City of IF

[DeadManWalking]

here it is (a little long though).

THE PROLOGUE

The man in the crisp black suit sat in the spacious office, on the two-hundred and seventy-fourth floor of the tall white building in the middle of the city. The window looked out onto the squat museums surrounded by the beautifully spiraling office buildings weaving through the clouds. The view was fantastic, and was the main feature of the otherwise simple room. Many of the workers, stuck in their little cubicles, many floors down, liked to believe that they would kill for that view.

Some of the previous occupants of that spartan room had.

But the man in the crisp black suit with his newly pressed trousers was not looking over the City, enjoying the view. Rather, his attention was on the man before him. His mind raced through the conundrum he faced, his attempts at the better exits blocked by the constant reminders called morals, eventually coming to a solution that he would not have liked.

He asked the man before him a question, putting off the answer that he knew he must give, fervently hoping that the answer would somehow change the inescapable order that he knew he would command.

“How long does the Chrono Division think we have?”

“Sir, they don’t have any idea. Something’s blocking them. And our best estimate is around ten years. However, the surfacing of a power of this magnitude is unpredictable. Gerald Kublat was recorded to have emerged at six months, and he was nowhere near the power level of this child. The Board suggests immediate action.”

The man in the crisp black suit sat down slowly, and asked for the papers that needed to be signed. He reached without looking to the jar of pens that sat constantly near his shoulder. He picked up a red one. How appropriate.

After the eradication documents were signed, the assistant left the room, hurrying in his eagerness to do his job, bringing the documents to their recipients.

The man in the black suit sat in his swivel chair, and turned it towards the window. He didn’t look at the gracefully spiraling towers or down at the teeming mass of humanity rushing through the city whose job his was to care for. He looked out to the horizon, to the red skies surrounding the setting sun, lost in his agony of guilt and anguish.

And as he suffered silently, with the weight of millions on his shoulders, the pen in his hand broke under his rigid fingers, and crimson ink stained his hand


Darkness hid me as I watched the shadowy shapes on the other side of the quiet street. They were crowded around the door of one of those new Corporation Condos, the ones that had been selling so fast these last few years. One hunched over the doorknob, the others glancing fleetingly up and down the street, trying to appear unremarkable. They weren’t doing a very good job, but it didn’t matter. No one was watching. Except for me.

With a muted grunt, the shape at the door popped it open, and they entered quickly, all but one. This one seemed the most nervous, jerking his head around suddenly in an attempt to surprise hidden observers. I waited for what seemed like hours, but I heard nothing. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. A scream shattered the midnight silence, followed by thuds and bangs and less feminine shouts. The thug at the door turned, growling, becoming rapidly more defined as spikes and other thorny protrusions grew from his torso.

Suddenly with a bang and a flash of fire and lightning he hurled back from the doorway, hitting a telephone pole on my side of the street. A man hurried out, wearing only his pants, followed by a woman clad in a nightgown, carrying an infant child. He fired several blasts of energy back at the doorway, hitting some of the shapes running out after him, of which there were far fewer than I had seen break in. Still, there were far too many for him to defeat, even fueled with the anger and desperation of a man whose family is in mortal danger. The woman simply ran, protecting the baby. Towards me. And towards the hulking spike-covered behemoth that rose up to block my view of what happened next. I heard several more bangs, then the deeper cracks of gunshots, after which the bangs noticeably ceased.

I ran out towards the fray, my hands glowing with the energy I was charging up. After a moment, I unleashed the lethal torrent of crimson light on the behemoth, who crumpled to the sidewalk without a head. Now I could see what was happening. The man who had been throwing lightning was lying on the ground, with blood lying around. I was not close enough to see the numerous bullet wounds he most-likely sported. There were now several of the woman and the baby, all running in different directions. As I watched, a bullet whizzed through the arm of one of the women with no effect.

Mental projections.

There were still a few shadowy shapes left, shooting indiscriminately at the several women running through the darkness. As they saw their compatriot fall, several of them turned and shot at me instead to distract me from the rest, who fired at the projections still. I launched my beams of light again into the shadowy mass and heard a cry, then a muffled thud as a body hit the pavement. The shadows cloaking them vanished, replaced by faces and uniforms.

I didn’t need to look to see the insignia, on their jackets; it had been burned into my brain for many years.

There were five men left. Three focused their energies on me. One transformed, in a similar manner as the corpse on the opposite sidewalk had, except that where the first had spikes, this one had armored plates. My other two opponents kept their human forms, firing wildly at me with their guns. As I ran, I shot more of my bolts of piercing light, vaporizing the flying bullets with precision borne of years of practice. As the armored hulk charged roaring at me, I dodged and swerved, taunting him, staying just out of reach. He ignored the running projections and the bullets bouncing off his hide, concentrating solely on me as I struggled to scrounge up more of the energy that I was using so profusely in blocking the bullets headed at me. Eventually I hit on an idea. I jumped onto him, over his grasping hands and, using his head as a springboard, launched myself past the remaining four men. The beast, driven to single-minded intensity with my taunting dodges, barreled through his own allies going for me, leaving most of them moaning on the sidewalk. I dove to the side and watched as the behemoth crashed into the front of the building with his skull, bouncing off stunned. I burned a hole under his arm and through his rib cage, destroying both his lungs. He collapsed onto the ground.

I turned searching for more adversaries. There was one man left. His panic-stricken eyes, moved wildly, searching for a way out without death. He started to run, accompanied by the still scurrying phantoms, firing randomly behind him in a futile effort to dissuade pursuit. Suddenly the projections vanished, as suddenly as they arrived. Ignoring this, I raised a hand over my head. Another beam of light flew from it, lancing into the darkness. This time, however, it stayed a solid beam of light, extending as far as the eye could see into the darkness. The running man was becoming harder and harder to make out in the night air and the perpetual smog. I swung my arm down like a guillotine, and the scarlet sword of light came down with it. The beam swung down towards the man, separating his right hand, holding the now useless gun and most of his right leg, from the rest of his body. They cauterized instantly. He screamed in pain, and fell to the ground, clutching at the useless stump of his right hand, as I walked slowly to where he lay.

I picked him up by the throat, lifting him above my head, my eyes glowing red. I searched his face for any sign of recognition, but saw only panic in his eyes as he struggled wildly. Disappointed, I started to turn away, as my hand glowing red, the energy cutting through his throat. His blood quickly evaporated from my still-hot hand.

I turned back to our battle site, searching the ground slowly with my now-brown eyes, looking for the woman who had produced the phantom images, fearing the worst. I saw her near the alley I had hid in, a bullet in her forehead. The last man must have hit her as he fired wildly at me. I also saw another wound in her leg, explaining why she had not run herself, instead of creating the illusions. I started to turn, but heard a sudden wailing break the dead silence. I saw the baby that she had carried in life, beyond her grasp. It had rolled from her dying fingers. I looked at the boy, the cause of all this commotion, and I wondered what he could do, that would cause the Corporation to be after him already.

I picked up the bundle and walked slowly back to his new home.

That is my prologue. Yes, it is a little dark, but it fits my mood, what with Crunchy Frog leaving and all.
I would appreciate any comments, and also suggestions for a title.

[Chinaren]

Cool Deady!

[LordoftheNight]

Pretty cool start there Deaders. Just one point - it may have just been me, but the attacked seemed a little...easy to defeat. You might want to make sure it doesn't just become one man defeating entire armies with one hand behind his back.

