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Subject: [Story] The Darkwing Chronicles---A Killer's Tale (Updated 10/21)

Posted by: Dropship dude
No, acnboy. Spartain Ken 15 is a lesser being. Much like the bacteria that lives in your shi­t.
Posted by: mike120593
My shi­t bacteria takes offense to that comparison.

Don't make me lel. You won't like me when I lel.

Posted by: Xd00999
The local inmates are a lively bunch...

They're lonely, they just want a hug.... Great part there, the banter is awesome!

  • 11.02.2009 1:34 AM PDT

Halo: Heretic or Hero---An Elite's Story
Choose your own destiny

FanFicFactor
Forged in the Flames of Passion, go forth and represent!

Yo! I was pretty surprised that I made top topics the other day with only 25 replies; not sure how that works, but I'm not complaining!

Anyway, here is Chapter 6. Expect lots of escapees and some more explosions

~Murph~

Chapter Six

Freedom?

Killing was his first instinct.

What was he supposed to do? Drown amidst the crowd of escaping convicts? No. Pulse acted with remarkable swiftness, his hand flying to the submachine gun at his belt. There was no time for negotiations. He fired off almost half the magazine, cringing as new blood rained over him. Several prisoners dropped to the ground, but still the swarm carried on like a pack of starved, ferocious wolves.

Finally admitting to the fact that he had to reload, Pulse pivoted and raced down the long hallway, and began to swap magazines when a gnarled hand grabbed him roughly by the collar and spun him around so hard that he flew into a vacant cell, slamming against the rock wall so hard he saw stars.

"I'll be needing this," a hoarse, greedy voice whispered in his ear before quickly wrenching the gun out of Pulse's helpless hands. The operative grunted and turned slowly around to see the barrel of the gun just inches away from his forehead. The man holding it was tall and much broader than him, and he donned a wicked smile.

Pulse quickly shut his eyes, waiting for the hissing loudness of his own submachine gun to overcome the

It never came.

He opened his eyes again, perplexed that his senses were still intact. The escapees still barreled down the hallway, but inside the empty cell he was oblivious to them all.

The man with the gun was still grinning crookedly, as if he was teasing. Pulse saw a difference in the way his eyes glared down at him, though. On his face was a greedy smile but in his eyes was the agony of a million needle pricks.

Slowly, steadily, his knees buckled out from under him, and the immense man fell like an unstrung puppet to the ground.

Pulse slowly looked upward, his eyes averting from the dead man laying beside him to the new, rather slender figure that had taken his place. It took all of the power within him not to gasp when he recognized who had saved his life.

The girl he had seen in the cell did not smile upon meeting Pulse's gaze. He hadn't expected that, anyway. It occurred to him that even if she grinned at him, there was an eternal, permanent coldness in her expression that could never shed away.

Pulse's gaze slowly traveled down her right arm and found the knife still held tightly in her hand, stained in fresh blood. How had she produced that? Part of him didn't really want to know.

"Thanks," Pulse said sheepishly, using the wall behind him to steady himself to his feet. His head throbbed madly. It was time to get out of this place.

The girl stood there for a moment, staring at him, then turned and walked casually away, disappearing with impossible swiftness into the roaring crowd. If there hadn't been a dead man at his feet, he'd of thought she'd never really been there at all.

---

Freedom?

The thought had not been present in my mind before. It was only as my wearisome eyes focused in on the horde of escaping convicts that I registered; I could leave. I could leave this terrible place forever. What planet was I on now? I guess it was irrelevant. I could never return home. Perhaps I could start a fresh life in the wilderness, or maybe in a populated city. Put all of this behind me. Pretend that I was not a murderer-- that I had not ever killed a man in cold blood.

It was only then that a short but greatly built man stumbled into my cell that my senses snapped to attention. He was not a convict, but I did not think he was a guard either.

