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| Part 1 of 3; (Post apoc attempt) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 30 2007, 02:17 AM (254 Views) | |
| IamSwitch | Nov 30 2007, 02:17 AM Post #1 |
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WARNING: R-Violence/language. (post apoc attempt) old story, reposting here. If I ever get around to finishing it, it'll be the first of a trilogy. Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction/something or another, so uhhhh....yeah. Prologure and Chapter One, I need to revise and probably rewrite the rest.One Rifle Ivan Beck tried to wipe the sweat off his hands. He was having trouble keeping his grip on the metal bars. Blood dripped down on him from his hands. The rusted metal was murder on his skin, and the sections of concrete that the bars stuck out of didn't prove any better for his feet. The wreck of what was once a large office building reached up above him. There was an opening in the wall, where a missile had hit years ago, just a few more floors above him. That was his goal. He had seen a light coming from up there the previous night. His curiosity got the best of him, and now he was climbing up the side of building. He had searched for a stairway, but only found large, metal shafts running up the middle of the structure. His arms burned, and his hands hurt. When he finally reached the hole on the wall, and climbed through, he immediately rolled on to his back and held his hands in front of his face. By now it was getting dark, but he could still see the bleeding cuts and scrapes. Blood dripped down on to his face as he stared at his mangled hands. He wouldn't be climbing down for a few days. He took a quick glimpse around the room. Nothing. What had caused that light he had seen? He looked back out the hole he had climbed through. Out side, hundreds of feet below, he could see the tops of other buildings. None of them had any glass remaining. Most of it had been blasted out a long time ago. At the far edge of the structures, he could see a large body of water. Following the coast, he saw a river he never knew had been there before. It went right through the city, cutting it in half. It was red in the setting sun. He turned back to the room and took a closer look around. There was a collapsed doorway on the far side of it, and rubble strewn about. He started pushing the rubble and debris into small piles. Maybe there was something else worth the time and effort he took to climb up here. Two hours later, moonlight lit the room. He noticed a beam of light next to him. He stuck his hand in it and slowly turned it around. His cuts hadn't improved any. He turned around to find out where the light was coming from. A mirror, the moon light was being reflected off a mirror. Cracked near the collapsed door way, it had fallen off the wall and was now leaning against the wall. There was something in it. He hurriedly crawled across the debris littered floor to the mirror, adding some marks on his knees to the collection of cuts he had going that day. He was face to face with the reflective surface now, staring into it wide eyed. Was that really him? His beardless and scarred face. The short, dusty brown hair. His eyes he noticed the most though. A sunken pair of blue eyes that have seen hell. He was startled by a drop of water that hit his head. He fell backwards, staring at the ceiling, then the hole in the wall. It had started raining out. A real, heavy rain he hadn't noticed. He looked around the room for something he could store some water in. A metal bucket over in the corner caught his eye. He walked over to pick it up and stuck it outside the hole in the wall. It filled up quickly, and he brought it back over in front of the mirror. He dipped his hands in the bucket and started washing off the dust and mud that had collected on his face. Picked up the bucket and dumped what remained over his head. He refilled the bucket and set it in the middle of the floor, saving it for later. He didn't know how long he'd be up here. Chapter One "Deep breath and exhale. Slowly pull back the trigger. Slowly." Ivan did as he was told. The metal trigger would take three pounds of pressure. He felt the trigger snap and instantly the rifle barked it's report. He wasn't prepared for it though, and the rifle flew from his hands, hitting the ground behind him. The man, Guywahn Rahsan, chuckled. "Good job my boy, good job. Now confirm the kill." Guywahn picked up the rifle and worked the bolt, ejecting a brass shell casing. He offered it back to the ten year old boy. Ivan took the gun and slid it across the window sill he had had it resting on. He looked through the scope, as Guywahn had instructed him to. A man lay it the ruined street, in dirty clothes. A pool of blood was forming around his body. "I got him." Guywahn started to laugh. "Good job, my boy! You'll be a pro in no time!" Ivan didn't react