Flipper’s Bitch – AA Fan fic – Roger Ross
Rhino Fan fic.
Flipper’s Bitch
By Roger Ross
Based on Characters Appearing in After America by John Birmingham. Also Based on Characters Appearing in Secondary Mission WW Fanfic Cmdr Havoc by Andrew “Havock” Porter.
WARNING – Some NSFW language and situations. You have been warned.
Financial District, Manhattan, New York City Federal Controlled Area
“Tell me, again, please, why it is you dragged your half-recuperated carcass out of bed to go on this fool’s errand?”
The very large man wedged behind the wheel of the dented and dusty Range Rover battled with the shift in a futile attempt to slow down in time to weave around the mid-street pile-up of taxis that would never take another fare, a losing battle from the sound of grinding rising from the gear box, just scowled and mumbled around his cigar, “Well, Miss Jules, word was they was lookin’ for some rated seamen to help out on some search and rescue ops and I was sick of lying around and I figured you were probably bored too and it might be nice to spend a day at sea to blow the stink off us as it were”.
Chapter 10 Continued: Havoc AA FanFic
Chapter 10 Continued:
President Kipper thought about what Colonel Kinnimore and General Murphy had just finished briefing him on, he was also pondering the coming telephone calls he was going to need to make.
Chapter 10 AA Fan Fic by Havock
Havock fanfic.
. AFTER AMERICA FAN FIC by HAVOCK.
Chapter 10
Situation Room United States of America.
The chief of staff was eyeing off the President very closely, Jed, thought he could see President Kipper visibly pale, when General Murphy had levelled the issue at Blackstone’s feet. President kipper leaned forward slowly in the plushley upholstered directors chair in the Battle lab reaching forward he grabbed the glass and a water pitcher off the central lazy Susan centred on the conference table gently pouring himself a glass of water.
Secondary Mission WW fanfic Cmdr Havoc
Secondary Mission. STRIKE FORCE 1 Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.
Lt Colonel Havoc, cut a rather mean figure in the cockpit of the B52, affectionately known as the BUFF, which was to be expected given the sheer scale of death and carnage his wing of B52 bombers had just released on New York, the commander embodied this with his sheer physical presence, at least that’s What the Lieutenant Colonel would tell anybody who happened to ask..
The Southern Approaches Command By John R. Johnson WW
After The Wave III
By
John R. Johnson
Prologue
It was over a year since the Wave, as it was called, hit the United States, Canada and Mexico. Every person living in the boundaries of the tear shaped wave had disappeared. The wave had covered all of the United States, except for a portion of the Pacific Northwest, Alaska, Hawaii and Puerto Rico. All of Canada south of an arc which extended from Oregon, brushing Edmonton, and the southern half of Hudson’s Bay was gone. The northern two thirds of Mexico from Belize to Acapulco was lifeless. The survivors in southern Mexico had fled south. Afraid the Wave would expand and take them.
Sur La Plage Part 2 – Chaz – WW
The recent unrest had left some parts of the hotel curiously unscarred. The ground floor had been fairly well ransacked as had the first floor rooms. But the upper floors (except for some graffiti and odd bits of mindless vandalism) had been left pretty much intact.
Christmas Sampler
Julianne jumped from the cabin of the helicopter and felt the rotorwash trying to sweep her off the roof. She stayed bent over as she ran forward, clutching the straps of her backpack lest it be ripped away by the furious downblast. She turned and crouched beside an air conditioning unit, and was almost bowled over by the Rhino who was right on her heels. The dark green chopper snarled even more ferociously as the pilot fed power into the engines and lifted off again. Her dirty, unwashed fringe whipped stinging strands of hair into her eyes but she watched and waved them off anyway. The Polish soldier, Milosz, stood in the doorway, grinning hugely. With one hand holding a grab bar he laid the tips of two fingers under his eyes and then pointed directly at her.
