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12-8-2007


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#1 Osolis Mantis

Osolis Mantis

    One day we'll be nostalgic for disaster

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 03:08 PM

“One… two… three…”
The monotony of bench pressing provides an ample distraction from life, I find. Because you’re distracted by keeping count of your presses and the steadily mounting, dull ache in your arms, thoughts about the real world can’t penetrate your preoccupied thoughts and pester you.
“… fifteen… sixteen… seventeen…”
A smile creeps onto my face; I’m waxing poetic again. I do that a lot. At least, I think I do. I’m not the world’s smartest man, and I don’t pretend to be, but after twenty-one years in the world, you’d expect to learn something.
“…th-thirty… thirty-one… thirty… two…”
The presses are somewhat more difficult, now, and Gabe spots me closely. I’m glad he’s here; I’d really prefer not to drop one hundred and forty-five pounds on my throat. I grimace; I wasn’t paying attention and almost dropped this thing on my face, barely stopping it in time.
“Careful, Gavin,” he says, helping me lift it back onto the rack. Gabe’s from Italy; even though he’s been in New York for almost twenty years, he’s still got a bit of an Italian accent. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I reply, rolling off the bench and rubbing my triceps. They feel like rocks. “Thanks. Hey, after patrol, tonight, I was thinking about heading down to Leon’s and grabbing a slice. You wanna come?”
Leon’s is a quaint little pizzeria just down the road from the precinct; Gabe and I go there all the time.
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good,” Gabe replies, and grabs his towel from a nearby towel rack. I stand up and do the same. “I’m gonna jump in the shower, then I’ll meet you in our office, alright?”
“Yeah… I probably should shower, too,” I say. This is one of those moments that I’m very glad that the precinct has a gymnasium facility. Gabe and I typically get here around six in the morning, then work out until seven-thirty, so that we have time to get ready for when our shift starts, at eight.
Oh, yeah, I guess I haven’t really mentioned what Gabe and I do, for a living. We’re cops. New York’s finest. Gabe’s been on the force for three years more than I have, since 2002, and I’ve been on the force since 2005. We both joined right out of school; Gabe’s twenty-four, I’m twenty-one. We ended up partners, somehow, and we’ve been best friends since.
Gabe and I head off to the shower stalls, and I jump into a stall. I’m careful not to look at Gabe, and he does the same – the stalls are pretty open. After washing up, we both dry off and get into our uniforms. We head out of the gymnasium facility into the main wing of the precinct; it’s a pretty dramatic change. The floors in the gym are soft, fuzzy carpet and the walls are lined with mirrors, all the way around the room, while the main wing has polished hardwood floors and the walls are an odd tan colour. Not unpleasant, just… odd. I don’t think I’ve seen it anywhere else, ever. The gymnasium facility is on the second floor of the right wing of the building, directly opposite the office complex, so Gabe and I walk around the upstairs landing and head inside.
As we enter, I notice that Gabe has snapped to attention, and I do the same. I look around and see why; the Deputy Chief is talking to a few inspectors nearby. Gabe and I both snap salutes to him, and he does the same.
“At ease, gentlemen,” he says, and we relax and head towards our office.
Gabe and I have a joint office because of all of the new recruits; I don’t mind the joint office, much, but it was made for one person, so it’s always a bit cramped. Especially when either of us decides to bring in something new; it took us four hours to get our bookcase in there. We love our books.
We weave between cubicles for about a minute (which is rendered quite difficult by all of the new recruits carrying paperwork and such) before reaching our office. Gabe unlocks the door and goes inside, and I’m just about to follow him when my breath catches in my throat and my heart gives a jump.
Samantha Jones, a tall, muscular redhead, has just walked by and waved at me, and I suddenly feel immeasurably giddy. It’s not as if Sam and I don’t talk or anything; in fact, we were best friends in elementary school. When we hit junior high; this is when guys typically start to develop feelings for girls, by the way; I started to feel attracted to Sam. I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want to screw up our friendship, and I think it was a good idea because she and I kind of drifted apart; if I’d told her how I felt, I don’t think we would have stayed friends at all. We got together every once in a while, but, by the time we’d hit high school, the extent of our conversation was in class and when we passed each other in the halls. Luckily, though, we both had the same career ambition, even when we were kids: to join the NYPD. So, when we joined, we kind of reconnected. We’re not as close as we were in elementary school, but at least we get together every once in a while. I wave back and smile in a friendly way.