as Guywahn had expected he would. He turned around and looked him in the eyes. “Why'd we kill the man?" He asked. Guywahn didn't reply. He just smiled and picked up the long rifle. _______ Ivan awoke with a start. He heard screaming coming from the hole in the wall. Several voices were crying out for mercy. Ivan ran to the hole. It was morning. The sun had risen, and was slowly crawling higher into the sky. The rain had stopped, and it was warm. Ivan looked in the streets, looking for where the noise was coming from. After a few minutes of looking, he saw a woman run from in between the demolished wrecks of two buildings. She tripped and fell in the middle of the cracked street. A man walked out after her, a pistol in his hand. He started dragging the woman back into the alley. Ivan didn't wait any longer. He climbed out of the hole and started a rapid decent down the rusted metal. He had hidden his rifle in a pile of trash and debris. He jumped the last seven feet, landing in a puddle, immediately standing up and walked through the door of the building. The debris pile was in the corner of a lobby. He pulled it out from under a piece of tin. He grabbed it by the stock and walked back out into the street. Ivan calmly walked towards the alley the two had disappeared into. He checked and made sure there was a bullet in the rifles chamber. He did, and he brought the rifle to his shoulder as he turned the corner into the alley. The man had the lady in a corner, at gun point. He noticed the girls eyes looking past him. He turned and saw the man with a long rifle calmly walking towards him. He didn't have enough time to think before he felt the impact of the bullet against his hand, followed by the loud crack of the weapon. The gun flew out of his hand and landed in two separate pieces near the lady. The man grabbed his hand and yelled out in both anger and pain. He ran at the approaching stranger. Ivan didn't have enough time to load another round, so he swung his rifle up and flipped it, holding it by the barrel. The gun man had ran right at him. Stupid move. Ivan swung the rifle like a baseball bat, right into the side of the mans head. He heard and felt the man's skull collapse. The soon to be dead man, fell to the ground. Blood split from the man's head, and soon any signs of life ceased. Ivan looked at the woman. She nodded a thanks and ran. Ivan walked back to the building with the mirror. _______ Guywahn twirled a revolver on his hand. He had been drinking, and was lost in thought. His gun only had one bullet loaded, leaving the five other chambers empty. His free hand was opening and closing slowly, trying to grab something from his past. He pointed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. It clicked empty. He thought back to when he was a young soldier, just out of basic. He had been put right into the combat, a tense urban battle. He had killed his first enemy soldier with the knife he kept in his boot. He had seen his first of many friends to be cut down by enemy machine gun fire. He had been forced to advance under fire...by both the enemy and his commanding officers. He pulled the trigger again. Click. He had been shipped to the western most front of the war in Europe. He had seen the nations flag unfurled on the side of England's Big Ben clock tower. He had seen the horrors of what one well place bullet could do to not only the person it hit, but the fighting spirit of everyone around that person. He had been pinned down by a sniper, and watched as every other member of his squad was shot. He pulled the trigger a third time. Click. He had taken marksmanship training, been given a sniper rifle. He had killed remaining hostiles in London. He had been forced to board a boat, due for the invasion of New York. He had been forced to suicidally charge into New York City. He had taken many wounds and injuries, all while being forced to advance. He had killed hundreds, and not only soldiers. He pulled the trigger a fourth time. Click. He had seen and nearly been blinded by the powers mankind had made. He had been thrown to the ground, a shock wave from what had happened miles away. He had seen men around him vaporized instantly. He had seen people withering in pain on the ground, burns all over him. He had killed many of them out of mercy. He had spent fifty years killing to survive. And now, after years of no thought in it, the guilt had caught up with him. What troubled him most though, is that he had now taught another to kill. He pulled the trigger one final time. Bang. _______ Deep breath and exhale. Slowly pull back the trigger. The rifle cracked and a group of birds flew off from the top of a low building. Ivan ejected the spent casing and looked through the scope again. Solid kill, what was left of the rat was scattered on the street. He started scanning the city for another target. Five minutes later, a noise unfamiliar to him drew his attention