Hard Light Productions Forums

Off-Topic Discussion => General Discussion => Topic started by: Unknown Target on January 25, 2005, 05:10:43 pm

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 25, 2005, 05:10:43 pm

I was bored today, and decided that the old one was too far gone to salvage. Plus, I wanted to rewrite it with my improved skills, and closer to the actual format.
Not saying I'll finish, but I hope you all enjoy:

FADE IN:

SCENE ONE. EXT. HARD LIGHT PRODUCTIONS STATION - DAY.


A lilting tune is playing in the background. We are running across a metal landscape, the barren steel flashing beneath us, framed against a massive stellar sky.

SHRIKE: (Voice over) When wEvil came we were unprepared�E

A few charred burn marks and pits obscure the pristine surface beneath us, eventually leading into a giant hole. For a split second, we get a glimpse inside, and see flashes of welding torches and construction. We continue onward at the same breakneck pace.

SHRIKE: (Voice over) Had it not been for the few brave heroes that rose to meet the challenge�E

Cut to:

SCENE TWO. INT. GRAVEYARD - DAY.

Flashback. We are in the aftermath of the war, and are hovering in large hanger-like room�Erom our vantage point high above the floor, we can see thousands of body bags, lined in rows, both friend and foe laying next to another as far as the eye can see.

SHRIKE: (Voice over) All would surely have been lost�E

Cut to:

SCENE THREE. INT. FORUM HEADQUARTERS - DAY.

We are back to the present time. We are now in the recently renovated FORUM CONTROL ROOM. It is a large rectangular room. In the center on a raised platform is a large half-moon table, with nine seats, each with a name plaque in front of it. Two of the seats are occupied, but it is too dark to see who they are specifically. Surrounding the table are banks of control panels, with forumites seated in front of them, doing various things. A door is situated behind the table.
Cut to a view in front of the door, the camera is lying on the floor. The ornate, false-wood double door swings open. All we can see is a fuzzy pair of bunny slippers. They take a few shuffling steps into the room, and the door swings shut behind them. The body attached to the slippers speaks.
MALE VOICE: (Grumbles something indistinct) I’m missing my nap�E

From the voice we can tell it is SHRIKE. He’s dressed in a very sporting yellow and purple dotted robe. Cut to an over the shoulder view of him as he surveys the room. He walks into the room, away from the camera, and sits down at his seat, rubbing his forehead gingerly. We cut to the same view above his shoulder. He turns towards the third seat. Sitting behind a stack of ruffled papers, we see GOOBER5000 turned towards him.

GOOBER5000: Sorry SHRIKE, but we�E

We hear a cough from the third admin seated. GOOBER5000 turns to look at the offender with a disdainful look, and then turns back to SHRIKE.

GOOBER5000: I�Ehought we should call you up for this one.

He shuffles through some papers. The camera turns slightly so that we see past his shoulder, and STYXX, the third admin, leans forward on his elbows.

STYXX: What he means to say is that someone has been stealing out of the weapons lockers.

SHRIKE: (woozily) I thought only we could open those�E

STYXX: Apparently, someone else can now.

SHRIKE sighs deeply and looks down, contemplating. He looks back up and squints.

SHRIKE: Everyone on the station has guns. Why do we care about this?

STYXX shoots a smug look at GOOBER5000, then sits back, hidden behind GOOBER5000’s form. GOOBER5000 looks back at him, then looks at his papers. Chopping his lips, he inhales sharply and looks back up at SHRIKE and gives a small, empty smile.

GOOBER5000: Well�Et’s not so much the guns�Eut that means they must have an admin key.
We cut to a view from behind GOOBER5000. We can see a male assistant holding a mug of coffee with “World’s Greatest Administrator�Eon it. He taps SHRIKE lightly on the shoulder. SHRIKE turns and takes it, smiling and nodding.

SHRIKE: Thank you.

He turns back to look at GOOBER5000, glancing over the top of his mug as he takes a long swig of it. He sets it down on the table.


SHRIKE: So why couldn’t you handle this on your own?

GOOBER5000 puts his hand to his mouth and coughs.

GOOBER5000: Well�Eaybe you should look for yourself?

SHRIKE takes another sip of his coffee.

SHRIKE: Oh?

GOOBER5000: (Coughs again nervously) Um�Elease, follow me.

SHRIKE sighs deeply and leans forward in his chair, rising up like an old man. He snatches the mug off of the table, and shuffles after GOOBER5000 and the other admins. He leads them over to an ASSISTANT sitting in front of a large video monitor. We cut to a view in front of them, so we can see all three of them. SHRIKE’s bare chest is visible where his robe separates, as are his happy face boxers. He takes another sip.

SHRIKE: Well?

GOOBER5000 taps the ASSISTANT on the shoulder.

GOOBER5000: Show the freezer room please.

The ASSISTANT types a few commands into the computer. The light falling on the gathering’s faces changes into a light blue tone. SHRIKE takes another swig, peeking over the top of the mug with one eye; the other closed in a half-sleep. Suddenly, his eye catches something. The other pops open and he leans forward, setting an arm on the desk. He lowers the mug. A puzzled expression comes over his face.

SHRIKE: This is what you called me up here for?

GOOBER5000: Um�Ees.

SHRIKE looks back at him and peers closer. We cut to a side view of his face and the video screen, his nose is only inches away. We cut to an angle just in front of his face, with GOOBER5000 visible just over his shoulder. SHRIKE turns to look at GOOBER5000.

SHRIKE: Is he�E

GOOBER5000: (Nods once) Yes.

SHRIKE turns back to the monitor. He looks for a few more minutes, then stands back up and takes another swig.

SHRIKE: Send someone to deal with him.

He turns and, patting GOOBER5000 on the back, shuffles back out the door. We hear it shut, and GOOBER5000 turns back to STYXX with a smug grin.

GOOBER5000: Told you so.

Cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Primus on January 25, 2005, 05:19:01 pm

Hey, you better finish it! I enjoyed it. It's good :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 25, 2005, 05:21:54 pm

Thanks.

For all the new guys, the first one (this is the sequel), is in my signature. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 25, 2005, 05:40:13 pm

You know, "the old one [that was] too far gone to salvage" was itself a rewrite (http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php/topic,13534.0.html).  So is this The Sequel, Take 3? ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 25, 2005, 06:07:22 pm

This is going to be a complete rewrite, from start to finish. The other "rewrite" was just adding things on after what I had done before ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: neo_hermes on January 25, 2005, 07:03:44 pm

Put me in the Story this time...as a new recruit or somethinreallyreally annoying

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on January 25, 2005, 07:08:13 pm

*volunteers self to be in movie*

Yo, UT, you da man for doin' this.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on January 25, 2005, 07:34:59 pm

I'm very dissapointed. I read through the entire thing and I'm not mentioned at all, and that's back when I was hosted. Is that what I get for saving Capella? :p

Just kidding, well written, and hopefully this one will be just as good.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Windrunner on January 26, 2005, 04:37:42 am

you better put me in there or else... ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 26, 2005, 05:37:16 am

I'll be turned into a newt? :p


SCENE FOUR. INT. FORUM READY ROOM. DAY.

We open to the familiar ready room, with only a few added items. All we see is the familiar weapons lockers and showers. Suddenly, from one of the doorways leading off to a different room, a MALE VOICE rings out.


MALE VOICE: Nico!

We hear a rustling. We cut to a mid-level view of a giant mound of empty beer bottles, pornographic magazines, etc. They shudder, and a few bodels slide off the mound. NICO (aka VENOM)’s head pops up. One eye is half shut, twitching slightly. A stupefied grin is on his face. He turns towards the sound and emits a primitive-sounding grunt. We hear some footsteps, and the MALE VOICE returns, now right behind the camera.

MALE VOICE: We got a call, let’s go. Don’t make me do it man.
NICO cackles stupidly, his grin growing wider. He looks upwards, apparently at the face of the intruder. The MALE VOICE sighs, and we hear his footsteps grow quieter behind us. We hear a few squeaks of a rusty item turning, and the footsteps return, stopping the MALE VOICE at his previous position.

MALE VOICE: Last chance buddy. Sober up or else.

NICO smiles stupidly up at the VOICE and picks his nose. He pulls his finger out and wipes it on one of the magazines. The VOICE sighs.

MALE VOICE: Your choice.

We hear a squeak, and suddenly from the top of the screen, a deluge of water gushes out, slamming NICO in the face. We cut to an over the shoulder view of the VOICE. In his arms we can see a dripping fire house. NICO is sprawled out in front of him, arms and legs akimbo. He’s sputtering and spewing a stream of curses loudly.

MALE VOICE: Glad to have you awake. We suit up in fifteen.

The VOICE turns, and we finally see that it is VYPER. He strolls away, and we fade to:

SCENE FIVE. INT. FREEZER ROOM – DAY.

We fade to a blue-hued room. A mist pervades over the entire room. We are facing a large double-door, almost frozen over from the cold. Small, semi-transparent curtains sway gently in the artificial breeze. In the top corner of the room, a security camera beeps reassuringly. The doors swing open, and in step VYPER and NICO. They look around, setting up a perimeter. The two are dressed in parkas and tac vests, and their faces are completely covered by thermal masks. They are holding a new type of assault rifle, unseen before. NICO has two pistols holstered on his hips.

VYPER: (As if through radio) Clear?

NICO: (As if through radio)  Clear.

The two rise up and walk slowly forward. We track them, moving backwards with the camera. NICO puts a finger to his ear and speaks.

NICO:  Command? We’re in. Acquiring subject.

He turns to VYPER and shrugs.

NICO: Just a little cold.

VYPER nods.

VYPER: (Sounding jovial) Just a little.

They take a few steps, until they come to a large curtain. Beyond it is completely obscured. They stop in front of it, and turn towards each other. We cut to a view facing them both at eye level.

NICO: Ready?

VYPER: As I’ll ever be.

NICO extends an arm, and quickly pulls away the curtain. They breathe in sharply and take a step back in surprise. VYPER’s weapon arm lowers in shock, while NICO’s shoots up into the firing position. NICO turns and sees him.

NICO: Keep your weapon on him, keep your weapon on him!

VYPER looks back at NICO in surprise, and sharply raises his weapon to the firing position as well. We pan around continuously from in front of them to behind them, where we are about two feet above their heads, looking into the gigantic main freeze room. Situated in the center, amongst empty cartons of ice cream, and dead, frozen newbies, sits CARL, busy munching down on a particularly fat newb.

NICO: Carl…?

CARL’s head shoots up, his six eyes narrowing sharply, staring at the pair. He grunts.

NICO: Carl…put the newbie down…put him down Carl.
CARL shakes his head back and forth sharply, the dead newbie swaying loosely from his clenched jaws. NICO turns to VYPER and nods. We hear their weapons powering up, causing CARL to screech and drop the newb. He readies himself, setting his forelegs far apart, ready to attack. His fourth, upright arm readies itself for combat. Mute all sound. We cut to a view of NICO’s finger. One tap.
Two taps.
Three taps.
Cue sound back in, and cut to a wide angle shot, where NICO and VYPER are on the left of the screen, and CARL is on the right. Pillars of fire erupt from the formers weapons, leaping out at CARL. Slow time down as we cut to a frontal view of CARL, a collection of dart-tipped projectiles zipping past us. CARL tenses and bolts upwards, flipping in the air. We follow him down with the camera as he lands just between VYPER and NICO, both of whom leap to the sides to avoid being impaled. They hit the ground and roll. CARL stands in the center, looking at both of them and snarling menacingly. He stomps his foot on the floor with a loud bang. NICO remains calm, but VYPER falters a little. CARL’s attention snaps to VYPER who loses his footing and falls to the ground. CARL leaps at VYPER, but is quickly checked by NICO opening fire on him from behind. The darts bounce harmlessly off his hardened exoskeleton, dropping to the floor. CARL leaps once more into the air, barrel rolling and landing behind NICO, rearing up and batting him aside, sending him crashing through several frozen containers and smashes into a large container, crumpled into a heap. CARL turns his attention back to VYPER, who has regained his firing stance and is leveling his weapon at CARL’s face. CARL screeches loudly at him, then leaps high into the air. VYPER readies himself for another attack, but CARL lines several feet away. Screeching once more, he grabs the fat newbie and scampers into a large side duct. VYPER stands up and scratches his head inquisitively, looking at the duct. NICO limps up beside him, holding his side.

VYPER: That was…weird.

NICO: He’s not evil…just hungry.

VYPER gestures towards the scene before them.

VYPER: So that’s what happened…?

NICO looks around, then spies something on the floor. He kneels and examines it.

NICO: No…

VYPER: (Still surveying the carnage) Then what?

NICO prods the object with his hand, and lifts it up. It turns out to be a large brown, shredded paper bag. On it is scrawled, in black Sharpie pen, the word “Lunch.”. NICO wiggles the bag, and VYPER looks down at it. NICO looks up at him.

NICO: Not enough.

We zoom in on the words, gradually fading into:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Ghostavo on January 26, 2005, 07:21:14 am

:lol:

masterpiece :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 26, 2005, 09:45:19 am

You should have named the newbies. :lol: We certainly have plenty of them this month. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Genryu on January 26, 2005, 10:34:37 am

D.S ? :D
By the way, for the Anime fan, did you noticed that both DS possess an ego that could be related to a black hole due to their huge mass ? :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grug on January 26, 2005, 10:37:13 am

lol.

Great work man!
Someone should make these movies within Max or lightwave. :D

More more!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Nico on January 26, 2005, 11:29:45 am

Porno mags and booze. What a romantic vision you have of me :p
Last time, you made me a junky, did I do something to you in a previous life? :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on January 26, 2005, 11:46:45 am

Aah. I've missed these. :D Good stuff.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 26, 2005, 02:05:45 pm

DS? What?
And :p to you Venico :D


SCENE SIX. INT. HARD LIGHT - DAY.

Fade into a scene of relative tranquility. The familiar comfy couches are all still lined up around various “topics,” and are filled with various forumites discussing the latest word in politics, weapons, and fast food. From our vantage point about twenty feet up, the room seems to go on forever, with minibars, couches, beer, and comatose members lying about. Suddenly, we hear shouting from the right of the screen, and the camera snaps to take a look. We see a figure spring from his seat, knocking over the small table in front of him. Cut to:

SCENE SEVEN. INT. RELIGION TOPIC - DAY.

We are now close up to the previous conflagration. Standing, breathing heavily, is a drunken and slurring KAZAN. He is waving a near-empty mug of beer in the air, and shouting wildly. On the other end of the table calmly sits LIBERATOR, dressed in priest’s robes, holding a half-drunken mug of fruit juice.

KAZAN: (As if drunk) You don’t be tellin’ ME what to doo! Der (he hiccups) ‘taint no Gyod!

LIBERATOR takes a small sip of his fruit juice and sets it down again. He looks up at KAZAN and smiles.

LIBERATOR: Friend…you will never truly understand the glory of God. You may repent, but only if you admit the error of your ways.

KAZAN looks furiously at LIBERATOR, while the latter takes another sip of his juice. Peering over the edge of his mug, he smiles as he drinks deeper. KAZAN throws his mug to the ground with a large smash. Various other forum members rise up and turn to look at the fight. LIBERATOR sets his drink calmly on the floor, whereupon KAZAN storms him and grabs him by his collar, lifting him onto his feet. Screaming into his face, we can see spittle flying out of KAZAN’s mouth. A croud begins to form around the two.

KAZAN: You little PRICK! I oughta string you up and keeel haaaul you!

KAZAN throws LIBERATOR to the floor a few feet away. LIBERATOR skids into another discussion and interrupts it, bumping into a table and jiggling its contents. He rises up and turns to smile at KAZAN, dusting himself off. He straightens his collar and readjusts himself. He is smiling as if nothing had happened.

LIBERATOR: Faith shall be your salvation, friend.

KAZAN: Have faith in THIS…!

KAZAN charges once more towards LIBERATOR. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a large, mean-looking pistol. Aiming it while he’s running, the crowd frantically disperses.

VARIOUS CROWD MEMBERS: Flame war! Flame war!

The two combatants are obscured from our view as the crowd frantically rushes to get away. Three shots suddenly ring out, and the pandemonium stops. They separate, and a straight line clears from KAZAN to LIBERATOR. KAZAN has stopped running, and is breathing heavily. His eyes are bulging in surprise. On the other end of the line is a slightly stunned, aghast LIBERATOR. Standing tall in front of him is SANDWICH, dressed in a sporting standard armor and uniform, completely black with the large HLP logo emblazoned in red on his right chest plate.
He holds out his hand, and inside of it we can see the three bullets, still completely intact.

SANDWICH: I think that’s enough playtime for today, Kazan.

KAZAN recovers his composure and stands up straight. He is almost equal to SANDWICH in height, and he eyes him with an evil grin. Spitting, he speaks.

KAZAN: Are you sure…?

His grin grows broader as he rears his pistol skyward and takes aim, letting off the rest of the clip at SANDWICH. Cut to slow mo. SANDWICH spins around, grabbing LIBERATOR and thrusting him far into the crowd, knocking a few bystanders over. SANDWICH then turns back around and extends his arm, forearm parallel to his chest. A bright line of light travels down the exterior of his armor, and a large armor-plated shield extends from both sides. We see the bullets impact, and as soon as all of them hit, SANDWICH swipes his arm aside and down. Cut to normal time, the camera is sitting at the impact point of the bullets. They hit and the camera shakes, and they bounce off harmlessly into the air. Cut back to normal time and an over the shoulder view of SANDWICH. KAZAN is standing, slightly surprised, his empty pistol smoking in the artificial light. Cut to a view of SANDWICH. He sighs slightly, and reaching over his back, we hear a familiar click. Pulling forward sharply, SANDWICH extends his HAMMER OF JUSTICE, its light casting a bright blue glow over the entire area. Cut to a view of KAZAN, standing upright. He reaches down and pulls out a large dagger from his pocket. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he charges SANDWICH, who deftly dodges him, flipping over him and smacking him upside the head with an open hand. Landing behind KAZAN, he turns and readies himself for the expected charge. KAZAN skids to a halt and turns savagely, and once again attacks SANDWICH. The latter takes a few steps back and readies his weapon. As soon as KAZAN is within range, SANDWICH crow-hops forward, and lets loose with a bone-shattering ballpark swing. Cut to slow mo as the hammer knocks KAZAN squarely in the stomach. Keep it like that for a few seconds as KAZAN is lifted off his feet and pushed backwards into the air. Cut to normal time as KAZAN is launched high into the air, flipping end over end. We cut to a table in the far corner of the room, tracking KAZAN in the air. He gets closer and closer until he finally comes crashing down, smashing the table into splinters. We cut to a view looking down on him. He groans in pain, and a foot slides off the side of debris. We here boot steps, and SANDWICH walks into the bottom corner of our view. All we can see is the back of his head. He reaches down and scoops KAZAN up, and, tossing him over his shoulder, walks away. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Genryu on January 26, 2005, 02:28:57 pm

Am I the only one to think you perfectly captured Kazan's personality on this one ? :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Stunaep on January 26, 2005, 02:39:09 pm

Quote

UT's last post

Instant classic!

You could even do a spin-off from that. With all the vs. movies coming out of Hollywood recently, who'd notice.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grug on January 26, 2005, 02:39:34 pm

lol nice.

more more! :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Flaser on January 26, 2005, 03:29:49 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Genryu
D.S ? :D
By the way, for the Anime fan, did you noticed that both DS possess an ego that could be related to a black hole due to their huge mass ? :p

Dark Scribes (probably) AKA the Fanfic Yakuza.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on January 26, 2005, 03:45:33 pm

It think this one may come out better than the first. I'm still hoping for a cameo though :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Anaz on January 26, 2005, 06:22:54 pm

too bad I can't be in this one...I got my brain melted in the first one :(


Excelent work so far!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on January 26, 2005, 06:35:43 pm

Like a melted brain has stopped any forum poster before you :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Anaz on January 26, 2005, 07:46:25 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Grey Wolf 2009
Like a melted brain has stopped any forum poster before you :p

hmmm. true...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on January 26, 2005, 08:46:16 pm

It's just as funny as the first two! :D:yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Genryu on January 27, 2005, 02:18:55 am

Dark Schneider, Flaser :p. Good try, but no cookies for you ;p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Marauder on January 27, 2005, 05:45:41 am

I'm glad I brought Carl cookies when I was a n00b...
:shaking:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Gloriano on January 27, 2005, 07:31:35 am

Good work UT :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 27, 2005, 10:10:02 am

I had trouble finding this thread, and I was like, no way, it couldn't have dropped off the first page THAT fast! Turns out it was stickied! Thanks admins! :D

SCENE EIGHT. INT. FORUM BRIG – DAY.


We open to see an empty cell, the gate pulled away. A rustling from behind us is heard, and a still-unconscious, drooling KAZAN is thrown into the cell, landing in a muddled heap on the floor. We cut to a view of the corridor, where SANDWICH and WINDRUNNER are standing. SANDWICH closes the door with a slam, and begins to walk away. WINDRUNNER walks next to him. Cut to a side view of their faces. They continue to look forward while talking, or take occasional glances at the inmates in the rows of cells on either side of them.

SANDWICH: Shrike needs to get a grip.

WINDRUNNER: Hm…?

SANDWICH: I said Shrike needs to get a grip. On the situation. It’s obvious that we’re short-handed—

He pauses to look at a passing cell, where we can see a stupefied OMNISCAPER leafing through STAR TREK magazines. A strange, repeated squishing sound can be heard. SANDWICH cringes and forward again.

WINDRUNNER: Yes, but it’s not like there’s admins left and right these days…

SANDWICH: Well, we need to find some, obviously. After the…incident, we lost two of our best ones. Some help is long overdue.

WINDRUNNER sighs and rubs his temple. Looking up at SANDWICH, he frowns. We cut to a frontal view of both of them.

WINDRUNNER: I’ll make you a deal. You get off my back about this, and I’ll get Shrike to start looking.

SANDWICH: (Grins) That’s a promise?
WINDRUNNER: Only if you shut up about it.

SANDWICH: (Laughs) Deal. But you better be good on your word.

The two of them turn back and we fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Janos on January 27, 2005, 10:45:27 am

HE'S A LOOSE CANNON THAT PLAYS BY HIS OWN RULES

GIVE ME YOUR BADGE AND GO HOME TO YOUR WIFE, YOU'RE OFF THE CASE

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: pyro-manic on January 27, 2005, 12:26:23 pm

Heehee! I like it! Big improvement over the previous version so far IMO - keep it up. :nod: And you should put in some of the newer members - a lot of the people in the old version are no longer with us....

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Windrunner on January 27, 2005, 01:30:03 pm

you got it all right.. :yes: ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 27, 2005, 01:46:26 pm

I'll tell you guys one thing - it's a lot harder to write this time around. A lot of the old guys from the last time I tried writing this left or aren't very  active, and the new guys don't really have a known personality yet :( I think this new version is going to be much more character-orientated than the last one. Which isn't really a bad thing, if you think about it. :)

Anyway:

SCENE NINE. INT. SHRIKE’S OFFICE – DAY

We open to see a large paper-covered desk. Stacks of portfolios are strewn about, and SHRIKE is resting his head on his upturned hands, elbows on the table. He’s watching his desk ornament with fascination, as the little balls clack back and forth, swinging on their pendulums. Otherwise, the room is silent. A knock is heard on his door. He looks up his eyes, never moving the rest of his body.

SHRIKE: (As if bored) Come in.

We turn to look at the door. A whoosh is heard, and the door slides away, B5 style. In steps WINDRUNNER. He smiles at SHRIKE, who sighs, as if he knows what’s coming next. WINDRUNNER sets down a small stack of files on a table in front of SHRIKE’s desk. He crosses his legs and interlocks his fingers, and stairs at SHRIKE, who looks up and sighs. He reluctantly takes his attention off his clackers and looks at WINDRUNNER. Sighing, he reaches down and takes out a pen from his desk drawer.

SHRIKE: What can I sign to get you to leave me alone…?

WINDRUNNER feigns shock, clutching his chest and bulging his eyes.

WINDRUNNER: (Fake innocence) Why Shrike! Me?

SHRIKE sighs and gestures with his hand.

SHRIKE: Yes, you. Gimme.

WINDRUNNER smirks and ruffles through the papers on the desk. He selects one, and walks over to SHRIKE’s desk, the paper outstretched in his arm. Setting it down in front of SHRIKE, he sits back on his chair, resuming his previous smug pose. SHRIKE looks over the paper for a few seconds, then looks up and gives WINDRUNNER a raised eyebrow.
SHRIKE: You want to put out requests for new admins?

WINDRUNNER: (Inhales) Well…we have had some problems lately. The admins that we…have left are clamoring for some help.

SHRIKE: You know our policy on new admins. Goober was a hard enough choice, and he’s been here for awhile.

WINDRUNNER: Yes, I know, but we need. More. Help. Have you seen the situation out there lately? We’ve got newbies overrunning the place, we’ve had multiple deletions, computer hacks…Shrike, it’s a mess out there. Just yesterday we’ve had our first perma-ban in two years!

SHRIKE: (A little irate) I know what’s been going on out there. And I’m telling you that the admins we have are enough to handle the situation! Not to mention that, but once the Defense Force recruitment program comes online tommorrow, we’ll have more than enough people to manage the forums.

WINDRUNNER: Shrike…with all due respect. Forum members do not a heavy police force make. With the amount of unruliness that’s going on, it’s only a matter of time before we have to introduce filters!

SHRIKE slams down on the desk and stands up, furious. WINDRUNNER seems a little surprised, but quickly masks it.

SHRIKE: I will NOT let this forum come to that!

He sits back down, sighing and rubbing his forehead. He picks up his pen and holds the paper out in front of him.

SHRIKE: You’ll get your admins.

WINDRUNNER: (Nods silently) Thank you.

WINDRUNNER stands up and begins to walk out the door. He pauses with it open, and turns to look at SHRIKE.

WINDRUNNER: It’s for the best.

WINDRUNNER closes the door and walks out, and SHRIKE sighs behind him, returning to his work. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on January 27, 2005, 02:12:39 pm

Once again, quite good. I'm almost as amused by the accidentaly smiley though....

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: HotSnoJ on January 27, 2005, 02:15:40 pm

It's so exciting!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Flaser on January 27, 2005, 04:32:16 pm

You should definitly include Lighty and Bobb - they did so much for our beloved game. Same goes for BR as a fredder, and you could include TopAce too as the mistunderstood, hardbeat SW fanatic. All of them seem to have strong character AFAIS.
taylor and Woomeister also did some major code development.
....oh and feel free to put in whatevere impression you had of me.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Setekh on January 27, 2005, 05:06:47 pm

*waits for himself to appear*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Windrunner on January 27, 2005, 05:20:36 pm

two in a row, not bad :D. Awesome as usual UT. :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Night Hammer on January 27, 2005, 06:55:52 pm

haha funny stuff dude:yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Thorn on January 27, 2005, 07:18:32 pm

I better not get shot again in this one.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 27, 2005, 08:53:32 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
WINDRUNNER: (Inhales) Well…we have had some problems lately. The admins that we…have left are clamoring for some help.

SHRIKE: You know our policy on new admins. Goober was a hard enough choice, and he’s been here for awhile.

WINDRUNNER: Yes, I know, but we need. More. Help. Have you seen the situation out there lately? We’ve got newbies overrunning the place, we’ve had multiple deletions, computer hacks…Shrike, it’s a mess out there. Just yesterday we’ve had our first perma-ban in two years!

SHRIKE: (A little irate) I know what’s been going on out there. And I’m telling you that the admins we have are enough to handle the situation!

:lol: Funnily enough, that's almost exactly what happened in the Staff forum the other week. :)

You ought to include Cobra - perhaps as an Ensign Expendable red-shirt. ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: vyper on January 27, 2005, 09:47:37 pm

Holy **** I got a role without even auditioning ;) :D

nice work so far :)

And who got Perma-banned in RL Goob?

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 27, 2005, 09:58:34 pm

Pecenipicek, remember?  By request. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: ShadowWolf_IH on January 27, 2005, 10:20:12 pm

you mean unanimous demand?

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: NGTM-1R on January 27, 2005, 11:45:53 pm

No, I think he actually literally asked for it.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Night Hammer on January 28, 2005, 12:42:56 am

well he asked at our request...:p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 28, 2005, 05:09:24 pm

Sorry for the late update, guys. Fell behind my quota :)
SCENE TEN. INT. HARD LIGHT – DAY.

It is the next day. We are back at the palace of the usual couches and beer. Now, though, several of the couches are deserted, and a large cluster of people is crowding around a large poster on the wall. On the top of the poster, emblazoned in bold letters are the words JOIN NOW, PROTECT YOUR FORUM!. Beneath it is a large picture of HLP Marine, dressed in full combat gear, and below that, a long list, which is rapidly filling up with signatures. We cut to the rustling, unruly front of the human mass. Various forum members are stepping forth to add to their names to the ever growing list. We cut to PYRO-MANIC and HOLY IMPERIAL GLORIANO. They are standing next to each other and looking at the monstrosity before them. PYRO-MANIC has his arms crossed, and HOLY IMPERIAL GLORINO has his hands in his pockets. PYRO-MANIC turns to look at his companion.

PYRO-MANIC: Eh…I don’t like it.

HIG: (In foreign accent) What?

PYRO-MANIC: I don’t like this. It seems weird, having a dedicated military force.

HIG: I like. Might be good.

PYRO-MANIC turns and gives a side ways glance at HIG.

PYRO-MANIC: You never know. Once you start getting a military, you get police, once you get police you get censorship, once you get censorship…you get filters.

HIG: Forums never come to that!

PYRO-MANIC: (Shrugs) You never know…

They turn to look back at the poster. We cut to where SWAMP_THING is trying to scramble over various members to get close enough to sign.

SWAMP_THING: (Chanting) Must…sign…for…great…justice…

SWAMP_THING leaps up onto the shoulders of an unfortunate board member, and leaps onto the head of the next. He is almost in a zombie-like state as he continually jumps from head to head, desperately seeking the almighty list. We are following him with the camera, and a few feet in front of him, we see DREW, leaning against ICESPEED, talking to her nonchalantly. ICESPEED is looking away, trying yet failing to get DREW to leave. Suddenly, SWAMP_THING leaps on top of DREW, who loses his balance, face planting him to the floor, out of sight of the camera. The two rise up from the bottom of the screen, DREW is dusting himself off and looking madly for ICESPEED.

DREW: He-hello? Hello? Hey babe, where are ya?

After frantically searching for a few minutes, he turns his attention to SWAMP_THING, now limping in a stupefied zombie-like state towards his objective. He grabs his shoulders and spins him around. SWAMP_THING is drooling a little from his mouth, his eyes are vacant, and his body is completely slack.

DREW: You just cost me a DATE!

