Heck Job: Contact

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Zixinus	Heck Job: Contact		Lead	[-]
Pooduckian 24-Dec-08 03:54:38	So, here be my first story. This is one specifically meant internet publication, being free to read and fun to write. This is the first part of the story, called "Contact", that will be made in a succession of parts Be warned that I'm starting out this slowly, as I think that a fast-paced introduction is confusing. This post is here as an introduction, warnings and to provide an index. Warnings: - swearing. - adult themes. - descriptions of gore and violence. Part 1: Shadows and Men Part 2: Invitation Part 3: Dawn Critiques are welcome. Last Edited By: Zixinus 17-Jan-09 23:28:51. Edited 6 times.
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Pooduckian 24-Dec-08 04:05:45	Heck job: Contact Part 1: Shadows and men Author's note: Don't be fooled by the long page. Most of the story is dialog. An old key opened an even older padlock in an run-down shore-side storage. There was much rustling and fiddling, followed by a low pangsound of metal snapping. There was a few seconds of silence as the owner of the key went out and threw the padlock into a place befitting its state of broken piece of shit. The door sprang open and revealed the silhouette of a man that held a large bag swung across his shoulder. The figure had Hispanic features, was middle-aged and was in good shape with signs of tropic life. He wore a leather jacket, jeans and large-brimmed sunglasses. With a casual move, he flipped his hand over the light switch. Nothing happened. He flipped it again to no effect. And again, yet there was no change. Murpy is cruel. - Oh, for fuck's sake. - mumbled the man as he tried to enter the room. As he stepped in, he put his sunglasses into his jacket pocket and dug out a blackened lighter. As the flame appeared, it illuminated a tanned, weary but confident face. His blue eyes gave a cool gaze as he began using his lighter to navigate his way among the many items on the shelves until he found what he was looking for. A petroleum safety lamp, completely empty and with three small wooden sticks attached to it so it could be lit. Next to it, a carefully closed and convenient bottle of petroleum. The man grabbed both, taking care of keeping the lighter away from the petroleum and took them to the doorway where he quickly began to work. When he was done and turned, a faint light of a flame illuminated the room. It was a decently-sized, windowless storage room, the walls white and the floor bare cement stone, with a grated panel to the outside for air. The room contained a board full of pictures above an old-fashioned desk with drawers, a military-style bunk-bed, a folded camping chair with a cooling box that faced an old TV set with a VHS player and rows of shelves filled with books, magazines, tools and cardboard boxes with other knickknacks. There was also a large, metal weapons locker on the far end of fthe room, guarded by not one but several padlocks of various types along with its own in-built lock. The lantern was strategically placed so that it would light the whole room, the dust on its glass making dancing shadows on the wall as the flame flickered. The man dropped his bag next to the bed and closed the door, using a heavy steel bar instead of a lock, leaving the lantern as the only source of light. He took it up once again, and first went to the metal locker. It was the kind that you would associate weapons with, namely firearms. It even had that peculiar shade of green that was almost international colour code for them by some unspoken cosmic law. The man checked the locks for tempering and walked away satisfied. He went on to his next chore, for what he casually grabbed a ladder. He unfolded it above the room's fusebox, which he carefully examined. Then he looked at the ceiling. - So, how many marines does it take to screw a light bulb? He once again searched the shelves for a small box with the subject of his necessity, grabbed it, then looked at his unfolded ladder then at the fact that both of his hands were occupied. - Apparently, an entire goddamn squad. So, put lantern and box on table (which was actually a large wooden box), fold ladder, carry it then unfold, take lantern to unscrew old bulb, lantern on table to unpack new bulb, taking it and lantern up the ladder, careful not to fall off the rickety piece of shit and then screw the fucker in. As he descended, he flicked the light switch with triumph. To no effect. - Mother. Fucker. - swore the man to himself. With that, the man decided to damn it all and just go to bed. He dusted off the bunk-bed, removed his boots and leather jacket that he hung on the chair, turned the lantern off and went to sleep within minutes. He dreamed. Dreams of gunfire, hot tropic weather, blood and walking nightmares. Visions of his comrades getting killed by frantic gunfire, a knife from a madman, sudden blasts of fire and... things that should have not existed yet they did. The sound of bullets ripping trough flesh, blood spattering, the gurgling and whimpering of the dying, flames roaring, the crying of the helpless and howling of the kind that he never heard before. The smell was unspeakable. The dead and dying, both armed and unarmed, young and old, was a bad sight even for the seasoned. But the visions of what he saw spoke of something more deeply horrible. Men and women, biting necks with their raw teeth, dogs as big as horses, the figures of creatures with unimaginable shapes dancing in the firelight, the earth shaking and trembling as if it was a full-scale war... It was hell. Then there was the cold. The freezing, sobering water that bitten deep into your very flesh and reminded you that you are alone. Hours and hours of it, out of sweat and sanity, just pushed by the drive to survive with the fresh images of a hellish inferno behind you, until salvation came by a hand that was far warmer than it ought to have been. In complete darkness, the man woken up feeling cold in the warm Miami night. There, he just lay, with the impressions of a chilling, lonely hell, next to one that blazed in hot agony caused by its demonic denizens. The worst, was that it was no nightmare. Not one bit of it. They were memories, fresh memories. Memories like no other. A playful, hard knocking interrupted the line of thought. - Roberto? Rob? It's me, Lu! I know you're there, I can hear you brooding! Open up! - came the sweet voice of a woman trough the metal door. Her voice held a Californian accent with a slightest hint of Chinese, with a pitch that suggested that she was entering the golden years of her life. The man, whom must have been the one called Roberto, laughed in surprise. - Hold on a minute. - said Roberto, digging for his lighter once again to light the lantern. - Are you doing what I think you are doing? - shouted the woman named Lu. - And what would that be? - Welcoming me with a 45 calibre, that's what! - Only if you brought tacos. Otherwise, you're safe. - to Roberto's joke, there was an amused grunt. - I thought so you would have enough of them in Mexico. There was a the sound of sliding of metal as a steel bar guarding the door was removed and way slowly opened. In the light, a fifty-something, Asian woman appeared with well-kept, dark, long hair, in pleasant light-yellow suit and knee-high skirt that one can see commonly among business circles. She held a paper bag behind her back and had a warm smile. There was a few moments where the door was held only partly open as Roberto let his eyes to adjust and scanned his visitor before opening the door fully. She stepped in awkwardly, her gaze meticulously analysing the room. To those that didn't know her, the gaze might have registered as amazement but it was actually keen, precise observation. - You bar your door? - she said, surprised. - Best lock in the world. Cheapest too. - The lantern? There was a few thoughtful seconds until Roberto answered again: - Atmospheric lightning. It gives a retro look to my post-modern sanctuary of solitude. After a moment of silence that allowed that to sink in, the burst of hearty laugher came from both as they hugged, in the style common among long-time friends. - Come on, sit down. - said Roberto as he dusted off the camping chair and politely placed it so that Lu could sit. Then he closed the door without baring it. When he got back and placed the lantern, Lu handed him the paper bag which was warm. - Let me guess. - said Roberto without unfolding his present. - You save me from Mexican fast food so I can have American fast food? - before Lu could answer, Roberto opened it to find that it contained burgers, french fries, a big doughnut and a soda, like from almost any fast food chain in the country. But the paper marked a local chain, one that happened to be Roberto's favourite. - Welcome back to America. - smiled Lu as she slumped into the chair. The choice of meal may seem rude or even insulting to those that didn't know Lu, but Roberto knew that it was a pretty honest if eccentric sign of affection from her. Besides, he was hungry and he grew to a life where you didn't say no to a free, decent meal. - Thanks. So, what brings you about these parts? - I heard that you were discharged and I got back home from the field early. It was my day off and you were on-route, so I thought I'd visit you to see how you were doing. How long have you been here? - I just got here from Washington a couple hours ago. - said Roberto between swallowing his food and taking a sip. - I kept this place in case I needed somewhere to stay. Keep lots of stuff I've collected over the years here too. - Like your collection of Batman comics? - asked Lu, referring to