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(This is my second attempt to actually write fiction, if it gets to the chronicles, I would be very thankful and very surprised!)
Of course it was perfect; he had planned everything out to the immeasurable detail. The gnarled granite boulder perched on the hill, as if ready to finally come rolling down. The afternoon sun hit it at an elegant angle that made, the shards of quartz glisten, but more importantly the rays left a small shadow no more then two meters long hide on the leeward in. As if the darkened crevice could not hide him well enough, the latest active-camouflage battle dress uniform covered him from the worn out combat boots to the crooked and dusty wide brimmed hat. His usually handsome features were masked with the black smears of old shoe polish and his bright blue eyes were hidden under the opaque black sun visors. Propped up against a small crevice, his Auroran hunting rifle lay carelessly but purposely prepped on its bipod. Everything was following the plan he had set out weeks ago. Around him, the wild grass blew listlessly in the balmy summer breeze as the sun hung almost lifelessly in the thick humid air. Josh stared straight into the heavens, searching and waiting for the vessel to come careening out of the skies carrying his target. He checked his wrist computer, its bright luminous dials clicked the seconds away and read 16:58:43. Only a few seconds separated him from completing his mission and from finally getting his revenge. He cast an eye on his rifle, he had better get ready. He gently grasped the handle and quietly pulled back the bolt revealing the weapons inner chamber. Bolt action rifles had long since been antiquated by the new and ever improving blasters. Despite his advance preparations, he had to get his hands on something quickly and this weapon was still unsurpassed in accuracy and reliability. He reached into his deep trouser pocket and pulled out a needlelike round. Efficiently, he placed the 5 millimeter slug in the chamber and slid the bolt forward, charging the rifle. He slid up to the opening in the crevice and pushed the butt of the rifle hard into his right shoulder. Despite the padding and his fatigues, he knew that the hand held rail gun would still leave a horrible bruise, but if that is the only price he had to pay then so be it. The hundred powered electronic scope glowed a weak green as he flipped it on and focused it on the cracked, crumbled landing pad more then ten miles away. He thanked whatever deity there was, for the clear day and he waited. The whine of the single overpowered Star Shot supercharger engine reverberated off the rocky hills as the fat wedge shaped space craft, coasted to the valleys floor. The usually graceful craft, struggled to maintain a stable path through the planets lower atmosphere. Without any from of air foil, the best the ungainly craft could do in the atmosphere was emulate a beached whale as it approached the landing pad. Three retractable landing pads poked out from the bottom of the vessel, simply adding to pilots task as he tried to bring the craft down easily. It nudged the ground not too softly but held together as the landing gear groaned under the weight of the immense mass. The fierce whine of the RAGE gun ships engine faded as the main hatch opened. Joshs interest spiked and his finger grew tense around the trigger, only seconds separated him now, only a few seconds. His mind drifted back to when it all began, ten years ago to the day. It was a balmy summer day much like this day, he thought. He was only twelve and life despite all its faults was still a wondrous innocence. His mother, brother, father and two sisters were just seated at the mahogany table in the front room of their small house when it happened. The white French doors shuttered with three hard knocks that were accompanied by those few harsh words. Federation Bureau of Investigation. Open this door! His father gingerly slid off his chair and approached the door to let the five heavily armed men in. What reason did he have to fear them? He was only a small time business man who owned a meager shipping company. Before he could reach the door knob, a steel toed boot kicked through the double planes of glass and snapped the heavy door off its hinges. As the planes shattered on the white tiled floor, three of the men charged into the house, assault blasters drawn. One leveled the deadly weapon at his fathers fore head, as the two other pointed at the seated family. All the men wore the protective police armor common to the bureaus urban warfare units, and this made them all the more fearsome. The tall man with his leveled blaster on Joshs dad face opened his mouth to speak and uttered the sentence. For crimes against Humanity he said firmly and with that, all three men opened fire. How Josh survived, he could never actually figure out, but when he opened his eyes again he was in a sterile hospital bed in a glossy white room with no windows. He looked down at his chest and saw a matt of gauze bandages and to his left in a folding chair, sat a kind looking man in a heavy trench coat. The doctors will be glad that you finally woke up. he said with a small smile. My family are they The words clung hard to Joshs throat as full tears welled up in his eyes. Suddenly, the man looked grim There will be no funeral; there never is, when these type of people are involved. Your family simply does not exist anymore, and you are lucky we found you when we did or your name would be added to that long list What list? Joshua interrupted. Your family has been added list of atrocities that the bureau has committed in the name of human kind. The grief overflowed in Josh and he lost control of his emotions. It was the last screams of child forced all too early into the pains of adulthood. The man stood up and bent over the boys wrenching form. He dug into the trench coat pocket and produced a single card which he forced into the youths small