SF's "Write Your Butt Off" Competition HD II.5 Remix

[TheSilentChloey]

Which is why I added "lol" because I knew what you were saying.

[Ottservia]

@AnonymousSpeed so quick question about the prompt. I have an idea but unsure if it’ll fit. Technically it’s introducing a new villain but at the same time it’s not necessarily a new character. Like it’s basically over-exaggerating an already existing character into a “new” villain in a let’s say comedic manner. I dunno how to explain this without giving away my idea

Edited April 9, 2019 by Ottservia

[AnonymousSpeed]

4 minutes ago, Ottservia said:

@AnonymousSpeed so quick question about the prompt. I have an idea but unsure if it’ll fit. Technically it’s introducing a new villain but at the same time it’s not necessarily a new character. Like it’s basically over-exaggerating an already existing character into a “new” villain. I dunno how to explain this without giving away my idea

You could send me a private message, but if the idea is, for example,

"Stahl except he's now super evil to the point of basically being a new character"

Then I'd probably okay it. Distinct alternate dimension versions of existing characters count as new, I guess.

[Ottservia]

1 minute ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

You could send me a private message, but if the idea is, for example,

"Stahl except he's now super evil to the point of basically being a new character"

Then I'd probably okay it. Distinct alternate dimension versions of existing characters count as new, I guess.

Something like that. I PM you a more in-depth explanation.

[AnonymousSpeed]

1 minute ago, Ottservia said:

Something like that. I PM you a more in-depth explanation.

Danke.

[Ottservia]

looks like I got the ok now let's see where I can go with this

[Jotari]

3 hours ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

According to the French humanist Michel de Montaigne, it is only possible for friendship to exist between two men.

Yeah but he's French so we shouldn't listen to him.

[AnonymousSpeed]

1 minute ago, Jotari said:

Yeah but he's French so we shouldn't listen to him.

Oh wow hatred for the Franks. I didn't know you were so wise. Let us toast to this.

[Jotari]

3 minutes ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

Oh wow hatred for the Franks. I didn't know you were so wise. Let us toast to this.

There're two things I can't stand in this world. Those who discriminate based on other people's culture, and the French.

Edited April 9, 2019 by Jotari

[Shoblongoo]

Oi people--Its a joke, not a dick.

Don't take it so hard. 

Edited April 9, 2019 by Shoblongoo

[Shoblongoo]

This week is looking much less busy than last week. Dropping feedback from last round and may even have a moment to write something for this one.

@TheSilentChloey

Its a Fates fic. Its campy. When you write a Fates fic you either have to run far, far away from the in-game writing style and really work it up and put your own spin on it to get something of substance, or embrace it completely and go full kitsh. 

This is full kitsh.

Which is to say if you did this to Ike or Hector or Chrom I'd be absolutely livid. But its Corrin. Fuck 'im. 

Like--this is actually something I would half expect him to do in a DLC/MyCastle Cut scene. 


@Jotari

Nothing wrong with this one, but also nothing that really popped or stood out. Almost felt like I was reading the script to a fanmade FE-rom. 


@Emperor_Siegfried

This is a gripe I have going back to my high school FE7 fanfic days, when half the fics that got uploaded to fanfic.net were literally just straight "I found you unconscious on the plains. Your name is Mark? That's an odd name." novelizations of Lyn's Tale. 
 
Something you always gotta be careful about when doing a videogame based fic is making sure that you're injecting enough of your own original material into your story for it to be your story, and aren't just doing a straight novelization of in-game events and gameplay.

This read a bit too much like  a straight novelization of Skyrim's in-game events and gameplay.

My favorite part was that bit in the beginning where you teased out that prior to the starting point of Skyrim, your Dragonborn had a one-parent childhood and prior engagement with the Stormcloak rebels and wound up on the chopping block because of involvement with the rebellion. 

THAT'S a your own original material. I wanted to see more of that.  
  
@AnonymousSpeed

Being completely honest here: when I first read "Going Forward" two rounds back, I had absolutely no idea what to make of it. It looked like random nonsense. 

After reading "Being Honest," I think I get what you were going for.

Its surreal and its absurd, but its not random. There's established characters and a defined setting.

This read like a pilot script for something that college stoner's would watch at 2:00 in the morning on Adult Swim.  (the only thing that was missing was a wolf with a laser on its back)

You moved me from "I don't get it" to "I like it."  Soooooooo---yeah. Good job with that.  

Edited April 9, 2019 by Shoblongoo

[SoulWeaver]

On 3/31/2019 at 6:32 PM, AnonymousSpeed said:

Write a story which introduces a brand new, high quality villain. They may have redeeming qualities, but may not be redeemed.

...An idea approaches. We'll have to see if I can get it put together in time, and if I can get a high enough quality of villain.

[Anacybele]

I wanted to write an entry, and I had a sorta vague idea for one, but I couldn't flesh it out enough to start writing, and I started a new job, so on top of that and school, I have less time to do this now. >_<

The idea was going to use Judo, the guy from my To Be a Leader entry in a previous contest, since I noticed I never really gave him a personal antagonist. The ones responsible for his father's disappearance are planned to appear in a story at some point, but that's definitely not one-shot material. This idea was going to be on a different kind of personal level with the villain just being a jerkface Hylian soldier making fun of Kelli for being a woman wielding a sword and stuff despite her known combat skill, saying things like it makes her unattractive and not an ideal wife if she were to look for a husband. That women don't need to be fighting. Judo, of course would go all out at this guy to defend his best friend. The guy is like "...Wait, I get it now. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Judo goes super red in the face and denies it, saying that he and Kelli are just best friends. Though he's a terrible liar, he does love her. lol And might technically always have thought of her as more than just a friend, just perhaps subconsciously for a long time. He consults Conan for advice and admits that maybe he does have feelings for Kelli. Conan encourages him to tell her, as he's certain Kelli loves him the same way. And that they should just ignore Jerkface. Judo decides to do that, and he knows exactly how to do it: take Kelli to their favorite spot to hang out and tell her there (which is the cliff next to Kakariko's windmill).

Also, not everyone would approve of Kelli or her being a warrior, whether it's due to her being a woman or not. Some troops might not feel comfortable fighting a woman, some might not like her personality, etc. Helps her character, since no character should be loved by everyone around them. Sexism in the workplace is unfortunately a thing sometimes in real life too.

It's just a shame I couldn't write this, it might've been really good!

Edited April 10, 2019 by Anacybele

[TheSilentChloey]

On 10/04/2019 at 12:29 AM, Shoblongoo said:

This week is looking much less busy than last week. Dropping feedback from last round and may even have a moment to write something for this one.

@TheSilentChloey

Its a Fates fic. Its campy. When you write a Fates fic you either have to run far, far away from the in-game writing style and really work it up and put your own spin on it to get something of substance, or embrace it completely and go full kitsh. 

This is full kitsh.

Which is to say if you did this to Ike or Hector or Chrom I'd be absolutely livid. But its Corrin. Fuck 'im. 

Like--this is actually something I would half expect him to do in a DLC/MyCastle Cut scene. 


@Jotari

Nothing wrong with this one, but also nothing that really popped or stood out. Almost felt like I was reading the script to a fanmade FE-rom. 


@Emperor_Siegfried

This is a gripe I have going back to my high school FE7 fanfic days, when half the fics that got uploaded to fanfic.net were literally just straight "I found you unconscious on the plains. Your name is Mark? That's an odd name." novelizations of Lyn's Tale. 
 
Something you always gotta be careful about when doing a videogame based fic is making sure that you're injecting enough of your own original material into your story for it to be your story, and aren't just doing a straight novelization of in-game events and gameplay.

This read a bit too much like  a straight novelization of Skyrim's in-game events and gameplay.

My favorite part was that bit in the beginning where you teased out that prior to the starting point of Skyrim, your Dragonborn had a one-parent childhood and prior engagement with the Stormcloak rebels and wound up on the chopping block because of involvement with the rebellion. 

THAT'S a your own original material. I wanted to see more of that.  
  
@AnonymousSpeed

Being completely honest here: when I first read "Going Forward" two rounds back, I had absolutely no idea what to make of it. It looked like random nonsense. 

After reading "Being Honest," I think I get what you were going for.

Its surreal and its absurd, but its not random. There's established characters and a defined setting.

This read like a pilot script for something that college stoner's would watch at 2:00 in the morning on Adult Swim.  (the only thing that was missing was a wolf with a laser on its back)

You moved me from "I don't get it" to "I like it."  Soooooooo---yeah. Good job with that.  

Kitish?

[SoulWeaver]

BEHOLD A CONCEPT

Spoiler

“So why do they have this girl all locked up like this anyway?”