a cardboard box full of dusty covers, behind her by two shelves. She likely only had a glance of the whole place. Roberto was stunned for several seconds, in the mid-motion of biting a burger. - Holy shit, you haven't lost not one bit of it, didn't you? - I'm one of the best. You should know. - she smiled as she took the question as a compliment. - Besides, I always saw you reading those when you were bored. Figured you had to keep them somewhere, so I just... - she shrugged - took a shot in the dark. - Now you're making puns. - he waged a finger. - Sorry. As Roberto reached to begin his fries, he found a small packet at the bottom of the bag, thickly wrapped. - What's this? - he asked, anxiously. - Open it - she said with a grin as wide enough to put on a toothbrush commercial. Roberto put aside his food, he unwrapped the package to find a pink-coloured, long, cylinder object ending with a smooth tip on one end and with a black shaft that had "off, on, turbo" settings on the other. Along with that were two batteries and a one-page manual with the headline "for those long, lonely nights". Roberto held the shiny object with unease. - You're never going to let me live that down, are you? - Never. - she said it with an edge so sharp that if it were a knife, it would be featured on late-night infomercials. Roberto only sighed as an answer while he placed the object away and resumed his meal. - I know what you are thinking. "Lu, it was over five years ago, why don't you just forget it and move on?" or "Lu, come on, I apologised, what more do you want?" or "For fuck's sake, we've been over this.". Well, no. I still hear a few jokes behind my back in the agency because of it. So, consider this just sharing the pain. Roberto, his mouth full, shrugged as ate his meal happily. - So, what do you plan to do now with your new-found freedom of unemployment? - Donnu. - said Roberto after swallowing. - I guess I'll do like most other ex-special forces guys and either start or join a private security company. - Watching your VIP's dog taking a piss? - Eh, I've had enough bullets fired at me for that to sound like heaven. - It just sounds so... low for someone as talented as you. I still heard people telling stories about that ordeal back in Nigeria. - Please don't bring that up. I can still smell the elephant shit. - So did everyone and everything else when you blew it up. - Yeah. Brilliant tactic on my part. Blow shit up. - Roberto's face was serious, but as Lu began laughing, he smiled too. - No one would have thought of that. Really, Rob, you were pretty useful and you are still in the prime of your life. Are you sure you want to waste it on guarding some fat, spoiled prima donna walking her ten thousand dollar critter that can be best described as a crime against nature? - Well, now that you mention it, there was always one path that I always wanted to take if I fail as a marine. - Oh. What would that be? - A cop. - there was a bit of silence as Roberto finished that statement. He had time to munch the last of his burger and proceeded to the remaining french fries. - Really? A cop? I'm surprised. Why a cop? - asked Lu with genuine interest. - Well, partly because of all those crappy cop shows I watched as a kid. But I guess watching my neighbourhood going crazy also factored in into that. But I'm not sure, I am sick of paperwork as it is. You would think that something that's top secret would involve less red tape. - And there wouldn't be any with a private security company? - Likely. But the pay would be better, I guess. I'm sure I'll find something that'll suit me. - You know, I do have some friends that owe me a few favours. I can put in a good word for you if you want a government contract. - Thanks Lu, but I first want to see how well do I do on my own first. - Are you sure? You really feel that you don't need help? Because this... - she waved her arms around - is pretty atmospheric but not exactly encouraging for your future prospects. - I reserved this place in case of emergencies. I have enough savings that I'm sure I can find a proper apartment. Trust me, I don't want to live here, this place is cold and doesn't have a bathroom. I'll find a job and get a good place sooner or later. - Okay, if you say so. But remember, you still have my number if case you need help. It's not like you have a lot of other people to turn to. - Don't worry about me Lu. I'm an ex-marine and stayed afloat in worse places than Miami. I'll be fine. Silence followed as the lantern's flame danced. Roberto finished the rest of his food. He looked rather pleased. - Roberto? - Lu's tone of voice changed rather suddenly. It was far less cheerful and there was an edge of worry to it. - Yes? - Roberto didn't hear the difference. - I have to ask. What happened in Mexico? - she asked with a much lower, softer voice than what she used before. - Depends. - Roberto's voice cooled down, becoming chilly and distant as he crossed his arms. - On what? - Is this is Dr. Chang trying confirm a diagnosis or Officer Chang wanting to confirm her intel or is this Luey asking? - Roberto raised his voice, giving it a demanding tone. - I'm asking. - answered Lu unrelentingly yet softly. - I was afraid you'd say that. - Roberto sighed as the suppressed memories of the two hells flooded him again. - I donnu, Lu. I don't know what happened. One moment we were sitting comfortably, guarding the safehouse and preparing for dinner, then all hell broke lose. - Roberto's tone became darker, as flashes of his nightmares revisited him. - Go on. - I'll be short. You know the agency had a safehouse there? Important place, almost a base for the rest of the Mexican region. Well, in that town it was in, all hell broke lose. Gangs started shooting at each other and everyone else started shooting at everyone else because they didn't want to get shot. You know it goes. In this case it just went from everyday life to complete chaos under a matter of a few hours, and let me tell you Lu, it got bad. Very bad... - Roberto shook his head. - It must have been horrible. - said Lu with palpable sympathy. - Let me tell you Lu, I haven't seen warzones this bad. Bodies littered the street within an hour. I have seen shit hit the fan, you know that, but this was the mother of all clusterfucks. We originally wanted to barricade in but then a fucking rocket hit the neightboring house. - A rocket? - she said it with the voice as if she didn't knew what it was. Roberto didn't notice it, but Lu was slightly surprised. - Or granade, I donnu, I didn't see it myself. All I know is that someone saw a fireball enter it and then it blew up to high heaven. That's when we decided to make a run for it. We took what we could and burned what we couldn't. Anyway, we decided to head for the docks, to take a boat to get back to the states or at least somewhere safer. That's when our path was blocked by another rocket fired towards us. I don't know how, why or by whom. The only guy I saw was standing on a roof, holding a wooden stick. Since the street was practically blocked and so narrow that we couldn't turn around, we split up and all of us headed to the docks where we would regroup. - A guy standing on a roof? - Yeah. It was strange... he was staring right at and didn't move a muscle. You would think that watching something like that would make you go underground. - Why didn't you kill him? He could have been a spotter. - the question was raised with the unemotional pragmatism that could only be found among military personal. It was not malevolence or hatred, just training and tactical thinking. - We didn't think he was the guy responsible. If he were against us, he would have completed the job or shot one of the cars. But he didn't. He didn't do anything when we looked at him. He just... stared at us. Then again, I didn't have time to watch... We just grabbed our stuff and started moving trough the streets. - That's all there was to the man? Don't you find it peculiar that he was standing on a roof in the middle of a warzone? - asked Lu sceptically. - I didn't dwell on it. Wasn't the situation to do that. - Roberto tried to forget the gaze of that man, if he was a man at all. He only had one look at him, but it was a good look. Roberto noted that the man dressed in a red robe that was completely unlike what the locals wore and that he held a staff that's tip was... glowing. Roberto tried to argue with himself that it was just a nutcase looking at the chaos but that just wasn't convincing. But he didn't dwell on it either way. - But to be honest, I think he was just one of the many drug-ridden maniacs the town had. - Drug-ridden maniacs? - said Lu, more sceptically than before. - We occasionally met them. People shouting, vandalising and looting everything. As if the entire population gone crazy, the kind of crazy only drugs can do. I don't know how they got them and I don't know why they started using them then. I just met a few of them, charging at us with whatever was at hand despite warnings.