Here it is, my first FG&S story. It's rather obvious what genre it spoofs.
CHAPTER 1
The guard yawned through his black balaclava, sat down on the steps, and pulled out his PSP, first fishing around in his pocket to find his copy of Wipeout Pure. The other guard, who happened to be wearing the exact same clothes, noticed this, and spoke up.
"Hey, listen, Frank," he said, "I'm gonna go out and get some smokes. Don't get too wrapped up in that; you never know when some guy's gonna sneak up in a cardboard box, eh? Eh?" Frank looked up; obviously, he didn't get the joke.
"Eh…yeah. Well, anyways, I'll just be a sec." The guard went up the steps, unlocked the door, and stepped out of the room.
Frank shrugged and looked around the guards' lounge for any possible hiding places. The entrance door was right behind him, and pretty squeaky too, so there's no way anyone could sneak up on him through there. There was no one behind the bar, and probably no one hiding in the soda machine.
Room cleared, thought Frank to himself, switching on his PSP.
The other guard walked up to the cigarette machine and looked around at the choices. They were all pretty much the same, but with different descriptors like "smooth", "extra smooth", "double smooth", "double extra smooth", and "mocha". He picked one at random, stuck in a $20 bill, and picked up the carton that popped out a few seconds later.
Or, at least, he would have picked up the carton, if not for the unseen person who had just then put the guard into a chokehold. He knew this would happen sooner or later; I mean, this happens to all guards at one point in their career, right? Regardless, he was taken totally by surprise, uttering nothing but a single, piercingly loud "Gaack!" The figure grumbled.
"Shut up!" His voice was gravelly, like he was yelling, but really quiet.
"Agh!" cried the guard. However, just then, a thought entered his mind. "Ugh...oh, cool! Is this one of those training exercises?" he blurted.
"No." replied the figure.
"Then, what is this?" inquired the guard.
"Shh! Listen, I need to know the location of--"
The guard gasped with excitement. "Dude! Are you, like, a ninja?"
"What? No. Look, I won't kill you if you tell me where to find the--"
"Aw, man, wait until Frank hears about this! This is just like that game!"
The figure mumbled something in an audibly annoyed tone, and then choked the guard unconscious. Pulling out his wrist radio, he dialed a frequency: 133.7. After a second, a voice came out the other end.
"Yeah? What is it, Jake?" said the voice.
"Um, there was a guard here;" began Jake, "he refused to talk."
"Oh...too bad. Well, keep looking for that disc. It's the key to stopping the launch."
"Uh, yeah. You've already told me that. Like, six times." Jake stood up and looked towards the door that the guard had entered through. "Jeff, over and--"
"Hey, wait!" Jake looked back at the radio. "What? What is it?"
"I've got to tell you something about your suit," said the voice. Jake sighed inaudibly, knowing a long-winded technical speech was to follow. Mission Control guys always did that. "Fine...go ahead."
"Well, basically, it's a standard-issue skin-tight sneaky-suit, with a few additions from Research & Development." He chuckled, as if this was some sort of clever comment. "Inside the rubber material are millions of microscopic nanobots, which send a signal directly into your cerebellum, which is some part of your brain, or spine, I think. This allows you full control over all your limbs, using just your mind."
Jake paused. "So, what you're saying is, it lets me move my body…using my mind?"
The voice hesitated. "Yes."
"But...don't I already do that?" asked Jake.
"Well, yeah, if you look at it that way." Explained the voice.
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a throat-clearing sound.
"Um, well, Jeff, we should maintain radio silence. This is Control, over and out."
Jake stood up. He was in his mid-forties, with a stubbly, unshaven face, alert eyes, and muscular build. He was wearing the aforementioned rubber sneaking suit, as well as a number of harnesses and holsters, which, to his knowledge, did nothing. He was equipped with a silenced Beretta M92F with a whole ton of stuff attached: a laser sight, for precision aiming, a little doohickey that screws up lights and electronics, something that had something to do with nanomachines, and a top-mounted aiming sight. Jake was hesitant to ask Control what any of it did, as it was likely to make him spout some gibber-talk about the inner workings of the gun, which he probably read from some Tom Clancy book.
With his alert eyes, Jake looked around the hallway. At the west end was the door to the guards' lounge, which was likely heavily guarded. Jeff entered through a conveniently placed crawlspace in the south end of the floor, and the door to the east lead to some locker room or whatever.
No place to hide the guard...or, at least, that's what a lesser spy would think. Exercising his mental muscles, Jake thought where to stash the body, and came up with an idea.
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