“Doing some office work, then?” I ask. “A report or something?”
“Yeah. Man, I hate paperwork. It’s way too much trouble,” she replies, and takes her hat off. “I hate these hats, too. Oh, well. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for this job.”
She smiles again, and so do I, then we say goodbye.
“Gavin, you ought to just buck up and tell her. You’ll regret it if you don’t,” Gabe says as I walk into the office, and again I wonder if he can read my mind; he always seems to know what I’m thinking. He’s sitting at his desk, not looking at me; instead, he’s staring at his computer screen, and I assume he’s looking over some files or reports or something.
“Yeah, I know, Gabe. I know,” I reply, and sit at my desk, which is across from his. To my left is the door and to my right are the windows and the bookcase. It’s a nice little office; Gabe and I have a few plants on top of the bookcase, which are cared for by the janitor. We don’t really have time for them.
I turn on my monitor, push some papers out of the way, slip on a pair of reading glasses and double click my inbox. Mostly spam, in there, just like every other day. I delete it all, wondering how it got by my filter, and open an email from my mom. Apparently, the family’s coming up for a reunion or something in about a week. This is cool. I haven’t seen any family for at least three months.
I wonder whether to ask Gabe if he wants to come; I decide it would be a better idea to ask him when we’re off-duty, at Leon’s. At the same time, I decide to ask Sam if she wants to come to Leon’s, too, next time I see her.
For about twenty minutes, Gabe and I sit there, not saying a word, running through things on the computer. It was like this every day. I never asked what he did and he never asked what I did, but I imagine it was much of the same; e-mail, news, reports… things like that. When I finish, I remove the reading glasses and I tap my fingers absently on my desk, waiting patiently for Gabe to finish. I glance at him; he’s stroking his small black moustache and has cracked a faint, sad smile at something on the screen, but I know better than to ask. I run my hand through my short, brown hair and check my watch; seven fifty eight. It’s almost patrol time and Gabe stands up from his computer.
“Sorry I took so long,” he says quietly, and turns off his monitor. “I just…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, and grab my keys off of my desk. “Come on, let’s go.”
We turn off the computers and leave the office, locking the door behind us, and head out of the office complex. I hang back a bit and look around for Sam, but I don’t see her anywhere, so I catch up with Gabe again and we go downstairs into the lobby. I always love coming into the lobby – it’s really quite a beautiful room, if you appreciate that kind of thing. The marble floors are polished so well that you can see your reflection in them and the walls are the same as upstairs; the odd tan colour, again. I think it goes well with the black marble floors, but I know that a lot of other people don’t. In the center of the floor is a large, silver NYPD symbol, embedded in the marble. The craftsmanship really is amazing; there’s not a line out of place on the symbol and it fits perfectly into the hole in the marble. I’d like to meet the guys that made this place, one day. I wonder how much it cost to be made… actually, come to think of it, I wonder how big of a budget we have, here. We’ve got a pretty nice Station.
“Hey, Gavin! Gabe!” someone says; Howard, our friend from the CSU; Crime Scene Unit; comes running up to me carrying a sheet of paper. “Listen, guys. I tested the bullet we found at the crime scene against one from Pansy Parker’s stash. The striations match up; we’ve got our killer.”
He hands me the paper and I take a good look; the striations certainly look identical, but I’m not good with that sort of thing. It’s why I’m an officer and not a Crime Scene Investigator.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Howard. Sure, it’s likely, but it’s still possible that her husband shot Mr. Brock, too,” I reply and Gabe nods. Howard’s a good guy and all, with good intentions, but he’s new and, therefore, falls victim to what I call the ‘Usual Suspect Syndrome’. He looks at the first few shreds of evidence, and then uses that as a compass to see where he thinks the case will go. If he was given free reign of the lab, I’d have to complain, but he’s usually held in check by Bailey Murdock, the CSI Day Shift Supervisor. She makes sure he looks at the whole picture, not just the parts he wants to see.
