September 2018 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO MOSAIX!

[TheDustyZebra]

RULES:

Write a story inspired by the chosen theme and genre in no more than 75 words, not including the title

ONE entry per person


NO links, commentary or extraneous material in the posts, please -- the stories must stand on their own


WHEN WRITING YOUR STORY, PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS A FAMILY-FRIENDLY FORUM



All stories Copyright 2018 by their respective authors
who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here​

The complete rules can be found at RULES FOR THE WRITING CHALLENGES


Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, 23 September 2018​

Voting ends at 11:59 pm GMT, 28 September 2018​

You do not have to submit a story in order to vote --
in fact, we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing a winner​

The Magnificent Prize:


The Dignified Congratulations/Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers​

and the challenge of choosing next month's theme and genre



Theme:

SHOT


Genre:

Spy Fiction



This thread to be used for entries only
Please keep all comments to the DISCUSSION THREAD



We invite (and indeed hope for) lively discussion and speculation about the stories as they are posted, as long as it doesn't involve the author explaining the plot​

** Please do not use the "Like" button in this thread! **​

 

[Starbeast]

007: Live and Let Drive​

"Uno!"

"You won again, Mr Blonde."

"You owe me $8,000,000.00, Blofeld."

"Tin Tin. Pay Mr Blonde, in rolled pennies."

"How about, Double Or Nothing?"

"I'm listening."

"Shot For Shot. A drinking game."

#

"Yer schwav, Blondie."

"Shanks, Blowface."

"Ish, Blowfuss."

"Mahamerghpppt..."

"I know what, you mean. Hic. I gotta...hic...I gotta go."

#

"Blonde! It's me, Anita Goodsteak. Blofeld, died in a car accident."

"Mzzaframp..."

"Oh James..."

"Shadup ya monkeez fark."

"...I love you."

 

[Jo Zebedee]

COME UP AND SEE ME

Don't judge. To make a living these days, it's not enough to be good at just one role.

Boots. Check. Long. One might say kinky. Room for a stiletto blade.

Blaster. Check. And concealed pistol, too, for those close-up-and-personal moments.

Listening Device.

Chocolate. Raspberry. Call it a little sweetener.

Sleek spacecraft.

Sexy smile.

International sexy space pilot and spy, at your service.

Take your best shot.

And then frame it.

 

[Luiglin]

On His Majesty’s Secret Service

The casino throbbed with noise – the rustle of cards, the rattling of dice, the laughter of winners and the curses of losers.

Beyond, the bar lay under a pall of whispered words.

“Shot of vodka, straight.”

“Jamie Bond?”

She turned. There were more handsome men here but none had his air of dark allure.

“And you are?”

“Richard Styf, my friends call me Dick,” he purred.

She downed the shot, “Of course they do.”

 

[Calliopenjo]

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

I had one chance. I used a biocloaking device to hide in the open area. It made me transparent in more ways than one.

I stood by the Earth’s flag ready with my bioweapon. The only thing that guaranteed death no matter the species. One shot, in the chest area, and it convulsed until it stopped. Target dead.

Before I uncloaked, I ran out of the room. “Mission complete. Ready to transport.”

 

[Cathbad]

First Impressions

I have one shot at this. I head into the casino.

There’s my babe – at the roulette wheel. I approach, swinging my hips with each step.

Wait! Who’s that next to her? No! Not DeMarko – not now!

He spots me, draws a pistol. My purse drops as I extract mine!

Two gunshots – he’s down, my dress has a new hole right between my thighs.

My babe’s screaming…

“Daddy!”

Oh, you have got to be kidding!

 

[Ashleyne]

NICE TRY

She watches blood trickle from his shoulder. He answers the phone.

"Hello.... Yes.... Gunshots..? Really..? Well, I say!"

She tugs her bindings.

"I'll contact you if I hear anything. Goodbye."

He hangs up. "Not a very good aim, are you?"

She refuses to respond.

"Sorry, but I'll be keeping you tied up until I've assassinated Angelo. Can't have you blowing my cover. But hey, be on your best behaviour; I'll buy you an ice cream."

 

[TheEndIsNigh]

The End.

I didn’t hear it, apparently you never do.

However, in the 3 milliseconds it took to pierce my skull and explode my brain I felt something.

Hot?

No not hot.

Pain?

Oh yes, but even that didn’t last.

I missed all the gory stuff, the splatter and blood.

Just my last moments left now, till I am no more.

Ah, here comes the darkness. Now for the great reveal.

Nothing, so I was right.



BANG!

 

[scarpelius]

... with my little eye

"Broncombert, we need information on those cannons." said the major.
"But sir... is painful!"
"Is an order!"
I nodded.
Crossing the no mans land and sneaking behind a guard was easy. I killed him with a single shot but it took me one hour to replace him. Vegans are taller than us.
I socketed out one of my eyes.
"Let the games begin."
The drone took off and cloaked itself.
"I spy..."

 

[Graymalkin]

Calibre

After twelve years of flawless service, six special commendations, and volunteering for the most dangerous assignment ever - to infiltrate WRAITH's head of Global Operations - I was to be fired. And fired by M herself.