SWAMP_THING gurgles and smiles stupidly. Spittle bubbles from his mouth as he makes a satisfied moaning sound.

DREW: Goddamn piece of—

He slams SWAMP_THING against the poster, disrupting several forumites nearby. SWAMP_THING is pressed against the wall. He turns his head and sees a pen, dangling from a chain attached to the poster. He reaches for it, but it is just a few inches out of his grasp. DREW is busy yelling at his face, but SWAMP_THING is still single-mindedly focused on the pen.

DREW: I was THIS close to getting her to pay attention to me!

He holds up two fingers, about a centimeter apart.

DREW: This close! If it wasn’t for YOU and your stupid—

He realizes SWAMP_THING isn’t paying attention to him. He hauls his fist back into the air, ready to slam it into SWAMP_THING’s face. SWAMP_THING’s attention suddenly shifts from the pen to DREW’s fist. He smiles and gurgles, drool falling from his mouth. As DREW readies his fist and subsequently launches it forward, SWAMP_THING’s eyes narrow just a little. As the fist is about to hit, he ducks down, pulling DREW down with him. The latter’s fist slams into the wall, causing DREW to let out a yelp of pain. SWAMP_THING dips under and beneath DREW’s legs, rearing up behind him. He grabs DREW by the back of his collar, and yanks him to the ground, dragging him behind him as he lurches towards the pen. DREW is yelling incoherently, screaming out vague threats at SWAMP_THING. SWAMP_THING grabs the pen and signs his name, and then once more turns his attention to the kicking and shouting DREW. Gurgling and smiling stupidly once again, he looks down at his captor. Grinning broadly, he lifts him over his shoulder and lurches off into the crowd.
We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 28, 2005, 05:29:06 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
we see DREW, leaning against ICEFIRE, talking to her nonchalantly. ICEFIRE is looking away, trying yet failing to get DREW to leave.

Er... sure you don't mean ICESPEED instead?

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 28, 2005, 05:30:16 pm

The web was down when I was typing it :p Fixed.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Tiara on January 28, 2005, 05:34:18 pm

Very good, as always :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: pyro-manic on January 28, 2005, 05:40:58 pm

Woo! I got a part! :D

More good stuff, UT. :yes: You seem to be rather fond of intimate personal violence, though... :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 28, 2005, 06:10:12 pm

Hmm...

*looks at pyro-manic's name*

*looks at story*

Nope, you're not in it.  What's worse, there's some guy named pyro-maniac who's not even registered here. ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 28, 2005, 06:20:44 pm

Fixed...hey, it's a work in progress. That's what you get when you post as you write :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 28, 2005, 08:50:52 pm

Eh, don't worry, I ran into the same problem when I tried to add him to the TVWP staff and HLP 2.0 said he didn't exist.  I had Styxx pulling his hair out before he found out I just misspelled it. :lol:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on January 29, 2005, 01:22:46 am

hey, cool, i'm in this! and i didn't even realise this existed until today!

oh yeah, it's also very very good. i'd join the clamour for 'more', but... only an idiot forces the true artist/writer to do stuff. so... in your own time, please...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on January 29, 2005, 03:56:35 am

good stuff as always UT. :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on January 29, 2005, 08:48:31 am

One compliment: Your writing style is incredibly detailed, and the style is unique, making this an excellent read indeed.

Enjoyed the first part, and now enjoying this :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Night Hammer on January 29, 2005, 11:53:46 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Goober5000
Eh, don't worry, I ran into the same problem when I tried to add him to the TVWP staff and HLP 2.0 said he didn't exist.  I had Styxx pulling his hair out before he found out I just misspelled it. :lol:

wait what?:eek2:


Goober misspell? No ****ing way:eek2::lol:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on January 30, 2005, 02:24:40 am

Yes.  It happens so infrequently that people have been known to collect my misspelled words as souvenirs. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Night Hammer on January 30, 2005, 02:46:19 am

i got dibs on this one:p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 30, 2005, 09:02:33 am

Falling behind schedule, so it's small. Sorry guys.


SCENE NINE. INT. FORUM READY ROOM – DAY.

We open up into the ready room, already abuzz with activity. Weapons are being loaded, armor is being fitted, and plans are being detailed. Cut to various shots of the suits being outfitted. After about five seconds, all activity stops, and in steps GOOBER5000. He raises his hands to call attention, and the assembly halts what they’re doing and turn to look at them. Present are BOBBOAU, VYPER, GANK and NICO. All have customized armor, save GANK, who is silently sitting on a bench. BOBBOAU’s armor is full of miscellaneous machinery, and his armor is continuously beeping and flashing. NICO has a large bottle of beer airbrushed on the front of his chest plate, and on the back, an empty beer mug. Right below the mug reads “FILL ME UP.”. VYPER simply has a gigantic smiley face painted on the back of his armor. The others are all standing up, looking at GOOBER5000, waiting for their orders.

GOOBER5000: Good afternoon gentleman.

A few grunts of acknowledgement go through the group.

GOOBER5000: It looks like we have another little situation for you gents to handle. As our only regulars so far, this would be a great opportunity to get some live-action practice in.

Smiles grow on the faces of the gathered. Even GANK has a smirk. Chuckles escape from their mouths.

GOOBER5000: It’s a simple op. One of the forum members has been taken by Swamp Thing. You guys need to get in there and get the prisoner back.

GANK: Who is it?

GOOBER5000: It’s Drew.

A chorus of moans goes up from the crowd. They shift lazily. BOBBOAU plops down on the bench, resting his head in his hand, his formerly bright expression dulled to now listlessness.

BOBBOAU: (In child like whine) Do we have toooo?

GOOBER5000 snaps a look at him, then looks back at the group.

GOOBER5000: Hey! You applied, you got the job, this is what you have to do to continue having this job!

BOBBOAU sighs heavily and grudgingly gets up. Everyone else does likewise, moaning and dragging their feet out the door. Once they all get out, GOOBER5000 follows them, and we cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 30, 2005, 05:23:02 pm

Just a small bump to let everyone know there was a new part added (above). Sorry it's all so small, I have to write a report, and I was out all night last night.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Nico on January 30, 2005, 07:34:20 pm

bah, if you really want to make me look like an alcoholic, at least replace the beer bottle with a desperado bottle, since that's the only beer I like :p ( coz yeah, mind you, I don't like beer :p )

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: vyper on January 30, 2005, 07:37:58 pm

[q]VYPER simply has a gigantic smiley face painted on the back of his armor[/q]

Heh. :D

Bang. Have a nice day.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on January 31, 2005, 12:45:56 pm

Here you all go :) What do you think?


SCENE TEN. INT. HARD LIGHT BALCONY – DAY.

We return to see WINDRUNNER, still standing out on the balcony, surveying the situation. GOOBER5000 steps up from behind him and takes up a position next to him, leaning on the railing. He hands a pair of binoculars to WINDRUNNER. He takes them and looks down through them at the scene below. Lowering them, he turns to GOOBER5000.

WINDRUNNER: When’re they coming?

GOOBER5000: They’ll be there any minute now.

WINDRUNNER turns to look at the crowd again through the binoculars. His attention suddenly snaps to a wall of the room. He smiles.

WINDRUNNER: There they are…

We cut to:



SCENE ELEVEN. INT. HARD LIGHT – DAY.

We return to the previous scene of pandemonium. A side door swooshes open, and in step BOBBOAU, VYPER, NICO, and GANK. As they begin to make their way through the crowd, we begin to hear someone’s muffled shouts. NICO, in the lead, turns to look at his squad. Shouting over the ruckus of the crowd, he points in the direction of the shouting.

NICO: (Shouting) Over there! Let’s go!

They hunker down and begin to make their way through the crowd, weapons drawn. Curious onlookers look back at them as they are shoved out of the way. Pressing onward, ever closer, someone utters a hair-raising scream. NICO looks back, now fully in combat mode. Waving his hand forward, he orders his team.

NICO: (Shouting) Go go go! Get over there!

The group disperses, and begins to charge towards the scream. As they get closer, a clearing begins to form, thronged by shocked board members. Cut to a view looking down on the squad, so that our back is to the clearing. The crowd is getting and thinner, and eventually NICO bursts through an opening, followed by BOBBOAU, VYPER, and GANK. Charging in, ready to take control of the situation, they suddenly skid to a stop in shock. GANK falls over backwards flat on his buttocks, then slowly staggers to his feet, his mouth hanging open in shock. The rest of the squad is in a similar state, weapons lowered, mouths hanging wide open. We circle around them, until we view the center of the clearing. Standing tall above a cowering, shrunken DREW, stands a massive figure, dressed completely in a black cloak, the hood pulled over his face, casting him completely in shadow. Two glowing eyes peer out, staring deeply at a kicking, screaming SWAMP_THING, suspended in the air by the figure’s hand around his kneck. BOBBOAU regains his composure first, and raises his weapon abruptly. The others do the same soon after. NICO is the first to speak, and the crowd falls silent around them.

NICO: Who-who are you?

The figure turns his head sharply to look at NICO, and the red glows of his eyes narrow. He speaks in a raspy, throated voice.

FIGURE: You must be…

He pauses and looks down at NICO’s armor. His eyes narrow a little more, but suddenly snap back up, turning up into what seems to be a happy expression. He speaks again, sounding more elated.

FIGURE: …One of the Defense Force members I’ve heard so much about!

NICO lowers his weapon a little, but only slightly. FIGURE puts a hand to his chest and bows slightly. SWAMP_THING is still kicking and shouting in his outstretched arm.

FIGURE: You all put out a request for a new admin, and here I am! I’m dreadfully sorry that I did not introduce myself. You all can simply call me Administrator.

ADMINISTRATOR turns once more to SWAMP_THING, who falls still at his gaze. He turns back to NICO.

ADMINISTRATOR: Would you like this one?

SWAMP_THING turns to NICO, looking at him pleadingly. NICO turns to look at him, then looks at ADMINISTRATOR.

NICO: (Nods) Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.

ADMINISTRATOR holds his arm out towards NICO, who flicks two fingers towards SWAMP_THING. VYPER and GANK move forward and take down a now-limp SWAMP_THING. BOBBOAU keeps his weapon trained on ADMINISTRATOR. NICO turns and looks as the former three walk past him.

NICO: Take him to the medical bay and get him checked out.

NICO turns back to ADMINISTRATOR.

NICO: Well…thanks.

ADMINISTRATOR’s eyes pull into a smile.

ADMINISTRATOR: My pleasure.

NICO nods and passes a fake smile, and begins to turn away. Just as he does so, his radio clicks and beeps. We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: vyper on January 31, 2005, 12:51:40 pm

Intriguing. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on January 31, 2005, 05:05:20 pm

good stuff. :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on January 31, 2005, 05:49:40 pm

indeed.
*wonders who the new mystery administrator is

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Thorn on January 31, 2005, 06:04:39 pm

My money is on Mentok, the Mind Taker.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on January 31, 2005, 06:13:29 pm

an0n :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on January 31, 2005, 07:41:31 pm

Quite a good story. Even though my location is apparently too classified for me to appear in the story :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: neo_hermes on January 31, 2005, 07:44:19 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Thorn
My money is on Mentok, the Mind Taker.

i'm putting money on him, too.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Genryu on February 01, 2005, 01:58:00 am

I'd say an0n, too :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on February 01, 2005, 02:48:21 am

hmm... thought-provoking. i won't be able to get to sleep tonight. keep on with the good work.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Omniscaper on February 01, 2005, 05:44:04 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
He pauses to look at a passing cell, where we can see a stupefied OMNISCAPER leafing through STAR TREK magazines. A strange, repeated squishing sound can be heard. SANDWICH cringes and forward again.

RRRGGGGG  You'll pay for that. :p.....

...well, those starships doooooo look sexy!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Anaz on February 01, 2005, 10:15:42 pm

my question is what happened to scene 10 :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 02, 2005, 09:47:54 am

Fo shizzle! Oops! :) I just added Scene 10 to the last post, sorry all! It's really small, that's why I missed it.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 02, 2005, 01:49:23 pm

btw, UT. Have you taken script writing classes? I was just wondering if the proffession really interests you, then you should go into it. Also, theres a really good script writing program out there called Final Draft that REALLY is a blessing. It formats your whole script propelly so that the only thing you have to worry about is the plot. It remembers character names, locations, and even afterwards show you a detailed report of your script, broken down to scenes, and even how many lines each specific character has. A real good program.  But other than that, keep up the good work.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 03, 2005, 05:12:18 am

I haven't really thought about it, but where can I find that program?
Anyway, new part :)


INT. SCENE TWELVE. HARD LIGHT BALCONY – DAY.

WINDRUNNER is standing on the balcony, a walkie-talkie in front of his mouth. He is looking through the binoculars at the scene below, and has a sour look on his face.

WINDRUNNER: Nico…Nico, you there? Come in, over.
NICO: (As if through radio) Yea Windrunner, I’m here, over.

WINDRUNNER: What’s going on down there? It looks like you’re having some trouble, over.

NICO: (Pauses) Negative sir…this guy down here says he came for the admin request.

WINDRUNNER lowers the binoculars and turns to look at GOOBER5000, who has been listening to the conversation intently, with a quizzical expression. The latter simply shrugs. WINDRUNNER turns back to the walkie-talkie.

WINDRUNNER: Hold please.

WINDRUNNER once again turns to GOOBER5000.

WINDRUNNER: What do you think?

GOOBER5000: (Rubs his temple) Uh…I dunno…suppose we should just show him in?

WINDRUNNER: What if it’s a troll or something?

GOOBER5000 looks down at the scene below, then turns back to look at WINDRUNNER. He pauses for a few seconds to think.

GOOBER5000: I suppose we’ll just have to take that chance.

WINDRUNNER turns back to the mike and cues it one more time. He looks at GOOBER5000 once more with a vague expression, then turns back. We cut to:


INT. SCENE THIRTEEN. FORUM HEADQUARTERS – DAY.

We open to the giant crescent moon table. All the seats but two are filled, the empty areas being covered with dusty cobwebs. In front of the two are two name plaques, listing THUNDER and SETEKH.
We pan down the table. All of the admins are seated. From right to left are COBALTSTARR, GOOBER5000, MAEGLAMOR, SHRIKE, SANDWICH and STYXX. They are staring intensely at the solitary figure standing in the center of the half-circle. It is a calm, almost cheerful ADMINISTRATOR, who is looking from admin to admin. SHRIKE looks up at ADMINISTRATOR and shifts in his seat, forcing a smile.

SHRIKE: So…you want to be an admin here?

ADMINISTRATOR: (Nods) That is correct.

SHRIKE: Well…can I ask you why in particular?

ADMINISTRATOR: I saw your advertisement online, and believed I met your requirements.

SHRIKE: Do you have…any previous experience?

ADMINISTRATOR: I have administered for a short period of time once.

SHRIKE’s forced smile grows a little wider.

SHRIKE: Oh? And how did that turn out?

ADMINISTRATOR: I helped with a revolt problem there.

SHRIKE turns to look at his compatriots and nods. The others give a cautious look of approval.

SHRIKE: Well, really? Interesting…we may indeed have use for you, Mr…um, you wanted us to call you what now?

ADMINISTRATOR: Administrator, if you will.

SHRIKE shuffles some paper work and frowns a little. He looks back up and the plastic smile comes back.

SHRIKE: Right…well…we’re a little short on applications right now…

He laughs and looks around the table a little playfully.

SHRIKE: Most people seem to hate us nowadays. You wouldn’t perchance be from the CIC would you?

ADMINISTRATOR: (Sounding puzzled) The CIC?

SHRIKE: (Chuckles) Never mind.

SHRIKE shifts and sits back.
SHRIKE: Since, like I said before, we’re so short on applicants…we will give you temporary admin privileges, to see how well you perform. How’s that sound?

ADMINISTRATOR: (Happily) That sounds excellent. When do I start?

SHRIKE leans back and reaches down into a desk drawer in front of him. Pulling out an unignited HLP Hammer of Justice, he skids it across the table, where ADMINISTRATOR picks it up.

SHRIKE: (Smiles) Right now.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Tiara on February 03, 2005, 05:57:12 am

*whirls Axe o' Reward at UT*

You deserve it. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Zuljin on February 03, 2005, 07:15:34 am

This is simply brilliant :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 03, 2005, 09:11:00 am

Check this site out for Final Draft. You can download a demo.

Final Draft (http://www.finaldraft.com/products/bigbreak.php4)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on February 04, 2005, 12:21:22 am

excellent work as always UT :D
:yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Windrunner on February 04, 2005, 03:45:57 am

:D:yes: nice work as allways

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 04, 2005, 07:42:56 am

Thanks :)

Next part:

SCENE FOURTEEN. INT. ADMINISTRATOR HOUSING – DAY.


We open to a short, pleasantly lit hallway lined with doors on either side. SANDWICH and ADMINISTRATOR are walking side by side. As they pass each door, we see the names of the admins on them, until they reach the last door. SANDWICH lifts his arm up and wipes some dust off the name plaque. A rusty, dirty-looking LCD display still displays THUNDER. SANDWICH sighs and motions for ADMINISTRATOR to step towards a small speaker located at eye level next to the door.

SANDWICH: Please input your name for voice identification.

He steps back as ADMINISTRATOR steps up to the door. A red beam pops out of the scanner and looks him up and down. It bleeps out a command in a robotic effeminate voice.

SCANNER: PLEASE SAY NAME.

ADMINISTRATOR: Administrator.

SCANNER: PLEASE SAY NAME AGAIN FOR VOICE IDENTIFICATION.

ADMINISTRATOR: Administrator.

SCANNER: THANK YOU ADMINISTRATOR. HAVE A NICE DAY.

The scanner clicks off and the door whooshes open. ADMINISTRATOR steps into a barren, dusty room inside. He looks back at SANDWICH inquisitively. SANDWICH reads his look, or at least what we can see of it.

SANDWICH: We moved his stuff to a special cargo area.

ADMINISTRATOR nods and walks into the center of the room. Turning to SANDWICH, he gestures around him with a wide show of his arms.

ADMINISTRATOR: Glad to be home, I guess!

SANDWICH: (Chuckles) Well, if there’s anything we can do for you, please ask.

SANDWICH turns and is just about to leave, but just as he does so, ADMINISTRATOR stops him with his voice.

ADMINISTRATOR: Ah…if you please. I was wondering, on the way here you were briefing me on the newbies that have joined recently?

SANDWICH: (Nods) Yes? What about them?

ADMINISTRATOR looks down at his feet, then back up at SANDWICH.

ADMINISTRATOR: I was hoping I could maybe talk to this…Cobra fellow?

SANDWICH: (Gives a courteous smile) Of course, I’ll send him right up.

ADMINISTRATOR: (Bows a little) Thank you. I guess I’ll just get settled in then!

SANDWICH: (Gestures at the room) Anything else you need?

ADMINISTRATOR: (Looks around) No, no, I’ll be fine, thank you.

SANDWICH nods and smiles again.

SANDWICH: Don’t mention it.

He turns and walks out the door, it shutting behind him. We look back to look at ADMINISTRATOR, who looks around the room once more, and we fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on February 04, 2005, 08:29:25 am

Man, this is getting very good. And I can't remember who said it, but you should consider being a story writer of some sort.:yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Setekh on February 08, 2005, 07:01:38 am

:nervous:

I don't understand why my seat is filled with cobwebs. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 08, 2005, 10:15:34 am

Read the first movie.

Spoiler:

You died. I wrote it around the time you left HLP, so I killed you :)

Anyway, here's the next part, sorry it took so long. I've had writers block about where to go next with the story:


SCENE FIFTEEN. INT. SHRIKE’S QUARTERS – NIGHT.

We open to see a room clothed in darkness, a single light, resting on a desk, casting eerie shadows on still walls. In front of the desk sits SHRIKE, working slowly through a large stack of papers. He’s wearing a pair of glasses, and moving papers from one giant pile, reading them and signing/stamping them, setting them in a different pile. We see a small speakerphone by his elbow, which suddenly comes to life.

TOPACE: (Through speaker) Shrike? Shrike, are you there?

SHRIKE sighs and shifts over, depressing a button on the bottom of the device.

SHRIKE: Shrike here. What is it Topace?

TOPACE: Sorry to disturb you, sir. We have something up here we’d like you to look at, though.

SHRIKE: Is it important? I’m kind of busy.

SHRIKE glances over at his paperwork with a distasteful look.

TOPACE: Yes sir, it is. Please report to HQ as soon as you can.

SHRIKE: (Breathes out) I’m on my way.

He gets up from the desk, and shuffling some paperwork, and, setting his glasses down on the desk, he turns to get ready. We cut to:

SCENE SIXTEEN. INT. FORUM HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT.

We are facing the large double doors that lead into the heart of HLP. They suddenly burst open, and in strides SHRIKE, tired, but alert. We turn to see a gaggle of concerned looking forumites, all scurrying about, doing random tasks. SHRIKE stops, waiting. TOPACE approaches him from one of the consoles.

TOPACE: Evening sir.

SHRIKE: (Nods) Evening.

SHRIKE pauses, staring at TOPACE for a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. TOPACE stares back, unsure of what to do, then suddenly stops.

TOPACE: Oh! Sorry sir. What I called you up here for…

TOPACE motions to a video screen, and SHRIKE walks past him, and TOPACE falls in tow behind him. SHRIKE stops to look at the video screen, his back is obscuring it from our view.

SHRIKE: (Unsure, but interested) What is it…?

TOPACE moves to stand next to him, and points at the screen. SHRIKE stands up and folds his arms across his chest, showing us the screen. On it is what appears to be heat signatures. TOPACE begins to talk, pointing at the blips.

TOPACE: This was taken from our long-range sensor net, just a few hours ago. They appear to be heat signatures.

SHRIKE: Of what…?

TOPACE: Ships, sir. Lots of them.

SHRIKE looks a little startled, and turns to look at TOPACE.

SHRIKE: Are you sure…?

TOPACE: Yes.

SHRIKE leans forward and stares at the screen more intently.

SHRIKE: Point of origin? Armament? Friend or foe, for God’s sake?

TOPACE: All unknown, sir. We’re sending these through reconnaissance for examination, but…

He stops. SHRIKE stands back up and turns to face him.

SHRIKE: But what?

TOPACE: (Shrugs) Nothing, sir.

SHRIKE gets a slightly angered look on his face, and motions to TOPACE.

SHRIKE: What do you think they are?

TOPACE looks away for a few seconds, then turns to look back at SHRIKE.

TOPACE: I think they might be Battlecruisers…I can’t be sure, but the heat blooms coming from their exhausts show an enormous amount of wasted power for ships of their size.

SHRIKE steps back for a second, then leans forward, looking at TOPACE intensely.

SHRIKE: And that is what you think?

TOPACE: (Pauses) Yes.

SHRIKE turns back to look at the screen, folding his arms. He turns to look back at TOPACE.

SHRIKE: Good. That’s what I was thinking as well.

SHRIKE turns to look at the room behind him. Everyone in the area turns to look at him.

SHRIKE: I want a Deimos and fighter escort prepped and ready for a recon mission in fifteen minutes. Get support staff and mission control online right now. Alert as few people as possible, we don’t want this getting out.

He turns to look at TOPACE and gives him an underhanded look.

SHRIKE: Let’s just hope that we’re wrong about this. I’m putting you in charge of the secrecy of this operation. Make sure no one, and I mean no one, outside of non-essential personnel hears about it.

TOPACE: (Nods) Yes sir.
SHRIKE: I’ll go and alert the admins to the situation.

He extends his hand towards TOPACE.

SHRIKE: Good luck.

TOPACE takes it and shakes it gruffly a few times.

TOPACE: To us all.

SHRIKE gives him a grim nod, and turns to walk out of the room. We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on February 08, 2005, 10:22:25 am

Intense....:D Can't wait till the next part, with lots of BOOMS.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Taristin on February 08, 2005, 10:37:04 am

Editted for stupidness.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: pyro-manic on February 08, 2005, 12:42:36 pm

Heheh - I think I can see where this is going.... ;) Good stuff.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 08, 2005, 01:08:38 pm

The plot thickens... BUM BUM BUM!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Setekh on February 08, 2005, 07:28:03 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target

Spoiler:

You died. I wrote it around the time you left HLP, so I killed you :)

[/B]

Oh, cool. That makes me feel much better about it, cheers. ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on February 08, 2005, 07:52:26 pm

oh wow, the suspense.

you know what, we should invent some way of putting good writers onto spacecraft that travel so not-fast they break the _opposite_ of the lightspeed barrier, so that our time runs slow compared to them. then we wouldn't have to wait as long for each scene.

but that would probably count as mental cruelty to writers.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 09, 2005, 01:51:40 pm

I've been having trouble writing lately. How's this read?


SCENE SEVENTEEN. INT. FORUM HANGAR – NIGHT.

We open to see a very slow moving, yet purposeful, procession of outlined figures, cast against the bright background of the floodlights. running back and forth, carting large canisters of ammunition and fuel to a row of five waiting Perseus fighter craft. Sounds of ammo belts running and winches being tightened rattle through the darkened hanger. We cut to see CORSAIR, directing the flow from the cockpit of his aircraft. Decked in an unzipped flight suit and unclipped helmet, he calmly points to each figure, barking out orders at random. A CREWMEMBER scurries below him.

CORSAIR: You! Hey! You, stop!

The CREWMEMBER skids to a stop and looks up at CORSAIR expectantly. His powered ammo cart idles next to him. CORSAIR points off to the side, towards the other fighters.

CORSAIR: Fighter three needs to be topped off on fuel, and Four and five need ECM pods.

He hears a bleep of a radio behind him, and holding out a single finger to the waiting CREWMEMBER, he reaches back into his cockpit and pulls out his oxygen mask. Pressing it to his face, he begins to speak, and we overhear his conversation.

CORSAIR: This is Corsair.

LIGHTSPEED: (Over Radio) Corsair? This is Lightspeed. When are those fighters going to be ready? We’ve been sitting out here for ten minutes!
CORSIAR: (Bobs up and down) I know, I know, but-

He waves at the hangar around him. We look down at the CREWMEMBER, now crossing his arms and stamping his foot impatiently.

CORSIAR: -we’re having some troubles with the loading. A couple of the ammo belts jammed up and we—

LIGHTSPEED: I don’t care what’s going on. We’re running close on our deadline—are your pilots ready yet?

CORSAIR: They’re ready and waiting. We just need to load up a couple more things and we’re ready to go.

He turns to look at the CREWMEMBER, and waves him off with the back of his hand.

CORSAIR: (Mouths) Sorry.

He turns back to the mask.

CORSAIR: Look, Lighty, I have to go, we’ll be out in a few minutes.

LIGHTSPEED: (Irritated) Roger that. Over and out.

CORSAIR turns back to the scene around him. He climbs into his cockpit and buckles himself in. As the crew chief comes over to finalize his safety straps, he twirls his arm around in a circular motion.

CORSAIR: Let’s run ‘em up!

We cut to:


SCENE EIGHTEEN. EXT. HARD LIGHT STATION – NIGHT.


We open to see a small group of five fighters slip into formation next to the GRANDEUR, an enormous capital ship, hanging motionless in space waiting for them. As the group slips silently through space, a voice comes over the radio.

LIGHTSPEED: (Voice over) Command? This is Lightspeed.

DABRAIN: (Voice over) This is Command. You ready Lightspeed?

LIGHTSPEED: Ready and able, Command. Requesting warp coordinates for mission staging area.

DABRAIN: Acknowledged, transmitting coordinates now.

We cut to:

SCENE NINETEEN. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – NIGHT.

We open to see a moderately lit, utilitarian looking room. Around it, rows of computers crunch away, tended by numerous crewmembers. Situated behind the captain’s chair is a large table, containing numerous charts, calculations, etc. Hanging listlessly above it is a holographic display, interrupted only by stray bits of dust floating through the air.
LIGHTSPEED sits in the middle of it all, in a large captain’s chair. A holographic keyboard hovers above his legs, and surrounding him are three holographic screens. On the left is an image of DABRAIN. On the center is an outside view of the HLP station, and on his far right are ship statistics.
LIGHTSPEED turns to look at the screen to his left.


LIGHTSPEED: Acknowledged Command. Jumping now.

DABRAIN: God speed, captain.

DABRAIN’s image flickers out, and is replaced by a majestic view of the area surround the GRANDEUR, continuous with the center screen. LIGHTSPEED punches a few keys on his keyboard, and turns to look at the right screen. Calling out, he orders his crew to action.

LIGHTSPEED: Helm, acknowledge jump coordinates.

Next to the table, hunkered over, hard at work on the calculations, a CREWMEMBER #1 makes a few final key presses, and looks up at LIGHTSPEED.

CREWMEMBER #1: Helm, acknowledged. Jump coordinates accepted.

LIGHTSPEED turns back to the center screen, which is now displaying a diagram of the ship, divided into several red-colored segments.

LIGHTSPEED: All stations report in. Charge the jump drive.

CREWMEMBER #2, standing across from CREWMEMBER #1, looks up.

CREWMEMBER #2: Jump drive charged. All systems and stations are go.

The diagram’s segmented ship slowly changes from red to green. Finally, LIGHTSPEED sits back in his chair, and settles himself in.

LIGHTSPEED: Helm, commence the jump.

CREWMEMBER #1: Acknowledged. Helm is making the jump.

We cut to:

SCENE TWENTY. EXT. HLP STATION – NIGHT.

The six ships all begin to move forward, slowly at first, and gradually start to pick up speed. About twenty feet in front of each of them, separate glowing blue holes open up. Spinning rapidly, the holes seem to pull the ships in, and they stretch them longer and longer, until at last the ships enter, and are rapidly engulfed inside. The holes close, and we are left with a few seconds of a panoramic star field view. We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 09, 2005, 02:01:06 pm

UT, you are my hero. I couldn't have asked for a better part. :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 09, 2005, 02:20:44 pm

Great stuff UT. As usual! :yes: :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on February 09, 2005, 02:28:08 pm

excellent dude! :yes:

Although one thing - seeing as how lighty is an l337 pilot in multi, he seeems more eligible for a fighter role. Not that the present one is not suitable that is. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on February 09, 2005, 08:48:24 pm

Nice, yet again. I'm still AWOL, though...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 10, 2005, 01:21:19 pm

Did I put you in before somewhere?  (Sorry if I forgot)

Anyway, make sure to check the Art forum by the end of today. In a couple hours I'm going to be posting art sketches from the movie, in case anyone with some free time wants to do some modeling :)
EDIT: Pictures have been posted :)


SCENE TWENTY-ONE. EXT. STAGING AREA, SPACE – NIGHT.


We open to a vast star field, rotating silently around us. Suddenly, out of the vastness appear the same warp holes, and the six ships shoot out into the surrounding area, the warp holes closing quickly behind them. We cut to:

SCENE TWENTY-TWO. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – NIGHT.