hand. Take this, when you recover your senses, call the number on it. With that the man left the room. Joshua Brian looked at the card through wet eyes and made out two words hastily scribbled on it. Frandall and Rebellion That was the last time he had ever cried although he had been tempted several times afterwards especially during the intense training. He joined Frandalls Rebellion against the Bureau, and excelled through all the challenges. He later learned that his family had paid the ultimate price when the officials learned that his upright father made human aid runs for a blockaded rebel planet. This almost tore him from the cause, but he then heard more of the Federations atrocities and this hardened his resolve. He spent the rest of his ruined childhood training in the calestine arts and even became the rebellions most deadly special warfare expert. After that, he served with distinction for two tours of duty with the Vacuum soldiers, but none of it could quell his needs. He was lost and angry; however it all changed when he overheard a conversation in the Koria stations bar. A man and a woman snuggled close together and sipped at the stations famous drink, the rebels delight. What of the other survivor, what happened to her? she asked, through her auburn hair as she snuggled her thin body against her companion. Apparently, she went back to her old job, she was one of those higher ups in the intelligence agencies back at earth. The young woman sipped the drink eagerly, and then looked at her close friend eyeing the fuzz that desperately tried to grow on his bald head. I dont want to remember that horrific ordeal, but wasnt she suffering from intense radiation sickness? The man took another swallow of their shared delight and shot an answer back, obviously the drinks legendary properties did not take effect yet When we got back on my ship, I did a medical scan on all of the Mistresss survivors, she was pretty badly beaten up and at best she would require regular care just to stay alive Josh could not keep himself away from the two and even though it broke all of the rules behind secret operations he approach the two and asked. What was the womans name? The man looked up at him suspiciously, wrapping his arm tighter around his woman, and burying the other into his pocket, and then, as if the thought had left him, he loosened up and replied. She never told me her first name; she had a rank though, something like captain, or sergeant or colonel. His eyes were glazing over as the alcohol quickly seized his mind. Yes, Yes but what was her last name? Josh implored desperate for a lead, an answer, before the man was lost in the pleasant stupor he was drinking himself into. Crane replied the man like a Herein, or one of those types of birds From there, it had been relatively easy; Josh simply found a renown but recluse treatment center and watched for any suspicious activities. Now, he peered through the scope down at distant gunboat and at the opened hatch. Commander Krane was the head of the Bureau in its entirety. If she would cease to be then the organization would collapse or at least that is what, Josh Bryan hoped for. In any case, it would be a major blow to them and would ease the pain he felt for the loss of his family, if just a little. Two guards dressed in protective riot gear stepped out first and proceeded to search the immediate area. They would never find him in his distant hiding place. She then stepped out, her uniform clinging tightly to her body. No one would ever believe she was a radiation victim; she was beautiful, disgustingly beautiful. There was not one imperfection down her lengthy body and she stepped gracefully to the entrance only forty some feet away. Although he was a great distance away, Josh focused in on her; the weapons onboard computer drew a small green circle around her elegant head and drew a line to exactly where he needed to aim. Josh knew the computer had already calculated all the variables, from the curvature of the Earth, the speed of the shell, her velocity, and his response time. He adjusted ever so slightly and placed the cross hairs at the end of the drawn line. Finally, after a decade of pain he would have his revenge. He exhaled, making sure he was perfectly still, and pulled the trigger.
Awesome. Just awesome.
One thing: I think your transition into the flashback could have been better, but other than that...
------------------ Man have pity on man
Most impressive, young Skywalker.
Flashback needs a bit more transition, but 'tis good.
Cheers, Guapo
------------------ "Quote it, paraphrase it, soak it in peanut oil and set it on fire. I don't mind in the least." - forge Founding Member of WORRPBOITAMPSH (url="http://"http://guapohq.jonpearse.net")GuapoHQ - for all your Guapo needs(/url) (url="http://"http://insanekp.tripod.com")The Insane Klown Posse Website!!!(/url)
Yes, good. Very good. I want one of those rifles in a video game or something.
------------------ You know, I was going to let you become part of my most erotic fantasies, but you can just forget it, write it off! I keep thinking there has to be something better out there, because if there wasn't, I'd just curl up in a larval position and weep.
I am impressed that this made it! The reaction so far is decent so I will try to post some more short stories based on the EV universe. My signature and the couple who told him about Krane are from my first story. I may post that if there is any chance that Ambrosia and readers are willing to put up with a 25 page survival/ horror flick centered around the Wraiths.
------------------ In one hand he held his Sunspot 210 spot light and in the other an old M-40 machine pistol blaster; to slaughter any blood sucking aliens. He smirked, for someone who had just hit twenty-three he really had an over active imagination, he repeated what his mother used to tell him. There are no aliens, just ferocious monsters under the bed. Come to think of it, she was a very bizarre woman.
