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Thread: Rewrite

  1. #25
    Otaku Muffin is off to a good start
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    Re: Rewrite

    The Rift; or The Sphere as Magnus nicknamed it*. Magnus had traveled many times through this device and each time hadn't been the highlight of his life. He gave himself the luxury of a personal sigh then moved towards the gangway.
    As was normal, the light appeared to be a bright piercing white; similar to the lights used in medical and surgical areas; and wasn't until he entered that it dulled to a comforting purple, deep in hugh. Magnus selected the seat dead centre of the room facing the door. He sat and slowly sunk into the chair like a giant marshmallow, but not as sticky and nowhere near as suseptable to water.
    Magnus folded his arms and waited for the 'fun' to happen.

    He loved The Rift!

    *It should be noted that although Magnus is far from stupid; although to what it is in comparisson to is unknown; he'll often refer to things by a different name and pretend it's slang simply because he forgets what it's called.
    Baldrick, you wouldn't see a subtle plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a Harpsichord sining "Subtle plans are here again!"

  2. #26
    Otaku psychical is off to a good start psychical's Avatar
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    An Offer You Simply Can't Refuse, Part 1

    Somewhere in Upstate New York lies a place invisible to many and inaccessible to the few who stumbled upon its existence. Most people driving past would see little else but lush greenery, and perhaps a cow or two, and think nothing of it; the few curious enough to do a little more scouting would be stopped in their tracks by men in fatigues, telling them that they had no business near a restricted area. In most cases, fear gets the better of them, and they turn tail never to return, like sensible human beings. As for the few who decided that they have to find out for themselves (and for the rest of the world) what the place really was about, no matter what it took... Well, we can't say for sure.

    However, what we do know is that today the men and women in fatigues who run the place have been tasked with keeping watch over a most "special" guest. For in a reinforced concrete room in a building (now we know the place has at least one building) beyond the barbed-wire fence that encircled the place, a young girl was thumbing half-heartedly through a steamy romance paperback, courtesy of a more thoughtful guard. The room's sole exit was guarded by a steel door shut tight and four armed men posted outside.

    Nothing else was in the room save a wooden table, a clear bottle of Perrier, a dusty old light-bulb that dangled from a wire overhead, the chair the girl made herself "comfortable" in, and a similar chair, just across the table. Besides herself, she concluded, this room housed more boredom than she ever thought was possible. They had taken her wristwatch away, along with the rest of her belongings; she no longer knew how long she'd been in there. It couldn't have been more than half a day, she reassured herself; if they wanted to keep me in here longer, they would've locked me up in a real prison cell... with a toilet and a cot and stuff.

    At least a bit of fun was to be had as she stumbled through clumsy love scenes and cheesy dialogue, yet even unintentionally humorous scenes were few and far between. There were better ways to waste her time, she thought. She could pretend that the flickering light bulb was relaying to her, in Morse code, a message from God-knows-where. If that were the case, then the message was sent in vain; she never took the time to learn what all those dots and dashes meant. So much for that, then. On the other hand, if she really wanted to, she could play with the Perrier she had in ways other people would find impossible, but no; what she did earlier today gave her captors more than enough reason to worry, and she didn't want to raise any more red flags. After a long yawn, she resigned herself to three (or was it four?) more hours of Mills and Boon.

    The novel ended with the hero and heroine riding off into the sunset after some torrid afternoon delight. No surprise there.

    The room was gray, the air was drab. What am I supposed to do now? she thought. Go over the novel... again?

    "Hey... can I have another novel?" she called. No response.

    "Great," she muttered. "I'm a growing girl, so at least don't forget to feed me." She slumped over the table and dozed off. She would be awakened later on, though not as rudely as she (or you, or I) would expect.

    * * *

    A prickly tingle ran through the girl's arms as she slowly came to. She had been using her folded arms as a pillow, after all. A black lady in a pantsuit sat on the chair that had been empty hours before. The girl observed her carefully; by the way she flipped through her file, this woman meant business. More importantly though, on the table rested a box of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts (whose aroma supplanted the room's scentless air, the girl noticed), and two espressos. The girl's stomach grumbled.

    As though prompted by the grumbling, the woman put her file down.

    "Hello, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Special Agent Angela Warner, and I'm with the FBI. Just in case you're wondering, I've been here for about three hours now," she said, glancing at her watch. "Here, have some doughnuts and a coffee."

    "No thanks. This Perrier should do just fine." the girl said mumbled she twisted the cap off the bottle, though in reality she wanted a doughnut and an espresso. The bottle was empty in a matter of seconds.

    "OK, but feel free to have some just in case you change your mind. Anyways, I'm here mainly to ask questions, though I'm aware that you might have some in mind yourself... So go ahead, ask away."

    The girl was silent at first; something's wrong here. Warner said nothing, as her eyes returned to her file, taking a sip from her espresso.

    But the girl did have questions, and a good deal of them were begging to be let out. Finally relenting, she asked Warner, "What time is it?"

    "It's 11:24 pm. At 2:13 pm today, you were taken into custody, if I recall correctly."