After America Expurgated Excerpt – JB
They weren’t regular Army and they weren’t part of the Texas National Guard. Miguel had a hard time keeping track of the differences but he did know one thing about the men and women of the Texas Defense Force. They were Governor Blackstone’s personal troops, for territorial use only, and in no way answerable to Seattle. They were also very well looked after. More than a few disaffected soldiers, sick of going months without any pay at all in the US Army, had come to his banner.
AFTER THE WAVE: JIMMY’S TALE
It happened when Jimmy was in Calgary, rummaging through an alley behind a strip mall on 1st Street: he found a crate labeled “Novelty Nose and Glasses.” Jimmy opened the crate and found it full of rubber noses attached to black plastic horned-rimmed glasses frames. His hands shook as he placed a pair on his face. He ran into an empty store and found a mirror and, as he looked at his reflection, Jimmy suddenly knew what he was supposed to do.
TRANSIT
The Caliphate spy, a Javanese carpenter known simply as Adil, resettled himself against a comfortable groove in the sandal- wood tree. The small, shaded clearing in the hills overlooking Dili had been his home for three days. He shared it with an aged feral cat, which remained hidden throughout the day, and an irritable monkey, which occasionally tried to shit on his head. He had considered shooting the filthy animal, but his orders were explicit. He was to remain unnoticed as long as the crusaders were anchored off East Timor, observing their fleet and sending reports via microburst laser link, but only in the event of a “significant development.”
Fish Guts – John R. Johnson & Jose J. Clavell
USCGC Matinicus (WPB-1315)
On Patrol in the Caribbean
Chief Warrant Officer William “Wild Bill” Elliott, Commanding Officer of the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Matinicus, carefully eyed its deck as he followed his morning inspection ritual. He was the only warrant officer in the post wave Coast Guard commanding a 110 ft. cutter and his ship filled him with pride. Still, after thirty days underway there were specks of rust starting to show through the paint on the bulkheads and sides of the cutter. The Matinicus could cruise for 60 days with ample provisions but with the all new crew members that he had recruited that would be shortened. He ignored the men and women sleeping on the deck, but froze for a moment when he saw the covered five gallon bucket secured near the fantail and smelled the pungent odor emanating from it.
Wireless – Tygertim8
Jane was stepping down the stairs wearing only her “Madame Butterfly” robe, her heaving bosom bouncing with each step.
The Surfer – Lobes
The surfer sat astride his board, legs dangling in the cool pacific water.
Cry Havock – Mr The Rhino
The observation room was separated from the thickly padded room by two inches of sound-proofed and mirrored glass.
The Long week – GirlClumsy
Shaun drew on the joint, breathing the rough smoke deep into his lungs.
This Golfing Life – Dr Yobbo
David Lawrence had lost a few things in the two years since the Great Stellar Shitfight.
The Rodent – sibeen
The hub-bub outside the conference room went up a notch and as Major Gen Gillespie raised his head Howard strode into the room.
Dear Mrs First Lady – NoWhereBob
It seemed that half the nutbags and fruitbars who had survived the Wave considered First Lady Barb Kipper a back channel to the President.
On the patio – Matt Keith (again with the not so short …)
As the shadows lengthened and the foothills of the sierra shone purple in the gloaming the four of them were sitting out the back of Karsten’s house on an assortment of plastic garden furniture arranged on the patio.
Russian Roulette – sparty
Lieutenant Colonel Nabrakov of the FSB was a worried man.
The Wee Men – savo
The lights flickers as the big generator cut in, it’s low rumble vibrating the air throughout the compound.
We Few, We Brave Few, We Band of Cheeseburgers – DArkman
Stephen Francis Murphy ran past the bodies of the Cheeseburger irregulars, spun around and yelled “Rhino, Havoc To Me!”, mustering the last of fanbase.
Wichita Falls – Brian C (not so short …)
At the time of the Wave Damien had been married for 5 years and was experiencing some marriage troubles.
