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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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Naru: Pfft. D: Schaz: Thanks! Basil: Thanks Basil. I couldn't see where is my grammatical errors thought... I just keep typing whatever i think of. I have some problem on that, but i got though. C: Portal? Umm nope. Why? Does it sounds like from it? Mokou: Only one thumbs up? xDDDDD Thanks! Mokona: Yes Jack Frost is a myth creatures. xD And thanks! You don't have to second thoughts on the poor cake xD Just eat it. "Just eat it! Just eat it! Eat it, eat it, eat it!!" Pfft. It's a nice story! Like you said, keep up the good work! Oh. Is is.. loooooooooooooooong?! o.o *reads* That book has myth creatures?!! I didn't notice that! I've shouldn't buy it when it WAS on sale :C I can't buy it now thought. Not to mention i have 14 books more to be read.  I'm fond to the Sherlock Holmes one >w< I have one more story and it's done.. Hmm should i keep it or post it? xD
I claimed someone that I can't remember because photobucket is ended.
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-04 08:48:42 |
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Holkers: you've got some really good books there! And are those Simpson comics at the top? xDD "Just post it! ~~ ~~" (I can't be bothered to type out the rest, so fill in the blanks yourselves ^^)   |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-04 16:30:17 |
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@Holkers Well, the phrase "The cake is a lie" has become central to Portal; the plot involves the protagonist going through test chambers with the promise of cake at the end. However, she soon discovers that the cake would be an impossibility, as noted by a graffiti left behind by what seems to be a test subject that had died before her. It reads "the cake is a lie." Search it up on Wikipedia if you want a more elaborate plot summary. Just type in "the cake is a lie." And wow, Andy McNab!! I've just begun reading his works, and he is amazing! |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-05 05:30:16 (edited 2009-08-05 05:46:38)
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Basil: Somewhere at the back of my mind tells me that Andy McNab writes about soldiers and war? Oh, anyways, he's a really really popular author here in England as well- I'm considering reading some of his works too...~ Interesting... So, is Portal a book? Sounds good- well, anything with cake must be good :3 Did it say it was chocolate cake? And she would do all that for some cake?? I'll look it up when i have time ^^ Holkers: xDD Just noticed the foot at the bottom of the pic- found that hilarious for some reason :) EDIT: *entrance music* I have returned after doing my research! ^^ - ahh, so it's a game? Sounds really interesting.. but sinister O.O lol |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-05 21:39:49 (edited 2009-08-05 21:40:26)
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here is another teaser of my project.... actually it is my version of an existing anime/manga named Boogiepop Maybe this would be a fanfiction though or something.... Boogiepop: Phantasma Roa “Kizuna, Reikou†The teacher looked at the students that did the same, the teacher sighed seeing that the boy’s seat was vacant “Where in the world that guy could be? This is his 5th time absent†*-*-* “KYAA!!†From the shadows, a chain suddenly binds one of them and throws on the wall hard, the group was startled, out from nowhere a cloaked figure appeared that instantly beat them up, the group immediately recovered “Who are you!?†But silence was heard, the cloaked figure stood firmly “Answer me you, #!@&#*@&#*!#(*!†They attacked him one by one, but the figure evade their attacks with an ease, however one of them recovered and delivered a blow *-*-* “Beat Disruptis†With a blink of the eye, the chains pierced their bodies in random, then the chains began to dissolve, letting the bodies fell to the ground but a strange glistering object was left slowly floating, the figure reached its hand, it took for the object twenty seconds to land in its palm “Just I thought… They were taken to the edge of their desire†The figure noticed _-_-_-, her eyes widened as the figure *-*-* “B-Boogiepop? Y-You are him?†The figure pointed two of its fingers, _-_-_- was surprised, the bindings around her broke off, her body became loosen and relaxed, the girl faced the figure with fear “I was called by that name before… †And thus this is first contact of _-_-_- with a figure named Boogiepop  --> |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-06 21:57:35 |
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Wow! I hope I have more books to read^^ my story^^: -------------------------------------------------------------- Aaron's father coming in, he looks worry,"Hide everyone! Hide! the Duke is coming!" The Duke, named Alferd is a very cruel. if someone couldn't pay the tax (which is very expensive) he would take the whole family and sell them as slaves. Aaron hide as fast as he could, in the wardrobe. the Wardrobe has a little space between it's door, so he could see anything from there. then, the duke's coming into the house. "Mr. Fitaerk! I hope you don't forget that today is the time to pay the tax!" "Baron Alferd... Please! I don't have any money yet..." Smile appear in the Duke's face,"then, I have to take you family in!" "Sir!..." "Don't try to stop me, because this' not my fault!",the Baron said happily. He clap his hand once and soldiers going into his house. Aaron's father filled with anger and attack the Duke, but the soldiers stop him and the Duke, after took a sword from one of his soldier's hand, cold-bloodedly cut the head. Aaron feels his head hot like burnt, screaming, he jumped out from his hideout and attack the duke bare-handly. the soldiers stop him and one of them cut his hand. some soldiers come from other rooms, taking Aaron's sisters in. they seems scared. then Aaron's mother coming in. when she saw her husband dead body, she get shocked and dead. "burn these two with the house! and bring the girls to my room. that little boy must put in the prison. tommorow we will sell him with other slaves... one handed might be cheap, but I don't care.",then the duke laugh horribly. Holding his right hand (the one that get cut), Aaron get escorted out of the house. he see how the soldiers prepare to burn his house. (to be continue^^) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------  |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-07 02:56:20 (edited 2009-08-07 02:57:11)
