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Wizards’ Word War (s.2): Dispatch 12- London Calling Pt. 1


Tweet of the Day: Character Trait Entry: Stubborn

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Season 1 - Dispatch (s.2) 1Dispatch 11Dispatch 13

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London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down.
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady

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City of London, UK, 25 July, 20:30 hrs GMT

London calling, yes, I was there, too
An’ you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!
London calling at the top of the dial
After all this, won’t you give me a smile?
London calling

I never felt so much….

“I am Michael Wright here with the classics from BBC One to all those of you drinking your worries away this hot summer night. Next up is—”

The radio cut out as did mobile phones followed by internet service. The next hammer blow fell on the Fire Stations. Bombs shattered the night. Fire fighters died by dozen. Police units fanned out across the city in response. Confusion reigned as thousands of citizens flooded the communication network with panicked calls, terse text messages to love ones and rapid fire messages on multiple social media networks.

Then the city went dark.

Wrapped in darkness, a flotilla of flat bottom assault boats sailed past the Thames Barrier. Each a recreation of a bygone era of massive beach landings. Past the Millennium dome the lead ships opened fire into the darkness.  The whistle of thousands of rockets filled the air. Few in the city knew what the sound meant as they fumbled in the dark. The barrage blanketed the streets on both banks of the river. Windows shattered. Walls collapsed.  Hundreds were cut down by a storm of supersonic fragments.

In the heels of the rocket barrage came a second force of ships equipped with massive mortars. They pumped hundreds of fiery shells into the air. Fireballs arched through the air. A rain of brimstone upon the defenseless. Fire consumed anyone or anything it touch, like a ravenous beast. As the ships made their way up river, they wave of destruction spread. Then the wind shifted. It roared through open windows and narrow streets. As the winds grew to hurricane force the isolated fires merged into a storm. Civilians and police alike fled the scene, many overcome by toxic fumes and intense heat.

The last group of boats pealed off in ones and twos to dock on the riverbanks. From their holds, skeletal forms rose. Armed with assault rifles and possessed by spirits of destruction, the horde spread though burning streets. They marched to the sound of automatic fire.  Herds of panicked citizens merged in panicked flight. Many sought refuge in the Underground. The skeletal gunmen walked down the stairs.  Within the thick walls the staccato of the guns mixed with the screams of the terrified screams of the dying into a deafening concerto of destruction.  A few brave souls charged the attackers with whatever they could find. But bullet beat rock every time.

The war had come home.

——–

London City is burning down,
Burning down, burning down.
London City is burning down,
My fair lady

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