Ethan Stark was an aging cop. Considdert old by his partners, he refuses to take on a desk job for a simple reason. And that reason is that he is still fit enough to be on the streets. In fourty eight years he had grown from little, helples baby to Muscled, athletic man. His military cut, black hair and his three day old beard added a lot to his reputation of being a tough cop.
There was a quiet bar in the centre of town. Though it belonged to a company, he was still welcome there for a friend of his is an executive. Ethan was sitting at the bar with a glas of whisky in his hands. He slowly swirled the whisky around until it almost spilled over the edge. Then he sighed and put it back on the bartop. Not wanting to see how much time had passed, he glanced over to the clock and saw that it only had been ten minutes. His friend was late, and not by a little.
Ethan's recent thoughts went out to the fact that time passed him by without him contributing to his environment. He was divorced four times and two steps away from being an alcoholic. His job description existed out of hunting down drugdealers and their network whereafter he was supposed to round them up and lock em up. That had only become routine after his fifthieth bust. Sometimes he just wanted to take the Socom Mark 23 which was stuck in a holster at the back of his belt and place it against his temple. Ethan looked into a reflective object and looked at his reflection with disgust. He saw only an old man wearing a black, open shirt, a white T-shirt, black pants and black boots.
Another five minutes had passed and at last his friend came into the bar. With a lot of hand gestures and laughs he stumbled into the bar with an open bottle of champagn in his hand.
'Ethan, buddy! You made it. Good! I made it too, the deal is made and I'm waiting to cash in on a six digit amount.' Ethan got up and walked over to the man. They gave each other a hand but then his friend pulled him in closer to give him a hug. Ethan suddenly felt that the man loosened his grip. He looked and saw fear on his friends face. His friend was looking outside, which he backed up by a shaky walk towards the window. The bar was on the fifth floor so Ethan wondered what in gods green earth the man could have seen. But then he saw it too. A grey flash passed by the window, too fast for Ethan to see what it was. He too came closer to the window to see what it was. Then he saw it all too well. A truck passed the window, set a blaze by an unknown attacker. The driver inside was screaming as the flames consumed him. Ethan stood there in shock. What could have done this? An animal like roar raged through the city city, creating enough power to shake the windows.
A japanese man stood up and started to run outside screaming:
'Gojira.'
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All you need to do is make a first post like that. People who don't know what Gojira is, stick to flying cars. People who do, don't put it in your post untill my first official post. Be imaginative ...
There was a quiet bar in the centre of town. Though it belonged to a company, he was still welcome there for a friend of his is an executive. Ethan was sitting at the bar with a glas of whisky in his hands. He slowly swirled the whisky around until it almost spilled over the edge. Then he sighed and put it back on the bartop. Not wanting to see how much time had passed, he glanced over to the clock and saw that it only had been ten minutes. His friend was late, and not by a little.
Ethan's recent thoughts went out to the fact that time passed him by without him contributing to his environment. He was divorced four times and two steps away from being an alcoholic. His job description existed out of hunting down drugdealers and their network whereafter he was supposed to round them up and lock em up. That had only become routine after his fifthieth bust. Sometimes he just wanted to take the Socom Mark 23 which was stuck in a holster at the back of his belt and place it against his temple. Ethan looked into a reflective object and looked at his reflection with disgust. He saw only an old man wearing a black, open shirt, a white T-shirt, black pants and black boots.
Another five minutes had passed and at last his friend came into the bar. With a lot of hand gestures and laughs he stumbled into the bar with an open bottle of champagn in his hand.
'Ethan, buddy! You made it. Good! I made it too, the deal is made and I'm waiting to cash in on a six digit amount.' Ethan got up and walked over to the man. They gave each other a hand but then his friend pulled him in closer to give him a hug. Ethan suddenly felt that the man loosened his grip. He looked and saw fear on his friends face. His friend was looking outside, which he backed up by a shaky walk towards the window. The bar was on the fifth floor so Ethan wondered what in gods green earth the man could have seen. But then he saw it too. A grey flash passed by the window, too fast for Ethan to see what it was. He too came closer to the window to see what it was. Then he saw it all too well. A truck passed the window, set a blaze by an unknown attacker. The driver inside was screaming as the flames consumed him. Ethan stood there in shock. What could have done this? An animal like roar raged through the city city, creating enough power to shake the windows.
A japanese man stood up and started to run outside screaming:
'Gojira.'
_____________________________________-
All you need to do is make a first post like that. People who don't know what Gojira is, stick to flying cars. People who do, don't put it in your post untill my first official post. Be imaginative ...