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@KMrevolution - Interesting, though I don't quite understand it too much because I haven't read Boogiepop before ^^a haha. I look forward to your project in the future :] @Shaz - a little confusion of words when you wrote "then, I have to take you family in!" a little bit of small grammatical errors, furthermore; at the end, you have a little chain of short sentences that are a little jumbled up. Other than that, interesting storyline :] hope to read moar! @Question: How ridiculously long can a story be when writing for one post. Can it be from start to finish, or post in segments? Just a harmless question :]  |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-07 15:25:50 |
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@Mokona Aye, Mr. McNab writes about war, taking his first-hand experience in The Regiment (Special Air Service, or SAS) as inspiration. That is what makes his works amazing! Now that you've done your research, you should look up what the cake looks like. >:D @K. M. Interesting teaser to a new project. I'm a bit confused, given the fact that I'm not familiar with Boogiepop, but, as it is the case with other books, I'll come to understand the standards of the story. I'd like to see another full-length story in the future. @Schaz A prelude to a story fueled by vengeance. Aye, there are quite a number of errors, but with a bit of work you can solve those. @Mokou Well, you can do as you wish with your stories. Take a look at my work, for example. I posted it by segment, a chapter every week, but that was months ago. Now it's on hiatus. Some earlier posts had the whole story posted in one go, beginning to end. |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-08 08:41:52 |
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Well... I'm aware that my translation is not as good as what I hoped... @Mokou:when the barons said,"then, I have to take you family in!" I mean to put them in the jail before sold as slaves... @Basil:fueled by vengeance? hmmm.... I'll try more than that^^ |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-09 12:31:54 |
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K.M.R: good one! ^^ Schaz: well done! A bit gory, but interesting story! Basil: ... i didn't realize there was really a cake O.o but it seems it should look like this:  Yummy! ^^ |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-10 22:40:23 |
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OMG I once again somehow pressed the shortcut for "back" on my laptop..... darn it! I was almost done too!!!! /fist *ahem* anyways, Ayou minna! Sorry for not posting much, so I can only make up by commenting! @ Rasatya: That's a detailed prolouge. Well, maybe I'll take a crack at fixing it like everyone else has later. ^^ @ Mokona: Whee! Mokona writes again! Well, your entry is pretty outside the box in terms of the setting/situation. No! Mokona! Dont go for it! THE CAKE IS A LIE!!!! @ Babun: I realy liked your first story. Characterization was done pretty well though the diolouge between the two. And overall it's cought my attention. Hope to see more! The second one was a bit redundant due to the 'he' and 'she' overusage. @ KM: I was utterly confused with boogiebob phantom anime. Couldn't understand it.. :( @ Schaz: Yays! Vengeance stories are one of my favorite plotlines too! There are some grammatical and spelling errors. Now, this is where I go into mega literary dissection mode! Ignore if it starts to sound offensive! Stories like these can be really interesting. However, the drawback is that it's kinda been used... a lot. There's been a hero with his sister's taken away, there's been a hero who's parents where killed... it's just been done. But, that's not to say this kind of plotline cant still be interesting! Ugo believes in the law of detail corrosion: which basically means the more detail you put in- the more the reader gets immersed into the story and forgets it's a used plot. IN reality, all plots are the same. There's a beginning, middle, and end... there's characters... there's places... but then we have our genre's, and different stories. It's all been done before, but what'll set your story apart is how far you go to explain it. Here's a similar thing I did with Karuzo, using a plot like your last entry. The boy's parents where killed, and had his sisters taken away, at the hands of the malicious duke. ...Okay! Maybe if we explained it even more! Aaron, a young timid boy who lied in the village, lived a peaceful life. He had a strong father, who loved his family, and a caring mother who loved her family the same. Aaron, despite being weak, possessed a strong will to someday rise up and be the one to protect his family when he got older. However, his carefree days where shattered, when the Duke arrived. Taking the lives of his family and kidnapping his sisters, Aaron faced a new, grim reality to be sold as a slave. It was then that he dedicated himself to avenge his parents, and make the Duke pay for ruining his life. Though this is kinda also has been used it still sounds a bit more better due to the detail! The reader isn't going to care for someone they dont know. It's like seeing an ambulance going down the street. You feel bad, but it isn't as bad a feeling as it would be if you knew it was your best friend or the like being rushed to the hospital.   |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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Urmm.. this is sort of a fast post. xDD Since i'm having my exam week, i better post something interesting here.. Basil: Oh.. I see. Well then i'll check it up once i'm done with exam week xD Yes. Andy McNab works are awesome. It's a good reference for those who like to write about Military. I first read his book was his latest book, Boy Soldier. Mokona: Lol sure i will post it now. And yes it's the Simpsons comics xDD Lol everyone said that. xDD K.M. revolution: Booggiepop? Boooogiepop. xDD i just like that word/name. I can't really understand that, but it seems it's interesting! Nice work KM! Hope to see more! Schaz: Hmm.. it's interesting yet a sad story. It does seems something i read before in a book.. But anyhow, it's quite different then yours! Like it! Hope to see what happens to Aaron and his sister! Mokona: The cake is a lie!! D: Ugo: I'm Holkers. xDD Babun was a little nickname. Sure there will be more xDD I'm still trying to find a nice plot of next chapter for my life-time novel. Oooh? Well then.. i guess.. it's still good right? xDD Here's the story of mine and the following version of "hers" xDD You'll know once you read it. Read which ever you like, the first or the second. It won't "disturb" the story much xD. The Corner (his) I still remember that day where I meet her. I didn’t have the chance to ask her to be my girlfriend. We met at a corner. She was running from the clothing store while I was walking out from the coffee shop. Before I could even make a turn towards the clothing store, she bumped into me. All of our things dropped to the ground with a little splash of my hot coffee. She screamed and I jumped. Everybody was looking at our direction. She bends down quickly before more of my coffee could even soak her paperwork. I bend down and quickly apologize to her. I can read by her look that she thinks that she’s in trouble with this wet paperwork. The only thing that I didn’t realize was her face. She was beautiful. I was staring at her for quite a long time when suddenly she stares back at me and asked if I could past her paperwork. I snapped out of my daydream and quickly gave her paperwork back. She smiles at me and said thank you. Before she could even start to run off again, I offered her my help to rewrite what she had done. Which I was deeply regretted of her hard work paperwork. It was bundle of it. She was going to say yes but instead she said no. I insisted that I should help her out, but she was in a hurry. I had to let her go and walk back to the long queue of the coffee store to get a new coffee. The next day, it happen the same thing again. But this time, she was walking with a bag. Before I turn I stopped and check the other side. She was doing the same thing too. Funny it seems. We laughed and introduced ourselves. She had a beautiful voice and name too. I have to admit that. Her name was Lina. I offered her a cup of coffee, but she refused. And again, before I could ask if she was free by tomorrow morning, she started to walk again and ignored my question. How stupid I am. I’ve should have chase her. But again I let her go. Déjà vu I’ll say. It happened again. Oh no, we didn’t bumped or even tried to check out if the road is clear. We stopped and before she could started to move, she waited for me to check her direction, which I did. A man has to make the first move. An advice I keep it in my mind. She laughed and quickly I offered her again, a cup of coffee. This time it was my luck! She agreed. We sat down and had our own favorite coffee on the table. We question each other a lot and I did make another first move, where I started to flirt with her. In fact, she was doing the same thing too! We were falling in love. “Hello?†“Hey it’s me! Remember?†“Urmm… Matthew?†“Yep! Hey I was going to ask— “Same time same place.†“Uh… What?†“You are going to remind me to have breakfast with you again tomorrow. Aren’t you?†“You read people’s mind easily, even on the phone.†“You read people’s expression easily, without thinking twice.†I grinned at that statement. She knows me more then I could even know her. It’s been about a week. We’ve been meeting only in the morning. I called her at noon just to check out if she remembers it. Lately, she’s planning on something and was too busy to go out with me on the evening. That’s all I know about her work. The truth? She’s a gardener. I followed her only a day to check if she’s fine. Satisfy of what I’m seeing I started to run back to my office before my workmates thinks I’m slacking off. But the happiness has come to an end. I remember clearly as if it was yesterday. It was a rainy day, Sunday. The clock has strike noon. She was waiting me inside the coffee store. This time, she agreed with me to have a date on noon. I called her up and said I’ll be here in about 5 minutes. She told me to take my time and knew that I’m stuck in a traffic jam. I quickly parked just a few miles from the corner we meet and started to walk. I took my baseball cap. I was looking at the ground and I took out my notes from my pocket. It was a speech I’ve been working on. The speech was about asking her to my girlfriend. I’ve been failing to do that for so long and today am the right time even though the weather isn’t. I didn’t realize I’ve missed the corner. All I knew was that I was lying on the ground and she came right by my side. There was a hint of pain on my head and my legs. The rain drops on my body and so does her tears falling from her eyes to my cheeks. She was screaming at me, but I couldn’t make out a word of what she’s trying to tell me. The next thing I know, I was looking at the corner and the memories flush though my brain and I slowly closed my eyes and lay there, unmoved. Always (hers) It was a bright summer day as I was watering my bright red tulips in my garden. I kept looking up at the sky, the soft breeze blowing against my hair, and the neighborhood, so peaceful. I couldn’t help but shed tears. I tried to resist, but they dripped from my eyes onto my cheeks themselves. I tried to ignore it too, continuing to water my small garden. I stopped and just, suddenly, break down, kneeling and crying. I can’t stop thinking of him. My garden was pleasant but had a mood of sadness; after all, they did live. I went in and dried my tears, and I changed into a casual outfit. Thinking to myself, I grabbed a few things and walked out of my house. I ignored all the compliments and attention, just to walk to this coffee shop I did not go a lot. In fact, I never went there at all if it hasn’t been for him…he was the reason I cry too… Sitting down with a cup of black coffee, I opened my bag and took out a couple of wallet-sized pictures that I kept inside the secret pockets. I