“Listen, Howard, we have to go on patrol, right now; we can’t go down there to get Mrs. Parker,” Gabe says. “You’re going to have to get someone else to go, right now. We’ll be back later, so fill us in, alright?”
“Alright. I’ll see you guys later,” Howard says, heading back towards the laboratory facility. “Don’t be late at Leon’s; I don’t want to look like an idiot again. I was alone at that table for half an hour, trying to convince that waitress that I really was going to order something! They almost asked me to leave, last time, so don’t be late!”
We laugh, leave the lobby and go into the parking garage, which is underground; there’s a door beside the main staircase, somewhat hidden by a large plant. Well, not really hidden… ‘obscured’ would be a better word. Gabe and I push by the plant, walk down the steel staircase and emerge into the massive cement parking lot. When I say massive, I mean massive; this place is huge. We have a six car maintenance garage, down here, and we’ve got room for at least sixty squad cars. Like I said before; I wonder how big our budget is?
Gabe has already headed off towards our parking spot; I kind of stop paying attention to the real world, sometimes, when I’m thinking about things, and I don’t really notice when people are talking to me. It usually sucks, but it’s kind of nice when your boss is talking about useless things in meetings. Hm… maybe I’d know what our budget was if I paid attention. Ah, well, life goes on.
I realize I’d better catch up with Gabe, so I start to jog lightly after him through the rows of cars. I stop at parking space number thirty-seven – Sam’s space – because, to my surprise, find that her squad car’s not there. She said that she had some paperwork to do… she and her partner, Molly McAllister, should still be here. Something’s wrong, but I don’t have time to think about it because Gabe drives up in the patrol car. He’s leaning out the window, smiling.
“What are you doing?” he asks, sounding mildly amused.
“They should be here. You heard her, right?”
Gabe’s brow furrows.
“You’re right. They should be here.”
I go around the passenger side of the car, get in and open up the fixed laptop. Gabe drives out of the complex, gaining speed as he reaches the lip of the hill and catching a little bit of air. He smiles, and I do too; all our lives, we’ve wanted to be in one of those stereotypical police car chases they show in the movies. Those aren’t real, by the way; unless an officer was an absolute idiot, he would never, ever take a jump or drive onto a dock or anything stupid like that during a car chase.
As Gabe drives along our route, I run the license plates of the cars we pass to see if any are stolen; none are, fortunately. Our route is actually pretty boring; not a lot happens. It sucks, too, because we can’t have any music playing in the car; we need to keep our ears open for any broadcasts or APBs (All Points Bulletins) or anything like that. If we missed one, we’d probably be temporarily suspended from the force – most likely without pay. I check my watch; it’s nine fifty seven. Patrol didn’t seem nearly that long; it feels like we’ve only been out here a few minutes.
The radio makes us both jump, and Sam’s voice comes through, clear as day. I wonder why we hadn’t heard it before, but my question is soon answered.
“All units, all units, this is squad car four-eight-zero. We are pinned down with heavy fire and our radio antenna’s been hit. Anyone who picks up this broadcast, please, come to 1750 Vine Street. We have multiple suspects inside and -” there’s a burst of gunfire over the radio – “Jesus Christ, that’s an AK! Get down, Molly, GET DOWN!”
Gabe and I share a significant look, and then he flicks on the siren and lights and tears off down the road. I grab the mike and say,
“Don’t worry, Sam, we’re coming! Attention all units, we have officers pinned down at 1750 Vine Street. Multiple suspects encountered and they are armed and dangerous; this is squad car one-one-four, en route!”
It is today that I realize how good of a driver Gabe really is; he swerves through traffic easily and powerslides around corners with ease… hm. I guess some things from the movies really do happen. Finally, we reach Vine Street and Gabe powerslides in… just in time to catch a stray bullet, right through the windshield. We both tear off our seatbelts, crouch behind the dashboard and yank out our pistols – GLOCK 22, standard issue. Gabe kicks his door open and so do I, but I wait for Gabe to pull up next to Sam and Molly before getting out. When he does, I slide out and put my back to my open door, using it as cover. I look to my left and see Sam in the same position as me, about ten feet away; unfortunately, though, that AK must have taken quite a few shots at her, because there are four bullets that cleared the door completely and the other side of the door is absolutely mangled and riddled with bullet holes.
