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| All the Injustice of the World | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 28 2008, 12:00 AM (447 Views) | |
| Nilloc James | Sep 4 2009, 12:52 AM Post #41 |
IT
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I like your voice. I know when I write my voice comes off "crude" not neccisarily a bad crude but a different texture than your typically smooth writing. All I could ask for is slightly more than two paragraphs at a time. |
“To be humble to superiors is duty, to equals courtesy, to inferiors nobleness.” I conquer TESFU
Mikey Valentine's forum | |
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| vanir90210 | Sep 4 2009, 12:55 AM Post #42 |
Budding Lyricist
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Well, normally, I do, but I just wanted to let people know it's still being worked on. Sorta like a teaser trailer, you know? |
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Spoiler: click to toggle  "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway"
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| Nilloc James | Sep 4 2009, 12:58 AM Post #43 |
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IT
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I dislike being teased. >:( |
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“To be humble to superiors is duty, to equals courtesy, to inferiors nobleness.” I conquer TESFU
Mikey Valentine's forum | |
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| vanir90210 | Sep 6 2009, 11:22 PM Post #44 |
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Budding Lyricist
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Ten years. Ten long, arduous years. It was July 9th, 2287, the tenth anniversary of the explosion of Megaton’s bomb, and the subsequent stripping of Marcus’ sane mind from his brain. Ten years since he had been mere cannon-fodder in the Enclave. Now, he was but a hollowed-out shell, a tool of destruction and command for any and all of the Enclave’s needs. He found no reason to resist the love of killing that resided in him now; he had naught to live for. Unable to find Katrina’s body anywhere, and unable to traverse inside the ruins of Megaton due to the intense radiation, Marcus had resigned himself to the fact that there was no way she could have survived the blast that scarred the landscape around Vault 101. His livelihood had been lost, his only saving grace taken from him. Every day, he thought about his actions that day, the day before, and how they might have saved the city, and thus, Katrina. The major events played through his mind continuously. The tiny occurrences that he should have paid attention to. If only he had! Confessor Cromwell audibly arguing with an unknown man the night before, the Vault dweller lurking around town. If he had listened, this insanity, this utter injustice, would not have happened. Though not his fault, he continued to beat himself up for it, day, after day, after day. There was no escaping the tyranny that his mind forced upon him. But that was a decade ago. He knew, deep down, that he needed to stay with the present, lest he be completely consumed by his misery. So it was, with great reluctance, he rose from his seat to answer the dull tone that emanated from a device adjacent to the door. “Yeah, what is it?” He asked, pressing the red button attached to the com. “Your presence is required, Lieutenant. For a debriefing. It would wise of you to attend.” Colonel Autumn replied, his voice lightly rasping with age. “Assemble your squad, and report to the command center. You have one hour.” “Yes sir,” Marcus said under his breath, after releasing his hold on the button. One hour? Who did Autumn think he was? Colonel, granted, but most of his squad couldn’t be ready in an hour, let alone two. That was partially the reason they had been assigned to him. Rigid to the bone with protocol, the higher powers in the Enclave had expected him to snap them into shape. However, they were the laziest, most lay about people Marcus had ever met. However sloppy they were, though, they certainly didn’t show it in the field. They could get a job done better than the Brotherhood’s old military robot, Liberty Prime. Marcus knew more than a few people that were distressed that it had been destroyed, the Brotherhood itself notwithstanding; it was irreplaceable technology that could have assisted the Enclave to a great extent. With a sigh, Marcus slowly meandered over to the switchboard hanging on his right wall. He flipped several switches, and spoke into the microphone. “Men? And lady… You are to report to the command center within the hour. Orders straight from Colonel Autumn, so I don’t want to hear any griping about it. Understood?” “But Sir,” a woman’s voice floated from the speaker, “I’m not quite finished upgrading my Lazer Rifle, if I could have just a few more-“ Marcus cut her off. “You have your orders, soldier, and I strongly suggest you follow them, or there will be hell to pay.” He powered down the com system, and began to ready himself. He pulled from his weapons locker a Lazer Rifle that he had enhanced with an additional compensator and power