LIGHTSPEED is now standing up in front of his chair, and the holographic displays have moved out wards a bit in front of him. He turns to look at the CREWMEMBER #1 behind him.

LIGHTSPEED: Confirm jump location.

A seconds delay, then the CREWMEMBER #1 responds from his console.

CREWMEMBER #1:Jump location confirmed. All stations reported in.

LIGHTSPEED nods and turns back to face the front of the bridge. He reaches out and gently taps one of the displays hovering in front of him. Up pops the diagnostics of his five-fighter escort. Tapping on the lead fighter, it enlarges and glows red.

LIGHTSPEED: Alpha one, come in, over.

We cut to:

SCENE TWENTY-TWO. INT. CORSAIR’S COCKPIT – NIGHT.

CORSAIR is surrounded by instrument panels, a green glow falling on his face, giving him a surreal edge. The stars glitter softly behind the protection of his canopy.

CORSAIR: Alpha one acknowledging. Requesting orders, over.

LIGHTSPEED: Alpha is to go under and investigate the enemy presence. Follow the mission briefing for further details, over.

CORSAIR: Roger that Package Lead. Requesting vector to target area, over.

LIGHTSPEED: Vector is…(a short pause)…twenty-two, niner, five, niner, four hundred klicks.

CORSAIR: Vectors confirmed. Alpha is going under. Over and out.

We cut to:

SCENE TWENTY-THREE. EXT. CORSAIR’S FIGHTER – NIGHT.

We see a small figure turn to the fighters flying in formation beside him. He gives a thumbs up sign, and depresses a button on his control panel. Cut to:

SCENE TWENTY-FOUR. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – NIGHT.

We open to see CREWMEMBER #3, sitting at a console. He turns around in his swivel chair to face LIGHTSPEED, who is still facing the front of the bridge, looking at the starry sky beyond.

CREWMEMBER #3: Sir, the fighters have gone under and disappeared from our radar.

LIGHTSPEED gives a nod of acknowledgement without turning.

LIGHTSPEED: God speed pilots…

Cut to:

SCENE TWENTY-FIVE. INT. CORSAIR’S FIGHTER – NIGHT.

The eerie green glow is now replaced by an intermittent red pulse, emanating from small light bulbs on the sides of the cockpit. The once-bright instrument panel is now dulled, and some of the instruments are blacked out.

CORSAIR: Alpha wing, prepare to confirm stealth mode.

CORSAIR moves his throttle backwards, and we cut to:

SCENE TWENTY-SIX. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

We see CORSAIR’s fighter, formerly in the lead, suddenly fire retro thrusters and shoot back behind the formation. Stopping about forty feet behind them, it bobs up and down, the powerful engines working at minimum possible thrust to sustain the formation.
Cut to:

SCENE TWENTY-SEVEN. INT. CORSAIR’S FIGHTER – NIGHT.

CORSAIR looks down and presses a few buttons on his instrument panel, then looks up at the fighters in front of him. His gazes passes from fighter to fighter as he speaks to each of them. The voices of the pilots are fuzzy and distorted by the static of the radio.

CORSAIR: Gortef, confirm stealth mode and call sign, over.

GORTEF: This is Gortef. Call sign Alpha Two. Stealth mode active, over.

CORSAIR: Trashman, confirm stealth and call sign, over.

TRASHMAN: Trashman here. Stealth on and call sign confirmed as Alpha Three, over.

CORSAIR: Acknowledged. Janos, confirm stealth and call sign, over.

JANOS: Janos confirms as Alpha Four, stealth active, over.

CORSAIR: Karajorma, you’re the last buddy. Confirm stealth active and callsign, over.

KARAJORMA: Karajorma accepts and acknowledges as Alpha Five, stealth is active, over.

CORSAIR presses a few buttons, and we cut to:


SCENE TWENTY-EIGHT. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

CORSAIR’s fighter lurches forward with a sudden burst of thrust, and once more resumes its position at the lead of the formation.

CORSAIR: Call signs accepted. Alpha, follow me.

His fighter rolls over to the left, and the four following craft do the same, barreling over and plunging down. We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Gloriano on February 10, 2005, 01:25:54 pm

it's really good to see that you started doing HLP movie again it's been fantastic so far

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 10, 2005, 04:31:12 pm

Oh... my... god. I'm Alpha 1!! :):yes: That just made my day. Really, it did. I get home from school to this... heheheh... the life of a fighter jock for me!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on February 10, 2005, 04:39:23 pm

well, at least you know you wont be cannon fodder at least. Alpha 1 always survives! :D

UT: Great work as usual man :yes:

Silly question: do i show up in here as cannon fodder? :nervous: Do I show up at all? :shake:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on February 10, 2005, 06:37:36 pm

Or what about Lt. Cannonfodder... :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on February 10, 2005, 07:09:19 pm

Who! I'm in! (anyone notice that i didn't confirm my stealth status? Attentional or a slip up UT?)

Great job UT! now I'm gonna name a ship class I make after you...no wait..that would be a bit akward..Oh well, I'll think of something! just don't let me die!:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 10, 2005, 07:18:17 pm

Oh, crap. Trashman, you're gonna get us all killed.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on February 10, 2005, 08:24:09 pm

I wanna be a Nebula Forcaster.:lol: Anyways, still getting better,but, I want EXPLOSIONS!;7

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 11, 2005, 10:09:43 am

This is sort of short, but hopefully I'll be able to post more later. If not, well, at least you guys get something :)
And that was a typo, Trashman, sorry :D It's been corrected. Your stealth mode is on.


SCENE TWENTY-NINE. EXT. TARGET AREA – NIGHT.

We are now deep inside an asteroid field. The colossal space-born hunks of rock drift by, temporarily obscuring our view. A particularly giant hunk floats past, and when our vision clears, we see a massive starship, thousands of feet long, sailing towards us. Beneath it hover several smaller vessels. Suddenly, CORSAIR’s squadron roars from behind us, jetting quickly towards the enemy fleet. We follow them, as they jut in and out of the asteroid field, separating, closing, and doing everything they can to avoid the asteroids that are closing in around them. CORSAIR’s voice comes over the radio, calm and commanding.

CORSAIR: Alphas four and five, are you ready to deploy ECMs?

JANOS: Alpha four go.

KARAJORMA: Alpha five go.

CORSAIR: Alpha four and five, deploy ECMs.

We see two large pods underneath KARAJORMA’s and JANOS’s fighters blow off of their fighters, sending them hurling below them. A bright line ripples down their centers, splitting them in half, revealing a mass of machinery. A red light blinks in and out.

JANOS: Alpha Four here. Sensors deployed.

KARAJORMA: Alpha Five – sensors deployed.

CORSAIR: Alpha is beginning their run.

The fighters veer towards the fleet, which we can see is comprised of about twenty ships, all of varying sizes. Alpha approaches the largest one first. Slipping silently into formation beside it, TRASHMAN’s fighter turns sideways, facing the colossal ship.

TRASHMAN: Alpha three beginning scan. Cover me.

CORSAIR: Roger Alpha Three. Alpha wing, set up guard positions around Alpha Three.

GORTEF: Roger.

JANOS: Roger.

KARAJORMA: Roger.

Cut to:

SCENE THIRTY. INT. TRASHMAN’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

TRASHMAN is working hard at his controls, struggling to keep the fighter in perfect alignment with the massive Battlecruiser. The hulking form of the ship is outlined and shaded in green on his canopy. Two lines are slowly moving across the ship, and a blinking red SCANNING is flashing above the target. This goes on for a few seconds, until finally the SCANNING changes to SCAN COMPLETE and disappears. The green around the ship does the same, leaving it her natural color.

TRASHMAN: Three here, scan complete. Reading data.

TRASHMAN looks down at his panel for a few seconds as the data from his scan comes through. His eyes widen as he does so.

TRASHMAN: ****!

Cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Janos on February 11, 2005, 10:16:03 am

Trashman, jump! Trashman! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO :(

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 11, 2005, 10:15:35 am

Here, added:

SCENE THIRTY-ONE. CORSAIR’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

CORSAIR is sitting, alert and expectant, a finger tapping up and down on his throttle column. Suddenly, TRASHMAN’s voice, hurried and urgent, breaks through the silence.


TRASHMAN: Three here. We’ve got a problem Alpha.

CORSAIR suddenly perks up at this news. His finger stops tapping and instead he grips the throttle tightly.

CORSAIR: This is One. What’s the problem?

TRASHMAN: I’ve got a scan on the main ship in the fleet, ship is confirmed as a Battlecruiser, I repeat, ship is confirmed as a battlecruiser, Registration BC-21, port of calling, Battlecruiser Online.

CORSAIR’s shifts his hand on the throttle and looks around his cockpit instinctively.

CORSAIR: (Under breath) ****.

He looks back up and rolls his fighter slightly to the side, looking down at one of the vessels below the Battlecruiser.
CORSAIR: Alright guys, keep it cool. There’s another vessel down there. Let’s finish this up and we can go home.

We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on February 11, 2005, 11:09:03 am

:lol:

Best. Plot Development. Ever. I so didn't see that coming. :lol:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 11, 2005, 11:33:28 am

Oh man, it keeps getting better and better.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on February 11, 2005, 05:29:09 pm

You bring the Devil(tm), Derek (un)Smart into this! Brilliant! :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: .::Tin Can::. on February 11, 2005, 05:39:17 pm

Go get em Corsair. :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on February 11, 2005, 05:50:39 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
Did I put you in before somewhere?  (Sorry if I forgot)

Nah, I've just been campaigning to get into the story as I'm the probably the most senior active member of the community to not make an appearance in any of your stories :)

If you want inspiration, choose either one of my titles :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Blaise Russel on February 11, 2005, 06:45:14 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
TRASHMAN: I’ve got a scan on the main ship in the fleet, ship is confirmed as a Battlecruiser, I repeat, ship is confirmed as a battlecruiser, Registration BC-21, port of calling, Battlecruiser Online.

"Trashman, see if you can get into the Battlecruiser's docking bay."

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on February 11, 2005, 06:57:48 pm

"I can't capt'n! The fighter can'ne take no more!.....Besides the fighterbay seems to be blocked by an invisible force field." :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on February 12, 2005, 12:36:26 am

duuuude! Sweet plot development! But whatever happens...dont mention his evil name thrice! Otherwise he may just show up :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Genryu on February 12, 2005, 04:08:32 am

As long as it isn't Battlecuiser Millenium :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 12, 2005, 10:24:50 am

Eehehe.. Excelent stuff dude! :yes: Looking forward to the next installment.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: pyro-manic on February 12, 2005, 12:18:01 pm

Yes! I thought so!

Keep it up, UT - this is great! :nod:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Lt.Cannonfodder on February 12, 2005, 01:03:58 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Goober5000
Or what about Lt. Cannonfodder... :nervous:

I'd be shot or brutally killed in the first scene I'd appear in :lol:

Good stuff, UT. Keep up the good work!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 12, 2005, 01:52:39 pm

Wow, that part seemed to cause quite a stir :)

Predictable, but only because I wanted to write it :D:

SCENE THIRTY-TWO. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

The fighters swiftly move into a delta formation, with CORSAIR in the lead. Rolling over to the side, they point at the next vessel, and jet straight down. Zipping past numerous smaller ships and space debris, they weave in and out, in an invisible dance amongst the floating hulks of metal. The new ship is blocky and pointy, and seems to be constructed almost completely of flat surfaces. Smaller details begin to materialize as the vessel grows larger and larger in front of the fighter wing. They slow down and move into formation below and behind it. Cut to:

SCENE THIRTY-THREE. INT. CORSAIR’S COCKPIT – NIGHT.

CORSAIR looks down and makes some adjustments on his instrument panel. He looks up and slightly behind him at KARAJORMAs and JANOS’ vessels.

CORSAIR: Alpha four and five, what’s the status on those ECMs?

After a short pause, the two reply.

KARAJORMA: By the looks of it, we have about twenty minutes left on my pods.

JANOS: I’ve got about fifteen. Let’s hurry this up, One.

CORSAIR: Acknowledged. Three!

CORSAIR turns to look in a slightly different direction, this time at TRASHMAN’s fighter.

TRASHMAN: Aye, sir?

CORSAIR: This is our last ship, get started on it. Four and Five will cover.

TRASHMAN: Acknowledged, moving into position.

CORSAIR looks almost directly across now, at GORTEF’s fighter.

CORSAIR: Two, follow me, we’re going to find an exit point.

GORTEF: Acknowledged one, converging on your wing.

Cut to:


SCENE THIRTY-FOUR. EXT. FIGHTER WING – NIGHT.

We see a flare of thrust burst from TRASHMAN’s fighter, as he maneuver’s closer to the enemy vessel. KARAJORMA and JANOS’s fighters line up on his wings as he begins the scan. Meanwhile, CORSAIR and GORTEF’s fighters rotate around and jet off in a different direction. We follow them as they fly farther away from the enemy ships, deeper into the asteroid field beyond. Flying closely with each other, they demonstrate an amazing amount of piloting skill as they weave back and forth amongst the hurtling rocks. CORSAIR’s voice comes over the radio.

CORSAIR: You ok over there two?

GORTEF’s fighter dodges up and over an especially large asteroid, and quickly latches onto CORSAIR’s fighter once more.

GORTEF: Aye, sir.

CORSAIR’s fighter turns to the left and darts away from us, GORTEF in tow. We follow the two of them as they come to a clearer section of the field, surrounded by two colossal asteroids. We cut to:

SCENE THIRTY-FIVE. INT. CORSAIR’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

CORSAIR looks down and taps on some various items on his control panel. An image of an hourglass-like shape, surrounded by a taurus, appears on the center most display. COMPUTING flashes above the image for a few seconds, then quickly slides to the side, the Taurus rotating on its axis so that it goes from vertical to horizontal. COMPUTING is replaced by CALCULATIONS COMPLETE. ROUTE OK. on the bottom of the screen. CORSAIR looks up and over at GORTEF’s fighter on his wing.
CORSAIR: This looks good. Let’s get ba—

He is suddenly interrupted by a loud squelch emanating from his radio. Clutching his head in pain, CORSAIR doubles over. Immediately, a static-laced voice cuts through the noise.

KARAJORMA: Mayday, mayday! They’ve found us, I repeat, we nee—

The message cuts off suddenly in another squeal of static. CORSAIR looks up and punches a few buttons on his panel. Instantly, the dull red is replaced by the former bright green, and the panel is lit up as several dormant instruments come online.

CORSAIR: Two, two, we’ve got a mayday, I repeat, we have a mayday. Get on the horn with the Grandeur and follow me in.

GORTEF: Acknowledged One.

Cut to:



Hope you all enjoy the action ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: HotSnoJ on February 12, 2005, 02:08:00 pm

I AM ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT!!!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 12, 2005, 02:09:27 pm

*gasp*
Need... more...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 12, 2005, 02:49:16 pm

I hope you all enjoy this. How's my writing? :)

So who wants to make this a mission in FRED2? :D


SCENE THIRTY-SIX. EXT. GORTEF AND CORSAIR’s FIGHTERS – NIGHT.

The fighters rear upwards as their engines come to full power. They rocket forward at breakneck speed, blasting through the asteroid field back to the combat zone. We cut to:

SCENE THIRTY-SEVEN. EXT. COMBAT ZONE – NIGHT.

Jet engines and cannon fire mingle together, forming an incoherent scream of war as the Hard Light fighters engage the enemy. The three fighters are cutting a swath through the enemy formation, their yellow-orange tracer rounds flashing through the night. Shell casings rain down from their wings as they fire, trying desperately to hold off the inevitable. Cut to:

SCENE THIRTY-EIGHT. INT. KARAJORMA’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

KARAJORMA is frantically trying to keep his muscular fighter’s power under control, slamming the stick from side to side, struggling against the G-forces being imposed on his body. His face is bathed in the bright green glow of his instrument panel.

KARAJORMA: Mayday, mayday! Requesting assistance, I repeat, reque—

He’s cut off by a loud explosion just behind him, throwing him forward against his safety straps. He yells out in pain, we cut to:

SCENE THIRTY-NINE. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

KARAJORMA’s fighter pitches forward, a colossal explosion going off just behind him. TRASHMAN and JANOS’ fighters split off to the sides as KARAJORMAs fighter careens out of control, narrowly missing them, instead heading towards an oncoming foe. Just when it seems like KARAJORMA’s about to collide, he regains control, stabilizing himself just in front of the enemy fighter. Cut to:

SCENE FOURTY. INT. KARAJORMA’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

We are right up against KARAJORMA’s flight stick. We mute all sounds for a few seconds as he depresses the trigger. A loud click echoes. We cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-ONE. EXT. KARAJORMA’s FIGHTER – NIGHT.

Our hearing is back, just in time to listen as cannon fire erupts from KARAJORMA’s fighter, punching a hole straight through the enemy craft. It explodes in a gigantic fire ball, as KARAJORMA rockets backwards. Cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-TWO. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

The rest of the squadron is hardly doing any better. TRASHMAN is struggling desperately with his fighter, minus one wing, the stub of which is sparking dangerously. JANOS’s fighter is punched through of holes and is leaking fuel, leaving a trail of jet fuel behind his careening fighter. Snapping back and forth, they’re acquiring new targets faster than they’re dispatching the old ones. Shell casings are streaming from their wings, and the enemy fighters are gaining more and more of an advantage. Suddenly, TRASHMAN is caught alone for a split second, and an enemy fighter snaps up in front of him, only a scant few feet away. Cut to:
SCENE FOURTY-THREE. INT. TRASHMAN’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

TRASHMAN screams out and flings his hands in front of his face in a futile effort to save himself. The enemy fighter trains its cannons on his cockpit, yet suddenly a stream of gunfire erupts from above, slicing the enemy in half, detonating it in a blinding explosion. Cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-FOUR. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

GORTEF and CORSAIR scream past TRASHMAN’s listless fighter, weaving between the enemy, flak exploding around them.

CORSAIR: Left, left, left! Watch it Two!

GORTEF: I got ‘em, I got ‘em!

GORTEF’s fighter, still maintaining formation, snaps to the left, flying sideways. GORTEF sends a screaming hail of lead, pulverizing an enemy fighter.

CORSAIR: Target split V!

CORSAIR’s fighter pulls up, and GORTEF thrusts his fighter down, all the while the two are maintaining their formation with each other. Gunfire lances out from the fighters, detonating two separate enemy fighters. The two of them continue onwards, rolling and flipping in a giant barrel roll, slicing past waves of enemy craft.

CORSAIR: Alpha, form on us!

They are joined by the remaining three members of Alpha wing, now badly battered from the ongoing fight. As the five small fighters dart in and out between the enemy capital ships, gunfire rockets towards them, zipping past them on all sides.

CORSAIR: Follow us!

CORSAIR and GORTEF’s fighters careen to the side, blasting towards the asteroid field, the rest of Alpha wing in tow behind them. A gaggle of enemy fighters is closing rapidly. In front of them, a colossal asteroid looms, and the five fighters dart into it’s craggy surface, weaving in and out around the pyres of rock reaching far into the sky. The enemy fighters close into gun range, sending a barrage of bullets from their cannons, slicing into the ground underneath the weaving fighters below them. GORTEF dodges behind a particularly large pillar, and just behind him a stream of gunfire lances out, cutting the pillar in half in a storm of dirt and rock.

CORSAIR: Down!

The five fighters dart into an opening inside the asteroid, and scream through an enormous cave, gunfire ricocheting around them. JANOS’s fighter is hit by a stray bullet, sending him tumbling past CORSAIR’s fighter, swirling in a tight death spiral.

CORSAIR: Janos!

JANOS’s fighter careens into an outcropping, the explosion filling up the entire cave. CORSAIR hurls his fighter around, now flying backwards through the cave. Cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-FIVE. INT. CORSAIR’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

CORSAIR’s face is frozen in a mask of rage as he opens fire, screaming in fury. The flickering light of gunfire lights up his face, as the searing bullets hit home on the enemy fighters, cutting them down left and right. Cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-SIX. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

Suddenly, light appears at the end of the tunnel, and the fighters shoot out of it, flying once more into space, the enemy fighters close behind them. CORSAIR wheels around, and darts to the left across the asteroid once more. This time, however, the colossal shape of the GRANDEUR greets them. The enemy, unsuspecting, blindly follows them into the trap, as the GRANDEUR powers up her powerful beam cannons, cutting giant swaths into the enemy formation. Cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-SEVEN. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – NIGHT.

LIGHTSPEED is standing in front of his chair, pointing out various targets and shouting out his orders. Wheeling around on his heel, he points at a CREWMEMBER #4.

LIGHTSPEED: Get this fighters docked! Helm!

He switches his gaze to CREWMEMBER #1.

LIGHTSPEED: As soon as they’re back, plot a direct course back to Hard Light!

CREWMEMBER #1 salutes, and we cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-EIGHT. EXT. FIGHTER FORMATION – NIGHT.

The four remaining fighters are now desperately making a break for the safety of the GRANDEUR’s fighter bay. Dodging enemy gunfire and friendly flak, they scream towards their destination.

CORSAIR: Retros! Hit your retros!

Plumes of flame jet out from the front of the fighters as they close on their target with reckless abandon, their fragile frames shaking with the force of the jets. Cut to:

SCENE FOURTY-NINE. INT. CORSAIR’s COCKPIT – NIGHT.

The cockpit is shaking violently as CORSAIR struggles to stay upright, the docking bay growing larger and larger in front of him. CORSAIR starts to call out distances over the radio.

CORSAIR: One hundred meters…Fifty meters…Twenty meters!

He lets out a war cry as his fighter careens into the fighter bay, smashing into the deck, sending equipment and debris flying, the other fighters close behind him. Cut to:

SCENE FIFTY. INT. GRANDEUR’s BRIDGE – NIGHT.

LIGHTSPEED points at CREWMEMBER #1.

LIGHTSPEED: (Shouts) Jump!

Cut to:

SCENE SIXTY. EXT.GRANDEUR – NIGHT.

The familiar warphole open again, and the GRANDEUR quickly enters it, just as the enemy begins to bring up reinforcements. Gunfire fires past where the GRANDEUR used to be, but quickly ceases. Cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on February 12, 2005, 04:57:06 pm

Another jewel! You spin a fine tale UT..

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 12, 2005, 05:15:10 pm

Noooooooooooooo Janos!!

It always hurts to lose a fellow serviceman... :sigh: Godspeed, pilot.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Janos on February 12, 2005, 05:26:33 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Corsair
Noooooooooooooo Janos!!

It always hurts to lose a fellow serviceman... :sigh: Godspeed, pilot.

Revenge me brothers

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on February 12, 2005, 05:44:06 pm

We shall! Derek the Tard and his cronies are going to recive the asskicking of their lives by the righteous defenders of HLP.

B.t.w. - it should be "Avenge me"....

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on February 12, 2005, 08:02:27 pm

kickass dude! :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Nuclear1 on February 12, 2005, 09:08:22 pm

I wanna be a random ensign that dies! :p

Anyway, awesome as usual, UT. :nod:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on February 12, 2005, 11:42:31 pm

Took a long read but good stuff so far.......... :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on February 13, 2005, 03:34:04 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Janos


Revenge me brothers

Vengeance is overrated :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 13, 2005, 05:49:18 pm

I take it everyone liked it :)

SCENE SIXTY-ONE. INT. FORUM HEADQUARTERS – DAY.

It is the next day, and the admins are gathered once more in the control room. ADMINISTRATOR is also present, sitting in THUNDER’s old chair. The signs of the incident is showing in their haggard faces and the large coffee mugs resting on the table in front of them. SHRIKE sighs and rubs his temple. He looks up at TOPACE, who is standing in the center of the half-circle.

SHRIKE: How many know…?

TOPACE: Just the support crew, and I’m installing some security measures to try to keep them quiet.

SHRIKE: And Janos…?

TOPACE looks down for a brief second, then resumes his gaze at SHRIKE.

TOPACE: We lost him. His fighter was hit and went down.

SHRIKE sighs heavily and looks at some paperwork in front of him. He turns to WINDRUNNER.

SHRIKE: Put out a bulletin that Janos was…God, I don’t know…make something up.

WINDRUNNER: (Nods, understanding) Yes sir.

SHRIKE turns to TOPACE and waves his hand at him.

SHRIKE: Thank you TOPACE.

TOPACE salutes and wheels around, exiting the room. SHRIKE turns to the admins around him. He leans back in his chair and exhales.

SHRIKE: So what does this mean…?

STYXX leans forward to look at SHRIKE.

STYXX: It means that we need to bolster our defenses. I recommend we accelerate the Defense Force’s training programs.

SHRIKE turns to look at another admin, ICEFIRE.

SHRIKE: What do you think…?

ICEFIRE looks down and thinks for a bit. He swivels his chair back and forth for a seconds, tapping a pencil on the desk. He stops and looks back up at SHRIKE.

ICEFIRE: I agree…but…I don’t know, I’d like to keep our military to the minimum necessary.

SHRIKE nods and looks around the table.

SHRIKE: What about the rest of you?

A chorus of nods gives him his answer. SHRIKE nods in reply.

SHRIKE: Alright… Goober5000 – draw up a new training program for the DF. I want it on my desk by tomorrow.

GOOBER5000: Will do, Shrike.

SHRIKE turns to look at SANDWICH.

SHRIKE: You’re in charge of implementing whatever he makes up. Think you can handle it?

SHRIKE manages a small smile, and SANDWICH returns it with a grin.

SANDWICH: Of course.

SHRIKE nods and turns to his compatriots. Standing up, he collects some papers off the desk. Forcing a quick smile, he folds the papers under his arm, the other admins waiting expectantly.

SHRIKE: Well, let’s get to work gentlemen. We have a forum to run.

He turns around, and we fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on February 13, 2005, 05:58:32 pm

Seems to be coming along nicely. Still wondering what role "Administator" will play, though...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 14, 2005, 10:01:02 am

:) It'd be neat if someone actually animated this. I'd love to direct the space combat sequences.



SCENE SIXTY-TWO. INT. HARD LIGHT SERVER ROOM – DAY.

We are in a darkened room, lit only by the faint glow of servers and unattended workstations. It is obvious that the entire system is automated. Suddenly, we hear the rattling sound of a doorknob coming from one side of the room. A moment later, the door quickly opens. A figure is framed in a shaft of light coming from beyond. The figure steps inside, and the door is shut behind him. It’s too dark to make out who the intruder is, as he slowly and quietly shuffles to a workstation. Taking out a small object, he sets it on the desk in front of him. Turning to the workstation, he hits a key, and the small screen suddenly bursts to life, revealing the intent, concentrating face of COBRA. As the dormant portal comes to life, he begins to attach several cables from the object to open ports on the computer. Working intensely, he glances up at a large, glowing display. On it are the words HLP SENSOR NET, and below that are two more words, both surrounded in separate boxes. On the left is a bright green box named ACTIVE. On the other, there is a dull red unlit box named INACTIVE. COBRA looks back down at his station, and begins to type on the keyboard. Dialogue boxes pop up and close down at an incredible rate, too fast to keep track of. Suddenly, COBRA stops and looks at the small device sitting next to him. A green light is rapidly flashing on the front, then suddenly turns a constant green. He looks up at the previous display. The ACTIVE box is now dull, and the INACTIVE box is brightly lit and flashing. Turning back to the computer, he quickly repeats the process, this time several different boxes appearing. He stops and glances up at the display. The INACTIVE box stays stubbornly lit for a few seconds, until it finally fades and the flickering ACTIVE box reappears, then turns a constant green. COBRA smirks and stands up, picking up the object and moving it behind the computer, hiding it away out of sight. He taps a few more keys on the keyboard, and the portal returns to it’s previous dormant state. COBRA hurriedly wipes off the keyboard and walks away. When he reaches the door, he pauses to look around the room one last time. When he is satisfied that it looks satisfactory, he turns and shuts the door behind him. When the door closes, we cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 14, 2005, 04:26:27 pm

Keep it going, keep it going... :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on February 14, 2005, 04:41:20 pm

good job :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on February 14, 2005, 07:28:37 pm

:wtf: Cobra's a hacker? :lol:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 15, 2005, 10:01:44 am

Happy, Grey? :p


SCENE SIXTY-THREE. INT. HARD LIGHT – DAY.

It’s business as usual in the Hard Light forum. Forum members are milling about, shifting from topic to topic, oblivious to the malicious events swirling all around them. We zoom in to find GREY WOLF 2009, deep in discussion with several other members in a thread. His arms are flailing madly in the air as he punctuates his speech with decisive strokes of his fists.

GREY WOLF 2009: And then she went like this…

He wiggles one of his arms.

GREY WOLF 2009: And I went like this…

He wiggles his other arm.

GREY WOLF 2009: And then we went like this…

He crisscrosses his arms, making jet noises as he does so. The others in the thread have suitably shocked expressions on their faces.

GREY WOLF 2009: And then…

He pauses for dramatic effect. His audience leans forward in their seats.

GREY WOLF 2009: (Calm tone) We went like this…

He flutters his arms to his lap. The others around him let out whoops of surprise and joy. GREY WOLF 2009 sits back in the couch, a smug look on his face. Just then, a troop of HLP DEFENSE FORCE MEMBERS burst out of a side door, and begin marching through the forum, making for the other side. People clear out of their way as onward they come. GREY WOLF 2009 turns to look at the commotion, his eyes narrowing as he stares intently. Suddenly, they widen.

GREY WOLF 2009: Hey! That guy owes me money!

GREY WOLF 2009 leaps over the couch, making for one of the members of the troop.

GREY WOLF 2009: Hey! Hey, stop! Flipside! Hey man, stop!

FLIPSIDE keeps on walking, seemingly oblivious to his pursuer. GREY WOLF 2009 jogs after him, catching up and jogging beside him. He turns to look at FLIPSIDE, who stares blissfully ahead.
GREY WOLF 2009: Hey man, hey…about that, hey, I’m talking to you.

The troop speeds up a little, and GREY WOLF 2009 starts to fall behind. He stops and stares aghast at FLIPSIDE as he continues onward, eventually exiting the forum out a side door. GREY WOLF 2009 stands puzzled and flabbergasted at this blatant brush-off. He returns to his thread and sulks. Turning to his audience, he expresses his thoughts with all the gusto of a general addressing his army.

GREY WOLF 2009: I’m tellin’ you! This ain’t right, this, this…defense force!

He spits the words out like venom.

GREY WOLF 2009: Why, when we were fighting in Capella, and even during the first board war, we used the people! We didn’t have no damn dirty military!

The others around him nod in chorus, hanging on his every word. Suddenly, a door whooshes open, and in-steps COBRA. GREY WOLF 2009 turns and raises a hand in greeting.

GREY WOLF 2009: Cobra!

COBRA turns and walks towards him. GREY WOLF 2009 turns to his audience and whispers.

GREY WOLF 2009: One of my more admiring followers.

