Post by James "Mustang" Morrison on Mar 5, 2008 11:36:40 GMT -5
so i posted some of Secret Wars: The Novel here because my site was (and still is) going nowhere and i needed to get my ideas out. weeeell, i'm at it again. this time its the sequel (which is a bit crazy because i'm still stuck on chapter 2 of secret wars). Again, this stars James but it takes place in the the 22nd century (which if you read James' profile is easily explainable--i think. i'm not sure if i put in the explanation. Probably gotta go edit it... Well, here's the preview for chapter 1 (it's all i've written). Chock full of sci-fi and fantasy and weird future slang and techno-babble. Yay!
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Copyright © 2008 Joseph Garcia
He dodged the beast's attack another time, brutal claws raking the air where his face had been. Nearby, a group of plebes were cowering in fear. They had nearly been the victims of this monster before the man had intervened. He had to sidestep another vicious blow from the freakish thing, but before he could recover the beast aimed another strike at the man's right arm. It connected this time and horrible talons tore through the sleeve of his coat and ripped hs flesh. But, what was this? There was no blood, only gleaming chrome shining through his flesh. "Bloody manticores, Aways go for the arms, eh?" Not that the plebes would recognize it, but his accent came from Liverpool-that-was. He backed off significantly from the monster; it's horrible humanoid-leonid face was eying this man warily. Who or what was this metal man? Were there any good-tasting bits on him?
This gave the man time to bring up a holoscreen touchpad on his seemingly ruined arm. He tapped in a certain sequence of symbols and the rest of the the flesh was gone, simply evaporating. Something within the mechanical arm whirred into life and a set of symbols etched into the metal glowed yellow. There was a pressure drop and the air suddenly smelled like ozone and the manticore suddenly realized what was happening. It knew precisely what this man was and more importantly it knew that if it didn't take him now, the beast would only be a memory. It rushed forward, covering the distance between them all too quickly. But not quick enough. The man brought his arm up and a shining disc on the palm of the hand glowed angrily at the manticore.
There was a thunderous roar and a bolt of lightning shot forth from the hand and exploded through the monster's body. It visibly slumped and now fell through the air, flopping and rolling across the ground, and stopping mere inches from the man's boots. There was a smoking, cauterized hole in through it's heart. Fury was still etched across its disturbingly humanoid features. The metal arm powered down; the symbols stopped glowing and the whirring ceased. The man surveyed the damage to his arm. Miraculously (at least to the plebes, for they knew those beasts were more than capable of extreme damage against ordinary metal objects), there was none. The metal was perfect and unmarred, except for the subtle symbols that were carved into its surface.
He reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out a small metallic box. He opened it and pulled out a dab of flesh-colored, putty-like material. He put it on his false arm and it seemed to react with the metal; it spread out and within seconds it replicated into a perfect example of an arm. Fingernails, fingerprints, arm hair and all. You wouldn't be able to tell it was cybernetic unless he told you personally. With that out of the way, he put away the box and pulled out a small aerosol can. The plebes recognized this. It was Nano-Spray, and he used it on his coat. Tiny machines went to work and mended his clothing quickly and efficiently, then when their work was done techno-genetic programming kicked in and they shut down and biodegraded in nanoseconds (no pun intended).
His repairs finished he turned to leave and continue on his way, where he was headed before he ran across the manticore and its intended victims. One of the plebes screwed up enough courage to talk to him. Not that he had anything interesting to say "Very wickt, bruh. Them's sum nast bionics. Not even govmint issue duz dat damage. Which forge?"
The stranger still walking away, simply said:
"London."
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Wow! Wasn't that fantastic? Some may ask "what the hell do you think you're doing?" I admit, I'm not entirely sure. Inspiration struck and I had to get the ideas down on paper, or at least WordPad. I like where this is going, don't you?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright © 2008 Joseph Garcia
He dodged the beast's attack another time, brutal claws raking the air where his face had been. Nearby, a group of plebes were cowering in fear. They had nearly been the victims of this monster before the man had intervened. He had to sidestep another vicious blow from the freakish thing, but before he could recover the beast aimed another strike at the man's right arm. It connected this time and horrible talons tore through the sleeve of his coat and ripped hs flesh. But, what was this? There was no blood, only gleaming chrome shining through his flesh. "Bloody manticores, Aways go for the arms, eh?" Not that the plebes would recognize it, but his accent came from Liverpool-that-was. He backed off significantly from the monster; it's horrible humanoid-leonid face was eying this man warily. Who or what was this metal man? Were there any good-tasting bits on him?
This gave the man time to bring up a holoscreen touchpad on his seemingly ruined arm. He tapped in a certain sequence of symbols and the rest of the the flesh was gone, simply evaporating. Something within the mechanical arm whirred into life and a set of symbols etched into the metal glowed yellow. There was a pressure drop and the air suddenly smelled like ozone and the manticore suddenly realized what was happening. It knew precisely what this man was and more importantly it knew that if it didn't take him now, the beast would only be a memory. It rushed forward, covering the distance between them all too quickly. But not quick enough. The man brought his arm up and a shining disc on the palm of the hand glowed angrily at the manticore.
There was a thunderous roar and a bolt of lightning shot forth from the hand and exploded through the monster's body. It visibly slumped and now fell through the air, flopping and rolling across the ground, and stopping mere inches from the man's boots. There was a smoking, cauterized hole in through it's heart. Fury was still etched across its disturbingly humanoid features. The metal arm powered down; the symbols stopped glowing and the whirring ceased. The man surveyed the damage to his arm. Miraculously (at least to the plebes, for they knew those beasts were more than capable of extreme damage against ordinary metal objects), there was none. The metal was perfect and unmarred, except for the subtle symbols that were carved into its surface.
He reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out a small metallic box. He opened it and pulled out a dab of flesh-colored, putty-like material. He put it on his false arm and it seemed to react with the metal; it spread out and within seconds it replicated into a perfect example of an arm. Fingernails, fingerprints, arm hair and all. You wouldn't be able to tell it was cybernetic unless he told you personally. With that out of the way, he put away the box and pulled out a small aerosol can. The plebes recognized this. It was Nano-Spray, and he used it on his coat. Tiny machines went to work and mended his clothing quickly and efficiently, then when their work was done techno-genetic programming kicked in and they shut down and biodegraded in nanoseconds (no pun intended).
His repairs finished he turned to leave and continue on his way, where he was headed before he ran across the manticore and its intended victims. One of the plebes screwed up enough courage to talk to him. Not that he had anything interesting to say "Very wickt, bruh. Them's sum nast bionics. Not even govmint issue duz dat damage. Which forge?"
The stranger still walking away, simply said:
"London."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wow! Wasn't that fantastic? Some may ask "what the hell do you think you're doing?" I admit, I'm not entirely sure. Inspiration struck and I had to get the ideas down on paper, or at least WordPad. I like where this is going, don't you?