tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51316679604807386052024-02-08T09:52:46.257-08:00Stuff I write. And stuff.Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-45977418313153039572011-07-02T13:18:00.000-07:002011-07-02T13:18:19.666-07:00I will returnIt's been a while since I posted. Been busy with life, now that the nice weather is here I 've been getting out more often. But I will continue posting stuff. Here's something for today;<br />
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</style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults v:ext="edit" spidmax="1026"/> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout v:ext="edit"> <o:idmap v:ext="edit" data="1"/> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;"><u>Part XXIV – Gaea’s Sentinel</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“Storm’s comin’ in,” Dyer says, looking out over the plains, Kilimanjaro rising up through the clouds of the storm.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“It’s quite a sight.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Been a long time since I’ve seen somethin’ like this, or even felt real, clean rain.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Where you been, Dyer?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“I live in Phoenix Arcodome now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t have real weather there; it’s all engineered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But here, it’s beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half the continent’s really a preserve?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Yep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what we fought the African Conflict for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those Farmtech bastards wanted to terraform hundreds of thousands of square kilometers, wipe out everything you can see, to engineer ‘better’ plants and animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would’ve lost all this forever.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“You think anyone else ever fought a war for nature before?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“I don’t think anyone ever had to before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was one of the last places on Earth you could see it like it was; before people took over everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before we needed a Gaea Liberation Front to wake people up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the Earth Liberation Army was formed to stop those like Farmtech, and the Company, from taking away the last of Nature’s beauty.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“It’s incredible you guys won.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn’t the E.L.A. nearly get wiped out?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“A lot of lives were lost, on both sides, out here in the wild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See that lone tree over there?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He points.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We lost over two hundred good men and women in the battle there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lost good friends and soldiers back then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were out to save the world.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Is that why you stayed out here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why you still live here?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">The tall, stocky man shoulders his old-style double-barrel slugrifle, and looks toward the approaching storm.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“This is the Earth as she was meant to be, my friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, c’mon; let’s go shoot some dinner, and maybe get you some native real animal skin souvenir of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>your trip.”</div><br />
Thanks for stopping by!Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-12606020662582403332011-06-14T13:03:00.000-07:002011-06-14T13:03:07.691-07:00OMFG! Help out a great group of guys!<a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/georgegaspar/omfg-series-1">http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/georgegaspar/omfg-series-1</a><br />
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Ever wanted to get in on the ground floor of something awesome? NOW YOU CAN!!! <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/georgegaspar/omfg-series-1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span></span></a>Click the link to find out how YOU can help us make a toy dream come true! If you love me, you'll do it. ;)<br />
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<b>O</b>utlandish <b>M</b>ini-<b>F</b>igure <b>G</b>uys!<br />
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The awesome poster! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz299/Seraph2011/256715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz299/Seraph2011/256715.jpg" width="484" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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The back of the card the figures will come on. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz299/Seraph2011/258269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz299/Seraph2011/258269.jpg" width="505" /></a></div><br />
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So help us out, and get a piece of toy history! And stop by and let us know you support the project!<br />
<a class="topictitle" href="http://www.octobertoys.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=30&t=6889">OMFG! - Forum Mini Figs - The Discussion Thread</a><br />
<a href="http://www.octobertoys.com/forum/viewforum.php?f=30">http://www.octobertoys.com/forum/viewforum.php?f=30</a> <br />
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Thanks for stopping in!Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-9943930582037378112011-06-07T15:08:00.000-07:002011-06-07T15:08:38.212-07:00Part XXIII<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;"><u>Part XXIII – Nurse Cohen’s Part</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“Are you feeling better now, Mr. Tone?” the voice on an intercom says.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where’s Dr. Smith?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Dr. Smith has… other responsibilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has asked me to handle your care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My name is Doctor Jones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll be back later to check on your progress.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Progress would be letting me the fuck out of here!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rock shouts, wriggling in his restraint jacket.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Did you know about Dr. Smith?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Yeah,” Nurse Cohen answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Creepy; he died watching Mr. Tone’s nightmares.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Weird,” the other nurse says.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“The look on his face when we found him… horrifying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like something had scared him to death.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Do you think a dream could really scare someone to death?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“I wouldn’t know,” Nurse Cohen lies to the other nurse, fearing she might sound crazy if she told the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth that what Nurse Cohen saw on the screen in the monitor room, the mere seconds of twilight terror she could bear to witness, have invaded her own dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has slept little, and that restless the past two nights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cannot banish the dark vision of those horrible shadow-lurkers, dancing their otherworldly dance to a terrible, alien statue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cannot, no matter how she tries, forget the face of Rock Tone as those shadow-lurkers danced their cursed dance around that twilight statue he was bound to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The terror in his eyes was like nothing she could ever have imagined.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Later that evening, as she lay in bed drinking hooch and smoking Syneshtia Flower, she thinks of Rock Tone again.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">‘I’d go crazy, too, if I had nightmares like his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure we’ll help him.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She turns off her light, and out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees a shadowy figure slither itself behind her dresser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I at least hope we can do something for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m starting to lose it.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She closes her eyes, exhausted, but dreading the twilight dreamscape awaiting her, and fearing the shadow-lurkers that will certainly invade her dreams again this night.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
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</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-87615277962899339532011-06-04T07:19:00.000-07:002011-06-04T07:19:48.851-07:00I know, we all kinda look the sameI know to the untrained eye, all Orthodox Jewish men look the same; black suits, hats, and beards. But if you look at the details, it's pretty easy to tell the difference between certain sects. I'll tell you how to tell a Satmar from a Lubavitcher from a regular Orthodox when they're outside their own neighborhoods.<br />
It's all in the face and the attitude. If he's nervous, a bit uptight, and clearly doesn't want to interact with you, he's a Satmar. If he's got a serious, businesslike expression and manner (and probably on his cellphone), he's Orthodox. If he's happy, maybe smiling, and has a cool, casual confidence about him, he's a Lubavitcher. <br />