[DeadManWalking]

well, that part was a little... extreme.

But I just felt the urge for a good action scene.

I admit it was a little too easy though.

[Guest]

This reminds me of bioshock. This is a wonderful prologue. I like the two point of views.

[DeadManWalking]

Here's the first chapter. Btw, I just want to clarify that the italics from the prologue are not part of his dream.

Chapter One

I woke from my sleep, remembering my dream of what had been done over a decade ago. That was how it always was these days. Every time I slept, I dreamed, and every time it dreamed, I remembered. At least it wasn’t… No. I shivered, although the air was warm. I was done with tears. I would never finish mourning but now was not the time for tears. I pulled myself together and walked out of the room I slept in. It was small, but it was clean, and it was better than the mass barracks that most of the Insurgents had to sleep in. I walked to the kitchens of the small buildings. It was one of our bigger outposts, actually inside one of the Cities. Mostly, we were spread out in small groups, except for some of the training camps in the countryside. But this was our base for most of the raids on the Corporation. As I walked into the communal dining hall, I was greeted by a resounding set of cheers. Another raid had been successful. Never mind that I hardly did anything, killing only a couple of the lookouts to allow the main force to barrage through. I had been there, and my reputation only inflated the rumors. I made my way through the over-crowded halls to the kitchen, collecting the usual tray of sludge and gunk, and sat where I always sat, alone except for a boy, now almost a teenager. He was the baby I had rescued on that long-ago mission. We had never learned the name his parents had intended to assign, so we called him Mammon, an ancient name dredged up from one of our older members; she was gone now. The boy’s parents had never even registered his temp name, so Mammon would do until his discovery day, when a new name is chosen by the power that is revealed. We ate in silence, as we usually did. Mammon was not a talkative child; there were rare children among the Insurgents, rarer still on a raiding outpost, and those unfortunate few were always forced to grow up fast. Mammon had seen as much death and killing as any rookie on this base, more than most. He had to. We were short on people, so everyone had to do everything. When we lost anybody, it was always a huge blow. But that was inevitable. We were strong, and well trained, and only the strongest and most experienced went on these kinds of missions, but the Corporation had the funds and the manpower, and they were learning fast.

I finished my breakfast and got up. There were always plans to be made and chores to do. And paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. Just because we were illegal doesn’t mean we didn’t keep track of people and objects. The Corporations had slipped a people into key spots here, and only luck had uncovered them before. So now, a trusted few watched the masses, looking for anything strange or out of the ordinary. Constant vigilance was required. There had been three assassination attempts on Mammon alone in just the last two years, from people we had trusted completely. The attacks during his earlier years had been almost constant. The woman who had named him, Nyssa, had died in the first attack. She had been one of our stronger members, able to control air currents. This didn’t help her when she accidentally stepped in front of a window between a sniper and the baby. Of course this just made us protect Mammon even more. If the Corporation could sacrifice so many undercover agents just to kill him, what talent could he have? It would have to be powerful.

I walked through the narrow hallways, edging by new trainees towards the Computer Corner. That was the unoriginal nickname of Noah’s office. Noah’s power was a minor one, echolocation, but his main skills lay elsewhere. He was a hacker, one of the greatest, near legendary. He was the one who had discovered the orders inside the Corporations mainframe to kill the child in the beginning, leading my mission to rescue him. But that was twelve years ago, and his skills had only increased since then. He looked up briefly when I entered, acknowledging me with a nod, while his deft fingers continued to trawl through cyberspace. I waited for a while. I may have been one of the more famous members on the bas, but he was irreplaceable. He was the reason why we hadn’t been caught for our thirteen-year existence. He had been with us from almost the beginning, way back when we were a nine, and was almost as much of a Founding Father as I was. He finished his latest intrusion and turned to me.

“No, there are no reports of any public events where the CEO is exposed, no there are not reports of any other major people either and no, there are no people that need a hero to swoop in and save them. So just take the day off will ya? You work way too hard. No one else has done as many missions in a row as you. You’ve been leading the last sixteen raids. You need to work less. Eventually all the stress will get to you and your head will explode. You don’t believe me? Remember Cyrus? He looked up to you. He went on every mission of yours, just as a private, and he ended up so exhausted that he couldn’t sleep.”

I closed my mouth. He had started one of his dreaded SPS (sentence per second) rants, and as he had already answered my inevitable query, I was content just allowing him to talk. He was wrong though. I couldn’t rest. There was always so much to be done. I decided I would drop in on a beginning class, just to see how the new recruits were doing.

“You know, you should just go out for a beer. I hear Joyce and Bink are going out for a pint. Why don’t you join them? You should join them. I’ll call them for you.”

The last three sentences had all been in the same breath. If he kept this up, he’d be gasping on the floor before long. It was almost a minute before I realized that he had stopped his tirade and had called Joyce, but I managed to refuse politely. I walked out of the room, heading to the training area. This had been the hardest part of the facility to install, because it had to be soundproof and extremely durable. It was the room where we taught new recruits how to control their powers, and how to survive a fight without them too. I entered the room, closing the steel door firmly behind me.

It was chaos. Complete and utter anarchy.

Fifty-three kids with powers all trying to experiment. I saw at least five different games of tag, two of which were literally freeze tag. We only had one instructor who would willingly allow this training method.

I looked for Karli, ducking under beams of energy and flying bodies, and found her in the corner, attacking a fort. Her sonic screams lashed the debris held together by the powers of one of the stronger kids, Magnus. Suddenly, a barrage of metal flew towards her. She focused her power, sweeping it across the hundreds of small missiles headed towards her. Where, her scream hit, metal disintegrated, shaken apart by the vibrations of her voice. Then the metal started dodging her beam, weaving in and out of complex patterns. Now she was forced to lessen the intensity, so she wouldn’t hurt Magnus, who now stood unprotected facing her. A scrap no bigger than a thumb hit her in the back of the head, making her stumble, and the rest closed in, but she managed to scream again, disintegrating most of the remaining metal as it closed in. However, she missed a spot, and it zoomed towards her eye. A beam of light shot from my hand, melting the metal.

“No fair!!! That was between me and Karli!!!!”

Magnus grew petulant. To be fair, it did look like he would have won. He had potiental.

Karli motioned me toward the door, walking over to Magnus to tell him what he had done wrong. His face grew sulky, as he listened to her words. I couldn’t hear her from where I was, but I could see what he had done wrong. If she had really been out to kill him, she could have simply pierced through the attack with a sonic lance and hit him.
I ducked, ripped out of my thoughts as what looked like half a cheesecake flew through the spot where my head had been. I scanned the room for the culprit, but I could see no one. A fair number were laughing though. I went to the door and waited. Karli joined me soon, and asked what I wanted.

I replied that I had nothing that needed doing, and that I thought I might be able to help with some of the beginner courses. I asked if all the training slots were filled. Karli was in charge of training at the post. She was one of the Founders, but almost all of the Founders had opted for work on the field, rather than at the main headquarters, except for Aaron Anderson. That was why most of us were here, at the raiding outpost.

Karli shook her head, unable to answer in the silence that had fallen over the room. I looked at Stifle, a young girl with the talent of muting her surroundings, raising my eyebrow. She grinned and shrugged and released her hold.

