Anti-Supernatural Assault Team HTML version

“See you tomorrow Arthur,” the woman called as Arthur was reaching to turn the door
He simply opened the door and left. However, at that time they both didn’t know that Arthur
was here for the last time.
The office was situated inside a tall skyscraper with a gigantic undergro und parking
area. Arthur was walking along a lane in the parking lot heading towards his car; an old white
mustang - his dream car. He put his hand in his pocket to take out his keys. They weren’t
there. He nervously tapped himself in all the places and pockets where the keys might be, yet
he found nothing.
“Not again,” he said with disappointment.
Arthur had no choice but to return to his office.
Of course they were there. Where else could they be? It happened a few times that month but
he still didn’t learn his lesson. Not thinking much, he immediately turned around and rushed
back to the lift. When he got back to the office, Jane was still working on her computer.
“Did you forget your keys again?” she asked raising her head from the keyboard.
“Yeah, as always.”
Arthur went up to his desk and his eyes scanned it carefully. The keys were next to an old
printer. He picked them up and put them away into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Bye again,” he said to Jane.
“Bye,” the woman answered with a silent laugh.
Three minutes later Arthur got downstairs to his car. He opened it briskly and threw
his suitcase onto the back seat. Then he got in shutting the door behind him. Although it was
London, the white mustang had the steering wheel on the left side. He had bought it while he
was in the USA in late 70’s to do some menial jobs. It was a clean renovated car with no
scratches on it. The owner must have taken good care of it and he did too. Twice or three
times a week, Arthur would polish and wax it. He loved this machine.
Arthur fastened the seatbelts and turned the key causing the engine to start with a loud,
typical roar. Afterwards, he pulled back, switched the radio on, and headed for the exit.
“And here is the weather forecast for the British Isles,” a nice soft woman’s voice on
the radio announced. “The wind is getting heavier that may result in a heavy storm with
thunders,” the gentle voice continued.
“Storms in December, that’s weird,” Arthur said under his breath as his car emerged
from the underground parking lot. “Forget this, I’m gonna listen to some music,” he yawned
as he pressed a small button on his car radio to change the station.
Some sad song was being played.
“No, not this one,” he grumbled while pressing the button again.
A new station was playing some old rock song.
“Yeah, that’s more like it, oh yeah,” he said joyfully.
Arthur drove through the city then headed west outside London to get quickly to his village.
It was an addictive trend for the new rich to move outside Londo n to the villages
nearby. They needed to run away from all the city noise to the peaceful and quiet cottages.
Although they lived in their desired silence, they still spent way too much time on getting to
their jobs. Arthur was one of them.
As he was turning into the motorway, he spotted some dark clouds coming from the
west. The tree branches started to wave faster and faster rustling with the remains of the
leaves that hadn’t been taken by Autumn. A few minutes later, he was driving along a narrow