He sported a well polished, heavily-armored silver and black battle suit that covered everything but his head. He had short, well-kept brown hair, spiked at the front, and what seemed to me like a permanently annoyed facial expression. In his hands he cradled an outlandish looking submachine gun, obviously deprived but not an exact replica of the UNSC's standard SMG's.

He stared at me for a moment, scrutinizing, then muttered, "You Volker?"

I didn't have any sly tactic to get out of this one. Before I could stop myself, I found my head nodding.

He frowned at me again, as if I'd answered incorrectly. "You look like hell." Well, in all honesty, that wasn't the most mirthful comment I'd received today.

"Feel like it too."

The words tasted sour in my mouth after not speaking for days. Truthfully, I'd never expected to talk to anyone again. Fate had, do to some exotic cause, decided that I was meant to survive.

The man sighed and crouched down in front of me, his eyes now glowing with sternness. "You want to get out of here, right?"

I nodded.

"You won't turn tail and run for the hills if I help you escape in one piece?"

I frowned. What did that mean? Was he trying to point out that I'd have to come with him in exchange for my escape?

Suddenly, the immense cracks of gunshots filled the hallway. Guards were barking orders to each other, rounding up as many escapees as they could.

Killing those who resisted.

"Look, I can explain everything later, but unless you want to rot in here until" His voice trailed off. He grunted in exasperation, then gave me one final death-stare that spoke more words than I wanted to hear.

I didn't know where this stranger would lead me; whether this would be the biggest mistake or greatest decision of my life. I didn't know if it would be my last.

And then, not for the last time, I thought of Derek Fisher. I remembered the ghost of his last wicked grin, before I'd ended his life. I couldn't wait here and die with those horrible, deathly eyes glowing back at me until I joined my wife.

"I'll come," I said, the words miserably rolling off my tongue. "I won't run away."

The man looked distrusting at me for a moment, then nodded and held out his hand. I took it and slowly pulled myself up.

"So, how are we getting out of here?" I asked. The question had barely rolled off of my tongue when the wall to my left burst outward in a storm of dust and debris, chunks of rock and metal crumbling brick-upon-brick. Moonlight shone valiantly into the opening in the wall.

"That way," the guy said happily, and ushered me out into the open, into freedom. From there we broke into a run, oblivious to the lights and the sirens and the gunshots. I was not going to die today.

Needless to say, I never looked back.

  • 11.05.2009 5:51 PM PDT

By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.

I enjoyed it, especially with the girl. Though I think you might have improved the ending a little by elaborating on the whole "freedom" thing, a short snappy description of the setting from the protagonist's eyes would have been nice.

But other than that, great.

  • 11.06.2009 1:20 PM PDT

Halo: Heretic or Hero---An Elite's Story
Choose your own destiny

FanFicFactor
Forged in the Flames of Passion, go forth and represent!

Posted by: ajw34307
I enjoyed it, especially with the girl. Though I think you might have improved the ending a little by elaborating on the whole "freedom" thing, a short snappy description of the setting from the protagonist's eyes would have been nice.

But other than that, great.


Shamefully, I must agree. I admit that I rushed that last part waaaaay too much so that it didn't incorporate all of the emotion I meant to.

And, I won't give anything else away other than that you might see a bit more of this girl later on...

  • 11.06.2009 1:51 PM PDT

Great indeed. Congratulations on making top forum topics Murph, this deserves it.

  • 11.06.2009 1:51 PM PDT
Subject: [Story] The Darkwing Chronicles---A Killer's Tale (Updated 11/22)

Halo: Heretic or Hero---An Elite's Story
Choose your own destiny

FanFicFactor
Forged in the Flames of Passion, go forth and represent!

Hey guys--I'm sorry I'm so late on this chapter. I was pretty uninspired for a while, but now I think I have a better plan to manage this. In this chapter, you'll get some more views on the Director (don't make friends with him) and a continuation of Brad and Pulse's story. Some action as well.