    The girl heaved a sigh of relief; she was right about how long she's been locked up.

    "Where am I?"

    "Upstate New York, though I'm not to disclose where our exact location is."

    "No way..." the girl said, her voice trailing off.

    "Way."

    "Wow." Just like in the movies, the girl thought.

    Yet she could not take her mind off her hunger, which grew more and more unforgiving as the minutes went by. Forgetting what she said earlier, the girl reached for a doughnut, which she wolfed down faster than you could say Jack Robinson. Warner tried to suppress a grin as she herself took a doughnut as well.

    "Fine. What am I doing here?" the girl asked as she wiped her mouth with her jacket's sleeve.

    "You're here to help me out here by answering some questions."

    "Oh."

    "Do you have any more questions before we begin?"

    "I don't suppose so."

    "very well." Warner glanced at her file again. "The file says your name is Fatima Sfeir, though your friends call you Timmy."

    "You can call me Fatima."

    "Fatima it is, then. Age seventeen, ethnicity Arab."

    "Lebanese," Timmy corrected.

    Warner cleared her throat. "Lebanese. Religion, Maronite Catholic. Non-citizen, green card holder. Current residence, St. Clare's, Harlem, New York City. Ever been to a Globetrotters game?"

    "Nope."

    "Me neither. Furthermore, your file says you've been orphaned since the age of two; the sisters running the girls' home say you showed up on their doorstep one rainy afternoon, carrying a letter in French asking the nuns to 'take care of our daughter while we handle some important business.' You didn't speak a word of English back then."

    "That's right."

    "Your duties at St. Clare's include, besides the chores expected of all the girls and your studies, include library duty, coaching the soccer team for younger girls, teaching woodworking, and escorting Sister Martha Benedicta to the bank every last Friday of the month... Though it's the last I'm interested in."

    "And why?"

    "That's where you were this afternoon."

    Timmy hesitated at first, but continued anyway. "Just to collect donations. Most of the donations we get come from outside of New York state, sometimes even from Canada and beyond... so the Clares opened an account with the Bank of America down the street just a few years back."

    "And a good deal of donations come from where...?"

    "The countries textbooks call 'third-world'. Think Nigeria, East Timor, the Philippines, Panama, Sri Lanka. Et cetera. Surprising, huh?"

    "I'd have to agree. Is Sister Martha aware of that, too?"

    "Yeah... She told me on our way to the bank just this afternoon, 'Timmy, these days always take what you read in textbooks these days with a grain of salt. I've never given it much though before, but after going through our records, it has occurred to me that those who have, have nothing to give, and those who have nothing, have to give.'"

    "Hmm... Wise words, those. Is she your teacher?"

    "I wish." Timmy took another doughnut from the box. Warner pretended not to notice.

    "So what's a regular day like at the bank?"

    "Sister Martha's not so fond of anything with buttons, so she has to take out cash the old-fashioned way. Always 60% of what we get every month, except during emergencies and... Hey, hold on a sec."

    "Huh? Why?"

    "You're not interrogating me. Aren't you supposed to?"

    Warner paused, as if to consider carefully what Timmy said. "You know, you're right. But I'd rather not. Would you like me to?"

    "Well, I... Uh..."

    "Don't worry. I said I was here to ask you questions, wasn't I? Come to think of it, I don't recall ever mentioning the word 'interrogate'... and they forgot to put recording equipment here, so they'll have to take me at my word. But, fine." Warner opened her briefcase and took out a manilla envelope. "Though I suppose you could help me out here, given the 'special' way you defused the recent standoff at the bank." Timmy winced.

    Warner slipped the envelope across the table over to Timmy. Timmy opened the envelope and saw it contained four black-and-white polaroids.

    "A bald man in shades whispering something to a possible accomplice; a woman going through clothes at a department store; a scrawny guy speaking from behind a lectern; and a chubby hombre enjoying himself at a Burger King. Allen Miller, Jane Sanders, Philip Atkinson, and Brian Woodrow, respectively."

    "Never heard of them."

    "But you've met them at the bank. Just this afternoon. Of course, you wouldn't recognize them from under those ski masks, and you weren't happy to see Sister Martha held hostage at gunpoint. And after what you just did, I wager they weren't too happy to have made your acquaintance, either."
    Last edited by psychical; Oct 16, 2008 at 05:20 PM.
    Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

  3. #27
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    Re: Rewrite

    Muea entered the Rift, the light shifted to sunlight falling through a leafy forest for her. She often pondered how the light could shift into a spectrum for each different individual in side and still not effect all the others. She would figure it out one day. She approached her chair, walking behind it to settle herself in. It supports her from mid abdomen along the thick(and somewhat inflexible) part of her tail. She smiled as everyone else came in and got settled. Of course the first thing your going to notice is a mouth full of very sharp teeth.