stared and it for a while remembering the memories. It was a pictures of me and a guy named Matthew (I called him Matty since he let me) posing like idiots. I took a sip of my coffee, leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and remembered… I met him the first time when I bumped into him. I was such a klutz. I was receiving paperwork for my sister from a clothing store so she can fill out. I ran to try and hurry since I was late for my job as a gardener. I bumped into Matty by accident and his coffee poured on to the paperwork. We both helped each other and I was really embarrassed. I saw his look in his eyes when he stared at me. I was really shocked though. He didn’t look at my breasts since I was kneeling picking up the paper work, but at my face, thought it was kind of awkward. Once finished, he asked if I needed any help. I had to hurry so I had to say no, and sadly didn’t even get his name. I just ran off, remembering his face, though I hoped I would see him again. The next day I was getting my sister’s uniform when the same accident happens. I was really embarrassed and at the same time in despair since it was my sister’s uniform. Thankfully it didn’t stain and I was in relief. I introduced myself to Matty as he did to me. He was taller than me, and very charming indeed. I couldn’t help but blush and walk off quickly. I remember that he was trying to offer me coffee but I walked off. I hated doing errands for my sister. Then again, I loved the fact of how I keep seeing Matthew. At least we didn’t bump into each other, we looked at each other’s distance and I couldn’t help but look at him. “I can’t believe it, he’s here again! Gee, I don’t know what to do…gah,†I thought to myself. He then came over and asked me for a cup of coffee with him. Since I was so curious of Matthew, I accepted. It was my first time at this café, and I sat down with him at a window seat. The café owner recognized Matty since he order their coffee almost everyday, and the owner looked at me. He let both of us have coffee on the house. I was surprised, but I had a feeling Matty was having a happy day. We started out with the simplest questions, “I’m fine, and you?â€(^^) To the most complex, “Don’t you think it’s like “déjà vu†how we keep bumping to each other?†(=x) “Maybe…or did you wanted to bump into me?†(;]) To the most hilarious questions ever! [censored] Totally i had to censored this part xDDD It was a fun, flirtatious chat we had. I even blushed at times. I couldn’t help but fall in love with his looks, his humor, and his…well everything! I was hoping he was feeling the same too. I gave him my phone number and took some pictures with him using my camera. He then asked me out on another coffee break. I couldn’t help but say yes. He walked me home, and I kept having a lovely dovey feeling in my heart… A few days later, the day before the date, I was thinking about asking him to go out with me, when I had a phone call. It was Matty. “Hey it’s me! Remember?†“Urmm… Matthew?†“Yep, I was going to ask-“ “Same time same place.†“Uh… What?†“You are going to remind me to have breakfast with you again tomorrow. Aren’t you?†“You read people’s mind easily, even on the phone.†“You read people’s expression easily, without thinking twice.†I couldn’t help but laugh as we had that talk on the cell phone. I couldn’t wait to meet him. I knew soul mates weren’t real, but I felt like I had a connection with him. Were we meant to be? It was stupid but I believed that for a while… Sadly, some of my time was going to be gone. I had a phone call at 3 in the morning for a major project to create the city’s garden at the center of it all, the park. I began planning out many things, from what dirt to use to what birds should be released. What I didn’t remember was my time with Matthew. I only met him in mornings since he helped brighten my days. At nights, it was busy me with a crew. A teardrop suddenly fell to my cheek as I remembered my final memories. It was a rainy day, and since there was rain, my work day was cancelled. I agreed with Matty on a date with him at noon, and knowing by the rain, there was traffic. He called me and I told him I would wait for him at the corner. When he got there, we walked around and talked, as usual. Only thing that was different though, was that he kept looking at the ground. I kept looking at him, trying to see if he was sad or mad. I also tried to cheer him up by bringing up funny events. Sadly, he had a serious look on his face. His mind was dazing off; he kept walking in an unsteady beat, slow then fast. He almost bumped into a tree if I had not grabbed his arm. I should’ve been walking where Matty was walking if I had known he was thinking too much. He forgotten to turn at a corner when I turned and he got into a car accident. I quickly screamed and try to run and push him, but I was 4 steps too late. I ran over to him and saw him. I told the man who accidently ran over him to call the ambulance. I was kneeling at his side, trying to get him to open his eyes. “Matty…open you’re eyes please…please!!!†I kept pleading for him to open them and tell me he was ok. He never did…he never tried…I kept crying as he died slowly at the scene. I couldn’t make sure he was safe…and my stupidness killed him. A few days later, before his funeral, I received his items from the hospital to return. I got his wallet, his blood-stained clothes, and a note. I opened it slowly, trying not to rip it since water has been on it. I slowly opened my eyes again, drying the tears on my cheeks. I sat back up and grabbed my coffee, taking big gulps of it. I took out the notes. And I read them to myself again slowly. “Lina, I know we have been only talking to each other Meeting each other in the morning and waking up to These crappy days we have. To tell you the truth, your Looks captivated me, but your words pierced my heart With love. I was hoping, you can be my girlfriend. I won’t Guarantee that I will try to never make you cry, but I will Be there whenever you need me. So even if you don’t want Me to be your boyfriend, I will still be there for you Lina. So will you be my girlfriend?†“Matty…yes…†I said to myself quietly. “I’ll always love you… Always.â€
I claimed someone that I can't remember because photobucket is ended.