“So Karli, how is the training going?” I had to yell over the clamor of her students. “Need any help?”

“Nah. I’m fine. Got everything…” She ducked under a blue flash of energy, and paused to scream at one of the students, who went flying back into a wall. “…under control.”

I raised my eyebrow skeptically, but didn’t argue the point. “Fine. I’ll just go see what else there is to do around here. I really need a break from paperwork.”

I started to turn away, but Karli caught my arm. “You should take a break, y’know? You need to rest.”

“I guess you’re right.” I sighed. Karli was usually right. 'I’ll go to the pub with Joyce and Bink. He’s always good for a laugh.”

Karli smiled. “That he is. See ya!”

She waved and dove back into the fray.

I left to find Joyce and Bink.

The man whom they called Martin Cawthon, one of the Founders of the Insurgents, who thought of himself as a gambler sat on the stool, talking quietly with the youngster in front of him. They boy, whose name was Markell, was a fool, idealistic and innocent (although only relatively, no one in the Insurgents was really innocent), but he was full of almost a fanatical zeal, that almost never failed to spread to those around. He was useful. And he had a powerful talent. He could make himself unseen. He didn’t actually go invisible, but anybody watching simply didn’t notice him, whatever he did. Even if he bumped into someone, most of the time they didn’t notice.

He was always comparing his powers against others. It was a habit, something he had learned as a child. It was a fault of his, always measuring his talent against others. When he had confided himself to Chahad, the closest thing he had to a friend in this Insurgent camp, he had said, “I really don’t see what you’re worried about. You’re talent is pretty much unbeatable. Nothing can beat pure luck.”

Martin Cawthon’s power was luck. He was always lucky and it had saved his life a number of times. Once he had tripped on a stone just as a sniper’s bullet whizzed past his head.

The gambler, who sat on that stool in that almost deserted room, confided in that young rebel a different secret, one much darker. He knew of a spy, he whispered, inside the Insurgents. He didn’t know exactly who it was, but he was high, possibly even among the founding fathers.

The young man stiffened. He idolized the Founders, each a deity in their own right, in his mind. He asked the aging man sitting in front of him who else knew. The man said that nobody knew, but the young man had his permission to get one other person. Lantern, perhaps
Lantern was another of the younger members. However , he was dark to Markell’s light. He was moody, morose, and talked only when he had to. He had a brooding demeanor, and volunteered only when he was forced to. Slightly ironically, his talent was creating bright lights.

Markell contemplated who to tell. He didn’t much like Lantern, but if Martin had suggested it….


The DP is who to tell.
I know it's not much of a decision point, but I am saving that for next time,as this has grown rather lengthy.
So any suggestions for names and/or powers are appreciated.
Comments please.

[Guest]

How about this: Make it that she- Naima – Swedish origin, meaning “tranquility”(female, family member of Nyssa) Solidify air and she can speak to someone from miles away. As you said something about a voicebox, I'm not sure. What if she can store her voice in something, like lets say when you open a box, words will come out, like: "Today is the last day... bla bla" What would be cool if she was a mute and then bam one day when she meets you she talks. Loved this chapter, hope to see more come out.

Edit: Here is the names I've come up with for your story, "Into the fray", "Fury Within", "Fury's place"

[DeadManWalking]

Sorry for the delay. have a term paper. Am working on the next chapter. Have no time for proper grammar.

so I've only got one suggestion so far.

Which is Naima, who solidifies air.

Or we could just go with Lantern, who makes bright lights.

So far it seems to be an overwhelming majority of the readers favor Naima.

[DeadManWalking]

Everybody has powers.

That is the premise of this world.

(am mentioning that in the next chapter)

And while it is cliche now, I have ... ideas about the direction this will go.

It should turn out interesting.

[DeadManWalking]

Hey people! Working on the next part.

Have decided to call this "Fury Within", which was Crystal's suggestion.

Thank you Crystal.

And Also, as Hers is the only suggestion, I will most likely go with that.

So, no poll for this chapter.

[Design]

I came too late, dang it! I'll be waiting.

[Guest]

Yea, I'm so happy you like it. I'll hold my breath *holds breath*

[Tipico]

hi just thought id say that i relay like your work its fun and enjoyable to read

[Syranore]

Observe before telling, make sure that it is a good idea. As for the story, in places I thought it seemed a bit rushed. Maybe you should put a little more time into developing the main character, and the setting.

[DeadManWalking]

That's coming in the next part.

And the main character shall be developed through his dreams. (which are all flashbacks)

[DeadManWalking]

Here we go. Next Part.

A young man dressed in designer clothes stands in front of an expensive door. He holds two things in his hands, a bouquet of roses, and a twisted glass tube filled with a murky gas. He rings the doorbell and steps back.

The door opens, and a young woman in a bright green dress and long black gloves runs out to hug him with a cry of delight. He hugs her back, tenderly, then steps back and hands her the bouquet of flowers. In doing so, he almost falls down the stairs leading to the house. He catches himself, however, and holds up the twisted glass tube to show his love. His hands glow, and a red light, so pale that it is almost a red-tinged white, shines through the murky liquid, causing the glass to glow a bright pink. It is a heart.

I woke up. My eyes watered. My head ached from too many drinks, but that was not the reason for the tears that sprang unbidden to my eyes. I lowered my head to my hands, forcing myself to hold back the tears. I was done with tears. I would never end my mourning, but I had shed my tears long ago.

I had met Aliandre many years ago. We were both part of the social elite, those rich and powerful enough that talents didn’t matter. Our parents had been friends or claimed to be. Aliandre’s parents had decided it would be good for her to have a date for a party, so my parents, being the good, kind people they were, volunteered me. I had no objections, after seeing Aliandre for the first time. We went to the party, really a “social gathering” so that her parents had a reason to check up on people they knew but didn’t trust. That’s what her parents were like. It was awkward and boring, because she didn’t know that many people, while I was even worse off. So we sat in a corner, hoping to avoid more unpleasantries, and we just started talking. We talked about lots of different things, about the Corporation, about prehistory, before humans started having talents, about the Insurgents, who believed the Corporation was evil. We talked about my parents, and their new nonprofit organization, helping to train people in the safe use of their powers, about whether any nonprofit organization run by a major business was really nonprofit, or about whether anyone could really be trained, as talents repeated rarely. We went on to talk about her parents, in charge of a major branch of the Corporation, and why they were friends with my parents when they should see them as a threat, and about how her family was very conservative, sticking with older ways, celebrating older holidays, like Kristmus instead of The Founding day, and some other holidays that didn’t come up now at all, like St. Patrix Day and Valintyns Day. We talked for hours at that party, and we both enjoyed it a lot. We went on many more dates, and eventually she became the center of my universe. I couldn’t go a day without her, and longed to be with her when we weren’t together. We were in love. One image that was burned into my mind was from a Valintyns Day, when I got a friend of mine to make a heart from tubes, and extracted some murky water to fill it. Then, when she came to the door, I used my power to light it up, and it glowed pink. Yes, my power was lighter then. Almost a red-tinged white. It darkened after…

I got up and dressed, my hands moving automatically to the clothing in my closet. All the clothes in the closet were completely black. It fit me.

I headed out the door, and walked through the corridors. I didn’t enter the mess hall. I was not in the mood for breakfast.

