Project Exile

[demon-fayt]

Because I keep putting this off, maybe this will give me incentive to continue on with my writing. Basically what I'll do here is post up new segments of my writing on the story that I'm basing off of my game concept (one day I'll get onto re-posting that '-__-) This is all I have for now, and when I write more, I'll post it up here. Please give feedback and suggestions as to what you think would make it better. Enjoy!

Chap 1 (so far)


t was bright. The bright illumine scent lights lining the corridor were a rude greeting for Kent. He made his way down the corridor towards a  doorway at the end. The entire hallway leading up to the door was filled with other 'Scientists' working at I-CON. They stood there, like stone  gargoyles, as he made his way down, Each one perfectly filling out their white overcoats, each branded with the I-CON insignia.
   The corridor itself not much more to look at. Its walls made of a snow-white marble, which made it all the more harder for Kent to see as  they reflected the lighting to make the corridor one bright blank, occasionally breaking to show the black lettering of each room. As Kent reached his  destination, the room at the very end of the corridor marked 'Presentation Room', he could feel the weight of his hand, and suddenly remembered his  reasoning for being here. The room itself looked like it was used for every major battle that had happened since the beginning of man. It was a relatively  large room, and the smooth marble floor, or what was left of it, had been splintered around the room, leaving numerous craters that Kent had to navigate  around to get to the center. The wall themselves looked much the same. the only thing relatively intact was the ceiling, as it was too far above for  anything to do to much damage. One of the lesser damaged walls also functioned as a shield and window for those observing such 'presentations'. Kent  could feel the cold watchful eyes behind the glass, and could almost tell exactly to whom each pair belonged to.
   Kent had also had the privilege of being one of these observers many times. He stood in the center of the room, which was illuminated  just like the corridor, which made it all the more detracting to look at. He waited for the voices to start from behind the glass. Though he had never  been in this room, he still knew the process, and so was a little at ease. He never let his face betray him when he felt most nervous. "State your  name" a voice came, seemingly from the depths of the room itself. The voice was at once commanding, yet as well wavering. "Kent Miller" Kent said,  as though it was a programmed response: emotionless and immediate."What is the subject that you will be presenting today?" the voice asked again. At  this point, Kent lifted up the object in his left hand. It was a sword, roughly the length of Kent’s own arm. It was a small broadsword, but the center,  extending from  the hilt to almost the tip of the blade, was hollowed out. The blade itself a dull metallic grey, yet gleamed brilliantly with the lighting of the room. The hilt was ordained with a simple spiral design, and an I-CON insignia placed on its bottom.    Kent could almost hear the snickering in the observation room. In this age, armed combat rarely extended beyond high-tech firearms. "So you've called us here for an antiques gallery?" one of the voices questioned from the room. Knowing that this would be the reaction he would get, he ignored the question and moved on with his presentation. Raising his arm, he started:
   "What I have noticed of most weaponry created of late is that they don't offer much diversity.. I feel that as a way to move foreword, we must look back to the weapons of yesteryear. As a reliable tool in the face of close-quarter combat, the sword is the handiest of tools. Archaic in this age, you may think, but consider the circumstances for its practicality. Standard weapons, such as the beam-rifle or PG, can only perform teir initial function, and after doing so are of no use (as is the case with the PG). The BR can be reused, but only after a period of cool-down, and even then, maintenance requires that one perform various replacements or parts. The sword, or rather this sword, is..."
    "Please spare us the history lesson and present your can-opener, Mr. Miller"
   As soon as this remark was made, another wave of snickering came from the room. At this point, Kent called for a large metal slab be brought in. "I can tell you will only learn by viewing, so I'll skip the tell part of this show." With a slight flick of his hand, he tossed the sword into the air, showing its light weight. As it spun through the air, it continued to gleam blaringly from the light of the surrounding room, eventually becoming shrouded in a blinding light.
   As is came downward, the blade sailed clean through the slab as though it were made of paper, yet the slab had shown no indication of change as it went through. Finally, the blade hit the ground, and as Kent went to retrieve it, the slab had then begun to fall apart in opposing directions. "Light in weight, yet heavy in action: the Tritanium steel provides fighters with speed and durability, never slowing them down or leaving them in danger. It is also a useful tool for accessing areas by using force to cut through objects barring progress."
   After this statement, there was a brief period of silence before a voice uttered "Ok, so I’m moderately impressed by the hardware, but would you mind explaining what the purpose of that string  in the middle of the blade is for?" Kent lifted the blade in one arm, holding the edge outward, and with a motion of his arm, the blades spun backwards so as to ark back on the hilt, away from his arm. At this time, the ribbon, which had been connected to the edge of one blade as they spun, had seemed to come to life as is searched for the edge of the other blade. The end result was a very jagged-looking bow, with the hilt of the sword being the handle, as well as the guide.
   "So now we've signed up for archery lessons as well?" Yet more snickering. This was beginning to irritate Kent, though he would not allow it to show on his face, but rather in his actions.
   Before the snickering had time to subside, there was a large thudding noise on the screen opposite the observant view, though none of them could see what had caused it.