“Sam!” I yell over the din of gunfire. “What’s the situation?”
“There are at least five guys in there, two armed with AKs and at least one of them has a high-powered rifle,” she replies, pointing at the through-and-throughs on her door.
“Got it,” I say, and repeat what she’s said to Gabe. He nods in understanding; I wouldn’t have been able to hear him even if he had spoken, because a second bullet tears through our windshield, shattering it and punching a large hole in the back seat.
The gunfire stops for a moment; they must be idiots, reloading all at the same time, like that; so I poke my head out from my cover and take the opportunity to aim carefully at one of the figures in the old, dilapidated house. I figure he’s the one with the high-powered rifle; he’s on the second floor and I can just barely see the silhouette of a rifle in his hand. I guess he could have an AK, but it doesn’t really matter; I squeeze off a single shot and get lucky. My bullet hits him in the shoulder and I hear a cry just as the gunfire starts up again. I feel the heat from a bullet near my ear just as I crouch again; that was way too close. I look over at Gabe, adrenaline pumping vigorously, and see that he’s taking quick potshots over his door every time he thinks it’s clear. I get an idea, just then, and lie down on the cement. Instead of following Gabe’s example, I poke my gun out under my door and fire off a few shots in relative safety. I’m pretty sure I got another guy, but I never saw him go down. I try my best not to shoot for vital areas, but I’m bound to slip up eventually. Still, I haven’t killed a person to this day; I must just be lucky, but I sure hope my luck holds out.
I throw a quick glace at Sam and Molly again and see that Molly has made her way forwards and found cover behind a civilian car, about twelve feet away from her patrol car. Molly’s always had a cool head under pressure, and now’s no exception; looking at her position from where I am, I can see that she’s moving towards the house, hopefully close enough to kick in the door. If she gets that close, she’ll probably toss a tear gas canister inside, to flush the guys out. She pokes out from behind her cover just as another gunman leans out from behind his cover. Molly takes the shot and puts him down with what I assume was a rubber bullet; at least, I hope it was.
Good God, the noise is deafening. I doubt you’ve ever been in a shootout, but it’s a lot louder than it seems like in the movies. Every few seconds, a round of gunfire pounds on my cover, making my teeth rattle; the gunshots all around me are so loud that I can barely hear myself think. Man, my ears are going to be ringing for at least a day, and that always sucks. Crap, I knew I should have brought some earplugs. The worst part, though, by far, is the knowledge that every time I stand up to take a shot, every time I move, I could die. I could get shot, I could get torn up by shrapnel… it’s an oddly exhilarating feeling. Sure, it’s scary knowing that I could die at any moment, but… I love having the adrenaline pump through me like this. It’s a great feeling.
I’m about to stand for another volley of gunfire when I see Sam poke over her door and get hit once; no, twice. I’m not sure. I don’t see where she gets hit, all I see is her falling to the ground in the corner of my eye. It’s all kind of a blur, from here on; I remember being about to run between the cars to Sam before Gabe grabs my collar. This part is oddly clear, to me.
“What are you doing?” Gabe asks, and I see that he’s leapt across the seats and armrests of the patrol car to stop me. “Are you crazy? You can’t just run out there, Gavin, you’ll be cut to ribbons.”
“I have to get to her, Gabe!” I yell, and turn to look at him. “I have to.”
He looks at me sternly for a few seconds, his face unreadable, then nods.
“Alright. I’ll get you over there. But you have to be patient, alright? You have to trust me.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I trust you, Gabe.”
He grips my shoulder, nods, and then climbs back off the seats out the driver’s side door. He crouches and heads back towards the trunk, and it’s then that I realize that the seats are littered with broken glass. He leaped onto shards of glass to save my stupid butt; I owe him one. There’s suddenly a loud blast that resonates in my ears even over the other gunshots – I look back and see Gabe, lying across the back of the car and pointing the SPAS-12 Riot Shotgun over the roof. There are little cuts littering his arms, presumably from the glass. He pumps the shotgun again and fires, but he’s not shooting shells or slugs; he’s launching tear gas and smoke canisters. One crashes through the house’s right window and a light fog starts pouring through the windows. Tear gas; perfect.
