Soul's Grip (group story, sci-fi) - WritingForums.com - Writing Forums, Writing Challenges, Critiques and Help for Writers

Rahvin · 12-27-2007, 05:29 PM

Okay, this is slightly different to your average story. It's sort of like a cross between an RPG and a novel (ie, a novel with several writers, each writing from the perspective of a different character). As it's a proper story, it doesn't belong in the RPG section (as those are more ongoing things, and they generally have way too many characters and no real plot), and as it's going to be long, I put it in here instead. The writers are Mr Write, Nefieslab, and I. See what you think!

Soul's Grip

Part 1

The wind howled through the towers and habitation blocks, a low, mournful dirge that whipped and bit at the soldiers of the 7th Platoon as they sought shelter. Light rain fell from the darkening sky, soaking the soldiers, and drawing a constant series of complaints.

Michael walked at the head of the 7th, his dark grey uniform sodden and heavy. His boots squelched with every step. His attention never left the bio-detector in his hand. He stared down at it, watching for any returns other than the 7th.

“Major Jaeger?” said Falkor, beside him.

“Yes?” replied Michael, his attention still on the bio-detector.

“It’s nearly full dark, sir. We should get under cover.”

Michael looked up, scanning the sky. “Maybe,” he said. “We’ve still got another hour before they can come for us.”

“Sir,” protested Falkor, “we may have another hour before full dark, but we should use that to find some good cover. The Hybrids will already be out, and I don’t look forward to fighting a running battle in these conditions.”

Michael sighed in frustration. “Fine, Captain. Get some men together and send them out in front to scout out any likely places. Preferably somewhere dry.”

“Yes sir,” said Falkor. “Third Squad!”

The twenty soldiers of the third squad worked their way up the column, until they were just behind Michael and Falkor. “Sirs?” asked their sergeant, a tall man with short-cropped red hair and craggy features. His voice was low and rough.

“It’s your turn to scout,” said Falkor. “Find us somewhere dry and defensible to weather the night.”

“Yes sir,” saluted the sergeant, and the squad set off at a jog, splitting into fours as they dispersed down the wide streets. They disappeared into the mist almost instantly.

No, though Michael, these conditions are not good for combat.

What rankled him was that weather like this could never have appeared spontaneously, before the War. The great facilities of the Atmospheric Manipulator Constructs – or weather factories, as they were more commonly known – had been deliberately destroyed by the enemy, even after the city’s population had died. Michael didn’t know why they had done it, and he didn’t want to know. To have information like that would be to get further inside the enemy’s head than he ever wanted to. He didn’t need to know their motivations to kill them.

The platoon marched steadily down the street, keeping to the left of the row of splintered, dead trees that ran through the center of the road. The buildings to either side were still pristine. Great, stylised shapes swept up into the sky either side, silvered metal and white stone curving gracefully into organic forms. The machinery that kept the buildings upright despite their shapes and lack of balance had been passed over, and the forest of gigantic animal and human shapes remained, an uninhabited reminder of what society had been reduced to.

After a quarter of an hour of silent marching, the scouts materialised from the mist in front of them. Their sergeant stepped forward from his men, and waited for Michael to reach him. He saluted.

Michael returned the salute. “You’ve found somewhere?”

“Yes, Major. A habitation spire, old-style contruction, with a reinforced base and thick walls.” He twisted slightly, pointing behind him. “We’ve dropped a marker near to it.”

“Near to it?” asked Falkor. “Why not in it?”

“There was a pack of Hybrids in the area, Captain Falkor. We got as close as we were able to, undetected, and dropped the marker.”

“How many were there? Why didn’t you just kill them?” asked Michael. The Hybrids were scum, twisted remnants of humans. They didn’t deserve life.

“With respect, sir, I wasn’t confident that the shots would not alert more Hybrids to our presence. I thought it better to inform you first, before any irreversible actions were made.”

Michael gave an annoyed nod. “Fine, Sergeant. Good work. Rejoin the column.” He turned to Falkor as the sergeant led his squad back into the rest of the platoon. “Get them moving,” he ordered.

Falkor threw a weary salute. “Sir.” He pulled out his radio, and spoke into it, his head bent down to its microphone. “7th Platoon, we’ve got shelter up ahead. Get moving towards the beacon on your squad’s tracker, and follow the Major.”

The platoon set off at a steady, ground-eating pace down the street. They turned off the main street after a few dozen meters, heading down a slightly narrower access road between two buildings. Michael barely noticed the route.