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-11 09:08:32 (edited 2009-08-11 09:08:59)
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Holkers: T-T That was such a sad, but brilliant, story! I liked how you wrote it from both their perspectives! It's a truly great romance story! ==' So sad... ~ Mokona: *tries to touch cake* Ugo: *slaps Mokona's hands away* Mokona: >< NO fair!! Lemme have some!! Ugo: No! Mokona! Dont go for it! THE CAKE IS A LIE!!!! Holkers: She's right you know... Mokona: ): the whole world's against me. Ugo:.. meh, can't really disagree with that. Mokona: *tries to touch the cake again* Basil: *brings out gun and points it at Mokona's hand* it's alright Ugo, i've got the cake covered ;) Mokona: No fair!! >< I hate you guys T-T |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-11 13:46:53 |
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@Holkers A romantic tragedy, eh? It was exceptional! The differing point-of-views give more insight to the readers. And Andy McNab. I've learned a lot from him about how to make a first-person POV story more interesting. And some Brit cussing. @Mokona You know I won't point a gun at your hand. Kneecaps are more painful. >:D |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-12 10:55:42 |
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@Holkers: Pretty good :D I really liked it. Then again I like eve3ry story lol. So...I updated the main page xD. and i cant belive we survived for 6 months lol. Good job guys xD. ~Doomlight 
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-12 19:22:47 |
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@Holkers - Interesting, I haven't read too many romance novels, so I can't trust myself to do any criticism of the kind :] har har har, not that it would be any good anyways xD My opinion though? Lost of short sentences; I kinda liked the stories though I didn't understand some parts, like for your first story, I assume the man was so infatuated with the girl that he had an accident causing in his death? Interesting way of writing it to allow us to visualize what happened using our imagination. |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-13 07:37:10 |
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@ugo: a long comment... but, thanks @holkers: good one! hope to see your next writing |
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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Mokona: Thanks xDD Actually.. you tell you the truth, i really meant by "hers" as someone. It's a story and work between me and Shiki. She's the "hers". I'm sorry if i'm late mention that.. But i was in a hurry xD Thought you guys would found it out.. xDD Looks like i need to really put the credits xDD Basil wouldn't shoot your hand nor the cake.. the just bomb the cake. End of the fuss. xDD Basil: Thanks very much Basil! That day i felt something terrible and i felt guilt and so i wrote that story for "her" xDD And she leads the other part of the story xD My best part, the Brit cussing. xDD Oh yeah, it does stuck at my head.. Doom: Thanks very much Doom! I was wondering when are you going to put my story on the line xDD But i don't care much about it.. Just care my stories xD 6 months?! Wonderful! Mokou: xDD You should read some romance.. Maybe.. hmm.. A Walk To Remember? xDD LOL. Okay maybe not THAT book. xDD Yes, much true. Thanks very much Mokou. Maybe in the future i might do this genre of story. It maybe not my field but i'll try. Schaz: Thanks Schaz! Am doing a new one now. Just waiting for the inspiration to come. Finally, i done reading The Kite Runner about 3 days.. Exam week xDD I think my next story would inspired from that book. Can't wait to see what will my fingers and brain gives me xDD
I claimed someone that I can't remember because photobucket is ended.
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-14 07:36:26 |
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@holkers wow! cool! i like the romantic story you wrote!XD (^_^)v kakkoi! 
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Re: Writers Club/Guild
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on 2009-08-14 13:25:58 (edited 2009-08-17 16:26:31)
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@Holkers You felt "guilty?" That piqued my curiosity... Brit cussing stuck in your head too? I say it's quite as colorful as, if not more than, Yank cussing. Finally, after months of being in hiatus, I am able to post the continuation of my story. To make up for lost time, I'm posting in two chapters. Chapter 2 would be the last chapter in the Crackshot Continuity, as Chapter 3 will start a new act with a new character. Well, here goes the filler that is Chapter 2, and the beginning of a new continuity that is Chapter 3. Chapter 02 "Careful, now." Dr. Schwartz need not tell me to use caution, as I am well aware that the impertinent scrap of paper laying on the petri dish is actually a sample of ancient papyrus, a recent discovery. Slowly, I lifted the papyrus with a pair of fine tweezers, removing it from the solution it was in initially, taking care not to screw up this and, ultimately, the chemical tests our team has to do on this scrap. I lay it on a dry petri dish. "Now, lay it gently on the table." I complied, bringing the sample sent in by Dr. Schwartz' colleague, Dr. Clark, to the examination table. This is the last sample of a batch that Dr. Clark had sent us, so we observed utmost care in handling the small piece of ancient paper. We were also facing a deadline of two weeks to finish the research, so we also had to make sure that we move with haste. After having successfully transfered the sample to a colleague without mishap, I let out a sigh of relief. Though I'll discover it was too early for that. The door suddenly swung open as Zippo barged in. "You guys done yet?" he asked, unaware of the serious business of what we were doing. Now that I think of it, he wasn't informed of what we were supposed to do today. Unfortunately, my colleague was easy to fright; as soon as Zippo barged in she accidentally dropped the sample on a chemical-filled beaker. We all stared as the sample