DARKWING CHRONICLES ARE REBORN!

---Murph---


Chapter Seven

Escape Route

The Director of Darkwing Corporation stood alone by the window in his office, his gaze fixed upon the entrancing stars that seemed to taunt him, whisper to him. The fact that they were out of his reach seemed to question his power. He was not content with that. Nor was he content with his current location.

Darkwing's master headquarters was in space.

Although the Director himself had not been fond of the idea, caution was more than necessary. One wrong move and he could have the United Nations Space Command swarming down on him. They needed a solitary place, where no one could easily locate and eradicate them.

Darkwing. No one truly knew its origins other than knowing it was of evil descent. The very name inspired fear in the bravest of warriors. There had never been an organization so deadlyand yet so quiet, inconspicuous. A Darkwing operative had never been captured. The protocol for imminent capture was suicide, and such protocol had always been obeyed.

Now the Director turned away from the stars, his face contorted in a permanent look of grimness. There was a photograph on the black granite table behind him. It was an old photograph, one that he'd only recently scavenged from the heap of strange objects that made up his blood-splattered past.

Not for the last time, he picked it up and examined it thoroughly.

There were eight men in the picture, dressed in their honorable United Nations dignitary uniforms. Their arms were slung around one another, and each one donned a sheepish but pleasant grin, the result of a few too many drinks together.

He devoured the picture with a disturbing sense of hatred. If he could not put this picture to good use, it would have been burned long ago. But it did have a reason for existence. A deadly reason. A reason that could quite possibly be the start of a fresh beginning.

The Director pocketed the picture and made quickly for the door. There was much work to do.

He had found his victims.

---

The two of us must have run three miles or so into the dense woods that enclosed the prison before we finally collapsed in a heap in the middle of a small clearing, the illuminative moonlight being our only guide through the thick trees.

It was then, gasping for breath, that I turned to face the man who had saved me once more. I couldn't help but notice that there was something frighteningly familiar about him. Weird.

"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you helping me?"

The man turned to me, and, for the first time, grinned, baring his bright white teeth that seemed so unfitting against his battle-torn features.

"Call me Pulse," he said. "As for helping you?" He paused for a moment, squinting as if searching for the correct words. "Well, I guess you could say you and I have something in common."

"And that is?"

There was a long silence. Pulse's eyes were fixated deep into the forest, as if he might find the answer within the dense woods. At long length, he turned back to me, but his expression bore no answers.

"We should get going."

"Not until you tell me what this is all about. I'm not taking another step until you do."

"You're not keeping your word."

"You're not giving me a choice."

He looked at me, flashed a smirk, then shook his head. "I wasn't counting on you being this stubborn. Maybe I'd better walk you back to that hellhole and have you locked up until you can learn some manners."

I stood my ground, my chin a bit higher than normal, my eyes bent downward. I wasn't leaving here without answers. What if Pulse was leading me to a place worse than prison? Worse than imminent death? The thought made my stomach flip.

I began to argue, but suddenly Pulse rolled forward and clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling me. He dragged me to the ground so that I lay flat on my stomach and held his index finger in front of his mouth, and his eyes narrowed warningly. Quiet.

And then I heard the voices.

"Cowardly bastards. Doors opened for twenty seconds and they all ran like hell for the hills!"

"What exactly were you expecting? They're prisoners. When they get the opportunity, they're going to jump on it."

A search party. About three from the sound of them. A dim light knifed through the darkness, illuminating all that fell beneath its beam.

"How did the cell doors open anyway?" another asked. "We didn't give anyone clearance. It definitely didn't happen from the inside, and it would have been damn near impossible to override the entire prison's security system."

I thought I saw Pulse twist uncomfortably beside me. Making certain that I didn't move too suddenly, I turned slowly and glanced at him. His hand had fallen to his waist. His fingers were curling around something, but it was too dark to see what.