Jalan looked over at his companion, startled. Roul was staring into the compartment, a frown on his fellow guard’s face.

“I mean, look at her - she can’t be older than 20, she’s just a kid. What could she have done to merit this? If I didn’t know better, I’d say those bars propping her up were nailed into her.”

Jalan turned and looked in himself, despite knowing what he’d see.

A young woman was confined in the compartment, her face peaceful behind the dark hair that fell in waves as she slumped in her confinements. The entire chamber was kept full of sedation gas to ensure she couldn’t stay conscious enough to even dream, as per protocol for criminals who reached Red Threat Level.

Outside of protocol, she also had no less than twelve metal bars that appeared to have been jammed through her body in various places, holding her upright, including one that seemed to go right through where her navel was.

Jalan took a deep breath.

“It’s because they are, Roul.”

“Huh?”

“Those bars.” Jalan motioned to the compartment. “They were nailed through her.”

Roul muttered something probably religious under his breath, looking back in.

“What on earth - how is she even still alive?! Wait, no, first, what could she have possibly done to merit that?!”

Jalan looked out at the mountainside flashing by the transport train as it rushed along.

“Most of what she did’s classified - I doubt even Melani knows more than a little about her. She did, however, get traced to upwards of thirty-two deaths in one month - it’s one of the few bits of info on her available.”

“Bull. We’ve transported serial killers before, none of them got anything near to this. Did you see the one stuck in her gut?”

“I just said most of it’s classified - Class Five, I heard.”

Roul blinked. Anything more secret than Class Three was generally kept from even the main government’s knowledge - the two of them only knew there were things even more secret because Jalan had an ongoing affair with their boss’s boss, Melani Trevach, and Jalan had been Roul’s best friend since before they could walk. In all the info Jalan had carefully wheedled out of his lover over the three years they’d been seeing each other, she had only mentioned one other instance of anything higher than Class Four - and it had been, as far as they could guess based on who was in on it, a matter of planetary security. Roul looked back at the girl with a new measure of concern.

“So that means if she gets out-”

“Chances are the whole world will get screwed.” Jalan nodded. “The only reason the public even knows about her is that the last seventeen of those deaths were in the Bosti Massacre. They couldn’t identify the bodies, supposedly she had to tell them which was who. Most gory killing on public record, and only two records Melani has access to - both Class Four - are considered worse.”

“And that’s just her public info?!” Roul’s voice squeaked a little despite himself as he stared at the girl, still looking deceptively peaceful in confinement.

“Melani says even her boss gets squeamish when this girl’s brought up.” Jalan said in a low voice. “She’s supposedly survived decapitation, hanging, burning, even a flaying I think. I know it sounds impossible, but...well, the fact that she’s still breathing with a spike through her windpipe should speak for itself.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know, Melani says she’s just referred to as part of ‘The Facility’s projects’ - Subject 23, I wanna say?”

Roul felt a chill.

“Sh-she’s from The Facility?!”

The World Council had voted to Class Three the work of The Facility after the results of their first project had been submitted for the Council’s approval before they went public. After their fifth project, official government records had it that it was shut down - in reality, they’d been upgraded to Class Four. Somehow, images of Subject 4 - a man whose body was made entirely of protoflies - were leaked during a hacking incident, so the public knew of The Facility, but chose to pretend they didn’t. People will be people, after all.

Roul and Jalan, thanks to Melani’s Class Four clearance, knew of 19 Projects from The Facility, ranging from a weaponized aphrodisiac to a trio of brothers who functioned under a single hive mind to a raccoon with human intelligence. That this girl was Subject 23 meant that The Facility’s projects had officially - or was it unofficially? - reached the point where it was too dangerous for even those people whose job it was to handle too-dangerous things to know about them.

Roul muttered another probably-religious exclamation under his breath, turned to say something…

And the power went out.

Both men froze, staring at each other with fear clawing at their chests as they felt the train begin to slow.

Transports like these had no fewer than five backup power systems to ensure things like this didn’t happen - they were, after all, only used for extremely dangerous criminals. It should have been impossible for a total system failure like this.

Of course, Jalan reflected, it also should have been impossible for the prisoner to still be-

Oh, no.

Roul realized it at the same time. Both men slowly looked at the compartment. Though the sedative gas was still slightly clouding the window, they could see it was slowly dissipating.

Someone had to have punctured the compartment somehow.

As Roul stepped forward, Jalen felt something.

“Roul, no!”

A blinding flash, and the window blew in, showering them both with glass. With the world barely visible, Jalen thought he saw yet another impossibility.

There was an angel in the transport.

Azure feathers fluttered down around him. One brushed his foot, and he jumped slightly at the electric feel of it. Three somethings hit his shoulder - darts, of some kind? - and the angel raised its hand.

Then, pain screamed through everything as his vision cycled through a hundred shades of blue until the world finally broke into black.

 

“JALEN!!!”

Roul screamed as his friend died spasming, blue lightning coursing through the air across Jalen’s frame. He struggled to get to his feet, brushing shards of glass away, and found a gun barrel touching his forehead.

“...Heh. After all this time, to think it would be so easy.”

Roul looked up into the face of death.

...It was surprisingly almost pretty.

“Tell you what.”

Brown hair with three streaks of silvery gray framed a girlish face, out of which piercing eyes - one blue, one gray - stared confidently, almost arrogantly, into Roul’s own.

“I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give you a choice.”

Some kind of almost military half uniform half jumpsuit, dark blue with maroon trim, tightly fit a slender body, doing little to hide a modest chest but also excellently showcasing muscular structure that rivaled Roul’s own - in a hand to hand fight, he wasn’t certain who would come out on top.

“Either get out of my way and live to tell your superiors what happened-”

This was, of course, discounting the fact that the woman in front of him had killed Jalen by throwing lightning at him.

“Or you can join the other guy and we’ll just let them find the wreck in a couple days.”

...What kind of choice was that?

Roul slowly raised his hands in the universal ‘I’m unarmed don’t hurt me’ gesture.

“That was my best friend you just murdered.”

“Killed, pal, there’s a difference.” The girl said, holstering her gun. “Sorry, man, them’s the breaks sometimes. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend or something you can hook up with now to help you get over it?”

“What kind of twisted mentality is that?!”

“Hey, I don’t know how you real world types work, that’s how it always goes in the books.”

She walked over to the compartment door as Roul tried to process that. Real world types?

“This door open?”

Roul shook his head.

“You need clearance way beyond what I have to get in there. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Meh,” The girl shrugged. “Kinda expected that - only expendables would get guard duty of someone like this. Lucky for me…”

She pulled her pistol out, shot the lock once, and reholstered it again.

“I can just do this.”

Blue electricity arced from her hand to the lock for about five seconds, then Roul heard a click.

“There we go! Now,” The girl flung the door open, letting the gas finish escaping, diluted enough by the regular air to not affect them. “Gotta finish the mission.”

“Mission?” It connected in Roul’s mind what she must have been here for. “Are you here to-”

“Kill the Deadie in there? Nah, even a Thunderbird can only do so much.” The...Thunderbird, whatever that was, walked into the compartment, and Roul, despite himself, leaned on the door to look in - his legs were a little sore after getting blown off his feet, and something to hold him up helped.

The prisoner - Subject 23 - was groggily trying to shake her head. She went to move her arms, but unfortunately, there was a metal bar jammed through both her wrists and one elbow.

“Oh wow,” The Thunderbird whistled. “They really didn’t want you getting out of here, princess. Too bad there are people who need you back more.”

Back...it clicked.

The Facility.

The transport had been attacked, no doubt, by the result of one of their Projects.

A woman who could throw lightning and hack a high security electronic lock within ten seconds.

Subject 23, meanwhile, seemed to have come to full consciousness, and jumped at the sight of the other girl.

“You!”

“Yep.” The Thunderbird smiled. “Thought you killed me on the way out, didn’tcha? They told me I could be the one to bring you back as payback - said I could have a little fun with you while I’m at it.” Her smile turned wicked. “Lucky you, eh?”

Her gun came up, and she left three darts in a line up 23’s chest, then snapped her fingers.

Lightning jumped from her hand to the prisoner, focusing around the three darts. Subject 23 yelled, twisting against the bars holding her in place as the Thunderbird girl laughed.

“Ah, that’s a great sound. You realize how hard it is to yell with a slit throat? Wait, no-”

She viciously kicked 23 in the knee, and Roul heard a snap as the girl yelled again.

“-That was me who had to find that out, bitch.”

Surprisingly, the prisoner didn’t seem too distracted by her broken knee, or the blood running from around almost every bar jammed into her.