His bio-detector had picked up faint life signs up ahead. The weak grey shape slowly strengthened as the 7th approached, resolving into individual blips as Michael zoomed in on them. A moment later, and the bio-detector had accumulated enough information to mark them as Hybrids, and the grey blips turned red.

He rounded a curving building, and saw the marker that the scouts had dropped. The small device – no larger than a fingernail – had been placed on the ground, just before the wall of a large spire, and a beam of blue light shone upwards from it, eye-hurtingly bright.

When they had first been developed, the United Defence Force higher-ups had been paranoid about their usage giving away troop positions and the like. Everyone who had actually fought on the front lines – or what passed for them, given the nature of the enemy – already knew that their opponents placed no significance on light or even objects. Life was all they saw, and everything else was nothing to them.

Michael stooped and picked up the marker, thumbing its deactivation stud as he did so. The light died, and he walked cautiously towards the corner of the spire. He slipped the marker into a pocket, and unclipped his rifle from his back, bringing it up to his chest.

“This is the place, Major,” said the sergeant quietly. He had his rifle out as well.

Michael said nothing, and took a cautious glance around the corner. A half-dozen Hybrids prowled the street, stalking aimlessly across the biocrete road. They had been human, once. Now, they were monsters, their souls consumed and their minds shredded. Corruption wracked their bodies, twisting them into beasts.

Their leathery skin was pitch black, and tougher than UDF body armour. Bony spines broke through across their limbs and backs like knives, and their hands had become little more than claws, elongated, triple-jointed fingers suitable for nothing more than rending and tearing. Their jaws were distended, filled with hundreds of needle-like teeth. Large, black eyes stared wildly out from their misshapen skulls.

Michael ducked back round the spire. He looked at Falkor and the sergeant. “There’s six of them ahead, in front of the building. Falkor, spread the men out around, semicircular containment, but make sure to keep at least twenty meters away from the road. We can’t let them smell us.” He waited for Falkor’s nod. “Right. I’ll give the signal over the radio when we’re ready.”

Falkor turned away, his radio rising to his mouth as he began issuing orders. The men got on better with Falkor, so Michael let the Captain sort out his own platoon. The other Captains – back in the company’s main camp – did the same. Michael had too much of a reputation for ruthlessness for the soldiery to feel comfortable around him. They just didn’t like being around the man that would more than likely send them to their deaths.

“Sergeant,” said Michael.

“Sir?”

“You and your squad are with me here. We’re going straight up the center, so make sure your men know what we’re facing. Make sure they’ve got solid rounds loaded. The new toxics won’t do squat to Hybrids.”

“Yes sir,” said the sergeant, and walked quickly back to his squad.

“Platoon in position, Major,” came Falkor’s voice through the radio.

“Clear for fire in thirty seconds from mark,” replied Michael. “Mark.”

He counted down the seconds in his head while he watched them flicker on the HUD of his helmet visor. He felt calm, collected. That would never last. It never did. Once he got into combat, the blood and the adrenaline took over.

And then the numbers flicked down to zero. Michael managed to be first round the corner, first to train his sights on the Hybrids. First to get a shot off. The heavy bullet cracked out from the barrel of his rifle, and hammered into the closest Hybrid’s shoulder. The creature was knocked onto its side by the impact, shredded flesh and dark blood flying into the air.

It screeched, and clawed its way to its feet, the wound in its shoulder nothing but a minor irritation. Then it was scythed from its feet, along with the other five Hybrids, by the massed crossfire of the 7th Platoon. The sound was deafening; two hundred rifles firing almost as one, and the auto-reactive sound dampers in his helmet barely managed to keep the sound below deafening.

After the volley had ceased, the Hybrids lay in the street, ripped to shreds by the shots. Their bodies had been torn apart, thick skins no protection against the sheer number of impacts. The street was spattered with thick, dark blood and viscera. Michael resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at the stench that was already rising from the corpses.

“Okay platoon,” he called into the radio, “get going; inside that building.”

Gabriel Gray · 12-27-2007, 05:58 PM

Interesting, and i don't normally go for these kind of stories, or at least i think i don't.

only a few problems, well for me: the eye-hurtingly bright, just sounded wrong, like it really shouldn't of been there.

also the 'no these arent good conditions' sounded a bit stale, bar that pretty damn intriguing.