I left the compound, nodding to the guards at the hidden entrance as I left. It was daytime, but you couldn’t tell that. The smog covered the sky, and the only light came from the streetlamps that cluttered the sidewalk. Everyone depended on the Corporation’s satellite clock. I roamed the streets restlessly. I started near the Corporation projects, the dodgier neighborhood of the City. Cars crawled past me. I heard shouting in some of the alleys, and some gunshots. I kept on walking. Eventually I got to the Colliseum.

The Colliseum was almost like something out of olden times. Men and women bet their lives in, or on, the fights. Fortunes were made and lost betting on the gladiator matches. There was also a casino attached, in case you were squeamish about blood and wanted to risk you money in a different way.

Technically, all this was illegal, but nobody shut it down. Only the Corporation had the authority, and they got too much money out of it. And it kept the people happy. Some of them anyway.

I entered the Colliseum through one of the massive archways, with my hands in my pockets, stepping around a screaming man being dragged out in chains. He clawed desperately at the ground, sobbing and begging for mercy, and life. As I walked past, he suddenly shrank, trying to get away. The manacles, now too big for his smaller size fell off, and he ran towards me. One of the thugs who had been dragging him clubbed him on the head and he fell unconscious. I continued walking.

I walked up the stairs, to the viewing section. Two thugs carrying guns stood outside the door. I started to walk past, and as they started to protest, I simply looked at them. My eyes started to glow menacingly.

They let me through.

And I emerged into the sunlight. Down below, two men struggled inside a huge glass dome.

I came to the arena often. It was a place where much of our recruits came from. Many of the fighters were desperate for money, and they had spirit. As I watched, one of the men was smashed into the glass dome, as the other exhaled. Even from where I stood, many feet away, I could see him start to glow.

This would be over quickly. It was probably only an introductory match. They only put up the glass dome up when there was either an especially powerful fighter, and last I knew, having super-powered lungs was not considered especially powerful.

I was right. A flash of light filled the dome, and when it cleared, only one figure stood in the arena. Where the other had stood was only a pile of ash.

Huh. He showed promise. Perhaps I should recruit him. Then I saw the insignia on the back of his suit. It was the Corporation’s sign. Unofficially, the Corporation trained fighters for the Colliseum. The publicity was great.

I left quietly, walking back to the base.

The Corporation Tower

It’s not fair. It’s never fair. I mean little things that really don’t matter to anyone always come back at you. I mean that time with the banana peels only hurt one person. And the thing with the frogs was really funny. And the blanket incident… well… that hadn’t been all her fault. How could she have known that the cat would go there? But it all built up and it was really unfair. And now she was grounded, and dad had been told. He hadn’t even come back to ground her himself. Instead, his boss had to do it for him. He didn’t even know her at all!

Sieme stalked the corridors of the Corporation Tower, wrapped in her furious thoughts. It really wasn’t fair. Maybe she should run away. At least for a couple days. That would show them. Maybe dad might even come home, if she stayed out long enough.

Yeah, right.

But it was worth a try anyways. What else did she have to do? Besides the schoolwork and stuff. And that ridiculous “play date” thing next week. Actually, the more she thought about it, the better the idea of a vacation sounded.

But where would she go? The financial and governmental districts were out for sure. Those were the first places that would be searched, and they were full of high-ups that might recognize her anyway. The industrial district might have some places for hideouts, but there wasn’t any food there. The residential districts did have houses and stuff, but she didn’t have key chips for any of the condos, so she wouldn’t be able to go there unless she managed to find someone to bunk with. The commercial district was filled with restaurants and other shops, but the police patrolled there a lot. Then there were the abandoned parts of the city, where no one lived anymore. Maybe if she hid out at the border of where the abandoned section hit the commercial….

She’d decide later. First things first.

Sieme started running excitedly to her room, eager to be off on her newest escapade.

About two and a half hour later, Sieme, dressed in the all-black getup of modern action movies, sneaked through the corridors of the Corporation tower. She also wore a rather large backpack filled with “necessities”. As she neared the front door, she peeked around the corner, looking carefully for cameras or any of the security guards patrolling the ground floor.

In fact, so absorbed was she in this pastime that she completely missed the man in the neat guard’s uniform who came up behind her.

“Sieme?”

Sieme almost jumped out of her skin, before recognizing the voice.

“JOSHUA!!!!!!!!!!” Sieme squealed in delight. “We never get to talk anymore. Ever since you started the guard duty and all. We should hang out more.”

The young man kept his face stern, repressing a fond smile. “And what are you doing in that… whatever that is. Shouldn’t you be in the classroom?”

“Well I was… But Ms. Caulfield started getting all upset about nothing. I mean she is sooo uptight. Even her aura agrees with me. All browns and grays and reds.”

That was Sieme’s talent. She saw things about people. Not like the future or anything. She saw emotions and stuff, and personalities. It was useful.

The young man raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was all browns and grays.”

“Well you’re a nice brown and gray. Not like her at all.”

“Nice to hear that. But seriously, what’s with the getup? And where are you going? I heard you were grounded.”

“Weeeeeeeeeeeell…”

Joshua sighed. “Are you running away? You know I can’t let you do that. I’m security now.” He tapped the shiny badge on his chest.

Sieme turned away. Joshua used to be fun and all. But that was before he went and became one of the Corporation lackeys. She had known Josh all of her life, and they had been friends since she was six. He was only five years older than her. But now he acted as if he was one of the adults.

“Come on, Sieme. Stop sulking. Being grounded isn’t that bad.”

Sulking? She wasn’t sulking. She never sulked.

“Sieme… Just go up to your room. I won’t tell anyone.”

Sieme glanced at Josh, checking to see if he was lying. His aura was brown and gray, with some white streaks. Probably telling the truth. No wait. Suddenly the aura flashed inverted, to red and yellow, with black laced through it. Then back, then inverted again. The aura pulsed inverted and back steadily, until it was hard to differentiate which was which.

Joshua gave a sad little smile. “When are you gonna learn to trust me?” His aura stopped pulsing. Of course. That was his talent. Reversing the talents of others.

Sieme smiled endearingly. “Of course I trust you. Why wouldn’t I trust you? Its just that sometimes I don’t believe you.”

While Josh was spluttering about this, Sieme made a break for it, running down the corridor and through the great glass doors of the Corporation Tower and then over the long bridge spanning the decorative moat.

And she was free!!!

But where to go next?


OK. The DP is rather simple. Where to go?

[Phantomfan]

I really like this! It is very well written.

i wonder, is there any way Sieme can get involved in the insurgents?

Can't wait to read more.

[Tipico]

its good i like it to, run to the abandoned districts I want to know why no one lives there anymore.

[DeadManWalking]

i have gotten two comments so far, so I think that I'll wait a couple more days.

[shy_blu_eyes]

To the projects, and perhaps the Colloseum?

It makes sense, "officially" no corperate types would be there and the casino would have restaraunts and a hotel. Plus, it never closes.

[DeadManWalking]

*sigh*

I would wait for mopre comments, but I must soon depart for a three-week internetless ordeal.

I apologize to all who love my story.

HOwever, as a special treat, i shall put up both a next chapter AND a poll.

the poll shall be for where Sieme goes, which shall take affect in the chapter after this one.

I apologize if this chappie seems a little rushed; if it is , that's because i too am rushed.

Have fun reading.