He turns back to COBRA, who has taken a stand just behind the couch.

GREY WOLF 2009: Cobra! My buddy, where ya been? I was just telling them that story you liked so much!

COBRA shrugs and stays mute. GREY WOLF 2009 gives him an odd look.

GREY WOLF 2009: Hey man, you ok? You didn’t get lost on the way to the bathroom again, did you?

COBRA perks up as if he’s just remembering something.

COBRA: (Nerdy voice) Ohhh…

He stares at GREY WOLF 2009 blankly for a few seconds. GREY WOLF 2009 returns it with a disgusted look.

GREY WOLF 2009: No…don’t tell me…

COBRA bobs out of his daze and smiles at GREY WOLF 2009.

COBRA: No no no, I forgot…where’s the elevator to the admin’s quarters?

GREY WOLF 2009 gives him another odd off-handed look.

GREY WOLF 2009: Why do you need to know…?

COBRA: One of the admins wanted something from me…I think…

GREY WOLF 2009 turns on the couch to face him.

GREY WOLF 2009: Well, did you search?

COBRA: No…

GREY WOLF 2009 sighs, exasperated and points to a door underneath a balcony, on the far side of the room.

GREY WOLF 2009: Right over there. Take the elevator to the top, and ask for whoever called you up there.

COBRA smiles stupidly and walks away, waving over his shoulder.

COBRA: Thank you!

He continues walking towards the door, tripping over a sleeping CARL, who snarls and leaps at him. COBRA dashes through the door, and GREY WOLF 2009 shakes his head. Turning to his followers, he sighs and smirks, rolling his eyes.

GREY WOLF 2009: Noobs, eh?

The others laugh, and as GREY WOLF 2009 begins to enthrall them with another story, we cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: pyro-manic on February 15, 2005, 11:59:41 am

:):yes:

More! More!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on February 15, 2005, 03:12:12 pm

:lol:

Nice job :yes2:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on February 15, 2005, 05:28:35 pm

:lol:  This is great:

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
COBRA: Where’s the elevator to the admin’s quarters?

GREY WOLF 2009: Did you search?

COBRA: No…

However I'm confused about Grey Wolf's opening monologue.  What was that about?  (Or was it intentionally vague?)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: neo_hermes on February 15, 2005, 05:32:38 pm

hehe

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 15, 2005, 05:53:05 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Goober5000
:lol:  This is great:However I'm confused about Grey Wolf's opening monologue.  What was that about?  (Or was it intentionally vague?)

I believe he was describing his maneuvers with a certain female pilot...;7

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 15, 2005, 06:23:38 pm

Teh Sviit! :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on February 15, 2005, 06:29:36 pm

haha, that's fuuuuunny...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 19, 2005, 06:46:04 am

Sorry to take so long. Schoolwork, life, and general writer's block.
Speaking of which, is my writing still good? I fear that I am slipping into using basic words too many times :)

And it should be noted that the last movie ended at about 50 pages. This one is already at 52 and only about a third or so through :)


SCENE SIXTY-FOUR. EXT. HARD LIGHT STATION – DAY.

The HARD LIGHT STATION is hanging in the sky beyond us. Nebulas pulsate and asteroids drift listlessly by, obscuring the station from our view intermittently. Suddenly, thrusters flare in the dark night, and a small ship comes to life in the dark. It seems miniscule in comparison to the vastness around it as it darts quickly towards the HARD LIGHT STATION. As it moves, voices come over the radio, distorted from the static.

HARD LIGHT CONTROL: (VOICE OVER) Unidentified vessel, please state name and intention, over.

UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL: This is the CS Phoenix, requesting docking clearance, over.

A short pause interrupts the conversation as the data is run through the computer. HARD LIGHT CONTROL’s voice comes back over the line.

HARD LIGHT CONTROL: Phoenix, this is Hard Light Control, please state cargo, number of persons, and nature of visit, over.

CS PHEONIX: No cargo, one persons aboard. Nature of visit is pleasure, over.

HARD LIGHT CONTROL pauses once again, this time for even longer. The vessel gets close and closer.

HARD LIGHT CONTROL: This is Hard Light Control to Phoenix, clearance granted. Approach Docking Bay Six and await guidance, over.

CS PHEONIX: This is Pheonix to Hard Light Control. Acknowledged, moving to intercept location, over.

HARD LIGHT CONTROL: Welcome to Hard Light, Pheonix, over and out.

The tiny vessel maneuvers to the side and fires its rockets, thrusting it in a different direction. Gradually, the looming station grows bigger in front of it, as the small craft jets towards a colossal docking bay, jutting out from the side of the station. Moving closer and closer, a large number SIX can be seen on the massive hangar doors. The vessel stops in front of the doors for a few moments, until they finally, reluctantly, slide open vertically, allowing passage through. The vessel begins to move forward once more, and we cut to:

SCENE SIXTY-FIVE. INT. DOCKING BAY SIX – DAY.

We are now looking out of the docking bay, and watch as the PHEONIX majestically glides into the cavernous bay. Finding an empty spot amongst the littered floor, the pilot sets her down gracefully, the doors closing behind her. Cut to:

SCENE SIXTY-SIX. INT. CS PHEONIX – DAY.

The pilot, still sitting in his chair, flicks a few switches and powers down the vessel. The lights dim and the instrument panels switch off as the PILOT unbuckles himself, his face obscured by both the seat and the darkness. He walks past us, still face unseen, and we pause for a few moments to hear the whining of the engines, reluctant to relinquish their powered state. Cut to:

SCENE SIXTY-SEVEN. INT. DOCKING BAY SIX – DAY.

The PILOT walks out of the side hatch on the craft. He is massive, almost as big as SANDWICH by what we can see. His face is still unseen as he walks down the ladder and jumps onto the deck with a thud. Looking around, he clicks a beeper hanging from a key ring, and the hatch on the ship closes. Clicking it again, we hear two successive beeps as the ship’s alarm is activated, and the PILOT strolls out of the bay. Cut to:

SCENE SIXTY-EIGHT. INT. FREESPACE MODDING – DAY.

We are back to the familiar FREESPACE MODDING sector. Whether any progress has been made or not since the attack is unseen, as guns, half finished models, and beer mugs are strewn messily about the floor. Numerous data displays dot the hall, as people discuss loudly or choose to gawk at the pictures on the displays. A side door opens and the same figure enters, unnoticed by his peers. Walking quickly to the bar, he sits down in front of it and orders a drink. He sighs as .::TIN CAN::., the waiter passes him his beer. The PILOT takes a deep slug of it. .::TIN CAN::., busy cleaning a glass with a rag, eyes him suspiciously.

.::TIN CAN::.: Never seen you around here before…tourist?

The PILOT sets his glass down and shakes his head. His back is still turned to us, obscuring his face from his view.

PILOT: I’ve been here once or twice before…

.::TIN CAN::. Looks pleasantly surprised, he extends his hand and the PILOT grasps it. Smiling, .::TIN CAN::. welcomes him.

.::TIN CAN::.: Well then! Welcome back to Hard Light, mister…I’m sorry, I didn’t’ quite catch your name.

The PILOT gives a good shake with his hand and sets it on the table.

PILOT: Kalifreth…my name is Kalfireth.

We pan around to finally see KALFIRETH’s face. He is smiling jovially, yet for some reason we cannot shake the idea that he looks uncannily similar to the THUNDER of ages past.

.::TIN CAN::.: Well, welcome once again, Kalfireth. Exits are…

He turns and points at two side doors.

.::TIN CAN::.: Over there and there…and there are flamethrowers underneath your seats.

He points at the couches behind KALFIRETH, who turns to look. Turning back, he sees .::TIN CAN::.’s smiling face.

.::TIN CAN::.: Enjoy your stay!

.::TIN CAN::. Shuffles away to get back to his work, and KALFIRETH looks around him one last time, then looks down at his drink.

KALFIRETH: I’m sure I wil…

Tipping his head back, he takes a huge swig of his mug, and we cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 19, 2005, 08:09:14 am

Quote

What will become of the GTAD Thunder?

Will Admiral Avery make it off the ship? And how can there be an Admiral Avery on both the Thunder and the Aquila?

Will Arthur ever get a cup of tea out of the Heart of Gold?

Find out in next weeks exciting installment of the Hitch Hikers Guide To The Galaxy.

:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: pyro-manic on February 19, 2005, 01:20:16 pm

UT: It's Phoenix, not pheonix, and you spelled Kalfireth as kalifreth at least once...

Good stuff, though. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on February 19, 2005, 11:43:14 pm

Still good.:D Need more.:nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 20, 2005, 02:27:21 pm

Ok dude. You've written so much it merrits printing. You print your stuff, and I'll buy it. :D

http://www.cafepress.com/cp/info/sell/books.aspx

Though, if you'd convert your scripts into prose, you'd be a GOD! :yes: :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on February 20, 2005, 10:46:11 pm

Cool, I'm a slightly crazed war veteran :)
Once again, compliments on the writing, UT.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 20, 2005, 11:18:35 pm

Whoa. Grey Wolf lost the 2009 off his name!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on February 21, 2005, 07:28:01 pm

whoa, thunder's back. madness! good stuff man, keep it coming.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on February 22, 2005, 01:04:31 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Goober5000
:lol: Funnily enough, that's almost exactly what happened in the Staff forum the other week. :)

Well, they did get the chance to peek into those threads, remember? :doubt: :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 25, 2005, 10:26:34 am

That was made up, I didn't read the threads :p

Anyway, sorry this is taking me so long, but I am doing other real life things, and I'm doing it whenever I have time :)


SCENE SIXTY-NINE. INT. ADMINISTRATOR HOUSING/ADMINISTRATOR’s QUARTERS – DAY.

We open to the familiarly pleasant hallway, lined with doors. We are moving forwards, the doors passing us on either side, until we slow down and situate in front of one particular door. Breathing can be heard in the background, sounding hollow and quick. The name SANDWICH is emblazoned on the digital nameplate. A shadow falls on the door, and a hand reaches out. Clasped tightly in it, shaking slightly, is a small, strange looking device. Holding it up to the speaker box, the voice pipes up again.

SCANNER: Please say name for voice identification.

The speaker box sends out a loud shrieking warble. The breathing quickens and the hand shakes a little more. The camera turns to look down the hallway, then back down at the door.

SCANNER: Voice identification complete.

A laser scanner lances out from the speaker box again, this time scanning in the small device.

SCANNER: Visual identification complete. Welcome Sandwich.

The door whooshes open and the breathing quickens even more. The camera whirls around, looking down both ends of the corridor, then moves inside, the hand disappearing below the screen.

SCENE SEVENTY. INT. SANDWICH’s QUARTERS – DAY.

The room is completely dark as the door shuts behind us. The breathing slows down a bit, yet still sounds raspy and crisp. Looking around, we move around the room, taking it all in. It is well furnished, with a few weapons lying on a table, and another table containing a computer. The bed is unkempt, and the kitchen has an ornate roof fan and a tiny refrigerator and minibar sitting up against the walls. We move towards one of the small dressers next to the bed. Lying on one of them is a long, intricately carved knife. The breathing quickens and grows louder and louder. A hand shakily reaches out towards the knife. It pauses and pulls back for a second, then quickly shoots out and grips it tightly, bringing it high into the air. The breathing gets faster and faster, and the hand fiddles with the knife, as if deciding what to do. Suddenly, it lifts it high into the air, and plunges it straight down into us. We hear a cry and the breathing becomes raspier. The camera becomes woozy and goes fuzzy. We fall to the floor on our knees, then fall over on our side, hearing a loud thunk as if a body was falling. We cut to black.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on February 25, 2005, 03:46:52 pm

AAAH! What happened? Who died? Need next installment now...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on February 25, 2005, 06:56:35 pm

I've been impostered and framed!! Write, write!!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on February 26, 2005, 03:06:35 pm

Here you guys go :)

SCENE SEVENTY ONE. INT. SANDWICH’s QUARTERS – DAY.

We open from the same view as before, yet now the room is brightly lit, and covered with detectives. We cut to a wide view of the room, and lying on the floor, outlined in chalk and with a bloody knife resting in a plastic bag next to him, lies WILLY_PRINCIPAL. Several forum members, decked in the HARD LIGHT DEFENCE FORCE dress uniform, are moving about the area, talking, taking photographs, etc. Cut to:

SCENE SEVENTY TWO. INT. ADMINISTRATOR HOUSING/ADMINISTRATOR’s QUARTERS – DAY.

We cut to the outside of the room. More detectives are milling about, writing down in notepads, etc. Suddenly, the elevator whooshes open, and out steps SANDWICH. All other activity stops as the crowd turns to look at him. SANDWICH seems perplexed, as if unknowing of what is occurring. He jogs to one of the detectives, ALDO_14, who buries himself in some photos sticking out of a file, pretending not to have been staring. SANDWICH lays a hand on his shoulder, and he turns to face him with a forced smile.

SANDWICH: What’s going on here?

ALDO_14 looks at him oddly and glances behind him, pointing at SANDWICH’s room.

ALDO_14: Homicide.

He speaks crisply and returns to his folder. SANDWICH ignores the stares and runs into the room.

SCENE SEVENTY THREE. INT. SANDWICH’s QUARTERS – DAY.

Seeing the body, he stops, aghast. He stutters, and looks back at ALDO_14.

SANDWICH: Wha…who…who did it?

ALDO_14 walks past SANDWICH into the room. Walking behind the body, he stoops and picks up the plastic baggy containing the knife. Holding it out to SANDWICH, he first looks at it, then looks at him.

ALDO_14: You did.

At this, SANDWICH gawks, and two guards approach the pair from behind ALDO_14. He sighs heavily and sets his hands on his hips.

ALDO_14: Sandwich…by the power invested in me by the Hard Light Productions command, I am hereby placing you under arrest, under suspicion of intentional, premeditated homicide. You have the right to remain silent, anything…

His voice fades away as all the sounds around SANDWICH’s stunned form become muted. SANDWICH stares at the body in shock, as the two officers handcuff him and begin to walk him out the door. SANDWICH hangs his head, still in shock, his feet dragging in defeat, the stares from the investigators burning deeper and deeper holes in him. We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on February 26, 2005, 03:29:54 pm

:yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on February 26, 2005, 04:10:31 pm

Sandwich? I never would've guessed it.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on February 27, 2005, 12:09:32 am

But I was impostered, I tell you!! IMPOSTERED!!!!! No!! Leave me alone!!!!1111oneone


Who the heck is Willy Principal, anyway? :wtf:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on February 27, 2005, 04:05:39 pm

Sooo.... The plot thickens... :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on February 28, 2005, 09:12:20 am

You men the Adm's can't kill anyone and not get in trouble, yeah for the normal forum members.:p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on March 02, 2005, 04:47:27 pm

Sorry it's always taking so long lately. Real life concerns, and my want to finish that model I've been working on, have been taking over:

SCENE SEVENTY FOUR. INT. FORUM HEADQUARTERS – DAY.

We open to see SHRIKE standing in the center of the room, staring out the window, his hands folded behind his back. A weary look is on his face. A female ASSISTANT approaches him from behind and holds out a small folder in front of him.

ASSISTANT: Sir…? This is the report on the murder case you requested.

SHRIKE takes it, nodding. Opening it, he leafs through the first few pages. Turning back the ASSISTANT, he smiles.

SHRIKE: Thank you.

The ASSISTANT gives a cursory smile and bows slightly, wheeling around and moving out of the room. SHRIKE turns back to the papers and sighs.

SHRIKE: Why Sandwich…why…?

We zoom in on the papers, and cut to:

SCENE SEVENTY FIVE. INT. TRIBUNAL HEARING ROOM – DAY.

SANDWICH is standing in front of a large podium in a brightly lit room. Behind him sit the trial observers. The jury box is empty for a few minutes. SANDWICH flips the corner of a paper up and down between his fingers, waiting for them return. A few tense seconds past by, and then a door suddenly opens out of sight. The JURORS begin to file in, taking their seats. JUROR #1 stands and folds his arms behind him. Looking at the JUDGE with a stoic expression, he announces the sentence.

JUROR #1: We, the jury, have judged that SANDWICH is…

He pauses and looks at SANDWICH. Looking down, he sighs. At this SANDWICH looks away and down, the result already known to him by now.

JUROR #1: Guilty of first degree pre-meditated murder…

The courtroom erupts in chaos. People are shouting back and forth, supporting or opposing the verdict. JUROR #1 is still standing. As the JUDGE raps his gavel for order, JUROR #1 finishes the verdict.

JUROR #1: However…in light of SANDWICH’s rank and his contributions to this forum as a whole, we, the jury, recommend that he receive a lesser sentence.

He sits down, and the last cries fade away as the JUDGE turns to deliver the final sentence. Tense moments pass as he considers it carefully, looking at his hands. Finally, looking at the entire room, he speaks.
JUDGE: It is in the opinion of this court that the jury’s recommendations are well-founded and reasonable. Taking this into account, I alleviate the maximum penalty of life in prison, and instead sentence Sandwich to be stripped of all rights and privileges as an administrator, and is to be jailed for a period no less than twenty years. His transport is to arrive in three days. He is to be allowed full movement in the non-restricted sectors, so that he may make any arrangements that he deems necessary. Court is dismissed.

He slams down the gavel on his desk. As chaos erupts, we find SANDWICH, still seated in shock. Slowly, he sets his head in his hands and leans forward on the desk. We look at the desk, and see a single tear fall from his head and drop onto the desk, pooling in a small puddle beneath him. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on March 02, 2005, 04:51:47 pm

Keep it coming!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on March 02, 2005, 04:58:40 pm

The scene at the beginning of Shawshank Redemption comes to mind. Except that Andy got two life sentences...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on March 03, 2005, 11:26:53 am

IT was Cobra I tell you, he killed Willy!:nervous: HANG HIM!:nod:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on March 03, 2005, 11:29:36 am

Sandwich was framed in the last story, too.  Do you have something against him, UT? :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: aldo_14 on March 03, 2005, 12:06:23 pm

Ah God, it's like Judge Dredd all over again.......

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on March 03, 2005, 06:11:01 pm

No, it was suicide. Don't you trust the word of a grizzled old veteran? :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Tiara on March 03, 2005, 06:19:12 pm

I don't trust geriatrics...

:p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on March 04, 2005, 01:10:13 pm

At least its not the one armed man... OR IS IT?!!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on March 05, 2005, 05:08:58 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Goober5000
Sandwich was framed in the last story, too.  Do you have something against him, UT? :p

I was? :o

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on March 07, 2005, 12:18:50 pm

Well, the last version of the sequel, to be precise. ;) According to him, it's an important part of the plot.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: RedgeTester on March 10, 2005, 09:36:16 am

I, for one, am enthrawled.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on March 10, 2005, 07:04:04 pm

Short, but hopefully sweet :)

Sorry this is so slow: real life problems, my modding, and other things are taking up my time. But I do have good news: I am trying to edit the first movie to make it better, and might publish it through cafepress for about five or ten bucks or so, if anyone wants it :)


SCENE SEVENTY SIX. INT. FORUM HEADQUARTERS – DAY.

GOOBER5000, STYXX, and COBALTSTARR are all sitting in their chairs around the central table, swinging back and forth slowly, deep in thought. The entire room is in a morose mood, the various forumites typing as slow as possible, some hitting one key at a time. COBALTSTARR coughs loudly.

COBALTSTARR: How’s the…um…how’s the Battlecruiser fleet…?

GOOBER5000, leaning on his arm, tosses a file to COBALTSTARR with a sideways casual glance, then looks back down at the table.

GOOBER5000: Latest recon images…looks like they’re holding position, like they’re waiting for something…

COBALTSTARR leafs through the file and shrugs.

COBALTSTARR: Oh…

He turns to look off into the distance. STYXX yawns loudly and gets up, stretching.

STYXX: Well…I’m gonna go out to grab a drink. Anyone want?

A chorus of disenchanted, listless grunts are his only reply. STYXX shakes his head and starts towards the door.

STYXX: Fine, only me then…

The door swooshes open an instant before he gets there, and in steps ADMINISTRATOR. The two nod cordially at each other, and STYXX steps out of the room, the door closing behind him. The other two admins turn to see their new arrival.

ADMINISTRATOR: Has anyone seen Shrike…?

The other administrators shake their heads solemnly. ADMINISTRATOR strides to the table and hands GOOBER5000 a small portfolio. GOOBER5000 takes it and leafs through it.

GOOBER5000: A transfer request…?

ADMINISTRATOR: Yes…to Sandwich’s old position as Defense Force leader. Could you see that Shrike gets it, please…?

GOOBER5000 forces a smile and sets the folder down next to him.

GOOBER5000: Of course.

ADMINISTRATOR nods and walks out of the room, the door shutting loudly behind him. GOOBER5000 gives the door a gruesome look and turns to COBALTSTARR.

GOOBER5000: He was sure quick to jump on the position, huh?

COBALTSTARR shrugs silently and gets up to go look at something on a display behind a sleeping forumite. GOOBER5000 shakes his head and turns to look at the folder. We look at it for a few seconds, then fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on March 10, 2005, 07:15:48 pm

MORE! MORE!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on March 10, 2005, 10:53:09 pm

bum bum bum!!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on March 11, 2005, 02:32:51 am

That two-timin' double-faced turd framed me! It's obvious, don't you see?!??!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on March 11, 2005, 01:48:27 pm

sure, sandy... that's what they all say.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on March 11, 2005, 04:50:21 pm

It's good, but I want more explosions.:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on March 16, 2005, 11:48:48 pm

omg omg omg!!!!one11!!1

um, yeah.

er... good stuff you got there.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on March 23, 2005, 01:14:49 pm

SCENE SEVENTY SEVENTY SEVEN. INT. SHRIKE'S OFFICE - DAY.

We open to see SHRIKE sitting patiently at his desk. He is turned to face the door, a chair opposite him, and two beer glasses filled halfway are resting on the desk nearby. The clock ticks slowly on, its soft noise ringing out loudly in the silent, yet brightly lit room. A few seconds pass by, then a knock is heard on the door outside.

SHRIKE: Come.

The door whooshes open, and in steps ADMINISTRATOR. SHRIKE gestures to the seat in front of him. ADMINISTRATOR takes it, and faces SHRIKE, waiting. SHRIKE folds his legs comftorably and stares into his companion.

SHRIKE: I've been waiting for you...

He gestures towards the chilled glasses resting on the table.

SHRIKE: May I tempt you with an alchoholic beverage?

ADMINISTRATOR solemnly shakes his head, but keeps silent. SHRIKE nods and pauses for a few seconds, ponderng this seemingly insignifcant refusal. He turns and reaches behind him, lifting the same folder from earlier off his desk. Resting it on his lap, he looks back at ADMINISTRATOR.

SHRIKE: I understand you want to  fill in for Sandwich's duties...?

ADMINISTRATOR nods and speaks for the first time.

ADMINISTRATOR: That is correct.

SHRIKE nods and rests his elbow on the chair arm, and his head on his knuckles. Gesturing to ADMINISTRATOR, he address him questioningly.

SHRIKE: And what makes you think that I should pick you over my many other qualified choices...?

ADMINISTRATOR:  I believe that my resume there shows me as being the best choice for military duties.

SHRIKE nods, as if conceding to a point. Looking down at the resume, he opens it, and looks up and down its pages.

SHRIKE: Yes...your resume. Let's talk about that...infiltration, sabotage, ship commandeering, ship and fleet command...I fail to see why we would need to teach our peacekeeping force such...extremities.

ADMINISTRATOR: They may need to know them if, perhaps, an enemy fleet was to attack Hard Light Station...but liuckily for us, the enemy fleet is still holding position, correct?

SHRIKE glances up from his reading.

SHRIKE: For the moment, yes...

He returns to the folder, and ADMINISTRATOR nods, as if satisfied. SHRIKE speaks a few moments later, still looking down.

SHRIKE: One more question, before you can have the job...

ADMINISTRATOR: Anything.

SHRIKE looks up, his eyes burning into ADMINISTRATOR for a few tense seconds.

SHRIKE: Can I trust you...?

ADMINISTRATOR doesn't reply, pondering the question in its entirety. He nods slightly.

ADMINISTRATOR: You can depend on me.

SHRIKE nods. A second or two pass, and he stands, ADMINSTRATOR following suite. SHRIKE extends his hand and ADMNISTRATOR clasps it tightly.

SHRIKE: Welcome to the Hard Light Defense Force, commander.

ADMINISTRATOR nods and they shake hands. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on March 23, 2005, 05:52:54 pm

ARRRGGHH!!! Can't anyone tell he's a bad guy? You can't even see his face. He must be evil!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on March 23, 2005, 08:12:58 pm

*breaks out of prison to prove his innocence*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on March 23, 2005, 08:14:10 pm

That's one thing I honestly can't picture someone interviewing someone for the job of security director: "Can I trust you?"
If they say no, then it's obvious you have to get rid of them. But if they say yes, the answer is basically useless.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on March 24, 2005, 06:35:21 am

This IS the HLP....

I can't wait for the big showdown and massive battles. I know I will be there..:D

sweetness...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on March 24, 2005, 08:37:41 am

Quote

Originally posted by Grey Wolf
That's one thing I honestly can't picture someone interviewing someone for the job of security director: "Can I trust you?"
If they say no, then it's obvious you have to get rid of them. But if they say yes, the answer is basically useless.

Hopefully, he'll resolve that seeming illogical bit by having it turn out that Shrike was stringing along this "Administrator" guy from the beginning. *cough cough*


:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on March 24, 2005, 08:11:56 pm

Nah, he will probely just end up saying that he framed Sandwich after he get popular, split HLP and rally his supporters and cause a huge Civil War.


*Wonders if he will join the ADMINISTRATOR or the HLP Admins.:nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on March 26, 2005, 11:42:45 pm

Sorry these are so slow everyone, but I am still working on the movie.

SCENE SEVENTY EIGHT. INT. GENERAL FREESPACE - NIGHT.

We open to see SANDWICH alone at a dirty, semi-deserted bar, drowning his sorrows in a gigantic mug of beer. Two agents in black uniforms are trying to make themselves invisible nearby, yet we can tell they are keeping an eye on him. SANDWICH obviously doesn’t care, and is resting his head on the table, staring tearfully into the cold brew in front of him, the reflections of the room bouncing off the chilled glass. Behind him, a figure opens the entrance door, and steps inside. Until the door closes, he is merely a silhouette, however, he is soon revealed to be KALFIRETH. SANDWICH regards him with a disinterested glance at the reflection, then returns to his distant stare. KALFIRETH moves slowly to the bar and sits down next to SANDWICH. The two soldiers shift slightly but maintain their positions. KALFIRETH motions to the bartender.

KALFIRETH: Orange juice, if you have it.

The bar tender nods and fixes him the drink, setting it down in front of KALFIRETH, who sips it slightly and sets it back down on the counter in front of him. Still staring ahead, he speaks, not looking at SANDWICH.

KALFIRETH: You’re…Sandwich, right?

SANDWICH shows his first sign of interest in his new guest. He gives him a sideways glance.

SANDWICH: That’s right.

KALFIRETH: Funny place for you to be sitting…out here with us vagabonds.

SANDWICH smirks in disgust.

SANDWICH: Well, if you haven’t heard, I’ve taken to murder lately…

KALFIRETH chuckles, which produces a surprised look from SANDWICH, who raises and sits up straight, his head turned to look at KALFIRETH.

SANDWICH: I’m sorry, is something funny?

KALFIRETH: Yep.
SANDWICH: I could use a chuckle – you mind clueing me in?

KALFIRETH: I sort of do.

He raises his glass and drinks another sip, setting it down on the counter. SANDWICH gives him a look of pure venom. KALFIRETH sighs and smiles at his glass.

KALFIRETH: They have good orange juice here. Can’t get it like this anywhere else in the station.

SANDWICH shuffles and glances over his shoulder and looks at the two soldiers, who are deep in conversation. Getting close to KALFIRETH, he spits out his words with an intense anger.

SANDWICH: Look pal, what the **** is your problem…? I got enough **** to deal with without having to listen to you ***** about orange juice!

He jabs his finger at KALFIRETH, who smiles and turns to SANDWICH for the first time.

KALFIRETH: What if I was to tell you that there have been rumors…out on the outer rims…of a new power coming into play…?

SANDWICH: I’d ask you why I should care.

KALFIRETH: Do you know who the greatest military power in this sector is…?

SANDWICH: Hard Light of course.

KALFIRETH: Of course. Now…if someone managed to control Hard Light’s military capabilities…they’d have a lot of muscle, would they not…?

SANDWICH: Look pal, if you’re gonna start some trouble…

KALFIRETH waves his hand and shakes his head.

KALFIRETH: Oh no no no, it’s not me. I’m just a wanderer. No, I came to warn you, and to ask you for help.

SANDWICH: With what…?

KALFIRETH looks around the room to make sure no one’s paying attention. No one is.

KALFIRETH: It’s already begun. That fleet that’s sitting outside is just waiting for the go-ahead. You’ve got a spy on board, and I need someone on the outside to help me stop him before things get ugly…someone like you.

SANDWICH: Why me? You could go to one of the admins and -

KALFIRETH stops him short and begins to speak with greater vigor.

KALFIRETH: Because you’re on the outside. If I go to the admins, the spy might get a hold of the info, and that might jeopardize not only my mission but my insider source in his  operation.

SANDWICH: You have a mole…who?

KALFIRETH: I’ll tell you when we’re in a safer spot…you can either trust me and possibly save Hard Light, or spend the rest of your life rotting in some jail cell with a wife named Big Billy Bob.

SANDWICH looks at his brew, considering. He comes to a decision, and taking a big swig of it, he slams it on the table.

SANDWICH: I’m in.

KALFIRETH: I knew you would be. Now, let’s get past these guards, shall we?

SANDWICH nods and smiles, the two standing up from the counter and turning to face the door. As they near it, the two guards stand in front of them. One holds out a hand.

GUARD #1: I’m sorry sir, I can’t let you –

He gets cut short as KALFIRETH karate chops him in the kink of his neck, knocking him to the floor unconscious. The other guard stares in disbelief and beings to draw his weapon, when SANDWICH grabs him by the face and slams the back of his head against the floor, knocking him out cold. The pair then continue onwards out the door, and we fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on March 26, 2005, 11:53:47 pm

oooooooooo!

And the plot thickens :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on March 27, 2005, 12:16:22 am

:wtf: Does Sandwich not know that Kalfireth is Kalfireth?  Or is there a weird Kalfireth/Thunder dichotomy going on? :confused:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on March 27, 2005, 11:24:05 am

Dichotomy, I think. He's changed his name so nobody knows who he is, I guess. He already appeared and people didn't recognize him then.

Quote

.::TIN CAN::.: Never seen you around here before…tourist?

The PILOT sets his glass down and shakes his head. His back is still turned to us, obscuring his face from his view.