[demon-fayt]

lookit that! 0 responses, and yet I'm already being berated for revisions. So here, I wrote a bit more, but it's still not done.


Chapter 1

It was bright. The bright illumine scent lights lining the corridor were a rude greeting for Kent. He made his way down the corridor towards a doorway at the end. The entire hallway leading up to the door was filled with other 'Scientists' working at I-CON. They stood there, like stone gargoyles, as he made his way down, each one perfectly filling out their white overcoats, each branded with the I-CON insignia.
   The corridor itself not much more to look at; Its walls made of a snow-white marble, which made it all the more harder for Kent to see as  they reflected the lighting to make the corridor one bright blank, occasionally breaking to show the black lettering of each room. As Kent reached his destination, the room at the very end of the corridor marked 'Presentation Room', he could feel the weight of his hand, and suddenly remembered his  reasoning for being here. The room itself looked like it was used for every major battle that had happened since the beginning of man. It was a relatively large room, and the smooth marble floor, or what was left of it, had been splintered around the room, leaving numerous craters that Kent had to navigate  around to get to the center. The wall themselves looked much the same. the only thing relatively intact was the ceiling, as it was too far above for  anything to do to much damage. One of the lesser damaged walls also functioned as a shield and window for those observing such 'presentations'. Kent could feel the cold watchful eyes behind the glass, and could almost tell exactly to whom each pair belonged to.
   Kent had also had the privilege of being one of these observers many times. He stood in the center of the room, which was illuminated just like the corridor, which made it all the more detracting to look at. He waited for the voices to start from behind the glass. Though he had never been in this room, he still knew the process, and so was a little at ease. He never let his face betray him when he felt most nervous. "State your name" a voice came, seemingly from the depths of the room itself. The voice was at once commanding, yet as well wavering. "Kent Miller" Kent said,  as though it was a programmed response: emotionless and immediate."What is the subject that you will be presenting today?" the voice asked again. At this point, Kent lifted up the object in his left hand. It was a sword, roughly the length of Kent’s own arm. It was a small broadsword, but the center, extending from  the hilt to almost the tip of the blade, was hollowed out. The blade itself a dull metallic grey, yet gleamed brilliantly with the lighting of the room. The hilt was ordained with a simple spiral design, and an I-CON insignia placed on its bottom.    Kent could almost hear the snickering in the observation room. In this age, armed combat rarely extended beyond high-tech firearms. "So you've called us here for an antiques gallery?" one of the voices questioned from the room. Knowing that this would be the reaction he would get, he ignored the question and moved on with his presentation. Raising his arm, he started:
   "What I have noticed of most weaponry created of late is that they don't offer much diversity.. I feel that as a way to move foreword, we must look back to the weapons of yesteryear. As a reliable tool in the face of close-quarter combat, the sword is the handiest of tools. Archaic in this age, you may think, but consider the circumstances for its practicality. Standard weapons, such as the beam-rifle or PG, can only perform their initial function, and after doing so are of no use (as is the case with the PG). The BR can be reused, but only after a period of cool-down, and even then, maintenance requires that one perform various replacements or parts. The sword, or rather this sword, is..."
    "Please spare us the history lesson and present your can-opener, Mr. Miller"
   As soon as this remark was made, another wave of snickering came from the room. At this point, Kent called for a large metal slab be brought in. "I can tell you will only learn by viewing, so I'll skip the tell part of this show." With a slight flick of his hand, he tossed the sword into the air, showing its light weight. As it spun through the air, it continued to gleam blaringly from the light of the surrounding room, eventually becoming shrouded in a blinding light.
   As is came downward, the blade sailed clean through the slab as though it were made of paper, yet the slab had shown no indication of change as it went through. Finally, the blade hit the ground, and as Kent went to retrieve it, the slab had then begun to fall apart in opposing directions. "Light in weight, yet heavy in action: the Tritanium steel provides fighters with speed and durability, never slowing them down or leaving them in danger. It is also a useful tool for accessing areas by using force to cut through objects barring progress."
   After this statement, there was a brief period of silence before a voice uttered "Ok, so I’m moderately impressed by the hardware, but would you mind explaining what the purpose of that string in the middle of the blade is for?" Kent lifted the blade in one arm, holding the edge outward, and with a motion of his arm, the blades spun backwards so as to ark back on the hilt, away from his arm. At this time, the ribbon, which had been connected to the edge of one blade as they spun, had seemed to come to life as is searched for the edge of the other blade. The end result was a very jagged-looking bow, with the hilt of the sword being the handle, as well as the guide.
   "So now we've signed up for archery lessons as well?" Yet more snickering. This was beginning to irritate Kent, though he would not allow it to show on his face, but rather in his actions.
   Before the snickering had time to subside, there was a large thudding noise on the screen opposite the observant view, though none of them could see what had caused it. The force of the impact was so much that it even knocked one observant off their feet. “What are you trying to pull, Mr. Miller?” the voice demanded, quivering. “Well, you wanted a demonstration. I am merely demonstrating.” Kent said this with a smile that hinted at triumph. “What you have just experienced is the new frontier in future combat; this form presents the ability to provide the fighter with a ranged attack that is not reliant on any source other than the very air we breathe; It uses a fairly standard Air-Canon system that has been modified just so to ramp up output capacity due to the condensed barrel size; essentially, the harder you pull back on this string, the greater the charge, and thereby the output will be for the cannon. This will provide a reliable companion piece to modern weaponry. Imagine for a moment that you are a soldier on the fronts of the Straum belt, and you and your squad are fighting off a wave of Earthlings: while in the middle of this battle, your riffle suddenly overheats, or possibly worse, malfunctions completely. Instead of being rendered defenseless, or having to resort to a pistol, you would have the ability to fight onward; and better yet, you could take the fight to them personally, if needed.”
   There was a pause in the room as the viewers took this information in. As he waited around for a conclusion on his presentation, Kent returned the bow back to its original form with another motioning of his arm. As the blade had completed reformation, the voice had come back to greet Kent with a verdict.
   “Alright, Mr. Miller; you have presented your...”
   “It’s called the EX-beta, For ‘Excalibur Cross’. We thought that it should be named after the most well-known blade of all time.”
   “Huh, Interesting. I though I was finished with all of my history lessons years ago, yet here I am with another.
   