There's also the distinctive hats each group wears, but I'll get into that another time. Now you can tell the difference, and won't confuse me for a 'regular' Orthodox guy. You can tell by my smile. :)Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-17556951160183167312011-05-28T08:27:00.000-07:002011-05-28T08:27:45.180-07:00Back to our regularly scheduled program<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;"><u>Part XXII – Old War Buddies</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“So what is it between you two?” the bald man asks after his partner leaves the room.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“What do you mean?” the blonde in the red dress asks back.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“I mean he’s very fond of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you can’t really be old war buddies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, you’re what, twenty-one?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He takes a swig of his hooch.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“I’m twenty-four, and yes, he knew me from the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before then, even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I wasn’t in the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was only sixteen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I wanted to be.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“So how did you two get so close?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“My father and him served together in the Syneshtan War, and before that when I was younger, in the African Conflict.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father was killed in action in the War, so he and Aunt Sarah took care of me for a few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel horrible about Sarah and Zoe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t been around for a few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How has he been?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How did it happen?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“He doesn’t talk about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A while back, he took off for a few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he came back, he seemed better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then Declan got killed, and Rock’s in the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seems fine, but I’m sure he…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Did you miss me?” he asks, sitting back in his chair.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Terribly,” she replies sarcastically.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“We were doing just fine without you, don’t worry partner,” the bald man adds, drinking his hooch.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Well don’t get any ideas about my niece here, old man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s gonna settle down with a nice cyberdoc, or an offworld biologist, not some old merc like us.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Don’t worry, partner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s way outta my league.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">“Why, thank you; I’m flattered,” she says, drinking her hooch from a glass.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">It may be the hooch, or the distraction of a beautiful woman, but none of them notices the robotic fly in the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of them suspect it has been observing them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of them even conceive the idea it could be a bomb, waiting to be swatted.</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-22503655526983103362011-05-22T13:50:00.000-07:002011-05-22T13:50:21.955-07:00I was abducted by aliens...And I've accounted for the missing time, and am back on track now. They cloned me, and the clone went to work for me for the last few days. They took him with them, the bastards.<br />
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This is a post to let you know I'm back to posting. Trying to make it more regular, say three times a week. <br />
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Only in NYC;<br />
A married couple on the train. He's Jewish, she's Chinese, they're speaking Russian.<br />
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Two guys coming out of a restroom; 1st guy; Eeew, you didn't wash your hands? Gro-o-ooss.<br />
2nd guy; I keep rubbing alcohol in my pocket, I use that.<br />
1st guy; That's not rubbing alcohol, that's lube.<br />
2nd guy; Well if that's what <b>you</b> use for lube, no wonder you don't have a boyfriend.Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-91353482275204813012011-05-13T10:52:00.000-07:002011-05-13T10:52:56.854-07:00Oh no, not againSomeone must get the reference in the title and the story. Someone must get this, I don't want to pass the Dennis Miller Ratio (3 in 100 people will get his references). I'll give you a prize, possibly a no-prize, if you get it right.<br />
This is the third time I've written out this blog entry. Both other times, something went awry with Blogger, and the post was deleted. I hope this problem doesn't repeat itself. Or...Oh no, not again...<br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XXI – My Favorite </u><u>Wilson</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hurry up, they’re coming.”<span> </span>Declan says, wiping the sweat from his brow.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I’m working fast as I can,” says Wilson.<span> </span>“This lock’s real tough.”<span> </span>He’s jacked into the door, trying to crack it.<span> </span>“Where’s the bald man and his partner?<span> </span>They’re supposed to be here.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Don’t worry, Wilson.<span> </span>They’ll be here.<span> </span>They’ve never let me down before.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I’ve almost got it,” Wilson says, looking up.<span> </span>“Here they come!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Around the corner step three Securbots, rifles raised and ready to fire.<span> </span>Declan runs into the group, vibro-sword swinging in a whirlwind blur of motion.<span> </span>One bot’s gun is cut in half, another’s legs are chopped at the knee.<span> </span>The third loses its head.<span> </span>He finishes them off before they fire a single shot.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Almost too easy,” Declan says, smiling.<span> </span>A second later, he dives to the floor to avoid the bolter fire from the six Securbots coming down the hall.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I can’t get the door!” Wilson shouts.<span> </span>“I’ve been locked out!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Shit!” Declan shouts.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">The six Securbots round the corner, rifles at the ready.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">The door behind Declan and Wilson, the door that denied them entry, opens.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Get in!” the bald man shouts.<span> </span>He’s holding a single-missile launcher, ready to fire.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">With Declan and Wilson in the lift, the doors begin to close, the Securbots begin to fire, and the bald man takes his one shot at the group of bots.<span> </span>The whole lift, indeed the whole building, rocks with the explosion.<span> </span>The lift stops suddenly on the thirtieth floor.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Uh-oh,” Wilson grunts.<span> </span>“Our vehicle’s on the twenty-fifth.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Mine’s on this floor.<span> </span>I had to change the escape plan.<span> </span>My partner’s driving,” the bald man explains.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“He can drive an aircar?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">The three of them exit the lift and run down the hall.<span> </span>The bald man takes the lead, going into an office to their left.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“There’s no way out,” Declan remarks, looking around the room with only one door.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes there is.”<span> </span>The bald man sets small charges on the wall.<span> </span>They blast a section clean out, allowing them access to the next room.<span> </span>They climb through into the room with windows.<span> </span>The bald man places explosives on a window, blasting a hole for them to escape through.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Now what?” Declan remarks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Now we jump,” the bald man says, straight-faced.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Serious?”<span> </span>Wilson blurts out, surprised.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“It’s fine,” the bald man says.<span> </span>“My partner’s waiting.<span> </span>We’ve done this before.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You first,” Wilson gestures to the bald man.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“No.<span> </span>All at once.”<span> </span>He motions the other two toward the window.<span> </span>Wilson moves slowly, still unsure.<span> </span>This makes him the first the Securbots see when they come through the door, rifles ready.<span> </span>Their bolters cut him down as he draws his pistol.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Wilson!”<span> </span>Declan yells as the bald man dives into him, taking them both out the hole in the window.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">In the aircar on the way to Declan’s place on Level Two, he has his head in his hands, pulling at his short, black hair.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Wilson,” he says.<span> </span>“Dammit.<span> </span>Shit!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey, I’m sorry Declan,” the bald man says, turning to his friend.<span> </span>“We’ve all lost a buddy in battle.<span> </span>I know it can hurt.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh, I’m not worried about that.<span> </span>Wilson’s a clone.<span> </span>That was Wilson06.<span> </span>I’ll just get another one.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh,” says the bald man, surprised.<span> </span>“Then what’s wrong?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“That particular Wilson had the data that we broke into that place to steal in his O.B.C.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“He was my favorite Wilson,” the bald man’s partner chimes in, chuckling to himself.