another short story that i probably wont finish...

[TrustKill]

"what is this mess?" Adler threw the dossier file back onto the laquered table. he shined his badge with the crisp sleeve of his shirt.

"an angelic display of courage."


"looks like a gang war to me. plain and simple."


"check again." chief morson re-opened the folder, flipping through the photos of mass blood letting. "if you notice, there are no bullet wounds. none anywhere."


"so?"


"so most gang turf wars end with bodies stacked up with holes punched in 'em to hell and back."


the difference was quite clear. these photos spoke volumes of precision. all of the bodies face up, one slice acros the chest of each. right hip to left shoulder.


"so fill me in on these... angelics." adler scratched his thinning hair."


"they are a religious group, we know that much. they paint themselves blue due to their customs."


"cultists?"


morson shrugged, "no one really knows. they stick to themselves. all accounts show them saying they are," he made quotations with his fingers, "christian activists."


adler rolled his eyes, "cultists."


"im not so sure."


"what do ya mean you're not sure? we need to root them out just like any other pest. remember the jihadese? holed themselves up in an abandoned warehouse covered with booby traps. they spray-painted 'die government of pigs!' on the roof, right?"


the chief nodded, "yeah."


"what did we do then, chief? we burned it down with them in it. i dont see what is so different."


"take a look at these photos."


"ive seen 'em. whats your point?"


"all of that," he gestured to the photos splayed out on the table, "all of those bodies... two people did all of that."


"come on chief, quit screwing around." adler stood up fom his chair, "i dont have time for pranks right now. there is too much going on."


"oh its not a prank. we have one of them in custody."


"if they are so great, how did you catch him? cant he, i dunno... fly away or something?"


"he claims he isn't worthy enough to carry on with the rest."


"really. and why is that?"


the chief gestured to the seat, "he got hit. once."


"there are 40 bodies on that street!" he pounded his fingers on the corpse snapshots, "you mean to tell me that only one of them got shot at all? they should be punched full of holes."


"it was more of a knick really..."


"okay, now im listening."


________________________________________________________________________


there was a cross painted on the wall of the alley, but the thugs didnt notice it. pulling bats out as they passed the dumpsters. they would be ready. if this went well, their gang wouldnt have to collect payments for another two weeks. screw the korean bastard's money anyway. he refused to pay for their protection, so they would have to extract it from his property.


the air smelled like rain as the first brick smashed jan wong's general store window, supplier of the locals for the last 15 years. no alarm had gone off because jan could never afford one. the gang members went to work, sacking anything of street value or ingredients they could use to make drugs. before long the 43 men had emptied out the building. as they ran through the battered front door, the first few stopped, the exit blocked by two men.


"put back what is not yours."


the gang's leader smiled a gapped-tooth grin fom inside his ski-mask. "yeah you guys, put all da shit back, huh." he gripped his club more firmly.


"if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off." the second assailant flashed his arm up in a gleaming arc, a scimitar in his fist. the gang leader's right hand and the cash register it held crashed to the ground.


the gun fire started and ended shortly after.


"god bless you, judas, but you cannot come back." the dark man dissappeared into the night.


________________________________________________________________________


"so wait. im missing something here." adler flipped through judas' statement.


"what do you need to know, now?" chief morson poked at his coffee cup.


"who are these angelics?"


"i already told you, they..."


"i know, but who are they really?"


"keep reading."


"angelics claim to be protected by christian angels and the spirits of dead prophets." adler dictated from the file. "whoa. now aint that a stretch."


"one could say..." the chief still played with his coffee cup, nervously.


"some angel this judas had, eh?" he chuckled to himself, "couldnt stop one lousy bullet."


"oh, judas said that was his fault." morson was greeted with a curious look. "the angels apparently act only like advisors. they can only whisper, not control."


"so this judas guy, he ignored his angel?"


"said he was too busy, you know, with killing 40 heavily armed gang-members. seems to me he does have an angel. either that or he is lucky enough for ten people."


"i want to meet this guy. i have some serious questions."


"hopefully you'll get your chance, adler."


"huh? hopefully? what, is he going somewhere?"


"this is turning out to be a government matter." the chief winced at the release of those last words. he hated bureau interference.


"shit, i might as well just hang myself now." adler pushed his chair back in a tantrum.


"yeah, thats how it goes though. i just got word that no one else is to contact our man until their scouts get here." morson got up too, swallowing the truth, "hell, im not even supposed to show you that file. its frozen evidence."