slowly disintegrate into froth. "Mein Gott!" cried Dr. Schwartz. Frankly, he could've said something that would do more justice than that. But before I could even say anything... "Geez, Ray, why do you always have to mess things up!? a colleague said in frustration. Elaine, whom our team fondly and mockingly calls "Mother Elaine," is always the first one to reprimand someone when a mistake is made. Of all the people in the team, Zippo is the one who had the most lectures heard, though he never changes his cover of being the goofball. That said, he just stared blankly into "Mother Elaine," not really listening to what she was saying. With all of that done, I could do nothing but look as if I'm disappointed, when, in reality, I'm bored. After that last job in Napoli, I flew straight to Stuttgart to meet up with Dr. Schwartz. He offered me a job before we parted ways, as I still have to deal with the boss and his men. Surprisingly, I had no problems with them. I arrived in Stuttgart, expecting accomodations and employment. I also had a private bank account set up, where my accumulated wealth is deposited. It was really hard to convince people that I'm a businessman who just had enough of the business and left. Now, having arrived six months earlier, Zippo became my tour guide. He was going with the identity of a certain Ray Brody, and so he gave me my cover identity - Arthur Brody. Franlky speaking, I didn't know where the hell he got the name, but it works. A phone call to Dr. Clark saved Zippo's skin; the archaeologist said he can spare more samples, but someone has to fly to Cairo and get them. I volunteered, seeing this as an opportunity for an escape of sorts. Zippo, however, was not yet forgiven, so it was decided that he would treat everyone to a bar. He immediately agreed, something that does not surprise me. He's really quite a drunkard. Of course I didn't join, as I have to prepare for my departure. I walked by myself to the apartment, getting a feel of my surroundings as I make my way there. Everything felt normal until I was almost near the front door. My instincts tell me I'm being followed, so I went past the apartment and headed straight for the business center. I made sure that my pursuer saw every turn I make, while I checked every reflective surface to see if someone is following me. These I have gathered - he wears a black suit, he is following me, and he seems to have a gun, judging by how he fidgets his hand inside the jacket. The last one would be a problem. Having arrived to my target destination, I dash into a dark alleyway, which I hope would make him move with haste. He did, running after me. In the middle of the alley, however, he did a double take, as I had hidden myself well. As a precaution, he took his gun, a silenced HK USP45, and scanned the surroundings. I exploded from my hiding place and slammed him on the wall. A quick twist of the wrist relieved him of his gun, which now was under my use. I slammed the butt of the gun on his temple, just so enough to disorient him. "Who are you?" I demanded. "Who are you working for?" "Go suck my b-" Before he could finish up the insult, I slammed his head on the wall. "Don't try my patience," I growled, tapping the end of the suppressor on the back of his head. "Ad kalendas Graecas," he spat with a haughty laugh. Before I could even comprehend his words, his mouth began to foam, and a few seconds later he collapsed, dead. Great, just what I need - a nutjob with a cyanide pill. That left me with a lot of unanswered questions, but I was sure of one thing - someone's after me. And I might know who. Act 2 - Inspector Alcott Chapter 3 Five in the morning. Stirring in a bed that was never mine. Reaching for the goddamned alarm clock that was bugging the hell outta me. Waking up in some room that I first laid eyes on last night. As I press the button on the alarm clock I scanned the room with half-awake but attentive eyes. My clothes are still neatly stacked on the couch. The curtains are still taped down, and has no indication of being moved by someone or something. A quick check under my pillow confirmed that my service pistol, a Browning PRO-9, was still there. Everything seems to be in order in this hotel room. It's been almost a week since a new and more powerful Interpol called me, which I first regarded with dread. Setting old grudges aside, I was to be sent to Naples to help solve two cases. The first one was about a notorious necrophiliac who terrorized Europe, kidnapping girls and all over the continent. Initially, Europol was to take this case but Interpol butted in with evidence of earlier but similar activity in the United States and parts of Mexico. The evidence pointed out that the same bastard was behind it. The second case was rather an interesting one. The dossier, marked and treated as "Classified Information," contained pertinent documents and photographs sourced from all over the world - the United Kingdom, France, Italy, Germany, Netherlands, Hungary, Russia, China, the United States, Canada, even Cuba and Venezuela. A high-profile politician who had his head practically blown off during a memorial motorcade. A senatorial candidate found hog tied in the trunk of a car that sank in a river. An influential humanitarian found charred to the bone, her teeth the only proof of her identity. The list goes on in this case. A series of separate events. That was how each was treated until some nutjob suggested that this may be the work of a single organization or entity. I don't know what he'd been sniffing , or how the hell he came up with such a ridiculous idea, but thanks to him I'm in Naples when I'm supposed to be hiding. Only later did I realize the reputation of that nutjob regarding having his outrageous ideas turning out correct. The latest addition to the dossier was about the death of Antonio Verdi, a famous magnate in the food industry. It seems like a hapless courier was hired to deliver a parcel by hand, and then everything just went boom. The courier was lucky to escape with both arms blown off, various burns, and a state of comatose. He was lucky, for the magnate was blown to pieces. Interestingly, his