“...My name is-AAAGH!”

“What makes you think I care what you call yourself?” The Thunderbird scoffed as she jolted 23 around with another blast of electricity. “None of us have names, princess, you know that. Now scream a little louder, and we can get this over with quick.”

Roul could only watch, sickened. To her credit, 23 refused to let her yells grow to full screams, fighting her torturer in the only way she could. If anything, though, the effort made her thrash against the bars even harder - it almost looked like she was trying to thrash as hard as she…

With a rrrrrip and a real scream, 23’s left arm tore off at the shoulder.

Roul threw up.

“Oh, that’s disgusting.”

The Thunderbird girl recoiled at the sight of the arm hanging from the bar through its wrist, shaking her head.

“Goodness, you just gotta ruin my fun by making it gross with your Deadie stuff, huh?”

She reached out, grabbed the wrist of the arm, and yanked, ripping it off the bar and dropping it to the floor.

“All the good that did you, princess.” She shrugged. “Now you’re down an arm, and you’ve managed to put a nice big rip in your gut. Bit more thrashing like that and you’ll tear right through yourself, and then who cares if you got off the bars, you’re still stuck on the floor of a transport container in the middle of nowhere with only one arm. What were you even trying to do, anyways?”

23 just hung there, panting from what must have been immense pain. Oddly enough, there wasn’t as much blood running from the gaping wound where her left arm used to start as Roul would have thought.

“Hmph. Well, I think we’ll cut you down and let you thrash a little more.” The Thunderbird said, pulling out a laser cutter and slicing through the bars until 23 collapsed to the floor. She leaned down and yanked each bar piece out of the girl, seeming to revel in the cries of pain she made.

“Alright, let’s have some more fun, shall we?”

“Look, stop it.” Roul surprised himself more than he did her as she looked at him. “You got your revenge, she screamed nice and loud like you wanted - heck, her arm is on the floor a full arm’s length away from her. Just take her wherever you were supposed to take her.”

“You trying to get me to rescind my earlier offer?” The Thunderbird snapped angrily. “Cause I’m down to leave you like the other guy.”

“It won’t make a real difference.” Roul said. “You’re still just a bitch who-”

The dart and electricity hit at almost the same time, bringing Roul to the floor. However, a sudden thud and cry of pain cut the electricity off, and Roul forced himself to look up to see a bizarre sight.

23 had somehow regained her feet despite her broken knee, and had struck the Thunderbird with the closest thing at hand - her own disembodied arm. The two now faced each other, 23’s eyes tired but determined, the Thunderbird girl’s angry.

“You really wanna pick a fight with me here, princess?” She snapped. “You can’t hit me for squat if I don’t want you to, you don’t have that magnetic knife this time.”

“...Don’t I?”

23 reached up and grabbed something in her bloody left shoulder, ripping a sheathed blade from where it had been embedded in her flesh with a grunt of pain. She flicked the clasp and the sheath fell to the floor as her opponent unconsciously took a step back.

“The hell, you stored that thing in you?!” She cried. “That’s disgusting!”

“Fair trade.” 23 said softly. “An arm for the only way I could kill you. Still want to try and make me come back? You could come with me, you know.”

In response, Thunderbird shot twice. 23 dodged the darts, and threw herself at her foe, stumbling through bursts of blue lightning as she tackled the girl to the floor, brought her arm up, and swung it down.

“...Figured out my mistake.” 23 muttered, staring down at the knife now jutting from between the other girl’s shoulder blades. “I should have left it in you last time. Can’t heal with a big piece of metal magnetically drawing all the electrons into itself, right?”

The Thunderbird girl’s lips moved, but only blood came out - 23 had successfully slit her throat during the tackle. She stared, terrified, at the girl pinning her arms down, preventing her from removing the blade, and tried again to gasp for air, only succeeding in forcing herself to start choking on her own blood. In her desperate, dying struggles, electricity began pouring from her, forcing 23 off in her own spasms of pain. Shortly, though, the electricity wound down and stopped.

Roul waited a full five minutes before approaching the bodies sprawled on the floor. The Thunderbird girl was dead, her eyes staring blankly up with a vague panicked look still on her face. Subject 23, as far as he could tell, was dead too - not even a heartbeat. Jalen had said she’d been ‘killed’ before, though, so who knew.

Jalen! Roul quickly rushed to his friend’s body. I’m so sorry, my friend, he thought. I wish I could have done something to save you. He looked back at the bodies in the compartment, thinking.

The route the transport had taken went within five miles of a village. If - a big if - they were close enough to that point, Roul could probably make it there and call in for help, and...then what? That was a five mile hike, and his leg felt like it wouldn’t last a quarter of a mile.

He looked down at Jalen’s face.

...He’d make it. He had to, or else stay up here, alone. He assumed the rest of the crew had been killed or else fled once the transport had stopped. Roul forced himself to his feet, and made his way to the next car, forcing the door open after much longer than he would have liked. He took a supply pack, went to the broken window, looked back at the bodies once, and began to walk.

*le gasp* SoulWeaver knows big boy words?!

Author's Notes(Post-Read please):

Spoiler

Wow I can't stay on a prompt to save my life. 23 was supposed to be the villain, she was supposed to casually break out and leave, then somehow this happened. Eh, better than nothing, I sat down to write a paragraph or two and suddenly there were five and a half pages. I don't even have a really fitting name for this any more, someone can come up with one if they want for the poll.
Obvious or not, I ended up drawing a couple different ideas from Azure Striker Gunvolt, namely the Thunderbird(an Azure Striker, of course) and the unnamed Subject 4, based on both the Adept Stratos and Zaktan the Piraka from BIONICLE. 23 herself eventually does become something of a pseudo-villain within my other writing, adopting the name Necra, but here I guess it just didn't quite work out for whatever reason. If you ask me the piece suffers a little because of it, but your opinion may be different than mine.
Yes, I am aware I switch between different names for the two more involved characters. I couldn't figure out what to call them. Also yes, I know the PoV switch is a little jarring, that's just how it happened.

 

Edited April 15, 2019 by SoulWeaver
missed word added in, plus some additional notes

[TheSilentChloey]

42 minutes ago, SoulWeaver said:

BEHOLD A CONCEPT

  Reveal hidden contents

“So why do they have this girl all locked up like this anyway?”

Jalan looked over at his companion, startled. Roul was staring into the compartment, a frown on his fellow guard’s face.

“I mean, look at her - she can’t be older than 20, she’s just a kid. What could she have done to merit this? If I didn’t know better, I’d say those bars propping her up were nailed into her.”

Jalan turned and looked in himself, despite knowing what he’d see.

A young woman was confined in the compartment, her face peaceful behind the dark hair that fell in waves as she slumped in her confinements. The entire chamber was kept full of sedation gas to ensure she couldn’t stay conscious enough to even dream, as per protocol for criminals who reached Red Threat Level.

Outside of protocol, she also had no less than twelve metal bars that appeared to have been jammed through her body in various places, holding her upright, including one that seemed to go right through where her navel was.

Jalan took a deep breath.

“It’s because they are, Roul.”

“Huh?”

“Those bars.” Jalan motioned to the compartment. “They were nailed through her.”

Roul muttered something probably religious under his breath, looking back in.

“What on earth - how is she even still alive?! Wait, no, first, what could she have possibly done to merit that?!”

Jalan looked out at the mountainside flashing by the transport train as it rushed along.

“Most of what she did’s classified - I doubt even Melani knows more than a little about her. She did, however, get traced to upwards of thirty-two deaths in one month - it’s one of the few bits of info on her available.”

“Bull. We’ve transported serial killers before, none of them got anything near to this. Did you see the one stuck in her gut?”

“I just said most of it’s classified - Class Five, I heard.”

Roul blinked. Anything more secret than Class Three was generally kept from even the main government’s knowledge - the two of them only knew there were things even more secret because Jalan had an ongoing affair with their boss’s boss, Melani Trevach, and Jalan had been Roul’s best friend since before they could walk. In all the info Jalan had carefully wheedled out of his lover over the three years they’d been seeing each other, she had only mentioned one other instance of anything higher than Class Four - and it had been, as far as they could guess based on who was in on it, a matter of planetary security. Roul looked back at the girl with a new measure of concern.

“So that means if she gets out-”

“Chances are the whole world will get screwed.” Jalan nodded. “The only reason the public even knows about her is that the last seventeen of those deaths were in the Bosti Massacre. They couldn’t identify the bodies, supposedly she had to tell them which was who. Most gory killing on public record, and only two records Melani has access to - both Class Four - are considered worse.”