PILOT: I’ve been here once or twice before…

.::TIN CAN::. Looks pleasantly surprised, he extends his hand and the PILOT grasps it. Smiling, .::TIN CAN::. welcomes him.

.::TIN CAN::.: Well then! Welcome back to Hard Light, mister…I’m sorry, I didn’t’ quite catch your name.

The PILOT gives a good shake with his hand and sets it on the table.

PILOT: Kalifreth…my name is Kalfireth.

edit: I just noticed that UT didn't even spell Kalfireth right the whole way through :lol:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on March 27, 2005, 02:39:41 pm

Tis sweetness.

*head explodes*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on March 28, 2005, 04:58:04 am

Three nitpicks:

[list=1]

• I really really dislike beer. It tastes like pee smells. I'm much more likely to be caught with a glass of wine. :)
  
• What's with me and cursing? It's extremely rare that I resort to using "sh*t" to get across how really pissed I am at something; the F word is totally out of place for me. And "kvetch" is so much more richly meaningful than "b*tch" in that connotation. :p
• What Goober said, although I'll let it pass on some sort of yet-to-be-revealed plot twist thingy. Although there's no explaining Kal "asking" if I was Sandwich - he'd more likely say "Sandwich." To which I'd respond, "Yeah - who the heck are you?" Just a thought. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on March 28, 2005, 01:40:01 pm

Maybe Kal underwent some sort of memory wipe when he changed his name? Or maybe he's a robot who is going to pretend to be Thunder...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on March 28, 2005, 04:35:05 pm

And Kalfireth seems to have forgotten he's an admin, too. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on March 28, 2005, 07:14:59 pm

Or else he's just biding his time...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on March 31, 2005, 02:22:46 pm

Maybe they're evil clones! Or pod people...

Still good stuff UT! :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on April 01, 2005, 07:12:07 pm

In light of recent events, I have decided to stop writing the HLP Movie, any sequels, and all further developments will be halted until further notice.

EDIT: Yes, it was an April Fools joke, don't worry Sandwich :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Nuclear1 on April 01, 2005, 07:14:53 pm

Yarr! 'T be a mighty fine joke of the April Fools UT.

Yarr.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on April 02, 2005, 04:52:25 am

*Pulls out a shotgun*

April fools!

*BLAM* *BLAM* *BLAM*

Don't EVER make a jonke like that again!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on April 08, 2005, 12:10:12 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
In light of recent events, I have decided to stop writing the HLP Movie, any sequels, and all further developments will be halted until further notice.

Noooooo! I MUST BE VINDICATORED!!!111

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on April 15, 2005, 09:47:52 pm

Relax :)
Any way that you guys can remove the swear word filter for this thread?
EDIT: Added two lines, please reread after where Kalfireth reveals who sold HLP out. :)

SCENE SEVENTY NINE. INT. MAINTENANCE WALKWAY  – NIGHT.


We open to see a dark, deserted maintenance corridor, suspended high above a large collection of heavy automated machinery. The entire scene is lit from below, and small, hovering repair droids zip back and forth. As steam rises lazily from below, two figures emerge on the walkway. They walk to the center, then stop and turn to one another. They turn out to be KALFIRETH and SANDWICH, engaged in conversation, shouting at the top of their lungs to get their voices heard above the noisy clanging below. An invisible wind blows past them, ruffling their appearances.

SANDWICH: Why here?

KALFIRETH: No bugs!

SANDWICH points furtively at his ear.

SANDWICH: What?

KALFIRETH points around the area with a twirl of his finger and cups his hands to his mouth.

KALFIRETH: No bugs!

SANDWICH nods and looks around, then turns to look at KALFIRETH.

SANDWICH: So what did you want to tell me?

KALFIRETH: You need to listen very carefully…the fate of Hard Light, and quite possibly the galaxy, rests in our hands.

He gestures wildly behind him.

KALFIRETH: That fleet and your arrest did not happen by unfortunate chance alone! There’s a traitor in the Hard Light ranks, and he’s opening the door for a hostile takeover!

SANDWICH ducks to avoid a drunken repair bot, then turns to look at KALFIRETH incredulously.

SANDWICH: What’re you talking about? Shrike would know right away if he had a traitor in the ranks! If you’re talking about the new guy, forget it – Shrike’s been having guards watch him since he joined up!

KALFIRETH: It’s not him!

SANDWICH registers a look of mild surprise.

SANDWICH: Then who?

KALFIRETH ducks to avoid another repair bot. This one travels off and bounces off another. KALFIRETH watches them for an instant, then returns his eyes to SANDWICH.

KALFIRETH: It’s Styxx!

SANDWICH takes a step back in surprise, his face slack jawed.

SANDWICH: Impossible! Styxx was loyal to us even during the first Board War!

KALFIRETH: That’s true, however, it seems that ever since he visited the Outer Rim, he’s had his own visions of conquest! Now he’s amassed a fleet – the very same fleet that’s out there right now!

SANDWICH stays silent, his brow furrowed, deep in thought, processing this startling information.

SANDWICH: So is he the one that framed me?

KALFIRETH: No! It was someone else - another job! I'm not close enough to him to get who it was though!

SANDWICH: So what's your name? And what do you have to gain out of all this?

KALFIRETH: Let’s just say I used to work here! But the name's Kalfireth!

SANDWICH nods and looks around hurriedly, then turns to KALFIRETH once more, his face intent.

SANDWICH: So what do we do?

KALFIRETH: You listen, and do what I say!

SANDWICH nods, and as they start to talk, we fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: neo_hermes on April 15, 2005, 11:41:30 pm

:eek: Styxx!!!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on April 15, 2005, 11:41:46 pm

So it turns out Administrator isn't the bad guy! Da da da dum!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on April 16, 2005, 07:07:25 am

Gah! I can't take it anymore! This is worse than 24! :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on April 16, 2005, 07:58:57 am

No. I bet administrator is the bad guy, and that Kalifreth is there just to throw the suspicion off him and misguide sandwich into fighting a totally wrong war against the HLP admins! It's all a conspiracy! A conspiracy I tell ya!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Darkage on April 16, 2005, 09:06:49 am

Very nice UT!:D

Cough.....me......cough lol:D

/me runs:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on April 16, 2005, 09:38:10 pm

Nah, the real Styxx is dead, and the other one is an evil clone contolled by ("A NAME THAT IS CENSORED,NEVERMORE TO BE SAID AGAIN",SAYING THE "NAME THAT IS CENSORED,NEVERMORE SAID AGAIN", WILL BE PUNISHED,BY HAVING TO SERVE THE "ONE WHOSE NAME IS CENSORED,NEVERMORE TO BE SAID AGAIN",UNTIL YOU DIE):D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on April 17, 2005, 09:52:26 am

Hmmm... I was rather bored last night and was rereading the old movie. I'd forgotten that Thunder and Setekh were listed as MIA in the final confrontation with wEvil and HemroidFrogButt. So that explains the reappearance of Thunder as Kalfireth.

Anyway, yeah. Styxx as the bad guy? I'll believe that one when I see it.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on April 17, 2005, 02:45:37 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Corsair
...HemroidFrogButt....

:wakka: I'd totally forgotten about that guy! :wakka:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Black Wolf on April 17, 2005, 07:08:00 pm

/me knows who administrator is.

No, really! :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on April 17, 2005, 09:32:44 pm

it's Steak in disguise!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on April 18, 2005, 07:36:54 pm

Good stuff! :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on May 10, 2005, 10:35:55 am

Here we go :) Hope my writing is still up to snuff.
EDIT: Made a correction/addition to the previous installment:

Quote

SANDWICH: So what's your name? And what do you have to gain out of all this?

KALFIRETH: Let’s just say I used to work here! But the name's Kalfireth!

SCENE EIGHTY. INT. MACHINA TERRA FORUM – NIGHT.

We open to see a brightly lit office type room, adorned with books on the side and a large computer terminal resting on a desk, behind which sits STYXX, in a large, padded leather chair. In front of him stands COBRA. STYXX slams his drinking glass down on the table and shouts loudly.

STYXX: What do you mean you weren’t able to disable the weapons systems?

COBRA quivers a little, and struggles to remain intelligible.

COBRA: I…the security system…I wasn’t g-given the right t-tools…

STYXX: And you couldn’t think of anything else?

COBRA: N-no…

STYXX: Jesus H. Christ! When our backup gets here they won’t make it past the first barrage!

COBRA: I’m s-sorry…

STYXX: You’re going to go and do it right. Take whatever you need, we need those defenses taken out. Now go.

COBRA bows slightly.

COBRA: T-thank you sir!

He hurriedly rushes out to avoid a second barrage. As he opens the door and exits, STYXX’s SECRETARY holds it open and addresses the brooding STYXX.

SECRETARY: Sir? You have someone here to see you.

STYXX: Who is it?

SECRETARY: He says to tell you he’s a friend of two peoples. You’d know what it means.

STYXX smiles slightly in recognition, and turns to face his secretary with his whole body. He gestures happily towards her.

STYXX: Ahh, please, please, send him in!

The SECRETARY nods and steps out of the room, closing the door behind her. A few seconds later, the door starts to creak open. STYXX smiles warmly.

STYXX: Hello friend. What can I do for you today…?

The figure is now completely in the room, and gently shuts the door behind him. He starts to speak, and his voice is a dead give away as to his identity.

KALFIRETH: Oh…not much. Just wanted to talk about a few things…

We cut to:

SCENE EIGHTY-ONE. INT. FORUM READY ROOM – NIGHT.

The room is dark and silent, completely deserted this late at night. A camera rotates back and forth in one corner of the wall, it’s red light glowing menacingly in the almost pitch black room. Shadows cast by small emergency lights give an eerie glow to the entire scene, as empty armor hangs on the walls like skeletons.
Soon, we begin to notice that, as the camera turns each direction, a shadow moves on it’s opposite side. The shadow darts in and out, weaving behind benches and lockers, always staying out of view. Eventually it gets close enough to the camera for us to realize that it is actually a man…as the camera turns away for the final time, he quickly dashes up to it and hides underneath it, plastered against the wall. As the camera starts to turn back, he slowly reaches up and gently plucks the power cord out of it’s socket, powering the camera down. The figure turns back to the room around him, his face hidden beneath a ninja mask. He stealthily slides over to a locker, now bolted tight with a heavy duty keylock. On it is marked SANDWICH. The figure takes a tool out of his belt and moves it up to the lock. A small torch light flares into being, and he slowly cuts the lock away, causing it to fall free. He catches it before it hits the ground, and gently sets it on top of the locker. Opening it, the contents are revealed. The figure reaches in and grabs a large rifle, several other weapons, and eventually, at the bottom, a Hammer of Justice. Turning it over reveals that a segment has been taken out of the inside. The figure shakes his head and speaks, revealing his identity as SANDWICH.

SANDWICH: What have they done to my baby…?

He quickly pockets the Hammer of Justice, and puts the lock back into place, quickly re welding it. He turns away and looks around the room for a second, then quickly darts to a corner, where several large trunks are resting, minus locks. He opens each one, and sits back.

SANDWICH: Oh baby…

Inside the boxes are contained dozens of weapons. As SANDWICH begins to unload them, stuffing them all into a large sack, we fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on May 10, 2005, 04:35:03 pm

The goodness continues.:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: phreak on May 10, 2005, 04:37:45 pm

dun-dun-dun.....


awesome work yet again :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Jetmech Jr. on May 10, 2005, 05:55:22 pm

:lol: This is great! I'm ashamed that I missed this until now!

You have a very obvious talent at building suspense and intrigue, UT. Wonderful writing :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on May 11, 2005, 02:29:56 am

*ka-chink*

(sound of M16 being loaded)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on May 11, 2005, 07:38:07 am

It's baaaaaaaaack!!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on May 11, 2005, 09:26:53 pm

ah, no, i thought i'd kicked the habit, but then you had to write another fix! dude, keep up the supply!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on May 22, 2005, 10:53:56 pm

Sorry it took so long. I've been having a lot of RL issues lately, and it's been slowing down my work in pretty much everything :)


SCENE EIGHTY TWO. INT. FORUM READY ROOM – DAY.

SHRIKE is standing amidst the now-empty boxes, his hands on his hips and a furious expression contorting his face. NICO is standing next to him, holding a clipboard stacked with red-streaked papers. Behind them are several security guards and detectives, looking through the entire area. SHRIKE turns to NICO, and tries to simultaneously control his rage and his composure.

SHRIKE: How many are missing?

NICO: Um…

NICO semi-casually flips through several sheets  of paper, until he reaches the one on the end.

NICO: (Still reading) By the last count…forty two assault rifles…three light man-portable missile launchers, eighty five small pistols, about three magazines to each of the above listed weapons, two thousand rounds of seven point seven two millimeter ammunition, one thou—

SHRIKE holds up his hand to cut NICO off. Massaging his temples with his thumb and pointer finger, he sighs.

SHRIKE: Enough to arm a small army…who on Hard Light would want that much firepower—

It is now SHRIKE’s turn to be interrupted, as a shout from one of the guards behind him cuts him off.

GUARD: Sir!

SHRIKE looks up and turns around, and he and NICO walk towards the GUARD, who is standing next to SANDWICH’s locker, holding the now mangled lock in his outsretched hand. He shows it to SHRIKE, and points at the locker behind him.

GUARD: I found this on top of this locker sir. I thought it might be of some use.

SHRIKE nods and takes the lock from him.

SHRIKE: Good work private.

GUARD: Sir!

The GUARD salutes and departs, leaving SHRIKE and NICO to contemplate this new event. NICO holds out his hand.
NICO: Shrike…?

SHRIKE hands him the lock. NICO turns it over and over, examining it.

NICO: Cut by a welding torch…a lot of work for a casual thief to go into this one specific locker.

SHRIKE nods, and NICO opens the door to the locker. It bangs against an adjoining door gently. The pair peer inside. SHRIKE looks around quickly, then sits back, now deep in thought.

SHRIKE: A vandalized locker with only one thing missing…

NICO: The Hammer of Justice.

SHRIKE nods again.

SHRIKE: No member would steal a slammer. As soon as they pulled it out, they’d be jumped on…plus, there’s at least five things in here that are worth almost triple.

NICO taps his fingers against the locker.

NICO: You thinking of who I’m thinking of?

SHRIKE: Sandwich…but why?

NICO: Power hungry, obviously.

SHRIKE: No…I know Sandwich, he wouldn’t do this to just gain control. There’s got to be something else…

NICO: I’ll look into it. In the meantime, I have to get down to DF headquarters and get them to put out notices about Sandwich. We can’t have someone like him running around without any checks. He’s too dangerous.

SHRIKE manages a weak smile and nods. NICO salutes and turns, exiting the room, leaving SHRIKE standing alone in front of the locker. Fade to:

SCENE EIGHTY THREE. INT. FORUM HEADQUARTERS – DAY.

We open to see all the admins, minus SHRIKE and GOOBER5000, seated at the table. GOOBER5000 is instead standing in front of it, making a presentation, which is indistinct to us. We focus on STYXX, leaning back in his chair lazily, glancing casually at a small computer screen in front of him. A small window appears on the lower right hand corner of the screen, and starts to flash urgently.

WINDOW: NEW TEXT MESSAGE.

STYXX leans forward and taps the screen. The window enlarges to show the message, which is remarkably short. The FROM box reads COBRA.

WINDOW: Mission complete. Defenses check out OK. Ready for action.

STYXX smiles slightly and closes the window, turning back to the presentation. We fade to:



EDIT: Typo fixes :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: phreak on May 22, 2005, 11:27:41 pm

7.76mm ammo?  what an odd caliber.  7.62 is more realistic.

suspense = killer

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on May 23, 2005, 01:36:33 am

Corrected typo 1/3rd of the way down, a SANDWICH/SHRIKE switcharoo. ;)

Good stuff! Better than Lucas, for sure. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on May 29, 2005, 01:34:32 pm

Here you go :) Singh's thing inspired me to write more :D
 Hope you all like.

SCENE EIGHTY-FOUR. EXT. SPACE – DAY.

We open to an asteroid field. Hundreds of colossal rocks, some kilometers in diameter, hurl past us, spinning wildly amidst each other. The star filled sky hangs placidly above, oblivious to the turmoil just within it’s reach. Eventually, a smaller rock rises into our view. We watch it for a few seconds, realizing that it is something different. As it slowly rotates over, an anomaly manifests itself on it’s pockmarked and uneven sides. The shadow slowly pulls away, revealing a small metallic object. We zoom in closer, and soon the object’s identity is confirmed as a small spaceship. As the ship fully manifests itself in our view, we cut to:

SCENE EIGHTY-FIVE. INT. KRACKERS87’S COCKPIT – DAY.

Inside the small vessel is an even smaller cockpit, bristling with equipment. Outside is the rocky landscape of the asteroid, the sky hurling about above it. KRACKERS87 sits firmly inside, strapped down by a seven point harness. He struggles to move around the tiny area. He glances up out of the cockpit, then looks down at his instrument panel. Flipping a few switches, he puts a hand to the side of his head. We cut to:

SCENE EIGHTY-SIX. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – DAY.

The once-filled bridge is now almost deserted, save for a few emergency personnel manning the mission-critical stations. We pan over to the communications area, where a CREWMEMBER is sitting, reading a magazine. Except for the omnipresent hum of the ship’s machinery, all is silent, until a loud crackle breaks through the silence, as KRACKERS87 radios in. However, his transmission is so garbled his nigh-impossible to comprehend.

KRACKERS87: Thi….out…..n…..er….

The CREWMEMBER, not looking up from his magazine, leans forward, extending an arm, and depresses a button on the panel.

CREWMEMBER: This is the Grandeur to unknown transmitter. Please adjust your frequency, you’re too garbled, over.

A few seconds pass. KRACKERS87 comes through again, still distorted, but at least understandable now.

KRACKERS87: This is Lookout Five. Can you hear me now? Over.

CREWMEMBER: Affirmative, over.

KRACKERS87: Good! No activity to –

He is suddenly cut off by another voice, whom we recognize as KARAJORMA.
KARAJORMA: This is Lookout Two, no activity to report, over.

KRACKERS87: Hey! I was using this channel!

KARAJORMA: You weren’t saying anything important, so I figured I should cut in.

KRACKERS87: I was about to report in, thank you very much!

KARAJORMA: Like I was saying.

KRACKERS87: *******.

KARAJORMA: Cocksucker.

There is a small pause. The CREWMEMBER, who had finally removed his gaze from the magazine, was now staring at the console with a puzzled expression. He leans forward again to speak, but is suddenly cut off by KRACKERS87.

KRACKERS87: So how’s the girlfriend?

KARAJORMA: Oh, she’s ok. Wants to move to Game Warden, of all places.

KRACKERS87: (Laughs) Why?

KARAJORMA: “For the view,” she says. Yea, like I’d like to spend all day staring at some stupid planet. I’m telling you, deep space is where it’s at. You can’t beat the stars.

KRACKERS87: Yea, I hear that. By the way, have you heard anything from Gortef? I need to ask him something when I get back.

KARAJORMA: Well, I –

He is suddenly cut off by the CREWMEMBER, who had been staring at his console this entire time, his mouth open in disbelief. He suddenly regains his composure and depresses the button once again.

CREWMEMBER: (Vehemently) Excuse me, gentlemen, but this frequency is for Defense Force transmissions only. If you want to have a personal conversation, please have it another frequency, over.

KARAJORMA: Sorry sir. Over.

KRACKERS87: Sorry sir, we got a li –

He suddenly stops. The CREWMEMBER raises an eyebrow.

CREWMEMBER: Lookout Five, are you there? Over.

KRACKERS87: We have a problem.

Cut to:

SCENE EIGHTY-SEVEN. INT. KRACKERS87’S COCKPIT – DAY.

KRACKERS87 is staring wide-eyed out of the cockpit. Above his tiny asteroid, a colossal ship is moving slowly into view over the horizon. KRACKRES87 is frantically throwing switches, and as his cockpit dims, all that is left lit is the emergency consoles and his face, wide eyed with both fear and surprise.

KRACKERS87: We have movement, I repeat, we have movement. We’ve got a ship, large, destroyer, no, battlecruiser class, moving in fast, over!

CREWMEMBER: Acknowledged Lookout Two. Can anyone else confirm?

KARAJORMA: Negative on that battlecruiser, but I have multiple ship movements, ranging from cruiser to carrier class, over!

CREWMEMBER: Lookouts One, Three and Four, can you confirm?

Lookout One: Negative, no movement on this side, over.

Lookout Three: Affirmative, I have movement, over.

Lookout Four: No movement here, over.

CREWMEMBER: Affirmative, we are alerting Hard Light. Stand by Lookouts, and stay hidden, Grandeur out.

Cut to:

SCENE EIGHTY-EIGHT. INT. FORUM HEADQUARTERS – DAY.

All of the admins, which include GOOBER5000, SHRIKE, STYXX, WINDRUNNER, MAEGLAMOR, COBALTSTARR, and ADMINISTRATOR, are now seated around the table. In the middle is a large holographic display, showing each of the ships of the opposing fleet moving. GOOBER5000 is narrating.

GOOBER5000: We have confirmed reports of at least half of the enemy fleet moving, and we have – switch to infrared…

The holographic display shifts to the familiar red/yellow/blue colors of infrared vision.

GOOBER5000: Reactor blooms in seventy five percent of the remaining ships.
SHRIKE: Where are they heading?

GOOBER5000: Well, it looks like about twenty five percent of the ships that are moving have jumped into subspace, and we have lost them from sensors. However, the other seventy five percent – that’s about three hundred ships – have begun moving towards Hard Light.

MAEGLAMOR: My God…

GOOBER5000: It doesn’t end there. News of this has spread through leaks, and we have had several incidents throughout the past five days. About three threads have been locked, and we have a political topic that’s bordering on a full-fledged flame war right now.

SHRIKE: Our options?

GOOBER5000: We must, of course, deploy our own fleet to strategic positions around the station. As for the flame wars…

He gestures towards ADMINISTRATOR.

GOOBER5000: Administrator assures me that his Defense Force is well on hand to keep them under control.

SHRIKE: (Nods) Deploy the fleet. Windrunner.

WINDRUNNER: Yes sir?

SHRIKE: Start laying some quilts on this fire, get out on all the channels you can.

WINDRUNNER: Will do.

SHRIKE: Cobaltstarr. I want you to start training as many pilots as you can. Styxx, get down on the forum floor and start showing the administration as a force to be reckoned with. Gobber5000, I want you to continue monitoring the situation. Everyone clear?

As a chorus of acknowledgements go up, SHRIKE dismisses the meeting, and we fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on May 29, 2005, 09:01:28 pm

the HLP fleet will fight Derek Smart's fleet for 14 years and then they'll join forces to fight off the Interplay lawyer fleet.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on May 29, 2005, 10:19:30 pm

now there's a prediction for you.

fleet's moving out eh? *heads for ready room*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on May 30, 2005, 09:18:34 am

ALL HANDS TO BATTLESTATIONS!!!

*Walks out of the bunk with so much guns and ammo that he eventually gets chrushed by their weight*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on May 30, 2005, 03:28:09 pm

Quote

Originally posted by TrashMan
ALL HANDS TO BALLTESTATIONS!!!

:lol:

*resists the urge to comment*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on May 30, 2005, 03:58:51 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Goober5000
:lol:

*resists the urge to comment*

:wtf:

*looks*

...... :wtf:

*looks again*


.................. :wtf:


*looks real close*


:lol: :wakka: :wakka: :lol:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on May 30, 2005, 05:21:53 pm

*Trys to fight the urge to flee to Gamewarden.....Losing that fight quickly!:nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on May 31, 2005, 03:59:03 am

OK - who messed with my post?

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on June 01, 2005, 02:40:35 pm

What you originally posted is preserved for all eternity as a quote in Goob's post, so fret not. :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on June 05, 2005, 01:47:56 am

Speaking of preserved, someone should preserve this stuff :)

And what the hell are you guys talking about, anyway?
Hope you guys like, and it's not too cliche :)

SCENE EIGHTY-NINE. INT. SHRIKE’S QUARTERS – DAY.

We open to see SHRIKE, laying in his bed alone. His room is brightly lit, and he seems to be enjoying the large book spread across his lap. A small tower of tomato juice cans is piled on the nightstand next to him, another resting on his stomach. He takes a sip, then sets it back down again. The TV is playing softly in the background.
Suddenly, his quiet sanctuary is immediately destroyed by the obnoxious beeping coming from his comm. Link. Sighing slightly, he sets his drink down and stands up. When he reaches it, he tosses his book on the table and depresses a button.

SHRIKE: Shrike here…

BLACK WOLF’s voice, slightly distorted from the radio, comes through.

BLACK WOLF: Sir, it’s BLACK WOLF. STYXX is pinned down in General Freespace, and requests your immediate assistance.

SHRIKE: Can’t anyone else handle it?

BLACK WOLF: Negative sir, he specifically asked for you. Looks like another Freespace Three thread went awry and he’s taking heavy fire.

SHRIKE: Alright…I’ll be down in a minute.

SHRIKE releases the button, and turns around, starting for the door. Grabbing a tactical vest off the back of a nearby chair, he reaches the door and swiftly picks up a Hammer of Justice off of a nearby table. The door whooshes shut behind him, and we cut to:

SCENE NINETY. INT. GENERAL FREESPACE – DAY.

The forum is in total and complete chaos. Bullets are whizzing through the air, and forum members are scrambling for whatever cover they can find. We pan to find STYXX and a small contingent of Defense Force members, pinned down behind the bar. Many of them are wounded or dead, and the few surviving members are concentrating on simply surviving. As bullets impact all around them, they send glass shards from the bottles raining down on their heads. STYXX is frantically treating to a wounded comrade, until a sudden burst of gunfire catches him in the shoulder. Screaming out loud, he draws an enormous pistol and, leaping back from the front bar table, he lets loose a hail of bullets through it. One of the rounds catches an enemy in the leg, sending him reeling to the ground, his gun tracing a semi-circle of bullets into the air. One of the soldiers turns to STYXX, screaming out his question in adrenaline-fueled fear.

Soldier: Sir! Where’s that backup?

As if to answer his question, the front door to the forum bursts open, and in steps SHRIKE, a small legion of Defense Force troops in tow. Pointing his arm at the enemy troops, SHRIKE lets it drop, and the force opens fire. Enemies are cut down left and right, yet still more manage to take shelter behind a myriad of forum objects, and return fire. SHRIKE ignites his Hammer of Justice, raising it high over his head.

SHRIKE: Charge!

SHRIKE takes off, his Defense Force members in tow behind him. As they rush forwards, STYXX yells to his comrades, ushering them forward. The enemy, unable to cope with the combined charge, is quickly overrun. The two forces engage each other in close combat, SHRIKE and STYXX leaping into the fray. STYXX’s wounded arm hangs loose at his side as he charges into battle with only his pistol. The first flamer he sees, he lets loose with his pistol, clubbing him over the head, sending him into a sideways spin to the floor. Finishing him off with a round to the head, he spies his next target. His next opponent tries to club him over the head with his rifle butt, whereupon STYXX narrowly dodges it, shoving his pistol barrel in the enemy’s stomach. He fires, the forumite slumping to the floor, dead. SHRIKE meanwhile is letting fly with his Hammer of Justice. With mighty swings, he clears several forumites at a time from his path. As one tries to cut him down with automatic gunfire, SHRIKE pulls his Hammer up in front of him, skillfully deflecting the bullets in several directions. One catches the forumite in the stomach, doubling him over. SHRIKE lets a giant back swing go, sending his enemy into the air, landing him several feet away. Suddenly, STYXX comes into view. SHRIKE rushes to him.

SHRIKE: Heard you needed some help!

STYXX quickly dispatches an enemy, then turns to SHRIKE.

STYXX: You got here just in time!

SHRIKE: (Grins) We’ll help you guys finish up!

STYXX: (Smiles) We’d be much obliged!

The two slam up against one another, back to back, SHRIKE wielding his mighty hammer with a skillful determination, STYXX dispatching foes left and right. SHRIKE begins to move off, fighting off several opponents at once. STYXX turns to watch him go, and pauses. Smiling slightly, he raises his pistol towards his former friend.

STYXX: Shrike!

SHRIKE turns towards him. When he sees the pistol, his face becomes confused, his mouth dropping open.

STYXX: (Shrugs) Sorry.

STYXX fires a single round into SHRIKE’s chest. He touches the wound, still very much in shock at the blood creeping down his battle-worn hands. STYXX begins to approach him, firing shot after shot into him. SHRIKE reels backwards with each shot, still standing. He stumbles backwards a few more feet, and just as STYXX is closing in for the kill, an opposing forumite slams into STYXX, throwing him off for just a second. STYXX is furious, and grabs the forumite around the neck, snapping it like a twig. As he returns his gaze to where he last left SHRIKE, he finds that he has disappeared. Running to SHRIKE’s former location, he looks around frantically. Something on the floor catches his eye, and he stoops to pick it up. As he stands, we see he is holding SHRIKE’s Hammer of Justice now dormant Hammer of Justice in his hand. As he looks around, we cut to:

SCENE NINETY-ONE. INT. GENERAL FREESPACE MAINTENANCE PASSAGES – DAY.

We find SHRIKE, stumbling blindly through the darkened corridors. His breathing is the only noise in this silent hallway, save the ever ongoing hum of the machinery. He stops to rest on a railing, and looks at his wounds, which are now bleeding profusely. Slumping to his knees, his breathing grows raspier and heavier. Just as he is about to lose consciousness, a robed figure approaches him out of the shadows. He reaches towards him, and we cut to black.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on June 05, 2005, 08:23:50 am

Uuuuuu..... I like it! I like it!

UT, you're a genius! MORE!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on June 09, 2005, 04:22:56 pm

Oooh... :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Setekh on June 09, 2005, 06:07:05 pm

How mysterious... treachery, I say! Treachery! :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on June 09, 2005, 10:04:28 pm

I think my writing's been off lately, what do you guys think?

Sorry this is short, I wanted to add more but I have to go (sorry if the formatting is messed up, notepad hates me).

SCENE NINETY-TWO. INT. HARD LIGHT - DAY.

Fade from black. We are once again in the main Hard Light forum, now jam-packed with thousands upon thousands of berieving forum members. GOOBER5000 is talking indistinctly i nthe background, his voice echoing across the chasm. We pan across the faces of the crowd, seeing several familiars. NICO and GORTEF stand stoicly side by side, NICO dressed in his Defense Force uniform. Their expressions are lifeless as they cling to their facade' of unfeeling mourning. We pass across several other forum members, including TIARA and THE CELESTIAL ONE, both of whom are holding each other, sitting silently facing away from the front of the room. THE CELESTIAL ONE silently has his arm around his companion, who is crying gently at his side. Moving further towards the front of the
room, more faces lance out at us from the crowd. KARAJORMA, INQUISITOR, RAA. All are either deathly silent or on the brink of tears. We come to the front of the room, where the teeming masses halt in an unnaturally solid and straight line. Of the ones who are still able to control themselves, their gaze is directed upwards, at a balcony extending from the wall. We cut to:

SCENE NINETY-THREE. INT. HARD LIGHT BALCONY - DAY.

