Challenge 1 Response
Jan. 3rd, 2006 03:27 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ashthedrabbleTitle: Dealing With Differences
Fandom: Spooks
Character: Peter Salter
Word Count: 300
Rating: FRM
Notes: Early Peter, just after he's joined MI5.
Additonal Notes: The drabbles so far have been cheery. This, I warn you, is not.
Sure, he’d been in the army, but MI5 was different. Almost too different, like he wasn’t really cut out for this. He laughed a little to himself in the darkness at that notion.
Peter Salter, afraid of a life of danger, intrigue and bloody hard work.
He moved on in the darkness with all the stealth of SAS days put to good use. He found his rendezvous point in minutes, approaching the dark shack with caution. There was a small light on inside, part of it visible through a hole in the blackout curtains. He peered in through the hole.
No sign of enemy invasion.
Peter took in a deep breath as he reached the door of the shack. He turned the key in the lock, opening the door with a soft click. He squinted as he entered the room, his young eyes trained for the night. The room was bathed in light.
And the walls were bathed in blood.
His first dead body lay on the floor before him. Peter had been trained for this sort of thing, been told the procedures to follow, what to do with the body until backup arrived to dispose of it, but no-one had prepared him for the thoughts that hit his mind.
This man was alive yesterday. I spoke to him, wished him luck.
But as soon as those thoughts became conscious, so did the memories of his training. He set about cleaning up, calling for backup, all the necessary steps were taken.
It shocked Peter how easily he could switch himself off, how suddenly desensitised to the body he was. He couldn’t feel the sickness in his stomach, could barely see himself shaking.
Oh yes, MI5 was certainly different to the army.
But, strangely, it was nothing he couldn’t deal with.
Fandom: Spooks
Character: Peter Salter
Word Count: 300
Rating: FRM
Notes: Early Peter, just after he's joined MI5.
Additonal Notes: The drabbles so far have been cheery. This, I warn you, is not.
Sure, he’d been in the army, but MI5 was different. Almost too different, like he wasn’t really cut out for this. He laughed a little to himself in the darkness at that notion.
Peter Salter, afraid of a life of danger, intrigue and bloody hard work.
He moved on in the darkness with all the stealth of SAS days put to good use. He found his rendezvous point in minutes, approaching the dark shack with caution. There was a small light on inside, part of it visible through a hole in the blackout curtains. He peered in through the hole.
No sign of enemy invasion.
Peter took in a deep breath as he reached the door of the shack. He turned the key in the lock, opening the door with a soft click. He squinted as he entered the room, his young eyes trained for the night. The room was bathed in light.
And the walls were bathed in blood.
His first dead body lay on the floor before him. Peter had been trained for this sort of thing, been told the procedures to follow, what to do with the body until backup arrived to dispose of it, but no-one had prepared him for the thoughts that hit his mind.
This man was alive yesterday. I spoke to him, wished him luck.
But as soon as those thoughts became conscious, so did the memories of his training. He set about cleaning up, calling for backup, all the necessary steps were taken.
It shocked Peter how easily he could switch himself off, how suddenly desensitised to the body he was. He couldn’t feel the sickness in his stomach, could barely see himself shaking.
Oh yes, MI5 was certainly different to the army.
But, strangely, it was nothing he couldn’t deal with.
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