“GO, GAVIN!” he roars over the shotgun’s repeated blasts.
I look at him gratefully, and start to speak, but he snarls.
“JUST GO, DAMMIT! WE’LL TALK LATER!”
Hm… Gabe never swears. He must feel really strongly about this. I definitely owe him one. The gunfire subsides for just a moment, so I take a chance and run between the cars as fast as I can, keeping low and keeping my gun trained on the house. When I reach the other side, I drop to my knees beside Sam and activate the safety on my gun before holstering it. Her eyes are closed, so I check her pulse, my heart fluttering; oh, thank God. She’s not dead. I take a good, close look at her; I was right, she had been hit twice. Her bulletproof vest stopped the first bullet, but the other took her right in the hip. That could get nasty if we don’t get her to a hospital. She groans and clutches her stomach without opening her eyes, so I lift her vest up just slightly to check out the damage; oh, God, no. The first bullet was definitely slowed by her vest, but it still made its way into her abdomen. I don’t think it’s deep, but I could be wrong; I’m no expert. I could just be hoping.
“Oh… oh, my God…” Sam moans. “Oh, God, I’m gonna die…”
“No, you’re not… don’t worry, Sam. I’m sure that this will be over soon. Gabe shot a tear gas canister into their building and they’re sure to surrender. Come on, we’ve got to get you over to our car so we can radio for an ambulance. Alright?”
“A-alright,” she replies, and grits her teeth as she pulls her self up onto her knees. I grip her hand and pull her into my arms so that I’ll be able to carry her the distance between the cars.
“Are you ready?” I ask softly; well, as softly as I can, because the gunfire has started up again. She nods and I smile encouragingly. “Let’s go, then.”
I stand up a bit, getting ready to run; Sam groans in pain; then I run, my heart hammering in my chest. I feel shrapnel cutting into my legs from the bullets hitting the cement all around me, but I keep going because Sam’s life is in danger. I can’t let her die… she’s my responsibility, now. At least, until we get an ambulance down here. Once I reach the car, I yank open the back door and set Sam inside gently. Gabe ducks behind the car, nods at me and loads a rubber slug into the shotgun. Then, once I’m sure that Sam will be safe – or, at least, relatively so – with the passenger seat as cover, I take a quick look for Molly. At first I don’t see her and my heart gives a leap; is she dead? But, no, I see her even closer to the house than the last time I’d looked, hiding behind a mail truck. I wonder why it’s just been left here, in the cul de sac; maybe it’s been stolen? If so, that’s probably what these drug peddling idiots were driving. I make a mental note to ask Sam and Molly about it, then brush the glass off the front seats and climb in, lying on the seats, covered by the dashboard. I snatch the mike from the seat; I must have forgotten to put it back in its cradle; and make an officer down broadcast. I never thought I’d have to make one of those, but… then again, I never thought that Gabe, Sam, Molly and I would end up in a shootout with heavily armed criminals.
I hear another shotgun blast, a gunshot and then see Gabe’s shotgun skid towards me; at first I think he’s been killed, but then he comes into my view and crouches behind the driver’s side door.
“Is Sam alright?” he asks, drawing his secondary pistol, a .44 Smith and Wesson Model 629. “And where’s Molly?”
“Don’t worry; I just radioed in for an ambulance and; well, speak of the devil, there they are.” Sirens are steadily growing closer. At first I think that they’ve taken much too long, but then I realize that the adrenaline pumping through my system is making this insane shootout seem much longer than it has really been. I listen closely and notice that there’s only one set of gunshots. I guess there’s only one guy left.
“D’you see him?” I ask Gabe, and he shakes his head. The gunfire stops, and we both poke out from behind our cover; I see two things. Firstly, I see a guy in the upper left window and, secondly, I see Molly dart out from behind her cover and smash the house’s door down with a well placed kick.
This is where things get really blurry.
I stand and brace my weapon, preparing to take down the last guy; I guess he panics, because he fires off a volley of rounds with his AK. The criminal fires up until I see Molly knock open the door. When I see her, I lower my weapon and start to duck…but there’s a dull thud and a flash of pain in my abdomen, then in my left shoulder. Even as I’m falling, I can still hear the criminal firing; whether at us or at Molly, I’m not sure. I go down, hitting my head on the rear passenger’s side door, and I hear Gabe calling out angrily… then everything goes black.

