Pyschotika
06-12-2006, 01:15
This is a story speaking of 'The Tournament'. Be prepared for actual 'sense-makeing', and deep deep drama. I'm planning to keep my skill in story telling and 'RPing' in check, and will be useing this as a background to a future RP I plan to do with others.
The Tournament
Table of Contents
Prologue --- Shipping Address
Chapter 1 --- A Welcome Home
The Prologue
Shipping Address
He sat there, almost in amasement, but actually in a mixed confusion. He read the paper again, then uttered out in almost a mocking way.
"You have been called to combat..." he hadn't quite believed it yet, but the man stood there waiting for him. He looked up and knew the man wouldn't let him weasal out, and so he sighed. Looked up again, then asked a simple question.
"Please, may I have twenty minutes?" He was extremely apathetic in the way he spoke, and he realized that wouldn't help him at all.
"No, you must gather what you need. There is a basic list in those papers, you have five minutes. Starting now." He just stood there, frozen. He could feel his children's eyes wrapping him in their own confusion, and he could almost feel like the plate that his wife had just dropped. He blinked back into movement, but it was as if he had put himself into auto-pilot. He felt himself brush the look of his wife off of him, and entered their bedroom. He had a duffle bag back from his old days as a soldier, yet today it would re-initiate it self as a soldier's only trace of a home. He didn't bother to view the little list, instead packed in what he knew as basic. He stuffed some boxers, some plane shirts, and a few pairs of socks. He looked to the dresser to his right, and reached for the first picture that caught him. The thing which momentarily brought him out of auto-pilot. It was him and his only family he had ever come to know. He smiled, feeling his tear ducts building up. He was reaching for it when he heard the large man's voice erupt.
"SERGEANT RUSTOV, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I DRAG YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!" His voice was so loud that it even caused him to tense, none the less erupt his youngest child into a burst of crying. He stuffed the picture with it's frame intact deep down into his dufflebag, and slung it over his shoulder. His feet flew through the hallway, and his auto-piloting left his family in blissful ingorance. He didn't even turn, didn't even wince. What a mad world it had become, forever his children never to know pappa ever again.
Chapter One
A Welcome Home
"Liuetenant 1st Class Varick 'Domino' Rustov." Came from a hard voice, masked by the darkness of the room. "Please, tell me Lieutenant..why is it that they call you Domino?" The voice was more 'qualm', releasing some tension in the room. Varick remained silent for quite some time, and the man spoke up after a few minutes of silence. "Liutenant Rustove, I do believe I asked you a question. Now, you will answer me, or will I have to prick you?" He seemed 'cool' with himself, of course prick being a 'fluffier' way of something much more worst. Varick was silent for a moment longer, and spoke up right as the man's voice began to grumble into motion.
"They call me Domino because of my middle name, Counsel." He said, and waited for the man to ask him in a more specific way.
"Lieutenant, why is it, though, have you earned your nick name?" The man waited, and Varick decided not to test a Counsel's patience. He began to speak, painting out the very day.
Military Installation Z-3106
Somewhere with-in Delta Province...
"Sergeant Varick Domonic Rustov..." echoed a familiar voice.
"Veteran of the Ible Incursion, your documents show some very impressive notes I might say. Tell me, would you have happened to serve under Fox Company?" He asked, being the first 'friendly' voice thus far. Varick looked at the man, and still couldn't piece together his familiarity.
"No, sir, but I did serve under Eagle Company." He said, and he noticed the man's face light up.
"Varick, do you remember me?" He asked, in a non-professional way. Varick blinked, then he thought. Was it...? No, but he was dead!
"Irik?" He said, feeling a mixture of sad and glad. The man smiled, and nodded at him. It seemed that the continuation of his Military career would not be so bad after all.
----
----
Varick took cover behind a wall of what seemed to be an old home, but was now just some bombed out building. He could hear the screams of many, the screams of the dying and those of the living. He heard the screamings of war, the bullets plunging all around him. His breath had, for some time, turned shallow. He could not bear the stench, the stench of a dying man's bouls. Irik lay bleeding out of his chest, his lips mumbling in silence. It was as sudden as he had fallen, his eyes just rolled to the back of his head and the hand which he held high slowly slumped down. Varick could cry but he didn't, he only blinked. It was the only thing he could really do for his friend, for Irik. He stared off into that dead face, then he himself slumped his head.
"Dear God in Heaven..." he mumbled, grasping his assault rifle close to his chest as if it were a shield. "Please guide my friend to your blessed home, please ensure that his arrival is soon. I pray to thee that thou shall look kindly upon him, and accept him through the Gates of Heaven." he continued to mumble despite a bullet whizzing through the brittle brick wall, and past his head. He finished his prayer, and thought to himself. 'Am I going to die this day?' he thought, never feeling this scared in his life. Of course he had been in combat before, but today was just different. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a reflective piece of metal. He rubbed it against one of his sleeves, and put it out just a tad. There was a nest holding three men, a man with a C-32 Assault Rifle and two men on a grusomely designed Machine Gun.
A bullet from the assault rifle pinged the mirror, obviously it must have shined. The machine gun ripped open, and he lunged to his left as the piece of refractive metal fell to the ground. He was crawling away, ignoring his dead friend. He crawled in a prone-position towards the other end of the bombed out building. He was going to make a run to the next building, and then go up the stairs through it's back entrance. He had reached the edge, and peared out slightly to see if anyone was guarding this alleyway. There was one man, but he had looked towards the nest as if he was annoyed by the random burst of fire. He took his chances, and jolted to his feet and to the other building. He clenched his rifle even closer to him, thanking God and everything else for protecting him. He went across the wall, towards a door.
----
----
Comming Soon...