    Anything is Pawsable
    Growing old is Mandatory-Growing up is Optional

  4. #28
    Ever So Awesome Kaboom Champion, Archery Champion, Crazy Pool 2 Champion, Ninja-Boy Champion, Bubble Shooter Champion zyta may be famous one day zyta may be famous one day zyta's Avatar
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    Re: Rewrite

    Totschlager stepped off the Rift first and breathed in the air of the new reality heavily. The ground was firm, like stone, but rough, like sandpaper. All the formalities of life were absent. There were no sounds to be heard that were natural to this realm, no wind to sooth in, no smell to agitate your taste buds, no… anything.

    Suddenly there was a loud crack like lightning somewhere far off in the distance. Totschlager turned his head in the sound’s direction, but didn’t need to; the sound happened all around the group every few seconds. The reality of the world shimmered, the unseen threads that held everything together snapped with a loud crack as a shockwave of pure insurmountable energy shook the ground and all the surrounding area. Just as quickly as the threads snapped, they bonded together again, desperate to restore what little of reality they could, it was their very being. When the threads snapped there was a flash of light like fire from a volcano, the light erupted in all directions and burned deep gashes into everything it touched. The habitants had long been evacuated to another reality and time.

    The only living beings here that moved were the Time Policed that were stationed here, their red eyes glowing with a fiery hue. Their movements were seen from the Rift, they stood like sentinels and their metal armor blended them almost perfectly in with the surrounding landscape. Totschlager spoke loudly, using every bit of his authorative tone to call out to the group.

    “This is Death,” announced Totschlager pointing to the systematic rotting of reality all around them. “This is what each of you have been convicted of starting. I’m sure you can see the absurdity of the situation. Before we move into the planet further, do any of you have any questions? Remember that your life depends on knowing as much as you can, especially in this situation.”

    Visit my blog: Rewriting Life

  5. #29
    Otaku Sneakyarrow is off to a good start Sneakyarrow's Avatar
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    Re: Rewrite

    Drune looks around, taken in by the scene. He thought it looked kind of cool...
    “This is Death,” announced Totschlager pointing to the systematic rotting of reality all around them. “This is what each of you have been convicted of starting. I’m sure you can see the absurdity of the situation. Before we move into the planet further, do any of you have any questions? Remember that your life depends on knowing as much as you can, especially in this situation.”
    Drune looked at Totschlager and raised a hand.
    "I have a question. How do we fight 'Death' or what do we do to stop it? I mean, everything I know seems to have been marked useless ever since you guys kidnapped me."

    Est Sularis oth Mithas
    Going home soon.

  6. #30
    Newbie Kismet is off to a good start
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    Re: Rewrite

    'Death, huh..' She could swear she had seen this before. Nyx both her arms up and placed each hand palm to palm. ''This is MY domain..." she said quietly as to not alarm anybody. This is where Nyx would teleport on a normal basis. These time police were ruining her area. She was not very happy about this.." THIS IS MY DOMAIN!" She said louder to get attention. " HOW DARE YOU INVADE THE SANCTUARY!"

  7. #31
    Otaku Muffin is off to a good start
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    Re: Rewrite

    Magnus lurched out of The Rift, trying to not show any signs of discomfort. His pride was on the line and he would be damned if a little nausia would get the better of him, but this time it felt different.
    Do the other Time Police get this feeling or is it just me?
    Magnus was at a loss at how to describe this feeling and decided it couldn't be comprahended in any known language, but if his Gut Instinct didn't like it neither did he.
    Magnus' good eye took in the impressive landscape before him; in the fact that there wasn't any. There were faint fizzies and cracks about him of reality being streched to breaking point.

    “This is Death,” Totschlager's voice rung out and sounded hollow in this environment.

    "THIS IS MY DOMAIN!"
    Magnus looked directly at the woman from who this issued.
    "HOW DARE YOU INVADE THE SANCTUARY!"

    "Silence! This Reality is as much it's own as the stars are themselves! No-one can own a Reality, mearly inhabit it!" Magnus' voice cracked like a whip amid the constricting nothingness surounding. He them didn't like to reveal this side of his persona, but The Rift put him in quite a mood.
    "Should you wish to Heal this 'Domain', listen carefully!"
    Baldrick, you wouldn't see a subtle plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a Harpsichord sining "Subtle plans are here again!"

  8. #32
    Ever So Awesome Kaboom Champion, Archery Champion, Crazy Pool 2 Champion, Ninja-Boy Champion, Bubble Shooter Champion zyta may be famous one day zyta may be famous one day zyta's Avatar
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    Re: Rewrite

    “Well said,” Totschlager said nodding to Magnus. His voice was drowned, however, by the cracking of the reality and the blinding flash of light. “This may be a place that you are familiar with, but this is its future. There is no escaping that fact—“ the Time Police leader waved his arms wide around him, showing everyone the destruction that Death could do, even in the earliest stages. The threads reality cracked behind Totschlager, his face became darkened for a second. “If you wish to return this reality to what you remember, your cherished memories, then you will help us restore it, possibly prevent it from happening to other peoples’ memories!”

    Totschlager looked into the eyes of each of the others before turning around and began walking down the rock faced cliff. The walk would take about ten minutes from the Rift to the center of the time Police encampment. Though Totschlager walked in silence, he kept his ears open for anyone else… and perhaps more.

    Visit my blog: Rewriting Life

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