- Roberto did not mention that not all of them were local. Some of them were foreigners that Roberto didn't see anywhere else before. But he didn't find that fact important either, because he didn't pay particular attention to the population. It wasn't his job. But he did know that there was something wrong with his own account, but he didn't mention that because he didn't know what exactly it was. - Then what happened? - We ran, fought and sneaked our way towards the docks. We got picked off, one by one at every step of the way. - the tone of Roberto's voice became even more darker, even hinting a bit of pain. - A bullet caught Johnsy here and a fragment or building part took Nick there. Sometimes we just made a recount and found that someone was missing. By the time we got near the docks, there were only four of my group left. - That's where you escaped? - No. The docks were in complete chaos too. Every ship was either already out or burning, if not sinking. There were allot of the addicts there causing havoc, so we couldn't wait to regroup. We got into a dead end and the only other way out was trough the other end of the city. Towards the heart of the fighting... - Roberto voice trailed off as several particularly nonsensical and hellish images swarmed his mind. - Let me guess. The rest of your group died there? - Yes. I only managed to survive by diving into the freezing sea from ten feet and swimming for hours until a cargo ship took me up. The crew was watching as the chaos flared up and died down, that's why they saw me. - But why didn't we hear from you for days? - The phones were dead. All of them, even on the ship. The cells, the line and even the secure phones in the safehouse. When we tried radio, there was just white noise. I know its absurd, but that's what happened. The agency picked me up when I approached the first agent I found. The rest is just... office politics where I ended up fired. - So you think you're a scapegoat? - In a way, I guess. Scapegoats are there for people to stop blaming each other and focus on the problem. But you know that's not why they fired me. - Rob, what did you see in the city? - she asked again, still softly but with a hint of demand. - Blood. Bodies. Murderers. Victims. Fire. Ruind. The usual chaos of a warzone. - the sentence was cold enough to freeze water. - I mean, when you went towards the centre of the conflict. The two factions fighting eachother. Do you have any idea who they were? - You read the reports, didn't you? - retorted sharply Roberto. The flames danced on the faces of both silent occupants of the room for several minutes. - Is this why you're here? - Roberto asked the question quietly and coldly. - No. This isn't business. - Lu's asked with a normal volume and confident tone. - Then what is it? - I don't know, maybe... concern? Visiting a friend who you heard that he has gone mad? - there was no hurt in Lu's voice, just a hint of sarcasm. - You think I'm mad? - Roberto laughed. - That's exactly what worries me. - Lu, you're a psychologist and a spy, can't you tell whether I'm going off my rocker? Lu took a few seconds to consider her answer. - That depends on what you mean by mad. I don't see any particular symptom of mental illness on you, not even post-traumatic stress disorder. - So, you disagree with the shrinks with the agency? - I'm not sure. I think you were exaggerating in the reports a bit, but recon of the town after the smoke cleared was pretty awful. Yet I still think that what you wrote was just too... incredible. - You think I'm lying? - No. You don't have to lie in order to say something that's not true. I think that under fire you might have seen details that weren't there. I'm not saying that you're retarded or stupid, nothing like that. Under very high stress and in a very disturbing and chaotic environment, people can see things that aren't there or see things that are there in a worse way. It has nothing to do with deficiency, its just how people work and you are, after all, only human. - Lu was apologetic in her tone, but sure. Robert didn't answer, just smiled, amused. Some may be insulted by suggestions that Lu made, but Roberto didn't take these kind of things too personally. He has accepted the facts of his own mortality and limitations. - So what if I was completely correct? - he asked with forced cheerfulness. - Far more frightening than if you just gone nuts. - Why? - Roberto, the gangs where you were didn't stockpile weapons there, especially not rocket-luanchers of any kind. There were no particularly large drug rings in that area. The gangs there were at peace with each other. We choose that area for that safehouse precisely because it was safe. The only way something like what you talk about would happen if someone outside done it, which not only doesn't make sense but also suggests a conspiracy of some kind. - there was no implication to her voice, just sheer explanation. - May they all be damned to hell. - cursed Roberto while a returning casual tone, although it took him a little effort to ignore what Lu just said. - I'm glad that it isn't my problem anymore and I hope it won't be yours either. The last thing I need is to be involved some nutty world-wide conspiracy theory that a few bored agenda-driven paper pushers thought up. Lu chuckled. - Yeah, men in black with wide-brimmed fedoras. They have a secret base under a kindergarten, did you know that? - her voice was so sarcastic it might have been mistaken for genuine awe. - Oh, right, they carefully choose all their members to guarantee dedication, that's why we never heard of them. In a world-wide organization, that's how they prevent leaks. Because evaluation will always be drop-dead perfect, with no possibility of error. They approach you in the middle on the night, announcing that you are chosen to be one of them, ignoring any and all security systems just for sheer demonstration. - They would then make you pass trough a series of trials to prove your worthiness to everyone else. - the joke was drying up quickly, but Lu went on with it regardless. - Oh, oh, they would call themselves the Elder Council! - Yeah and would depend on the federal postal service for communication. - - I give up. Shorthand, I can't pull any bigger bullshit than that. Lu chuckled, Rob smiled again, both amused. - What's sad that I've read worse in official files. - That's paper pushers for you. Paperwork numbs your mind. - Speaking of mind numbing, do you have anything to drink? - I'd have offered you a beer by now but I just arrived here. Next time you're around, a drink is on me, okay? -the invitation was passed on casually while Roberto began wrapping up his fast-food trash. - Sure. - Lu smiled too, glad to see her friend is all right. She checked her watch. - It looks like I have to go soon. I've only dropped by to see how you are doing. - she stood up, but hesitated. - Look, can you do me a favour? - What kind? - Go to the shrink, okay? Trust me, it will do you good. - You think so? - Roberto's voice wasn't sceptical, merely lazy. - Rob, you just saw people that you knew die. That's a very horrifying experience. You're one of the most strongest psyche I ever met, but even you can only withstand so much. So, please, go the shrink. It'll help. Roberto gave several seconds of thought to the matter. He remembered his recent dreams when he made his decision. - Okay, I'll go. - Thanks. I have to go, early riser an' all. - Planning something? - Not really. Just visiting some relatives. Roberto escorted Lu out, exchanging a few words and farewells. Once Lu was away from waving distance, Roberto closed and bared his door. In the lamplight, which Roberto noted in need of some more kerosene, he began setting his watch for six o' clock alarm but then decided against it. He was no longer in service and could sleep as much as he pleased, a right he wanted to exercise. He once again went and lay down on his bunk, putting out the light. He wanted to sleep, but just rested there instead. Perhaps because of the bad dreams or simply because of his full stomach. So, he made use of his free time by pondering what to do. First in line, would be getting some breakfast and the newspaper, looking at the classifieds. Roberto considered his position. Almost any security company would want an ex-marine but Roberto decided then and there that he will not do work on foreign ground anymore. He had enough of that. He also decided to look into about getting into police work, on the level of curiosity at least. Perhaps follow up some of the leads and make an appointment with the psychotherapist while at it. Then begin apartment hunting. Real estate was a nightmare to follow trough, in almost any country. The question of keeping in shape came up in his mind. Looking up a gym was granted but Roberto pondered whether he should look up a shooting range as well. Marksmen skills had to be kept fresh but there was the question of need. The gun cabinet crossed his mind, considering to either hide at least some of the weapons someplace else, just get rid of them or keep them anyway. He had a Class 3 license and most of them were registered to him. There was the fact that he will be watched for a while, by agency standards, so it would be a good idea to be careful. But of course, he couldn't help but think of the beaches. Live long enough as a soldier and beaches become synonymous with amphibious warfare, especially for a marine, but Roberto found himself willing to re-educate himself. The idea of bikini-clad women was also a pleasant one. Roberto's thoughts drifted back and forth for a while, perhaps for hours until a light, aware sleep came over him. He didn't dream, his mind just pleasantly numb. - Roberto Garcia, you have been chosen. - the voice was calm in volume and composed in tonality yet woken up the sleeping Roberto like a gunshot. He quickly grabbed for his lighter, to reveal the man that faced him. There he was, in pitch-black zoot suit that was last in fashion back in the 1950's. The man was of medium high and build, his skin pale, his eyes as dark as the room behind him and wore a black fedora with a wide brim. He stood there, his posture suggesting both a little salute and a little alertness. His gaze was intent and unwavering. Roberto glanced at his door. The bar was still there, untouched. There was no way to move that thing from the outside. There was no way for the man to enter the room in any other way, the air duct too small for pigeons never mind a human being. There was no way he could have sneaked in, least of all hide. There was abso-fucking-lutely no way for him to enter the room without Roberto's notice or help. Roberto briefly held his hand above the flame of the lighter. It burned, making his hand withdraw on reflex. The man was still there, as solid as anything else. There was a certain smudgy quality to him, as if one could not quite make out the edges of his figure, but he was there non the less. It was impossible, yet there it was, right in front of him. - Oh, for fuck's sake. - said Roberto with the frustration of knowing that nothing is going to be quite the same anymore. Technical notes: Number of words: 5434 Number of paragraphs: 194 Number of characters: 29649