“And that’s just her public info?!” Roul’s squeaked a little despite himself as he stared at the girl, still looking deceptively peaceful in confinement.

“Melani says even her boss gets squeamish when this girl’s brought up.” Jalan said in a low voice. “She’s supposedly survived decapitation, hanging, burning, even a flaying I think. I know it sounds impossible, but...well, the fact that she’s still breathing with a spike through her windpipe should speak for itself.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know, Melani says she’s just referred to as part of ‘The Facility’s projects’ - Subject 23, I wanna say?”

Roul felt a chill.

“Sh-she’s from The Facility?!”

The World Council had voted to Class Three the work of The Facility after the results of their first project had been submitted for the Council’s approval before they went public. After their fifth project, official government records had it that it was shut down - in reality, they’d been upgraded to Class Four. Somehow, images of Subject 4 - a man whose body was made entirely of protoflies - were leaked during a hacking incident, so the public knew of The Facility, but chose to pretend they didn’t. People will be people, after all.

Roul and Jalan, thanks to Melani’s Class Four clearance, knew of 19 Projects from The Facility, ranging from a weaponized aphrodisiac to a trio of brothers who functioned under a single hive mind to a raccoon with human intelligence. That this girl was Subject 23 meant that The Facility’s projects had officially - or was it unofficially? - reached the point where it was too dangerous for even those people whose job it was to handle too-dangerous things to know about them.

Roul muttered another probably-religious exclamation under his breath, turned to say something…

And the power went out.

Both men froze, staring at each other with fear clawing at their chests as they felt the train begin to slow.

Transports like these had no fewer than five backup power systems to ensure things like this didn’t happen - they were, after all, only used for extremely dangerous criminals. It should have been impossible for a total system failure like this.

Of course, Jalan reflected, it also should have been impossible for the prisoner to still be-

Oh, no.

Roul realized it at the same time. Both men slowly looked at the compartment. Though the sedative gas was still slightly clouding the window, they could see it was slowly dissipating.

Someone had to have punctured the compartment somehow.

As Roul stepped forward, Jalen felt something.

“Roul, no!”

A blinding flash, and the window blew in, showering them both with glass. With the world barely visible, Jalen thought he saw yet another impossibility.

There was an angel in the transport.

Azure feathers fluttered down around him. One brushed his foot, and he jumped slightly at the electric feel of it. Three somethings hit his shoulder - darts, of some kind? - and the angel raised its hand.

Then, pain screamed through everything as his vision cycled through a hundred shades of blue until the world finally broke into black.

 

“JALEN!!!”

Roul screamed as his friend died spasming, blue lightning coursing through the air across Jalen’s frame. He struggled to get to his feet, brushing shards of glass away, and found a gun barrel touching his forehead.

“...Heh. After all this time, to think it would be so easy.”

Roul looked up into the face of death.

...It was surprisingly almost pretty.

“Tell you what.”

Brown hair with three streaks of silvery gray framed a girlish face, out of which piercing eyes - one blue, one gray - stared confidently, almost arrogantly, into Roul’s own.

“I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give you a choice.”

Some kind of almost military half uniform half jumpsuit, dark blue with maroon trim, tightly fit a slender body, doing little to hide a modest chest but also excellently showcasing muscular structure that rivaled Roul’s own - in a hand to hand fight, he wasn’t certain who would come out on top.

“Either get out of my way and live to tell your superiors what happened-”

This was, of course, discounting the fact that the woman in front of him had killed Jalen by throwing lightning at him.

“Or you can join the other guy and we’ll just let them find the wreck in a couple days.”

...What kind of choice was that?

Roul slowly raised his hands in the universal ‘I’m unarmed don’t hurt me’ gesture.

“That was my best friend you just murdered.”

“Killed, pal, there’s a difference.” The girl said, holstering her gun. “Sorry, man, them’s the breaks sometimes. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend or something you can hook up with now to help you get over it?”

“What kind of twisted mentality is that?!”

“Hey, I don’t know how you real world types work, that’s how it always goes in the books.”

She walked over to the compartment door as Roul tried to process that. Real world types?

“This door open?”

Roul shook his head.

“You need clearance way beyond what I have to get in there. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Meh,” The girl shrugged. “Kinda expected that - only expendables would get guard duty of someone like this. Lucky for me…”

She pulled her pistol out, shot the lock once, and reholstered it again.

“I can just do this.”

Blue electricity arced from her hand to the lock for about five seconds, then Roul heard a click.

“There we go! Now,” The girl flung the door open, letting the gas finish escaping, diluted enough by the regular air to not affect them. “Gotta finish the mission.”

“Mission?” It connected in Roul’s mind what she must have been here for. “Are you here to-”

“Kill the Deadie in there? Nah, even a Thunderbird can only do so much.” The...Thunderbird, whatever that was, walked into the compartment, and Roul, despite himself, leaned on the door to look in - his legs were a little sore after getting blown off his feet, and something to hold him up helped.

The prisoner - Subject 23 - was groggily trying to shake her head. She went to move her arms, but unfortunately, there was a metal bar jammed through both her wrists and one elbow.

“Oh wow,” The Thunderbird whistled. “They really didn’t want you getting out of here, princess. Too bad there are people who need you back more.”

Back...it clicked.

The Facility.

The transport had been attacked, no doubt, by the result of one of their Projects.

A woman who could throw lightning and hack a high security electronic lock within ten seconds.

Subject 23, meanwhile, seemed to have come to full consciousness, and jumped at the sight of the other girl.

“You!”

“Yep.” The Thunderbird smiled. “Thought you killed me on the way out, didn’tcha? They told me I could be the one to bring you back as payback - said I could have a little fun with you while I’m at it.” Her smile turned wicked. “Lucky you, eh?”

Her gun came up, and she left three darts in a line up 23’s chest, then snapped her fingers.

Lightning jumped from her hand to the prisoner, focusing around the three darts. Subject 23 yelled, twisting against the bars holding her in place as the Thunderbird girl laughed.

“Ah, that’s a great sound. You realize how hard it is to yell with a slit throat? Wait, no-”

She viciously kicked 23 in the knee, and Roul heard a snap as the girl yelled again.

“-That was me who had to find that out, bitch.”

Surprisingly, the prisoner didn’t seem too distracted by her broken knee, or the blood running from around almost every bar jammed into her.

“...My name is-AAAGH!”

“What makes you think I care what you call yourself?” The Thunderbird scoffed as she jolted 23 around with another blast of electricity. “None of us have names, princess, you know that. Now scream a little louder, and we can get this over with quick.”

Roul could only watch, sickened. To her credit, 23 refused to let her yells grow to full screams, fighting her torturer in the only way she could. If anything, though, the effort made her thrash against the bars even harder - it almost looked like she was trying to thrash as hard as she…

With a rrrrrip and a real scream, 23’s left arm tore off at the shoulder.

Roul threw up.

“Oh, that’s disgusting.”

The Thunderbird girl recoiled at the sight of the arm hanging from the bar through its wrist, shaking her head.

“Goodness, you just gotta ruin my fun by making it gross with your Deadie stuff, huh?”

She reached out, grabbed the wrist of the arm, and yanked, ripping it off the bar and dropping it to the floor.

“All the good that did you, princess.” She shrugged. “Now you’re down an arm, and you’ve managed to put a nice big rip in your gut. Bit more thrashing like that and you’ll tear right through yourself, and then who cares if you got off the bars, you’re still stuck on the floor of a transport container in the middle of nowhere with only one arm. What were you even trying to do, anyways?”

23 just hung there, panting from what must have been immense pain. Oddly enough, there wasn’t as much blood running from the gaping wound where her left arm used to start as Roul would have thought.

“Hmph. Well, I think we’ll cut you down and let you thrash a little more.” The Thunderbird said, pulling out a laser cutter and slicing through the bars until 23 collapsed to the floor. She leaned down and yanked each bar piece out of the girl, seeming to revel in the cries of pain she made.

“Alright, let’s have some more fun, shall we?”

“Look, stop it.” Roul surprised himself more than he did her as she looked at him. “You got your revenge, she screamed nice and loud like you wanted - heck, her arm is on the floor a full arm’s length away from her. Just take her wherever you were supposed to take her.”

“You trying to get me to rescind my earlier offer?” The Thunderbird snapped angrily. “Cause I’m down to leave you like the other guy.”

“It won’t make a real difference.” Roul said. “You’re still just a bitch who-”

The dart and electricity hit at almost the same time, bringing Roul to the floor. However, a sudden thud and cry of pain cut the electricity off, and Roul forced himself to look up to see a bizarre sight.