Scapegoat – MickH
Gary Kovak lifted the whisky glass unsteadily off the bar, spilling a little of the goldern fluid and earning a silent frown from the bartender.
Equal Rights – Barnesm
Julie turned and asked, “pass us another tray of seedlings, Granny”
Tastes Like Chicken -Samuel C.
Randy Green was getting off work at his job at Microsoft.
Stavros – Paul Nicholas Boylan
When Stavros was in Seattle, he stopped for lunch at Roxy’s Diner on 36th Street.
Blue Screen of Death – Mark R. Whittington
Craig Cram was one of the millions of Americans who had suddenly found themselves exiled when the wave wiped out much of North America.
Thommo and Derek – drej
Thommo and Derek, college freshmen fortunate enough to be vacationing in Alaska when the wave hit.
No More Heroes- Chaz
The night was warm and humid for a change Continue reading
Agent Frellman – Abe
Agent Frellman had just finished his weekly meeting with Raoul Castro. Secondment to the DGI in Havana was agreeing with Frellman, as it was helping him hone his sausage-making skills in his spare time. When he wasn’t chasing down Cayman Island money launderers and rogue credit derivative traders, of course.
Alien Space Bats – Guy Roberts
Francis put down the telephone and turned back to the computer screen in front of him.
204f – NoWhereBob
204f braked against the gravity of a large yellow star. If a simple robot could, it would have been bored spit-less, but as this was its purpose in existing it just did its job with a minimum of fuss.
A Walk in The Woods – by Savo WW-ZE
Our/my memories were vague, broken. There was so much, so many of them but so little I could understand.
Only hunger remained.
Coming Home – Without Warning FanFic by Stephen Francis Murphy
“This is the last stop, Specialist,” the African American driver, an above the elbow amp, said. “Sure you want to walk the rest of the way?”
Bobby Wilder, still in his desert fatigues, nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just a couple of miles.”
“I’d take you there but the roads aren’t clear and they watch my mileage pretty closely,” the driver said. “Fuel ain’t that hard to come by but they watch it anyway.”
“They’re more concerned about wear and tear on the bus I suspect,” Wilder said, with a sixteen in one hand and his ruck in the other. “Thanks for the lift. When will you be back through here?”
“Same time tomorrow. Got some homesteaders here in Northtown and the work details down in the rail yards. There are some folks up at Cerner and the hospital as well. They keep me pretty busy,” the driver said. “Rule of thumb is around noon or so.”
Wilder nodded. “Noon it is. Thanks.”
New Order – by Havock
For Sergeant Major Bo Jaason the retreat and subsequent sea journey from Kuwait had been nothing short of a nightmare. The organizational process of withdrawing as a result of the wave had been littered with disaster after disaster, catastrophe was more the word he thought, and they’d lost no fewer than 50% of the ships which had set out. A combination of missile attacks, suicide boats and a single stray Iranian Tango class sub had played bloody hell with the fleets departure in the confined waters of the Gulf, seemed every rag headed, religious nut job had come out to have a crack at the US and its allies.
The Falcon Masters – by Stephen Francis Murphy
The Falcon Masters – – Without Warning Fan Fiction
By Steven Francis Murphy
Snow covered the empty plains of the American Midwest, the bleak sun peering down through a clear grey blue sky down upon the bones of empire. Tufts of fine grass, waist high reached up, shifting with the Siberian express blowing hard across Kansas and over the river into Missouri. No rabbits scurried to evade the nimble fox, the eager wolf or the cagey farm dog. Huddles of cattle were nowhere to be found either. Rusting farm machines covered in snow and dirt sank on deflated tires into the soil. A windmill spun crazy lazy on a busted pivot, betraying the wind’s true direction, creaking in the empty air, joined only by the sound of turbine thunder roaring far above a land orphaned in the blink of an eye by the hand of fate.
