Danny A

Hello all,

I'm new to the site and the fiction writing scene. But I won't get into that now. Instead, please review the short story below. I didn't put it in the short story forum because I'm not worried about entertianing anyone with my writing, at least not yet. I just want some critques so I can make the following piece better, and, of course, improve my overall writing skill. So, again, no restrains required here, tough reviewers!




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Breaking through the clouds, leaving outdents in them that resembled long, jagged christmas trees, Rodian and his squad of angels flue fast and hard to their destination. Pulling beside his captain, an angel, who's figure was now highly motion blurred, asked, "Do you think we'll make it, sir?"

With a dark, insidious glare directed at his young subordinate, Rodian made clear he didn't want to answer the question as he firmly replied, "We're going to be hard pressed this time..."

Taking his captain's cue to shut up and focus, the angel drifted back towards the rest of the party, which numbered fifteen in all: five angels positioned behind Rodian, three angels neatly side-by-side-by-side ten yards to Rodian's left, and the final four angels in similar position ten yards to Rodian's right; standard high speed flight formation for a team this size.

As the team drew closer to the ground, small spots of yellow filled the air beneath them. It was night, but it was clear to Rodian and his team that the yellow wasn't from any type of light. They were dealing with what must have been one hundred thousand demons, each of them now gazing upon them with dark yellow eyes.

Rodian grimaced at the number of them. His battalion wasn't fit to handle this. His men all looked his way as they drew closer to the masses, seeing if he was committed - crazy - enough to send them flying through the hordes of them.

Checking the angels on his left, glancing to those positioned on his right, Rodian unsheathed his sword, held it high, and said, "There are some of God's men staring down hell's fury tonight. If it means we meet our end to save only one of them, it was a life well lived," he paused to regain the structure in his commanding voice, the shouted, "Forward!"

-------

Beneath the teaming hordes of hell's guardians, in the basement levels of Trump National Stadium, a crew of men travelled by elevator to the bottom floor of the structure.

With them, a massive explosive capable of destroying a city block.

As the elevator reached the bottom floor, the door opened and just outside of it was John O'Brian, head of security.

He sighed as he motioned for them to move the device out of the elevator and through the gate, which was now unmanned.

Maholuk Merik, the crew's leader, untucked a gun from his belt and proceeded to forcefully place it under John's chin. "If there is a sole on the other side of that gate ..." Maholuk said, implying the rest through the hatred in his eyes.

John calmly raised his right hand and closed his eyes, "There is no one. It's clear."

Maholuk took the gun from under John's chin and waved it forward, signaling his men to check out the dark, supposedly empty, storage room behind the chain linked gate. They charged in, guns loaded and ready to commence a fire fight at any second.

After a minute, a voice cried, "Clear!"

Maholuk shoved John aside and signaled the rest of his men to move the explosive device into the room. "My men upstairs will make sure you're compensated for your work," Maholuk said in a tone that made John question the validity of the statement.

"Listen!" John began, "I worked my ass off to set this up for you guys. I swear, if you ..."

"You'll get your money," Maholuk interrupted. "My men nor I will kill you."

John took one last look at Maholuk and walked into the elevator. He was satisfied that his life was safe. Finally he could live the life of luxury he so desperately desired. Sure, he didn't like the thought of everyone in the stadium being killed, but each one of them would day some day. Better he got rich off of it then them dying without yielding a penny to anyone.

Upon John's departure, Maholuk quickly entered the storage room. During his youth, Maholuk would have double-crossed swine like John O'Brian without thinking twice; however, he no longer cared about oppressing insignificant individuals. Now, at the age of forty-five, he was only concerned about completed the mission: the destruction of this building.

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At field level, the New York Giants, the city's football team, were playing their regular-season finale. The Giants had to win to make the illustrious playoffs; consequently, the fans were on edge, a dole, frenzied edge only caused by alcoholic beverage. "Go, G-Men!" They screamed.

With the game nearing its end, star running-back Gary Colvin took the field with poise only seen in the greatest players. He would be the hero these fans were looking for, at least that's what he thought while signaling them through inverted arm flapping motions to cheer their heads off.

The coaches all motioned with their own signals to the players as well. Watch the left-tackle, cover that over paid wide-receiver, don't screw this up!

With this next series of plays, a season would end, people would go broke, players would lose their very lively hood if failure were the outcome. Yup, the next four minutes and thirty seconds was a life or death situation, and in more ways then the drunken fans could ever imagine.

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With a quick, sweeping dodge right, a twist that left him disorientated for a second, and a full fledged barrel role that, had he been human, would have left him without appetite for weeks, Rodian could finally see the stadium below, shaking due to the frenzied excitement being generated by the fanatics. Am I too late? Do they know a bomb is about to kill them? No, it seems that one of the teams did something good. So trivial, why would any of God's men ever attend something so ... trivial? Rodian thought to himself.

While staring at the humans in wonder, demons penetrated Rodian's wings with their poisonous talons. He shrieked through the night sky in pain. Oh great, another barrel role. But he had no choice, chaotic movement was the only way to get these damned entities away, especially since Rodian and his angels were outnumbered fifteen-thousand to one. Strike that, two of his men were struck down, twenty-thousand to one.

