Gaffer

This is a final draft of a script I developed for my MA. I originally wanted to write a story based on the financial situation many football clubs find themselves in. But as I developed the characters I felt the story would be better suited revolving around them, and the focus of the story shifted towards the strained relationshipo between a father and a daughter 

EXT. TRAINING PITCH – DAY

It is a windy, late winter day. On a muddy, bobbled playing field a team of footballers dressed in light blue tracksuits are practicing. The players don’t seem to be very well organised and are acting in a very rowdy manner.

At the side of the field TERRY, 54, a chain smoker with thin grey hair and a weary demeanour, stands alone with his arms folded and wearing an identical blue tracksuit. He watches his team constantly as they continue their passing exercise.

TERRY

Come on lads. Pass it. Use your sodding eyes for Christ’s sake!

His words have no visible effect on the players. He gives a frustrated sigh and puts a cigarette into his mouth. He is about to light it when an agonising scream is heard.

JERMAINE

Arrrrgggghhhh!!!

TERRY looks up and sees JERMAINE, a 26 year old in the mould of a young Ian Wright, rolling on the floor clutching his leg with the rest of the team huddled around him. TERRY runs over.

TERRY

Keep back! For fuck’s sake, keep back, the lot of you!

TERRY reaches JERMAINE and kneels down beside him. JERMAINE is still crying out in pain. The look on TERRY’s face shows that he realises it is a very serious injury.

JERMAINE

Aaah, aaah shit owwww...

TERRY

Someone go call an ambulance. Now!

INT. HOSPITAL WARD – DAY

JERMAINE is lying on a bed. He is the wards only occupant and is half-asleep from the painkillers. His left leg is wrapped in bandages and is being propped up. TERRY and a DOCTOR are standing in the wards entrance. TERRY has a grim look on his face.

DOCTOR

The good news is that it’s not as bad as we first thought. He will play again, but he’s certainly not going to make the rest of the season.

TERRY

Shit.

INT. TERRY’S KITHCEN – DUSK

MOLLY is sitting at a table in a small, but well-furnished kitchen. MOLLY, 17, is pretty in a chavy sort of way, with her brunette hair tied into a tight ponytail. She is reading the evening newspaper sprawled out on the table and is struggling to hold back tears.

There is the sound of a door opening and closing, at which she hastily recomposes herself and closes the newspaper. TERRY enters.

MOLLY

What happened to Jermaine?

TERRY sees the paper lying on the table and sighs.

TERRY

Oh shit, how did they find out already?

TERRY scoops up the paper and from it a postcard falls out. It shows a long sandy beach and the writing in the top right hand corner reads ‘Hola desde España.’ TERRY flips it over and reads it while MOLLY looks on nervously.

TERRY

How is she...?

MOLLY

I’m going out.

She turns and hastily leaves the room. TERRY looks as if he wants to ask her another question, but stops himself. He throws the paper onto the table in frustration.

INT. TERRY’S STUDY – NIGHT

TERRY takes seat by his desk, looking exhausted. He casts his eyes to the wall on which are hung numerous pictures of football teams. The pictures gradually become more recent and show him with the teams he has managed. Some show him lifting trophies.

He rummages through some drawers in his desk before taking out a photo album. He comes to a page depicting a child’s birthday party. It shows a young girl with brown hair about to blow out her candles. The writing underneath the picture reads “Molly’s eighth birthday, 9^th May 2001”.

TERRY then gazes over at a picture on the wall of him lifting a trophy while being showered in champagne by members of his team. The text under the picture reads “Tinchester FC gain promotion to the North East Premier – 9^th May 2001”.

There is the sound of a door slamming and hurried footsteps coming downstairs.

TERRY

(Hopefully) Hey Mols do you fancy going out tonight? Maybe for a pizza or...?

MOLLY (O.S.)

I’m going out!

TERRY

(Looking disappointed) Oh...Ok. But if you change your mind, you know...

There is silence for a couple of seconds as TERRY waits for an answer. The silence is broken as the phone on his desk begins to ring, which he answers almost immediately.

TERRY (CONT’D)

(into phone)

What?

(pause)

Look how the hell could I predict he would get injured?

(pause)

Do you really think I don’t know how important Saturday’s game is?

Suddenly the sound of MOLLY’S footsteps start again. TERRY hears her and focuses on the sound of the front door opening, ignoring the person he is talking to. He hears the door slam shut, at which he exhales glumly and turns his attention back to the phone call.

TERRY (CONT’D)

Yeah yeah, I know you want me to take that holiday. Question is will I still have a job when I get back? I’m not an idiot John.

(pause)

Look look look, just listen. If I don’t, win on Saturday, then feel free to get rid of me.

(pause)

Fi...fine.

(hangs up)

Twat!

EXT. TRAINING PITCH – DAY

TERRY has his players crowded together into a circle. He is in the centre handing out instructions while making excitable gestures with his hands and arms. He constantly turns clockwise in order to look at each member of his team.