23 had somehow regained her feet despite her broken knee, and had struck the Thunderbird with the closest thing at hand - her own disembodied arm. The two now faced each other, 23’s eyes tired but determined, the Thunderbird girl’s angry.

“You really wanna pick a fight with me here, princess?” She snapped. “You can’t hit me for squat if I don’t want you to, you don’t have that magnetic knife this time.”

“...Don’t I?”

23 reached up and grabbed something in her bloody left shoulder, ripping a sheathed blade from where it had been embedded in her flesh with a grunt of pain. She flicked the clasp and the sheath fell to the floor as her opponent unconsciously took a step back.

“The hell, you stored that thing in you?!” She cried. “That’s disgusting!”

“Fair trade.” 23 said softly. “An arm for the only way I could kill you. Still want to try and make me come back? You could come with me, you know.”

In response, Thunderbird shot twice. 23 dodged the darts, and threw herself at her foe, stumbling through bursts of blue lightning as she tackled the girl to the floor, brought her arm up, and swung it down.

“...Figured out my mistake.” 23 muttered, staring down at the knife now jutting from between the other girl’s shoulder blades. “I should have left it in you last time. Can’t heal with a big piece of metal magnetically drawing all the electrons into itself, right?”

The Thunderbird girl’s lips moved, but only blood came out - 23 had successfully slit her throat during the tackle. She stared, terrified, at the girl pinning her arms down, preventing her from removing the blade, and tried again to gasp for air, only succeeding in forcing herself to start choking on her own blood. In her desperate, dying struggles, electricity began pouring from her, forcing 23 off in her own spasms of pain. Shortly, though, the electricity wound down and stopped.

Roul waited a full five minutes before approaching the bodies sprawled on the floor. The Thunderbird girl was dead, her eyes staring blankly up with a vague panicked look still on her face. Subject 23, as far as he could tell, was dead too - not even a heartbeat. Jalen had said she’d been ‘killed’ before, though, so who knew.

Jalen! Roul quickly rushed to his friend’s body. I’m so sorry, my friend, he thought. I wish I could have done something to save you. He looked back at the bodies in the compartment, thinking.

The route the transport had taken went within five miles of a village. If - a big if - they were close enough to that point, Roul could probably make it there and call in for help, and...then what? That was a five mile hike, and his leg felt like it wouldn’t last a quarter of a mile.

He looked down at Jalen’s face.

...He’d make it. He had to, or else stay up here, alone. He assumed the rest of the crew had been killed or else fled once the transport had stopped. Roul forced himself to his feet, and made his way to the next car, forcing the door open after much longer than he would have liked. He took a supply pack, went to the broken window, looked back at the bodies once, and began to walk.

*le gasp* SoulWeaver knows big boy words?!

Author's Notes(Post-Read please):

  Reveal hidden contents

Wow I can't stay on a prompt to save my life. 23 was supposed to be the villain, she was supposed to casually break out and leave, then somehow this happened. Eh, better than nothing, I sat down to write a paragraph or two and suddenly there were five and a half pages. I don't even have a really fitting name for this any more, someone can come up with one if they want for the poll.
Yes, I am aware I switch between different names for the two more involved characters. I couldn't figure out what to call them. Also yes, I know the PoV switch is a little jarring, that's just how it happened. Maybe I'll write more notes tomorrow when I'm not tired and trying to finally get ShadowScythe General.

 

Ohh this read like a thriller!  Dude I likes!

[Anacybele]

I thought I didn't have enough time left, but I got my entry written after all! :D I like how it turned out, I hope others enjoy it. A spoiler tag at the end of this post has a small note.

Title: More Than a Friend
Fandom: The Legend of Zelda (Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask)
Words: 2632

Spoiler

More Than a Friend

"Hyah!"

 

"Hinh!"

 

"Yaah!"

 

The sounds of two weapons clashing echoed throughout the Hyrule Castle training grounds. A few other soldiers and knights were present and training as well, but no spar had garnered as much attention as the one between a young blonde woman in bluish green clothing and the general of the Hyrulean knights himself. A young man with dusty brown hair, the general mostly stood his ground and did not move a lot while the woman darted all around him whenever she could.

 

"Heh, not bad," the general commented when the woman side-leaped to avoid one of his blows.

 

"Same to you, Judo," the woman replied with a smile. "I've never faced anything like your strength! Not even many monsters I've had to kill come close."

 

"Thanks! But even against you, Kel, I can't let up. And I don't want you to either!"

 

"Oh, I never will, don't you worry."

 

With that, the two continued trading and avoiding strikes as much as they could. By now, both had a few scrapes and cuts from near misses, but neither had taken anything close to a blow that would force a defeat. Eventually, the two found themselves panting and exhaustion setting in. Both knew they wouldn't be able to go on much longer like that.

 

"Hey... I'm getting pooped," Judo said. "Why not call it a draw, Kel?"

 

"Good idea, I'm not sure I can take much more either," Kelli agreed as the two sheathed their weapons. "You're really something else!"

 

"Thanks. And same to you. Kelli, you just might be the strongest opponent I've ever faced!" Judo commented. "Aside from Link, that is, since he's pretty strong in his own right. Still can't beat me yet though, heh heh."

 

"Well, Judo, we'll see if I eventually can do what my cousin can't!" Kelli replied with a grin.

 

"Ha ha, just don't tell him that. He doesn't like admitting it, but he's miffed that he keeps losing."

 

"Heh, perhaps Link ought to use that new cat of his then."

 

Kelli let out a chuckle with her comment.

 

"...Oh like hell he will!" Judo protested. "I told him that little beast needs to stay far away from me."

 

"Oh relax, I'm kidding. I think Hero is a darling though. Never imagined Link to be a cat person, but it works!"

 

"For him, maybe."

 

As the two friends talked, the bystanders that had witnessed some or all of their duel and clapped for them. Some also thanked them for the impressive show of skill. Appreciative of the comments, they resumed their conversation after.

 

"Well, in all seriousness, Judo, you're just so amazingly strong. No one should feel bad about losing to you," Kelli pointed out.

 

"Heh, thanks. But I can say the same of you as well," Judo replied. "You're so fast that I can't really keep up! I don't have much speed in this armor, so I'm forced to stand my ground against you all the time."

 

"Aw, I'm glad I can give you a good fight," Kelli said, a big smile forming on her features. "Your pure strength more than makes up for any lack of speed though! You shoved me backward like I was a bedroom door!"

 

"Heh heh, I do take some pride in these muscles," Judo admitted and rather theatrically brought up his right arm to flex. "Years of training and workouts made me the knight I am. I'm always glad it all paid off."

 

"I bet! I am too," Kelli agreed, her smile taking on a more caring feel. "It's like I had told you before. I'm proud of the goofy boy I spent my childhood with becoming someone so important and valuable to Hyrule."

 

"Ah shucks..." Judo replied, scratching the back of his head. "Thanks so much. And you know I've always been proud of you doing the same."

 

"And I thank you too, Judo."

 

With that, Kelli wasn't hesitant to jump into Judo's torso and wrap her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He was taller than her by a few inches, as well as taller than Link, so she nearly had to stand on her tip toes to be eye to eye with him.

 

"I won't ever stop being that goof for you either, you know," Judo said as he returned her hug. "I never could."

 

"Oh, Judo. I can't even imagine that anyway," Kelli commented with a chuckle as the two parted.

 

"Heh, that is hard to picture, isn't it? Me, without my jokes and laughter! Why, that'd be like Link not having connections!'

 

"You got that right!" Kelli agreed, and then paused a moment before speaking again and coming to a realization. "...Wait a second! That was a joke in itself, wasn't it? Because Link's name literally means connection. You are still a goofball alright!"

 

"Ha ha ha, you picked that one up!" Judo revealed and shot her a goofy grin and a wink. "That's me, Goofball Knight extraordinaire!"

 

Kelli then couldn't help but break out into laughter herself.

 

"Oh, Judo, I---!" she then began, but suddenly stopped herself. "Oh, um..."

 

"Hm?"

 

"Ah, nothing, sorry. I just remembered that Zelda asked me to help her with something after our spar. I should go meet her now."

 

"Oh, okay then, see you later. And we need to spar again, of course!"

 

"Oh, I look forward to it!"

 

With that, Kelli quickly began heading inside the castle. Judo watched until she disappeared inside the nearest doors, not realizing his cheeks faded into a rosy red. His trance was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice behind him.

 

"Heh, bravo. Bravo," the voice said, clapping slowly.