"yeah, yeah. blame it on me if you have to."


________________________________________________________________________


the federal scouts were flying out at mach 2 over the desert toward their destination. the two of them exchanged glances while looking over photos, but never really conversed. interlinking thought processors was the latest advance in secure communications and bureau inquisitors were all outfitted. the red lights in the four corners of their cabin started to blink. their transport would be landing in 10 minutes. from the door at the rear, two more men entered the red-lit cabin.


completely encased in flat grey armor from the waist up, bureau kill-switches were totally anonymous and the figments of many peoples' nightmares. a single mirrored, eye-wide visor flashed across the tight face plates of their helmets. inside, diagnostics of everything around them constantly chirped. the rest of their armor emulated human muscle structure vaguely, only more sharply lined. plates overlapped other plates and hydraulic units to augment their speed and strength. all these micro-servos hummed invisibly to the outside source, running on bioelectricity. from the waist down, their legs had thick fatigues strapped with pistol and ammunition pouches across their thighs. underneath the heat-resistant cloth was more armor shell. a framework of augmentative and protective cells that protruded out from the cinched pants just above the knees. sliding down the shins, the armor plates tapered off to integrated gripping boots, the toes split for more balance.

the two kill-switches took benches next to each of the bureau inquisitors. they were assigned as such, to protect at the expense of anyone else, and they would kill even each other if need be. their frames were tinged slightly, and dwarved at an average height of 5'4". next to the inquisitors, they loaded zip-pistols with fresh strips, charging the rounds and reholstered them, ready to tear through whomever their sights wandered upon.

the inquisitors unconsciously scooted away from their guardians, exchanged nervous glances and brainwave messages. kill-switches had communicators too, but they were tuned to a different frequency band. silently, the inquisition scouts thanked technology for the machines that pumped sedative chemicals into these assassins' hyper-sensitive nervous systems.


the transport bumped down on the landing plain next to the police precinct. kill-switch samix snapped into a standing position, steadying his inquisitor in his seat. as the transport halted completely, kill-switch vire checked the load of his zipgun one more time.

[TrustKill]

"the federal scouts have just touched down, sir." the phone in chief morson's office had been sending him word of the bureau's travel progress for the past 20 minutes.

"good enough, farley. make sure the offices out there look at least half-way decent. we dont want these guys filing a report against us now."


"can do sir." farley clicked off the intercomm and stood up at his desk. amidst the disarray, officers were running about, furiously carrying armloads of papers to more organized locations. he swept up a box of playing cards and began shuffling them nervously. "we've only got about 10 minutes 'til they get here, lets try to get this place shaped up, people." farley's voice carried well over the rustlings and scramblings of the precinct. "years of being a beat cop and screaming at gang members." farley thought proudly, "guess it's good for something." he went back to watching the bank of camera monitors from his computer screen. the scouts were debarking their transport. "make that five minutes!" he settled into watching while the office commotion picked up several notches closer to chaos.



________________________________________________________________________


officer trent drove the cart that would carry the inquisitors from their transport to the interrogationa area of the precinct. he greeted the officials with his signature white-toothed smile and gave an invisible shudder at the sight of the kill-switches that were actively scanning the perimeter. the inquisitors handed trent a document siting their reason for being there. he scanned over the page as if he comprehended what it said. nobody really understood that legal gibberish and he already knew why they were there anyway. everyone did.


the two inquisitors took seats in the back of the cart, setting their briefcases in the retractable luggage bin. "scan the area." the first said to the two armor-clad kill-switches still standing outside fo the cart. they nodded shortly, with two spastic movements of recognition, as their suits started hissing audibly. the mechanics were injecting chemicals to cancel out their nervous system sedatives directly into samix and vire's circulatory system. they twitched as their muscles came to life. the first inquisitor then turned to trent, "its okay, you can embark for the prisoner now."


samix and vire scrambled out at opposite 90 degree angles from the cart, carving scouting paths across the landing field at impossible speed. their heads turned like blurs, helmet diagnostics searching everywhere for possible security breaches. they cut another 90 degrees towards the precinct building, making a perimeter square of scanned area. trent pulled the travel-cart to a stop just as the two kill-switches halted outside of the main doors. their armor hissed, both with coolant from traveling such a distance at such great speed, and because the suits were re-injecting their nerve sedatives.


"thank god." officer trent thought. "those things are scary as hell." he forced himself past his awe and out of his drivers seat. walking to the security door panel, trent reached into his pocket. almost instantly he heard the chirp of two zipguns finding their aim on him. "oh my god." his hands shot up, convulsing above his head in fear.