half-intact head flew off and landed smack in the middle of a nearby park. The local police station was a chaotic sight, as officers rushed in to do something. The man in charge, Superintendent Guiseppe Costanzo, was quite a friendly man; he ushered me into his office with a smile. At first he was in such a conversational mood, but when things came to settle he went straight to business, as if a switch inside him was flicked. "Here," he said, going through a drawer and pulling a folder, "are what we have in file regarding the case." I had to hand it to him, his English was good. The folder contained documents and grainy photographs of the crime scene, evidence, everything. I read the first document, which seems to relate that the attack was sort of a suicide bombing. Wait, a suicide bombing? When I examined the evidence, it does make sense. "So, let's get down to business," I said. "Please explain to me a few facts about this case." "Of course." He cleared his throat. "As you've read in the first sheet, our primary suspect is the courier, Enrico Scopoli, who 'delivered' the bomb. Mr. Verdi receives quite a number of gifts, so he did not suspect the courier." He pointed to a photograph in the dossier. It was of a large scrap of paper with burnt edges, the word "Venerdi" clearly printed on it. "Venerdi?" I read out. "Venerdi, or Friday, was the day when the bombing happened." He took a sip of his coffee. "That scrap of paper covered the parcel containing the bomb. It was spared from the explosion by this," he indicated a photograph of a metal plate with a charred top. "Similar pieces of metal were found lodged in the walls and the victim's torn body, but none from the courier. It seems he was protected by the same plate." "So, it became the shrapnel of this bomb. But how is this scrap of paper significant?" "That paper has the fingerprints of one man - Signore Scopoli. Only his, no one else's. That is our main evidence against him." "I see your point, but there is a possibility that the mastermind had been smart enough to avoid placing his fingerprints on the paper," I argued. "Besides, the solid metal plate must have been placed there to implicate the courier whether he survives or not." "I could see where you're going, but the public is outraged at the death of Signore Verdi." He paused. "Signore Verdi was much loved by the people because of his kindness and compassion. The people wants retribution." We both fell silent. I contemplated on the new information I've gathered. It just doesn't make sense, seeing that the people does love Mr. Verdi. After that brief silence, he tapped a document in the dossier. "It contains the analysis of the bomb according to one of the crime labs." I read out the contents. "Cyclotrimethylene trinitramine, diethylexyl sebacate, polyisobutylene, SAE 10." It came to me instantly. "Composition 4 plastic explosive." "Precisely, but did you notice what was missing?" I read again the list, and noticed something was indeed missing. "The taggant?" But before he could confirm my guess, an officer suddenly entered the room and told the superintendent something I didn't understand. I can't speak Italian, but I presume it was of utmost importance, as Supt. Costanzo's eyes widened. "Signore Alcott," he turned to face me, "we are going out. Signore Scopoli had finally awoken from his coma." The hospital where Enrico Scopoli was being treated had a heavy police presence. It's not as much to prevent the suspect from escaping, but to protect the suspect himself. So far the police had prevented various attempts at Scopoli's life. This meant I had to surrender my weapon to the guarding officer, even with my proper identification. The officers guarding the door to the room was more heavily armed - full riot gear and a FABARM SDASS Tactical 12-gauge shotgun in hand. I flashed them my ID to gain access. "Inspector Lawrence Alcott, Interpol." They ushered me inside. Supt. Costanzo was already conversing with Scopoli when I came in. Judging from the look of things, Scopoli was already informed he was a suspect in the case. But when he saw me, his expression of shock and sorrow suddenly changed into rage. As if he was being possessed by a demon, he quickly stood up and started screaming at me, letting out words I can't even understand. It took three officers to suppress him, as he gave quite a fight with his stumps for arms. While this was all happening, Supt. Costanzo talked to him. He answered quite aggressively, pointing a stump at me as he let out a storm. "What is he saying about me?" I asked. Supt. Costanzo turned to me with a grave but confused expression on his face. "Signore Alcott... he is telling us that you gave him the bomb." The benches placed outside the hospital were placed rather conveniently, as I sat there facing a scenic view of the setting sun. However, thoughts raced about in my mind regarding what happened earlier. A couple of minutes outside the room calmed down the bugger. He was repeating, insisting that I gave him the bomb, but when he got a closer look on me, he corrected himself and said that I look like the bastard, only that he was younger by a decade than I am. My hunch didn't make sense, but I told Supt. Costanzo that I might have known the suspect anyway. He looked like he wanted to ask me about it, but I beat it to him. "He must be the brother I never saw since I ran away from home," I told him. Well, more like "I shot a fellow operative and escaped the wrath of the boss." I was snapped back to reality after hearing the sobs of a little girl. She was crying in front of a tree, and when I looked up I saw a teddy bear tied to a balloon. Both were out of her reach, but it was easy enough for me to get, so I did her this small favor. She held the balloon on the string and flashed me a bright grin. "Grazie, signore!" Just then a distraught young woman came from some place and thanked me in passable English. She turned out to be the mother of the Cecile, the little girl. Ever since that day, I became a good friend of Cecile. She always flashed me that same grin whenever we met. It was puzzling at first, given that I am not a real human being, and I understood little