room before stooping low to pull off his left shoe. He pushed a button on the sole and it popped open, revealing tiny spy gadgets. He pulled out the earpiece first and plugged it into his ear, pushing a tiny button on it. It gave out a green light and he heard voices from the other side, confirming his communication has been received.

"Now again, which room did you say he was in?" he whispered and the voice replied with the room number.

"And how is Nancy?" he asked. The voice came back with a reply that she was fine.

"All you have to do is extract Hassan and she will be back into your arms again," the voice belonging to Agent Muller added over the line.

"Better pray it goes that easy or I'm going to drown you all," he said and stood up with his shoes back on.

He got to the locked door and picked on it with a pair of strings he had pulled from his shirt and in no time, the lock clicked and he heaved the door open, quietly. He pulled a glock 26 from his right shoe. He walked down the dark corridor and stopped before cell 58. He worked the door open and stood before a short, bearded Persian man.

"Your savior has arrived Mr Hassan," he said and motioned him out of the cell. They walked discretely to the open yard and hid behind a pile of boxes, watching the prison security details and making notes of their movements.

"I need you guys to prep up for extraction, my ETA to the extraction point will be in 30 minutes all things being equal," he whispered into the earpiece.

"Do you have Hassan?" Muller asked and he replied in the affirmative.

"Hey!" a security guard shouted at them.

"Oh shit!" he gasped and pulled Hassan to the floor, dodging hot bullets in time. In a matter of seconds, the whole prison yard was lit with firefight as John clutched onto Hassan, making his way to a parked Toyota truck at the corner.

"Get in," he shouted to Hassan and returned fire with an ak 47 he had retrieved from an officer he had shot dead.

Hasssan climbed into the truck and ignited it by tearing apart and reconnecting wires. He climbed into the truck and it jumped forward towards the gate, taking bullets from all angles of the prison. They mauled the gates down and the truck skidded off into the dirt track, away from gunfire and screams. The prison security followed them in hot pursuit.

"We are out, where are you guys?" he screamed into the earphone.

"Right above you," Muller said and he looked up, observing the yellow chopper hovering over them. The door opened and gun wielding CIA agents flocked down on ropes, engaging the pursuing Korean military in heavy gun duel, killing as many of them as was within reach.

"Get into the chopper," Muller yelled above the noise of the rotors. They got down from the smoking truck and ran into the chopper, Hassan going in first and John after him.

"Nancy?" he asked seconds after the chopper had been in the air.

"Fine, you will get to see her at the headquarters."

The chopper landed on the helipad and they made their way into the building, trailed by eyes of workers. John walked briskly into Director Han's office and stood before him, ravaging him with the anger in his eyes.

"Next time you kidnap my girl to get me to do things I don't want to do, I am going to throw you down the roof of this building, I promise you," he yelled out.

"It was necessary John, Hassan had information we needed and can't afford to lose to the North Koreans," he explained.

"Good for you, but next time, keep my loved ones out of it, do you understand?" he said and Han nodded.

"Where is she?" he asked.

He ran down the stairs to the detention room and pushed the door open, he saw her lying there on the floor, her beautiful skin all white and pale.

"Nancy?" he called slowly and got no answer. He knelt beside her body and scooped her up, he observed the rashes on her wrists and knew she had been overdosed with Scopolamine. He went speechless, bent low and kissed her forehead.

He let her body drop to the floor and stood up with a distance look in his scarlet colored eyes.
"You are dead, Han!" he whispered and tightened his grip on the gun.


WORD COUNT: 1019

THE SPY'S BANE BY GSTEVE001

Squatting on a sloppy roof seventy feet above the ground was difficult enough, and wearing a complete black leather gear under the intense sun didn’t make the situation any better. The heat literally burned through to his skin.

Ben’s phone beeped and he picked grudgingly.

“Tyron,” he whispered. “Don’t you ever call me.”

“You really don’t need this,” a deep male voice spoke and laughed over the phone. “… just making sure you didn’t change your mind-” the voice went off for some seconds while Ben listened to what seemed like a scuffle at the other end.

“Ben,” the voice came online again. “Your mother is stronger than I thought. You have two hours to save her.”

“Tyron,” Ben tried to steady his breath. “When this is over, I’ll kill you personally.”