TERRY

We’re all upset about Jermain, but we’ve got to put that behind us. It’s the biggest game of our lives coming up, and by God we are going to win.

The team watch him intensely, all looking thoroughly disenchanted. JASON, a young player in his teens, looks very upset and regularly shakes his head.

TERRY (CONT’D)

It’s either them or us for relegation. We all know this isn’t a one man team, so let’s prove that to everyone else!

TERRY looks about his team for a reaction, but doesn’t get one. They continue to look miserable. This irritates him.

TERRY (CONT’D)

Ok. What the hell do I have to do? What the hell do I have to do to motivate you lot?

JASON

(Almost inaudibly) Maybe you should bugger off.

TERRY

What was that?

TERRY takes a couple of steps closer to JASON. JASON stares back defiantly. The team fall silent as they watch.

JASON

Nothin’.

TERRY

No. If you’ve got some grand scheme that will win us the game, then let’s hear it.

JASON

Why, because you can’t think of one?

TERRY pauses, before he starts to laugh darkly. He loses his temper and begins to rant at his squad.

TERRY

Oh so this is how it begins is it? This (he points around at his team) is how the revolution starts? Well before you decide to chuck me out let me just say this. I haven’t won five trophies to be bossed about by a bunch of whiny kids. You lot won’t stand a fucking snowball’s chance in hell on Saturday without me. If you disagree, feel free to fuck right off.

As he speaks nobody on his team dares to say a word. Some of his players snap to attention as a result of the rollicking, others continue to look dismayed.

TERRY (CONT’D)

Everyone else, five laps of the field warm up, then we practice defending set pieces. Go!

The players break away from the circle, clapping and shouting words of encouragement to each other. JASON lingers behind, eyeing his boss with disdain.

TERRY

Anything else?

JASON

(pause)Think you’re so bloody brilliant don’t you?

TERRY

Thank you for your opinion lad, now hop to it!

JASON shakes his head again and sets off after his team. TERRY watches them set off, before he lights a cigarette.

INT. TERRY’S STUDY – NIGHT

TERRY sits at his desk scribbling on various pieces of scrap paper, on which he has drawn diagrams outlining tactics for the next game.

There is the sound of the front door opening as MOLLY returns home. TERRY pauses as he listens to her walk upstairs and slam her door behind her. Shortly afterwards, hip-hop music starts, drifting downstairs from her room.

INT. TERRY’S OFFICE - DAY

TERRY sits behind his desk in his manager’s office, talking on the phone. He becomes increasingly exasperated as the conversation continues.

TERRY

(into phone)

Do I really have to devote three hours of my life stroking the egos of journalists?

(pause)

I don’t care what they are paying...

(pause)

Ok, ok I’ll talk to them for an hour. That fair?

(slams the phone down)

Twat!

He slumps against his seat angrily. He looks at his computer screen, on which is a picture of a tropical holiday resort with a huge swimming pool surrounded by palm trees. TERRY gives a smile, before he reaches for his phone and dials.

TERRY

(into phone)

Hi there. I was just wondering if there are any rooms available for this summer?

(pause)

Yes...yes for two please.

INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR – DUSK

TERRY is walking through the hospital on his way to check on JERMAINE.

INT. HOSPITAL WARD - DUSK

TERRY is about to walk into the ward when he freezes in the entrance. JERMAINE is lying in his bed looking a lot happier than before. Sitting at his bedside is MOLLY. She is holding his hand and is smiling at him happily.

Neither of them notices TERRY standing in the entrance staring at them in absolute horror. This look intensifies when MOLLY leans over JERMAINE and kisses him passionately, after which she hugs him tightly.

JERMAINE looks over her shoulder and sees TERRY watching.

JERMAINE

Jesus Christ!

He pushes MOLLY off him as fast as he can. MOLLY first looks at JERMAINE in confusion, but then turns her head and sees TERRY glaring at her.

MOLLY

Dad, what the hell are you...?

JERMAINE

It’s not what you think gaffer.

TERRY

(With angry sarcasm)Oh really?

JERMAINE

I swear...

TERRY

(Points at JERMAINE) You stay the fuck away from her (turns to Molly) and you...!

TERRY takes a step forward, pointing at MOLLY looking furious. He tries to shout at her but finds he can’t do it. He covers his face with his hand and wheels out of the room.

INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR – DUSK

TERRY walks back down the corridor as fast as he can travel. MOLLY runs after him shouting loudly.

MOLLY

Dad, listen. Jermain and me are...

TERRY

Don’t even talk to me!

MOLLY

Will you listen to me for once? (Pause)Or are you just going to run back to your shit football team?

TERRY ignores her as he comes to a pair of swing doors that he barges through. MOLLY stops following and stands on the other side of the swing doors as they slowly begin to close.

MOLLY (CONT’D)

You aren’t even going to lecture me? God, would it hurt you to try and act like a dad for once in your life?