Sitting in the balcony, clothed in black robes, sits what remains of
the Hard Light administration. GOOBER5000, STYXX, WINDRUNNER,
MAEGLAMOR, COBALTSTARR, and ADMINISTRATOR are all present.
ADMINISTRATOR is dressed in a darker shade of cloak to accomodate the occasion. We find GOOBER5000 just leaving the stand at the front of the balcony. GOOBER5000: He was not only an incredible man...he was an incredible friend. He turns and leaves the stand, returning to his seat, where he buries his face in one of his hands. STYXX turns to look at him for a brief moment, then rises and takes to the podium himself. He shuffles some documents and palces them on the side of the desk.

STYXX: (Feigning sadness) Shrike...words can not describe the loss that burns in our souls this day. I do not believe that anything I can say can properly express what I know we are all feeling...so I will be brief.

He pauses, looks down and then up again, a look of fierce determination on his face. Shaking his fist with a defiance that seems both out of and in tune with the general feeling of the assembaly, he powers
through the remaining portion of his speech.

STYXX: So let me promise you this, fellow members. Today I stand before you not as an administrator, but as one of you. I stand as a mere man, a mere man who is so disgusted with this tragedy that he vows to do all he can to bring the offenders to justice. And by the power invested in me by the administration of this forum, I shall do so!

He pauses once more and looks around. Now, all of the eyes in the room are upon him, staring at him questioningly for an answer, for a hope.

STYXX looks back and forth, staring deep into each of their eyes. He stands up straight and proud.

STYXX: And with this promise, we shall work towards a better, and more secure future! Insults, forum disputes, and flame wars such as these, shall now be a thing of the past!

The audience is captive. They stir only slightly at these words. Glimmers of hope shine tentatively in their eyes.

STYXX: As the next senior ranking member in the administration, I will personally sign the order for the Hard Light Defense Force to begin actively patrolling all topics and threads for any signs of discontent, and if any is found...

He pauses. His audience waits expentantly.

STYXX: It will be quashed in the name of peace!

The audience begins a slow clap. As it quickens and eventually grows into a dull roar, we quick fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on June 09, 2005, 10:33:27 pm

I shall create a grand army of the Republic, to meet the increasing threat of the Separatists! :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on June 09, 2005, 11:57:48 pm

uh-oh....looks like a dictatorship in the formation :eek:

Very, very good writing UT, as always :yes:






Can I be in it too? :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on June 10, 2005, 07:40:50 am

Viva la Resistance!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on June 10, 2005, 10:25:13 am

:drevil:  New World Order!:p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on June 11, 2005, 12:55:54 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Corsair
I shall create a grand army of the Republic, to meet the increasing threat of the Separatists! :D

Exactly my thoughts. :D

...not sure if that's a GOOD thing, mind you, but... :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on June 11, 2005, 01:05:14 pm

I'm going to break my usual "not posting in this thread unless I have a new addition" to reply to that comment :p I'd like everyone to know that I had planned this BEFORE I heard of the connecting storyline between Episodes II and IV, and before I'd seen Star Wars III. Which means that even though it may seem similar, A) I made it up with no input from Star Wars, and B) it'll get different :p

My mind is scrambled, so if that's not intelligble, I meant this: I did not copy the story off of Star Wars, I made it up all on my own wihtout ever hearing of the Star Wars III storyline.

And Singh, you're already in it, you're a pilot in one of the previous scenes :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on June 11, 2005, 01:13:18 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target

And Singh, you're already in it, you're a pilot in one of the previous scenes :p

Really? Didn't see that at all :p

*goes off to search

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on June 12, 2005, 12:31:29 am

I honestly don't know what's wrong with me, I'm writing but it's not coming out right, and I'm making some really dumbass mistakes :sigh:
Oh well, did it turn out ok anyway?

SCENE NINETY-FOUR. INT. FORUM ARCHIVES - DAY.

Blackness. The humming machines and the beeping of monitoring equipment can be heard softly in the background, seeming as if it was muffled by something, being projected through several layers of thick cloth. We become accustomed to the silence, then hear a pained moaning in the background. Then a chuckle.

SANDWICH: Welcome to the world of the living.

We cut from black. We are hanging inside a small room, crowded with computers and equipment. On the central table lies SHRIKE, wires and hoses protruding from his damaged flesh. Computers hum in the background, and on the border of the shadows, we see a brooding KALFIRETH, watching keenly over the entire scene. SANDWICH is standing over him, smirking slightly. SHRIKE moans once more, and SANDWICH leans over, rapping SHRIKE's forhead with a nuckle.

SANDWICH: Oh come off it. You've had worse.

SHRIKE slowly opens his eyes and laboriously turns to look at SANDWICH.

SHRIKE: Dick...

SANDWICH frowns and turns to KALFIRETH behind him. KALFIRETH smiles.

KALFIRETH: Pay up.

SANDWICH reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small card. Handing it to KALFIRETH, he shakes his head and pauses.

SANDWICH: Everyone always says "what happened".

KALFIRETH: Apparantly not him. A bet's a bet, pay up.

SANDWICH sighs and hands him the card. Turning back to SHRIKE, he looks exasperated, and waves his arm as if to add meaning to his words.

SANDWICH: You see what you just did? You just lost me twenty.

SHRIKE smirks and looks around him.

SHRIKE: So...what did happen...

SANDWICH turns to look at KALFIRETH, who shakes his head, smiling. SANDWICH snaps his fingers and with a dissapointed expression on his face, turns back to face SHRIKE.

SANDWICH: Well...look for yourself.

He gestures towards the computer screens, where STYXX still stands, elaborating further on his plans. SHRIKE, turning to look, shakes his head.

SHRIKE: Bastard...

SANDWICH smiles gently. He addresses the back of SHRIKE's head.

SANDWICH: After he shot you, Kalfireth...

He gestures behind him at his companion.

SANDWICH: Found you and brought you here.

SHRIKE turns to look at SANDWICH.

SHRIKE: Where...is here?

SANDWICH: We're in the forum archives. Equipment's a little old, but it works.

He smiles. Looking around again, he stands up and claps his hands together.

SANDWICH: Well, you should be getting your rest...we're going to leave you alone for a bit. I don't know about you, but I'm starving.

SANDWICH turns and starts towards the door.

SHRIKE: Sandwich...

SANDWICH stops and turns, putting his hands on his hips.

SHRIKE: Shouldn't you be in jail...?

SANDWICH smiles and shrugs.

SANDWICH: What can I say? I'm naughty like that.

The pair smile at each other, and SANDWICH exits through the door, KALFIRETH in tow. The door whooshes shut behind them, and SHRIKE returns his gaze to the screens. He watches them with a blank, unfeeling expression, his eyes staring listlessly at the travesty unfolding before him. We fade to:

SCENE NINETY-FIVE. INT. MACHINA TERRA FORUM - DAY.

We see STYXX addressing a small group of forum members. Of them, LYNX, COBRA, KALFIRETH, and JOELOE are present. A tray of shot glasses is in front of them. JOELOE and COBRA have several drained glasses resting askew in front of them, JOELOE more so. LYNX has a single half finished cup, and KALFIRETH's immediate vicinity is alchohol free. STYXX is sitting in his chair, his palms together on the desk.

STYXX: Well, my friends...

He pauses. Smiling, he reaches forward and takes a shot glass from the tray. Raising it, he tilts it just a tad and grins.

STYXX: Good job!

He downs the drink in one gulp, slamming it down on the table and exhaling sharply. The entire group smiles and takes a glass, KALFIRETH graciously refusing one. JOELOE reaches forward and snatches a glass off the tray. Shooting his arm high into the air, he laughs joyously.

JOELOE: Good job we really got them good job all!

He leans forward and chugs the entire glass, spilling most of it on himself and on the table. He slams it down and reaches forward, about to grab another one before COBRA, who has already finished his previous drink, snatches it out from under him. He chugs it, slightly less messily than JOELOE, then tosses it carelessly on the table. LYNX is still sipping on his. STYXX leans back in his chair.

STYXX: However...

The group stops and turns to look at him. COBRA's jaw droops slightly.

STYXX: There are still a few matters to take care of...

Leaning forward, he turns to LYNX.

STYXX: Such as the matter of the body. The fake one we put in the casket will keep the rest of the forum off of our backs, but until we have the real thing, we can not be sure of the success of our mission.

LYNX: Sir, we are searching high and low for it - all very low-key of course, using your private guards. However, due to our as of now limited numbers, the search is progressing slowly.

COBRA: Can I help? I can make my own search party too, we could team up.

STYXX shakes his hand at COBRA.

STYXX: How very kind of you Cobra, but fortunately for us your assistance is not required.

COBRA smiles and nods. He thinks over this for a few seconds, then suddenly his smile turns to a frown. STYXX, whom was watching him the whole time, smiles at this realization and turns to LYNX once more.

STYXX: Very well...and the Battlecruiser fleet?

LYNX: They will be in position within fourty eight hours.

STYXX: Excellent...

He turns to KALFIRETH.

STYXX: And our military?

KALFIRETH: Administrator has informed me that the new training procedures you requested are being put into effect.

STYXX: Good...very good...

JOELOE reaches for another glass. STYXX turns to him.

STYXX: I think that's quite enough for you, JoeLoe.

JOELOE sheepishly looks at him.

JOELOE: But I thought I could get anything I wanted did you lie to me?

STYXX: No...but I need to make sure that our alliance with the noobs will prove fruitful when the time arrives. You and Cobra are my inner link, and before you get any more intoxicated, I need to know if your forces are ready.

JOELOE stairs at STYXX blankly for a few seconds, then continues after the shot glass. STYXX shakes his head and turns to COBRA.

STYXX: Cobra...?

COBRA: Don't worry sir, the noobs have begun registering at an increased pace. Our numbers are multiplying exponentially.

STYXX: Good...better than good, even. Excellent...

He pauses and looks down, contemplating. After awhile, he looks up again.

STYXX: Is there any more business that must be discussed?

He looks to each of the members around him. When no answer is given, he stands. The others, with the exception of JOELOE, follow suit.

STYXX: Very well. Gentlemen, it has been...

He looks at JOELOE, who is face down on the table, a puddle of drool forming underneath him.

STYXX: Mostly a pleasure...but I am afraid duty calls. Please return to your work, and report back to me if anything warrants it.

He walks to the door and opens it. Gesturing outside with a finger, he points at JOELOE. As two Defense Guards, dressed in black, enter the room and begin to drag JOELOE away, the assembly begins to file out. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on June 12, 2005, 01:42:03 am

Other than me handing Kal the same credit chip twice, I don't see no mistakes.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on June 12, 2005, 01:51:56 am

You definately still got it UT :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Martinus on June 12, 2005, 04:39:14 am

Quote

Originally posted by Sandwich
Other than me handing Kal the same credit chip twice, I don't see no mistakes.

[color=66ff00]Bah, you're just annoyed that you lost the bet.

UT, if you don't stop second guessing your great writing I'm going to ban you. ;)
Spelling mistakes and the like as nowhere near as important considerations as content which this story has in bundles.
[/color]

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: EtherShock on June 12, 2005, 12:02:44 pm

Wow, this is great. :yes:  I can't believe I didn't notice it for so long.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on June 12, 2005, 03:44:41 pm

Alliance with the n00bs... :lol:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on June 12, 2005, 03:53:41 pm

Still sounds good to me.:yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on June 12, 2005, 04:54:59 pm

*Join the dork side!*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Fineus on June 12, 2005, 05:08:25 pm

I can't believe I've missed so much of this - it looks like I've some reading to do. Looks good though, from the section I glanced at! :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Jetmech Jr. on June 13, 2005, 02:01:58 am

Wow, this is such a good read.

*wonders who he has to kill to get a cameo in a later iteration :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on June 13, 2005, 11:00:08 pm

omg. omg. styxx _shot_ shrike? omgomgomg!!!!!

i'm speechless. i can't think of a single thing to say.

except 'good, it's very good so don't stop and no worries about the spelling mistakes or whatever, we are reading a very very excellently wonderfully fantastic script not an assignment'.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Ghostavo on June 14, 2005, 07:42:42 am

I want to be a n00b too!!! :(

:nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on June 15, 2005, 03:50:38 pm

:lol: I started to laugh when I read about JoeLoe and his drinking habits...

Keep up the good work UT :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: kv1at3485 on June 16, 2005, 02:11:37 am

Where's FRED?

'Missions' and 'campaigns' should be propaganda.  (Badly designed, un-beta-tested missions and campaigns being 'bad' propaganda, dulling the senses and wits of the masses making them easier to control!)

(Then you can have the underground fighting back with 'good' propaganda, and subverting the 'bad' by having rereleasing 'corrected' versions of the 'bad'.)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Jetmech Jr. on June 16, 2005, 02:15:21 am

Quote

Originally posted by Ghostavo
I want to be a n00b too!!! :(

:nervous:

You are, in the story. It looks like you're the Co-n00b Leader.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Grey Wolf on June 16, 2005, 01:40:06 pm

I'm a grizzled old veteran, and therefore cooler.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on July 04, 2005, 12:47:14 am

Maeg, are you still gonna ban me if I complain about how ****ty my writing is? :D

Happy 4th, Americans! Sorry it took sooo long - real life concernts.

SCENE NINETY-SIX. INT. FORUM ARCHIVES - DAY.

We are once again in the refugee’s hidden sanctuary. SHRIKE is now walking about, albeit his coat is open, revealing several bandages lashed across his chest. SANDWICH is in the background, working silently on a terminal nearby.  The constant humming of equipment is only broken by the tapping of keyboards and clicks of mice. SHRIKE is reading a book, resting it on his former bed. Suddenly, the door slams open, prompting both SHRIKE and SANDWICH to draw their weapons.

KALFIRETH: (Out of sight) Don’t shoot, it’s me.

The weapons are powered down and holstered. KALFIRETH soon enters, hands in the air, one holding a case of orange juice, and the other a brown paper bag.

KALFIRETH: Your meal is served, gentlemen.

KALFIRETH places the parcels on the table.

KALFIRETH: Help yourselves.

SHRIKE takes an orange juice cup and out of the paper bag, a salad tin. SANDWICH does the same, greeting his meal with a grimace. He turns to KALFIRETH to voice his opinions on the matter.

SANDWICH: What is this ****?

KALFIRETH: Orange juice and…it looks like you got the Caesar salad.

SANDWICH: (Grimaces) Ever since we agreed that you should do the shopping, I’ve been turning into a goat. Can’t you buy us something decent?

KALFIRETH: This is healthy for you. You’re decreased activity makes it ideal that you keep a healthy diet…and I just plain like to see you suffer.

SANDWICH gives him a look and turns back to his food, grimacing with each bite. KALFIRETH turns back to SHRIKE, who seems to be downing his meal with no trouble.

KALFIRETH: Well at least someone appreciates good meals.

SHRIKE grunts and looks up from his meal, his fork paused halfway from his plate to his mouth.

SHRIKE: Did you find anything out…?

KALFIRETH nods and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folder, handing it to SHRIKE, who sets his meal down and takes it. Leafing through it, his expression is an odd one. He turns to KALFIRETH with a quizzical look in his eye.

SHRIKE: What is this?

KALFIRETH: The new training program for the Hard Light Defense Force.

SHRIKE’s quickly looks down at the folder again, and leafs through a few more pages. He gives KALFIRETH a worried look, then starts to read off from the document.

SHRIKE: Advanced battle tactics, invasion tactics…”behavioral modification”? What the hell is going on?

KALFIRETH: It looks like your friend Styxx has been implementing some extra curricular activities for our military.

SANDWICH coughs and hacks on a crouton, hurriedly grabbing a napkin and spitting it into it. He looks up at his companions, who have turned to face him with incredulous looks.

SANDWICH: (Sighs) Hand me the file…

SHRIKE does so and SANDWICH takes it, and begins to leaf through it. He tosses it on the table and leans back in his chair.

SANDWICH: Ouch.

SHRIKE: (Nods) Yep. At this rate, he’ll have the entire forum turned into his personal army in a matter of weeks.

KALFIRETH: So what are we going to do…?

SANDWICH leans forward and folds his hands on the table. He sighs thoughtfully.

SANDWICH: Well I could always use my old contacts in the old guard. I have some people in place who are still loyal to me.

SHRIKE: Like who?

SANDWICH: Well, off the top of my head…Nico, Gortef…Lightspeed…Carl’s always liked me, I give him the best treats. We could use them to get to others before Styxx does.

KALFIRETH: Sounds like a plan…but what about the other admins?

SHRIKE: Since we have no proof to the contrary, we have to assume that they are hostile to Hard Light Productions.

SANDWICH nods.

SANDWICH: I’ll get some men to check them out, see who’s legit and who’s not.

SHRIKE: Right...I’ll start monitoring the digital arena to see what I can pick up.

KALFIRETH gets up to leave.

KALFIRETH: I’m going up to see if there’s any news on the street…I’ll also start to look for recruits.

SHRIKE nods.

SHRIKE: Good luck.

KALFIRETH turns to leave. He opens the door, and is about to walk out. SANDWICH calls to him, causing him to stop and turn, just in time to dodge a flying salad tray.

SANDWICH: Next time, get me something with meat!

KALFIRETH dashes out of the room, laughing joyously, the door shutting behind him, and we cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on July 04, 2005, 10:18:37 am

And the rebellion begins. :cool:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on July 04, 2005, 03:18:52 pm

*....likes salads......*



*.....likes meat, too.... *

:p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: InfernoGod on July 05, 2005, 08:34:46 pm

wow. I finally read this entire thing, and my eyes hurt.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: kv1at3485 on July 07, 2005, 05:51:41 pm

Reminds me of 2010, the movie...

Something like: "With the last president, we didn't lunch.  We grazed..."

lol

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on July 08, 2005, 12:52:37 am

Are those last two comments critisisms or praise? :p

And all the personalities are based off of your forum personas. As I have never met you in real life, I wouldn't know what to put, now would I? :)

SCENE NINETY-SEVEN. INT. NICO’S QUARTERS – DAY.

This room is much smaller than the administrator’s rooms we have become accustomed to. A small bed rests in a corner, and a television rests atop a night table nearby, next to a phone in the same location. A mini kitchen and fold-out table covered in discarded beer cans completes the room. We find NICO, beer can in hand, drained of all his senses and in a drunken stupor. The remote sits lightly in his hand, poised to fall to the floor. A trail of drool runs from his mouth, and cartoons are on the TV. The phone begins to ring. NICO takes his eyes off the screen for a few seconds to glance at it, then turns back. Eventually the phone ceases ringing, yet a few seconds later, it begins again. NICO grunts and hauls himself up and lifts the receiver to his ear.

NICO: (Drunk) This is….is….um…

SANDWICH: Nico. Your name is Nico. Formerly venom2506, you name-changing drunk.

NICO: (Smiles stupidly) That’s it….

SANDWICH: Do you know who this is?

NICO: Shirley Temple…?

SANDWICH: (Sighs) This is Sandwich.

NICO coughs a little at this and looks surprised, in his own, stupefied away. He turns to look at the beer cans on the table for a few seconds.

NICO: When do I get laid…?

SANDWICH: This isn’t a hallucination buddy. I’m still here. So is Shrike. I hooked us up with a secure line, they—

SANDWICH pauses, listening. NICO is silent, his eyes wide in shock, the drool running unattended from the corner of his mouth.

SANDWICH: But you can’t understand a word of that. Get sober ASAP. You will receive a phone call tomorrow.

The phone hangs up from SANDWICH’s end. NICO is in shock, his hands are shaking. He drops the phone, and it clatters to the floor. Cut to:

SCENE NINETY-EIGHT. INT. GRANDEUR – LIGHTSPEED’s CABIN – NIGHT.

LIGHTSPEED is busy working quietly on some paperwork in his silent cabin. Just a little bit smaller than an administrator’s room, it is decked out in an elegant wooden finish. A cheerful beeping starts up. LIGHTSPEED depresses the button on his comm. link without ever looking up from his work.

LIGHTSPEED: Lightspeed.

The beeping continues. LIGHTSPEED searches his uniform pockets, and eventually pulls out a personal communicator. He depresses a button on it.

LIGHTSPEED: Who is this…?

SANDWICH’s voice, distorted and disguised, comes through the speaker box.

SANDWICH: This is Sandwich.

LIGHTSPEED springs up, and looks around quickly, checking to make sure the room is clear. He leans towards the speaker and presses the button.

LIGHTSPEED: This better not be some prank…!

SANDWICH: No prank. I’m patching through one of our satellites directly to this device. Don’t worry – we’re untraceable.

LIGHTSPEED: Where are you…?

SANDWICH: (Chuckles) Doesn’t the big, bad star ship captain know better than to ask a fugitive that question? We’re safe in hiding, don’t worry.

LIGHTSPEED: We…?

SANDWICH: Shrike and I.

LIGHTSPEED: (Draws a sharp breath) He’s alive…?

SANDWICH: Do you want your orders, soldier?

LIGHTSPEED regains his composure.

LIGHTSPEED: Yes, sir.

SANDWICH: I need you to contact both Gortef and Carl, I couldn’t reach them. Tell them to start recruiting troops that are still loyal to Shrike – it wasn’t the flamers that killed him, it was Styxx.

LIGHTSPEED: No!

SANDWICH: Yes. We need you to start scoping out the other administrators as well, to see who’s loyal and who’s not – we don’t know who’s on who’s side in this fight.

LIGHTSPEED: Aye-aye sir.

SANDWICH: Good. I will call you again soon at an unspecified date and time, so keep your communicator handy.

LIGHTSPEED: Will do, sir. And good luck.

SANDWICH: Good luck to us all.

With that, SANDWICH terminates the transmission. LIGHTSPEED exhales and sits back, running his hands through his hair in shock. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on July 08, 2005, 05:24:10 pm

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
And all the personalities are based off of your forum personas. As I have never met you in real life, I wouldn't know what to put, now would I? :)

Except you've had me cursing here and there in these stories. :p


Regarding this post's installment, I have one nitpick: As a wanted fugitive, I would certainly hope I'd retain enough presence of mind to ask the person I'm calling if they are alone before I identify myself to them. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Mongoose on July 08, 2005, 05:59:09 pm

Anyone feel like creating an actual CGI version of this?  C'mon, it couldn't take that long, could it? :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on July 09, 2005, 03:11:40 am

I think a comic would be much better - and more likely to actually be done. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Martinus on July 09, 2005, 06:14:03 am

Quote

Originally posted by Sandwich


Except you've had me cursing here and there in these stories. :p
 

[color=66ff00]I think you've said 'damn' once or twice, UT probably just extrapolated from this. ;)
[/color]

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on July 11, 2005, 02:12:28 am

Quote

Originally posted by Maeglamor

[color=66ff00]I think you've said 'damn' once or twice, UT probably just extrapolated from this. ;)
[/color]

I may have, although I probably used it more as a statement than as a curse. Though that's the meaning of it, anyway, so... :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Turnsky on July 11, 2005, 02:37:33 am

Quote

Originally posted by Sandwich
I think a comic would be much better - and more likely to actually be done. :p

don't look at me, i've got enough to do already :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on July 16, 2005, 02:23:50 pm

Come on Turnsky. It'll be fun :D We could get all the artists on HLP to do a colab.

SCENE NINETY-NINE. INT. BATTLECRUISER-MILLENIUM BRIDGE – NIGHT.

The MILLENIUM’S BRIDGE is much different than the clean, industrial workplaces that we have become accustomed to on HARD LIGHT ships. Pipes and consoles are poking out every which way, and there is very little empty space in the cramped control room. A CREWMEMBER sits diligently at his control desk, an archaic-looking panel wedged up in front of him. Dressed in a dilapidated uniform, he is the very opposite of the cleanly cut and freshly pressed HARD LIGHT officers. Hugging a pair of oversized headphones to his head, he nods, then turns to face the SUPREME COMMANDER. The latter is resting in his chair, his back is turned to us, and he is in silhouette, obscuring his identity.

CREWMEMBER: Supreme Commander, sir. We are receiving a transmission from The Untouchable.

The SUPREME COMMANDER nods and picks up a small one-ear microphone from his chair. Placing it to his head, he nods once more, and the CREWMEMBER hits a switch. STYXX’s voice comes through, garbled through the head set.

STYXX (Voice-Over): Derek?

DEREK SMART, his identity now revealed, grunts an acknowledgement.

STYXX (Voice-Over): My plan is nearing fruition. Your forces will commence their attack shortly. Are you ready?

DEREK SMART: Of course I am.

STYXX (Voice-Over): Excellent. We will be contacting you again within the day.

DEREK SMART lowers the headset, and we fade to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED. INT. FORUM ARCHIVES – DAY.

SHRIKE is pacing back and forth in the tiny room. KALFIRETH and SANDWICH are sitting at the center table, several papers laid in front of each of them.

SHRIKE: So what do we have…?

SANDWICH exhales and leans forward, picking up some papers and leafing through them.

SANDWICH: Well I got in touch with…

He pauses to think.

SANDWICH: Nico, Gortef, and Lightspeed. Carl is unnacounted for, but when the fighting starts, I he’ll help us out.

SHRIKE nods.

SHRIKE: Forces?

SANDWICH: Well, we have Lightspeed’s corvette...Nico has promised me a contingent of marines, and Gortef has pledged a squadron of fighters, on top of the ones already stationed aboard LIGHTSPEED’s ship.

SHRIKE turns to look at KALFIRETH.

SHRIKE: And you?

KALFIRETH: I have recruited about one hundred people to our cause…it’s easy pickings, almost all of the forum members are still loyal to us, and believe what I say once they give me time to explain.

SHRIKE: Almost all…?

KALFIRETH: I encountered resistance from a large sect of Defense Force members. Any support of the old guard or dissent against STYXX’s new power is met with severe verbal backlash and warnings.

SHRIKE: Interesting and yet disconcerting all the same…but if STYXX is so hostile to anyone supporting the old Administration, then how is he planning to maintain control?

KALFIRETH continues.

KALFIRETH: If you think that’s bad – word has it the Battlecruiser fleet will be within attack range within the day. Defense Force units are already being loaded into heavy-hauler transports in preparation.

SANDWICH looks at KALFIRETH curiously after that statement.

SANDWICH: Are you sure…? How large are the transports?

KALFIRETH thinks for a moment, then replies nonchalantly.

KALFIRETH: I don’t know…enough to hold one, maybe two legions of troops…why?

SANDWICH sits back and looks down, thinking. His companions stare at him questioningly.

SHRIKE: Sandwich…? What is it?

SANDWICH: It’s just…

He pauses, confused. He thinks for a few more seconds, then looks up at SHRIKE, a puzzled look on his face.

SANDWICH: We only use those transports for mass evacuations or planetary landings…in a space fight, they’d be gunned down in a matter of seconds - I don’t understand why they’d send such big turkeys out there, unless—

He stops, then looks up at SHRIKE, his eyes wide in both surprise and fear. SHRIKE looks puzzled, then as the truth slowly begins to dawn, his expression becomes worrisome.

SHRIKE: Unless they’re not going to send them out there at all…!

KALFIRETH looks at the two of them, confused.

KALFIRETH: What? What’s going on?

SHRIKE wheels around and looks at him.

SHRIKE: There’s no time! Hurry, get all the supporters you can find, and get them to the Neo Terra Victorious forums. They’re not in use, we can stage from there.

He turns to SANDWICH.

SHRIKE: Get all of your troops to that same location – but make it quiet. Tell Lightspeed to collect all long-range ships and gather them in the asteroid field! Get him to try and collect as many supporter capital ships as possible – we need the big guns, and we need them now. Both of you, go!

SANDWICH stands and nods, bolting out the door. KALFIRETH rises as well, looks questioningly at SHRIKE, then follows SANDWICH through the door. When the door shuts, SHRIKE slumps into the chair. Leaning forward, he puts his face in his hands. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: NGTM-1R on July 16, 2005, 03:35:52 pm

I don't suppose I could trouble you for a bit part...?

And keep going!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on July 16, 2005, 05:53:39 pm

LUV it..... hehe!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Turnsky on July 17, 2005, 01:00:51 am

oddly enough, UT, i did print out the script for the first part, i'll see what i ca do with it. if i get any free time, that is...

and i'll PM you the results.. oh and.. if you'll be so kind as to provide me structural details, and how certain things look (like ships, stations, etc) that'd be nice, thanks.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on July 17, 2005, 01:54:34 am

I've been picturing HLP as a cross between DS9 and an Arcadia.


...but that's just me. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Turnsky on July 17, 2005, 02:01:40 am

Quote

Originally posted by Sandwich
I've been picturing HLP as a cross between DS9 and an Arcadia.


...but that's just me. :p

DS9 and an Arcadia?  like an arcadia on the DS9 station instead of the plyons?

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on July 17, 2005, 04:45:43 pm

I dunno! Just merge 'em! :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on July 20, 2005, 01:14:57 am

Keep up the good work UT :yes:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Darkage on July 20, 2005, 01:40:06 pm

Great Read UT!:D

You still got it:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on July 21, 2005, 08:16:51 pm

It's small, but I felt like I HAD to write something.


SCENE ONE-HUNDRED-ONE. INT.DOCKING BAY ONE – DAY.

A massive operation is under way, the sounds of heavy machinery and instruments of war resounding in the cavernous docking bay. Colossal transport ships sit, their maws open, devouring troops as they march rank and file inside. Scattered amongst the troops are heavy armor detachments of mechs and tanks, progressing slowly up the ramps. In the background, fighters and bombers are launching from their cradles, and farther off in the distance, cruisers and corvettes can be seen deploying from their berths, launching themselves into the starry sky just beyond the forcefield. We see NGTM1R directing traffic. DARKAGE jogs up to him and salutes. NGTM1R returns the gesture.

NGTM1R: What is it corporal?

DARKAGE: Sir, my squad is having some trouble about the transport arrangements. Did you want us in the odd or even numbered transports?

NGTM1R leafs through the clipboard in front of him.

NGTM1R: Were you enrolled before or after the new training methods went into effect?

DARKAGE looks up and exhales, thinking.

DARKAGE: Before.

NGTM1R looks up from his clipboard at DARKAGE and smiles slightly.

NGTM1R: Then you’d go into the even numbered transports.

DARKAGE nods and salutes, NGTM1R doing the same. Just as he turns to leave, he twists and looks back.

DARKAGE: Um, sir...?

NGTM1R: Yes?