</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" /> </span>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-58717631350902098162011-05-05T14:11:00.000-07:002011-05-05T14:11:10.121-07:00Another alien, a little explanation, and some more of Rock's nightmare. Enjoy...<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XX – The Syneshtan Deal</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“Did yer ears werk?<span> </span>You herr me?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes I… I’ve just never seen a Syneshtan before.<span> </span>Sorry.<span> </span>I’ve got it.<span> </span>Delivery arrives at seven.<span> </span>Bomb blows at seven-thirty,” the bald man repeats the details.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You say; O.K.” the Syneshtan utters.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What if there are Eudorans checking the shipments?” the bald man asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Udern na matter.<span> </span>Agints use Syneshtan Mind Block.<span> </span>No werry.”<span> </span>The Syneshtan holds out one of its smaller, hairy tentacles to the bald man.<span> </span>“Fee, please.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Ah, right.” The bald man picks up a briefcase.<span> </span>“In full, in Trade Alliance Credit, like we agreed.<span> </span>I’m sorry, I have to ask you; what is that above your eyes?<span> </span>Another eye of some sort?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yer rude, questin.”<span> </span>The Syneshtan seems offended by the question.<span> </span>“You ner see Synestan befer.<span> </span>Yer government not much like us be on Erth.<span> </span>You look bad to us, too.”<span> </span>The Syneshtan takes the case of credits.<span> </span>As the bald man leaves the room, the Syneshtan speaks again.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yer fernd Rock not crazed.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Pardon me?” The bald man is shocked by the Syneshtan’s words.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You wunder.<span> </span>Not crazy.<span> </span>Someone mess his brain.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“How did you know?” the bald man asks, eager to know.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Syneshtans see tings Erther not.<span> </span>Jelly see tings we not.<span> </span>Queens fount of nollage.<span> </span>You er tink how Syneshtia Bee talk to uther?<span> </span>Brain to brain.<span> </span>The Jelly knows.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Thank you,” the bald man says, closing the door on his way out.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Who would mess with Rock? Have to be Eudorans, but who would… Farmtech.<span> </span>The money, the resources, and the motive.<span> </span>Damn.<span> </span>Now, how do I get him back to his old self?’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">At that moment, Rock Tone is imprisoned, in a small, dark room, with one door and no windows.<span> </span>He quickly discovers his hands are tied to a stone ring in the floor.<span> </span>He is surrounded on all sides by stone representations of the horrifying gods of this nightmare city.<span> </span>He cries out in the darkness, shielding his eyes from the stone visions no man is meant to behold.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Next time; My Favorite Wilson. </div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-68585683571852234932011-05-01T15:23:00.000-07:002011-05-01T15:23:14.739-07:00Names have power. And consequences.Did you ever give someone a fake name, knowing you wouldn't see them again, so you could be whoever you wanted to be, just for the night? Then you know what I mean.<br />
Did you ever give someone a fake number? Well then, you suck. Don't be a coward, just tell them you're not interested. You deal with a moment of feeling uncomfortable, rather than subjecting them to possibly hours or days of discomfort, and feeling like a fool, and looking like a heartless bitch.<br />
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On to the story...<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XIX – Name Game</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">She watches him run the high hurdles course, clearing every one.<span> </span>She admires his firm, lean body, muscles sweating in the heat of the day.<span> </span>‘Those legs,’ she thinks, ‘sooo well built.<span> </span>Kurita-LR800; the best.<span> </span>Good for anything, amazing for runners, especially pros like him.<span> </span>Damn, he looks good in that bronze real-muscle look.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">When he finishes the hurdles, he begins laps on the outside track.<span> </span>She runs up beside him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hi.<span> </span>Nice workout,” she says.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hi.<span> </span>Thanks,” he responds.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Kuritas, huh?<span> </span>You like them?<span> </span>Fast enough?” she asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“They’re plenty fast, pretty lady.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Wanna race?” she asks, putting her long, red hair into a ponytail.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What do I get when I win?” he asks, confident of the outcome.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“A kiss.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“And if you win, however unlikely that may be?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“A kiss.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“O.K.<span> </span>Four times around the track, on three.”<span> </span>He slows his pace to let her get a few steps ahead.<span> </span>“One, two, three.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="-moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous; -moz-background-origin: padding; background: rgb(255, 255, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 0%;">She takes off in a blur.<span> </span>He’s never seen anyone move so fast.<span> </span>She shattered his world record, beating him by many seconds.<span> </span>He couldn’t believe it.<span> </span>She jogs</span> over to him from the finish.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“How?<span> </span>What kind of legs are those?<span> </span>That’s incredible!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“They’re alien tech,” she answers.<span> </span>“Got them through the Pocait Trade Alliance.<span> </span>Illegal for sports, but great for getting out of bad situations.<span> </span>Or into good ones.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Wow. Amazing.”<span> </span>He still can’t believe it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“So where’s my kiss?” she asks, leaning toward him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh, I…” He is unable to finish his words.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">As she gets into his vehicle to go to his place, he begins to speak, and turns to her.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I feel I should at least tell you who I am.<span> </span>My name…”<span> </span>She stops him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Ssshh… no.<span> </span>No names.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Why?” he asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t want anything strange to happen to us.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Hope you enjoyed this part. It's one of my favorites. More in a few days. Thanks for stopping by. Leave me a comment so I know you were here. ? Even if it's just 'Kilroy was here'. :)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-74083019981706910602011-04-30T11:29:00.000-07:002011-04-30T11:29:30.136-07:00References to other stuff; stuff I didn't writeI hide little references to stuff I like in my writing. Maybe you've caught some of them. This has one that isn't hidden very well. And another is a quote I always wanted to hear someone say on an old sci-fi show I watched when I was a kid. See if you spot them.<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XVIII – I Just Wanted A Soda</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">Rock wakes up in a small, white room with one door and no windows.<span> </span>He soon discovers he is strapped down to a table, with a pillow under his head.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hello,” a voice on an intercom says.<span> </span>“How are you feeling?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Who are you?<span> </span>Where the hell am I?” Rock yells.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I am Doctor Smith, your Primary Care Psychological Technician.<span> </span>You are in the Quincy Metropolis Mental Health Center, Ward South Two.<span> </span>Are you feeling better now?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I’d feel better if you let me the fuck out of here!!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Well; you’ll never get well with that attitude,” the voice says.<span> </span>“When you are ready to co-operate with us, I’ll be back.<span> </span>Please, help me to help you.<span> </span>If you do, you can get off that table and into a casual restraint jacket.<span> </span>Would you like that, Mr. Tone?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“AAaahh!<span> </span>Let me out of here you bastard!<span> </span>I’ll sue your ass!<span> </span>I’m a rock star! I have friends in high places! You’ll regret ever fucking with me Dr. Smith!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Nurse, have the room filled with sedative gas, then hook up the Thoughtscan Imager.<span> </span>I want to see this man’s nightmares.<span> </span>I want to see how his brain works while he sleeps.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yes, Dr. Smith.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“My God,” he says aloud.<span> </span>He is alone in the monitor room, viewing Rock Tone’s dreams.<span> </span>As he sees the figure of the shadow-lurker, sliding its un-natural shape about the twilight shadows of the ruins, he himself begins to feel the terror of Rock Tone, asleep on a table in a small room.<span> </span>‘It seems so real; more so than any other dream I’ve seen.’<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">As Rock runs through the twilight ruins, he sees shadows of the lurkers everywhere, sometimes one of their withered limbs, but never does he get a clear picture of their horrible, true form.