matrix, essentially reducing the power usage by two thirds and doubling the energy output. It was a modification he was rather proud of, and even impressed the Enclave scientists; it was actually an old raider trick he had used before to allow some of his traps to last longer. The rifle was painted gloss black with two insignias, on either side. The left one was of a raptor’s claw cut into the side of a lion, the other the generic Enclave emblem, an eagle carrying a torch and an arrow in each claw, presumably a pre-war symbol. The former he earned when he and the only surviving member of his team took down the Lyon’s Pride, back when he was a mere private. It was a fight they had nearly lost, and even so had won with great losses: Matthew Hardent, his squad mate, had been killed, turned into a pile of ash, by the Brotherhood’s accursed modified weapons. Marcus himself had escaped with only one leg left. His right leg had been replaced with a synthetic one built by the Commonwealth, at great expense. Marcus was fully aware that the only reason he had been allowed to have it was because the President admired his skill. Donning his armor was a rather dull process; he first had to slip into his Mark 9 Recon Suit, before attaching the various pieces of armor to the suit. It would be much easier if he had an engineer to assist him, as those guys could as quickly wipe down the outside of his armor as attach it, but unfortunately for him, he apparently was not important enough to have VIP assistance. Lieutenants were as numerous as the bacteria in a toilet, but he was also the only one with the authority to speak to President Eden directly. After several minutes, he finally managed to equip it all. His appearance still frightened himself; the Black Devil armor was efficient for intimidation, if nothing else. It certainly wasn’t the best power armor; the Brotherhood soldiers adorned with T-48c Power Armor were nearly indestructible. Thankfully, there were relatively few of them, only large military bases contained the armor, of which there were few, and most of those that had existed were destroyed by the atomic bombs of the War. Marcus checked his clock and discovered that he had little more than a quarter hour left to meet the deadline. He made his way out of the door and down the corridor to the transport junction with haste. The soldiers he passed, both male and female, captain and corporal alike, nodded at him with respect. He had never imagined, living in Megaton, that he would ever have commanded the respect of so many people. Even so, there was nothing he wouldn’t give to return to his old life, post-raider, that is. He had had so many plans for the future, only to have them torn away from him by a chance of fate. Marcus arrived at the transport station, and boarded a cart to the main command station. He was absolutely sure that whatever awaited him, he was not going to like it. Edited by vanir90210, Sep 14 2009, 04:25 PM.
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Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway"
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| redsrock | Sep 14 2009, 09:22 AM Post #45 |
Jefe el Heffalump
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This is just a personal preference, but I'm going to suggest it to you anyway. I don't like using numbers. I like spelling numbers out. Now, what you did is technically correct, but I don't like it. To me, by spelling numbers out (especially ones that aren't long), the story looks more professional and more presentable. Again, it's just my opinion. Take it or leave it (though I'm hoping you take it). Very nice so far. I think you did an excellent job of bringing us readers up to speed, but not dragging it out. Near perfect I'd even say. You've taken a very interesting turn with the story. I can't wait to see what happens next. 
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| vanir90210 | Sep 14 2009, 04:23 PM Post #46 |
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Budding Lyricist
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I like to do that, too, but I usually forget when typing it. I'm glad you like it. I hope no one will be disappointed, not that they will have any reason to be, of course. |
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Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway"
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| vanir90210 | Nov 5 2009, 11:23 PM Post #47 |
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Budding Lyricist