DARKAGE: About the landing craft. Some of my men have expre—

NGTM1R chuckles and holds up a hand to stop him.

NGTM1R: Relax – we’ve gotten tons of people asking us about them. The higher ups say everything will be taken care of.

DARKAGE nods, still not quite satisfied. He gives one last informal salute, then continues on his way. NGTM1R follows him with his eyes for a little bit, then looks back at his clipboard. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on July 21, 2005, 09:02:12 pm

even numbered transports are going down! all the loyalists are gonna die! The DS fleet will kill us all! OH NOES!!!!!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: NGTM-1R on July 21, 2005, 09:13:14 pm

Look at me, I'm evil!

...wait...

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on July 22, 2005, 05:43:37 am

No you're not...you're jusr a buerocrat.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: NGTM-1R on July 22, 2005, 06:03:37 am

Same thing.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Darkage on July 22, 2005, 01:33:04 pm

nice UT!:D

But last time i remember i was some sort of Matrix/Sword person:D with a higher rank than corporal:D

Just had to ***** abit:D
anyway it was a nice read again UT!:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on August 03, 2005, 11:37:26 pm

You guys know the drill...it's gonna get messy, so make sure to call those cameos! :D

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWO. INT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX COCKPIT – DAY.

A cramped cockpit greets us. Slightly more spacious than the previous cockpits we have seen, it seats two in a tandem configuration, albeit not comfortably. Dials and touch screens glow menacingly, their soft hues reflecting off the numerous switches and dials poking out from every conceivable place. GRUG sits amidst it all, going over a check list resting on his leg. He adjusts instruments and flips switches intermittently. His pilot, DRAGONCLAW enters from a rear hatch, closing it behind him. Taking his seat, he buckles himself in and reaches down, picking up his own check list, leafing through it. Reaching up, he flips a couple switches.

DRAGONCLAW: Get everything set for me, GRUG?

GRUG: Yes sir…fuel exchange looks good…flight plan is good…

He reaches forward and presses a couple buttons on a largish touch screen display in front of him. It comes alive, then flickers, static coursing through the screen, and shuts itself down. GRUG hits it hard on the side, and it flickers back to life, data readouts instantly springing forward.

GRUG: Navigation’s good…

DRAGONCLAW looks across at his companion, and then looks down at the display. Rolling his eyes, he looks down at his check list.

DRAGONCLAW: On that note…

He looks outside. Spacecraft are beginning to lift off and exit the hangar.

DRAGONCLAW: It looks like everyone’s getting ready to get out of here…let’s get those final checks done fast.

As the two busy about their work, we fade to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THREE. INT. MACHINA TERRA FORUMS – DAY.

STYXX is leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the desk. He is leafing through a large hard covered book, a computer running through video footage and battle maps of the attack to come.  A knock is heard at the door. STYXX sits up, marking the book and setting it down on the table.

STYXX: Open.

The door whooshes open and in steps COBRA, who approaches the desk and stands at rigid attention. STYXX looks up at him.

STYXX: Speak.

COBRA: Sir! I have successfully disarmed the station’s internal weaponry, and have confirmed that the sensor net is indeed down.

STYXX sits back and nods, half smiling.

STYXX: Excellent COBRA…you are proving to be of use after all…alert the newbies that the time to strike is nigh…

COBRA salutes crisply and wheels around on his heel, exiting. STYXX smiles and reaches down, picking up the book and returning to his former position. As he begins to read, we cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THREE. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS – DAY.

We are visiting one of the most ramshackle forums to date. Couches are thrown about the floor, slowly rotting away as mice and other rodents attack them daily. Pipes hang from the ceiling, dripping fluid on the floor below. Large puddles of chemicals are accumulating on various places of the floor, and the long-destroyed ceiling fans now hang dead and lifeless from the ceiling far above. A small, beat up podium is in front of the room, and behind it stand KALFIRETH, SHRIKE, and SANDWICH, who has the stand. About three to four hundred forum members have already arrived, and are flipping over couches, stools, even pieces of machinery to use as seats. More members are trickling in at an ever decreasing rate, until finally they cease. SANDWICH motions with his fingers to two members at the door, who promptly and laboriously push it shut.
SANDWICH steps up to the podium, the lack of a microphone forcing him to shout.

SANDWICH: Friends and fellow forum members…I will not lie to you – Hard Light and all who support her are in grave danger…we have confirmation that not only are our troops being led purposely to their doom…but the very man who betrayed our leader is the one who is at the head of the final charge…Styxx seeks to destroy our home and us as well…

He steps away from the podium and motions for SHRIKE to take the stand. He does so, and a small murmur goes through the crowd. When he speaks, he does not shout, but all can hear his words.

SHRIKE: We have gathered you here today so that we may organize against this threat…many of you gathered here today are veterans of the First Forum War…while others may have simply come because they believe in the values of Hard Light…

He pauses and surveys the room. His audience remains rapt at attention.

SHRIKE: The very same values that are now in danger of extinction…!

The room stirs.

SHRIKE: We must strike back at this cancer before it overtakes this forum and destroys it. For that purpose, Sandwich has managed to supply us with armaments. With these, we plan to organize teams to retake key strategic points in the forum, the first being the communications array. With this, we will be able to warn the fleet in time, and prevent a slaughter…

He pauses again, the room is deathly still.

SHRIKE: I will not give you a speech about how some of you are going to die and what not. I will simply tell you this; if you truly love this forum, if you want it to survive – fight until you die, because I promise you there is no other way out.

As the assembled begin to cheer, SANDWICH motions for them to line up and receive their weaponry, we fade to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED FOUR. EXT. HARD LIGHT FLEET - DAY.

DRAGONCLAW and GRUG are lining up in formation alongside several other transports. In the distance, massive battleships and destroyers can be seen pulling alongside various small craft formations, like massive birds taking their offspring under their wings. DRAGONCLAW’S voice comes over the radio, crackling and distorted.


DRAGONCLAW (Voice Over): Transport Wing One, Transport Wing One, radio check, over.

Cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED FIVE. INT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX COCKPIT – DAY.

As the other ships in the formation begin to sound off, DRAGONCLAW turns to GRUG and jerks his thumb backwards to the door.

DRAGONCLAW: Make sure those Marines are prepped…we’ve got about five minutes until the jump, and I don’t want anyone getting off this tub sans weaponry.

GRUG chuckles and hauls himself out of his seat. Ducking and dodging over equipment, he opens the rear hatch and enters the cargo hold. About one hundred Marines are arrayed below him, all sitting in jump seats, adjusting equipment. GRUG grabs a mic from the wall.

GRUG: Listen up everyone. We’ve got five minutes till jump time. I want all equipment secured, and all weaponry ready. We’re going to be going in fast – this thing wasn’t meant for space combat, so we’ll be slamming down hard on that hull. As soon as we hit, I want you all out and scaling that surface, because if you don’t, Carl’s going to have some fun with whatever’s left of you.

One of the Marines leans over and begins to talk with another. GRUG catches it and quickly turns.

GRUG: And yes, he can survive in space. If you die, your balls belong to him, gentlemen.

He resets the receiver and returns to the cockpit. DRAGONCLAW glances at him.

DRAGONCLAW: Rousing speech…

GRUG: Yea, well, Carl already left me a message saying the same thing to me…I figured I should share the love.

He smiles weakly and DRAGONCLAW tries to hold in his laughter. We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on August 04, 2005, 01:30:35 am

Where's my Noghri bodyguards?? :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Turnsky on August 04, 2005, 02:50:03 am

some idjit added too much water to the last batch and made Noghri soup..

we're still waiting for the new batch to arrive.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on August 04, 2005, 09:34:05 am

Whens Cobra gonna breath Vacuum, for disgracing HLP.:p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on August 04, 2005, 01:13:37 pm

What ever happened to Administrator, by the way? Did I miss that part?

Heh... first post in a long time. :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on August 04, 2005, 04:12:17 pm

awensome...love it, love it!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on August 08, 2005, 01:39:59 pm

Oh boy, it's about to hit the fan big time! Can I have a cameo, please? I'd prefer that I don't die but if I do get wasted at least make it a cool death. :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Martinus on August 08, 2005, 01:44:47 pm

[color=66ff00]*redsniper is killed by a falling lamp*
[/color]

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on August 08, 2005, 01:51:17 pm

:lol: *redsniper chokes on a pretzel*
btw, nice title Maeg.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Blaise Russel on August 08, 2005, 02:13:39 pm

*redsniper was killed by a collision with Alpha 2*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on August 08, 2005, 05:11:20 pm

*redsniper was killed by collision with self*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on August 08, 2005, 06:36:42 pm

*usless posts were killed by their own emptyness* :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on August 08, 2005, 08:02:45 pm

*redsniper suffocated under loads of spam*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on August 08, 2005, 11:55:20 pm

*redsniper has killed himself with his own laser fire*

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on August 09, 2005, 01:43:47 am

oh wow. still cool. waiting for the fight scenes.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on August 27, 2005, 12:43:47 pm

And the people cried, "Give us more!"

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on September 26, 2005, 03:32:44 pm

Any updates?;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on September 26, 2005, 04:10:17 pm

Sorry, they'll come eventually. Real life concerns and all that :) But don't worry, I already know what's coming next :)

EDIT: Re reading the story now, so I know what's going on :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on September 26, 2005, 09:27:43 pm

Major update. Hope you all enjoy :)
EDIT: Notepad sucks at formatting...


SCENE ONE HUNDRED SIX. INT. HARD LIGHT DOCKING BAY SIXTY-ONE. DAY.

The last transport has just left, leaving the cavernous hanger bay completey devoid of life, save for a few forum members meandering about, performing last minute system checks and the like. A large, apparantly damaged destroyer sits in the hangar, the scaffolds around it deserted for the raid. We see NGTM1R, standing on the far side of the hangar in front of a large door, which is hidden in shadow below a scaffold. He lights a cigarrette with a match, and waves the flame out, tossing it behind him. Taking a long puff, he drops his arm to his waist, but is suddenly grabbed from behind. A gruff voice eminates from the shadows.

VOICE: Don't move...

The arms twist slightly and a figure drops to the floor from the scaffold above, with a dull whoomph of rubber soled shoes hitting hard metal. A head moves forward, snake like, out of the shadow, dressed in a piece of headgear strangely reminiscent of Splinter Cell's Sam Fisher. The person flips up the visor, revealing himself to be PYRO MX.

PYRO MX: I'm going to let you go. If you make a sound or try to run, I'll kill you.

NGTM1R nods slowly, his eyes wide. PYRO MX slowly slips off of him, but keeps his hands at a disconcerting distance from his neck.

NGTM1R: Wh...who are you?

PYRO MX doesn't answer, instead, he slides a knife out of his vest pocket with one of his hands. Placing it just next to NGTM1R's throat, far enough so that he does not notice, he inquires of the shaky individual in front of him.

PYRO MX: State your allegience...

NGTM1R gulps, and starts to peek around him, but stops himself. Looking up, he closes his eyes.

NGTM1R: My loyalties lie with the original administrators of Hard Light...

He squeezes his eyes tight, preparing for the end. He holds it there for a few seconds, then slowly opens one eye, then the other. PYRO MX has sheathed his knife and is now directing a few other cat-suited operatives forward. They move stealthily and silently past the pair, numbering about twenty in total. NGTM1R turns towards his former captor.

NGTM1R: What are...what are you guys doing?

PYRO MX gives one last hushed statement to one of his operatives, then turns to NGTM1R, who takes a step back instinctively.

PYRO MX: We're the Bravos - and we're commandeering this vessel.

NGTM1R looks confused, and PYRO MX turns to go. He stops, and turns his head back, looking at NGTM1R out of the corner of his eye. Grinning, he lifts his hands up to his head set.

PYRO MX: Yar.

He grins wider and drops the headset over his eyes, then dissappears into the shadows. We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED SEVEN. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS CONTROL CENTER - DAY.

A dozen or so people are standing in the cleaned up control room. Aging displays, far less advanced than previous models we have seen, are humming in the background, showing various diagrams and technical readouts. One display in the center of the room shows a massive board, with a two-column list of several objectives, reading down in the order of OBJECTIVE ONE, OBJECTIVE TWO, etc. Several of them are lit from behind by a green glow, yet still others are glowing a crimson red. NICO is sitting in a chair, a cup of warm milk beside him. Nearby stands KALFIRETH, monitoring a hodge podge of several screens stitched together to form one cohesive image. SHRIKE is on the other side of the room at another station, also managing operations on a seperate bank of monitors. KALFIRETH suddenly turns around, and shouts to SHRIKE.

KALFIRETH: Sir! The fleet is in position and they will be jumping to engage the enemy momentarily.

SHRIKE nods and taps away at a few keys. He turns to NICO.

SHRIKE: Nico!

NICO moans and waves a hand at him.

SHRIKE: Sorry...you said you knew which transports our people would be on...?

NICO nods slowly, and takes a gulp of milk.

NICO: They're even numbered - they'll be staying behind...

SHRIKE nods and turns back to his console. He hits a few more keys and up pops a large schematic.

SHRIKE: Excellent...Lightspeed's supposed to be in that group...we'll get him to jump back and warn the other ships, once the enemy has ju...

He trails off. KALFIRETH and NICO turn to face him. NICO grunts inquisitively. SHRIKE taps a few more keys, his brow furrowed. He taps a few more keys, then his eyes go wide - he turns to face KALFIRETH.

SHRIKE: We've got a problem.

KALFIRETH gets up and walks towards him. NICO tries, but slumps back in his chair. KALFIRETH turns to him and chuckles.

KALFIRETH: You always were a lousy man with a hangover, venom...

NICO suddenly gives KALFIRETH a queer, inquisitive look. He continues to stare at KALFIRETH, and apparantly he is the only one that has noticed his slip, as SHRIKE is too busy staring at the screen in front of him. NICO continues to stare at KALFIRETH as the two converse.

KALFIRETH: What is it Shrike?

SHRIKE points at the screen.

SHRIKE: I was running through the jump coordinates on each ship, to confirm what NICO said...

He hits a few keys and up flashes a list of ships, all odd numbered. A line of text next to each of them is flashing red.

SHRIKE:...and I found this. Each of the Rebel ships has a return jump coordinate right behind Hard Light Station...

KALFIRETH: So...?

SHRIKE hits a few more keys. A box is drawn around one of the flashing lines and enlarged, and a new data readout is given.

SHRIKE: Each of these jump coordinates accounts for jump interference from several hundred more starships! They're not just planning to desert us when the enemy fleet arrives - they're planning to join it!

KALFIRETH dashes back over to his instrument panel, and NICO, apparantly having forgotten the previous incident, speaks into a microphone, frantically relaying orders. We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED EIGHT. INT. ATLANTIS BRIDGE - DAY.

PYRO MX's squad now has complete control of the ship. Several of his squad members are running frantically about the bridge, desperately trying to bring the damaged capital ship online. PYRO MX puts a hand to his ear and speaks.

PYRO MX: Big Turtle is prepped and awaiting the eggs, over.

NICO's voice crackles over the comm link, distorted slightly by the static.

NICO: Acknowledge Big Turtle. Eggs are on the way. Inform Papa Turtle that there has been a change of plans - you are to rendevous with Clutch immediately after Big Bird flies, I repeat, immediately after Big Bird flies away, acknowledge.

PYRO MX: Big Turtle acknowledges, will inform.

He drops his hand from his ear, and we cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED NINE. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS STAGING AREA - DAY.

SANDWICH is sitting idly on top of a crate, REDSNIPER is next to him, eating out of a small metal tin. SANDWICH looks away, then looks at the floor, his arms crossed.

SANDWICH: Command and Conquer...

REDSNIPER takes a bite and replies, not looking up from his food.

REDSNIPER: Total Annihilation...

SANDWICH: Command and Conquer...

REDSNIPER takes another bite.

REDSNIPER: Total Annihilation...

SANDWICH: Comma--

His reaches up to his ear, pressing in on it. He turns away slightly. NICO's voice comes through, again distorted by static, although less so.

NICO: Papa Turtle, Papa Turtle, this is Shell, come in.

SANDWICH: Papa Turtle here, Shell, go.

NICO: Hatch the eggs, I repeat, hatch the eggs. Flash directives on site, contact Big Turtle for primary reboot, over.

SANDWICH: Acknowledged Shell, eggs are hatching, will flash on site, over and out.

SANDWICH stands up on top of the crate. With one last sideways glance at REDSNIPER, he snipes a parting shot.

SANDWICH: Command and Conquer.

Before he can hear his adversary's retort, he quickly begins to shout out orders to his forces, spinning his finger around in a circle above his head. Hundreds of troopers rise slowly up off of their haunches, loading and checking their weapons. REDSNIPER plops his food tray down on the crate and lurches off of it, meandering over to his powered armor. Clambering onboard, he raises one of it's massive arms and repeat's SANDWICH's motion. Rows upon rows of mechs begin to power up, ready for the  march. We fade to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TEN. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE - DAY.

LIGHTSPEED sits in his chair, numbly staring at a holographic display in front of him. Several ships and asteroids are outlined on it, floating by his placid eyes lazily. Suddenly, a buzz from the communications console in his chair wakes him from his reverie. He depresses a button on it. NICO's voice comes through, extremely distorted by static from the radio.

NICO: Gull, Gull, directives flash as follows: proceed to Clutch immediately after Big Bird flies, command authority Alpha One granted, move Clutch to rear station, over and out.

LIGHTSPEED smirks slightly, and sits up straight. Typing a few commands into his console, the big display moves to the side, and in front of him appears a large tactical command map. He signals to one of his officers.

LIGHTSPEED: Helm, lock our rendevous coordinates, prepare fleet for immediate jump once the enemy forces.

He turns to the center of the bridge, and begins to shout out orders.

LIGHTSPEED: Bring all weaponry online! Prep the fighters for immediate launch, set alert five on all craft! Inform the fleet that we are preparing to launch!

He opens up a few more windows in front of him, and begins pouring over the tactical information. We fade to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN. INT. ATLANTIS BRIDGE - DAY.

SANDWICH is just strolling onto the deck from the corridor. PYRO MX salutes and stands tall next to the captain's chair. SANDWICH eases gently into the center chair, taking a few moments to appreciate the moment. He looks up at PYRO MX.

SANDWICH: Status on the vessel?

PYRO MX: The Atlantis is ready to go. All troops are loaded and waiting. Three of her four engines are operating, and all exposed decks have been sealed off and denied access. Weaponry is all checked out, you have full capabilities on that front, sir.

SANDWICH: Alright...and what orders were so important that Nico couldn't tell me over the comm?

PYRO MX: Sir, your new orders are to jump to the friendly fleet as soon as the enemy forces launch. It was not revelaed to me as to why this is so.

SANDWICH nods, and inhales.

SANDWICH: Well...let's get this show on the road...!

We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWELVE. EXT. ATLANTIS - DAY.

A loud humming comes from the ship as it starts to power up. An even louder banging noise eminates from some indistinct portion of it, however, it slowly subsides as the massive destroyer lifts off from the deck of the hangar bay, one of it's four main engines noticably dark. The ship rises higher and higher, coming to a stop some distance above the deck. Thruster blasts from the ship's engines send debris flying about the hangar, as the ship slowly lumbers out of the massive cavern, and into the great black beyond. Cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN. INT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX COCKPIT - DAY.

DRAGONCLAW and GRUG are checking several systems. Outside of the cockpit windows we can see a massive and formidable fleet arrayed in front of them. JETMECH_JR's voice crackles through the comm line.

JETMECH_JR: All designated ships prepare for jump in five...

GRUG and DRAGONCLAW look about the cockpit, straining to see the extent of the fleet. JETMECH_JR continues his countdown.

JETMECH_JR: Four...

JETMECH_JR: Three...

His voice starts to crackle over the comm line.

JETMECH_JR: Two...

Ships begin to move slowly forward.

JETMECH_JR: One...jump.

Throughout the fleet, subspace jump holes open up in front of almost three quarters of the fleet. The massive, lumbering hunks of metal shoot through the blue holes, and disappear, leaving a small force of light ships and transports hovering about the area. DRAGONCLAW turns to GRUG, shaking his head.

DRAGONCLAW: Here we go...

GRUG nods and turns to his instruments, lost in thought. We fade to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on September 26, 2005, 09:39:35 pm

Very good.;) looks like the next part will probley have explosions.;7

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on September 27, 2005, 12:37:32 am

Quote

Originally posted by Unknown Target
A large, apparantly damaged destroyer sits in the hangar

:wtf: How large is this hangar bay?

Otherwise, :yes:.  I'm looking forward to the explosions part. :)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on September 27, 2005, 08:09:02 pm

Haha! Sweet! I'm a Lance Leader, mech commander kinda guy. :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on September 30, 2005, 06:02:27 am

I've forgotten who's good and who's bad. :o

Other than the fact that anyone with me is, of course, good. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on September 30, 2005, 07:28:29 am

Total Annihilation... :nervous:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Mongoose on September 30, 2005, 05:45:42 pm

Crap; now I have to go back and read the whole thing from the beginning :p Very nice work :)

P.S.  If you need an extra red shirt in one of the upcoming battles, feel free to throw my name in there :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on October 01, 2005, 12:00:48 pm

Sweet, sweet work as allways


cant wait to see more (and my renewed apperance)..

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on October 02, 2005, 05:08:37 pm

Quote

Originally posted by redsniper
Total Annihilation... :nervous:

*agrees* :p

I hate to say it, but as much as I loved the story and ground-breakingness of C&C, TA wipes the floor with anything, ever. :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on October 02, 2005, 05:15:41 pm

I haven't played either actually. The only strategy games I really like are X-Com, Homeworld, and Starcraft, and I cheated through most of Starcraft because I wanted to see the rest of the story. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on October 02, 2005, 05:17:48 pm

TA > Starcraft in gameplay.

Starcraft > TA in story.

But how many people play an RTS to listen to a story? ;)

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on October 02, 2005, 10:07:13 pm

Sorry guys, no action - didn't have enough time (homework). But I wanted to post this so I don't leave you with nothing :)

SCENE ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – DAY.

SWANTZ is sitting in front of a large holographic sphere, filled with hundreds of small red and green dots. Suddenly, the red dots begin to disappear at a rapid rate – he wheels around to face LIGHTSPEED.

SWANTZ: Sir! The enemy is jumping out now!

LIGHTSPEED nods and whips around to face his HELM OFFICER.

LIGHTSPEED: Get us over there now!

He turns to the center display, sitting back in his chair and typing a few commands into his keypad. The display in front of him flashes, and diverges into two separate maps; one of his forces, and one of the ones they are going to rescue.

LIGHTSPEED: Inform all ships in the fleet that we are jumping in ten seconds – all hands, brace for subspace jump!

We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS CONTROL CENTER – DAY.

MONGOOSE is sitting in front of his own display. He grabs his headset with his hand and nods, turning around to SHRIKE behind him.

MONGOOSE: Sir – the Grandeur and its fleet confirms that it has jumped to the rendezvous point – the Atlantis is warming up her drives now and will arrive momentarily.

SHRIKE nods, and turns to KALFIRETH.

SHRIKE: Well…all we can do now is wait, I guess…

KALFIRETH starts to nod, but suddenly stops, listening.

KALFIRETH: Do you hear that…?

SHRIKE turns to listen.

SHRIKE: No, I –

He stops, as a loud, rythmatic banging and chanting suddenly starts to echo down the corridors, growing louder and louder. The sound sends vibrations through the metal walls, and it is amplified a thousand fold. SHRIKE darts to MONGOOSE.
SHRIKE: Mongoose – what is that? Pull up the security cameras for General Freespace and all passageways leading from it.

MONGOOSE nods and hits a few keystrokes. The screen comes alive as several different views from different security cameras pop up on different areas. On each image is a swarming, teeming mass of thousands upon thousands of forum members, all with zombified looks on their faces. SHRIKE leans forward, squinting.

SHRIKE: What are they saying…?

MONGOOSE hits a few more keys, and the sounds from outside are soon echoed on his speakers. He adjusts some settings on the screen, and the hundreds of thousands of voices suddenly coalesce into one, rythmatic beat.

Voices: Freespace 3! Beams won’t fire! Freespace 3! Beams won’t fire…!

SHRIKE takes a step back and motions for his two compatriots to join him. They approach and view the screen with varying degrees of shock. NICO is the first to speak.

NICO: My God…the noobs…they’re uprising!

SHRIKE nods and grips MONGOOSE tightly by the shoulder.

SHRIKE: Hurry, bring up all the cameras in the passageways leading to this forum…!

MONGOOSE taps hurriedly, feverishly bringing up four large images on the screen – the same scene greets them – hundreds of thousands of zombie-like forum members, scrambling over one another, vainly trying to surge forward.

SHRIKE takes a step back then hurridly grabs his tactical vest from the center chair.

SHRIKE: Nico, come with me! Kalifreth, stay here and work with Mongoose – try to keep them out by whatever means necessary!

They comply, and NICO trails after SHRIKE. They enter the corridor outside, and begin to run as fast as they can down the windy hallways and byways of the Command Center.

NICO: Where are we heading?

SHRIKE: We’ve got to get whatever we have left in here mobilized and ready to fight. How many forum members do we have left in this forum?

NICO pauses, thinking.

NICO: About one hundred soldiers and maybe twenty or thirty mechs – that’s nowhere near enough!
SHRIKE nods, then reaches down into his tac vest pocket and pulls out a walkie-talkie. He depresses the button, flicking it on.

SHRIKE: Kalifreth, can you get the Forum Defense Grid online?

KALIFRETH: Two seconds…

There’s a long pause on the radio – SHRIKE and NICO take a sharp turn and are greeted with an elevator stop. The doors are missing, and there are no cables hanging in the dark abyss beyond. They look to the left and find a staircase doorway. Kicking it in, the door blasts off its rusty hinges and the two sprint down the staircase at top speed.

SHRIKE: Kalifreth, tell me you’re taking a long time for a good reason…!

KALIFRETH: The grid isn’t coming online! Someone must’ve disabled it!

SHRIKE turns to NICO, who looks at him with an equal look of surpise. SHRIKE turns back to the walkie-talkie.

SHRIKE: Alright, has the Atlantis jumped already?

KALIFRETH: Negative, they are still completing pre-jump checklists.

SHRIKE: Get them to send one – no, two contingents of marines and three contingents of mechs to this location, pronto!

KALIFRETH: Problem – if we do that, they won’t be able to get in! The noobs control half the station!

SHRIKE and NICO have by now reached the bottom of the stairwell – NICO rams his upper body into it, breaking it open. They are greeted with an even louder banging and chanting coming from the walls beyond, and hurriedly rush to the small force of troops in the center of the forum.

SHRIKE: I don’t care! Tell them to blast through the outer hull if they have to! Just get them here – and once you’re done with that, get your asses down here and armed, now!

KALFIRETH: Acknowledged – Kalifreth out.

SHRIKE lowers the walkie-talkie and dashes to the soldiers, waving his arms frantically – they skid to a halt in front of RICTOR.

RICTOR: What’s going on?

NICO steps forward to take charge of the situation.

NICO: We have a situation – we need all your men on all four entrances to this forum –get them armed and ready for a massive enemy encounter.

RICTOR nods and turns around, shouting orders left and right. NICO and SHRIKE turn to each other and shake hands, then split off, each joining their own squad. We fade to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN. INT. ATLANTIS BRIDGE – DAY.

SANDWICH is sitting in the captain’s chair, over viewing a large holographic checklist right in front of him – suddenly, one of his officers wheels around.

OFFICER: Sir! Urgent message from Shrike! They say they need reinforcements!

SANDWICH turns in surpise.

SANDWICH: Did they say what they needed and why?

OFFICER: (Nods) Yes sir! There is an enormous noob uprising in progress – they need two marine contingents and three mech contingents – he states that you will probably have to cut through the outer hull to reach them.

SANDWICH: (Grumbles) Gosh darnit Shrike – it better be one huge uprising, or I’ll…

SANDWICH turns to the OFFICER.

SANDWICH: Alright, send them – we’ll have to do without them for now.

The OFFICER nods, and turns back to his console. We cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on October 02, 2005, 10:21:40 pm

And the tension mounts.:D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on October 02, 2005, 10:43:23 pm

Why can't the Marines just land with guns blazing and take on the n00bs from one side while Rictor, Shrike, & Co. get them from the other?

Can't wait for it all to start :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on October 02, 2005, 10:50:15 pm

Again with Sandwich swearing?  Tsk, tsk. :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Mongoose on October 02, 2005, 11:09:43 pm

Woohoo, I'm a tech lackey! :D  

(That noob line had to be the funniest moment of the whole story :lol: )

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on October 03, 2005, 12:36:33 am

Quote

Originally posted by Goober5000
Again with Sandwich swearing?  Tsk, tsk. :p

:lol:

BTW, guys, don't get any ideas. I'd just as soon mass-ban everyone then worry about dealing with an uprising in a less all-encompassing way. :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on October 03, 2005, 06:24:27 am

huh....Sandwich's been in the army....if he didn't swear, at least once, I'd be really, really surprised :p

Another great job, UT :yes: :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on October 04, 2005, 10:18:21 pm

You can thank Nightwish and 104.3 (The Buzz) for this installment.

People, people, reply in the thread! I need more names for the red shirts! :D

How is the writing on this one, by the way? It's been forever since I've done action writing.

SCENE ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN. EXT. FRIENDLY FLEET – DAY.

We open to see the other half of the fleet, still floating listlessly in space. A massive ship, the BABYLON, sits imposingly in the center of the fleet. Fighters zip back and forth between capital ships, rolling and dodging underneath the various girders and oddly shaped hulls. A small squadron strays a little too far from the fleet, and just as it turns around to return to it’s assigned post, a massive subspace portal opens, and the GRANDEUR rockets out in front of the small crafts, sending them reeling. Several more portals open up throughout the fleet, and LIGHTSPEED’s tiny fleet emerges from the netherworlds of subspace, intermingling with the hulking ships of the Hard Light Fleet. We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN. INT. BABYLON BRIDGE – DAY.

MAEGLAMOR sits in his command chair, when suddenly red blips turn up all across the gigantic holographic board hovering in front of the bridge. He stands up in shock.

MAEGLAMOR: What the hell?

He wheels to face BLACKDOVE, who is tapping away furiously at the console in front of him.

MAEGLAMOR: Sensors, report!

BLACKDOVE turns around, and in a Scottish accent,relates his findings.

BLACKDOVE: Cap’n! I dunno whet they are! They just popped outta subspace!

MAEGLAMOR: Hail them!

He turns and faces the screen, the agitation mounting on his face. BLACKDOVE turns back to his keyboard, and taps away. Still looking down, he shouts to MAEGLAMOR.

BLACKDOVE: I cannot dew it cap’n!

MAEGLAMOR turns in surprise.

MAEGLMAOR: Why the hell not?