<span> </span>Rock turns a corner quickly, running into a pillar of ancient stone.<span> </span>As he gets up, he feels the shadow-lurkers closer, closer…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Dr. Smith jumps up from his seat, pressing a button on the console in front of him.<span> </span>“Nurse!<span> </span>Wake Mr. Tone immediately! Nurse!<span> </span>Wake him now!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“She can’t hear you anymore.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What?”<span> </span>Dr. Smith utters, turning around.<span> </span>The sight of the shadow-lurker, its full form revealed there in the bright monitor room, is too much for his mind.<span> </span>The terror causes his heart to fail, and he falls to the floor clutching feebly at his chest.</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" /> </span>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-41640311048019150822011-04-26T19:35:00.000-07:002011-04-26T19:35:10.339-07:00It's Two-fer-Tuesday!!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XVII – The Dream</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“Did you see the old man?” Rock asks the bald man, tugging at his sleeve while he talks at him.<span> </span>“Just then, across the intersection.<span> </span>It was him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What are you talking about?<span> </span>It was who?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“The old man.<span> </span>The one who created the sunlit city, before it became the twilight city.<span> </span>I saw him.”<span> </span>Rock rants on, “That’s the second time.<span> </span>But he’s dead.<span> </span>So are the lizard-men.<span> </span>That’s why the city is in twilight.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Rock, pal, take it easy,” the bald man says.<span> </span>“We’ll get you to a doctor for your dreams.<span> </span>You’ll be fine.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“No, you don’t get it.<span> </span>They’re not just dreams; it’s a whole other reality.<span> </span>It’s <b>real</b>.”<span> </span>Rock closes his eyes, pounds his fist on the dash of the aircar.<span> </span>“And I’m afraid of what those dreaded shadow-lurkers will do when they get me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Rock, my friend,’ the bald man thinks, ‘I hope we can get the kind of help you may need.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“They think I’m this human-god that the dead lizard-men worshiped, and the twilight gods want me dead.<span> </span>I try to tell them I’m not a god, just a singer in a rock band, but they don’t listen.<span> </span>They just hang around and… <b>lurk</b>.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Well, as long as they don’t come any closer, you’ll be O.K., eh?” the bald man says lightly.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“No, you don’t grok;<span> </span>they <b>lurk</b>; in the <b>shadows</b>.<span> </span>They just… they…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Rock passes out from the pill the bald man put in his drink.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Finally,’ the bald man thinks. ‘Rock’s really losing it.<span> </span>I hope it’s just some drugs, or something.<span> </span>Maybe the pressures of stardom getting to him.<span> </span>I’ll take him somewhere to get checked out.’</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-56675893058889463102011-04-26T19:32:00.000-07:002011-04-26T19:32:46.856-07:00This has nothing to do with the song<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">...but I'm still going to post this video with it. Just because.<u></u></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u><br />
</u></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u><br />
</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/aRpj3r_MrMw/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aRpj3r_MrMw&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aRpj3r_MrMw&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XVI – Hello Old Friend</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent2">He was breathless at the image of beauty before him.<span> </span>Her hair was long, and fiery red, and her red dress was well tailored to fit her petite, athletic figure.<span> </span>Her bright green eyes met his, and her moist, red lips formed the word ‘Hello.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hi,” he responds.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hi, yourself.”<span> </span>She pulls a smoke from her purse, an old fashioned Long Light.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Got a light?” she asks, fluttering her lashes at him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t smoke,” he replies.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Everyone smokes.”<span> </span>She flips her hair.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Well, you should start,” she says, reaching into her purse for her lighter.<span> </span>“What are you doing here?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Waiting for you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh, how romantic.<span> </span>Do you say that to all the pigeons?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Only you,” he says, taking the Long from between her lips.<span> </span>He puts it out in the ashtray.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“How’s that, yobbo?”<span> </span>she says, annoyed by his daring.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“You should stop.<span> </span>At least for now.<span> </span>We should get going.”<span> </span>He grabs her hand with his cyberarm.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“What’s your hurry, old man?<span> </span>You don’t see your war buddy for years, then we can’t stay out late?<span> </span>Aunt Sarah got you on a short leash?”<span> </span>the fire-haired girl jokes.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Sarah’s gone.”<span> </span>The pain is clear in his eyes as the words come out.<span> </span>“You’re being followed.<span> </span>We should go. Now.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh, Gods, I’m sorry.<span> </span>I didn’t know.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Forget it.<span> </span>Those suits are here to watch you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Who?” she asks, turning to look that way.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“No, don’t… now we gotta go.<span> </span>They know we spotted them.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Where’ll we go?” she asks him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I’ll explain on the way,” he says as he escorts her to the door.<span> </span>“Let’s hurry; Vostok’s waiting.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“Vostok?” she questions.<span> </span>“I thought he was dead.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“I hope not; he’s our getaway driver.”</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-74806731397138748962011-04-15T12:59:00.000-07:002011-04-15T12:59:40.630-07:00The horror...Horror comes from the terrible things you see. Terror comes from what you don't see. Your own brain can scare you with it's visions of what <i>could </i>be around that corner far more than whatever is actually there. It's one of the things that separates Stephen King's horror from H.P. Lovecraft's terror. All fear is, at its base, a fear of the unknown. No matter how horrible and monstrous something looks, once you get a good description of its every detail, it's a little less scary. <br />
<br />
This is one of my personal favorite parts that I've written. It's right about here that the story became really fun to write. Please enjoy...<br />
<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XV – </u><u>Twilight</u><u> </u><u>City</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">In the eerie twilight of the ruined, once sunlit city, he peers around a decayed column, spying a <b>shadow</b> that chills his body.<span> </span>A <b>shadow,</b> of what must be said to have been a limb, though distorted by twilight.<span> </span>But not any known limb of a man, nor even of the lizard-men that thrived in the sunlit city of long ago.<span> </span>It appeared a singularly inhuman appendage, resembling vaguely the weathered limb of an ancient tree.<span> </span>Looking closer, with hope that it was a trick of the unearthly twilight, it <b>moved</b>, and he glimpsed another, similar shadow to his side, but not just a shadow, but the withered treelike limb itself, quickly pulling behind the ruins of an ancient bathhouse.<span> </span>Noises of movement to all sides brings fear to the young man’s heart, knowing the human-gods of the sunlit-dream-city would not be well received by the withered shadow-lurkers of the ruins, or by their distinctly more monstrous, terrifying gods of the twilight city.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">Rock wakes with a jump.<span> </span>“What the fuck was that?!” he yells.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“We were wondering the same thing,” his keyboardist says.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What happened?” Rock asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You passed out, took a header, right in the middle of ‘Clone Heroes.’<span> </span>Rock, pal, are you doin’ O.K.?<span> </span>Are you on the horse?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I don’t know what happened, man,” Rock replies, “and I ain’t done drugs in days.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Can you go back out there?” his manager asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Yeah, let’s go.<span> </span>Yeah!” Rock shouts as he gets up.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">The Eudoran in the balcony of the dark club speaks into his wristphone.<span> </span>“It’s done.<span> </span>The dream is implanted.<span> </span>He can’t escape the nightmares now.<span> </span>Where will I collect the rest of my fee?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">He turns to leave as the Element come back onto the stage to finish their sold-out show at Mew Channel Club.<span> </span>Rock Tone has forgotten about the dream already.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Thanks for stopping by. </div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-91148525414759042002011-04-10T12:05:00.000-07:002011-04-10T12:05:46.754-07:00The Flu, and what comes afterHad the flu for about a week. Really beat me down. In that time, I missed more days of work than I have in the last six months or so. Also, I found some great music that was new to me. Here's a little of it;<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/yiQ7S38nKog?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/G6VEug5CwuY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