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Maholuk patiently watched his younger brother, Fyek, work feverishly on the explosive they so cautiously transported inside the stadium.

These brothers-in-arms were remnants of a war torn nation; quintessentially, avengers. Their mission was simple: the destruction of Trump Stadium, the world's largest, most expensive, and glorious athletic structure in the world. In the basement level of the structure, the bomb would generate enough explosive force to each part of the stadium for it to be completely demolished.

And although they were not aware of the demonic help they were receiving above, they were confident that they would blow this monument to hell, along with the one-hundred-thousand people now inhabiting its lush confines.

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The official ran towards the middle of the field. He signaled a catch! The fans let out a huge amount of jubilation. If the receiving didn't catch the ball, the game would have ended along with the Giant's season.

With two minutes left in the game, the Giants had to give the ball to Gary Colvin, their play maker. "Strong I formation. Give it to Colvin, Cooper!" the head coach told his quarterback over the head phone.

This was it, the whole season rode on one play. The crowd stood to their feet as Brian Cooper, the team's quarterback, lined up and yelled, "Hike!"

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He took a hard slash through his leg, followed by a punch to the torso, sending him flying out of the pile of demons. Now floating about like a rag doll, Rodian was losing all hope of prevailing in this situation. He must have been the last angel still alive.

The mass of demons didn't rush towards Rodian to finish him off, however. This made no sense. Surely these dogs couldn't resist putting an angel out of his messery. Yet they did, or did they...

"HAAAAAAYAAAAAAAA!" came a loud shout from the middle of the demonic pile.

Rodian's eyes widened. Good Lord, he couldn't believe it. Fighting the demons with everything they had were Joshua and Rykenin, two angels Rodian had served with for centuries. "For the Lamb!" they cried.

That was it, the opening he had been looking for finally came. In the mist of wild fighting, demons, especially low ranking ones like these, lose consciousness of their surroundings. And, my God, by doing that here they left a hole right in the middle of their barricade.

The fastest angel in heaven wasn't about to let this opportunity pass. Spreading his wings, regaining the fire that had made him captain of his squad, Rodian shot towards Trump National Stadium like a guard dog towards a trespasser's throat; ferocity unmatched.

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By motioning his hand forward, Merik hit the button that started the countdown for the explosive. The clock showed precisely one minute.

With the device having undergone a great deal of transportation, there was always an off chance that it may not work. Should the bomb malfunction, the avengers stood around it with loaded pistols. None of them talked, or even acknowledged one another's presence anymore, they were ready to die. Whatever the case, this was their grave, whether the bomb took everyone, or they shot themselves dead. Living with failure wasn't an option.

Thirty seconds left.

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He burst through the first wave of defenders. The crowd cheered louder and louder as Gary made his way towards the endzone. One more man to beat...

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The hole was closing in around him fast, much faster then he had expected. Rodian was submerged in a tunnel of demons, a tunnel that got smaller with each passing second. At the end of the tunnel, Trump National Stadium was well lighted and full of energy.

This was as far as he could get. Demons lunging for Rodian's arms, feet and wings on every side, he threw his sword at the stadium. "God, please!" he cried.

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Touchdown! The Giants win the game. Gary scores as time expires on a thirty-five yard touchdown run. Pandemonium rained supreme amongst the fans.

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They all held Rodian. Thousands upon thousands of demons held Rodian in their arms. They didn't attack him, didn't hurt him, hell, they didn't even look at him. Each one of them was now fixated on the stadium. If it was going to blow, it was going to happen now.

Twelve shots were fired. Muffled to human ears due to the noise of the crowd, but heard well and clear by the angels and demons.

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In the bows of the grandest athletic structure ever built, twelve men laid dead, all of which shot in the head.

Shimmering in the center of them all was Rodian's sword. It had hit its target: the bomb.

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Afraid that any show of his emotions might lead to being torn limb from limb by the awe struck demons, Rodian remained quiet as the demon's grip unconsciously slide off him. He looked up to see the same thing happening to Joshua and Rykenin, who were even squinting with the anticipation of sharp claws tearing them into oblivion.

After a few moments, the angels decided to slowly make their way towards the heavens. Better they move now and risk being killed, then wait until the demons realize what has happened and want revenge, which meant certain death.

Amazingly, they made their way through. As they reached the clouds, Rodian looked back at the stadium. The crowd was chanting Gary, Gary, Gary as the running-back kneeled down and pointed towards the heavens, praying, "Thank you for putting the ball in my hands and making me the hero, God!"

Rodian had to smile as he said, "Right..."


---The End---



Quick after word: the premise of the story is that those that do the most work, often go unnoticed. How do you think that message is convayed? Also, forgive me if the story sounds a bit generic with the whole terrorist stuff. I just wanted to get a piece of my writing out there so I can build off the critiques. Thanks.

WriterJohnB

My comments are at the end, JohnB

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http://www.johnbushore.com

Danny A

Thank you, JohnB. Your comments are very much appreciated. However, what do you mean by "stiff" writing?