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In future years, Marcus would admit to himself that he had not been prepared whatsoever for the scene he was to face. As soon as his vertibird touched down, he and his squad had been struck by heavy covering fire. Most of the bullets to strike him had been glancing, and bounced right off of his armor. However, a few of his squad members were not so lucky. Francis had been shot by a sniper round in the soft padding between his chest armor and helmet. He fell backwards with blood spurting out of his neck, coating the arid ground with pools of scarlet liquid. He ordered his squad back, towards a run-down old shop, whose display stands were full of novelties; bobble-heads, postcards and the like. Their refuge was short lived, however, for the Brotherhood members had tracked their movements and within moments heavy rounds were blasting through the concrete walls just a few feet away. For some reason, the enemy troops were concentrating their fire on that one spot, even though no one stood there. Most likely cover fire, Marcus thought, and turned to the remaining members of his team. Only Jessica, Dimitri, Daron, and Martin remained, out of the original 12. Damn those [censored]ing Brotherhood soldiers. How could they have been expecting us? “C’mon,” he said through the his suit’s integrated com system, “follow me, and avoid those bullets.” He proceeded along the back wall of the shop, going prone to avoid the bullets ripping through the wall. Soon he was past, and he turned his head to check the status of his squad members. They were all operating well, with Martin just standing up from crawling under the spray, being the last. He gave them a short motion, and they followed him, weapons ready. The land to the right of the building was rocky and uneven, perfect cover. Marcus hurried over to it, and his squad followed, ducking down behind some rocks to remain out of sight. They all rested their backs on the rocks, and Marcus let out a frustrated sigh. “What the [censored] was that? There’s no reason they should have known we were coming, unless our intel was corrupted!” he shouted, infuriated to no end. Jessica crawled over to where he was resting. “Sir, at least we’ve done our part. The rest of the troops will be arriving momentarily, and they’ll still be focused on finding us.” Marcus smirked, not caring that she wouldn’t be aware of it. “You honestly think we’re done here? Oh no, get ready for some combat. They,” he gestured towards where the Brotherhood members were gathering the bodies of his fallen comrades, “did not die just for a stupid distraction. You have your weapons, now use them.” Jessica nodded, then pointed at Dimitri, who rose to a crouching position and followed her along a path between the rocks. Marcus allowed them a few moments to get into position, before grabbing a plasma grenade from his belt. ‘’ He armed it, then tossed it toward the clueless brotherhood soldiers. A burst of green energy enveloped the area, sending the soldiers flying and ripping two of them to pieces. Marcus jumped out from behind his cover and shot 4 bursts from his Lazer Rifle at one of the soldiers, who was just beginning to pick himself up off the ground. The soldier collapsed, a hole burned in the side of his head. The rest of the Brotherhood members hurried to their feet, aiming their weapons carefully. They advanced slowly towards Marcus. The lieutenant raised his weapon into the air, in a surrendering gesture. Suddenly, the farthest soldier to the right fell backwards, blood gushing from a hole in his forehead. The Brotherhood soldiers whipped to the direction that the bullet had come from, just to have several of them drop, their armor smashing together and emitting a crunching sound. They began firing randomly in the direction of Jessica and Dimitri. Marcus hoped that they had got behind cover before anything bad happened. Regardless, he began firing at the Brotherhood soldiers. Daron and Martin rose out of their hiding spots and fired as well. Just then, the shop that Marcus and his depleted squad had hid behind exploded, casting shattered bricks and old, cheaply produced products in every direction. Heavy machine gun fire riddled the Brotherhood soldiers, and they began scattering, abandoning all sense of formation, just intent on escaping the carnage. Two vertibirds landed, and a multitude of Enclave soldiers emerged from their depths, firing at the scattering soldiers with haste. Marcus had a mini celebration within himself. After the horrible start they had had, he never expected to make it out alive. It was short-lived, however, as a sniper rifle round slammed into his left arm, tearing it nearly in half. It hung from the rest of his body by just an inch of flesh and muscle. He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, as the pain numbed his thought processes quite well. All he could recall was Jessica’s voice shouting in his ear, being loaded into a vertibird, and seeing as it flew off two soldiers, one of them impossibly small to be fighting, clad in nothing but recon armor and a closed helmet decimating the Enclave soldiers, dodging bullets with unbelievable agility. |
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Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway"
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| redsrock | Nov 6 2009, 01:14 PM Post #48 |
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Jefe el Heffalump
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Lose one of the "however's." Leaving the first sounds better to me, but it's obviously up to you. Nice chapter. You do well with the combat scenes. I do wish to warn you, though. Two stories at once is an awful lot to ask for in an author. Be careful that it doesn't lower the quality in either of them. Edited by redsrock, Nov 6 2009, 01:14 PM.
