The 8a Team: Good Times – Novelised from the Comic

CHAPTER 2: GUNNERS IN CHERTSEY

It was a cold December afternoon, the chilly breeze filling the town of Chertsey. Ash, Abi, Emily and Charlotte were sitting on a table in Subway, having some after-school snacks.

"Any of you been in touch with Seb in the past month?" Abi asked.

Emily and Ash put their hands up, nodding.

"Okay, cool", Abi continued.

"I know what you're thinking about", Ash said, "And don't worry about it. Things have also been awkward between me and Steven after that day. The day that Jasmine died."

James walked up to them, a newspaper in his hand.

"I think you should see this", he said, throwing the paper at the table. Charlotte grabbed the newspaper, reading the front headline.

FREAK TERRORIST ATTACK KILLS HUNDREDS IN LONDON

Fatal explosions in the London Underground tunnel network near the O2 yesterday have killed 427 people, along with causing over 700 casualties. It is believed that a terrorist had started a fire in the tunnels, which led to five trains being ignited and killing all the passengers aboard them. The fires had spread into the train platform itself, causing a large stampede which crushed many others and broke some of the stairs leading into the station. The unknown terrorist, possibly inspired by the works of the late Andrew Tobin, had left a sign on the top of the O2 arena as a possible warning to Londoners. READ MORE... PAGE 7

There was an image on the paper of the O2 from sky view, a fiery face staring at the readers.

"Grayfoo?" Emily asked.

"I think so", Charlotte replied.

"It's kinda cool that the press thinks Andrew's dead", James laughed. He stopped abruptly when nobody else joined him in laughter.

Four men walked into the restaurant, all with sunglasses on. Quite odd for a December look. The man in front, presumably the leader, had a long scar over and under his left eye. He wore a hoodie, with a rifle attached to his back. The man behind was younger, with a small moustache growing under his nose. There was a double-barrelled shotgun in his hands. The third man had long, curly hair, along with stubble on his face. His skin was olive-coloured, indicating that he wasn't from around England. He had one Desert Eagle on each hand, twirling them around every now and then. The man at the back was bald and quite tubby. There was small stubble from where his beard once was, and some where there may once have been sideburns. He carried a large flamethrower.

Charlotte, Abi, Emily and Ash stood up slowly, walking backwards towards the toilets.

"Wait a minute, ladies", spoke the leader, with a strong Australian accent. "We just wanna have a little talk with ya. Get to know ya." He walked up to Ash, stroking her cheek. "Are you... scared, girlie?"

Ash didn't answer; she just took another step back.

"It's all right to be scared of us", continued the leader, "You should be scared anyway." He took the rifle out from his back, pointing it at her chest. "Now, could you tell us the whereabouts of the 8a Team? Gregs wants some information from them."

Abi hid behind the table, but the man behind the leader picked her up, putting the double barrel of the shotgun into her mouth.

"Don't run from us, lovely", spoke the man, a slight French accent in his voice.

As the third and fourth men grabbed Emily and Charlotte, James whispered into a walkie talkie from outside the restaurant as he watched.

"Steven, get the Stashtag."

The fat bald gunner pointed the flamethrower at Charlotte's forehead.

"Number 1's right", he spoke, hints of German in his tone, "We just want some information for Herr Greg."

Emily kicked at the olive-skinned gunner who approached her, stopping when he put one Desert Eagle in her mouth and pointed the other at her forehead.

"Don't do that", he spoke in a strong Indian voice, "It hurts. Not as much as my Eagles could hurt you if you kept kicking."

Number One spoke again. "Now tell me, pretties, where is Andrew Tobin?"

A faint motor sound came from the floor beneath the gunners. All of a sudden, the ground behind them exploded, causing them to drop their weapons in surprise. The flamethrower accidentally let out a few sparks, causing the bald gunner's trousers to catch fire. He put them out rapidly, shouting in panic.
From the hole in the ground, a motorbike began to rise into the restaurant. It was blue and white, guns attached to its sides. Steven was sitting in it, his Stashtag helmet on.

"Right", Steven said, "I recommend you back off now before things get ugly between us."

Number One laughed, picking up his rifle. "I'm not threatened by kids."

"Your loss", Steven replied. He pressed a button on the bike, causing a bullet to shoot into Number One's gun arm. He dropped the rifle, screaming in pain.

Steven pressed another button on the Stashtag, causing it to call 999.

"Hello", Steven spoke, "I'd like the police. A quartet of gunned wankers just broke into Subway and assaulted some kids, and I'd love it if you came and picked them up."

Steven hung up the phone, smiling at the four gunners. "Thanks for your time."
The gunners bowed their heads in shame, and Steven saluted mockingly.

"Hope to do business with you again!" he said.