from the scope. Where was it coming from? The sky. He backed away from the opening and pushed himself across the floor until he was next to the mirror. The noise got louder and slowly, the source hovered down in front of the hole. A helicopter. A man stood in the open doors on the side. Another man sat at an opening behind the cockpit, a gun sticking out pointing at Ivan. The man standing shouted something into a mic he had in front of his mouth. The man was handed a rifle from someone else inside. He pointed it at Ivan and pulled back on the trigger. Ivan saw a flash and felt something stick into his arm. He was blind before he could look to see what it was, and had collapsed to the floor, writhing and twitching. He heard something slam down on the floor near the opening, and footsteps walk across whatever it was. “Do you have any idea how lucky we...yes sir, I understand...no sir, it is not who we thought...” Ivan felt the bind around his hands and ankles, the cold stone floor that he laid upon. He could hear someone talking, but couldn't see who yet. The voice was struggling to stay under control, on the verge of shouting. “You know what, sir? I've got to go, he's waking up.” The man slammed something down, the noise reverberated throughout the room. Ivan heard the footsteps as he walked across the floor. “You know,” the voice started talking to Ivan. “If you hadn't fired that damn gun, we might not have found you. Whether it's a good thing we did, is for you to decide.” The man bent over and pulled Ivan into an upright position on his knees. Thats a nice rifle you've got there...” Ivan could see a little now. He could see enough to know he was in an empty, stone floored room. With the exception of a metal table near the door, there was nothing but him and whoever this was. The man had walked over to the table and picked something up. He turned, revealing Ivan's rifle. The magazine had been removed, and it had a small tag tied around the barrel. “...who gave it to you?” Ivan tried to talk but what he managed to say could only be interpreted as a cross between a gurgle and a moan. “Maybe it's to early, eh? We drugged you a little.” The man walked back to Ivan. “Well, heres the thing. It's a Russian made Mosin Nagant. About twenty years ago, we came under attack by what we think is the same rifle. Do you even speak English? The drugs should wear off soon.” He was wearing a uniform. His boots were black, and well polished. His belt was also black, with gold clips. The uniform itself was composed of different shades of gray, in a camouflage pattern. He had a gun attached to his belt, and a knife sticking out from his left boot. He wore a cap, which was colored a dark gray. His face was thin, as was his mouth. He looked over at a large mirror on a wall. Ivan hadn't seen it before.“But unfortunately, this has to be done now. I'll start: Hello, my name is Captain Andy Gerhard. What is yours?” He had to force the words through his throat. “I-Ivan.” “Ivan...?” “Ivan Beck.” “Good! So, Mr. Beck, I'll try to explain whats going on here.” He pulled the knife out of his boot and walked behind Ivan. The rope was cut from his wrists and ankles. Gerhard helped him stand and led him to the table. “You didn't seem old enough to have been our attacker. How old are you anyway?” “I don't know.” “Well, what do you know about The Great Desolation?” He asked as he pulled out a chair for Ivan. “Not a lot. It was a massive barrage of nuclear weapons. Thats what my friend told me.” Ivan sat down, and Gerhard sat on the other side of the table. “Second Stage, correct. Do you know about the First Stage, though?” He got a puzzled look from Ivan in return. “Guess not. Well, before the bombing, the Soviets had pushed into western Europe and completely wasted our allies. From there, they attacked mainland America. They used some...unexpected tactics. We put up one hell of a fight though, so they decided to nuke us. We retaliated with what nukes we had left.” “And the soviets still had troops here?” “Thats right, they nuked their own troops. Do you like coffee, Mr. Beck? I could really go for some coffee right now, would you like some?” He stood and walked over to the door. Ivan watched, confused at the turn of conversation, as Gerhard banged his fist on the door. A slot slid open at the bottom, and a trey was pushed under with a couple mugs of coffee on it. “Want some?” Gerhard asked as he sat back down, offering a cup to Ivan. “No thank you. Why am I here?” “Suit yourself.” He put the cup down and sipped at his own mug. “Your here because of that rifle. We have seen it before. Who gave it to you?” “A man named Guywahn.” “Guywahn, eh? His real name is David Anatoly.” |
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| Esaul | Nov 30 2007, 03:43 AM Post #2 |
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Nathan, I keep forgetting how amazing your war stories are. Why did you ever stop?