Yeah, I need a bit more time for further review, but if you have any thought about anything, please share them

[Kadaj]

Some things left over:

illumine scent

there, like stone

Try dropping the comma.

Its walls made

Drop the capital on Its and add were between walls and made.

his  reasoning for being here

It should be reason, and no double space before it.

The wall themselves

same. the only

can-opener, Mr. Miller"

No punctuation.

called for a large metal slab be brought in.

gleam blaringly

Blaringly is not a word.

As is came downward,

The force of the impact was so much that

So much what?

“Huh, Interesting. I though I was finished with all of my history lessons years ago, yet here I am with another.

Interesting is capitalized, and there is no end quote.

[demon-fayt]

um..ok. Thanks for that. But i was more concerned with feedback dealing with the overall story.

[Kadri]

um..ok. Thanks for that. But i was more concerned with feedback dealing with the overall story.

Right now, the story is okay. You just have to stay consistent as you get further into it, to hold our attention.

And just a suggestion: It might help us when we're reading if you will proofread, and maybe run it through a spell checker, before you post your work up. I have a hard time getting a good handle on the story when I have to reread something 2 or 3 times to make sure I know what's going on.

Have you thought about finding someone to beta for you? I've used betas before, and their input has always been really helpful whenever I'm working on something.

[demon-fayt]

Well, my older sister was doing that for me for a time, but I am capable of doing it myself after the fact. And I am doing my best to come up with the most engaging story I can so far. I can't help but notice that you have stated that so far, it is only 'okay'. Is there anything I can do to make it better than just okay, you think?