The shootout lasted about thirteen minutes. I know this because my watch broke when I hit the ground and it took us about two minutes to get to Vine Street. It still seems like the shootout went on forever even though I know how long it lasted.
Amazingly enough, there were no fatalities. The criminals were all hit in non-vital areas and, though Sam and I were both hit, we’re both fine. In fact, I’m being released from the hospital in about ten minutes. They yanked the bullets out, and, unfortunately, I have to use a crutch for a few weeks and I have to keep my arm in a sling so as to not aggravate it, but I don’t much mind. Maybe by the time I can walk normally again, I’ll be finished my report. I asked to keep the bullets they pulled out; once they’ve gone through ballistics, I’ll get them in the mail. I hope that neither Howard nor Bailey gets this shootout on their table; Bailey will be weirded out and Howard will freak out.
There’s a knock at the door and Gabe comes in, smiling. Apparently, he didn’t leave the hospital until we woke up, and, even then, he just went to have a shower and shave. He’s wearing a t-shirt and I can see that his arms are heavily bandaged. That glass must have gone in deeper than I first thought.
“It turns out that that whole gunfight was all about drugs. Tch… not much of a surprise, if you ask me. Drugs run this world, now.”
I smile.
“Yeah, but what are you gonna do? We’ve just got to do our best and live life to the fullest, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Gabe replies, and smiles back.
“You’re waxing poetic again,” says Sam from the bed to my left. They got the bullets out of her stomach and hip fine, and she’s healing fine; in fact, she’ll probably get out of here in a week or so. I grin.
We’ve been in the hospital for eight hours, and both Sam and I were sedated with painkillers; Gabe was awake, and so was Molly. I feel bad for Howard; we kind of left him alone, again. Still, he’s with Bailey, so that’s alright.
“Did you give Howard a call?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Gabe replies. “He said he was just going to have a bite to eat with Bailey and then head up here.”
“Where’s Molly?” Sam asks. It’s a good question; even though we’ve only been awake for about twenty minutes, we haven’t seen Molly, yet.
“She’s down in the cafeteria, getting something to eat. I gave a quick call just after you both woke up; you might not have noticed, you were both pretty groggy from the painkillers; anyways, she’s going to bring you guys some dinner.”
“Dinner?” Sam asks. “What time is it?”
“Just after six,” Gabe replies. I already knew that; I’ve always had an amazing internal clock.
There’s a knock on the door and Molly comes in, carrying a huge tray of food, and I suddenly realize how hungry I really am. Molly sets the tray down on a large table set between Sam and I, and I reach for something from it; pain shoots through my arms and chest. I grimace and look down at myself; I’m covered in burns and, looking at Gabe, Sam and Molly, I notice that they are, too.
“Where did these come from?” I ask. I lean towards the tray so that my burns don’t hurt as much and grab a tub of ichiban noodles. Sam doesn’t have anything; she’s not allowed. Because she took a gut shot, they don’t want her to do anything that might upset her stomach; it might injure her further.
“Your car got lit on fire… we think it was a bullet to the gas tank that started it. Gabe and I had to get you and Sam out of the fire,” Molly replies, and shrugs. “They’re not so bad. I’ll be fine.”
“I guess we owe you guys one, then?” Sam asks, and I nod in agreement.
“No, don’t worry about it. Unless…” Molly says, and Gabe smiles. They must have already discussed this. “I guess we could call it even if you two picked up the check the next few times we go to Leon’s.”
Sam and I both laugh.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-<({[RAGE.wit]})>-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~<({[If there's one thing I know in this world, it's that we are Beggars all]})>~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
{Zapman: Transferred - UNDER REVISION}-~-~-~-~{Gavin Nequam and the Hall of Prophecy - UNDER REVISION}
{Vagabond - IN PROGRESS}-~-~-~-~{Kingdom Hearts: In The Dark - ON INDEFINATE HIATUS}
{12-8-2007 - COMPLETE}-~-~-~-~-{Legend of the Five: Rise of the Small - IN PROGRESS}