Chap III

Markell walked quickly through the corridors of the Insurgent junior barracks (or the Barrackita, as the senior Insurgents jokingly called it). It was a building that was made for hundreds of teenagers who were just growing into their powers. It currently held about twenty. Recruitment wasn’t going well. Markell, stuck his head into the room Lantern and Mammon shared. Lantern wasn’t there. Mammon, however, was at his desk.

“Hey Mammon. You know where Lantern is?”

Mammon looked up from what he was doing. Markell saw that it seemed to be a puzzle, about two-thirds done. Markell couldn’t see what it was, but he could see the remaining pieces. There was a lot of black.

“I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him for a couple hours or so. He said he might be in the workshop. Phil wanted to make something for him.”

Markell eyes instinctively raised themselves from the puzzle up to Mammon’s eyes.

That was a mistake.

Markell found himself sinking into deep pools of darkness, tumbling through the blackness uncontrollably, hearing shadows whispering of treacherous things and evil things, and worse.

After what seemed like an eternity, Markell ripped himself away from those wells of night. He mumbled something relatively affirmative, and stumbled out of the room.

What was that? That had never happened before. Markell had never shown a power. Ow. Markell stumbled against the wall. His head hurt. Had Markell’s power finally emerged? A
sudden spike of pain and a wave of dizziness, and his vision went black.

Markell woke up in the hallway. What was he doing on the floor? He stood up, and he swayed perilously. Maybe he was sick. He should talk to one of the healers. He got up and started to go to Lantern’s room. Halfway to the door, he remembered that he had already asked Mammon where Lantern was. The workshop. And something about Phil. Phil was always making things for people. That was part of his talent. He sort of… saw things about people. Only he didn’t really see it, and he could only express it through things he made. He had made something for Markell, once. It had been a glass arrow, totally clear. Markell still didn’t know what it meant, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Markell started walking towards the workshop, lost in his speculations about the glass arrow. He had puzzled over it for months, and had made no headway into his problem.

He was so absorbed in his speculations, that he nearly died of shock when Naima tackled him, squealing.

“Markell!!!! My god, I haven’t seen you in HOURS. Where’ve you been? I’ve been getting bored. All I’ve been looking forward to is that promise you made me. I was wondering if you’d remember. You’re almost late. You did remember, didn’t you?”

To tell the truth, Markell hadn’t remembered. He had promised to train with Naima in one of the empty classrooms. But with all of Martin’s talk of traitors, it had totally slipped his mind. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that. He wasn’t suicidal or anything. Naima was one of the more powerful members of the Insurgents, despite the fact that she was still a teenager, and in training besides. She could make things from air. Anything she could think of. She even managed to make a working mouth, with vocal cords and all. Granted she had also needed someone to blow into the bottom to make it talk, but it hand been cool. And she was also somewhat… hyper. There was no other word to describe it. If she had been on coffee, he didn’t think the world would survive another day. Even without the coffee, he was less than sure about his own survival.

Markell groaned. “Almost late means I’m not late yet. I’ve got time. Can you at least let me check the workshop first? I wanted to tell Lantern something.”

Naima raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Lantern? You never talk to Lantern. What do you want to talk to him about?”

“It’s… a secret.”

Naima’s eyebrow was rapidly rising higher and higher.

“You are going to tell Lantern, a kid you barely ever talk to, a secret that you’re not going to tell me? What is going on here?”

“Can we just stop by the workshop? I’ll… I’ll tell you later.”

The instant the words rolled off his tongue, Markell was sorry he had spoken. Naima would hold him to his word, and would be extremely hurt if he didn’t tell her. And he couldn’t. Martin had told him to tell Lantern only. Maybe if he asked Martin….

They arrived at the workshop. Markell, opened the door, poking his head in. It was empty. But Mammon had said….

Markell sighed. He would have to look for Lantern later. Right now he had a promise to keep. The sigh turned rapidly to a groan. He could already feel the bruises.

That night

The dreams continue, as they have every night for weeks. Or at least they start. A young man lies on a gurney in a white room. A young nurse stands by him. Her left hand is held in his, and their eyes are both watering. He bows his head and weeps, and she weeps too, for him. She reaches her arms around him, comfort-

Loud banging on my door wakes me from my dreams. I sit up hurriedly, swinging my legs out from under the covers and my feet touch the cold steel floor, my head in my hands. I wipe my eyes. Not the time for tears. Never the time for tears.

“What is it?”

“Sir, you’re wanted in the conference room. It’s urgent. All the Council is assembling.”

Why would the Council need to assemble? It was the middle of the night. Not many things could warrant that. Nothing below the emergency level of an immediate invasion, and that would’ve meant a lot of alarm bells going off about now.

I hurriedly threw on some pants and a long coat. Black of course.

Then, rushing out the door, I dismissed the teenager sent to fetch me and hurried to the conference room.

While I walked, I tried to concentrate my thoughts on why the meeting was being called. But the walk was long, and my mind wandered back to the dream. My parents died two years after I met Aliandre, the light of my life. The company my parents had owned had been absorbed into the Corporation, right after their “accident”. A plane had disappeared under suspicious circumstances. The first night, after, I accused Aliandre’s parents, screaming insults and blaming them for their jobs in the Corporation. I hated the Corporation after that day. I was thrown out, and it was made clear that I was never to step near any of them again. Including Aliandre. By then, I was legally an adult, but I was still a child at heart. The fortune that I had lived with, that I had taken for granted to be my inheritance was gone, collapsed with the company that was bought immediately by the Corporation, completing its monopoly of our world. I had never worked a day in my life. I lasted four months. Somewhere in the fourth month, I collapsed, far from anyone I knew, starving and sick and cold. That was how Aliandre came back into my life. She was working as a nurse at the hospital that I was sent to, when I was found. She worked there for free, not needing the money, wanting only to help others. Like my parents had. I met her parents once more as I was recuperating. They refused to allow her to see me, and arranged for her to be moved to another ward. I couldn’t blame them. I wasn’t even angry. At them. But Aliandre had enough anger for the two of us. And as soon as we could, we ran to a different part of the city. We were penniless, but these were the best days of our lives. We searched for jobs, and we found menial ones, hers at a vet’s office and me at a restaurant. Both were Corporation-run. Our salaries were poor, and our home even poorer, but life was still wonderful. We didn’t care. We were in love.

“Ray? You in there?”

Karli’s voice took me by surprise. I looked around to find that I had arrived. I had been too wrapped up in thoughts of my previous life to notice.

She looked like she had just gotten out of bed too, hurriedly throwing on whatever she could find.

We entered the conference room together.

Meanwhile

Markell woke up from a dreamless sleep, roughly shaken awake by frantic hands and an even more frantic voice.

“Markell. Wake up! Quickly!”

He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He opened his eyes to see, much to his surprise, Naima. He saw from somewhere behind her, two glowing yellow eyes in the dark. Leo. His roommate. He had eyes like cats, and could see in the dark.

It was at this point that Markell realized he was wearing nothing but boxers.

Naima ignored Markell’s mad scramble to cover himself, asking him intently (and still somewhat loudly,

“Markell. What were you going to tell Lantern before?”

“You woke me up for that? Jeez, Naima, it’s like one in the mor-“

Naima interrupted.

“Markell.”

Something in her voice made Markell pause.