The swing doors close, hiding her from view. TERRY walks a little further before he stops. He pulls a print-out of holiday resort from his pocket and gazes at it, his look of fury beginning to crack into one of despair.

TERRY

Just like your fucking mother.

He tears up the picture angrily, throws the pieces onto the hospital floor and storms away.

   

INT. TERRY’S KITCHEN – DAY

MOLLY sits at the table texting. She is toasting bread but has forgotten about it. The radio is playing commentary of her Dad’s game. The COMMENTATOR doesn’t sound excited.

COMMENTATOR (V.O)

We’re halfway through the second half and the score remains nil-nil. And despite the importance of this game it has hardly been an inspirational game of football. Just what can Terry Mitchell do to lift his players following the devastating injury to Jermain Lee earlier this week...

As the commentary drones on MOLLY finishes her text. There is a close-up on the final line, which reads “Plz come home mum. Rly missing u.” She gazes at it sadly for a moment, before she presses send and flips her phone shut.

Suddenly the COMMENTATOR’S voice becomes much more excited, at which she turns to face the radio. She doesn’t notice the toaster beginning to smoulder.

COMMENTATOR (CONT’D) (V.O)

Oh but that’s a brilliant pass by Thompson, and he’s played Fenchurch onside. Surely this has to be IT IS!

Through the radio is the sound of a crowd celebrating. MOLLY closes her eyes, looking upset yet resigned at the same time.

COMMENTATOR (CONT’D) (V.O)

That could be the goal that keeps Tinchester FC in the league! And look what it means to everyone here.

MOLLY suddenly smells burning and remembers the toaster.

MOLLY

Shit!

She runs over to the toaster and takes the toast out, burning her fingers in the process.

MOLLY (CONT’D)

Ow, ow, ow!

She cradles her fingers as she casts her eyes to the ceiling, looking as if she is struggling to contain her emotions.

COMMENTATOR (CONT’D) (V.O)

Just when it looked all over, Terry Mitchell has done it again. You just can never write this man off. What an extraordinary couple of weeks it has been for a manager who lives and breathes football...

MOLLY

(In sheer exasperation) God!

She walks over to the radio and slams her hand against the off switch. The radio turns off and she storms out of the room.

INT. POST MATCH INTERVIEW – DUSK

TERRY is being interviewed by the COMMENTATOR after the game has finished. The COMMENTATOR cannot be seen but his microphone is being held out towards TERRY. We hear the sound of the team celebrating. TERRY doesn’t seem to be all that enthusiastic

COMMENTATOR (O.S)

Terry, would you call this the finest moment of your career?

TERRY

Well not for me. I mean full credit to the lads, they’ve been working hard all year, but they deserve this more than I do. I’ve had a good career and it’s time for me to stand aside.

COMMENTATOR (O.S)

(Sounding surprised) Are you telling us that you intend to retire at the end of the season?

TERRY

(looking suddenly relieved) I believe I am.

EXT. FOOTBALL STAND – DUSK

TERRY is sitting alone in the empty football stand, watching the sun slowly begin to sink towards the opposing stand. He takes a big puff of his cigarette, lost in his thoughts.

MOLLY (O.S)

Mum called.

TERRY looks over to see MOLLY walking through the seats towards him. She sits down two seats apart from him.

MOLLY (CONT’D)

She said you quit.

TERRY gives a sad chuckle.

TERRY

Something like that.

MOLLY

You didn’t have to.

TERRY

Yeah I did.

TERRY takes another puff of his cigarette. They both look over at each other at different times, both wanting to say what needs to be said but not knowing how. MOLLY gets up.

MOLLY

When you want that pizza, let me know.

TERRY

Maybe later Mols.

MOLLY stares at him for a few seconds, before she turns and leaves TERRY alone, smoking his cigarette and watching the sun set behind the stand.

FADE OUT:

THE END

I'm back

Well I've been pretty busy at the moment. Working 14 days out of 16 to be precise. I haven't had much time for writing or anything else remotely productive. I'm so close to finishing my first draft from my Renegades novel, I just can't seem to get the energy to finish it. I should get some more time once shifts die down in November. Plus more time for socialising and job hunting I suppose.

Oh and pre-season 3 Stewie Griffen is awesome. That is all

Back again

Hey there. Haven't been updating this as much as I should have. Been busy at work (had two people complaining yesterday that their toasted teacakes were too cold, I mean seriously?), job hunting and visiting my dad and my half brother and sister. It was a good weekend actually, topped off by my dad having to visit A&E because he kanckered his shoulder with the last kick of a game of football he was playing.

Anyway I'll be updating later with a couple of older items. Finding it hard to devote time to properly come up with new material at the moment. I suppose trying to find a new source of employment is kind of more important, but it's frustrating when you consider how close I am to nearly finishing my first draft of 'the Renegades'. Also considering setting up a Deviantart account to gain a bit more exposure, and if things get desperate, well there's always fanfic.