[demon-fayt]

Ok, so I finally finished the 1st chapter. Not perfect, no, and I haven't done the proofreading yet, but I wanted to let you guys see how the rest of the chapter would play out overall. Please give your feedback on anything you feel is noteworthy (Yes, kadaj, even grammar '-__-)


Chapter 1

It was bright; the bright illuminesent lights lining the corridor were a rude greeting for Kent. He made his way down the corridor towards a doorway at the end. The entire hallway leading up to the door was filled with other 'Scientists' working at I-CON. They stood there, like stone gargoyles, as he made his way down, each one perfectly filling out their white overcoats, each branded with the I-CON insignia.
   The corridor itself not much more to look at; Its walls made of a snow-white marble, which made it all the more harder for Kent to see as  they reflected the lighting to make the corridor one bright blank, occasionally breaking to show the black lettering of each room. As Kent reached his destination, the room at the very end of the corridor marked 'Presentation Room', he could feel the weight of his hand, and suddenly remembered his reason for being here. The room itself looked like it was used for every major battle that had happened since the beginning of man. It was a relatively large room, and the smooth marble floor, or what was left of it, had been splintered around the room, leaving numerous craters that Kent had to navigate around to get to the center. The wall themselves looked much the same. The only thing relatively intact was the ceiling, as it was too far above for anything to do too much damage. One of the lesser damaged walls also functioned as a shield and window for those observing such 'presentations'. Kent could feel the cold watchful eyes behind the glass, and could almost tell exactly to whom each pair belonged to.
   Kent had also had the privilege of being one of these observers many times. He stood in the center of the room, which was illuminated just like the corridor, which made it all the more detracting to look at. He waited for the voices to start from behind the glass. Though he had never been in this room, he still knew the process, and so was a little at ease. He never let his face betray him when he felt most nervous. "State your name" a voice came, seemingly from the depths of the room itself. The voice was at once commanding, yet as well wavering. "Kent Miller" Kent said, as though it was a programmed response: emotionless and immediate."What is the subject that you will be presenting today?" the voice asked again. At this point, Kent lifted up the object in his left hand. It was a sword, roughly the length of Kent’s own arm. It was a small broadsword, but the center, extending from the hilt to almost the tip of the blade, was hollowed out. The blade itself a dull metallic grey, yet gleamed brilliantly with the lighting of the room. The hilt was ordained with a simple spiral design, and an I-CON insignia placed on its bottom.    Kent could almost hear the snickering in the observation room. In this age, armed combat rarely extended beyond high-tech firearms. "So you've called us here for an antiques gallery?" one of the voices questioned from the room. Knowing that this would be the reaction he would get, he ignored the question and moved on with his presentation. Raising his arm, he started:
   "What I have noticed of most weaponry created of late is that they don't offer much diversity... I feel that as a way to move foreword, we must look back to the weapons of yesteryear. As a reliable tool in the face of close-quarter combat, the sword is the handiest of tools. Archaic in this age, you may think, but consider the circumstances for its practicality. Standard weapons, such as the beam-rifle or PG, can only perform their initial function, and after doing so are of no use (as is the case with the PG). The BR can be reused, but only after a period of cool-down, and even then, maintenance requires that one perform various replacements or parts. The sword, or rather this sword, is..."
    "Please spare us the history lesson and present your can-opener, Mr. Miller"
   As soon as this remark was made, another wave of snickering came from the room. At this point, Kent called for a large metal slab be brought in. "I can tell you will only learn by viewing, so I'll skip the tell part of this show." With a slight flick of his hand, he tossed the sword into the air, showing its light weight. As it spun through the air, it continued to gleam blaringly from the light of the surrounding room, eventually becoming shrouded in a blinding light.
   As is came downward, the blade sailed clean through the slab as though it were made of paper, yet the slab had shown no indication of change as it went through. Finally, the blade hit the ground, and as Kent went to retrieve it, the slab had then begun to fall apart in opposing directions. "Light in weight, yet heavy in action: the Tritanium steel provides fighters with speed and durability, never slowing them down or leaving them in danger. It is also a useful tool for accessing areas by using force to cut through objects barring progress."
   After this statement, there was a brief period of silence before a voice uttered "Ok, so I’m moderately impressed by the hardware, but would you mind explaining what the purpose of that string in the middle of the blade is for?" Kent lifted the blade in one arm, holding the edge outward, and with a motion of his arm, the blades spun backwards so as to ark back on the hilt, away from his arm. At this time, the ribbon, which had been connected to the edge of one blade as they spun, had seemed to come to life as is searched for the edge of the other blade. The end result was a very jagged-looking bow, with the hilt of the sword being the handle, as well as the guide.
   "So now we've signed up for archery lessons as well?" Yet more snickering ensued. This was beginning to irritate Kent, though he would not allow it to show on his face, but rather in his actions.
   Before the snickering had time to subside, there was a large thudding noise on the screen opposite the observant view, though none of them could see what had caused it. The force of the impact was so much that it even knocked one observant off their feet. “What are you trying to pull, Mr. Miller?” the voice demanded, quivering. “Well, you wanted a demonstration. I am merely demonstrating.” Kent said this with a smile that hinted at triumph. “What you have just experienced is the new frontier in future combat; this form presents the ability to provide the fighter with a ranged attack that is not reliant on any source other than the very air we breathe; It uses a fairly standard Air-Canon system that has been modified just so to ramp up output capacity due to the condensed barrel size; essentially, the harder you pull back on this string, the greater the charge, and thereby the output will be for the cannon. This will provide a reliable companion piece to modern weaponry. Imagine for a moment that you are a soldier on the fronts of the Straum belt, and you and your squad are fighting off a wave of Earthlings: while in the middle of this battle, your riffle suddenly overheats, or possibly worse, malfunctions completely. Instead of being rendered defenseless, or having to resort to a pistol, you would have the ability to fight onward; and better yet, you could take the fight to them personally, if needed.”