The Right to Bear Arms – by Drej
The Right to Bear Arms
The line waiting to enter the Bungalow Bar in central Whangarei was not as long as usual, partly due to the cold and plenty due to the economic recession gripping the world. But to 19 year old Robbie Kahui, the din of voices raised to counter the ever present doof-doof music within was testament to the fact that no matter the state of the world, people still sought to drown their uncertainties in increasingly expensive liquor to preserve the illusion, at least, of a “good time”.
Why – by NoWhereBob
The old man said nothing, as was his way. With a flick of the wrist he threw the last of his tea into the smoking embers of last nights fire, stood with popping joints and creaking tendons and walked towards the stock horses. He took no joy from what he had started, perhaps a grim sliver of satisfaction, knowing that a terrible wrong was to be righted. Last night in a special place he had sung the songs to summon his ancestors, he had sought their counsel and with their help he had sung the death of America.
Sur la Plage Part 1: Insertion by Chaz
Sur la Plage
Part 1: Insertion
April 2003
The camouflaged AS532 Cougar scudded low over the acid rain bleached fields bordering the Loire estuary. Nantes smoke blackened skyline faded into the springs early dusk. Normally at this time of year the evening would be warm and long. Now the ever present thick poisonous cloud cover cast an overbearing pall over the countryside.
Lootin’ Schmootin’ – by NoWhereBob
He slipped over a fence and into a new overgrown yard. A year’s tall dead grass partly hid a kids play gym. He moved towards a back deck listening intently and watching the house for movement. Yesterday he had heard a helicopter in the distance, probably the army. But it was a week since he’d spoken to anyone. A week since the Chechens had killed Dan.
The Disappearance + 1 month by tonick175
Disappearance + 1 Month
Australia , Northern Territory Coastline – 0250H
“Here they come”. The dull hum of the thermal imaging camera was now a constant reminder of their now familiar nightly routine. And its images told of another busy night ahead. “I’ve got 12, no make that 15 craft running line astern, about 200m apart, heading is on bearing 185, with no lights visible. They’re running blind”. Sergeant Peter Anders pulled back from the eyepiece and rolled his neck left to right, sweat running down the middle of his back. He had, up till recently come to accept that his job was, realistically, defunct. But that was before “the Wave” and, it seems, the vaporizing of what was the population of mainland United States .
Murphy’s Law – by Guru Bob
Murph’s law
The camouflaged figure crouched low in the bushes and scanned the blackness ahead of him along the barrel of his rifle. Suddenly there was scurrying movement ahead of him and then two low slung figures bounded away through the long grass towards the treeline.
Mr Singh – BobNoWhere
Mr Singh smiled as he watched one of his herds. The tall man in a turban, check shirt and blue jeans sat comfortably in the saddle. For the first time in a many long days he had allowed himself to leave the armies of problems to rage and gibber in his e-mail inbox. True it was to deal in person with yet another problem with the new slaughterhouse, but at least he was away from the desk in daylight and out on his horse.
Payback – By Jose J. Clavell
Payback
A Without Warning Fanfic
By Jose J. Clavell
Over the Caribbean Sea
Manuel Figueroa tried to ignore the numbers blinking in his head-up display and the occasional mutterings of Bitching Bettie as the female voice forcefully reminded him that a moment of inattention, or even a sneeze, could cause he and his Fighting Falcon to join the submarine service, permanently. Buying the farm that way would be terribly sucky after surviving the Iraq invasion, the unexpected furball with Iran, the second use of atomic weapons and the first nuclear war in history. That would definitively have pissed him off and greatly disappointed his legion of female fans.
Life had been relatively good since the American forces left the Middle East to their own devices and, in the case of his wing, moved back to sunny Puerto Rico. It had been extremely good for him because, unlike the majority of his mainlander brothers and sisters-in-arms, he had his grandparents and a good portion of his family still living on the island.