 

"Huh?" Judo said, turning around. He beheld one of the Hylian soldiers that were not given the title of knight or rode horses as the knights did. Instead, they usually patrolled the castle and castle grounds. This particular soldier was high ranked as well, as his armor was more elaborate than many of the other troops. He carried a spear and shield with him. A shield was something else lower ranking soldiers did not have. This soldier flipped back a strand of his dark reddish brown hair.

 

"That was quite an impressive showing you and Kelli gave us, General," the soldier continued.

 

"Oh, thank you. You must be a captain of one of the infantry platoons," Judo deduced.

 

"That I am. Captain Garrick, at your service."

 

"I see. Pleasure."

 

"Indeed. I have a question though," Garrick said. "I always wondered why Kelli fights. Why she was chosen to wield that sword and shield of hers. The Sun Sword, wasn't it? And the shield has the same name. That story of her and Sir Link almost literally digging up ancient weapons predating even the Master Sword has gone around lately since that war we all fought against so many unusual monsters. Sir Link of all people wielding the dark power of the Moon Sword, who'd have thunk?"

 

"I've noticed. Even I've talked about it. But what do you mean why does Kelli fight? She does because she needs to and she's highly skilled," Judo replied, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Oh, I don't deny her skill," Garrick admitted, but then chuckled. "It's as I said, I wonder why she was chosen for it. They say those weapons choose their wielders like the Master Sword. Link is a fine pick. But Kelli is a highly odd choice. Why not a man of your caliber instead? You've just shown that you have what it takes."

 

At this, Judo blinked.

 

"...What's that supposed to mean? That Kelli shouldn't have been picked because she's a woman?"

 

"Eh, more or less, I suppose. Come now, we both know men will always be the strong ones, the real fighters. Women? Even if one can fight well, she could never match a man who fights at the peak of his skill level. We just saw right now that Kelli couldn't beat you!"

 

"...What? Why the hell does that even matter?!" Judo retorted, his blood beginning to boil at this guy.

 

"I guess for the sake of our kingdom's future," Garrick explained. "Also, what could women who fight do when they want to find a husband and settle down? Women are the ones who carry and birth children, feed them when they're infants, and so on. They can't do those responsibilities if they're fighting. Especially if they're injured in...certain places."

 

"What did you just say?!"

 

Before Garrick could respond, an ebony haired knight sporting armor more elaborate than others, but not quite on the level of Judo's approached, having seen and overheard some of the conversation.

 

"Hey, Judo, what's going on here?" he wondered. "Everything okay?"

 

"Oh, Conan. This idiot's just getting on my nerves and spewing nonsense about Kelli that I can't wrap my head around," Judo irritatingly explained to his deputy commander.

 

"..."Nonsense?" Ha, like you'd really understand, I suppose. You and Kelli are pretty close, huh?" Garrick pointed out. "Can't imagine why. One other thing I've yet to mention is that all that fighting and training makes her so unattractive too. The battle scars, her plain blonde hair, and her curves seem a bit faded too. She'd probably have a lot of trouble finding a husband anyway even if she wanted."

 

"WHAT?!" Judo thundered. "Well you can just screw the hell off, you sexist bastard!"

 

"Whoa! Judo, calm down," Conan said, stepping in front of his superior. "This guy isn't worth it."

 

"Well I won't stand here and let someone insult Kelli like that just because she's a woman!" Judo replied and then turned to Garrick again. "I swear on my life if you go anywhere near her with that horse dung you're flinging, I'll make sure YOU NEVER LIFT A WEAPON AGAIN!"

 

"Ho ho," Garrick said, raising his eyebrows. "I must've hit quite a nerve there. ...Wait, I think I get it now. You're actually in love with her, aren't you?"

 

"...Uh...huh?!" Judo sputtered, suddenly going from a rage red to a more embarrassed rosy shade. "I-I am not! She's just my best friend."

 

"Suuure. But my, you must have the worst taste in women."

 

In an instant, Judo's face went back to the rage red again. He couldn't hold himself back this time either, as he rushed around Conan to grab Garrick by the collar of his silvery blue tunic and throw him as hard as he could into a pair of wooden training dummies nearby. The dummies shattered upon the impact as Garrick was dazed and lay there shaken up. Conan quickly approached Judo again, gaping at what he'd just witnessed his superior officer do.

 

"Judo! Goddesses, get a hold of yourself! I told you this imbecile wasn't worth it!" he said. "Come on, let's go before this gets any worse."

 

"...Yeah, you're right," Judo agreed. "I'm sorry. We have better things to do anyway."

 

"Right."

 

With that, the two headed for the same castle doors that Kelli herself had gone through earlier. Judo sighed as he allowed himself to calm down and regain his composure. He was realizing now that what he'd done was certainly not the way a general should behave, even if he was still young and inexperienced in the position. Only Conan and Garrick appeared to have any knowledge of the incident, but someone like the latter surely might report it. Judo could only hope that none of his men or anyone in the castle would think any less of him because of it if they found out.

 

"Judo, I won't lie, I can't believe you did that back there," Conan spoke up after stopping at the doors. "What if King Daphnes hears of this? He would certainly not be pleased at all. Even if he would also find what that guy said as repulsive as we do."

 

"I...I know," Judo admitted. "It was wrong of me. As a general, I have to keep my composure better. Lashing out at people like that is not an example I should be setting for my men. I'm lucky no one besides you really saw it."

 

"Indeed. They see you just tossing around anyone that makes you angry and that will reflect badly on all of us and even King Daphnes and Princess Zelda. It's not how you handle a situation maturely."

 

"Yeah... Damn, I feel terrible now. I hope Kelli doesn't find out about this. She'd probably scream at me."

 

"Maybe. But I bet she'd also appreciate how adamantly you wanted to defend her."

 

Conan then shot his friend a sly grin.

 

"...And what are you insinuating?" Judo inquired, a hand on his hip.

 

"What? Shouldn't Kelli appreciate you defending her?" Conan said, still smiling.

 

"Well, yeah, but your tone and that grin make me think you have more in mind than that."

 

"Ah. Well, I do think Garrick was right about one thing, to be honest."

 

At this, Judo paused for a moment, and then his cheeks faded into that more embarrassed rosy red once again.

 

"...You're talking about him saying I'm in love with Kelli," Judo guessed.

 

"Mmhm. And you always tell me my intuition is good, you know," Conan pointed out. "Hey, I'm not going to insult you or her like that fool did. As far as I can see, you and Kelli are meant for one another."

 

Judo couldn't help but allow a huge grin form on his features, even though his cheeks remained rosy.

 

"Well...thanks," he said. "I do hope you're right about that. And you and Mr. Sexist are right about that comment too, honestly. I've never felt about anyone the way I do about Kelli. I love her with everything in my heart. And this is the first time I've ever admitted to it and maybe even realized it. Heck, I might have even loved her when we were kids. It's just being kids, we don't really think about those things, I suppose."

 

"Oh, I can imagine," Conan commented with a smile. "I also can't imagine that Kelli doesn't love you as well. You should go tell her sometime."

 

"...Yeah, I hope. And I know just where to do that. There's no better place than our favorite hangout next to the Kakariko Village windmill," Judo decided. "I only have no idea how to do it. I feel like I'm just going to make a fool of myself."

 

"...You? Make a fool of yourself at Kelli? Is that even possible?"

 

"Oh shut up! Just because I like telling jokes, making people laugh, and pulling goofy shenanigans doesn't mean I can't embarrass myself or someone else."

 

"Oh, of course, I was just giving you a hard time," Conan admitted with a laugh. "But don't worry. All you can really do is be yourself and do your best. And knowing you, you can make it a moment Kelli would never forget."

 

"Heh... Yeah, I think you're right. I'll do it next time we go to our hangout."

 

"Great! I'm rooting for you both. And Sir Link and Princess Zelda would say the same. Oh, but be sure to let us know when the wedding is! And if I'm the best man!"

 

"Hey, one step at a time here! Sheesh!"

 

"Heh heh. Just trying to have fun with you."

 

"Yeah, I do appreciate that. Thanks so much, Conan. I probably say this a lot, but I really don't know what I'd do without you. You have so much good advice, on and off the battlefield."

 

"Ah, I'm just trying to be a good friend and ally is all," Conan admitted, somewhat bashful himself now.

 

"Hey, don't be so humble. You deserve the praise," Judo insisted.

 

"Aw, thanks."

 

The two then shared pleasant smiles as they finally went inside the castle to call it a day.

 

Spoiler

If anyone didn't already guess, when Kelli says "Oh, Judo I--!" she actually almost said "Oh, Judo, I love you!" ;) Oh yeah, she is of course a different Kelli from the one I use as my Robin in my Awakening stories.