And some more of the story. It starts to come together here, hold on, it'll all pan out. Really, trust me...<br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><u>Part XIV – Vostok</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">As she sifts through the rubble of what was once Vostok’s building, she sifts through her last day or so in her mind.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘I can’t believe they’re still after me.<span> </span>How the hell do they keep finding me?<span> </span>First my place, then here.<span> </span>I hope Vostok got out.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">She sees his shades, broken underneath cold stone and steel.<span> </span>The cyberjack still has blood on it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Shit,” she says out loud.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Gotta get mobile.<span> </span>They’ll be here soon.<span> </span>They always are.’ She goes down the street to the aircar she stole, and gets in.<span> </span>She starts it up and heads toward the nearest tunnel to Level Two.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘What did he say? A beacon? But how?<span> </span>I don’t have anything of theirs except… The program!’<span> </span>She pounds the dash with her fist.<span> </span>She checks the system of her On-Body-Computer, looking for anything unusual.<span> </span>It’s hidden well, but not well enough.<span> </span>‘This is amazing.<span> </span>I didn’t even notice.<span> </span>Whoever came up with this is brilliant.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">She marvels at it.<span> </span>This program somehow gains access to the system it resides in, and has it send out a homing signal for it over the Matrix, a radio, whatever means it has at its disposal.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘I went through all this and I can’t keep it.<span> </span>And by the time I could sell it, I’d be dead.<span> </span>If I ever meet the guy who wrote this… the trouble he caused me… bastard.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">As she erases the program from her O.B.C., she thinks about her friend Vostok.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘I think he made it outta the building.<span> </span>I hope he did. He always seems to come through O.K.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Saurian swivels in his chair, and looks up through thick glasses.<span> </span>“My O.B.C. tells me another copy of your brilliant program has been erased.<span> </span>Do you think it could be that blond girl?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“It could have been.<span> </span>She’s smarter than you think.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Saurian looks across his desk into the other man’s shades.<span> </span>“If she’s smart enough, we could use her.<span> </span>Keep an eye on her. We’re all done here.”<span> </span>He turns his chair to the window, his back now to the other man, who gets up and walks to the door.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh,” starts Saurian, “Sorry about your building, Vostok.<span> </span>But you should live up here in real sunlight with better people anyway.<span> </span>You could afford it now.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Vostok slams the door behind him on his way out into the real world below.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">------------------------------------------------------------------------- </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Thanks for stopping by! Come back later, I'll have more stuff for you in a few days. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-47831195301822101802011-04-05T09:45:00.000-07:002011-04-05T09:45:03.874-07:00Now on to part two ofI've been sick for a few days. Fighting off a cold with rest, Alka-Seltzer, and fine Lagavulin Scotch. Mmmm...<br />
So, on to another part starring our blond friend. <br />
<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part XIII – The Blonde’s Second Mistake</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>She barely dodges the high-powered bolter fire from the skycycle pursuing her as she weaves up through the third traffic level.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘How’d they find me?’ She wonders.<span> </span>‘I just left the place twenty minutes ago.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>She takes a left the next chance she gets, then stops around the corner.<span> </span>She readies her rifle, waiting for the skycycle.<span> </span>As it turns the corner, she fires a grenade, hitting it dead-on.<span> </span>The skycycle explodes, and crashes into the Cityblock beside it on the fall to the ground.<span> </span>Shards of metal and transluminum fly everywhere, one piece impaling her cyberarm.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘Shit,’ she thinks as she looks at her damaged arm. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Shit,’ she thinks again as the police aircar rises up in front of her.<span> </span>She flies straight toward the hole made by the falling skycycle, and gets inside the Residential Cityblock.<span> </span>Once inside, she knows she can get away.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Back at her place, she copies the stolen data onto another chip, and stores the chip and its data in her home terminal.<span> </span>‘It never hurts to have a backup.<span> </span>Maybe I can sell it to someone else.<span> </span>My buyer won’t know; unless he has a Eudoran with him when we meet tomorrow.<span> </span>I wouldn’t think so.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">She looks at her damaged cyberarm.<span> </span>‘Gotta get this fixed,’ she thinks. ‘I’ll go see Vostok.<span> </span>Maybe he knows someone who’ll buy my data.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">She grabs her jetpack and heads outside.<span> </span>When she’s flying away from her apartment, three skycycles converge on the window to her place.<span> </span>They begin firing their bolters, then missiles into it, destroying her apartment and the surrounding apartments as well.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘What the hell?’ she thinks.<span> </span>‘How did they find me again?<span> </span>Better get outta here; Vostok’ll help me.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">She turns and begins to fly away, but isn’t watching where to.<span> </span>She bumps right into an aircar stopped in traffic.<span> </span>She looks through the windshield at the surprised bald man at the controls.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Sorry,” she says.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey; I know you!” the bald man shouts as she flies away.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Who was she?” Rock asks his friend.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“An old friend,” the bald man answers.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You always did like blondes,” Rock jokes.</div><br />
So now you've met most of the main characters. Have a favorite? Someone you don't like? Let me know. It'll let me know someone's actually reading this...:) Thanks! Next time we'll see some more of someone we know already, and maybe meet someone new. Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-63023845703973491682011-03-31T12:51:00.000-07:002011-03-31T12:51:44.596-07:00On the other side of that doorYou actually know what's happening in the room down the hall. But do you know that you know...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part XII – The Blonde’s First Mistake</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"> She looks down through the vent into the hallway. The bodies of two security guards are lifeless on the floor. She can hear the sounds of fighting down the hall, in the direction the man who killed the guards went. ‘That gut with the old slugthrowers is good,’ she thinks. ‘I’ll have to avoid him; don’t want to be mistaken for security.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> She pushes open the vent and drops onto the floor. She looks down the hallway, toward the direction of the gunshots. The doors to the big room at the end are open, with four dead guards lying in the doorway. She bends down to pick up a bolter rifle. A sudden explosion from the big room sends her diving to the floor. A cloud of smoke and debris billows out through the doors.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> ‘Rifle launched grenade.’ She picks herself up off the floor. ‘I’m not gonna stick around to see who comes outta there. Either way it could be bad for me.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> She heads the other way, turning left down a different hallway. She passes numerous scorch marks from bolters on the walls, and a few dead security guards, before reaching her destination. The metal door to the lab is locked, but it’s no problem for her. She jacks in, finding the code in seconds, and opens the door. She walks into the lab, and goes right to the terminal. The information is very easy to find. She doesn’t even need to enter the virtual Matrix to find it. ‘Piece of cake. Guess they never expected anyone to get in here. Guess they never heard of me. Good for me.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> She downloads the data onto a chip, then puts it in the port on the back of her neck. She hears footsteps out in the hall, and ducks behind the metal desk. She sees the man in the trenchcoat walk past the door. ‘That’s my cue to get out of here. The cops’ll be swarmin’ this place in minutes, looking for someone to blame. Don’t wanna be that person. I got what I came for, plus a new rifle I could sell.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> She gets up into the ventilation shafts, which she follows to the roof and her awaiting jetpack. She straps it on and flies off into the artificial daylight of City Level One.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Until next time... </div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-42996534371351443932011-03-28T13:23:00.000-07:002011-03-28T13:23:12.032-07:00And now back to our regularly scheduled program...Been away for a few days, now I'm back to pick up where I left off.<br />
