Home » The Archives » Chapter 9 » Regrouping and Recouperation
| Re: Regrouping and Recouperation [message #145 is a reply to message #144] |
Sun, 22 July 2012 19:21   |
artisticrainey
Messages: 1228
Registered: July 2012
Location: Northern Ireland
Karma:
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Field Commander
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"Behind me is Number Ten Downing Street," Giles Baxter, reporter for BBC News, began, "home of Prime Minister Baker and her family. Earlier this year, however, a terrifying ordeal could have led to this house being bereft of its occupants, and the country in mourning for its leader, if not for the valiant deeds of International Rescue.
"Earlier today Number Ten issued the following statement in response to our inquiries over the situation..."
As Giles spoke, the words appeared as writing on the screen.
On Monday April 19th of this year, Prime Minister Baker, her husband Gerard, their sons, Alexander and Toby, and their chauffeur, Thomas Deveraux, were caught up in events that would have led to tragedy, if not for the brave actions of International Rescue. A freak accident caused by the inclement weather, led to a cruise ship crashing into London Bridge, whilst the Prime Minister's limousine was crossing. It was only as a result of the actions of International Rescue that there were no fatalities, and additionally, that the cruise ship involved could be salvaged.
Prime Minister Baker would like to give her deepest thanks to the crew that worked to save them, and has no doubt that without their bravery, lives would have been lost.
Thank you.
"It was a harrowing day, and the nation held its breath as International Rescue carried out its fantastic rescue." The camera zoomed out and panned slightly to the left as Giles continued. "With me now are Fiona Brotherton, my fellow BBC reporter who was on the scene at the time, and PCs Brian Meehan and Stephanie Atkins, who were also there. Fiona, describe to us the feeling from on-site that day."
"The reaction of the general public on the day was one of abject horror," Fiona said. "All eyes were glued to the limousine teetering on the precipice of the bridge, until International Rescue arrived on the scene, when some people began to cheer them. Thankfully there was no mass-panic. The people were more in awe of the great Thunderbird machines, and in desperate hope that the Prime Minister and her family would be saved."
"Fiona, you managed to speak to one of the IR members, a feat never before achieved by the media. What did he say to you?"
"Well, Giles, I can't say I got much out of him. In true International Rescue style he was largely tight-lipped."
"Thanks, Fiona." Giles moved his microphone towards the police officers. "PC Meehan, as we've heard the crowd were mostly well-behaved. What were the roles of the police force?"
"Well," Brian said, "we were there obviously as the immediate response to the emergency situation. It quickly became apparent that there was little we could, nor was there anything the RAF could do, so we then ensured the peace was kept until International Rescue arrived, and whilst they carried out their work."
"PC Atkins, what was your experience of the day?"
"Well, me, like my colleagues, were on 'and to provide extra s'curity for the rescuers, makin' sure no one took pictures or the like. It were a bit 'arrowing watching the two men climb up the bridge in that rain. Must've bin awful. Me 'art went into me mouth when I saw one of 'em slip, but 'e made sure Prime Minister Baker, 'oo 'e were brining down, didn't get 'urt. I tell ya, it was fantastic and terrifying to watch at the same time."
"Thank you, PC Atkins, and Fiona and PC Meehan. This is Giles Baxter, reporting on another fantastic achievement by those heroes, International Rescue."
xxxx
The man with his head bent over a pint of bitter cut a lonely figure as he sat in the Horse and Axe Bar. On the wide screen televiewer screen above him, the Ned Cook show was being broadcast. An American import, it wasn't usually screened. This particular one, however, focused on one of the hottest topics on peoples' tongues all around the globe: International Rescue. Christopher glanced up; he pushed his glass from one hand to the other across the damp bar as he waited for his friend to arrive. He watched the screen with a blank face; he wasn't sure how to feel.
The barman followed his eye-line as he dried a glass, and set it on the counter behind him.
"International Rescue, eh? What a bunch of amazing people, right mate? I mean, they put themselves in danger to save others, without getting paid, and without any personal recognition. Couldn't even add it to their CVs if they left, could they? I tell you, they must be some really amazing people."
Some of them are, Christopher thought, and took another swig of his drink.
"Cat got your tongue?" The barman asked.
Christopher started and put his glass down, wiping off his mouth.
"Sorry, mate. Just a bit pre-occupied."
The barman smiled briefly, before turning to put away another glass. Christopher looked down at the slowly swirling dregs of his drink, his face still impassive. That was the start of the decline, he thought. That Fiona woman...and then the uncovering of the blatant discrimination in the organisation... He shook his head, and his lips thinned. Still, it wasn't all bad. He glanced up at the screen, lifted his glass, and almost imperceptibly, tipped it at the images flashing past. Here's to you, guys. It was a good ride while it lasted. He drained the drink, just as his friend arrived.
Post by ArtisticRainey on 11/20/2006
  
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