Deathly Hallows - Alternate Ending

Was visiting my friends recently in Newcastle and we got talking about how poor the ending to the Harry Potter series was (as well as including an interesting rant as to how Ginny Weasley turned into a two dimensional slut). I thought I'd try to come up with something better. Don't read if you're one of the five people in the world not to have read the last HP book

Harry and Voldemort circled each other, surrounded by both sets of their supporters, in the great hall of Hogwarts. The silence was almost unbearable, yet nobody dared speak. Everyone’s attention was firmly fixed on the two figures, about to commence the final duel that would determine the future of all wizards, indeed the entire world.

     “You honestly believe that you can defeat me Harry?” spat Voldemort, his snakelike eyes filled with malice.

     “Yes, I do” Harry retorted, calm and collected with little emotion in his voice. “This is where it all ends Voldemort. I am going to defeat you, here in front of the entire school, and you will never hurt anyone ever again.”

    “Oh please!” Voldemort sneered. “You honestly expect that your plan can work? Those ‘who is the rightful owner of the Deathly Hallows’ and ‘who is the true master of the Elder Wand’ plot points are overly confusing and needlessly complicated.”

    “I agree” Harry replied.

     “Well how do you intend to defeat me then Potter?” Voldemort hissed.

     “In a much more simple and satisfying manner” Harry told him.

     Voldemort laughed and licked his lips. “And what would that be then?” he asked mockingly.

    This time Harry said nothing. Instead he pulled out a pistol from under his robes and shot Voldemort five times in the chest.

    As the body of his nemesis crumpled to the floor in a heap, Harry turned to look at the stunned spectators. “Seriously, why the hell am I, like, the first person to think of that?” he asked them incredulously

Jane

Finally for today, here's a short story I submitted for a ghost story writing competition. I didn't win before you ask, though someone on the same MA did.

Jane

“It only started just after her birthday actually” Emily begins to explain as she wipes the soap suds off the chopping board. “A couple of days after her party she was out in the garden playing with her teddies when she comes back in asking for some tea and cakes. I told her that she couldn’t because dinner would be ready in a couple of hours. And then she says ‘no not for me, for my new friend. She’s just come over for tea.’ At first I thought she meant that new doll you got her for her birthday, but then I see her sitting on the lawn talking to herself. She spends almost all day out there now, just playing with this imaginary friend.”

      I smile as I cradle my hot mug of coffee. “It’s perfectly natural for a child Hayley’s age to have an imaginary friend” I reply. “I would encourage her. It shows she has an active imagination that isn’t constrained by those blasted video games you buy her.”

      “But that’s just it Mum. She hasn’t touched her DS in days. Before I had to pry it from her hands with a crowbar.”

      My smile broadens. “Good that she’s got some sense in her at last” I remark, sounding as smug as I feel.

     Emily throws some spoons into the sink with a heavy clunk. “Oh don’t start Mum. It’s what kids do these days.”

      I decide to agree to her request. I’m also fed up with arguing over the upbringing of my only grandchild. I gaze through the window that looks out over the long, thin garden surrounded by tall brick walls. My seven year old granddaughter Hayley is sitting on a picnic blanket spread over the immaculately mowed lawn, surrounded by stuffed animals. She is paying no attention to them however. She is instead pouring an imaginary cup of tea from a plastic teapot, before placing the cup down at her side. All the while she is chatting away merrily as though she is playing hostess to an extremely special guest.

       Watching her play reminds me of my own childhood. This is mostly because I used to conduct my own tea parties in this very garden. This house has been passed down through my family for six generations now, always on the mother’s side. I inherited the house at the age of twenty when my own mother died, and lived in it for thirty five blissful years with my husband before he too passed on. Then Emily fell pregnant with Hayley at the same time that my son in law got a job in the city, so it became very convenient for them to move in whilst I took residence in a small rented flat down the road.

     This house is at least fifty years older than all of the neighbouring buildings, and is also a lot bigger. It is the only break in a long row of terraced houses that flank a moderately busy road leading to the centre of town. It is of early Victorian design, built out of dark stone and is three stories high. The only parts of its interior that have been unchanged during my lifetime are its heavy oak panelled doors and its uneven wooden staircases. This house means everything to me and I was heartbroken when I moved out of it. Whenever I return I can almost sense the building welcoming me home.

      When I undertook a little piece of research into its history I discovered that it was initially intended to be a school. It had served that purpose to begin with, but only for a decade. Then there was a terrible scandal in which a girl whom had been consistently abused and beaten by the teachers died at their hand. They had buried her body in the garden and claimed she had run away. It would take a further eight years for her body to be found, by which time the school had already been closed. Subsequently the house had been abandoned for many years, until my great, great grandparents bought and took residency in it. I’m not sure why they were attracted to a property with such a grisly history, but secretly I am glad they were.   