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| vanir90210 | Nov 6 2009, 05:24 PM Post #49 |
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Budding Lyricist
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Well, I'm running them at the same time, but not writing them at the same time. Anyway, thanks, I didn't notice both of the 'howevers.' |
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Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway"
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| vanir90210 | Nov 16 2009, 11:32 PM Post #50 |
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Budding Lyricist
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“I truly find it hard to believe you're still alive,” A cool, mellow voice echoed in the large room. It looked more like a warehouse than a medical center; equipment strewn around the floor, diagnostic tools placed haphazardly in bins, on shelves, and wherever the apparent previous user just decided to drop it. Even the beds sat in odd positions, frequently placed in a way which almost required someone to have enough guile to be able to navigate a maze just to reach the far end. Regardless of its flaws, it certainly served its purpose, which was to provide the utilities treat and repair wounds, as well as replace biomechanical parts when required. “I'm surprised myself,” Marcus replied, staring at his newly repaired arm and flexing his fingers. Odd mechanical whirs emanated from his elbow, causing him to wince. He would have preferred to have kept as much of his actual arm as possible, but alas, the damage from the enemy sniper rifle had been too extensive to even allow the thought of such an idea. “One question, though.” “Shoot,” said the female attendant. Marcus twisted his face into one of puzzled curiosity. “How were you able to do this? I thought only the Commonwealth had this kind of technology.” The mechanic gave a short chuckle, before replying. “Yeah, but that was before you decided to get limbs ripped off for the first time. After that, I got direct orders from President Eden to work on replicating the tech. It was no easy task, either. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find smart circuits these days? The [censored]ing scavengers cleared out every stock of them for miles around. My absence resulted in quite a loss in soldiers, as well. I suppose, though, that it was worth it in the long run, since my fellow doctors and I will be able to treat wounds and [censored] better.” “Jesus [censored]ing Christ, I didn't ask for your life story. Whatever, I'm outta here,” he said, then lifted himself off the medical table and made his way to the exit, as quickly as he could without tripping over any detritus. The doctor snorted, then shouted after him, “Screw you. Don't forget to come back tomorrow for a follow up exam. You don't show up, I don't get paid, and then you get your ass beat!” Marcus laughed the rest of the way out. After he pushed open the door, the bright shine of the sun struck him like a Super-Sledge, causing him to cover his eyes out of the sheer pain. It subsided momentarily, and he then checked his Pip-boy map to get his bearings. He was at the medical center enough that he should have its location memorized by now, but he never seemed to be able to do so. He marked a waypoint on the map, and then continued the computers directions to his quarters. The sun was setting by the time he arrived; he could feel himself gaining vigor and his mind became sound, even though he couldn't actually see the sky. He walked to the door and entered a short code. With a beep, the door slid open, and he entered. Many thoughts clouded his mind, and he couldn't decide what to do. He then remembered that his Lazer Rifle needed some slight repairs, so he retrieved it from his supply closet. He couldn't find the actual energy to do anything with it, so he sighed and replaced it, and sat at his desk and put his head in his hands. His life sucked, if he was perfectly honest with himself. The only boons he had from his position in the Enclave were clean food, water, and a place to sleep. Sure, he also had countless people to perform any and all tasks he wanted them to, but what was the point? That could only bring him temporary satisfaction. All he really wanted to do was return to his old life in Megaton, with Katrina. He had never even found out whether she had been pregnant or not. It seemed silly to worry about it now, but he still wanted to know. As he contemplated this, a new thought entered his mind. Who were those two lightly armored Brotherhood soldiers that had decimated almost the entire attacking force? No soldier had been able to hit them- No, they had hit them, all right, the bullets just seemed to pass through them without resistance. Could this be new Brotherhood technology? Might the Enclave actually lose the war, after all of the ground they had gained? It was certainly a scary thought. What would become of him if they lost? Would he be executed? Exiled? Or worse? Only time would tell. Of course, to him, any one of the first two options would be preferable to his drab life now. His thoughts returned to Katrina. Such a perfect, though short tempered, girl. Losing her had been the clincher on his sanity. Even to that day, he felt the strings of madness tugging at his entire being. It was wrong, there was no doubt about it. No god could have allowed something as drastic as the destruction of such innocent people and their town. Realizing the futility of his wandering thoughts, Marcus dressed in his simple sleep suit and with difficulty, his mind still running, laid down on his cot and drifted off into sleep. End of Part 1 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway"
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| vanir90210 | Today, 4:21 PM Post #51 |
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Budding Lyricist
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One year anniversary FTW! |
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Spoiler: click to toggle "I look at the eyes, straight to the soul doorway"
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| redsrock | Today, 5:15 PM Post #52 |
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Jefe el Heffalump
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Wow....... |
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8:20 PM Nov 28