“Lantern’s dead. They found him in one of the less-used parts of the outpost. His head was smashed in.”

What? Lantern… dead? But….

“Oh god. They must have found out I was going to tell him. Oh god. But to do that, they must have…. Oh god.” Markell focused on Naima.

“Naima, look. You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say. It’s-“

Naima shushed him, glaring at Leo for a moment. Then, turning back to him, she concentrated, her eyes growing a faraway look and turning white. After a moment, her eyes returned to their regular blue.

“There. I made a dome. So somebody wouldn’t overhear us.” She knocked on the dome she had constructed of air to demonstrate. It made a hard clunking sound.

She started to say something more, but Markell cut her off, telling her the whole story, everything that had Martin had told him.

He had to tell somebody, and if he could trust anybody, it would be Naima. She couldn’t be a traitor.

Right?

Back in the conference room.

The rest of the Council members present at the outpost were already in the room. Chahad, the oldest of them, stood at the end of the long oblong table, a frown on his face. Sitting at the table already were Victoria, Karli’s sister, Noah, and Martin. Chahad held a sheet of paper in his hands. As Karli and I entered, he started.

“As all of you know, we are not the only base that the Insurgents have. There was once many bases that dotted the city and the surrounding countryside. However, recent raids from the Corporation have lead to us abandoning most of these, until we only held two. The one here, from which all of our city operations are based. And our main base, on the other side of the city from here, which contains the main training facilities and the assault teams for heavy-duty requirements. We have operated like this for the last two years.

“As of today, we are the last Insurgent base.”

What? Our leader, Aaron Anderson, along with the other half of the Council were at our main base. Had they survived? I and others started to voice our questions, but Chahad raised a hand.

“I have no wish to go over the details twice. Wait and I will tell you.

“Our main base was attacked by ground and by air simultaneously by an attack force of about five thousand. They managed to take down most of the trainee barracks beforehand with just their scouting force, but the alarm was raised. Out of the six Council members there, only two survived. Aaron Anderson, and Simon Aaron. Of the four thousand at the camp, only about three hundred survived. As you can see, losses were extreme. They have split up and are traveling in smaller groups, and are heading here. Thankfully, the four remaining Council members are dead, not captured, so the location of this base is safe. To an extent.

Martin raised an eyebrow, and asked questioningly, “To an extent?”
“We have a betrayer in our midst. Only the Council members know of the exact locations of the base in the country. The attack by the Corporation was precise and exact. They knew exactly where we were, and they sent exactly the right amount of troops. Any less, and we might have won that encounter.

“Best-case scenario, somebody made a mistake and missed a spy that the Corporation slipped in. This guy would have to be an expert, and would have to have been at the base for weeks, if not months, to get all the information. It would also mean that we missed a tracker smuggled in.

“Even just this scenario has its dangers. Maybe seventy-five percent of the recruiting gets done through this branch here, before they are sent over to the main base. This means that our only real choice is to set up shop somewhere else. However, moving all of these people unnoticed is not easy, although we do have several backup locations that may work temporarily.

“The worst case scenario. One of the eight surviving Council members is a traitor. Several of us are discounted right off the bat. Aaron Anderson is our leader, and thus is above suspicion. If he wanted to betray us, there are worse things to be done. Noah here, likewise is above suspicion. His digital cloaking has kept us off the map for years, and again, there are worse things he could do. The rest of us however….

“Before we start glaring shifty-eyed at each other, this last scenario is extremely unlikely. We all know the location of both of the bases, and thus, we probably would have told this to the Corporation to allow for simultaneous assault.

“However, this also creates an added danger. If any of us are traitor, the Corporation knows the location of both of our bases, as well as all of our backups. That pretty much means that we’re screwed.

“There is no counter for this. If they do have someone on the Council, there is no way to stop them from killing every one of us before I can find new hiding places.

“However, I maintain the position that this is unlikely. All of us on the Council have… personal grievances against the Corporation.”

At this point, Karli interrupts. “So you just spent the last five minutes telling us that we might have a spy in the Council, but that it was unlikely and we’re not doing anything to prevent it?”

Before she started to get truly angry, Chahad stepped back in.

“I’m not saying we’re not doing anything. Security is being tightened. It’s just that there’s not much we can do.”

“The most important thing to do right now is to show the Corporation that the Insurgents aren’t just curling up in our shells and dying. So I’ve talked with Aaron Anderson and Simon Aaron and we’ve decided that we have three real options.

“Number one. We go on the raid that Karli has been proposing.”

Chahad walked over to the computer screen and brushed it lightly with his fingers. It awakened, and a map of the city and the surrounding countryside appeared.

“Every month, there is a rather major food convoy from the farms in the countryside going to the city. The next one is in five days. What Karli proposes is to intercept the convoy here, and, taking only what we need to feed us for a month or so, deliver it far enough down the road that it will be found by the city forces. Along with a note of course. This should help raise public awareness of the Insurgents, as well as feed us for a while.

Here Martin interrupts. “Why are we attacking now? We have lost a major percentage of our overall force. Right now we should regroup, not weaken ourselves further with risky attacks.”

“That is why we’re not going with all three options. Now shall I finish? Very well. The downside of this operation is that it is highly risky. This convoy will be heavily guarded, being a main supply of food for most of the city.”

“The second option is to go back to the base, salvaging and destroying data and supplies. While the data left at the base that was not immediately purged is not necessary or condemning for us, it is still a valuable source for many different operations. The personnel files would also aid us in finding further Corporate plants. This is also risky, in that there may still be major Corporation forces remaining at the base.”

“The third option is the least risky of the three although there are still dangers. It also has the least short-term gains for us. Basically, we would rob the Corporation digital bank, cleaning it of all the credits by making them transfer it to an account that we will open. While this doesn’t seem to actually do anything, seeing as the Corporation can simply cancel the credits in that account, Noah believes that he can reactivate them. And when the Corporation deactivates the credits, not knowing that we can reactivate them, the CEO will be forced to ‘mint’ more, an equal number to the credits that we had transferred. However, when Noah reactivates the credits and we inject them back into the mainstream population, this will cause massive inflation and much destabilization.”

“The question currently is, which of the three to do now? While we need to demonstrate to the Corporation that we aren’t beaten completely, it is also true that we still need time to rebuild. All of these operations can be postponed til a later time, and two of them will be. But we must vote on which to do now. I have already collected Aaron and Simon’s votes. Aaron voted for the bank robbery, while Simon voted for the Raid on the food convoy. I vote for returning to the wreckage of our old base.”

One by one, the Council voted. Karli voted for her plan, talking of the food shortages we were having and the need for more publicity. Noah voted for the credit injection plan, talking of how it could cause the averages citizens to become unsatisfied with their current lives and realize the problems of this governmental monopoly. Victoria agreed with Chahad, silently, while Martin abstained, talking fervently of rebuilding and biding our time.

It became my turn to vote.

Two for the Food Convoy Raid.

Two for the Scavenging Plan.

Two for the Economic Destabilization.

My vote would break the three way tie.

Which to choose?

**************************************


There we go. A DP. Comments, suggestions, complaints, please.

[Guest]

I chose the abandoned building... ^_^

[Cyberworm]

uhm... which one is the bank account thingy? :)

[shy_blu_eyes]

The Economic Destabilization plan seems like it would take only a handful of people. I'd combine that with the attack on the food convoy. Food shortage= higher prices, inflation= higher prices, super high prices on food= angry, rioting mobs. Even if one plan fails, it will distract the corporation and give the Insurgents a better chance to pull off the other one.