"kill-switches!" the second inquisitor stood briefly, "stand down immediately."


the two armored men dropped their sights and turned to look at the speaker. "unit samix reports possible security risk from the acquired target. at the current scan level, we are allowed lethal force implication on any targets neccessary." his voice sounded like gravel running through gears.


"i... i just... need to get my scan-card. for the door." trent's hands were trembling uncontrollably. he could anticipate the thin zipgun round fragmenting his torso in his mind. "please..." he pleaded more with god than the kill-switches. they were beyond such reasoning.


"turn down security settings from 5 to 4." the second inquisitor spoke, his voice causing immediate reactions in the killers. "i think we will be okay here."


"security scan demotion noted, inquisitor praegor. i apologize for any bureaucratic implications our actions may have caused in advance." samix's metallic voice grated as he snapped his pistol back into its holster. vire did the same, relaxing his gaze on trent significantly.


trent turned to praegor with tears still in his eyes, "i appreciate that sir."


"no need officer. open the door please." under the formal guise, praegor was shaken. "there arent many worse ways to die." he thought.



-Johseph, we must watch these two as much as anyone.-


his thoughts translated into code that the other inquisitor intercepted.


-i was considering the same thing, brother. kill-switches prove to catch you unaware at bad times. dangerous indeed.-


officer trent steadied his shaking fingers to insert th scan-card and swipe it through. the light turned green and the doors swung open.


________________________________________________________________________


"i am matthew praegor and this is my colleague, Art Johseph. we arrived, as you know, as part of this investigation." the men introduced themselves to chief morson. morson reached out his hand for a handshake and received instead the same form the inquisitors had shown trent outside. "we now assume jurasdiction over the investigation in question as shown here, article 7753 of section 5 of federal inquisition rule. all evidentiary and investigatory materials should be given to us as soon as well as any statements the suspect has made."


chief morson nodded reluctantly. "we'll have it all ready for you right away."


and just like that, Precinct 152 was locked out of the investigation.


________________________________________________________________________

[TrustKill]

"so judas had to be left behind." father simon scratched at the end of his blue-dyed nose.

"yes father. he refused the call. even if for just a short while, it..."


"i for one and glad that you found yourself worthy of making that decision." Dar's head bowed further down with shame. "that is cleverly ambitious, dar. what do you have to say for yourself?"


"i believed i would be saving the counsel the trouble of delegating the obvious, father."


"you believed? your position is, as an angelic, not to believe, but to listen. your angel is the supreme being, not you." father simon grasped dar by the ears and tilted his head up. "now we have lost an excellent pupil."


"i apologize infinitely for my arrogance."


"i am glad to hear that dar, but it will not be enough in this case. leave my chamber so that i may write up a worthy penance for your sins."


"yes father." dar walked from the candle-lit chamber, collecting his scimitar from the guard at the door. he worked his way through the dim caves to his own personal chamber. hanging his sword upon the wall, he sat down on his pallette to put on his casual robes. "this path to righteousness is difficult indeed, lord. grant me the strenght and wisdom through your servants to help me know your bidding."


interrupting his prayer, saul of the templar knights came to the door. "dar, father advent requests you in his chamber shortly."


________________________________________________________________________


two scientists sat in a sterile white lab in a federal research station. the government built that station before the desert swallowed up everything around. it was once a booming super-city before they had to pay federal busses to shuttle workers out to the domes. the work was interesting though, and the pay was worth any experimentation despite whatever ethical issues a scientist or researcher might have.


being a government scientist usually meant one thing. weapons development. hundreds of prototypes were thrown out or moved into the next phase of testing every week at that desert outpost alone. professor daniel jones had his team working on zip-rifles diligently over the last few weeks. jones poured over research, his ballistics trained mind ran numbers against theories and back again until it hurt.


they had encountered numerous troubles translating the suspended feed systems from zip-pistols into a reliable formula for rifle use. a particularly peculiar problem since most of the time, development went in the reverse order of that. the increased range and power needed for sniper shots sent the zip-gun ammo skittering off of its magnetic track much too early. the rounds would bounce out at oblique angles, sometimes through the sides of the rifle itself.


professor jones ran through the process of zipgun propulsion in his head, checking against the newest round of schematics his team had just sent him.