'When last we left our heroes'...well, there was stuff happening, that didn't make much sense at the time, so this won't help clear things up at all. Or will it...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part XI – Closure</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“P-please don’t,” Cameron begs.<span> </span>“I’ll pay anything.<span> </span>Just don’t kill me, please!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Standing at the door, he holsters his Kolt 700 and looks at Cameron groveling on the floor.<span> </span>“Sobbing for your life.<span> </span>You disgust me.<span> </span>Do you know how many you’ve murdered?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I’ve never killed anyone!” Cameron counters.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“No; you paid someone else to do it for you.<span> </span>Or your company did it, by forcing families off farms, or out of their own businesses.<span> </span>You took something from them, and from me, that your money could never bring back.”<span> </span>Just then, a security guard runs, bolter rifle at the ready, into the bright office.<span> </span>The guard shouts ‘Freeze!’.<span> </span>Instead of standing still, the man in the trenchcoat swings around, grabs the guard’s throat with his cyberarm, and breaks his neck with a twist of the wrist.<span> </span>The guard’s lifeless body drops to the floor.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Oh, God,” Cameron sobs.<span> </span>“No, don’t kill me, please.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Shut up,” he says to Cameron as he drags him by the collar to the large window overlooking the harbor.<span> </span>“Transluminum, right?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He taps the window with his fingers.<span> </span>“We must be pretty high up.<span> </span>Above most of the thick smog layers.<span> </span>Must be one of the tallest buildings in the city.<span> </span>Must make you feel good, being up here in the sun, above everyone else, all the little unimportant people down there.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He pulls out his old slugthrower.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“No, oh no, please,” Cameron cries.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I’m not going to shoot you, don’t worry about that.<span> </span>This is for the window.”<span> </span>He takes three shots into the window, cracking and breaking it.<span> </span>A punch with his cyberarm knocks out the broken pieces.<span> </span>“I’m not even going to kill you.<span> </span>I’ll let something else do that.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What is-is it?”<span> </span>Cameron asks, fearing the answer.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“The ground,” he replies, and picks Cameron up with his cyberarm and tosses him out the window.<span> </span>He watches Cameron fall until he gets into the smog layers and can’t be seen.<span> </span>As he turns away from the window, he pulls a picture from inside his armored trenchcoat.<span> </span>He looks at the image of the woman and the little girl, both smiling and beautiful. ‘I know you’ll never come back, but now neither will he.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>A single tear falls from his eye onto the picture in his hand.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Next time around, you'll get to meet someone new. </div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-16466843890444314432011-03-25T15:31:00.000-07:002011-03-25T15:31:07.350-07:00Lazy todayJust some music I love today. I'll post some more of my story tomorrow night.<br />
If you like the 'Alt-rock', you should give these a listen. Good stuff.<br />
<br />
"December's tragic drive..." Brilliant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/QMkH6xi6-Og?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
"If their hearts were dying that fast, they'd have done the same as you..." Brilliant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/uY1ahFCYT5k?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
"All this time looking for love and you want to find peace, and you find me..." Brilliant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/xWSrxkLEAGA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
"I couldn't end it there..." Brilliant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/cTU4M1_DBAs/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cTU4M1_DBAs&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cTU4M1_DBAs&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><br />
"So you can't hold a star in your hand..." Brilliant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4jIhYoOUdp8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
"The glove compartment isn't accurately named, and everybody knows it..." Brilliant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/1XmbvfxMiUE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-15804986530109892972011-03-23T07:28:00.000-07:002011-03-23T07:28:47.230-07:00Double shotThese parts are both pretty short, so I've got a double-shot today.<br />
<br />
And just because;<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/z5U9QRiY46I?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part IX – Downtime</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>The bald man looks up from his desk when his partner comes in.<span> </span>“Where you been?” he asks</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Shopping, I guess you could say.<span> </span>Got a new gun.<span> </span>It’s old, of course; a Wesson-Jones.<span> </span>Different from the Kolts I have, but a good old slugthrower nonetheless.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I got bad news partner,” the bald man says.<span> </span>“I talked to Rock earlier.<span> </span>Declan got nailed.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Declan?<span> </span>How?<span> </span>He’s one of the best.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Rock said it was on a job against the Company.<span> </span>He said Declan and Wilson took out a few security teams before they ran into a Eudoran.<span> </span>Now he’s nearly brain-dead.<span> </span>No function except to keep him alive.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Those bastards.<span> </span>First that Borg, now this.<span> </span>Robots, aliens, what’s next, Syneshtia Bees in the aircar?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“So what do we do?” the bald man asks his partner.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What do we do?<span> </span>We get the bastards who’re responsible.<span> </span>We go after the Company.<span> </span>Get in touch with Rock and the others.<span> </span>We’re going to need some help on this one.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" /> </span> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part X – Our Gang</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>The stereo is on in the background as the three friends sit in Rock Tone’s studio.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“…And that was the new song from Rock Tone and the Element.<span> </span>The latest on the shooting at their show yesterday.<span> </span>The bassist was apprehended this morning, after killing four cops and wounding twenty-two people, mostly people at the free concert.<span> </span>Hats off to her, and luck to the Element finding a replacement for their cursed bassist spot…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Radio,” says Rock. “Shut the hell up.”<span> </span>The stereo turns itself off, and Rock turns to his two friends.<span> </span>“So what do we have to do?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The bald man turns to his partner.<span> </span>“Yeah, what’s the deal?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Rock,” his partner starts, “I need you to call on our old buddy Facelift.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“He ain’t been around since he flatlined Vampire Jones.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“That was a couple years back.<span> </span>I think Jones’s corporate pals are over it by now.<span> </span>Just see what he says.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I’ll call Vostok,” the bald man suggests.<span> </span>“I’m sure we could use his help.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Good idea,” his partner says.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“And you?” Rock asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I’m going to call an old war buddy of mine who owes me a big one.<span> </span>I think the six of us will be good.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“We’ve got our team, and our objective.<span> </span>We’re golden!” Rock sings.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Yeah; we just need one thing now,” the bald man mutters.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What’s that, big guy?”<span> </span>Rock asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“A plan.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The radio turns itself back on…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“…her last words as Element bassist Moon Lace was being dragged into the prison; ‘I didn’t shoot no one that didn’t need shootin’…’”</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-2481776928571593862011-03-19T11:56:00.000-07:002011-03-19T11:56:54.408-07:00Not much to say...on to the story...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u> </u></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part VIII – The Eudoran Setup</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>Declan wipes the sweat from his brow with his hand and feels his pulse racing.<span> </span>The long fight has really tired him out.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“How you doing?” he asks Wilson.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Bruised, battered, tired, and my armor’s almost gone, but I’ll live.<span> </span>Assuming we get outta here.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Oh c’mon, we’ll make it.<span> </span>This’s been easy.<span> </span>These security teams are nothing to two pros like us, old buddy.”<span> </span>He’s lying, though.<span> </span>His E-shields are low, and his light armor vest isn’t much good against high power bolters on its own.