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LadyRhaevyn		#2	[url]	[-]
Ne'er Do Naughtay 24-Dec-08 10:37:53 Grammar Gestapo	Hmm I think if it's R rated or above it goes in adults section? I could be wrong, may wanna ask Beth and Temp just in case. "English doesn't just borrow words from other languages. It follows them down dark alleys, hits them over the head with old beer bottles, and rummages through their pockets for loose grammar." - Unknown
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Zixinus		#3	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 24-Dec-08 21:21:50	It isn't necessarily adult. Yeah, I thrown in a joke about a dildo, but I'm not aiming for high adult content. That is, there will be no sex in it but it will be mentioned and discussed occasionally. As for violence and gore, well, I'm not aiming for highly detailed descriptions about how someone is tortured, raped and disfigured or anything like that, but combat will be appropriately detailed and likely to be be brutal. EDIT: Essentially, the above story serves as a good indicator about how much "adult content" to expect. Last Edited By: Zixinus 25-Dec-08 07:09:02. Edited 1 time.
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Tempestmir		#4	[url]	[-]
27-Dec-08 05:47:03 Sandwich Vendor	This is interesting, it is. I'm iffy on whether to move it, so I won't for now. If the next bits change my mind, so be it. Regardless, I'm looking forward to reading more. It is by the goodness of God that in our country we have those three unspeakably precious things: freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, and the prudence never to practice either of them. Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)
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Zixinus	Invitation	#5	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 11-Jan-09 01:01:40	Heck Job: Contact Part two: Invitation - So, care to tell me who you are, what do you want and how the fuck did you get in here? - said the rather anxious Roberto, who wished that he still kept his 45 calibre Colt at hand in bed. He didn't know what was going on, how the stranger was able to enter his impromptu-apartment (that was really a storage room) or what will happen next. The man in the black suit did not answer. Roberto waited, alertly watching for any move or response. His brain began to switch to tactical mode, pondering on what is happening and what could this stranger want while scanning him for anything that he could make sense of. That's when Roberto burned his finger from holding the lighter out for too long. All light disappeared, leaving Roberto alone in the dark with the stranger. On some level, he knew that if the stranger's intentions were hostile, he would have acted on them already. He also knew that there wouldn't be any reason for the man to hurt him or do anything with him, especially with the agency watching him. Roberto saw no bulk suggesting a weapon in the man's figure, so it was even more likely the man came in peace. But it was still scary as hell to be in a dark room with someone that apparently defiled the law of physics. By the same instinct that made proto-humans grab their spear when they heard a new noise in the night, Roberto prepared for the worst as he held up his arms to block whatever blow may come. Instead only the noise of a matchstick being struck and ignited was heard, the glow of its flame oddly illuminating the stranger's face, the darker outlines of his shape apparently fading into the room. Roberto withdrew his defence in surprise. His mind made the calculation of how long would it take for him to reach his weapons locker, unlock it, take out and load any member of its contents. It was done automatically, without any sort of conscious effort, with lightning fast precision that training and paranoia gives. It was dismissed just as fast, both from understanding the result and because common sense emerged in him. - I am here to offer you an invitation Mr. Garcia. - said the stranger is a dignified yet not at all uppity New England accent, while reaching slowly for the lamp on the floor. The man began to transfer the flame from his matchstick to one that was stuck to the lamp, taking enormous care. He then picked up the lamp with far more caution than what the petroleum in it would warrant. - That answers only one question, even that not very well. - Roberto's subsequent voice was cool, his tone just showing slight disappointment, much to his own surprise. The man ignored him for a moment as he lit the lamp with caution that was almost ridiculous. He only faced Roberto after he placed it with the kind of motions that one handles volatile explosives. There was still that murky quality to him, his unlit side seemed to merge with the shadows. - I'm apologise for my manners, they have been in disuse lately. My name is Burke, George Eriksson Burke. I shall clarify my reason for being here in a moment. As for how I arrived here, suffice to say that I have a few tricks that I'm afraid are a trade secret on my part. - I see. - Roberto's experiences with the CIA resurfaced. He wasn't trained in interrogation, but he knew that he needed to look for and collect any tidbits that he can pick up. If there are a few pieces missing, then you had to fish. - This is about what happened in Mexico, isn't it Mr. Burke? - It wasn't any conscious effort that made Roberto add the "mister" address. In fact, he didn't notice that he did. Burke on the other hand seemed to notice immediately, along with Roberto's calm tone. His stance apparently relaxed because of it. - No, Mr. Garcia. This is about you. Or would it be Sergeant Major Garcia? - he asked with a slight hint of flattery. - Mister is fine. Please, go on. - Roberto took the hint and didn't think much of it. His polite, calm tone might could have been misinterpreted that he was flattered, but actually he was very alert. Roberto doesn't shout when he is frightened, he gets quieter. - As I began to explain Mr. Garcia, I am here to offer you an invitation to the Trials of the Sentinel, allowing the title to be given upon you. - he waited for a moment to let the words sink in. - According to ceremony, I ought to recite the tenants of the Trials. But I presume you have questions? - Yes. Plenty. Please start by telling me what is a Sentinel. - Very well. A Sentinel is an enforcer of the laws passed by the governing body known as the Elder Council and protector of all those that abide by it. - Burke said the words without any irony or mockery yet Roberto cocked an eyebrow. - Yes, I overheard your conversation with Officer Chang but I assure you that the namesake is accidental. The name I given is merely a popular one, not the official one by any extent. I don't have to pronunciation skills necessary to give you the authority's formal name, or at least the one I fully know. It's in Latin and quite long. - Alright. - the conversation is a bit overwhelming for Roberto. Being woken up just minutes ago by a man that apparently walked trough walls can do that. - Who is this Elder Council and why am I offered to be one of their "enforcers"? - Roberto's voice was sceptical and implicative. He didn't like the word "enforcer". For him, it was too often associated with the word "thug". Paranoia ,that was not really paranoia all things considering, coloured Burke's proposal in rather negative light. That light was made by years of working for an intelligence gathering agency, a field of work that is partly defined by manipulation and misdirection. Burke didn't immediately answer when he noticed the change of voice. For the first time since he was there, he looked away. He stared at the wall for several seconds, his flexed forehead deep in thought. When he turned, his face was as unreadable as before. - I'm afraid I have began this on the wrong foot, Mr. Garcia. Please, allow me to begin this again. - Okay. - an idea flashed in his mind. - Please, sit down. - just because your guest is unexpected, doesn't mean that you can be a bad host. Besides, sitting people have a harder time attacking you. - Thank you. - Burke seated himself rather comfortably, taking his hat off to reveal a thick layer of long, silver hair. Burke didn't look that old, he looked more like early forty. At a sudden thought, he slowly reached within the insides of his suit, taking out an old, glass flask that he offered to Roberto. - Whiskey, Mr. Garcia? - Gladly. - Roberto took the bottle, noticing that it was closed with a traditional cork and was surprisingly cold. He normally didn't drink when there was something going on, but the present situation was an exception. Upon smelling it, Roberto noticed that it was a rare and delicious brand. He immediately took a small sip, the liquid blazing itself into his system with a spectrum of aroma and doing wonders for his startled nerves. After taking a breath and another quick swing, he handed the flask back