 

Edited April 13, 2019 by Anacybele

[Jotari]

I have something pending that I need to put the finishing touches on. Unfortunately I've been busy traveling the past few days. I'll probably get it done in time if I remember to write tomorrow evening, but in case I don't, would anyone object to a very brief extension. Basically just a day or two?

[Ottservia]

I wouldn’t would give me enough time to finish my piece

[AnonymousSpeed]

4 hours ago, Jotari said:

Would anyone object to a very brief extension. Basically just a day or two?

 

4 hours ago, Ottservia said:

I wouldn’t would give me enough time to finish my piece

As host, I feel like I have the authority to do this, but I do have some questions about it. Would this extension cut into judging time, or push everything back a day (or two)?

I have no idea why this highlight showed up on my text but it's kinda weird so I'm going to leave it.

[Anacybele]

I guess I wouldn't object seeing as I actually managed to finish an entry. One or two days isn't long.

[Ottservia]

6 hours ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

 

As host, I feel like I have the authority to do this, but I do have some questions about it. Would this extension cut into judging time, or push everything back a day (or two)?

I have no idea why this highlight showed up on my text but it's kinda weird so I'm going to leave it.

I’d assume it would just push everything back a couple days unless that would complicate things too much

[AnonymousSpeed]

Opening post is updated with a new countdown. Hopefully an extra day is helpful to y'all!

As much as I like having the writing phase end with the weekend, there's no problem pushing things back unless people object. Of course, depending on how quickly judging proceeds, we might be able to keep the same schedule. It's either way.

[Jotari]

Alright. Here's mine. Would have got it in before the initial deadline, but the knowledge of knowing I don't need to rush it helped.

Title: The Armada

Wordcount: 3178

Spoiler

“We’re coming up to our landing spot now,” the pilot shouted back to me in a thick African accent.

               I looked out the side of the helicopter. All I could see was ocean. “Where are we?” I yelled. 

              “The closest landmass is Corisco.” Despite his thick accent, the pilot spoke English very fluently. Each word was said with precise precision and certainty. “But we won’t be landing there.”

               “Where will we be landing?”

               The pilot ignored me. I grasped the support rail and poked my head out of the open door to better see what was in front of us. The shock of it nearly caused me to lose my grip. Behind us was the open ocean, no land visible for miles. In front of us, was a massive fleet of warships, stretching all the way to the horizon. We continued flying until the ships behind us similarly vanished over the curve of the Earth. At that point, in every direction I looked, there were dozens of ships, all of them supporting the black and brown flag of the West African Union.

               “I didn’t think there were this many ships in the world.”

               “There wasn’t,” the pilot said.

               “How on Earth do you maintain them all?”

               Again, the pilot ignored me.

               Eventually the helicopter lowered and landed on one of the battle ships. On a deck chair laying in the shade of an umbrella a large man wearing a pair of sunglasses. His skin was black. Not just racially black, but actually pure dark ebony the likes of which I’d never seen before. He wore only a pair of shorts, his large muscular chest on clear display.

               I got out of the helicopter which almost immediately began lifting off again. “Welcome to my kingdom,” the man said in a deep, heavy voice once the helicopter was distant enough to allow a natural speaking volume.

               The deck of the ship was empty aside from the two of us. “You are Chief Koen?” I ask.

               “I am. Are you ready for my interview?”

               “Just one second.” I removed the tape recorder from my bag and looked around for somewhere to set it down, but there were no tables or other chairs nearby. I turned the tape recorder on and held it in my hand. “Okay. Thank you for agreeing to speak to me Mr Koen.”

               “The pleasure is all mine.” He looked directly at me, but a pair of dark glasses obscured his eyes leaving me uncertain as to where his gaze actually lay.

               “Alright, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

               “What do they say of me in your country?” he asked.

               “We don’t know much,” I admitted. “You’re a bit of an enigma.”

               He nodded. “I see. I expect your spies know every detail about my life, but of course they wouldn’t share that with you.”

               “Eh no, I guess not.”

               There was a moment’s pause before Koen started speaking again. “You look at me and you probably think I am African. In truth I was born in the land you call Australia to the Kitajata tribe. As a young child it was discovered that I had a great aptitude for mathematics. We lived far away from what you call civilisation, but we still had mathematics, and my tribe recognised my talent. They sought out the white men and explained my abilities to them. They were proud, they wanted to shock everyone with my ability. To their disappointment all the equations I had invented had already been discovered, and I was seen as little more than a promising student. I was granted scholarship to an international school in Darwin. Throughout my adolescence I grew up in the presence of rich children who hailed from every corner of the globe.” He paused. “Do you have any questions?”

               “No, please, go on.”

               “I received another scholarship for a higher level education in any Australian university of my choice. Rather than attend, I took the money and decided to travel the world and see for myself the things I’d learned about.”

There was another pause. “Go on,” I urged. It was difficult to hold back how excited I was. This was information people had speculated about the ruler of the WAU for years.

“Nominally my people were conquered by yours. But I did not grow up in servitude. In the Outback we were free to live as we have for fifty thousand years. I caught my first glimpse of servitude when I went to Hokkaido in Japan. There I met the Ainu. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Ainu?”

“No,” I admitted.

“They are people group with fair skin in northern Japan. Though they are Asian, they are hairy. Hairier than you or I. They are some of the oldest people in Asia, and now they are all but extinct. Victims of genocide, just like my people and the natives of the Americas. The genocide of the aborigine never shocked me growing up. I had never suffered directly, and any of the programs designed to destroy us seemed like remote things of the distant past. That is why I was shocked to learn how recent the destruction of the Ainu people was. Imperial Japan declared them Aborigines, who had secretly invaded Japan. They passed a law that denied them their culture and their identity. Slowly, and systematically, they were destroyed. This act was only revoked in 2008. I was enraged to hear this. I tried to convince the Ainu to rebel against Japan. To take back their island, take back their identity. I even learned Japanese to better communicate with them. But their spirit was gone. They were a broken and defeated people. Most of them refused to even acknowledge their ancestry in fear of discrimination that still lingered. I was educated in the most prestigious curriculums in the world for twelve years, yet never once had I been informed of the plight of the Ainu. Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Why do you think it is?”

He laughed. “You’re a good interviewer. You only want to hear me talk.” He looked upwards towards the shining sky. “I suppose it’s because the Japanese aren’t white. It’s okay for people to hate the Europeans for their conquering of the Americas and Australia. The European colonialist were monsters. But the Japanese, they were Asian. They were victims like everyone else. They even got struck my nuclear bombs. How could people treat them like anything but the victims of European conquest? This is all despite the fact that Imperial Japan tried to establish their only colonies in East Asia and committed crimes far worse than the Nazis or the Soviets during World War II. Don’t get me wrong though. The Europeans were monsters, even the British and the French who pretended to be righteous. I just find it curious how Imperial Japan is forgiven, while to this day the Nazis are hailed as ultimate evil. I grow thirsty.” He picked up a walkie-talkie. “Narobe. Bring my guest and me something to drink.”

               “What did you do after visiting Japan?”

               “If I could I would have stayed in Japan. Sparked the Ainu into rebellion. But I found it impossible. And so my next destination was Mongolia. I wanted to see the birth place of a man who had long fascinated me. Can you guess who?”

               “Genghis Kahn, I suppose.”

               He laughed again. “Yes, you are correct. Who else? Can you name a single other Mongolian?”

               “His Grandson, Kublai Kahn.”

               “Hmm. Yes. Anyone else?”

               “No. Not off the top of my head.”

               “I couldn’t either. But I knew Genghis, king of kings. As a child he was a slave. He had nothing, was treated as less than human. Yet he forged the largest empire the world had ever known. The Mongolians then are nothing like what they are now. Now they are a defeated people, barely a million of them in a large expansive land. Unlike the Ainu however, they have pride in who they are. They love Genghis. He was a mass murderer who delighted in conquest, yet he is there’s. He is responsible for the death of millions. Fear of his hoard caused people to flee like no other event in history. To this day, no one has murdered more than the Mongols; and Genghis, the one responsible for it all, he is venerated. I wonder if in a thousand years Hitler will be treated the same. I see you’re frowning. You think it impossible? What is so unlikely about it? Ah, here are our drinks.”

               A woman in a red dress strolled across the deck carrying two glasses on a tray. Koen took them from her and handed one to me. “I’m fine,” I said.

               “Don’t worry,” he said with some amusement. “It’s not poisoned.”

               “I’m fine, really.”

               “Oh my sweet guest, it is a hot day, it would be remiss for me to allow you to go dehydrated. I insist.” The tone of his voice made it clear I had no choice, so I accepted. It seemed to be some kind of sweet liquor.