<span> </span>He’s tired; worn out from fighting through the complex.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘If only we’d noticed that alarm back in the lab.<span> </span>That’s really Wilson’s job, but can’t be too hard on him.<span> </span>He hasn’t been doing this sort of thing as long as I have.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“We can take those stairs down to the third floor, then the lift to the transport to the subway,” Wilson says after checking the map of the complex on his On-Body-Computer.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Let’s do it, then.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>They run down the stairs and step into the hallway.<span> </span>Wilson draws his bolter pistol and loads a new clip.<span> </span>Declan has his vibro-sword drawn, and his other hand at the ready by his side to grab the vibro-knives from in his coat.<span> </span>He’d rather not use the last few charges in his bolter unless he has to.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>They walk cautiously toward the elevator down the hall.<span> </span>It’s very dim due to the damage to the generator their fight caused, so Declan puts on his low-light glasses.<span> </span>They hear the elevator door open, and a lone, dark figure steps into the hallway.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘White skin, black hat, gloves… Shit!<span> </span>Eudoran!’<span> </span>Declan pushes Wilson into an open doorway.<span> </span>“Quiet,” he whispers.<span> </span>He sees Wilson’s puzzled expression, and whispers to him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“A fucking Eudoran.<span> </span>They’re Teeps; you know telepaths.”<span> </span>Wilson nods.<span> </span>“On three.<span> </span>Ready, one, two… three.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>They jump out, Wilson firing four shots down the hall at the Eudoran.<span> </span>The shots are stopped short by an E-shield and the Eudoran’s armor coat.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The Eudoran looks at Wilson and waves his hand in Wilson’s direction.<span> </span>His bolter explodes in his hand, sending its energy and metal shards into his body.<span> </span>He drops to the floor, twitching and gasping for air.<span> </span>Declan looks down at his friend, then charges the Eudoran, yelling as he swings his sword.<span> </span>His strike is parried by a blade of blue energy that suddenly materializes in the Eudoran’s hand.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘Shit!<span> </span>What the fuck is that?!’ Declan thinks as he fences the Eudoran and the psi-blade.<span> </span>‘This Eudoran’s a great swordsman.<span> </span>I’m dead if I don’t get the hell out of here.<span> </span>The Company pulled out all the stops for this one.<span> </span>Fucking psychic swordsman.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Declan steps back away from the Eudoran, who waves his hand, and Declan’s body is flung against the ceiling, then dropped to the floor with a thud.<span> </span>His head bounces off the floor, and one of his ankles breaks.<span> </span>He turns onto his back, and throws two vibro-knives at the advancing Eudoran.<span> </span>They stop in mid-flight, turn, and fly back at Declan, one impaling his left leg, the other just missing his head.<span> </span>He winces in pain and reaches for his leg.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The Eudoran reaches down and grabs his short, black hair, turning Declan’s face toward his own.<span> </span>The Eudoran holds the psi-blade to Declan’s forehead.<span> </span>“Don’t worry,” he says.<span> </span>“This won’t hurt as much as killing you would.”<span> </span>He stabs the blade into Declan’s head, scrambling his brain functions like an egg.<span> </span>For a second, Declan wonders if he’ll be a vegetable; but only for a second. After that, he is incapable of thought at all.</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-11575090297893410012011-03-16T13:24:00.000-07:002011-03-16T13:24:45.586-07:00Cool StuffDon't forget to check out the cool stuff I linked to over on the right.<br />
Some Cracked, some Glyos, some toys, and the awesome Gendrone Chronicles, among other things.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
They're right over there >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-56816365921515656032011-03-15T14:24:00.000-07:002011-03-15T14:24:30.961-07:00Some characters do have namesThis is the first part of the story where we learn one of the main characters names. There's a reason why you don't know the other guys' names. Maybe you'll figure it out. Eventually someone will tell you why. See if you can catch it. And see if you can catch the reference to a song from 1981 (that's the only clue you're getting).<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part VII – The Wrong Guy</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>By the time he gets to the Level Two Common, the show has already started.<span> </span>Rock Tone and the Element really have the crowd raging.<span> </span>They’re in the middle of their<span> </span>classic ‘Clone Heroes,’ their new bassist really keeping up quite well with her new band.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Not that it matters much to him.<span> </span>He’s plugged into his own player listening to something completely different.<span> </span>He looks up at the band, then around at the crowd.<span> </span>‘I’ll never find them in this crowd.<span> </span>I’ll just keep busy, then meet up at the end of the show.<span> </span>We’ll have plenty of loot by then.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He works through the crowd, pickpocketing along the way.<span> </span>He gets bumped by some guy dancing and drops his hoverboard.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Hey, watchit yobbo!” he yells.<span> </span>“That’s a Hosoi 1600.<span> </span>Cost more’n you’re worth!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He looks up at the unhappy bald man and his tall partner.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Excuse me?” says the bald man.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Whoa, sorry guy, I thought you… I mean I didn’t… ah… uh; bye.”<span> </span>He stumbles away into the crowd quickly. ‘How crass.<span> </span>Old guy gotta start shit here at the show, and he ain’t got cash.<span> </span>Just this stupid crystal ball.<span> </span>Gotta be worth somethin’ to someone.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He feels a tap on his shoulder.<span> </span>“Excuse me.<span> </span>I think you have something that belongs to me,” the voice says.<span> </span>He turns to see a tall man in an armored trenchcoat, pulled back slightly to reveal an old slugthrower.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Oh, sorry, here,” he says, throwing a wallet at the man and running into the crowd, toward the street.<span> </span>He turns to look behind him and sees the man running after him. ‘I need to get in the open, use my board.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“She’s got a gun!” someone yells, and the crowd starts screaming and running in all directions.<span> </span>The sound of assault rifle shots is almost drowned out by the screams of fleeing concert-goers.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘What the…’ he looks back to see the Element’s new bassist shooting wildly into the crowd and at security personnel.<span> </span>‘Shit!’<span> </span>He drops his board, jumps on, and heads for the street as fast as a Hosoi can go.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He hits the street amidst the fleeing crowd, and is immediately chased down by the bald man in an aircar, cursing wildly at him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘Shit; I picked the wrong guys to steal from,’ he thinks, as he speeds through a red light, barely missing crossing traffic.<span> </span>The aircar flies right over the intersection, inches above the traffic.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>After rounding the next corner, the bald man is right behind him.<span> </span>‘Gotta get to the alley.<span> </span>He can’t tail me into there.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Just as the aircar is about to run him down, he turns into a tight alley, too narrow for the wide, gleaming aircar.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Yes!” he shouts, looking back and laughing at the cursing bald man.<span> </span>‘Now to find my crew.’<span> </span>He takes the turn from the alley onto the street too quickly, adrenalin clouding his judgment.<span> </span>He doesn’t even see the truck that runs him down or hear its brakes as it hits him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Did you find it?” the bald man asks his partner.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“No, did you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“No, but we better.<span> </span>We went through a lot recently.<span> </span>I’d like to have something to show for it for once.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the next installment, Part VIII - The Eudoran Setup, in a couple days. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-7628000134424070312011-03-12T11:53:00.000-08:002011-03-12T11:53:44.687-08:00It starts coming togetherRight about now the story starts to come together.<br />