       I take a hearty sip out of my coffee. “I had an imaginary friend too you know” I tell Emily as she pulls the plug out of the sink.

     She gives me a strange look, as if she finds my statement difficult to believe. “I can’t imagine you having an invisible friend” she remarks.

      “Her name was Jane” I reveal as I summon up memories of my childhood, something I am finding increasingly more difficult to achieve with each passing year. “She was a very pretty thing, tall and skinny with very long red hair and an immeasurable number of freckles. She was always dressed in the same flowing white nightdress in her bare feet, and she always carried this raggedy bear with one of its button eyes missing.”   

     “That’s pretty in depth” Emily replies. “You talk like she was actually real.”

     “Well to me she was as real as my mother and father.  Sometimes I could have sworn that she was standing at my side actually talking to me. We would spend all day playing hopscotch, having skipping competitions and then finishing off the day with pretend tea and scones. Amazing what the imagination can come up with, particularly that of a child as young as Hayley. ”

      By now Emily is no longer paying attention to my sentimental ramblings. She has returned to staring at her daughter through the kitchen window. Hayley is now playing pat-a-cake with herself, outstretching her arms rhythmically as if there is someone clapping hands with her in tandem. She loses her rhythm and throws her hands up in the air in defeat, happily giggling to herself. As she watches her Emily has a look of concern on her face that only a mother could recognise. “I’m really worried about her Mum” she eventually utters.

     “Nonsense, let her have her fun.”

     “But this is bordering on obsession. Her behaviour has completely changed since she started believing in this friend. ”

      “Children are like that. They’ll throw themselves into a brand new hobby with all the enthusiasm in the world until something else gets their attention. She’ll grow out of it.”

       My words have not managed to reassure her. “How long did it take you to grow out of it?”

      “About a year I think. One day I was playing with her as I always did; the following day I woke up and it was as if she had never existed. I was actually quite upset. I remember feeling as if she had abandoned me, or moved away. I was right as rain a week later though.” I am amazed that I can remember all of this in such great detail. I wonder if my belief in Jane had a bigger effect on my childhood then I remember.

        Emily closes her eyes and exhales loudly. “I know you think I worry too much, but she changed so fast. I just want my little baby back!”

      “Don’t all parents?” I ask as I drift into memories of Emily’s childhood. There were no imaginary friends to cater for with her; she was as practical then as she is now. How could it possibly have been thirty three years since I first held her in my arms?

     Emily pulls off her rubber gloves and throws them onto the draining board agitatedly. “Could you go talk to her? She might respond differently to you.”

     “You don’t need me to do that Emily. Just accept it and play along with her.”

      “I’ve tried but I’m just no good at that sort of stuff. Please Mum, just for a minute.” 

    Finishing my coffee in one large gulp I rise up from my seat. “Let’s meet this new friend of hers then” I remark as I move to the door leading to the garden, Emily following closely behind me.

    I step into the warm summer evening and the smell of freshly cut grass. I take the gravel pathway at the side of garden towards where Hayley is sitting on the picnic blanket with her back to me, so all I can see is her long blonde hair. She is singing, ring a ring a roses it sounds like, and is pouring out yet more imaginary cups of tea. “Hello sweetheart. Lovely day for a tea party isn’t it?” I say as I draw closer.

      She doesn’t reply. She continues to pour the tea, thoroughly absorbed in her own little world. Now standing right behind her I kneel down so I am almost talking into her ear. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?” I suggest in the hope of gaining a reaction. Again nothing. “How about I go inside and get you both a big glass of orange squash?” I then ask.

     “No thank you Grandma” Hayley replies plainly, not turning to look at me.

     “Why ever not? Orange squash is your favourite, and I’m sure your friend would like some.”

     Hayley pauses, before saying as if it is the most natural thing in the world “because she doesn’t know what orange squash is.”

      Now I begin to see why Emily has been having concerns. I have never seen my granddaughter this uncommunicative before. I am getting the distinct impression she would rather I left her alone completely. Behind me Emily takes a step forward but I raise my hand to stop her.

     “Well I see you have plenty of tea, but you seem to be running low on cakes. How about I go inside and get you some nice current buns? Maybe some scones and jam as well. Your friend knows about scones and jam I take it?”

      Hayley cups her hands over her mouth, leans to the right and begins to whisper, as though she is talking into the ear of someone sitting beside her. She then turns her head to the side, now receiving instructions from her invisible friend. “Yes please Grandma, she would really like that” Hayley finally replies.

     “Well let me go get some for you then” I say as I rise to my feet again. I make eye contact with Emily and give her a reassuring smile before I begin to trundle back up the path.

      Suddenly Hayley calls out “Grandma.”

      I turn to see her staring at me with her deep blue eyes fixed rigidly on my position. Smiling gently I ask “yes sweetheart. What is it?”

      “Jane says she’s really missed you.”       