   There was a pause in the room as the viewers took this information in. As he waited around for a conclusion on his presentation, Kent returned the bow back to its original form with another motioning of his arm. As the blade had completed reformation, the voice had come back to greet Kent with a verdict.
   “Alright, Mr. Miller; you have presented your...”
   “It’s called the EX-beta, For ‘Excalibur Cross’. We thought that it should be named after the most well-known blade of all time.”
   “Huh, Interesting. I though I had finished all of my history lessons years ago, yet here I am with another. In any case, we’ll let it run a trial course on the field, and if performance is as good as what we’ve seen here today, we will standardize it. Congrats, Mr. Miller; you’ve benefitted your people, and made us proud. We hope to see more innovation in your future endeavors…” To Kent, this all sounded a little rehearsed, and not in the least bit sincere. But he was through caring about that. He did what he came to do, and would be grateful to be able to leave the presentation area. As he left the room, the floor seemed to suddenly disappear from beneath him as he fell into a freefall through blankness. He could feel nothing but the rushing of the wind by him as he fell, but even more peculiarly, he began to hear a voice. It was a female’s voice, soft and comforting, and while completely unrecognizable to Kent, it seemed vaguely familiar. However, he couldn’t decipher a thing that was being said, as at that moment, his alarm began to ring next to him.
         Waking up with a jump, Kent was drenched in cold sweat, but still felt light, as if he had actually been in a free-fall. Looking across his room, he saw the blade wrapped in a cloth, labeled ‘Kent’s work; don’t touch, dammit!’ lying on top of one of his chairs. The message was written by a co-worker who thought it would be funny to see Kent rage at the person brave enough to mess with his creation against his will. Kent went through his usual morning routine: Get up out of his I-CON standard bed, bathe in his I-CON standard shower, get dressed in his I-CON standard uniform (though today he had to look particularly well-dressed as he had his presentation later on), order breakfast through his I-CON standard Food Dispensing Machine (FDM). The only product in his entire apartment that wasn’t a product of I-CON was the blade itself, and that would change if everything went as he had dreamed. 
          As he ate his breakfast, he watched a news report on his television about the SROS forced suffering numerous casualties in a recent battle with the Earth forces. This surprised Kent as this was the EF’s first major victory over SROS in a number of months. Kent spent the rest of his breakfast trying to somehow find a way to use this event to his advantage during his presentation. After his meal, Kent finished preparing himself to leave, finally grabbing the EX-Beta before leaving. He walked up to his I-CON standard T.R.A.P and stated his destination point along with his I-CON employee PIN (a prevention measure taken so that only I-CON employees would be granted access into the facility.) The T.R.A.P in front of Kent, a large, opaque circular plate that rested parallel to the wall, started up with a whir. Light spiraled quickly inward from the outer edge of the ring in a series of segmented beams until they all the met at the center, at which point the ring was no longer opaque, but showed instead the lobby of I-CON. Kent looked onward and saw the receptionist’s desk. The woman sitting behind it looked like she had just woken up from a coma, and about ready to relapse at any moment. As she noticed him standing there, she mustered the strength to lift her right arm and produce to Kent her middle finger. Kent tried to thing of an appropriate response, but couldn’t think of anything. Instead, acknowledging his defeat, he simply raised his hand to mimic the motion. Mornings, including those such as this weren’t suited for Kent. Kent began making his way through the portal, still brandishing his middle finger to the secretary. At that moment, a jolt, unnoticed to either Kent or the secretary, ran through the system, shorting it out. 
           At that moment, the image that Kent saw of the I-CON lobby faded slowly into white, and he started to wonder if his vision was beginning to falter. He stepped back, retracting his hand as he did, shortly before being shrouded completely in white and began to feel himself falling. As he fell, he thought to himself “That wench; she must have had one of the guys over at Transport Services sabotage my system so that this would happen when I showed up. Where the hell is this, anyway, limbo? She had better hope that I never find a way out of here…” He continued on with this thinking, not taking into account how long he had been falling. While the trip overall took approximately 10 minutes, Kent was so deep in though that it had felt like an eternity. He began to become genuinely worried when he noticed that the light was beginning to open up, and that, much to his surprise and brief horror, he was falling towards the opening. Not knowing what else to do, he braced his arms against his head, expecting to fly headfirst into the ground.
           Instead, when he fell through the opening of the whiteness, he found himself flung into something solid, but not particularly sturdy. He then found himself lying on the ground with the object beneath him with the EX-B wedged between him and the object. Taking a brief moment to get himself together, he looked up and found himself surrounded by a group of surly looking individuals, and that the ‘object’ he had been launched into was, in fact, a member of this group. He also noticed that blood was pouring out of person from a spot where the EX-B had penetrated through the cloth and into him. Looking around him, and then down at his hands, Kent felt destitute, terrified, and to some extent furious. Many different thoughts raced across his mind, but as he looked down at his blood-drenched hands as he sat sullen on the floor, only one of those thoughts able to be properly processed as speech: “Shit…”