but Burke gestured for Roberto to keep it for the moment. - Do you believe in magic Mr. Garcia? - Burke's tone was surprisingly casual, as if he just had a sudden thought. - After what happened in Mexico, I don't know what to believe. - What would you think, that if I told you that there is a whole world of magic beneath the world that you know? - I would think that is a pretty incredible thing to say, Mr. Burke. - What do you mean? After all, the fact that I breached your simple yet highly effective defences is something to not ignore. - It's one thing to believe that you can apparently walk trough walls Mr. Burke or however you got in here. That's easy to believe because, well, you're here. It's another thing to believe that there is a secret world of magic out there, completely hidden and inaccessible to the entire population. A world that is also invisible not only to civilians but to government and the many people that travel the world just to look at things. Especially nowadays, where every snotty kid has a cell phone and an Internet connection. - But many things based on these are dismissed, no? Also, such tools are not available everywhere at the same rate as they are here. - there was something odd about the word "tools". Roberto never heard someone referring to cellphones as "tools" in a casual context. Those things were everywhere, sweeping the globe like a damn plaque yet Burke was talking about them as if they were outside of his world. - I've been in Africa for a few years. I've once met a guy who didn't have indoor plumbing but had several computers and even a Internet connection using tapped phonelines. - Surely an exceptional case. - Burke was slightly astonished. - Look, if some nerd in the middle of a shithole of a country can surf for porn, than you can do it almost anywhere else. This was also years ago, who knows what you can do now. - I concede your point, Mr. Garcia and it quite worthy of discussion. But we digress. I assure you, that there is a world of magic hidden beneath yours. Not necessarily a better world, but one with its own beauties and horrors, filled with both things and beings that can be viewed as both wondrous and terrifying. Such things have to be hidden for safety, both for their own and for the safety of others. - This is where the Elder Council comes in? - Yes. The Elder Council is the ruling body of this hidden world. - What, all of it? - Yes Mr. Garcia. It is the highest level of authority there is. - he let the words sink into silence but then quickly added: - It has no competition or rival, except perhaps for some silent and stative god. It is not the only ruling government, but it is the largest and most significant. - Worldwide? - Roberto was more amazed than sceptical. You can't get people to use the same measurement system worldwide, never mind anything resembling a government rule. Burke only nodded as an answer. - So, these Sentinels... - Are those that enforce the laws enacted by the Elder Council, as well as to hide and protect the existence of the secret world. - They're the Council's army? - Not quite. It's loosely structured, working in appropriately scaled layers of hierarchy, each independent. The local levels are more like an independent police force than an army, in fact the duties of a Sentinel resemble the former more than the latter. It has been centuries since the last time the Elder Council marched to war, way before my time. The last time it did, it ensured order and arguably with it, peace and prosperity. Yet smaller conflicts and skirmishes erupt when we fail, like the one that you bore witness a few days ago. Roberto couldn't help but feel a shiver all the way to his spine. His opinion of the "Elder Council" and their "Sentinels" changed, thinking of them as people that stem the tide rather than one to make it. This was because he noticed how Burke uses his words, calling the nightmare that Roberto lived trough a failure rather than an incident. That implied responsibility, something that oppressive governments don't usually have and Roberto seen a few of those. People that work and live for oppressive government don't like admitting its faults and things like civil war, plaques, uprisings and riots are called incidents, isolated cases, things to sweep under the rug and forget about. Casually admitting failure was a good sign. - Why do you want me in this world? Why should I join these Sentinels? - You are looking for work, are you not? It was the kind of self-evident answer that you couldn't wave a stick at, running several loops in your head before you could do anything with it. This was no different, making Roberto speechless. Burke apparently took it as Roberto asked him to go on. - I believe that you are worthy to become a member of such an organization. You considered becoming a police officer, a Sentinel is not that different. This is a unique opportunity for you, Mr. Garcia, one that many can only dream of. Please, consider it. Roberto did. Have you heard of someone meeting the right person, at the right time took a chance and did the right thing to hit it high? As in, doing something that's interesting, that's good and getting damn rich while at it? Surfing the high wave before it becomes a high wave, so you surf your carrier like some sort of god? You commonly hear about that sort of thing in fashion, or acting or some other artsy or semi-artsy industry. So everyone new to the industry is more willing to take radical chance, to get into that early high wave, even if it turns out to be a low tide. Being a gun for hire is like that too and Roberto was not any different. It wasn't that there was a lack of people like him, for his kind of experiences and skills. It was just that there was a lack of the kind of work he wanted to do, or rather wished to do. - What comes with the job? - asked Roberto after several seconds of silence. - The good or bad first? - The good first. - A title of the Sentinel is respected by all who know it. - Burke's voice had the quality that he was reciting written text and that it should be taken with a grain of salt, but not dripping in sarcasm in any way. - Weapons, armour, training and knowledge is provided freely if asked. Comradeship among all, who share their duty and cause. The protection of the Elder Council in cases of justice. Of course, those that serve their duties well are rewarded and taken care of when they can no longer are able. - Roberto noticed that there was a particular edge to the word "justice". It wasn't spoken cynically, not at all. It was spoken proudly, in a way Roberto rarely heard it. Few people believe in justice. Fairness, sure, but not justice. It was not worth commenting about either way. - That is, a decent paycheck and a pension? - Yes, to put it bluntly. The downsides are as following. Expect challenging tasks, with varying hours. Usually you are given proper ten hour shifts per day with breaks and two days off a week but this is not set in stone. There are periods where more hours are required, especially in a particularly difficult cases. No one but your direct family may know whom you work for. Healthcare is employer-provided only, at least in the USA due to conflicts with local insurance policies, among other reasons. The Sentinels duty is to be done till any who hold the title are able and is higher than any other. This means, to put it simply, is that you cannot quit and that you cannot be fired. You are expected to do your duty till the end of your life, or more accurately, until you are combat-worthy. For you, it would be a retirement like any other. - That's rather odd. - Roberto heard of societies that required you to be loyal for a lifetime, so it wasn't really that odd. After all, being a marine can be a life-time carrier as well. But not being able to get fired was strange, also a bit ominous. - This is not the kind of work you can apply with a résumé, Mr. Garcia. This is not a contract I'm offering. This is a cause. When the Sentinels were founded, it was a calling. - A calling to what? - Roberto had his opinion about "causes" and "callings". It was not a nice one. - To create order where there was little to none and maintain what there is. I won't bore you with the historical details, but allow me to give you a brief summary of its story. Back in the time when magic roamed free, long before our estimation of Jesus Christ's birth, it was open and accessible. It was available to all that were willing to learn it or pay someone who was. Most creatures of magic roamed unbound and open about their nature. These were very different times than what we now know. - And these times were like what? - Very anarchic, with the inherit chaotic nature of magic to boot. Fighting was constant as ignorance and pettiness was plentiful to fuel conflict between groups whom we now consider to be relatives. The lives of mortals, regular humans, were irreverent, despite the complete reliance on them by everyone. The creation of anything resembling a nation larger than what is now a small town's limits, was impossible. Kings were assassinated before they could establish any form of power, any court thrown into discord before it could solidify, any gathering of rulers disrupted for any number of reasons. All by magic. Magic cannot be countered, not even by other magic, making it a power that is... transparent. That made sense to Roberto. The reason why so many dictators were still alive, was that they surrounded themselves with loyal soldiers that by themselves were a rock-solid defence. Anybody wanting to kill a dictator, had to go trough them, people whose job solely consisted of protecting one man. People often believed the idea of that a single, incredibly-skilled assassin