The Renegades - Prologue

Early this year I did a writing for children module on my MA, during which I began to fully develop a new idea for a childrens novel that I have had knocking about for quite some time now. It went a lot better than I anticipated, to the point where I ended up submitting the first five chapters of what will be my first overall draft for my final portfolio.As it stands I am about 6-7 chapters away from having a complete first draft, and I aim to have it done by at least Christmas, ideally by late October, early November. Depends how many scones I end up serving in the meantime.

This particular extract will either be my prologue or my third/fourth chapter. I had a lot of shenanigans placing it when I was compiling my portfolio. I like it as an introduction, but everyone else thinks it should be included after introducing my other main character. But anyway, it kind of stands alright on its own, provided you're hunky dory with the concept of teenage superheroes. Hope you enjoy it.

   

The alarm rang out into the night over the rooftops of London. People in the nearby houses woke up groggily at the sound of its high pitched whine, but when it stopped a few seconds later it didn’t take them long to return to sleep. However, this presented an entirely new set of problems for the robbers that had activated it.

    “I thought you’d shut down the alarms” the group leader hissed at his subordinate.

     “Only the ones I know about. That alarm wasn’t on the schematic” his subordinate hissed back, now beginning to sweat underneath his balaclava.

     “Whatever, just get this thing open” the leader replied, shining his torch at the large metal door. His subordinate nodded and placed a circular device over an electronic keypad at the doors side. He pressed some buttons and small blue screen lit up as thousands of possible combinations of digital numbers flashed past.

     His leader kept on staring at the safe door with greedy intent. Once he had possession of its contents he could retire, and with enough money to last the rest of his life. Years of small time bank jobs and hiding from the police had finally paid off. After this final job he could put his life of crime behind him and buy himself a large villa somewhere hot and out of the way. Maybe he could bag a pretty young lady or two.

      They had planned this operation meticulously, watching the research centre for weeks to learn the routines of its employees. Having picked the night where they would encounter the least resistance, it had simply been a case of cutting off the building’s main power supply before restraining the security guards and few late working researchers. Only then could they begin breaking into the safe, in which lay the object they were being paid a large amount of money to retrieve.

      The device gave a loud chirp as it completed its task, which was followed by a loud clunk as the safe unlocked. Moving forward slowly, as if doing so would wake up a monster lurking behind the metal door, the leader grasped the circular handle and began turning it like the wheel of a ship. It was stiff and obviously not opened very often. There was another clunking sound, and pulling the handle back the door slowly swung open. The two robbers picked up their torches and slowly moved inside.

     The interior was filled with shelves and drawers, on which were numerous files and paperwork. The two crooks ignored these and continued to search the rest of the interior. Eventually the light from their torches fell onto a silver coloured metal briefcase lying on a shelf. When they saw it they both gave relieved smiles, before the leader picked it up by the handle.

      Picking up his radio from his belt he said into it “We have the case. How are our hosts?”

      In a different part of the building his second accomplice answered “Oh they’re just fine. They don’t seem to mind too much that we’ve outstayed our welcome.” She smiled at the six people lying at her feet with their hands and feet bound with tape, and more strips covering their mouths.

    She cackled happily as she looked around the darkened laboratory, filled with turned off computers and tables she had overturned just for the heck of it. She fiddled with a strand of long blonde hair protruding from under her balaclava, before she began to reload the rifle she was holding. The hostages began to murmur fretfully and squirm against their bonds as they watched her. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. If I was going to shoot you I’d have done it ages ago” she taunted.

     Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass, at which she raised her gun and looked about the room. The light from the torch attached to the end of her rifle found nothing, the only movement coming from her restrained prisoners. “If whoever made that noise doesn’t show up my trigger finger might get itchy” she shouted into the darkness. She got no reply. Slowly she began to inch forward, her eyes straining to see any sign of movement. “Don’t think I won’t do it! I ain’t exactly little Miss sunshine” she bellowed.

     “Who are you talking to?’ a voice spoke from behind her. She whirled around in alarm and came face to face with her two colleagues, the leader holding the briefcase in his hand.

     “I think we’ve got a snoop somewhere nearby” she told them.

     “You mean that shattering glass wasn’t you?” the male accomplice asked.

     “Why would I go about breaking windows you idiot?” she hissed at him.

     “Ssssssshhh” their leader hushed. It was then that they heard a door opening and the patter of footsteps down a nearby corridor. They instinctively drew closer to each other. This hadn’t been part of the plan. They had made sure to cover all areas of the building and had found nobody but those already taken hostage. This meant that whoever was making those noises had only just arrived.

     “I don’t suppose it could be...you know...those rumours about those vigilantes?” the male accomplice stammered, now sounding very nervous.

       “Oh don’t be so daft. They don’t exist; it’s a bunch of fairytale rubbish” the female accomplice muttered to him under her breath.  

      “Shut up” the leader barked loudly as the footsteps returned, closer than before. Suddenly the lights in the room were turned right up, momentarily dazzling everyone. Only when their eyes became accustomed to the light did they see the teenage boy standing in the doorway.