"zipguns feed off of thin, perforated strips of metal. much like utility knive blades, each fragment has a razorsharp edge once it is separated and set into firing position. the chambered strips are held in a charged section that administers high-power magnetic fields to direct the shots. these fields are projected in a cylinrical pattern that extends over a great distance before depolarizing. setting the field is essentially cocking the pistol before firing and this stage is designated by a whining, chirping sound, similar to that of a camera flash charging. when the trigger is pulled, internal magnetic rails drag the razor-strip fragments into the pathway of the magnetic field which propels it away at exponentially supersonic speeds. upon penetration of both soft and hard targets alike, the ballistics of zip-strips make them splinter on a near molecular level and bounce around within the body, generally rendering the soft target to lifeless pieces of flesh or machinery completely worthless and impossible to repair once these fragments break out in irregular patterns." the professor's mind spelled it out almost straight from the manufacturers manual. "time to got to work."


________________________________________________________________________

[TrustKill]

okay, so that is the whole first chapter and the first part of chapter two.

-i wrote half of this in sociology class last night and the other half in the office this morning. be looking for more, maybe even some sketches if i can get them scanned and hosted and posted at some point.

-TrustKill-

[MAX]

Cool! Keep going!

[Xenia Onatopp- Bale]

Wonderful storytelling, TrustKill.

[TrustKill]

"thank you, saul the templar." advent rasped. his heath had declined greatly since the angelics moved down into those caves. the damp walls and torch smoke had rendered him almost entirely bed-ridden. his elderly frame was guarded by two personal templar knights who constantly monitored his health.

saul bowed shortly, "yes father." he left, returning to his patrol routes within the caves.


"so dar, how are you fairing these days?" father advent smiled warmly.


"as i am sure you have heard, father, i will be granted a test of penance for my mistake with brother judas. for that, i am humbled but i will not back down from any challenge to purify my soul."


"ardent as always, my son. come sit here." as advent gestured to a cushioned stool next to his bedside, he was plagued by a fit of coughing. his two templar assistants had to restrain him until he was calm again.


"how are you, father?" dar asked, concerned.


"oh, i have seen better days." he glanced at his two guards, "between you and me, i would give all the health i have left to be rid of these two meddlers." he started to laugh but cut himself short of another coughing fit.


dar smiled at the old man's humor. such wit in the face of death was an admirable quality. he did not doubt that when father advent died, he would join the choir of angels which sang for the angelics. "might i ask why i was summoned, father?"


"now calm down just for a moment. you wouldnt rush an old man to his grave, would you?" the warm smile brightened the father's face. "it has been so long since we have just sat to converse. outside of counsel, i mean."


"three months, almost to the day, father."


"ah yes, that seems so long ago. much has happened since then, hasn't it?"


"yes, including our move down to these caves which robs you of your heath." dar grit his teeth as if it were his fault.


"not exactly good on the lungs, but these caves are a home no less. better to lose one old man so that the rest may find peace. at least that is what i think."


dar shook his head, "you always did sacrifice for others, advent."


"i suppose it is just in my nature, but come dar, i will get to the point."


dar settled onto his chair, listening reverently, "i will do as you ask, father."


"you are being asked to make sacrifices as well. as part of your counsel, i was involved in preparing your penance. are you prepared to fulfill this duty?"


"ready and willing as god shall provide."


"the task is hard, very hard, but parallel to the sins you have committed to earn it. not just the sins against your own soul, but against judas as well." advent stopped to cough, his templars rushed for his side but he waved them off. "judas is being held in a police precinct nearby where your courage trials were held. your penance is to go and retrieve him. his is not lost to us as you made him believe."


"and what if i cannot?"


"you must. only then shall your slate be cleaned again. you must retrieve him and ask forgiveness of him, despite the opposition."


dar sat speechless.


"know that this task is not believed to be impossible. the other counselors and i have chosen it specifically for you. none of us wish to see you die in battle and so we would not send you on such a mission alone. saul of the templar shall be your aide."


"why should saul have to pay for my arrogance also, father? these are not his sins to bear."


"it was saul's wish to accompany you, not mine, not the counsels. speak with him about it."


"yes father."


"dar, do you accept this decree as final word and action of your penance?"


"of course father."


"then it is done. go about on your mission, and, god willing, return to us."


"bless you, father advent."


"and you, Dar angelic."


________________________________________________________________________


"the target analysis is coming up on your screen, professor jones."


"thank you, tweed." jones pressed the flashing box on his screen with his finger. a short video simulation proceeded, showing the changes to their prototype zip-rifle. his assistant, john tweed, narrated the sequences.