Hope you like so far. The beginning feels rushed-ish mostly because I'm trying to get past the beginning of how he came to be Domino, and how he became a Lieutenant.
The Tournament
Table of Contents
Prologue --- Shipping Address
Chapter 1 --- A Welcome Home
The Prologue
Shipping Address
He sat there, almost in amasement, but actually in a mixed confusion. He read the paper again, then uttered out in almost a mocking way.
"You have been called to combat..." he hadn't quite believed it yet, but the man stood there waiting for him. He looked up and knew the man wouldn't let him weasal out, and so he sighed. Looked up again, then asked a simple question.
"Please, may I have twenty minutes?" He was extremely apathetic in the way he spoke, and he realized that wouldn't help him at all.
"No, you must gather what you need. There is a basic list in those papers, you have five minutes. Starting now." He just stood there, frozen. He could feel his children's eyes wrapping him in their own confusion, and he could almost feel like the plate that his wife had just dropped. He blinked back into movement, but it was as if he had put himself into auto-pilot. He felt himself brush the look of his wife off of him, and entered their bedroom. He had a duffle bag back from his old days as a soldier, yet today it would re-initiate it self as a soldier's only trace of a home. He didn't bother to view the little list, instead packed in what he knew as basic. He stuffed some boxers, some plane shirts, and a few pairs of socks. He looked to the dresser to his right, and reached for the first picture that caught him. The thing which momentarily brought him out of auto-pilot. It was him and his only family he had ever come to know. He smiled, feeling his tear ducts building up. He was reaching for it when he heard the large man's voice erupt.
"SERGEANT RUSTOV, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I DRAG YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!" His voice was so loud that it even caused him to tense, none the less erupt his youngest child into a burst of crying. He stuffed the picture with it's frame intact deep down into his dufflebag, and slung it over his shoulder. His feet flew through the hallway, and his auto-piloting left his family in blissful ingorance. He didn't even turn, didn't even wince. What a mad world it had become, forever his children never to know pappa ever again.
Chapter One
A Welcome Home
"Liuetenant 1st Class Varick 'Domino' Rustov." Came from a hard voice, masked by the darkness of the room. "Please, tell me Lieutenant..why is it that they call you Domino?" The voice was more 'qualm', releasing some tension in the room. Varick remained silent for quite some time, and the man spoke up after a few minutes of silence. "Liutenant Rustove, I do believe I asked you a question. Now, you will answer me, or will I have to prick you?" He seemed 'cool' with himself, of course prick being a 'fluffier' way of something much more worst. Varick was silent for a moment longer, and spoke up right as the man's voice began to grumble into motion.
"They call me Domino because of my middle name, Counsel." He said, and waited for the man to ask him in a more specific way.
"Lieutenant, why is it, though, have you earned your nick name?" The man waited, and Varick decided not to test a Counsel's patience. He began to speak, painting out the very day.
Military Installation Z-3106
Somewhere with-in Delta Province...
"Sergeant Varick Domonic Rustov..." echoed a familiar voice.
"Veteran of the Ible Incursion, your documents show some very impressive notes I might say. Tell me, would you have happened to serve under Fox Company?" He asked, being the first 'friendly' voice thus far. Varick looked at the man, and still couldn't piece together his familiarity.
"No, sir, but I did serve under Eagle Company." He said, and he noticed the man's face light up.
"Varick, do you remember me?" He asked, in a non-professional way. Varick blinked, then he thought. Was it...? No, but he was dead!
"Irik?" He said, feeling a mixture of sad and glad. The man smiled, and nodded at him. It seemed that the continuation of his Military career would not be so bad after all.
----
----
Varick took cover behind a wall of what seemed to be an old home, but was now just some bombed out building. He could hear the screams of many, the screams of the dying and those of the living. He heard the screamings of war, the bullets plunging all around him. His breath had, for some time, turned shallow. He could not bear the stench, the stench of a dying man's bouls. Irik lay bleeding out of his chest, his lips mumbling in silence. It was as sudden as he had fallen, his eyes just rolled to the back of his head and the hand which he held high slowly slumped down. Varick could cry but he didn't, he only blinked. It was the only thing he could really do for his friend, for Irik. He stared off into that dead face, then he himself slumped his head.
"Dear God in Heaven..." he mumbled, grasping his assault rifle close to his chest as if it were a shield. "Please guide my friend to your blessed home, please ensure that his arrival is soon. I pray to thee that thou shall look kindly upon him, and accept him through the Gates of Heaven." he continued to mumble despite a bullet whizzing through the brittle brick wall, and past his head. He finished his prayer, and thought to himself. 'Am I going to die this day?' he thought, never feeling this scared in his life. Of course he had been in combat before, but today was just different. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a reflective piece of metal. He rubbed it against one of his sleeves, and put it out just a tad. There was a nest holding three men, a man with a C-32 Assault Rifle and two men on a grusomely designed Machine Gun.
A bullet from the assault rifle pinged the mirror, obviously it must have shined. The machine gun ripped open, and he lunged to his left as the piece of refractive metal fell to the ground. He was crawling away, ignoring his dead friend. He crawled in a prone-position towards the other end of the bombed out building. He was going to make a run to the next building, and then go up the stairs through it's back entrance. He had reached the edge, and peared out slightly to see if anyone was guarding this alleyway. There was one man, but he had looked towards the nest as if he was annoyed by the random burst of fire. He took his chances, and jolted to his feet and to the other building. He clenched his rifle even closer to him, thanking God and everything else for protecting him. He went across the wall, towards a door.
----
----
Comming Soon...
Hope you like so far. The beginning feels rushed-ish mostly because I'm trying to get past the beginning of how he came to be Domino, and how he became a Lieutenant.