Edit: I've re-posted the complete version. this time, I've edited it to have indentations, and the portion about the secretary is drawn out to add more elaboration.
 Enjoy, you guys ^__^

[DaydreamerJen]

Hey just finished reading your story since I didn't have time to get to it yesterday.  I have to agree with some of the comments on its an ok story but the beginning paragraph or two was a bit dry for me.  I can give you a few suggestions that may help just let me know so I can throw them together xD

Jennifer

[demon-fayt]

Ok, so I've been slacking on this for FAR too long. Here is what I've jotted down so far for Chapter 2:

As Kent lay in the middle of the crowd, each second being covered in more and more blood, he was approached by a large, cloaked figure. The figure was surprisingly swift, and in a matter of seconds held Kent in the air by his collar, as well as seizing the EX-B in his right hand. With his new elevated placement, Kent could see the entirety of the room. It was about the size of a small meeting room, half occupied with people. There was a doorway to the left of where Kent had fallen out which lead to what appeared to be a small conferencing room. Of what he could see, it was a clutter of strewn papers and chairs, and the room itself did not appear to be too big. There was another, larger doorway at the back of the room which seemed to be flooding with more people, no doubt due to the current situation. He also noted that neither of the 2 doorways appeared to actually have a door to them, as well as a group at the front of the crowd that appeared to be made up entirely of technicians, which indicated he had come through one of the earlier model T.R.A.P.’s. 

“What are you waiting for? We have to kill him! He murdered one of our people!” a voice rang out from within the crowd. “Yeah, and he’s a member of I-CON” cried another voice. Soon after, the whole room broke out in shouting, mostly declaring Kent a ‘murderer’ and each second coming up with more and more colorful ways to execute him.  Kent was beginning to fill with panic and frustration, and began kicking wildly at the cloaked figure. He soon found this to be highly ineffective, as the figure was built incredibly sturdy, with each kick feeling as if he were attacking a stone wall.  “Are we done playing footsies?” the figure remarked.

[demon-fayt]

And so it continues:

Chapter 2

   As Kent lay in the middle of the crowd, each second being covered in more and more blood, he was approached by a large, cloaked figure. The figure was surprisingly swift, and in a matter of seconds held Kent in the air by his collar, as well as seizing the EX-B in his right hand. With his new elevated placement, Kent could see the entirety of the room. It was about the size of a small meeting room, half occupied with people. There was a doorway to the left of where Kent had fallen out which lead to what appeared to be a small conferencing room. Of what he could see, it was a clutter of strewn papers and chairs, and the room itself did not appear to be too big. There was another, larger doorway at the back of the room which seemed to be flooding with more people, no doubt due to the current situation. He also noted that neither of the 2 doorways appeared to actually have a door to them, as well as a group at the front of the crowd that appeared to be made up entirely of technicians, which indicated he had come through one of the earlier model T.R.A.P.’s. 