could penetrate any defence, but that was fantasy. Most people don't consider the fact that most assassins wanted to survive their victory and suicide-assassins, while deadly, were often a hit-or-miss issue that can be worked against just like anything else. People willing to sacrifice their life to end another's were crazy and crazy people often made mistakes. That, and most people underestimated the inherit protection of paranoia that dictators often have. There is no other better defence than alertness, than the expectation that someone wants to kill you and the determination to not give them that chance. If Burke could walk trough walls and overhear conversations trough a concrete wall, then there would be very few people that were safe from him. If there was another person like Burke, that meant that Burke wasn't safe. If there was someone that could do something that Burke couldn't, that could mean a capacity of other things. Any government could be thrown into chaos just by murdering the right people and if Burke's assessment was true, any stabilising power would be undermined with anybody else that had similar power. The result is a constant power struggle fuelled farther than it should have, allowing stability to come only when there was no one and nothing to cause any strife anymore. Roberto couldn't help but recall his experiences in Somalia, a state without any kind of government that suffered constant tribal warfare. His visit was brief, but Roberto could safely call it one of the most horrible places in the world. - Of course, factions possessing magic tried to rise above the chaos, some gaining results and even size but none archived any stability. The Elder Council was merely a small guild of magicians among many, exceptional only in its attitudes and philosophies that were quite enlightened for their time. Again, I won't bore you with the details of these, especially considering that they changed. Let it be enough, that many tried to tame the chaos. - Only the Elder Council succeeded? - guessed Roberto, who was considering taking another sip of the bottle that he nursed within his hands. He eventually decided against it, putting it away and focused on Burke. - No. In fact what was then the Elder Council was weak. Then, it only tried to survive rather than dominate anyone. The Elder Council was a guild trying to learn and understand what they could about magic, as well as hide what little power they had. They gradually rose in power by simple non-aggression and their capacity of not utilising what power they had, either hiding themselves or simply not being a treat. They witnessed as factions rose and faltered, understanding their greatness and their mistakes. They didn't learn to become more powerful. They learned to understand the chaos it was surrounded in. Of course, there were those that took what little power they had and tried to express it, but means were done and made to prevent that. - So what changed the situation? - Roberto asked, but he already had a good shot at the answer. - Everyone ran out of men and I mean regular humans. All magical beings, in one form or another, rely on humans. War with magic and they suffer greatly, far more greatly than otherwise, especially in times when it was difficult enough to live as is. Famine, plaques and worse became mundane tools as the battlefields escalated until there were too few or no humans at all left. Many atrocities and catastrophes done, both intentionally and unintentionally, to the same result. Most factions either gathered up just to survive or died out. It would be silly to say that humanity as a whole faced extinction, but in some areas of the world that is what apparently happened. It was mass destruction in a time when the most technologically advanced item developed was a mill, WLDs in a time when the most complicated weapon was a bow. Burke let those words sink in. It was clear that some of what he said was his own interpretation, but the tonality of his voice suggested that it was a fairly objective and accepted assessment. That was a frightening world that Burke talked about and Roberto could imagine it vividly, but didn't. It also took him a bit of time till he figured out what Burke meant under "WLD". - You mean WMD? As in "weapons of mass destruction"? - Yes. - said Burke apologetically. Roberto knew that it wasn't disturbing. That even regular people that watch the news sometimes get it mixed up. That Burke might have just mixed up a letter. But it was still slightly troubling to hear someone telling the story of their ancient counterparts to not use their proper name. - So what happened? - asked Roberto trying to move on. - It was then that the Elder Council stepped in, finding itself to be the most powerful among the weakened, devastated and desperate factions. These tried to adopt, some melded and others separated, some reformed and others radicalised. But what's important is that some tried to fight the emerging, new authority and failed, or joined it in one way or form. Thus did the guild changed, grew and developed but always with the guidance of lessons learned from the past. It became the Elder Council that is now an authority encompassing many small councils that have their own voice, like a true government. It solved the problem of magic by making it safe the only way it is possible: by hiding it. - Just like that? - No, of course not. It took over two thousand years of effort, along with many conflicts with the remaining factions. This is were the Sentinels come in. Back then, it was only trough the magicians of the Elder Council and their occasional creations that the Council's work was done but they were not enough. They were too few, too occupied by thousand other things, like managing what order they already made and could divide their attention only so much. There was also the constant fear that the catastrophes of the past would happen again. That is why the Sentinels were established. To quell the chaos, to smother the seeds of conflicts and watch over the order that is there, so the world would not descend into anarchy again. Do you understand now, Mr. Garcia? Roberto only nodded. He couldn't help but feel humbled and honoured at least a little bit, something that he didn't feel in a long time. He forgot how it felt. - You understand why it is an occupation requiring a life-time of commitment and loyalty? Again, Roberto only nodded, deep in thought, trying to process everything Burke said. - Do you have other questions Mr. Garcia? - Burke asked as if he just answered a simple question with a simple answer. Roberto wanted to ask many question but only managed one. - Yes. These trials. Where and what are they? - There are three trials. One of intelligence and perception. One of wisdom and honesty. One of courage, aptitude and skill. The trials of Vigilance, of Honour and Prowess respectively. Each will be given to you after you complete the other. - What are these tenants you mentioned? - First: you can renounce your invitation at any time you wish. Once you do, you do it as so forever, the opportunity given to you cancelled completely. Second: you cannot ask any member of the Elder Council for help in any form. I believe that will not be an issue for you. Third: you must also take and perform the trials personally, without the involvement of others in your cause. I must point out that you can ask for help as you would otherwise do in daily life, you just can't involve anyone with the trials, regardless whether they know or not know what they are involved in. Fourth: you cannot announce your invitation to anybody not under the Elder Council. In your case, anybody that's not in your direct family and this should help you with the fourth tenant. Officer Chang must evidently remain oblivious. Fifth: Your deadline is the midnight of the next full moon to complete your trials, which will appear in two weeks. That should be plenty of time, so don't be in a rush. Sixth and this is important: You may use any of your own means to complete the trials, as long as you are mindful of the law. - What do you mean under "mindful"? - Respect the law and avoid violating it unless absolutely necessary. We won't particularly care if you parked wrong or drove home after a few drinks, but we will not look upon threats or assaults kindly. If you are arrested and imprisoned, consider the opportunity given to you as cancelled. We do not accept criminals into our ranks, even if the criminals were never proven guilty or caught. Am I clear? - the complete lack of malevolence and cold, matter-of-fact tonality made Burke's statement all the more ominous. - Crystal. Anything else? - Not much. Seventh: you are to leave any duty or employment in order to take the Trials, but again, that will not be a problem for you. This also means that you cannot apply for any employment opening. I know this sounds silly, but keep in mind that the tenants were written before the time of résumés. Eighth: you may also not bring any child, apprentice, squire, servant or vassal under your care to complete the tenants, but any non-sentient animals are acceptable. - Non-sentient animals? There are sentient animals? - Roberto snapped in surprise. Some things are just harder to believe than others. - Please do not digress Mr. Garcia. - Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that there are fucking sentient animals? Right out of a motherfucking Disney film? What the hell do they do, sing and dance about the power of love and friendship? Because there has to be a reason that you specified "non-sentient" and that logically means that there are sentient animals. Burke glared and his chest made a motion as if he sighted, yet there was no bellow