Rahvin · 12-28-2007, 07:18 AM

Thanks, Gabriel. I sort of see what you mean about those two parts. I'll have a look through, and see if I can do anything. Cheers!

Shreyass · 12-31-2007, 02:36 AM

I liked it. The conversation is realistic and you've fleshed out the character quite while in a pretty short excerpt. Nice.

Rahvin · 12-31-2007, 09:44 AM

Thanks. Shreyass. I always worry about giving too much away too early. That, or not giving enough away, and leaving the reader completely in the dark...

Gabriel Gray · 12-31-2007, 01:31 PM

More to come?

Rahvin · 12-31-2007, 05:23 PM

From Write next, then Nef, then me, then Write, then Nef, etc etc, continue to completetion.

Vee · 01-01-2008, 03:05 AM

I read the comments before I read the piece.

On the readthrough I did not particularly notice "eye-hurtingly bright" standout, however I do agree with Sylar - I mean Gabriel on that particularly phrase.

Overall it was a nice science-fiction piece.

Rahvin · 01-01-2008, 09:29 AM

Thanks, Vee. Glad you liked it. More will be up when I manage to find the other writers...

Gabriel Gray · 01-01-2008, 12:50 PM

I admit i read it once, then scanned a few times to find it again. Wasn't anything important, just thought it was out of place.

Eagarly awaiting the next addition.

Nefieslab · 01-23-2008, 05:51 AM

yep... me too.

I'm ready when Write is Rahvin.

Mr Write · 02-21-2008, 03:53 PM

Part 2

He lay on his bed, the sheets were covered in dirt and sweat, it hadn’t been washed since they took her. His face remained dirty, his clothes stained and tore, blood covered bandages sat on the bedside table and he lay staring up at the ceiling. He listened to the noises from the town below, they were attacking again, people were shouting and screaming and he heard the noise that he dreaded. The demons were sucking the life out of another poor soul. He shivered at the sound and turned over, they were getting closer, he could feel it.

He had woken hours ago but had not left the bed; it was pointless to do anything now.
As far as he was concerned his life was over.
Unexpectedly his brain flashed him an image of Maria, he clenched his teeth and began to have one of his frequent twitches, he always thought of Maria when there were demons around, he shook it off and rolled over again.

More screaming filled the air, louder and closer than before, they were almost on his doorstep. He laughed out loud in a way far from happily and clenched the sides of the bed, his face began to sweat, his long hair covering his eyes, another thing he hadn’t bothered with since that day.
More and more screaming, they were killing anything in sight as they approached.
Another image flashed across him cold and painful, the rowing boat thrown over, a half eaten lunch floating in the river beside it, and him screaming for them to bring her back, drowning in mouthfuls of water.
At that moment he felt the ground shake, they must have found their way past the buildings protection, it never did stand a chance against them but at least it gave the people inside enough time to flee.
Dust fell from the old plaster walls and they approached the room, this is it, he thought and he sat up.

Marthous cricked his neck and brushed the hair back from his face, this was going to be fun, he heard the crashing as the stairs were ripped apart and then something hard slammed into the door and a large crack formed down the centre.
He smiled and stood up, he was a little light headed but he didn’t care. The door was attacked again this time failing to keep anything out; it broke in half and fell to the floor.

"You know" Marthous said staring fearlessly into the demons blackened eyes "the door wasn’t locked; all you had to do was knock."
His comment seemed to enrage the thing even more, it moved towards him making that awful noise he hated so much, he moved past the sadness and turned all of his emotion to anger.

Even the demon, who had killed hundreds of humans before looked taken aback at this fearless being, he had no special power or ability, why was he so confident, when a whole army of people could not stop this single demon.

The hair hung down Marthous face, still glaring at the demon, not daring to lose eye contact.

"Well" he smiled chaotically as the demon got just inches away, "are you gunna apologise for breaking my door?"
The demon ignored him; its curiosity had worn out,
Marthous shrugged "didn’t think so," he reached for an object on his bedside table and took one last look at the demon, his expression complete hatred, "this is for Maria!"

***

The lights flickered and the sky outside became dark. The demon lay dead on the hotel room floor, Marthous kicked it hard just to make sure and took a bottle from his cabinet. Whisky, he poured himself a generous glass and downed it in one, then lit a cigarette and threw the match at the black mess on the floor. That was another one gone. He pocketed the strange object in his hand and pushed back the hair from his face. He wouldn’t stop until all the demons were dead.