Continue reading
Again – A Without Warning Fanfic By sibeen (Joe Devlin)
He clambered out of the fog of sleep and glanced at the bedside clock.
“Shit, 3:14”, what the hell was he doing awake, especially after the strenuous activities earlier in the night. He rolled over and looked at his bed partner. “Coleen,” no wait, that was last week…Monica… Monica, yeah that was it. He grinned to himself and thought about giving Monica a quiet nudge; “for a short, balding lawyer of Greek and Irish extraction you don’t do too bad, do you old son?”
Rhino Pr0n – by NoWhereBob
0400 Wheelhouse of MV Aussie Rules.
The Rhino was deliberately waiting before he got his next cup of coffee and a new cigar. He was well aware of the rapidly diminishing supply of both. To find something to do he tweaked the sea clutter up a touch on the RADAR. He snorted “Damned thing’ll acquire, plot & lay off a course & speed for a new target before I even know it’s there.” While the old days had required more skill, more knowledge, a more intuitive touch, there certainly was something to be said for the new whizz-bangery of integrated GPS Chart Plotters & RADAR with ARPA. He drew some comfort from the knowledge that he could go back to the old technology, where as the under 30 pussies couldn’t find their own ass without GPS. He settled his ass back into the gas lift helm chair, which despite being designed by some softcock interior designer and trimmed in white leather, the Rhino had to admit it was a thing of great comfort.
His mental background chatter stopped short as he sensed someone coming up the stairwell. Fifi, wrapped in a blanket, padded to beside his helm chair.
Rhino furry
0400 Wheelhouse of MV Aussie Rules.
The Rhino was deliberately waiting before he got his next cup of coffee and a new cigar. He was well aware of the rapidly diminishing supply of both. To find something to do he tweaked the sea clutter up a touch on the RADAR. He snorted “Damned thing’ll acquire, plot & lay off a course & speed for a new target before I even know it’s there.” While the old days had required more skill, more knowledge, a more intuitive touch, there certainly was something to be said for the new whizz-bangery of integrated GPS Chart Plotters & RADAR with ARPA. He drew some comfort from the knowledge that he could go back to the old technology, where as the under 10 pussies couldn’t find their own ass or donkey without GPS. He settled his leathery grey rump back into the gas lift helm chair, which despite being designed by some softcockerel interior designer and trimmed in white vinyl , the Rhino had to admit it was a thing of great comfort.
Rhino /
0400 Wheelhouse of MV Aussie Rules.
The Rhino was deliberately waiting before he got his next cup of coffee and a new cigar. He was well aware of the rapidly diminishing supply of both. To find something to do he tweaked the sea clutter up a touch on the RADAR. He snorted “Damned thing’ll acquire, plot & lay off a course & speed for a new target before I even know it’s there.”
While the old days had required more skill, more knowledge, a more intuitive touch, there certainly was something to be said for the new whizz-bangery of integrated GPS Chart Plotters & RADAR with ARPA. He drew some comfort from the knowledge that he could go back to the old technology, where as the under 30 pussies couldn’t find their own ass without GPS. He settled his ass back into the gas lift helm chair, which despite being designed by some softcock interior designer and trimmed in white leather, the Rhino had to admit it was a thing of great comfort.
Welcome to The Mini-Burger – Fan Fic in the Birmoverse.
Just a quick repast on what we are doing here. This is the repository for fanfic relating to John Birmingham’s Axis of Time Universe and his Without Warning Universe.
Here is a sample of the quality work generally available here. Apologies to NWB
Rhino Havock
0400 Wheelhouse of MV Aussie Rules.
The Rhino was deliberately waiting before he got his next cup of coffee and a new cigar. He was well aware of the rapidly diminishing supply of both. To find something to do he tweaked the sea clutter up a touch on the RADAR. He snorted “Damned thing’ll acquire, plot & lay off a course & speed for a new target before I even know it’s there.”
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