The goethite impact armour powered up
"Dermoflage initiated."
I signalled 'Ready.'

At 1200m per second, I'd be among them almost instantly and by morning, WRAITH would need another leader.

"Good hunting, triple 0," whispered M, squeezing the trigger.

 

[D.A. Xiaolin Spires]

Operation: Hoop Codes

The spy held her ear to her wristwatch, listening for the cryptographer's commands.

Around her, the crowd roared.

She repeated the commands. She did as they said—slipped on a mask and uniform.

She jumped onto the court, grabbed the ball and shot.

“A three-pointer. Syracuse wins,” shouted the announcer.

Their March Madness coded message, pulled from the complicated mesh of the bracket, remained intact. The space-jamming aliens would hold off their attack yet.

 

[Cat's Cradle]

On a Whim (Stupid, Stupid Guns)

He used the rifle’s silencer to part the curtains, then watched the man sipping tea at an outdoor café four blocks away.
Not bad for a local buy, he thought, while adjusting the unfamiliar scope. But The Company provides better.
Easy shot, though – right between those dark eyes.
I’d love the practice ... but I shouldn’t stir things up before the target arrives tomorrow.
I wonder who this guy is?

“Oh, why not,” and he fired.

 

[Ragandar]

Directive 401: Insubordinate Agents Will be Shot

She lay on the green, looking through the scope of her golf club-turned-sniper rifle. Her target was talking to someone, a smile on her face that seemed familiar. Why did she have to die again? Something vague about the greater good.

‘Agent?’
-‘Copy.’

‘It’s time.’
She moved her finger to the trigger, hesitated, let go.

‘Now.’
She waited. What did greater good even mean? Her jaw tightened.

‘Agent, take the shot.’
-‘No.’

 

[Danny McG]

They seek him here...

The Sergeant entered the hut and informed his Major the squad was still waiting.

“Good grief, why haven't you shot that spy? The so-called Chameleon, master of disguise”

“Sir, the Captain said-”
“What Captain?” interrupted the officer. They both gasped.

“Quick man, to the woods, I'll check the railway station.”

As the squad searched the trees the Chameleon boarded a train; back in the hut the real Major lay bound and gagged.

 

[johnnyjet]

The Spy Who Caught a Cold

He sneezed. "I feel miserable."

She looked him over. He did look awful.

"Okay, since Mr. Tough Guy didn't get a flu shot…"

"I hate needles. Besides, it's a cold."

"Whatever. Now you want sick pay."

"I got bills."

"I got international spy rings. Here's the deal. Go to this address as a delivery man and get everyone sick."

"Wonderful." He blew his nose. "Then what."

"You get a shot of whiskey. Cures everything."

 

[nixie]

Old Spies never die or fade away.
​

The agent looked up in surprise as the old man hobbled passed.
"Sir are you lost ?.... You can't go in there.

Ignoring him the man carried on into the chief's office.

"Thank god you're here CP"

"I've been retired 30 years what do you want"

She pointed at an old safe, "This, it's the sub disarmament code. We have one shot or it will blow, you're the only one with the know how".

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

All's Fair

Ares and Aphrodite toyed with a mortal's soul.

"She will be my finest courtesan," the goddess said.

"I will use her to send armies to their graves," the god replied.

They hurried to their trysting place.

Hephaestus limped behind them. He could not stop his wife's betrayal, but he could destroy her plaything. He seized the soul, carried to his forge, and fed it to the flames. French bullets ended the life of Mata Hari.

 

[chrispenycate]

Cutting room floor ​

Officially, we were shooting a thriller. Actually, information about the impressively modernistic biophysical facility we were highlighting would be financially appreciated by our sponsors.

Security had gone over our totally standard Taiwanese 360° camera with an electron microscope, expecting to find cunning hidden sensors - testing microphones and lights, too, finding everything as designed.

Ultrahi-def contains more information than generally known.

The film left with us, by limousine, critical data left via refuse chute.

 

[Plucky Novice]

A View to a Kitchen

“Receiving SHOT now, Sir.”

“SHOT?” Grey and drawn from a lifetime of being second best; Sir regarded the young agent wearily.

“Synaptically Hijacked Operative Transfer from target’s personal bodyguard. We have his audio and visual feeds, Sir.”

“How in baked heaven?” Sir brightened.

“SHOT device was inserted during routine tumorectomy following false positive MRI, Sir. Target entering kitchen.”

Sir leant over the agent’s shoulder “Finally, we’ll find out why his cakes are so exceedingly good.”

 

[M. Robert Gibson]

Shot and Stabbed

Shot studied the dossier. Stabbed had apparently gone rogue. The mission: terminate with extreme prejudice.

In Istanbul, Stabbed's last known sighting, Shot headed for the safe house. Evidence of activity, but no Stabbed. Same story in Casablanca and Moscow.
On entering the Paris hideaway, the intense aroma of Stabbed's favoured Gauloises hit Shot just before the blackjack.

Shot awoke, trussed up, head pounding.
"Sorry partner." Stabbed unsheathed her stiletto. "Seems we have the same mission."