This is the major issue you have thus far. You repeat mirror and wall one too many times. My advice is to try to reword it, or use pronouns/synonyms to improve that particular part. Other than that I say keep it up. I think the most captivating part of this first chapter is when the ten year old boy killed someone. |
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| IamSwitch | Nov 30 2007, 08:03 PM Post #3 |
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Yep, I need the main character to be messed up a bit in the head, add some conflict there. I'll fiddle around with the paragraph a bit. And whatever I had of this story at the previous WD that isn't here now is on my redo list. I think this was all typed before I got a job, and I usually typed late at night when everyone else was asleep, so theres probably tons of screw ups. :EDIT:
That any better? Also I put a warning on top the first post. I just deleted like 7 pages of this I had saved. needed to be redone so bad, lost sight of original path :rolleyes: |
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| Esaul | Dec 1 2007, 03:20 AM Post #4 |
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Administrator
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Get working on more! |
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| IamSwitch | Dec 2 2007, 02:30 AM Post #5 |
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Chapter 2 “Why am I here?” Ivan repeated the question. He didn't care. Guywahn was dead, he passed long ago. He needed to get out of here. “You know, it would be pretty easy to get out of here.” The look on the Captain's face was a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Do you even know whats on the other side of these walls? Dirt! We're underground, and every way out is being watched by our best security forces. If you really think you can get out of here, then by all means go ahead and try.” “Our security forces? Who are we? Why haven't I seen any of you before? Why are you underground?” Ivan didn't understand any of this “We've been hiding out down here for a few reasons, Ivan. The first was the radiation from the bombs, the second was to keep our community safe from wandering lunatics like your friend, Guywahn. We knew he taught someone else how to shoot when we sent a few people out to scout some years ago, one of which we think you shot. And now, as if our situation couldn't be worse, there is a group of hostiles that have been attacking another of our underground shelters.” “Hostiles, like me and Guywahn?” “No, more advanced. Theres only five at most, and they have technology that we don't have records of ever being developed. We were hoping to convince Guywahn to help us out here.” “In return for what, freedom?” Ivan saw the man's eyes narrow slightly. He was getting annoyed. “Something along the lines of that, yes. Whats important is, we need to find him. Where is he, where'd he go Ivan?” “He shot himself.” Gerhard stood up and slammed his hands on the table. “Now I know that is complete bull-” Ivan stood up and slammed his own hands down on the table top. “It is not! I was there! I heard the gunshot! I saw the gun fall from his hand!” Gerhard whipped his pistol out of the holster and leveled it at Ivan's eyes. “As you can see, attempting to attack any of us would be completely pointless. You'd cause more pain to yourself when we react. Now calm down, and please follow me through the door. Theres something I'd like to show you.” The Captain walked over and banged on the door. Whoever was on the other side opened it and Ivan followed the Captain through. He found himself in a dimly lit hallway, lined with rooms like the one he just came out of. The hallway exited out into a small office, a desk in the middle of the room. A guard leaning backwards in his chair with his feet on his desk looked up over the top of a book. “Good day, sir.” “Door.” The Captain answered simply. The guard did as he was told, getting up and opening a door on the far wall. He returned to his desk and went back to his book. What was through the door was completely unexpected to Ivan. What looked like a city street, crowded with people. A lot of people. They were now standing on the side of a large, cobble-stone walkway. People were everywhere, pushing carts, carrying bags, some with children on their backs. They all wore somewhat ragged clothing, but they were clean. They were happy. A soccer ball came flying out of a dried up drainage pipe, closely followed by a group of children. The ball came to a stop at Ivan's feet. The Captain bent over and picked it up. Walking to the group of kids and handing it to the oldest looking one, he turned to Ivan. “We need help Ivan, these hostiles are a mystery to us. All we have for proof is the shell casings and bullet holes. “And what could I do?” “All our contact with these bastards has ended in fierce close quarters combat. We need to take them down from a distance.” He paused and walked back to Ivan. “Your very skilled with a rifle, Ivan. I'll bring you to our leader, and we'll see what he wants you to do.” “Whose your leader?” “He goes by Mr. Price. Shortly after we first put this all together thirty years ago, he was shot and paralyzed from the waist down. He spends all his time in a room where he can control all of this. Only a select few can see him, so you should be honored.” The Captain started leading Ivan back into the door they had come from. Captain Gerhard continued walking across the