[Guest]

*gets stabbed with a golf club* Aaa! ^_^ Well I really wana see now what is going to happen at the Clsium. ^_^

[DeadManWalking]

I AM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO she's going to the colliseum.

Putting up the next poll now.

[FatHairyApe]

I now present a step-by-step critique of your chapter three. I am not going to really be correcting for grammar, because you told me you didn't want that. Instead, I am going to be discussing plot, etc. Yay!
Quote:
Markell walked quickly through the corridors of the Insurgent junior barracks (or the Barrackita, as the senior Insurgents jokingly called it). It was a building that was made for hundreds of teenagers who were just growing into their powers. It currently held about twenty. Recruitment wasn’t going well. Markell, stuck his head into the room Lantern and Mammon shared. Lantern wasn’t there. Mammon, however, was at his desk.

I love how your stories can be so dark! They lack the grandeur that seemingly every other story on the block has. It is so fun to read about something where the recruitment isn't well and everything is a mess. And props for having someone named Lantern, haha.
Quote:
Markell found himself sinking into deep pools of darkness, tumbling through the blackness uncontrollably, hearing shadows whispering of treacherous things and evil things, and worse.

After what seemed like an eternity, Markell ripped himself away from those wells of night. He mumbled something relatively affirmative, and stumbled out of the room.

Holy shit this passage is orgasmic. I don't know if I am allowed to swear, but this totally warrants that. So the section before this section was a little awkward, but then it got so good! I love how you describe them as "deep pools of darkness" and you continue this water/darkness metaphor with "wells of night" (and great job with skipping out on articles, because wells of the night sounds awful). You truley showed us how these eyes are captivating and so entirely dismal you just lose your soul to them. But I know I would edit for grammar, but the last sentence of this section is wrong (at least from what I just looked at. You should have "He mumbled something relatively affirmative and stumbled out of the room." Only use a comma if you have a subject in the second part, too (i.e. if it was "he mumbled something relatively affirmative, and he stumbled out of the room")

I like the developing power bit. Maybe have a parallel with the development of youth (i.e. boy to man transitioning). This might be a cool metaphor, because "eyes are the windows to the soul". Maybe Mammon's eyes foreshadow that he's going to grow to be a bad person, etc. Hot.
Quote:
To tell the truth, Markell hadn’t remembered. He had promised to train with Naima in one of the empty classrooms. But with all of Martin’s talk of traitors, it had totally slipped his mind. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that. He wasn’t suicidal or anything. Naima was one of the more powerful members of the Insurgents, despite the fact that she was still a teenager, and in training besides. She could make things from air. Anything she could think of. She even managed to make a working mouth, with vocal cords and all. Granted she had also needed someone to blow into the bottom to make it talk, but it hand been cool. And she was also somewhat… hyper. There was no other word to describe it. If she had been on coffee, he didn’t think the world would survive another day. Even without the coffee, he was less than sure about his own survival.

I love the humanity in this. It is so great how he doesn't remember but doesn't tell her because that happens so often. Also, I love your characterization of Naima. PS it should be "but it had been cool" not "but it hand be cool". The making anything out of air is a really awesome and innovative idea, but is it... too powerful? What if she wanted ill with it! Scary!
Quote:
Naima’s eyebrow was rapidly rising higher and higher.

You also always manage to bring some humor to darkness. Well done.

“Lantern’s dead. They found him in one of the less-used parts of the outpost. His head was smashed in.”

Wow this can be really symbolic, depending on where you take it. For me, the Dark/Light comparison in this chapter is outrageously good. Here, Lantern--or the sourced of light and the guiding light--is now dead. We are left with this brooding darkness in Mammon!! This is definitely foreshadowing, and I hope you empoly this as the novel continues. Maybe Lantern's ghost can make an appearance? :D

And I love your DP--you give it such significance! Go you.

--

I think this is a really great chapter. Great work. My only complaint would be that some of the dialog was a bit boring because was a lot of telling and summarizing and no action, much like dialog can be. Also, some names (i.e. Aaron Anderson and Simon Aaron) made me kind of giggle, because they were pretty ridiculous. But this is a pretty damn lush piece of work!! Can't wait to read MORE.

[Phantomfan]

.... Geez, Fath... :shock:
That was a pretty impressive critique.

And by pretty impressive, I mean really impressive.

My bad... :off: back to the story!

[Crunchyfrog]

That was a good read! One minor nitpick of the technical variety - some of your paragraphs are very long. It's difficult to read online when there are no breaks in the text.

Break 'em up!

[Head Eater]

Thisss ssstorygame isss acceptable to me.

Enssure it remainsss so!

[sir wax]

Congrats DMW!! Newest edition to Skiffy!!

[Phantomfan]

Wooot!! Congratulations, dmw!!!!

[DeadManWalking]

YAY!!!!!

FREE AT LAST THANK GOD ALMIGHTY WE'RE FREE AT LAST!!!!!

Will try to get the next chappie out, however, there may be delays.

I am currently volunteering for the rest of the month, which is taking most of my time.

(more time than school did, actually)

[FatHairyApe]

Congrats on the promo, bud!

[DeadManWalking]

YAY first chappie in a promoted section.

I'm so happy.

I'd like to thank everyone who has helped me through this, especially my friends from school, of which Phan is the only one here.

And I'd like to thank the academy. Of course.

Sorry for the long wait, but I've been kinda busy.

Anyways, here we GO!!!!!!!

hope you like it!

Chap IV

“Let GO of me!”

Sieme struggled against the two figures holding her arms, her pack in hand. On her left side strode a tall black-haired dark-skinned guard, and on the other, a short statue moving surprisingly quickly for something made of granite. The Guard’s aura was a sickly green, like the leaves from a starving tree. The statue’s aura was totally absent.

A bored-looking clerk with a rust red aura looked up from his reading.

“So what’s she in for? Not another one of your… conquests, is she, Erik? Cuz if so, your tastes have gotten a lot younger than I remembered.”

The Statue made an exceedingly rude gesture with his unoccupied hand as well as making grating noises with his mouth. It probably would have been very very inappropriate if the statue had a tongue.

The Clerk yawned and closed the well-worn novel, marking his place with a strip of paper. He got out a large pile of paperwork and stamped and initialed many of the pages, then looked up expectantly at the tall guard.

The guard opened his mouth and pointed inside.

The Clerk winced. “Ouch. When did that happen?” He turned to the statue. So, Erik…”

The statue’s rocky skin transformed into normal flesh and a dark gray aura with swirls of red emerged, and Erik stretched his neck, his neck bones cracking loudly.

“We found her sleeping behind one of the slot machines. She…OW!! Bit-”

Sieme had seen her chance and ground her heel into his foot, followed with an elbow to the stomach. When Erik doubled over, she ripped her other arm from the tall guard’s grasp and swung her pack into the back of Erik’s unprotected head with all her strength.

He collapsed to the ground and his aura grew pale as he became unconscious.

She grabbed the pistol from Erik’s holster and pointed it at the two others. The clerk ducked under the counter, but the guard just stood there unafraid. Even as Sieme watched, the guard grew thick plates on his arms and legs.