of air coming out of his nose. - Yes, they are sentient animals Mr. Garcia. You will be introduced to them in due time. For now, they are none of your concern. - How are non-sentient animals not my concern? What if I accidentally find one and hurt one? How do I know if an animal is sentient? Global government operating trough magical methods to enforce a global conspiracy is one thing, but sentient animals? That's screwed up beyond belief. What sort of fucking magic does that? Burke massaged his forehead for about half a minute before answering. - It's magic, Mr. Garcia. It's just magic. It's not fucking magic, it's just magic. Let it be that. - I'm sorry, its just... - Roberto made a note within himself to ask for a Encyclopaedia Magica or "Magic for dummies" or something, once Burke is done. - Please, go on. - Thank you. There is only one more tenant, the ninth. You must make all arrangements for your own protection. You will not be protected for the duration of the trials, or be subject of any other kind of interference, even if you are faced with an obstacle that you cannot reasonably handle and that is by no means your fault. A policy to avoid bias, I'm afraid. - What about the FBI agents watching me? They're watching me day and night, I'm pretty sure that they're watching me now. They will report any anomaly regarding me and sure as the sun will rise, these trials will make me do something weird. I could arrested just for running around funnily and that would make this whole thing pointless. If nothing else, I might become an attention magnet and some is bound to pour on you. - Do not worry about them. This problem has been taken care of. - How? You also just said that there will be no interference from your side? - During the trials. I never said that there will be no interference before they begin. As for how, let it be enough that the FBI agents watching you will report nothing unusual about your activities. - Burke's polite but firm tone suggested that he won't reveal more than that and Robert knew better than to try and push it. - Alright then. What's my first trial and what do I need to do? Burke stood up. - I take it that you accept this invitation to gain the title of a Sentinel? - I figure that I should give it a shot. It's not everyday that employers look you up. - Yes or no? - he asked rather pointedly. - Yes - said Roberto hesitantly. Burke seemed to be relieved, as if he just finished dealing with a difficult matter. - Thank you for your time. To answer your question: you were already given everything you need. Goodbye, Mr. Garcia. I wish you the best of luck. - With that, Burke turned his back and went behind the shelves where the light of the lantern didn't penetrate. His silhouette just melted into the darkness and disappeared. Roberto swiftly picked up the petroleum lamp and went after him. There was no one there. He checked the entire room and it was empty. Out of perhaps doubt or just some sort of frustrated futility, he checked the barred door. It was solid and Roberto could only assume that the only way to open it from the outside is using explosives. There was no other opening in the room besides the air duct, which was grated and too small for any human being. Burke just disappeared. Somehow, that didn't surprise Roberto. He had thoughts about that. Since he wasn't the type to talk to himself, his thoughts were along these lines: "Why the flying fuck did he have to confirm whether I want the job or not? Are they listening in and want to legally cover their asses? Is the guy that unsure or was that some sort of trick? And what the hell is with the presentation? Haven't these people heard of a using a fucking phone or something? Why in the blazes did he had to do THAT? What does he think he was doing, scaring the living shit out of me in the middle of the night? Was he showing off, or is he batshit insane? Jesus, I actually hope that its the former, because if this is some sort of indoctrination for a wacked cult, I don't know what I'll do. This "trial" separates me from all my family and friends and allows them to slowly start brainwashing me. Shit, the more I think about it, the more disturbing does this get. If he's right, I can't even call any backup or even run trough any contacts to check out what's really going and whether these "Sentinels" were real at all. But these guys know my past, so they have to be serious to some extent. If nothing else, they can apparently either manipulate or order the FBI around. What the hell else can these guys do and why do they need me?! To top it off, I forgot to ask for any information source! I can't even start to think about the job's history. The world's more fucked up than I thought and God knows that wasn't a pretty picture to begin with! " Roberto pondered whether calling Lu would be a good idea. He didn't have any family and at that moment, only Lu knew where he was and had any means to help him. She's still in town and she would definitely be interested in a guy contacting him on the first day after he got fired. Then Roberto considered what she would find: a traumatized ex-soldier talking about someone waking him up in the middle of the night and fantastically bypassing a simply impenetrable security; then giving an even more fantastical story for a job that they want to hire him for. All while not leaving any evidence. Lu would send Roberto into an asylum faster than a veteran sailor heads to a brothel after months at sea. In her position, Roberto would do the same and began to ponder whether he should call her anyway. Roberto was manly enough to consider mental illness to be something serious. It's brain chemistry, if it fucks up, it fucks up and you can only hope that they can screw it back into working order. But as he sat down on the rickety camping chair, bewildered by his own possible conclusions, he felt something bulking against his rear. It was the glass flask of whiskey that Burke gave Roberto. It was real and unmistakably Burke's (as Roberto never collected flasks of any kind), with the writing of "Astro Balux Fine Glasses Made in the USA 1932" bulging out of the side. Roberto had thoughts about that as well: "How fucking clever. I should call Lu just to get back at this wiseass." - for a moment, even as his doubts were washed away, he seriously considered doing just that. If there is anything she likes to do, is to pull a stinker under some uppity asshole's nose. He instead went and took the folded ladder and he placed at the air duct. He used it to reach it and tear it out (it wasn't screwed into the wall), and after a few minutes of fruitless grabbing and swearing, he pulled out a small bag covered with duct tape. He tore it open and unloaded its contents. In a folded piece of paper there were several keys and numbers on the inner side of the paper. With these, Roberto went to the gun cabinet and began to work, switching between experimenting various keys and trying to read combinations in the lantern light. He discarded the opened padlocks and eventually revealed the cabinet's contents. One might have expected a large amount of guns judging by the combined security of padlocks. What one might have not expected is a few guns but a shit-ton of ammunition instead, the former all wrapped in either a leather case or sandpaper for protection against the elements. Roberto ignored these, but made a note to try them to see if they are still working properly. On the shelves, besides the large collection of various ammunition, were several bigger boxes. Most were either wood or metal indicating different origins, one even covered with Russian letters. There was also a cardboard box on the bottommost shelf that had one flap missing, revealing a bundle of dollars wrapped in Scotch tape. Roberto ignored these too, and went for a simple military-green metal case in the middle-most shelf. On it was the brand printed writing of "Colt's Patent Firearms Manufacturing" and its logo. Roberto took it along with one box of ammunition, then closed the cabinet, locking it with only its internal lock and not bothering with the padlocks that now lay scattered across the floor. He brought the box atop a smaller wooden create and in the lamplight, opened the container. Wrapped in cloth, parts of a gun emerged along with three magazines, spare parts and cleaning tools. On the slide the words "Colt MK IV Series 80" were written. Roberto, in lamplight, began cleaning it from the protective grease it was covered in, as it was meant for storage only. His movements were mechanical and fluid, the lamplight barely needed in the hands of a expert doing a routine for the thousandth time. It was soon that Roberto assembled and dry-fired the weapon (fired it without ammunition) and heard a satisfying click. Loading the clip was a pain however, especially in the dark and with greasy fingers. None the less, in the silence of the room the weapon was cocked and ready to fire, if it were not for the safety that Roberto deliberately set to on. He looked at his watch. It was 0:30 AM and he still felt tired. He again considered setting an alarm to wake up at 8. Then he again thought "screw it" and went to bed, carefully placing the gun nearby as he lay down. As he blew out the lamplight, Roberto had only one thought as he tried to sleep: "This is going to be one heck of a job." Technical notes: Character count: 36234 Word count: 6383 Lines: 543 making 12 pages Notes: 1. Do expect some occasional indulgence in gun-nuttery. I hope this is acceptable, with Roberto being a marine and all. 2. The next story will not be full of dialogue. I promise. 3. If you are confused by anything, don't be afraid to ask. Last Edited By: Zixinus 11-Jan-09 09:25:11. Edited 1 time.