room, back towards the holding room Ivan had been in before. But he stopped at the wall to the immediate right, and stood waiting. Ivan heard the reclining guard from before mutter something under his breath and the sound of a switch being thrown. The wall panels slid apart to reveal another door. One of the accompanying guards opened the door and stood aside as Ivan and the Captain entered the makeshift elevator that was behind it. “We're going down Ivan, and when we reach the bottom, we will exit directly into his chamber. You will not try anything, got it? He has a personal security force that will shoot you if he twitches his finger towards you, okay? You're to valuable an asset to lose. “ The rickety elevator was nothing but a plank of plywood and a few rusty railings. It creaked and moaned as the two stepped on. Ivan looked at the Captain. He seemed kind of nervous. Gerhard saw him looking. “I never get used to this damn thing. Like it's about to fall out from under us...” He trailed off into thought as the elevator started it's slow descent. _________ “Come here my boy, come here.” Guywahn sat down in a chair with his rifle laid across his legs. Ivan hadn't ever seen him without it. The wooden stock seemed to always look brand new, and the barrel never rusted. It made a click noise as Guywahn took off the scope. The chair was situated right next to an open window in the two story building they had made their temporary home. Guywahn took the scope and looked up at the sky with it. A smile slowly became noticeable across his face. “Ivan, come here, come here!” Guywahn picked Ivan up and sat him down on his lap. He handed him the scope and pointed towards a brighter star. Ivan looked through the scope at it. The scope didn't help much, but it did make known to Ivan that the star was moving. “Do you know what that is, Ivan?” Guywahn asked. He was excited about it. “No...” Ivan concentrated on the moving star for minutes before he realized that it wasn't a star. “What is it?” “That is what we call a satellite. They were thrown up into space before The Great Desolation. The go around the earth and allow us to send signals to people all the way around the planet.” “The Great Detonation?” “Desolation...I'll explain when your older Ivan, your a bit young now.” “How'd they throw them into space?” “With rocket ships Ivan, rocket ships. Maybe I can find an old picture book some where. They were big rockets that we could ride to the stars! I always wanted to be a cosmonaut, but I was a mere soldier, they wouldn't even let me take the test...” Guywahn drifted off into his past. “Uncle, whats a cosmonaut?” Ivan asked after a moment. “They were the people who got to go up in the rocket ships.” As he took the scope back and looked back into the sky, a frown appeared. He'd looked up just in time to see the satellite break off into several pieces. Sad, it was the last one he knew of. “American junk, I guess.” “Whats an American?” “A dead society, much like my own. We had our differences, we made everything better. Their stupid machines were shit!” Guywahn knew in fact that most of the equipment the Americans had were designed specifically to destroy their equivalents in the Soviet inventory. The only reason the invasion had been even semi successful was because of the surprise and masses in his army. Guywahn thought back, why had they chosen to do what they did? The whole assault was a pure waste of time. It ended in a stalemate, just like many of the young men in the ranks had predicted. Spetsnaz special forces had infiltrated the underground sewer systems and tunnels that made up the New York underground. Before the invasion, they set off explosives in major treatment plants and gas lines. The city shutdown, and they raided the subway stations as main force infantry was inserted specially designed boats that traveled directly under the surface of the water. After days of intense fighting, the American reserve troops had showed up. They had tanks and better weapons. The fighting stalled and for a month, the lines did not move. The soviet command decided to drop nuclear weapons. What a botched up assault. Hopefully other units had done better in there zones on the east coast. |
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| IamSwitch | Dec 26 2007, 07:53 PM Post #6 |
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Not much, but the rest of Chapter Two ________ Gerhard slid the iron gate open, letting Ivan walk through. Almost immediately two armed guards stepped out from either side of the opening he had just exited the elevator from. They held assault rifles across their chests and wore metal face masks for intimidation. Urban grays and blues made up the camouflage pattern on their military grade uniforms. Helmets left over from whatever wars these two had seen sat on top of their heads. Bullet proof flak jackets held ammunition clips and grenades to their torsos. Gerhard had also stepped off of the elevator now, and stopped next to Ivan. He pulled out his side arm and handed it to the closest of the two guards. “Very tight security.” He didn't need to explain that. Each guard also had a metal chain linked around one of their arms. They secured the ends to Ivan's and waited for a few minutes. Two more guards appeared from the darkness that was the corridor they now stood in. One of them signaled for Gerhard to follow him at the front, the other was going to bring up the rear. They must have had some kind of communication devices, Ivan