And just because I listened to this earlier;<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/qiKOif0UKRM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Stayin Alive has the best bass line ever. There, I said it. :)<br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part VI – Connections</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText">‘This has to be the easiest money we’ve made in a while,’ the bald man thinks.<span> </span>‘This better go down well.<span> </span>Ever since the Company blew up our apartment, I’ve eaten nothing but kibble and meal bars.’<span> </span>He puts down his half-eaten meal bar and takes a swig of his hooch.<span> </span>‘When Stern buys that Jelly from us, we’ll be all set.<span> </span>Think I’ll get a new driver seat for the old aircar.<span> </span>Some nice synthsuede, with massage.’<span> </span>He turns up the radio.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“…and here’s the latest from The Element; Rock Tone and crew got a new bassist, and a mini-tour, coming right here to New Boston Meg, on the Level Two Common.<span> </span>This cut is ‘Farmtech Sucks,’ from the album ‘The Egg Machine’…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘I’ll have to see Rock when he comes around.<span> </span>Assuming Farmtech doesn’t get the show sabotaged or canceled again.<span> </span>His music isn’t always my style, but he is my old buddy, and they put on a good show.<span> </span>And we really need a break from all this for awhile.<span> </span>Syneshtia’s not a short trip, or a nice place to visit.<span> </span>And the Pocait Trade Alliance wasn’t too happy with us ‘liberating’ that cargo ship for the trip home.<span> </span>If that woman wasn’t such a good pilot, we’d be scattered all over the Syneshtan System.<span> </span>It’s too bad what happened to her, crashing into her own place like that.<span> </span>At least she went out in a blaze of glory; now what was her name?<span> </span>Daly… Delia…?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>His train of thought is broken by a flashing light and buzzer on the dash.<span> </span>‘The panic signal.<span> </span>Something’s wrong.<span> </span>Better take the ol’ aircar up for a look.’<span> </span>As the bald man pilots his aircar up toward the brown, hazy sky, he sees what looks like someone falling.<span> </span>The panic signal sounds again.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“There he is,” he says aloud, steering toward his falling partner.<span> </span>‘Here we go again,’ he thinks. <span> </span>‘No vacation on New Kolarr for me anytime soon.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The bald man takes a bite of his meal bar and reaches to turn on the anti-grav ray to save his partner from the ground far, far below.</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-41747181452804452802011-03-10T11:29:00.000-08:002011-03-10T11:29:23.390-08:00Raw and uneditedI don't edit much. I just write. I rarely go back and change anything. So, what you see is almost always exactly as I wrote it, first draft. I feel too much editing can alter the intended mood, especially if it's been a long time, and the original feelings, motivations and inspirations are long gone, maybe forgotten.<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part V – For Sarah, and Little Zoe</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>He scurries around the corner, keeping low and using the smoke and dust for cover.<span> </span>Kneeling behind the thick column, he checks his rifle.<span> </span>‘The whole team,’ he thinks. ‘The whole goddamn team.<span> </span>Who the hell is he?’<span> </span>He calls on his headset for backup, but gets no response.<span> </span>With the lift out and the stairs blocked, it looked like he had only one option.<span> </span>‘Gotta get him before he gets me.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He loads his last grenade into his rifle, and replaces the spent clip for the bolter.<span> </span>Lowering the multi-optic goggles on his helmet, he peers around the corner.<span> </span>He sees his target, across the large, smoke-filled room, hiding behind another of the large square columns.<span> </span>The target cautiously leans around the corner of the column, then steps out into the open.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘Here’s my shot,’ he thinks, and pulls the trigger on his grenade launcher.<span> </span>The target dives to the floor in front of the column, shielding him from the blast on the wall behind it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘Damn,’ he thinks, as the bullet hits his helmet.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He opens his eyes to the barrel of an old Kolt 700 slugthrower, pointed at him by a scraggly, tall man.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Don’t make me kill you,” the man says.<span> </span>“While you were sleeping, I took off your helmet, and took your rifle, of course.<span> </span>You’re lucky.”<span> </span>He holds up the dented helmet.<span> </span>“I checked your I.D. card, too.<span> </span>Twenty-five, City Security for five years, wife and daughter; nice pictures, happy family.<span> </span>Let me give you some advice.<span> </span>Your boss is crooked; the Company owns him.<span> </span>You seem honest, try to stay that way.<span> </span>And, if you don’t move for three minutes after I leave, you’ll go home to your wife and baby girl tonight.<span> </span>Any questions?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“J-just one,” he spits out, quivering.<span> </span>“W-why?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I don’t want to kill you.<span> </span>You’re just doin’ your job.<span> </span>They probably told you I was a terrorist or a cyber-psycho.<span> </span>I don’t expect you to know the big picture.<span> </span>And, I’m feeling good today.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Th-thank you,” he says to the tall, bearded man.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The man holsters his old pistol, turns, and walks away.</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>“One more thing,” he calls over his shoulder.<span> </span>“When you get home, tell your wife and daughter that you love them.”<span> </span>The hint of sadness in his voice is almost lost in the large, smoky room.<span> </span>The young security guard thanks his God for this fortune.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>As his partner gets into the aircar, the bald man lowers the volume on the stereo, and turns to him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What happened?” he asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“City Security Team.<span> </span>Had to flatline all but one of them.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Why not that one?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I just…”<span> </span>He stops, then starts again, “I just ran out of bullets, that’s all.”</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5131667960480738605.post-2169075078690809452011-03-08T10:08:00.000-08:002011-03-08T10:08:14.239-08:00The good-guys shouldn't always winOf course, you don't know who the 'good-guys' are in this story yet. I like stories where the 'good-guys' lose. They seem more 'real' somehow. It started when I was a kid, and saw a movie on TV about a spy, who went through all this crazy stuff, thought he 'won', but at the end was killed by the person in the government who was his boss. To this day I have no idea what the name of the movie was, and have never seen it again. But it had an impact.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">SPOILERS AHEAD <span style="font-size: small;">You have been warned</span></span>.<br />
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Even though just the mention of the following will spoil the endings for you, I have to suggest these;<br />
The Wicker Man (the original, not the horrid remake from a few years back)<br />
Spellbinder (A movie from the 80s. Pretty crappy, really, but if you can sit through it, very rewarding.)<br />
I Am Legend (The Richard Matheson novel, not the Will Smith movie)<br />
Soylent Green (A sci-fi classic)<br />
Silent Running (Really, the good-guys don't lose, but at the end, it does leave you in a place you don't quite expect movies to leave you.)<br />
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Now on to the main event.<br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Part IV – The Big Hit</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span> </span>He finally finds the door to the stairs, and kicks it open.<span> </span>‘Only a few more levels to the roof.’<span> </span>He stumbles up the first few stairs, his leg burning from the Borg’s bolter.<span> </span>He’s wheezing and coughing up blood by the time he reaches the next level.<span> </span>The air filters don’t work so well deep in Level One, where the air is thick.<span> </span>His own filter mask was knocked off by the Borg’s first punch, which also broke his jaw.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The hit team was no problem for him.<span> </span>They were mostly meat; slower, weaker, and less experienced.<span> </span>But the Borg, that’s different.<span> </span>He hadn’t anticipated them hiring one.<span> </span>‘They must really want me dead.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He falls at the next landing, coughing more blood onto the floor.<span> </span>‘Can’t stop.<span> </span>Don’t know if I lost ‘em.’<span> </span>He looks behind him down the stairs, then gets up to continue the climb to the top.<span> </span>‘Only one more level.<span> </span>I should be O.K. then.’<span> </span>He puts his hand on his favorite slugthrower for reassurance, and glances at his shredded armor coat.<span> </span>‘I better be.<span> </span>That Borg hits me one more time with that bolter of his, I could be history.’<span> </span>He clutches his wounded leg at the top of the stairs, still in great pain.<span> </span>He opens the door and walks out onto the roof.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Hi.<span> </span>Been waiting,” the Borg says in his synthetic voice, as he throws a devastating punch.<span> </span>“Those are your ribs that just broke.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>He blocks the Borg’s next punch with his cyberarm, but the Borg grabs his flesh hand, breaking three fingers.<span> </span>The Borg throws him like a doll into a giant air filter exhaust tube.<span> </span>He manages to dodge the Borg’s first bolter shot, but the second hits his cyberarm, scorching the whole arm.<span> </span>‘Shit. There goes my ace in the hole,’ his one-shot E.M. Pulse, to disable the Borg.<span> </span>He draws and fires his old 700 pistol, but his bullets merely dent and bounce off the advancing Borg.<span> </span>His last bullet breaks the Borg’s single eye as it closes in on him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I don’t see with my eye,” the Borg says as it kicks his shin, breaking his leg.<span> </span>The Borg picks him up and throws him near the edge.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Jump!” the bald man radios his partner.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Jump!<span> </span>Now!” the bald man radios, and he rolls off the edge.<span> </span>Seconds later, two missiles impact the Borg, destroying the rooftop along with it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>‘Here we go again,’ he thinks, as he holsters his gun on the long fall to the ground far, far below.</div>Seraph2011http://www.blogger.com/profile/03643709313048942060noreply@blogger.com0