Very nice job, Interloper... but, there are a few problems. --Semantics--You use commas far too much, although that doesn't at all detract from the story. The other two gripes I have are with your sniper. First, I believe that the proper way to fire use a sniper rifle is to take a deep breath, let some of it out, then hold it. Only after firing do you continue to exhale. Otherwise, the motion from your chest throws off your aim. Second, the man seems to be a proficient sniper. There is no way that he would drift off down memory lane when his target is almost in his sights. I think your story would be more believable if, for instance, it was a very hot day, and Krane's ship had not yet arrived. He looses consentration waiting for it, remembers, and is starled awake by the roar of the RAGE's engines in the atmosphere. Despite what it may seem, I very much enjoyed your story. Keep up the good work.
Quote
Originally posted by Interloper: I am impressed that this made it!
Heh, you're welcome.
Originally posted by Interloper: I may post that if there is any chance that Ambrosia and readers are willing to put up with a 25 page survival/ horror flick centered around the Wraiths.
25 pages? Yeesh... if you could break that down into smaller, bite-sized chapters, that'd be preferred. If you absolutely must have the entirety of the story all together, you can do what another author has done in the past, and post the first page or so to the EV Chronicles, with a link to the rest of the story on another site (for example, he had a 42-page PDF that had all of the story, but only posted a teaser here).
Keep up the good work.
------------------ (url="http://"http://www.evula.com/")EVula,(/url) your friendly (url="http://"http://www.evula.com/")self-promoting(/url) EV & EVO Boards/Addon/Newswire/Chronicles moderator (url="http://"http://www.evula.com/")evula.com(/url) | (url="http://"http://www.evula.net/")evula.net(/url) | (url="http://"http://www.evula.org/")evula.org(/url) | (url="http://"http://www.ev-nova.net/")ev-nova.net(/url) :: (url="http://"http://forums.evula.com/")Lair Forums(/url) (url="http://"http://pftn.evula.net")pftn(/url) | (url="http://"http://dreamwave.evula.net")dreamwave(/url) | (url="http://"http://davidarthur.evula.net")davidarthur(/url) | (url="http://"http://ucplugs.evula.net")ucplugs(/url) | (url="http://"http://jager.evula.net")jager(/url) | (url="http://"http://stark.evula.net")stark(/url)
(quote)Originally posted by EVula: **Keep up the good work.;)
------------------ Man have pity on man **
Oh my GOD! It's EVula!
I kinda did the same thing with mine, only I just posted the links to the other parts on these boards.
------------------ Ie amh thuh ilitterit rietur. Kimi wa baka desu.
Originally posted by Avian: There is no way that he would drift off down memory lane when his target is almost in his sights.
He might...I mean, it's professional work if he's being paid for it. This looks like a personal, pro-bono job.
Thankyou all for your comments, supports, and constrcutive criticism. I will revise my first work so it flows better and is more readable, hopefully it will be on the boards in a month.
Not to burst your bubble... but any story of reasonable length that isn't totally terrible makes it. That said, if there was a requirement for "goodness," (I really need to work on my vocabulary...) this would make it. Trust me.
(quote)Originally posted by Rawzer: **Not to burst your bubble... but any story of reasonable length that isn't totally terrible makes it. That said, if there was a requirement for "goodness," (I really need to work on my vocabulary...) this would make it. Trust me.:p
By the way, Guapo, I said PROFICIENT, not PROFESSIONAL. Also, he is, unless I am mistaken, in the employ of the Rebellion, and Krane is a high ranking Bureau officer...yeah, it's personal, but he might be getting paid after all. ---(Sorry, don't know how to do quotes)
Another way to solve the 'problem' would be to have a line like this- "Joshs interest spiked and his finger grew tense around the trigger, only seconds separated him now, only a few seconds. For the thousandth time, he pictured Krane exiting the spacecraft, planned his timing, and envisioned the death of the woman he hated. He gave a half-smile, baring his teeth at the thought of killing the woman--no, the MONSTER--who had killed his family." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ End of chapter/segment, Cue Flashback. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Our hero kills Krane, end of story
Again, great story, Interloper, it's just that the part with the flashback kind of bugged me. You seem to have been at a loss for other ways to include your history, so I am trying to help you out. If you want me to F off and let you do it your own way, say so.
-Avian
All criticism is welcomed,:-) This is just for fun and maybe to learn a little more as far as fiction goes. Besides, I could not stand knowing that I have sci-fi material written and just sitting on my hard drive, without people ever knowing about it, whether it is decent or poor. Again,thankyou for all your comments.
(QUOTE)Originally posted by Avian: (B)By the way, Guapo, I said PROFICIENT, not PROFESSIONAL. Also, he is, unless I am mistaken, in the employ of the Rebellion, and Krane is a high ranking Bureau officer...yeah, it's personal, but he might be getting paid after all. ---(Sorry, don't know how to do quotes)
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I saw what you said. Being good at something is being proficient, but you don't have to be professional about something you're proficient at.
A good sniper can be emotional about a target...he's just not supposed to be.