"It doesn't matter," a third, more calm voice said. "They're all hiding out here somewhere. We've got guards patrolling every inch of every exit. They won't be escaping this forest."

The footsteps grew louder and louder until I was quite sure they were almost upon us, though I didn't lift my head to check. The glare of the intense light shimmered across my half open eyes.

"Wait-- what's that?"

I wanted to scream when the light rested on us, but Pulse remained where he was, his face expressionless. I hardly knew the guy, but it didn't take a whole lot of brainpower to know that he had one last trick up his sleeve.

One of the guards erupted in a brutal laughter and strode calmly forward to where we lay flat, staring at us like we were dying rodents.

"What do you know? We hit two birds with one stone."

He chuckled again. I slowly brought my gaze up to see a booted foot swinging in a wide arc just before it crashed across my face, sending me sprawling. Blood gushed from my mouth, and my head spun wildly.

"C'mon, Rob, we ain't here to kill them," another guard reminded him.

"We can kill just these two, can't we? C'mon, we can bury them out here. No one will ever know."

"Good luck with that," Pulse sneered. He hadn't moved an inch since the guards had found us, but his hand was still close by his side.

The guards all turned at once, as if surprised that their prey was capable of speaking. The largest one lumbered forward, his eyes narrowed. Pulse turned the glare away and sent back his own knifelike gaze.

"You mocking me?" the big man asked bitterly. "You think I can't kill you right now?"

"I know you can't kill me right now," Pulse snarled, a flash of an evil smile emerging on his lips. "You could try. Your friends over there could try. But you can't. None of you can. That's why you were hired to stand around all day and make sure that no one sneezed the wrong way."

The guard didn't respond. He seemed to be contemplating the statement as if it were some kind of intricate equation.

"Let's face it," Pulse added, his face glowing in delight. "You don't have the balls to kill a man."

At that moment, the guard snapped, and he raised his rifle to deliver a hushing blow to Pulse's face. The others tried to stop him, but to no avail. He was too large to tackle or stall. His finger was already resting on the trigger.

He was about to shoot...

There was a thunderous crack. Blood spurted and somebody screamed in agony. The flashlight's beam rested upon the huge guard, who stood silently with a mixture of emotions on his face. Then, suddenly, blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, and he dropped to the ground, the gun still fully loaded in his hand.

Pulse had shot first.

Then everything happened at once.

[Edited on 11.26.2009 3:31 PM PST]

  • 11.22.2009 5:09 AM PDT

To shame, Gallery forum, allowing this work of art to go ignored! To shame!

Nice work Murph, I like the way you described the Director of Darkwing, and I see you've gone finitely down the incredibly efficient route of giving main characters nicknames :). The story is heating up, for sure.

  • 11.26.2009 3:05 PM PDT

By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.

I'm quite partial to the line "all Hades broke loose" - guess I'm too much into that particular thing.

Anyways, I read this in the Mirratord and then again here lol. I'm loving how the story is developing, the characters interact really well with each other and I'm looking forwards to your new project ;D

  • 11.26.2009 3:16 PM PDT

Halo: Heretic or Hero---An Elite's Story
Choose your own destiny

FanFicFactor
Forged in the Flames of Passion, go forth and represent!

Posted by: ajw34307
I'm quite partial to the line "all Hades broke loose" - guess I'm too much into that particular thing.

Anyways, I read this in the Mirratord and then again here lol. I'm loving how the story is developing, the characters interact really well with each other and I'm looking forwards to your new project ;D


I agree, actually. I've used that line about...eight times or so. lol.

Fix'd,..sorta.

  • 11.26.2009 3:32 PM PDT
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whoa this is even beter than heretic or hero!!! i just finished reading the whole thing and i love the parts with the director especially...creepy...

nice work!

P.s will you be updating heretic or hero soon? i want to read that!

[Edited on 12.01.2009 1:37 PM PST]

  • 12.01.2009 1:35 PM PDT

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