regarding human emotion. The past week was uneventful. No breakthroughs in the case came to us, so I proposed to have a cartographic sketch of "my brother" made with me and Scopoli giving out the description. The results turned out to be almost an exact match with each other. There were also chance meetings with little Cecile, who would always greet me with a wave and a smile. It was through these small encounters that I slowly learned that though most grow up to do monstrosity, every human starts out as a kind soul. "Signore Alcott! Get back, it's dangerous!" Supt. Costanzo's words did nothing to stop me from stepping into the front lawn of a psychotic necrophiliac's house. The armed officers behind me watched me step into the range of the bastard's submachine gun. Almost immediately he opened fire, but I was fast enough to reach one of the windows and jumped in. Only yesterday did we receive an update about the necrophiliac. An anonymous tipster had identified him and pointed out his location to us. I warned Supt. Costanzo, advising him to carry arms. It turned out that I have given the right advice. But what gave me more reason to go out was that the bastard had kidnapped little Cecile. And now, I find myself taking numerous rounds to the body as a respectable-looking foreigner let loose on his submachine gun at point-blank range, his face a twisted mess of deranged euphoria. However, it immediately changed to an expression of fear as I aimed my Browning PRO-9 at him. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't die that easy," I said as I shot him in the kneecap. Boom goes the kneecap, and he collapsed on the floor, howling in pain, howling for the knee that would function no longer. What did he know about the fact that I'm not human? He stared at me with eyes full of dread as I step closer and closer to him, my blood flowing out and making an eerie trail. As Supt. Costanzo and his men were not informed that the suspect was down, they were still waiting outside. That meant I still had my time to make my own "investigation." I grabbed the bastard by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up. I produced a photograph of Cecile from my pocket and flashed it on his face. "Where is she?" I demanded. He feebly pointed to the basement, and so I dragged him with me. The basement, with the lights turned off, looked normal, so there has to be a secret door or something. "Where?" I growled, tapping the barrel of my gun on his remaining knee. It was good that he was cooperative; it didn't take much to make him pull a book from a book case. It was something out of a movie, where you just pull a book and the whole case slides sideways to reveal a secret compartment. The book happened to be Goethe's "Faust" - an interesting choice. The room inside was pitch-black, so I didn't know what was slicked all over the floor, making it slippery. I tapped his knee again, and he pointed to a wall. I let him flick a switch, and the lights turned on. It was a sickening sight. A tiled floor covered with blood, the stench suddenly becoming apparent. Barrels placed on one corner of the room, all but one having a seal. The one that did not had dismembered limbs sticking out. And in front a table slicked red with blood, and on that table lay a naked, ravaged, and mutilated Cecile, her eyes staring dryly into the infinity of death. I realized that I would no longer see her warm, beaming grin again, and that really affected me to let my anger take over me. I took the sonofab*tch by the arm and threw him into the basement. I purposely slammed my foot on each step to rattle the bastard, and I was rewarded by pathetic whimpering. Good. I pulled the trigger again, and his good knee erupted into a mess of blood and shattered bones, the .40 S&W doing what I wanted it to do. Not having satisfied myself by the state the bastard was in, I took his left forearm and jabbed the elbow, bending it an an unnatural angle with a sickening crunch. I even dislocated his right shoulder with a quick jerking pull. By the time Supt. Costanzo and his men breached the house, the sick bastard already had peed himself to unconsciousness. Quite uderstandable, given what hell he endured. He was sprawled on the moist carpet, his joints bent at unnatural angles it made the officers cringe. Supt. Costanzo ordered his men to call the paramedics. "By the way, where's the missing child?" I pointed over to the secret chamber. "Why, she's over there," I said with a rather empty tone. He hastily went in to expect a terrified child, but he stopped short of entering. He hung his head low, his fists shaking on his sides. "We were too late," I told him. It was a bit later that Supt. Costanzo noticed the twenty or so holes on my body, and, thankfully, he didn't ask me if I was okay. We also agreed that I would break the news of Cecile's fate to her mother, something I did quite bluntly. It was through these experiences that I slowly understand the ups and downs of being human. With the necrophiliac now in custody, we focused on the Verdi murder case. We sent in the cartographic sketches to various pertinent countries, and almost immediately we got a lot of pings, mostly from airports. Photocopies of passports with different names came in, but they all had the same photograph as the sketch. Judging from the dates on the passports, his most recent trip was to Stuttgart. That's where I'll be heading to next. And so, on the plane flying to Stuttgart, I ran through a number of things on my mind. Enrico Scopoli was no longer the object of the people's wrath, but his name is yet to be cleared. Supt. Costanzo didn't ask me about how I survived what turned out to be twenty-six bullets in the body, and I didn't even thought of bringing that up. The necrophiliac has been sentenced to death. If I had my way, it would be slow and painful. Cecile's funeral happens today, something I regret missing. But my job calls. I was never reprimanded for what I did to the necrophiliac, and I didn't even bother asking about it. I had forgotten to remove the tape on the curtains in the room that I slept in. Would it be a bother to the cleaners to see taped-down curtains? |