NaNoWriMo Brainstorming Forum

Click!



Yes! Now to insert the flash drive with the virus; that should take them a while to sort out. Time to make a quick exit, I think.

s***! Where did that plane come from? It's flying awfully low. It's heading straight for us. Go, go, go. Damn these cubicles. "Stop your screaming, woman, and get the f*** out of here." Wow! That was a hell of a bang. No shudder though; it must have hit the other tower. No time to worry about them poor bastards; I gotta get out of here. "No, lady, the stairs, not the lift." Why do they do fire drills for idiots like her? OK, I've practiced this; I can do fifteen floors in four minutes.

Good, I'm ahead of the crowd. Half of these morons won't move until they're told to. Puff! I'm not as fit as I thought I was. Three minutes to go down ten flights?
“Hey, watch it, you nearly hit me with that door. What? It did hit the North Tower. s***!” The pilot's an idiot. It's a perfectly clear day. What was he doing, for Christ's sake? Puff! No time to rest. They're already evacuating and I want to get ahead of the crowd if I'm going to escape.

“Take those stupid high heels off, you silly bitch. Ouch! Watch where you're going. Stop shoving; we've got plenty of time, it was the North Tower that got hit.” Need to catch my breath.
“Hey, that was my foot.” No, can't stop, need to get away. These stairs aren't wide enough for so many people. If it had hit us we'd be toast. They're slowing me down; I should have covered a lot more floors by now.

Floor 49. And it's only taken me five minutes. OK, keep going. My legs are starting to feel it. I'm not sure I can keep up this pace. I wish this lot would just get out of my way. They're in no real danger; it's me that could be in the s***. I know the cops are getting close. What if they're waiting for me?
“What daft sod put those boxes there?” It's not quite nine yet; she'll be dropping the kids at school. Shame I gotta leave them behind but ...

Hell, I felt that. Was it an explosion? I can smell burning. s***! This tower's on fire. Gotta get going. Push! It's getting hot in here. Puff! I'm finding it harder to breath. It's slowing me down. I've got to get out. What's the use of twenty mill if I'm dead! Cough! My chest is starting to hurt. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep going at this pace. "What's that? It hit on 60?" This could be to my advantage. If they think I'm dead, they won't come looking; that's if I'm not really dead.

Does that give the right impression of my bad guy?