     “What are you waiting for? We have to kill him! He murdered one of our people!” a voice rang out from within the crowd. “Yeah, and he’s a member of I-CON” cried another voice. Soon after, the whole room broke out in shouting, mostly declaring Kent a ‘murderer’ and each second coming up with more and more colorful ways to execute him.  Kent was beginning to fill with panic and frustration, and began kicking wildly at the cloaked figure. He soon found this to be highly ineffective, as the figure was built incredibly sturdy, each kick feeling as if he were attacking a stone wall.  “Are we done playing footsies?” the figure remarked after about a minute at which point Kent gave up his flailing. The figure had made a motion with his hand, and everyone in the room was instantaneously silent. “I’ll decide what we do with him. If anyone wishes to speak out against my decision, speak up now.” Kent was surprised at how much authority the figure held, but was soon called to attention: “I want to have a talk with you. I should hope that you do not decline my invitation.” “Well it will be a little hard to hold a proper conversation with your fist to my throat, wouldn’t you say?” Kent said, rasping as he did to further emphasize his point.

     At this point, the figure let Kent down, though still grasping onto his collar, and forged a path towards the conference space at the side of the room. As they passed, one of the crowd members had made an attempt to take hold of Kent’s arm. As this happened, the Cloaked Figure pulled Kent suddenly forward, releasing his collar for one moment, only to seize it again with the other. The figure spun around in place, and with his now free hand placed a crushing blow on the back of the assailant’s head, causing them to crumple instantly onto the floor. Kent took a look back for a moment, and saw the figure splayed out, with one arm brandishing a concealed blade. The figure looked back towards the crowd, which now seemed to shrink away in unison, with a few people gathering around the person on the floor to try and help them to their feet and away with the crowd.
   
    Kent had entered the small conference room with the Cloaked Figure, and instantly noticed that he could no longer hear any of the voices from the crowd outside the room. Having noticed Kent’s reaction, the Cloaked Figure said “This room has been fitted with a sound reflection barrier; we’ll be the only ones to know of what we speak inside this room. You may sit, if you like.” Kent tested one of the chairs, putting his hand on the back of one of the chairs near him. He had leaned only just slightly when the chair had crumpled into a small, clattered pile on the ground. “I think I’ll stand” he responded the Cloaked Figure laughed at this “That’s the usual response around here.” While saying this, the Figure pulled back the hood on the cloak to reveal a man’s face. It was surly and gruff, yet majestic and refined. He had an aura about him that eschewed leadership and strength, yet also beheld a high intellect. His hair black hair was flowed backwards, interspersed with flecks of white, and his full beard had suggested there had been some time since his last grooming.

    “I don’t generally like to jump right in, but with the current situation, there’s no other way.” He started. “I would appreciate complete honesty and cooperation when I question you. If I even detect the slightest bit of falsehood out there, you’ll be reunited with that loving mob outside that doorway.”  “Yes, they do quite seem to adore me” Kent said, feeling the sleeve of his right arm as he did so.  “If you don’t mind me asking first, where the hell am I exactly? This doesn’t seem like any of the other sections I’ve been to around the I-CON facility, and I wasn’t aware of any additional…” He was cut short when the man asked him “So what is this that you’ve brought with you, Mr. Kent?” he asked, holding up the EX-B with the tip of the blade pointing downward.  “How do you know my…” Kent started. It never failed that he would forget that his name was sewn onto the front pocket of his uniform.

     “You see,” the figure started “I wand to believe that you are innocent in all of this; that you’re just a misplaced rat wandering through this labyrinth. However, that’s not very likely as too many things line up with your appearance. For starters, we were expecting one of our own to be coming back through that T.R.A.P. Now, that might not seem a big deal, except that that particular one hasn’t been used in about 5 years. Or rather, I should say, it couldn’t be used. Not by normal means, at least. 

As always, please leave comments and feedback

[demon-fayt]

X__x I've not worked on this in months! >__< Nor have I got ANY feedback on chapter 2...at all! C'mon guys!