hadn't heard a word from any of them. The guard next to Captain Gerhard handed him a set of odd glasses. The four guards proceeded to flip down similar looking devices from their helmets. The one light that had been flickering above them went out. Ivan felt a wave of fear surge through him, almost as real as the chains he felt pull him forwards. “I don't like this.” He couldn't see anything, the small space smelt damp and dusty. Ivan felt like the hall was getting thinner. He tried compressing his body as much as possible, but the chains on either arm kept him walking forward. “Just keep walking, Ivan.” If that had been an attempt to calm him, it hadn't worked. They continued on for several minutes, turning here and there. When the lights came back on, they stood in front of a steel barred, wooden door. Two more guards stood on either side of it. The one who had been walking with the Captain walked forwards with a key, which he inserted into a padlock. It clicked, and the two guards on the side pushed the door open, bringing their rifles up to cover their prisoner. Ivan followed the captain in. All six guards that they had acquired stood their ground outside of the room. The door shut behind them, and they were encased in darkness again. It was warmer in here then it was in the corridor, and the hum of machinery could be heard. It still smelled musty and stale though, just like everything down here. “Goddamn it.” Ivan muttered. “Afraid of the dark, Ivan?” A new voice. Powerful sounding, yet frail. The lights came on. They stood in a small room, about the size of the interrogation cell he had awoken in earlier. The walls were completely lined with computers and electronic devices, all showing different screens of information and views from various cameras. A man sat in front of the largest console. He was seated in an old wheelchair. Medium length brown hair, graying at spots, ice blue eyes that sent a chill down Ivan's back. He wore high ranking military clothing. Shined boots, sharply pressed pants and a coat jacket with several badges, pins and ribbons on it. He wheeled the chair around to face his guests. Motioning towards a steel table in the middle of everything, “Ivan, Captain Gerhard. Sit my friends.” “Who the hell are you?” Ivan asked without hesitation. “Ivan, how dare-” The Captain was cut off. “It's okay, Gerhard, our friend is misinformed it seems.” He wheeled his chair to the table, still motioning for the two to sit. Gerhard complied, Ivan remained where he stood. “I am Mr. Price Ivan, I created all of this.” “What is this? Your lesser beings don't explain anything very well.” Gerhard shifted in his chair a little. “We are survivors from the desolation. We all came down here to deal with the radiation of the above. Of course we weren't ever completely protected from it, but at least we could live on. It's amazing what a determined group of people can do.” “So this was all for survival?” “And it still is.” “Okay, so whats with the guns and security?” “We aren't the only group of survivors. We are merely the largest group. Every once in a while, we'd get attacked by renegade squads of soviet soldiers, driven crazier then us by the concept that they had been nuked by their own motherland. And we only have so much room and supplies, so-” “You have to deny access to other survivors. How friendly.” “We give them directions to other groups. The other groups wouldn't like that always though, so relations never really worked out. Our scavengers would be attacked. By there security forces. Soon we had to use full escort teams.” “So you need me to help kill survivors?” “No. Theres another side now in this world. Originally it was us and the other survivors. Now it is us, them and an incredibly well equipped force of hostiles.” “So you need me to get rid of them?” “Yes and no. We'd like to know where they came from. So far, all we know is that they are heavily armored, heavily armed, and have no problem in killing.” “Neither do you.” Ivan felt the need to point that out. Gerhard glared at him from his chair. “Thats different Ivan, we had too. You don't exactly have a clean slate either, my friend.” “I was trained by my teacher to-” “Survive?” Price smiled from his chair. Ivan already hated him. “Protect your territory? Basic instinct, Ivan. Your survival skills are a result of a mental breakdown and loss of your modern senses. All humans have become like that. All humans who have not found a shelter like ours. Animals with the only instinct being to survive.” “How many of these hostiles are there?” “Six or seven, no more then eight at most.” “Your joking.” “Do I look like a comedian, Mr. Ivan?” “You needed someone who had been preventing you from using half the whole damn city to help with eight hostiles? How many armed guards do you have in that hallway out there? Surely they could be of use other then guiding prisoners-” “Ivan, you are by no means a prisoner. You are the third person to see me in the last ten years. Believe me, if this was not important, if we had not a need for you, you would have died in that room on top the tower we found you on.” Ivan stood or a minute without expression. He took a few steps forward, pulling the chair out next to Gerhard. He sat down slowly and calmly said. “Tell me more.” |
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9:01 AM Jul 11
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Prologure and Chapter One, I need to revise and probably rewrite the rest.



9:01 AM Jul 11