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Bethgael		#6	[url]	[-]
15-Jan-09 07:43:07 High Priestess of Fluffy the Purple Unicorn ~ Naughty, but not trashy	I'm at "okay for here, for the moment"... if it does get adulty, easy enough to move, no sweat. ~~~ Reno's Story ~ u/d 12 Jan *~~~* Raith's Story ~ u/d 3 Jan *~~~* Tell Me, O Muse, of the heroes who travelled far and wide ~ Homer, The Odyssey Don't want to reach for me do you, I mean nothing to you, the little things give you away
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Zixinus		#7	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 15-Jan-09 07:59:12	No offence, but I'd like someone to actually talk about the story itself rather than me unwisely putting in "adult themes".
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Bethgael		#8	[url]	[-]
15-Jan-09 08:41:41 High Priestess of Fluffy the Purple Unicorn ~ Naughty, but not trashy	No offence taken. I will get back to this soon (I have 17 stories to read right now, and that's before I start on ones posted here and also do my own writing). It can be difficult when it comes to someone's first story, when you don't know someone well, or at all. It's hard to know how touchy they are or what exactly, the kind of feedback they want. Having said that, I can understand how it feels when you want feedback and there isn't much. My own preference is to see a lot of a story for newer posters before I say anything (unless I already know the person offline, for example, or know that they see the right "tone" in my voice when I post because they know me), because I can't assess a story on one or two chapters. My first impression is... I'd like to see more (this is a Good Thing, btw). So... keep posting I should also say, to set your mind at ease, that if the story is moved, it's not because you've "unwisely" (did we say that? No) used adult themes or done anything wrong. A few stories have started out in one spot and been moved to another. It's just the nature of how it is, no judgement implied. Rhae's reponse was just based on the warning you put at the top that there are adult themes. Is all good. ~~~ Reno's Story ~ u/d 12 Jan *~~~* Raith's Story ~ u/d 3 Jan *~~~* Tell Me, O Muse, of the heroes who travelled far and wide ~ Homer, The Odyssey Don't want to reach for me do you, I mean nothing to you, the little things give you away
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Caber		#9	[url]	[-]
16-Jan-09 06:32:11 The Thinking Woman's Crumpet	Murpy is cruel Murphy? The man checked the locks for tempering and walked away satisfied. I think you wanted tampering. Interesting concept, I actually thought of the Illuminati from Tomb Raider as I read through this, although I'm sure Roberto's legs are not as nice as Angelina Jolies. Roberto has "been there done that" and is mid forties? How many more years can he realistically operate at peak efficiency? Would not an organization look to recruit someone younger who would feasibly give more return for the investment? If they were looking at him to operate as an advisor/instructor, that I could see, but a field operative? Perhaps you might want to make him younger, say mid-thirties, that would give him the required experience at a more suitable age.
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Zixinus		#10	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 16-Jan-09 07:07:08	Perhaps you might want to make him younger, say mid-thirties, that would give him the required experience at a more suitable age. He's already in his mid-thirties. 35 to be exact. I did thought of what you described above. And the organization in question has ways to solve the problem of age or revitalize Roberto if they find it necessary. He has been in quite a few hot-spots, not as much as hinted in the story, but its safe to say that Roberto is pretty experienced. Murphy? Murphy's law. And yeah, I wanted to write tampering. I'm going to fix that, as well as to edit out some bad jokes that don't really work in retrospect. I do have to ask. How funny do y'all find the story?
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Bethgael		#11	[url]	[-]
16-Jan-09 07:18:38 High Priestess of Fluffy the Purple Unicorn ~ Naughty, but not trashy	I didn't find it amusing at all on a first read-through. Maybe it's not suited to my sense of humour, though. ~~~ Reno's Story ~ u/d 12 Jan *~~~* Raith's Story ~ u/d 3 Jan *~~~* Tell Me, O Muse, of the heroes who travelled far and wide ~ Homer, The Odyssey Don't want to reach for me do you, I mean nothing to you, the little things give you away
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Zixinus		#12	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 16-Jan-09 08:14:08	Nah, I think I was trying too hard. I think the dildo joke is neat, but some other stuff like Roberto's outrage over the concept of sentient animals is taken too far.
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Caber		#13	[url]	[-]
16-Jan-09 09:06:22 The Thinking Woman's Crumpet	The figure had Hispanic features, was middle-aged and was in good shape with signs of tropic life. When I read middle-aged I think 40+. I would not classify mid thirties as middle-aged. Most people still have all their mojo.
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Zixinus		#14	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 16-Jan-09 09:35:57	Ah, I see what's the problem. What would you call a person that is in his mid-thirties?
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LadyRhaevyn		#15	[url]	[-]
Ne'er Do Naughtay 16-Jan-09 11:33:12 Grammar Gestapo	I'd call them mostly grown up. Oh, and Caber, I'm 50 and I have PLENTY of mojo... trust me wanders off muttering about middle-aged "English doesn't just borrow words from other languages. It follows them down dark alleys, hits them over the head with old beer bottles, and rummages through their pockets for loose grammar." - Unknown
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Bethgael		#16	[url]	[-]
16-Jan-09 12:33:12 High Priestess of Fluffy the Purple Unicorn ~ Naughty, but not trashy	Zixinus wrote: Ah, I see what's the problem. What would you call a person that is in his mid-thirties? Younger than me. ~~~ Reno's Story ~ u/d 12 Jan *~~~* Raith's Story ~ u/d 3 Jan *~~~* Tell Me, O Muse, of the heroes who travelled far and wide ~ Homer, The Odyssey Don't want to reach for me do you, I mean nothing to you, the little things give you away
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Zixinus		#17	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 17-Jan-09 09:22:03	Bethgael wrote: Zixinus wrote: Ah, I see what's the problem. What would you call a person that is in his mid-thirties? Younger than me. The figure had Hispanic features, was younger than Bethgael and was in good shape with signs of tropic life. Like that?
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Caber		#18	[url]	[-]
17-Jan-09 09:32:32 The Thinking Woman's Crumpet	Zixinus wrote: Bethgael wrote: Zixinus wrote: Ah, I see what's the problem. What would you call a person that is in his mid-thirties? Younger than me. The figure had Hispanic features, was younger than Bethgael and was in good shape with signs of tropic life. Like that? Works for me.
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LadyRhaevyn		#19	[url]	[-]
Ne'er Do Naughtay 17-Jan-09 11:10:06 Grammar Gestapo	"Signs of tropic life" like, what... tattoos of fish on his arms? LOL sorry Zix, no offense, but for some reason that's all that would come to my mind. That and loud hawaiian tourist shirts... ducks "English doesn't just borrow words from other languages. It follows them down dark alleys, hits them over the head with old beer bottles, and rummages through their pockets for loose grammar." - Unknown
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Zixinus		#20	[url]	[-]
Pooduckian 17-Jan-09 20:15:58	Ah, I should change that to "signs of living in the tropics". I was thinking about stuff like tanned skin. I don't know what else tropic life can give to someone.
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