"we changed the accelerator firing patterns so that the rounds are propelled at a slightly slower but much more predictable rate. the difference in velocity is very slight, but the increase in accuracy and reliability is close to the range we are looking for."


jones persisted, "i want to see some numbers."


with the click of a button, the figures and findings all scrolled up the flat monitor. jones seemed pleased, "as i said, the numbers are very close to what we were looking for." tweed reported.


"reinforce the field array chamber here." professor jones pointed to the schematic on screen and it zoomed in on that part of the weapon. "seems to be the place where the most rounds are peircing prematurely."


"ill punch that info into the test data machines immediately, sir." tweeds fingers manipulated keys in a blur.


jones turned and clasped his hands behind his back, "these may be ready to go sooner than we thought, john." there was a twinge of excitement in his voice as he watched the assembly lines below their lab, a striking difference through the sound-proof glass. the assembly level was so dirty compared to the sterile whiteness of their work-shop.


"the team downstairs is going to put the changes into the calibrator, daniel. we should have a new prototype produced by tomorrow morning."


jones turned, masking his enthusiasm, "good work. i will be resting in my chamber if i am needed."


"yes sir."


he shouldnt have been as excited as he was. after all, his team had produced nearly 100 prototypes this week alone. all of them were failures. he couldnt explain it, but this one just felt right. as he walked out of the clean room between his lab and the main hallway, james contemplated his future of fame. perhaps people would even pay to have him autograph books some day. the professor barely took notice of this black-clad bodyguards leaving post and following close behind him. his thoughts were lost in teh clomp-clomping of their heavy boots as he approached his room. he felt safe knowing that those two men would be there, just as alert, whe he emerged. as the retinal scanner flickered, opening the door, he felt the urge for some much needed sleep.


________________________________________________________________________

[TrustKill]

i have more to add onto this part that i just wrote but i didnt think it would be wise to type it out until i had finished the whole scene.

-i dont want to leave anyone hanging at this part...

-TrustKill-

[NateP]

I've read the story, and it was, again, really well written! The plot is good, It has a real world, "this could happen in the near future" feel to it. I like how it's going so far. Your descriptions, again, are good. I now wish i could have a zipgun, after reading how they work! Also, I'm starting to feel sorry for people, once Dar shows up at the police station... Will you go into more detail about the Angelics? Like why they moved, or how they got started, etc...? Write more on this soon!

[TrustKill]

yeah... the way the story is looking to go, most everyone is going to be sorry for messing w/ the angelics.

-rest assured that their story will be revealed bit by bit as the chapters that surround them come back up into play. they, along with the precinct 152 cops will start to play more and more of a role as the story progresses.

-just a teaser... dont go betting on the angelics just yet though, my friend. you dont get to see the killswitches in action until dar shows up at the scene looking for retribution. things will get interesting from there.

[NateP]

Cool... I'd like to see the killswitches...that's going to be cool!

[TrustKill]

NateP said:

Cool... I'd like to see the killswitches...that's going to be cool!

ive got a couple of rough sketches. i cant host them because... well, i just cant. but i can email them to you if you want.

[NateP]

sure....you can send them to [e-mail]

[NateP]

I got the e-mail, but nothing loaded..... ;D ;D

[TrustKill]

check it again... i am a dumbshit and pressed enter at the wrong time. i sent the email again w/ some pics and some explanations.

[TrustKill]

hmm... so apparently our email boxes are at war... ive tried to send them like 5 times and it wont work...

[NateP]

Trust kill, try my [e-mail] it might work

[TrustKill]

last time, i swear it !!!!!

[NateP]

I got them!! good drawings!!!

[TrustKill]

NateP said:

I got them!! good drawings!!!

oh, praise the lord!!! thats been pissing me off all day... now i can explain.

-the first sketch is actually based off of my original drawings of the kill switches. their history goes back to their original concept of mine. i have been developing them as characters since the 7th grade. originally they started out as pure, 100% robots. thus the really blocky, 2-D look of their design. really utilitarian looking.

-the second one is a newer concept of the killswitches in a post-robotic concept. more of the human style that im trying to portray now. a lot of the designs are skimmed from the spynet soldiers in the new splinter cell game but oh well... i want to incorporate more of the solid armor plating into the final versions. probably mostly the helmet and the forearm and hand armor. probably more substance on the legs as well. otherwise, i really like the streamlined idea.