“Stay back! I’m warning you. I’ll shoot!”

The Guard just smiled silently and started walking forward, armor growing on his chest and stomach.

Sieme pulled the trigger, aiming for the Guard’s shoulder. It simply hit the armor on his arm and stopped, falling to the ground. Sieme pulled the trigger again and again desperately, trying to slow down the guard, but it did nothing.

He was almost upon her.

Then Sieme saw her way out. She smiled.

“Nice Armor. But you missed a place.”

The guard looked confused for a second, then, understanding dawned on his face, followed an instant later by apprehension.

Sieme performed a move that almost every single one of her instructors would have scolded her soundly for. But you had to admit it was extremely effective.

Sieme sprinted out of the Colliseum. She didn’t want to wait for any more trouble. However, as she ran out the ornate double doors, she was surprised to hear laughing. She paused curiously, and looked down one of the side alleys. She saw a man in black, rolling around on the ground. She started to leave, until she saw the man gesturing for her to stay.

He started to get up, but he fell back down laughing. After a while he stepped up back into the light.

“Heh. Did you really have to kick him in the- Haha. I’m sorry. That was hilarious. I gotta see that again sometime. So what’s your name kid?”

“Sieme.” She didn’t even think of lying or running. When he stood up, she saw his aura. It was the most complex one she’d seen, yet simple at the same time. It was full of conundrums and paradoxes. It was black, and pink. Not Black with pink swirls, or black tinged pink. Just… Black and pink. Both at the same time. And there were swirls OF that black pink inside his own aura. As Long as you didn’t look at them. When you concentrated on them, they just faded into the rest of the aura. She’d never seen that before.

“- could use someone like you with us. What’s your power?”

At that moment a commotion erupted in the Colliseum, and they both looked back up at the amphitheater.

Sieme looked back at the Man in black. “Is there somewhere else we could be very very soon?”

The Man Laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes. Welcome to the Insurgents. I’m Ray.”

Wait. The Insurgents? What had she gotten herself into?

In the Insurgent Base

Markell ducked behind a discarded desk, as training bullets whizzed over his head, chipping pieces off the wall. His training helmet felt weird on his head. He jumped through the air, firing his gun at Banth, and ended with a roll that brought him behind the relative safety of a concrete pillar. However, he tripped over one of his frozen teammates, the hardened training armor causing him to fall to the ground, just as a training bullet rebounded off the spot where his head had been.

He ran through the corridors of the Junkyard, the training ground for young Insurgents, using his powers to evade blue team’s notice.

Where was that sniper? He’d have to take him out soon. Once he shot, someone would be bound to notice him.

Suddenly he felt himself being pulled through that air. Around him, the various obstacles started to scrape along the ground toward Banth, who was using his power to distort gravity. It was a cheap trick, and Banth only did it because he couldn’t find Markell. Markell jumped into the air, allowing himself to be pulled. He only had one chance. As Markell floated closer he watched as Banth used his skill to hover each object before him as he shot it. This took immense practice, and showed how skillfully Banth could use his power. It was also a waste of time, as Markell wasn’t camouflaged as a piece of discarded furniture, but rather unnoticed completely, but it had effectively distracted Markell’s plans. Markell was getting closer. Just one shot.

He took the shot, the bullet whistling through the air straight at Banth’s forehead. At the last second, sensors in the bullet detected the helmet and opened, spraying a special chemical into the helmet, which, as programmed instantly stiffened the entire body. This special chemical was what allowed trainees to have these skirmishes.

It also contained sedatives, so that the trainees couldn’t use their powers. Which meant that all the large heavy objects were now flying straight at Banth, without the benefit of the gravity brakes he was applying.

Needless to say, he wouldn’t be getting up for a while, even without the sedatives.

Then a shot, a splattering on his back, and he fell to the ground, paralyzed.

A bell rang. “Blue team WINS!!!!” The annoying automated voice rang throughout the stadium.

Leo jumped down from his nest on one of the high ledges, landing light as a feather on the ground, which in effect he pretty much was. Hollow bones meant that he could jump higher and run farther than most people.

The Armor automatically softened, and the sedatives were purged from the player’s systems. Green team got up, rubbing their heads ruefully. Naima and Stifle were Markell’s teammates. The third member of Red Team was Phil. He had gotten out pretty quickly; although he had managed to take out Stifle before it was over. Naima had been sniped, like Markell was.

“Green Team is OUT of the tournament. Next up is the Winners of this match vs. Team Purple.”

“GAH! That ANNOYING COMPUTER VOICE. It just drills right into your skull doesn’t it?”

Naima walked up to Markell.

“Hey, we came close to winning. If Leo hadn’t been sniping, we probably woulda won.”

Markell walked off silently. He had almost won. It had been so close. If only….

Naima caught up. “Oh come on…. There was nothing you could do. We couldn’t’ve done any better.”

Markell was glad for Naima’s help, and he didn’t think it was anyone’s fault. He was just disappointed.

He just wanted to be alone. So he walked the halls of the Insurgent base silently, brooding, with Naima tagging along behind.

He was so self-absorbed, that he almost bumped into Ray.

“Oh, Sir! Back from your morning walk?”

Ray looked away from Noah, who Markell hadn’t actually noticed, so absorbed was he with Ray.

“Hello Markell. Here. I found a recruit for us. Why don’t you show her around?”

He returned to his conversation. “So, Noah. About this Bank Thingy.”

Markell turned to the girl Ray had brought. She had long brown hair, that went almost all the way down to the back of her knees, and a round face, with big blue eyes. No wait. Not blue. Gold. Or…. Her eyes changed colors, as if reflecting the light. Except that the light wasn’t changing, but her eye color kept on changing, as if they just didn’t know better, or as if they didn’t care.

He held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Markell.”

The Girl studied him intently, then moved her shifting eyes to Naima. Only then did she take Markell’s hand. Then she smiled a brilliant white.

“I’m Sieme. Nice to meet you!”

Then Markell saw Martin gesturing to him from down the hallway.

“Just a sec Sieme. I gotta go talk to somebody.”

He walked quickly over to Martin, as Naima introduced herself.

So what does Martin want?

Comments and suggestions please. All feedback welcome, be it positive, negative, or just plain electric.

[Phantomfan]

Yay!!! Another great chapter, dmw.

I loved the whole guard scene, what with Sieme... well, you get the idea.

For the dp? Martin has new proof that one of the Founders is a liar/betrayer/spy... And he wanted to tell Markell right away.

Then again... as to whether Martin is lying/a spy himself is a different question...

[Sabriel]

Whoohoo.. my first reply ever!

I finally caught up, and I just wanted to say that this is a great story- very well written and extremely interesting.

What does Martin want? I would have to agree with Phantomfan- he has proof that a Founder is a traitor, and he wants Markell to take action against this Founder right away.

Well done, and I can't wait to read more!

[DeadManWalking]

GAH

NO one except for these two lovely ladies has replied!

That makes me sad.

:(

I'm doing this in the vague hope that this'll actually get more people to look at this.

please?

[Kalanna Rai]

Perhaps he wants to know who he's told and if he's heard any rumors about there being a spy in their midst. Perhaps Martin is acting a little shifty himself. Who knows, hero worship blinds...

[DeadManWalking]

YAY Three lovely ladies.

so now we wait.

or maybe i should put up a poll with only two options....

hmmmm...