BLACKDOVE hits a few keys and turns to point in front of the holographic display board, where a new message window has appeared. Inside it is LIGHTSPEED.

BLACKDOVE: Becuz they’re hailun us cap’n!

MAEGLMAOR turns to look in unmasked surprise at his comrade on the screen.

MAEGLAMOR: What the hell is this all about Lightspeed?

LIGHTSPEED: No time Maeglamor – order all your vessels to power up their weapons systems immediately!

MAEGLAMOR: On whose authority?

LIGHTSPEED: Shrike’s – authorization code Alpha Alpha Niner Zero Tango.

MAEGLAMOR pauses, his expression is unintelligible, although it is certainly a derivative of complete shock.

MAEGLAMOR: Very well…

He turns his head to look behind him and barks out his orders.

MAEGLAMOR: Order all fleet vessels to come up to combat power!

He turns a different direction.

MAEGLAMOR: Bring all forward batteries online, and power up engines for maximum strain!

He sits back down in his chair as the bridge comes alive as the crew frantically carries out his orders. LIGHTSPEED and MAEGLMAOR look at each other for a second, and they both nod. LIGHTSPEED’s window disappears, to be replaced with a large table detailing each ship’s status in the fleet. Fade to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN. INT. MACHINA TERRA FORUM – DAY.

STYXX is sitting in his office, his feet propped up on the desk. He holds a small shot glass of a yellowish liquid up to his face, watching as it refracts the light into different colors. His phone rings. He sits up, setting the glass on the table, and picks up the phone.

STYXX: Yes…?

He nods.

STYXX: Excellent…

He nods again.

STYXX: Proceed at your discretion, Mr. Smart…

He puts the phone down, and looks off into the distance for a second. He then looks at it again, picks it up, and presses a button, holding it up to his ear. We cut to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS FORUMS – DAY.


The situation is now much more under control – troops are lined up behind hastily constructed barricades, fidgeting nervously. SHRIKE and KALFIRETH are behind a mech, trying vainly to fix a broken hydraulics line. SHRIKE is up to his waist inside the back panel, and a loud banging is heard from inside the mech. KALFIRETH is outside, when suddenly, a small ringing is heard. He quickly glances at SHRIKE, then picks a small phone out of his pocket, lifting it up to his ear, huddling away from his friend.

KALFIRETH: Hello…?

STYXX: Eliminate the objective. I will be listening.

KALFIRETH moves the phone to his other hand. He reaches down from his vest and shakily unclips his pistol. He lowers it to his side, and, his voice level, calls SHRIKE out from inside.

KALFIRETH: Shrike…

SHRIKE gets up, and looks at the gun unfazed.

KALFIRETH: I’m sorry.

KALFIRETH raises the gun to SHRIKE’s chest and fires a single shot, point blank. SHRIKE drops to the deck like a sack of bricks, and KALFIRETH lifts the phone up to his ear.

KALFIRETH: Did you hear…?

STYXX: Yes. Good work…

The phone hangs up, and KALFIRETH replaces it into his pocket. He looks down at SHRIKE solemnly for a moment, then nudges him with his boot. SHRIKE rolls over and groans.

SHRIKE: Ow…I thought you said they were rubber…

KALFIRETH: I said I would try to get rubber – but it’s so hard to find the right ammo these days.

SHRIKE looks up at him, surprised, then looks at his chest. A neat hole is burrowed into the front of his vest, and when he rolls over, a squashed metal pellet falls out.

SHRIKE: Oh…
KALFIRETH laughs and extends a hand.

KALFIRETH: Come on, before people start wondering about that shot.

SHRIKE smiles weakly and grabs KALFIRETH’s hand, and his hoisted up to his feet. The two chuckle and KALFIRETH brushes SHRIKE off, when suddenly a loud banging is heard on one of the doors. It subsides, only to be replaced by an even louder banging on all four of the days. The noise grows stronger and stronger, and dents begin to pop out of the doors, in the shape of hands. Then the noise stops. SHRIKE and KALFIRETH run to one of the barricades and huddle down behind it. Soldiers cock and ready their weapons, and mechs spin their engines up.
Silence…
Suddenly, a loud thumping is heard from outside the door they are in front of. The entire assembly turns to watch, the fear is almost tangible. It seems to be growing louder and louder until finally, with a colossal bang, a massive metallic hand rips through the doorway, sending thousands of sharp metal shards skittering across the room. It rotates and another hand slides through the opening, and begin to peel the door apart like an onion. In steps one giant foot, then another. The machine enters, gradually rearing up to it’s towering height, much larger than that of the measly defense’s mechs. We cut to NICO, huddled behind another barricade on the far side of the room.

NICO: My God…it’s…it’s unbalanced!

The mech turns, it’s bright red visor narrowing sharply. It raises it’s right arm, then slams it down, locking it into place. Taking aim at one of the opposite doors, it lets loose a colossal ion beam, lancing forward and blowing the opposite door to pieces. NICO and his squad cower under a shower of debrees, as chunks of the door fly overhead. The gaping maw that was once a door is quiet and dark for a few seconds…and then a loud skittering sound is heard. It grows louder and louder until finally thousands upon thousands of noobs begin clawing over one another, streaming out of the doorway. NICO sits up and sees the sight. Raising his arm over his head, he brings it down forcefully, his hand facing forward.

NICO: Open fire!

Letting loose a fearsome battle cry, his troops raise their weapons and begin to fire blindly into the oncoming horde. Noobs are cut down left and right, bullets piercing their soft flesh and sending them reeling. NICO takes aim with his grenade launcher and fires a single round, sending it sailing through the first noob’s head and detonating it in the second’s. We cut back to SHRIKE and KALFIRETH, who turn to face their own battle. SHRIKE waves his arm towards the mech detachment, and points them towards the colossal noob mech. The lead Hard Light mech nods it’s head and repeats the gesture to his squadmates. SHRIKE and KALFIRETH, meanwhile turn to their own doorway, which is by now swarming with thousands of screeching noobs.

SHRIKE: All squads, open fire!
The cavernous forum comes alive with gunfire from both sides, as the thousands of enemy troops advance on the already miniscule defense. Chairs and couches are ripped up in the crossfire. One of the noobs gets over the wall and rips into an unlucky member, grabbing his head and ripping it from his body. He manages to chuck it at another forum member before TURNSKY dispatches him with a burst of automatic fire to the head. Another noob leaps the barrier and is about to land on TURNSKY before he is cut out of the sky by MONGOOSE. TURNSKY turns and grins at his savior, who gives him a thumbs up sign in return.
Meanwhile, a few steps away, several HL mechs are engaged in a deadly ten on one battle with the overpowered noob dreadnaught. We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY ONE. INT. REDMENACE’S COCKPIT- DAY.

We are now inside one of the mechs. REDMENACE sits in the cramped nerve center, his face set in grim determination. His mech rocks, and his face lights up as he lets loose with cannon fire. Through his headset we can hear scattered radio messages from his forces.

REDMENACE: Keep it together! HotSnoJ! Get behind it, get behind it!

REDMENACE quickly looks to the left, and his eyes widen.

REDMENACE: Aw ****…

We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY TWO. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS FORUMS – DAY.

We cut outside just in time to see a massive left arm come flying out from the enemy dreadnaught, smacking straight into the side of REDMENACE’s mech, sending it reeling into the opposite wall. It slumps to the ground, an enormous indent in the steel plating behind it. The red eye fades, and when it goes completely black, we cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY THREE. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – DAY.

LIGHTSPEED is sitting in his chair impatiently tapping his finger.

LIGHTSPEED: What’s the status on the Atlantis…?

SENSORS OFFICER: They have just arrived sir.

A green blip on LIGHTSPEED’s holographic display confirms the statement. He nods and speaks to himself.

LIGHTSPEED: (Mumbling) Well…we’re here…where are you…?
As if to answer his prayers, his SENSORS OFFICER turns toward him in near-panic.

SENSORS OFFICER: Sir! Incoming jump signatures detected! Hostile configuration!

LIGHTSPEED: Launch all fighters, and inform the fleet to do so as well.

Suddenly, red blips begin appearing all over the screen, followed by several large green ones. LIGHTSPEED nods.

LIGHTSPEED: Inform all Hard Light vessels to change their IFF coding for all new friendly jump signatures to hostile, and do the same for us.

His SENSORS OFFICER nods, and LIGHTSPEED settles back into his seat, thinking out loud once again.

LIGHTSPEED: (Mumbles) Traitors…

Cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY FOUR. EXT. SPACE – DAY.

Masses of vessels are now lined up in a loose quasi-formation, ready to do battle. Hard Light Station hovers in the distance, beckoning to the warriors like an ancient Siren. The massive ships turn towards each other. A single torpedo lances out from one of the smaller vessels in the front. It grows nearer and nearer to the main vessel in the center of the fleet, when suddenly, hundreds of flack bursts explode around it, detonating it in space. As if a flare gun had been shot off, the battle was afoot, the massively outnumbered Hard Light forces engines roaring into life as they rocketed towards the enemy. Torpedoes and flack bursts light up the black sky as the battle begins. We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY FIVE. INT. CORSAIR’s COCKPIT – DAY.

We are greeted by the familiar green glow of the fighter cockpit, except now every system is alert and alive with activity. CORSAIR presses a few buttons and the instruments change slightly. He speaks into his radio.

CORSAIR: Alright everyone…line up, check your targets, and cover each other’s asses, and maybe some of us will get home alive.

CORSAIR flips a switch, and his instruments come alive with new data.

CORSAIR: Alpha One, weapons free and hot. All fighters – weapons are hot.

Suddenly, SINGH lets out a guttural battle cry and blasts forward, his tiny fighter rocketing past CORSAIR. CORSAIR smirks and chuckles, then flips the safety off his throttle lever, slamming it forward and rocketing after his wingman.

CORSAIR: Let’s rock and roll!

Cut to:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: neo_hermes on October 05, 2005, 12:10:34 am

oooo

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on October 05, 2005, 01:58:47 am

w000tage! Big battles galore! :D

Excellent work UT!


*w00tage at realizing he's a red shirt too! :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Mongoose on October 05, 2005, 09:49:56 am

Double w00tage at my Rambo-like mad combat skeelz! Turnsky, you owe me one :p

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on October 05, 2005, 02:22:04 pm

Sweet, I see big explosions comming,and Send the Traitors to Davey Jones Locker.:arr:

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on October 05, 2005, 05:09:32 pm

Brilliant as allways :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on October 05, 2005, 06:21:47 pm

What? Mech action and I wasn't even mentioned? Maybe I stayed on the Atlantis... whatever, it was a great battle scene. I'm eager to see how this plays out. :D

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on October 05, 2005, 06:30:18 pm

UT... you rock :) I love it man.

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: achtung on October 08, 2005, 08:51:28 pm

:yes:
Great work!

Title: A piece of fiction
Post by: icespeed on October 17, 2005, 08:28:18 pm

hi, wow it's been so long since i've been around i got confused reading that last one... i think it's time i looked at the whole script again, restart the addiction... but yeah it's still good, you still got it UT :)

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on November 17, 2005, 08:49:20 pm

Finally decided to read more of this and wow nice work UT..... :yes:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Nuclear1 on November 23, 2005, 02:18:40 pm

Excellent work, UT.

*bugs said writer again for a cameo*

*will accept being a red shirt to die and show how dangerous the n00b situation is*

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on November 23, 2005, 08:12:19 pm

I'll die too if need be. :lol:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: BlackDove on December 11, 2005, 05:30:14 pm

I never looked at this thread before today, and I'm still not sure I get what it's about, but reading the story, I see I'm in it, and I'm Scotty?

Well I guess there are worse things.

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on December 12, 2005, 06:15:26 am

UT is the Lord and Master of the HLP movie...Be glad you're Scotty - Scotty is cool :D

now, is there a next part coming?

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on December 12, 2005, 10:21:26 pm

School sucks. I've got four papers due by monday, a quiz tommorrow, a test wed, and midterms next week. But I still love you all :p
(BTW, this is a good three pages in word, why it's so short looking here, I don't know. Also, what happened to my formatting from before? What's with all the question marks? :()

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY SIX. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS FORUMS – DAY.

We open to see mass carnage, bodies are strewn everywhere, and still the noob onslaught remains at full strength. Forumites are cut down on both sides as a massive battle wages in the background. WEATHEROP leaps into the screen, slicing a noob in two with an automatic burst from his assault rifle. Two noobs gang up on him, and one grabs his weapon, wrenching it from his hands and using as a billy-club, swinging it in a wild uppercut, catching WEATHEROP in the chin, sending him flipping over and over. With cat like reflexes he slams down on the deck, his heavy boots ringing out in a loud thunk. Screaming, he charges the noob, catching him in the gut, but the other grabs him around his waste and wrestles him to the ground. The noob rears up over top of WEATHEROP, a crudely fashioned metal club set to split his skull in twain, when suddenly his entire upper torso disintegrates, spraying WEATHEROP with blood. He rolls over just in time to see NUCLEAR1 stab the other noob in the gut with his baton, then deliver three shots to his chest to finish him off. WEATHEROP’s weapon clatters to the floor, and NUCLEAR1 picks it up, tossing it to his comrade. When he catches it, we cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN. EXT. SPACE COMBAT ZONE – DAY.

The space battle is raging in full swing, as thousands of capital ships duke it out in a frenzy to destroy. We cut to the GRANDEUR as she sails through the fray, weapon fire going off in all directions. She is at the tip of the spear, and is the very first vessel to encounter the enemy formations. Cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY EIGHT. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE – DAY.

Warning lights and claxons are blaring obnoxiously as the crew struggles to remain at their positions, explosions rocking the ship and lighting up the faces of the combatants.

LIGHTSPEED: One hundred eighty degree continuous X rotation! Fire all weaponry in a zero zero spread pattern!

We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWENTY NINE. EXT. SPACE COMBAT ZONE – DAY.

The GRANDEUR lurches violently to one side as her weaponry blares into life. Beam cannons lance from her hull in all directions. A snapshot slices cleanly through an enemy vessel, and the two halves buckle and split apart, ending their lives in twin colossal explosions. Gunfire whips incoherently about as the massive vessel rolls into battle, her escort fighters flying past at breakneck speeds. We follow one of them as it rips into an enemy fighter gaggle, the engines screaming in our ears. The enemy fighters zoom past, and the bright blue/grey Hard Light fighters wheel about, pivoting on their backs, answering the enemy with a spray of cannon fire. We whip around underneath it, following it as the enemy fighters vainly attempt to flee, shell casings spewing from underneath the fighter, smacking up against the camera and flicking off into space. Suddenly, strikes, one strike, two strikes, one dead center, and the enemy ship explodes. The camera rears up just in time to see two more fighters coming out of the sun, straight on our hero. Their bullets rip into the doomed fighter, exploding it in a colossal fireball as the two fighters blaze through it, smoke and flame streaming from their leading edges. Cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY. INT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX – DAY.

The ship is being rocked back and forth by explosions and flak. Through the cockpit we see a massive Battlecruiser looming ahead of us, her defensive weapons in full swing. A transport to the right takes a hit and the entire center section disintegrates, leaving two stubby wings to fly forward in flames. Another transport to the left takes a brutal hit to the starboard engine, sending it spinning wildly. DRAGONCLAW and GRUG duck instinticvly and DRAGONCLAW puts the massive spacecraft into a snap dive to avoid the whirling piece of debris – it whips over the top of their transport and smashes into another transport, the two of them exploding in a massive explosion.

GRUG: ****ing hell!

DRAGONCLAW: Keep your eyes on the systems! I don’t want to loose another hydraulic line!

GRUG nods, plain fear showing in his face. DRAGONCLAW is no different, and perspiration trickles down the sides of his head and runs over his oxygen mask – his breathing is alarmingly quick. He speaks loudly into a microphone, and his oxygen tube jostles as he does so.

DRAGONCLAW: Thirty seconds!

We cut to the back of the transport – JETMECH_JR. is holding onto a wildly swaying support beam, and his marines are all desperately trying to remain upright. An explosion comes particularly near and he is nearly chucked into a wall, but his gaze, along with those of his comrades, remains fixed on the large red and green lights over top of the pilot’s cabin entrance. The light is a blaring obnoxious red.

DRAGONCLAW: Twenty seconds!

Suddenly, a massive bang rocks the ship, and it reel off to one side sharply. We cut up to the cockpit, where GRUG and DRAGONCLAW are trying to hold the craft under control.

GRUG: We’re hit, we’re hit! We’re going down!

DRAGONCLAW whips his head around and looks back into the cargo bay behind him.

DRAGONCLAW: Hold on to something! We’re gonna crash!

The marines react with lightning speed, and rapidly brace themselves for the impact, JETMECH_JR. included. We cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE. EXT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX – DAY.

Flame is rearing up from the port engine, and it threatens to explode at any minute. Just below the spinning craft is the Battlecruiser, her massive deck guns aimed at targets off screen and firing rapidly, the cannons shaking everything in the area, including us. We see several transports off to the sides, some going down in flames, some exploding, some making perfect descents – we cut to behind our transport and see the Battlecruiser looming bigger and bigger. From the deck the craft is only a few feet away, looking to hit with a lethal impact, when suddenly, a mere foot from the deck, the reverse thrusters blare into being; the transport whips over onto her side and her port wing smashes into the deck, crumpling immediately, the engine bursting into flame as it skids past us, sparks flying from the deck as it rends a swath of destruction down the massive metal landscape. As it slowly comes to a halt, we cut to:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on December 12, 2005, 10:41:52 pm

W00t! N00b killers. :lol:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on December 12, 2005, 11:24:36 pm

wohoo!!

Wait...did I die on that exploding fighter? Darn if I did! For HLP! Death to the n00bs!

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on December 13, 2005, 02:40:05 pm

Quote from: Unknown Target on December 12, 2005, 10:21:26 pm

The marines react with lightning speed, and quickly buckle themselves in

:wtf: Why weren't they buckled in in the first place?

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Sandwich on December 14, 2005, 11:34:15 am

Quote from: Unknown Target on December 12, 2005, 10:21:26 pm

(BTW, this is a good three pages in word, why it's so short looking here, I don't know. Also, what happened to my formatting from before? What's with all the question marks? :()

They're both related problems. Word is using characters beyond the basic charset generally used. Therefore, your dashes are very likely actual dashes, not minus signs. Your apostrophes are also very likey to be apostrophes, not single quotes enlisted for the purpose of being apostrophes. These "enhanced" characters aren't part of the standard charset (nor the standard keyboard), and therefore somewhere along the line of DB backup-restore-backup-restore, some program or another didn't support the enhanced characters and substituted a question mark for those chars it didn't recognize.

The moral of the story is this: Don't use MS Word for material intended for online publication. :)

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on December 14, 2005, 06:26:30 pm

Woohoo, finally!! Love it, keep it coming, good luck with the school stuff.

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: oohal on December 25, 2005, 08:36:42 am

I can see how this is going to end:

[Mr Smart] Hand over control of FS2 or i'll destroy HLP station, i've already taken game warden, sector game and GTD Bastion is soon to fall
[Shrike] HA, you think your army of noobs and fleet of battle cruisers will stop me, well watch as your battle cruiser fleet is wiped out by amazon drones carrying BReds.
[Mr Smart] What! How is this possible!
[Shrike] table hacks, MWHAHAHAHA
[Mr Smart] NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


:P

-oohal

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Unknown Target on December 31, 2005, 11:10:20 am

Ow, wow, I need to write more, I'm losing my touch. What do you guys think? :D
And trust me oohal, that's not going to happen :D
Corsair, hope this answers your question :)
EDIT: I changed Trashman to someone else; I forgot that I put him in previously. Guys, I'm only human, and there's a lot of people to include; if it happens and I switch your roles up, please let me know (or let me know if you want a cameo) :D Thanks!

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS FORUMS – DAY.

The battle is not going well; hundreds of thousands of bodies are piled on top of each other, in some places they are two or three corspes deep. Blood runs across the floor like a wash of pain, drowning the dead faces of those on the ground in the red liquid. Backed into a corner are the desperate forum members. A hastily erected barricade made from destroyed mechs, overturned chairs, and dead bodies, is all that protects them from the onrushing noob horde. Thousands of them clamber of the walls, trying desperately to get at their foes within, and gunfire is constant. We cut to WEATHEROP and NUCLEAR1, the latter bleeding from a large gash in his forehead. WEATHEROP is trying to slap a bandage across it while NUCLEAR1 keeps an eye on the wall, letting loose a three round burst every few seconds, which is immediately followed by a blood-curdling cry from the target. WEATHEROP, looking up from the bloody mess, spies KOSH, hunkered behind a raggedy old couch, sporadically laying down supressing fire.

WEATHEROP: Kosh!

KOSH doesn't respond, and lets loose another volley, followed by a chorus of screams. WEATHEROP, still holding the bandage in place with his left hand, picks up a chunk of rock and chucks it at KOSH to get his attention; it works, and KOSH wheels around, bringing his gun to bear right on WEATHEROP's forehead. WEATHEROP's eyes bulge and he ducks, just in time to see a stream of leaden birdies rip through what was almost his head. Gripping his helmet in one hand, head and bandage in the other, he screams at KOSH.

WEATHEROP: Mother****! Watch your fire you skittish bastard!

KOSH looks sheepishly at WEATHEROP, then lets loose a volley just as a noob breaches the perimeter and is about to leap onto another forum member.

WEATHEROP: Kosh!

KOSH: What?

WEATHEROP: Where's the backup?

KOSH: I -

A noob leaps into the air, flying like a bird over the barricade, heading straight for KOSH  - just as he is about to hit, he is immediately cut in half by a stream of bullets. The duo whip their heads around to see NUCLEAR1's smoking barrel.

NUCLEAR1: I don't think it really matters at this point, do you?

As the trio return to the fight, we cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE. EXT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX - DAY.

The transport is now a twisted, smoking metal wreck, lying on the surface. A massive space battle rages overhead; we cut inside.

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FOUR. INT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX - DAY.

We start in the cockpit; the room is in shambles, the windscreen is broken, the entire area depressurized. GRUG and DRAGONCLAW hang limply from their harnesses, lifeless and dead. We move back; several marines are dead, a bloody mess on the wall is all that remains of one that forgot to pressurize his suit. JETMECH_JR., crawls from underneath some wreckage, leaning back against a broken piece of equipment. We hear his breathing; it's heavy and garbled through the microphone. He leans his head back, closing his eyes, fighting to stay conscious - blood trickles from a large gash on his forehead.

JETMECH_JR.: (Panting) Who's...who's...

He swallows hard to wake himself up.

JETMECH_JR.: Who's hurt?

Silence on the microphone. He repeats.

JETMECH_JR.: Marines, status report.

He stumbles to his feet. Two or three groans acknowledge him.

JETMECH_JR.: Jetmech_Jr. to pilot...

No response. He waits a few seconds, then tries again.

JETMECH_JR.: Jetmech_JR. to copilot...

He peers through a shattered railing up to the cabin, and asses the situation. Turning around, he sets to work getting whatever is left of his squad. We cut back to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS FORUMS - DAY.

The battle is much as we left it; the forumites are pinned down, fighting for their lives, not willing to give even an inch. Bullets are flying every which way, men and women are being cut into ribbons by the hail of lead. Suddenly in one corner of the barricade, an explosion rips through, sending debris and bodies every which way. Through the massive hole steps a noob juggernaught - the forum members start to fire, their small arms pinging harmlessly off the massive exoskeleton. The machine's massive arm raises, ready to fire - the end is night; we cut to several faces to see their reactions, then to below the arm, and just in front of it. Out of nowhere, an explosion erupts on the cieling, and the dim lights above are momentarily blotted out by a massive falling shape, closing rapidly - just as the beam cannon is about to fire, a giant Hard Light mech crashes down into the weapon, smashing it underneath it's massive feet - pulling an arm back, the HLP Mech rips into the skull of the enemy machine, sending it flying backwards into a wall, it's arm still stamped underfoot. The giant mech turns around, and on a loudspeaker blares DARK_4CE's voice in a nonchalant, braggart tone.

DARK_4CE: Did somebody call for a...super hero?

A cheer erupts from the remaining forum members, and several more explosions rock the area, as four more collossal mechs drop from the cieling - two troop transports sail through the holes, smashing into the barricade, sending the noobs that were crawling on it scattering. The dropships disgorge their troops, who set up a perimeter of hellfire, laying down a carpet of bullets in all directions. As the mechs begin their work on the enemy juggernaughts, we see a largish body dart from one of the ships, his jacket swirling in the wind. He approaches SHRIKE, head low to avoid the jet wash, and shouting just to be heard above it - it is UBERMETROID.

UBERMETROID: Sir! We're here to get you and your troops out of here!

SHRIKE shakes his head viguorsly.

SHRIKE: We can't! We have to lock the forums so these things can't spread!

UBERMETROID: (shakes head) I'm not too sure about that sir!

SHRIKE: If we don't lock the forums, we'll lose the station! We need to get to the control room! There's an board update feature there, if we hit that switch, all the forums will automatically be put under lockdown!

UBERMETROID: Don't you guys have problems getting that to, you know, turn off?

SHRIKE laughs and slaps his hand across UBERMETROID's back.

SHRIKE: I don't think that really matters now, do you?

UBERMETROID: I guess not sir!

SHRIKE: Good! Now get these people on these ships, and let's get our asses out of here!

As the group begins to retreat, we cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX. EXT. SPACE COMBAT ZONE - DAY.

The battle is still raging strong, with no sign of letup. Massive Battlecruiser hulks drift, burning brightly against the black sky behind them; Hard Light destroyers explode in a series of continuous, rapid explosions. We fly throug the battle, bullets flying back and forth, torpedoes ripping up the battlefield as they criss cross in flight. A Hard Light destroyer slowly drifts in front of us, flames licking at her deck as she spirals in an unctontrolable spin. Suddenly, a massive explosion shreds her bow, the shockwave traveling in a straight line down her deck plating, rippping her in two and finishing her with one final explosion. The camera shakes from the shockwave, just as three Wing Commander fighters in hot persuit of a Hard Light ship blast past us. We follow the quartet as they fly through space, dodging and ducking under hulks - one of the fighters nicks a torpedo and the duo are sent into unctontrollable spins, the torpedo curving sharply into a hulking bit of debree, the fighter spinning into space, to be pounced on by two Hard Light fighters. The enemy fighters on the tail of the Hard Light craft open fire with their cannons, and we cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN. INT. CORSAIR'S COCKPIT - DAY.

Warning sirens are blaring and red lights are flashing as CORSAIR struggles to keep his stampeding mount under control - tracer fire whips past his cockpit, one of them penetrates his canopy and the entire craft bucks upward from the decompression. The bullet buries itself in one of CORSAIRs MFDs, sending a shower of sparks into CORSAIR's face. He instinctively pulls back, the fighter sailing upwards, easy meat for his enemy; realizing his mistake, he whips it around and flies it backwards, the enemy closing just a few hundred feet, their weapons blazing, sending crimson death flying to their opponent. CORSAIR jets straight down and noses his craft downward, his burners going at full speed - he uses the extra seconds to grab a small suction device and plasters it to the window to stop the air loss, then flips around - the targeting reticle beeps around the enemy for a few seconds before finally turning bright red - we cut to the trigger as he yanks it back, then back to the enemy on his windscreen as he is torn into shreds, large chunks flying every which way - he rears into his fellow pilot, who deftly jets up and over him, rolling to the other side, his wingman exploding behind him - this pilot is good. Cut to:

SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT. EXT. THE CHASE - DAY.

CORSAIR can't get a shot off in time before the CIC pilot opens fire on him - he's forced to flip his spacecraft over on it's back and fly for cover; he spies a burning Battlecruiser just ahead and roars towards it, we're only a few feet from his cockpit as tracers rip past, bullets slicing through the thin aluminum plating - the Battlecruiser is getting closer, closer - there, a huge hole had been ripped open by a torpedo hit, and the space beyond is shining through the mangled wreck - CORSAIR points his craft downward, his momentum still carying him forward, before he lets his engines off their leashes and dives through the smouldering wreckage, the enemy pilot close in tow. Weaving back and forth, flaming debri bounces off his craft, as suited workers fight the fires all around them. Dipping in and out, the duo skillfully navigate the twisted, mangled spars of the Battlecruiser, CORSAIR gaining a slight lead. He bursts through the other side first, in a shower of sparks, his opponnent not far behind. A nanosecond passes between the departures, but when the CIC pilot pops out the other side, he is greeted with empty space; until CORSAIR opens the throttle on
his engines and blasts off the exterior hull of the Battlecruiser right onto the enemy's
six; he fires, slicing off one entire engine section of the enemy fighter, sending him into
a death spiral, flames eating away at his fuel tank. A flash of light and small rocket
motors flare into life, sending the enemy pilot up and away from his stricken craft, which
explodes a few moments later. Circling the pod, CORSAIR waggles his wings, and jets back off
to the battlefield; we cut to:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Charismatic on December 31, 2005, 01:34:02 pm

 Yay yay yay good job!

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Nuclear1 on December 31, 2005, 01:41:22 pm

Great work as usual. :) (Hooray for cameos! :D )

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Corsair on December 31, 2005, 01:52:48 pm

Exactly what nuclear1 said. It's pretty much awesome... you haven't lost your touch at all UT. :)

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Singh on December 31, 2005, 02:02:46 pm

Kick. Ass.

That is all :D

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Dark_4ce on December 31, 2005, 04:24:50 pm

wow... Simply wow. I've finally finished reading all the stuff I've missed since I was gone, and its just... epic! And thanks for the great cameo btw. Brought a big smile to my face. :D

As always, Keep up the great work.  :yes:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on December 31, 2005, 05:51:28 pm

Thank me.. It was my name there but I talked UT into changing it - since I was a fighter pilot in one of the earlier posts, turning me into a mecha pilot just seemed like a stretch.....Not that I mind a heroic entry as I will get one...later :D

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: WeatherOp on December 31, 2005, 06:01:21 pm

Very Nice, Allthough I do not curse. :p

Grug, Dragonclaw and who or what that lifeless mess was, will be remembered.

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: redsniper on January 03, 2006, 05:11:27 pm

:yes: Awesome. I like it as usual. I'm just wondering, whatever happened to me? Did I die? I was hoping to kick some butt in my mech. :cool:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Jetmech Jr. on January 18, 2006, 07:33:22 am

Ach, just got back to reading this. Fantastic, as always.

Although I think I got lost. Was our transport one of the good guys?

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Falcon on January 19, 2006, 05:32:53 am

Good read, good job, can't wait for the rest. :yes:

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: TrashMan on January 19, 2006, 07:50:19 am

UT is busy writing missions for hte HLP movie campaign :D

Title: Re: A piece of fiction
Post by: Goober5000 on February 21, 2006, 12:03:44 pm

Unstickying for lack of updates.