There were still more outside, he could tell by the amount of noise below, he didn’t care about the people out there though, not really, but he would still go down and kill every last one of those evil bastards no matter how long it took. All he had felt for the last year was pure hatred, and he had promised himself, he would wipe out every last demon on the planet or die trying.

He grabbed the bottle of whisky and drank as much as he could before throwing it to the ground and heading for the doorway, he took one last look at what had once been a happy home. It was now dark and cold, with no feeling in it at all, he wouldn’t be coming back ever. It probably wouldn’t be here even if he did, the whole building was shaking and bits of the ceiling were falling down.
He moved into the hallway, at least what was left of it, the stairs had collapsed in on themselves and all of the windows were smashed. He breathed in deeply and headed forwards through the rubble, the building getting more and more unstable every second.

A loud bang made him stop and he watched casually as the wall in front of him was ripped from the ground, he stood face to face with three demons. His bottom lip curled slightly and he reached for the object in his pocket, this was going to be fun.

Nefieslab · 02-22-2008, 03:29 PM

Part Three

Ray looked down at his hands. They were shaking slightly but they weren't different yet.
No claws.
He sat down against the wall and sighed. He shook his head and looked at his hands again.
No claws.
Ray listened to the terrible noises coming from outside. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and let the noises wash over him. He looked at his hands.
No claws.
Ray stood and began to pase the room. He already knew that the room was ten metres by ten metres but he walked it again anyway. He reached the same spot he had started from and looked down at his hands.
No claws.
Sudden screams peirced the thin walls of the shed and Ray gritted his teeth. He looked down at his hands.
No claws.
He picked up a garden fork and threw it against the nearest wall,
"Why doesn't it work when I want it to?!" he shouted to the world in general, "People are in danger! It always works when people are in danger!"
In a sudden rage Ray slammed the palms of his hands against the wall with his eyes closed. He began to sob slightly but quickly stopped himself. He pulled at his hands to bring them away from the wall, still with his eyes closed. His hands stayed in place.
Ray opened his eyes and saw his fingertips had become the tips of claws and they had imbedded themselves in the wall. He smiled a crazy smile and pulled on his hands with a huge show of strength and half the wall came with them. Ray tore the section of wall apart and stepped out into the midst of the slaughter. Two demons were just preparing to rape a little girl and they looked up at him with puzzled looks. He registered as niether demon or human. Ray smiled and drew his sword. The demons hissed a warning at him in their native tongue. Ray laughed and slashed, cutting the lead demon's head off in one swipe,
"Who's in charge now?" he asked in demon tongue. The second demon reared up and threw itself at him. Ray punched it down with his left and and stabbed the sword's point into the other. He looked up and smiled warmly at the little girl who was weeping,
"Run along little girl. There is bloody work to be done and it is not for the eyes of children to see such work." he said with an extra layer to his voice. The girl stopped weeping and listened to the extra layer. She mutely obeyed him and went inside the shed to hide. Ray smiled. There were other good things about being a hybird. He chuckled to himself and whistled a merry tune as he walked into the centre of the town and towards the centre of the battle.
He jumped over a piece of fallen rubble and looked around at the street, taking in the dead Hybrids. He sighed,
"Why am I always late?" he said to himself in the rasping toungue of the demons. He frowned at the sound of his own voice and reached inside one of his pockets. When he pulled his hand out he was holding a very complicated piece of machinary that looked like a human toungue. Truth be told it was a replacement. Ray touched the end of the machine to his toungue stump and gasped as they bonded with a flare of heat. He took his fingers out and moved his toungue, the metal replacement working like a normal toungue would. He sighed again as he smelt the use of guns in the air. He sniffed again, his hybrid powers coming into their own. He smelt the group of humans not far away, trying to hide in a building. Ray shook his head as he smelt a far more dangerous smell. More hybrids. Quite a few.
Ray toyed with the idea of trying to call out to the small group of humans to warn them but then just shrugged. He'd stalk them and help them if they needed helping. If not... Well... he might just go to the nearest habitited town and seek out the local... 'Delicacies'. Not even a Hybrid's powers and mentality could keep him away from female company for ever. After all... he was only human.

A-L · 02-22-2008, 08:15 PM

Cool, but there were some grammatical errors like 'swip' instead of swipe and uh 'pase' instead of pace. Other than that it is a very interesting piece, all of them.

Nefieslab · 02-23-2008, 12:52 AM

I'll say thanks cus I seem to be the only one awake at the moment so... thanks A-L