      He was tall and muscular with straggly, unkempt blonde hair. But what amazed everyone was that he wore a suit of armour, with boots on his feet and brown gauntlets over his hands. He was holding a shining, silver, round shaped shield and a sword that sparkled in the light. Staring at the crooks with a look of defiance he said “you villains fight with no honour!”

      A couple of seconds passed in silence, before the crooks burst into laughter at the sight of him. “Oh so we have no honour?” the female accomplice spluttered. “Get a reality check kid. This isn’t the Battle of Hastings.”

      The boy ignored them. “I do not wish you to force my hand. Leave now before you give me no other option!”

     “Oh come off it” the male accomplice snickered. “What are you going to do, joust us?”

     The boy simply gave a wry smile. He pointed his sword towards them and muttered under his breath “Luna empiriasta enka.” The looks on the crooks faces changed from mirth to astonishment as the sword began to glow a bright blue colour, bathing the room in its fierce light. They could only watch as the boy pulled back his sword behind his head and swung it vertically downwards, at which a ray of blue light shot out of the blade in their direction. It passed straight through the tables standing in its way, cutting them clean in half. The three crooks panicked and dived to the floor as it hit the wall behind them, cutting its way through that as well.

       Suddenly feeling more scared then she had ever felt before the female accomplice grabbed her rifle, got to her feet and aimed at the boy. “Don’t even think of trying that again!” she bellowed.

      Now it was the boy who was laughing. “Take your best shot young crone” he taunted as he raised his shield, which was also glowing in the same blue light. Not wanting to give him another chance she fired.  But the bullets did not reach their target. They simply rebounded off a blue aura surrounding the boy’s shield. The female accomplice could only watch in horror as the bullets fell harmlessly to the floor.

      “How did you do that?’ the leader uttered in disbelief.

       “If you find my abilities impressive, wait until you see those of my comrades” the boy replied mysteriously. After he spoke some of the hostages began screaming into the tape covering their mouths. The leader turned to see them staring at the windows, and when he looked he also nearly cried out in shock.

      Through the glass was a teenage girl dressed entirely in purple. From her matching skirt and top completed with knee high boots over some stockings. The top part of her face was covered by a mask that looked like it had been made out of ivy, and similar strands of plants were entwined about her body and in her purple coloured hair. This was nothing, however, to the pair of gigantic, brightly coloured butterfly wings on her back, which she was flapping effortlessly to maintain her position, floating in mid-air three floors above the ground.

      The girl gave a happy wink at the stunned spectators, as from her hands purple coloured bolts of electricity fizzed towards the window. When they made contact a hole appeared in the centre of the glass, growing in size until it was big enough for the girl to fly through. Once she had passed into the room the hole shrank until it had sealed itself shut, with the glass pane completely undamaged. The girl landed elegantly before saying “don’t suppose you’ve seen many teenagers do that before?”

       This was too much for the crooks, and they began scurrying towards a fire escape in the corner. The girl waited until they had almost reached it, before sending more bolts of purple electricity towards a fire hose hanging on the wall. None of the crooks saw the hose slowly begin to unravel itself, as if it had a life of its own. The female accomplice only became aware of it when it wrapped itself around her body from her shoulders all the way down to her ankles, causing her to topple to the floor. The other two paused as they watched this happen, before barging through the fire door in order to save themselves.

     “Come back you cowards!” the female accomplice shrieked after them as she wriggled against her bonds, but finding herself unable to escape.

    A pair of purple boots walked into her line of sight. “How do you like being the one all tied up then?” the girl smiled at her.

    “Don’t get clever with me missy” the woman spat. “There’s no way the two of you will catch my colleagues now!”

   “Who says there are only two of us?” she remarked casually.

    The two remaining crooks were now running down a metal staircase clinging to the side of the building, normally reserved for emergencies. This led them into an empty courtyard surrounded by high brick walls, which was filled with delivery trucks during the day, but was now empty. The only light came from their torches and the orange glow of some streetlights over the far wall.

     “Oh dear God what do we do!” the male accomplice fretted. “It’s them, it really is them. We are so screwed!”

     “Just shut up will you!” the leader barked as he paused to catch his breath. “We just need to find a way over the wall to the car and we’ll be fine!”

      The male accomplice obediently fell silent, and began frantically looking about him, trying to find a way of escaping. His eyes travelled all the way up to the building’s roof, and when he saw the outline of another person standing on it he gave a panicked yelp. This coincided with the outline firing an orb of green light at him.

   The leader had seen them as well, and pulled the male accomplice out of the way just as the green orb hurtled past, colliding with the tarmac and disappearing in a puff of smoke. “What are you trying to do, kill us?” the leader bellowed, trying to sound as defiant as possible.