He mopped the beads of sweat on his head with his glove and slid the phone back into its holster. Tyron’s laughter irked him. Why should this happen when he was just getting to know his mother? Why would his boss suddenly decide to kidnap his mother and use her as leverage to do his bidding? He heaved heavily.

Ben was on the roof of the most prominent bank in the city, just beside its only skylight, ready to go against any rule guiding a spy. He was on a solo mission. At least, that’s what Tyron called it. He bent over the skylight and sprayed a solution on one of its glass panels. The glass dissolved completely, leaving only a screen of yellow smoke in its wake. Ben gaped at the wonder and held the bottle up to his face. It was blank except for the initials ‘T.S’ printed on its cap. Whatever it is that the bottle contained shouldn’t be in anyone’s possession; he saw how dangerous it was.

The office below was almost empty, except for a table and three leather chairs. No signs of vault or cupboard. He jumped into the office and scanned for any hidden camera or alarm system, and found one camera that he deactivated immediately. He set his timer and took out a map to identify the position of the secret vault. When he found it, he mapped it out on the white wall and dialled Tyron.

“I found the vault, now what?” he asked.

“Good,” Tyron didn’t sound elated. “Someone is coming in, kill him.”

“What?”

“Or I kill your mo-”

The door opened and a security guard strolled in. before he could notice his presence in the office, Ben had aimed his gun already. The man stood transfixed, drenched in panic, while Ben fired a shot before he could change his mind. He dragged the body further into the room and locked the door properly.

“I killed him.” His voice broke as if his throat was lined with broken glasses. “What next?”

“Spray the vault and bring the envelope.”

“Tyron, can you please stop this? You are doing this for yourself, not the corporation!” Ben pleaded. He was already impaled by the spear of guilt. An innocent man just lost his life due to his own selfishness. How much more can he take?

“Do that, or I kill her.” He threatened again.

Ben sprayed the vault with the solution and its lock shimmered, then evaporated. If only he could spray some sense into Tyron’s head. He stole a glance at the dead guard and picked the only envelope in the vault, then started with his exit plans.

Getting out of a heavily guarded bank wasn’t as easy as jumping in through a skylight, but he made it. He pulled over in front of an old warehouse and checked the address to be sure. The idea of his mother being held hostage in this dilapidated building for days made his palms itch, and his blood, boil.

When he pulled the door, it opened like a tired engine. He brushed cobwebs off his face and coughed. The warehouse was empty and dark. He could only see, thanks to the dull rays of light that filtered in through the damaged roof.

“Welcome, son.” Tyron’s voice echoed through the room. His voice was deep, upsetting and proud. Ben spurned around and found him standing in a corner, beside a gagged woman who blinked weakly.

“Don’t you ever call me that!” he marched forward and shoved the envelope into his hand. He was angry, yet helpless. He felt like rendering Tyson to pieces, but he wasn’t alone. He was guarded by his loyal dogs and Emily, the director of special operations. And technically, this was one of those special operations.

“Sit.” Tyron pointed to a chair.

“Give her the antidote.” Ben fumed.

“And if I don’t?”

His resolve softened. If Tyron and his cohorts somehow managed to create a solution strong enough to dissolve a high-security vault, no doctor would be able to find a cure to the poison he administered on his mother. He sat.

Emily beckoned one of them to administer another injection on the gagged woman, Ben watched with relieve.

“Is that the antidote?” he asked.

“No,” Emily glanced at Tyron. “It’s something to make her death painless. She knows too much.”

Like in cue, the woman convulsed and stilled, while they all looked on like she was an experimental piece.

“I’ll kill you!” Ben screamed and shot up from the chair. Before he could fire his pistol, one of Tyson’s men had opened fire on him. He fell and tumbled over the chair. Voices became distant, and conversations became strewed. He willed himself to death as his muscles relaxed and his eyes shut weakly.

The air reeked of burnt fabric. He coughed and tried opening his heavy eyelids, but that seemed impossible. Finally, when he was able to open them, he couldn’t see anything and it was eerily dark. He tore his leather jacket and patted his bullet-prove vest, then turned to where he thought his mother’s body would be. “We have a demon to kill, mom.” He said.


WORD COUNT; 1000