               “Thank you, Narobe,” the Chief said to the waitress. “Can you bring me the Watersam.”

               The woman bowed and made her way back inside. The Chief’s eyes followed her as she went. I stood their uncomfortably, the drink in one hand with nowhere to let it rest, and the tape recorder in the other.

               “I don’t respect Hitler,” Koen said, almost absentmindedly. “Don’t get me wrong when I say there will be statues of him in a thousand years. Such a failure deserves no veneration. Now Stalin, there’s a man I can respect. His origins were even more unassuming than Genghis’s, and he too created one of the greatest nations in the world. Perhaps he was the last truly great man in our history books.”

               “I don’t think killing millions of people should be considered great,” I said.

               Koen smiled. “Ah, so you do have some opinions of your own. Good for you. Categorically, you’re wrong however. Greatness just means largeness of scope. And that, Stalin very much was.”

               “But admiring someone just for being…big. That’s…senseless.”

               “You think so? What better reason is there to admire someone. Making a difference, having some kind of presence in the world, isn’t that what every human craves. Why did you become a reporter? The kind of reporter who go to far flung parts of the world to interview an African dictator?”

               I was silenced. Unable to think of an adequate rebuttal.

               “Even the desire to reproduce, our most basic instinct, that is just a desire to make some kind of impact on the world. I have no children. Because I see it as a small, paltry endeavour. I follow the principle of, go big, or go home.”

               The waitress returned carrying a laptop and a gun on the silver tray. Koen took the laptop and opened it, leaving the gun and the tray on the ground. The light from the screen illuminated his face under the shade of the umbrella. I could see the screen in the reflection of his glasses, though I couldn’t quite make out what he was doing. A large droning suddenly filled the air. “What’s that?” I asked.

               “That is the air armada. I want to show you everything I have.”

               I looked up to see the sky had suddenly filled with helicopters. They were flying in formation, seemingly motionless. “Why is it you put so much focus on military development?” I asked.  

               “Bah,” he said, visibly annoyed for the first time. “You, an American, have the gal to ask me that. You who wastes more money than anyone else in the world on the military.”

               “Well personally I’m against the size of the defense budget.”

               “It’s not the size of it that’s the problem,” he said. “It’s the uselessness of it. You spent ten times more than anyone else, yet you’re not ten times stronger. Do you want to see what a truly powerful military is like?” Without taking his eyes away from the laptop, he pointed at the sky. “Choose one.

               “What do you mean?”

               “Point out a helicopter to me.”

               I shrugged. “Okay, that one.”

               Koen  closed the laptop, stepped out from under the umbrella and looked to where I was pointing. He picked up his walkie-talkie and fiddled with the numbers. “AAV 655, respond.”

               “AAV 655, sir,” came a voice from the walkie-talkie.

“Descend thirty meters.”

               One of the helicopters in the direction I’d pointed broke formation and lowered itself. “That one? You’re sure?”

               “What’s this all about?” I asked.

               “Are you sure you this is the helicopter you pointed to?”

               “Yes,” I said, somewhat angrily now.

               “Very well. Pilot, what’s your name?”

               “Maria Mutanda, sir.” She sounded no more than sixteen.

               “Maria, this is your chief speaking. I have a guest with me who wishes to see the might and dedication of the WAU. I humbly ask you to sacrifice your life for this cause.”

               “What?” I started.

               “Fly yourself into the ocean,” Koen said.

               “What Africa desires,” the young pilot replied.

               “Wait, what are you doing?” I said. “Rescind that order.”

               Koen looked at me. “It isn’t an order.” He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie. “Get as close to the flagship as you can. I want my friend to see everything.”

               “Roger, sir.”

               “Fear not my child. Your name shall be enshrined in the Tower of Heroes.”

               Horrified by what I was about to witness, my eyes took to the sky where the helicopter was. It was pointing downwards now in a sharp vertical drop. “Please,” I begged. “There is no need to do this. Stop it, please.”

               “It cannot be stopped.” He tossed the walky-talky too me, Acting on instinct, I dropped my glass and my recorder to catch it. “Try if you will. The settings are already in, you just need to press the button on the side.”

               “Abort,” I screamed into the walky-talky. “This is your chief. Abort, abort. Ignore that last order.” But I got no response. Seconds later there was a loud crash as the helicopter hit the ocean surface.

               “Our choppers are made well,” Koen said. “We’re not too distant from land, so the pressure shouldn’t be too much. The armour will keep the vehicle intact. If she’s lucky, the impact has broken her neck. Otherwise she will die over the next few hours as she slowly runs out of oxygen.” He took a step closer, the full size of his mass casting a shadow over me. Almost gently, he took the walkie-talkie out of my trembling hand. “Narobe, make a memo to recover the helicopter and the pilot’s body tomorrow.”

               I sank to the ground. “Why did you do that? There was no need.”

               “There was every need.” He bent down and returned my recorder to me. “You’ve yet to realise your place in all this. You’re not here for a single interview, you’re here to chronical my quest.”

               “Your quest?”

               “Yes.” He raised the walkie-talkie. “All units, move out.” The engine of the ship suddenly surged to life. “Nukes changed the game of war. Made conquest a thing of the past. This seems to be the only solution. To avoid destruction, one must avoid detection.”

               “Where are we going?”

               “New York.”

               “New…New York?”

               “Your home city, right? It’s the only reason I agreed to your interview. It is to be your baptism of fire. Once you see that, you will know this is all for real.”

               “What do you mean? What are you going to do in New York?”

               “Sack it.” He wandered towards the front of the ship and placed his hands on the guard rails. “You westerners aren’t conquerors. Not truly. Not like the real warlords. You’re pirates. You commandeer continents and bleed them dry.” He turned to look at me, leaning on the rail. Behind him was the endless rows of ships and helicopters.

               “You’re insane! It’ll never succeed. We’ll blow you out of the ocean before you even reach international waters.”   

               “You’re militaries are in no position to do that. Take a look at your phone. I’ve shut down all satellites. No GPS, no internet, no banks. Everything will be in chaos when we arrive. They’ll never see it coming.”

               “That’s not possible.”

               “There’s over a billion people in the WAU. We might be starving, but still breed our geniuses. And a system dedicated to finding and fostering them will always be superior to your cut throat capitalism.”

               “You can’t. New York is full of innocent people.”

               “Innocent?” he said with anger and distaste. “There are no innocents in a democracy. Every one of you contributes to the crimes of your government. Its actions are your responsibility. As far as I’m concerned, every last person in the developed world is guilty of keeping the rest of the world on its knees, begging for scarps. But all that’s about the change. I’m going to wipe out your western world, like the Sea People who eradicated the empires of the Bronze Age.”

               “You’re just going to destroy. This isn’t going to create anything but suffering. How can you justify that?”

               “How can you justify the world you’ve created? The suicide rate of the modern world is ten times higher than any other era in history. All of our modern comforts have brought us misery. Humans are not designed to be happy. We crave strife, adversity.” He removed the glasses, revealing eyes almost as dark as his skin. “The world was better off a thousand years ago. I will balance humanity once more. I see you eyeing that gun on the ground. Go one, take it and shoot me if you dare. I know you won’t however. You don’t even have the balls to pick it up. Not because you’re afraid of killing me, but because you’re afraid of dying yourself. In time, as you learn to see the world through my eyes, as my biographer, you will lose that fear. You will learn that the only thing in this life worth running away from, is your own weakness. Under my wing, you will release your compunctions. You will become a being who cares nothing of the opinions of others.” He held out his hands. “A man truly free to do what you desire, not for the sake of happiness, but for the sake of living. Just like every member of this military. You will be given a gun once more, but this time you will not think of shooting me. For you too will hail me. Not as a god or a king, but as your tribal chief. As the one destined to lead us, not through legal or regal force, but through ego. Through a Desire to Become greater than yours. Greater than anyone’s.” He turned and looked out over the ocean before him. “Get ready my new friend. This world is about to change very, very quickly.”

 

My own thoughts

Spoiler

Not sure how this turned out. The viewpoint character didn't jump out at me at all and I think that makes the villain, and thus the piece over all weaker. He needs something stronger to bounce off of. Oh well. We'll see how it goes.

 

[SoulWeaver]

On 4/11/2019 at 12:19 AM, TheSilentChloey said:

Ohh this read like a thriller!  Dude I likes!

Oh good, I wasn't sure if it was any good considering everything in it bar Necra herself was thrown together on the spot. The main difficulty I currently have with it is that now I have to actually work on backstory for this backstory, plus explain how she went psycho by the time she first meets Arilon. Should be fun once I finally get around to it considering my huge writing backlog even discounting catching up with you.