      “Actually that was an electro-magnetic pulsar, designed to send an electrical message through the nervous system to the subjects brain with the intent of causing unconsciousness!” the figure replied, moments before leaping off the roof. The figure landed on its feet with a loud thump, before drawing itself up to its full height completely unhurt.

      It was clad head to foot in a suit of metal armour that covered every part of its body. The think metal plates covering its torso were coloured a deep black, as was the helmet which completely encased its head, save for a red tinted visor and a small slit for its mouth. Mounted on its shoulders was what resembled a pair of cannons, with their barrels glowing a gentle green whilst trained directly on the position of the two crooks.

      The leader, now beginning to feel truly scared, pulled out his pistol from his belt and said “don’t come any closer, or I swear I’ll...”

     “Fire your gun and watch the bullets bounce off my titanium infused armour?” the figure replied, its voice unmistakably that of a girl and sounding like it was speaking through a microphone. “Sorry, but that’s not going to work on me, or my teammate for that matter.”

     “What teammate?” the leader asked.

     Immediately there came a loud crashing sound from behind them. They whirled around and saw that a massive hole had been punched in the wall, throwing bricks and dust into the courtyard. Through the debris stepped another teenage boy, who had evidently just smashed his way through. He was tall and bulky, and only wore a pair of jeans revealing the top half of his body. His skin seemed to glint in the low light, and as he stepped closer the two crooks realised that this was because his skin, from his bare feet all the way up to his face, was made out of jagged white diamonds fused together. His feet made loud clunking sounds against the tarmac as he moved forward, and he gave a brilliant smile which literally sparkled at them.

     “I’ve got a question for you guys” the figure said in a deep voice. “On a scale of one to ten, just how cool am I? Be honest now.”

      The crooks didn’t reply, because seconds later they took off in different directions. Giving a laugh the boy yelled “bit old for tag aren’t you guys?” before setting after the male accomplice. The girl in the armour raised her arm as a small cannon emerged from the armour around her forearm. She quickly fired, and the male accomplice stumbled as he felt some wires wrap tightly around his legs, causing him to fall to the floor. He was then picked up by his neck and hoisted up off the floor by the diamond boy. He thrashed and kicked but the boys grip was unbreakable, holding him up as if he were some sort of ragdoll.

     “Please” he spluttered in terror, “don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

     “Tough” the diamond boy grinned at him. “You should have thought about the possibility of being stopped by a band of super powered teenagers before you broke the law.”

     “His boss escaped through your hole in the wall” said the armoured girl.

     The diamond boy didn’t look too upset. “Well it’s not like he’s going to get far is it?” he replied.            

      The leader had run through the ruined wall and was now tearing down a deserted alleyway. It emerged onto a small residential road and he saw the getaway car parked on the pavement. He began to feel a warm, encouraging relief fill through him. He was still grasping the briefcase tightly, and with the other two now out of the picture he could now claim all the money for himself. He stopped and looked about him, and when he was sure the coast was clear he ran towards the car faster than he had ever run before.

     He was only metres away when a ball of fire suddenly fell from the sky onto the car, causing it to explode violently. The force of the blast pushed the leader onto his back and made his ears ring. Time seemed to pause for a moment as he lay on the pavement in a complete daze.

     He wasn’t aware of someone standing over him until they said “I hope your insurance was up to date on that.” The leader looked up and saw the blurry outline of another teenage boy, wearing a jet black hoodie and a pair of dark trousers and boots. His clothes were padded in a way similar to bullet proof vests, and his hood was up over his head. Only the bottom half of his face was visible, the rest of it covered by a black mask that completely covered his face from the mouth upwards, with slots only for his eyes.

      The leader realised he had dropped his gun during the blast, and turning his head he saw it resting just out of his grasp. The boy saw him looking and said “you won’t be needing that.” He then held out his hand, from which an orb of fire appeared hovering in his outstretched palm. The boy casually flicked this fireball to where the gun was resting. There was a fierce crackling sound as it hit the pavement, followed by an acrid burning smell. When the fire orb had disappeared the leader gawped at his gun, which was now half melted and was welded to the ground.

      The leader looked back up and watched as the boy in the hoodie was joined by the purple haired girl, the blonde haired knight, the girl in the armour and the diamond boy, forming a tight circle around him. He could only stare back at them, knowing full well that he had been beaten.

      “Are his friends sorted out?” the boy in the hoodie asked his comrades.

      “All restrained and accounted for” the blonde knight replied, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.

      “We should do the same with this guy sharpish. I’ve intercepted police transmissions saying they’re on their way here” the armoured girl announced urgently.

      “Wait” the leader croaked. “How did...you do that. Who...are you?”

      “Well I’m Nymph” replied the purple haired winged girl.

      “Sir Matthew at your service” boasted the blonde knight.

       “I’m Cybergirl” said the armoured girl.  

       “You can just call me Diamond” the diamond boy grinned.

       “And I’m Fireflash” the hoodie boy concluded, “and we’re the Renegades!”