#2 Mercutio

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 03:14 PM

YUSS! Every time I read this I get shivers down my spine. It's so cool! biggrin.gif

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#3 Kal Hotshot Vares

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 03:45 PM

That was really well written (er, so far, at least I hope) although the begining seemed just a tad homoerotic tongue.gif Just kidding, haha. But yeah, this is pretty cool. I'll be eagerly awating the next installement.
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#4 D-man

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Posted 25 May 2008 - 06:45 AM

Real talent you have here, I can't make interesting dialouge to save my soul.

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#5 Archangel

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Posted 25 May 2008 - 12:18 PM

I remember the first time you posted this! I really enjoyed it, I like how it's all written in present tense, it really gives it a good feel of what's going on and how quickly things are happening. It also paints a picture in my mind very easily, which is another good things as well.

Do you have any plans of continuing this or is it just a short story?

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#6 Osolis Mantis

Osolis Mantis

    One day we'll be nostalgic for disaster

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Posted 25 May 2008 - 01:50 PM

QUOTE (Mercutio @ May 19 2008, 10:19 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>
YUSS! Every time I read this I get shivers down my spine. It's so cool! biggrin.gif


Heh, thanks.

QUOTE (Kal Hotshot Vares @ May 19 2008, 10:50 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>
That was really well written (er, so far, at least I hope) although the begining seemed just a tad homoerotic tongue.gif Just kidding, haha. But yeah, this is pretty cool. I'll be eagerly awating the next installement.


Very nice. tongue.gif

QUOTE (D-Man @ May 25 2008, 01:50 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>
Real talent you have here, I can't make interesting dialouge to save my soul.


Thanks. I find it helps to write out your dialogue, then read it out loud to fine tune it - it makes it seem more fluid and natural.

QUOTE (Archangel @ May 25 2008, 07:23 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>
I remember the first time you posted this! I really enjoyed it, I like how it's all written in present tense, it really gives it a good feel of what's going on and how quickly things are happening. It also paints a picture in my mind very easily, which is another good things as well.

Do you have any plans of continuing this or is it just a short story?


Thanks, glad you liked it. Yeah, I'm working on a continuation right now; I'm trying to show more of the characters than the police work, this time around.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-<({[RAGE.wit]})>-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~<({[If there's one thing I know in this world, it's that we are Beggars all]})>~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
{Zapman: Transferred - UNDER REVISION}-~-~-~-~{Gavin Nequam and the Hall of Prophecy - UNDER REVISION}
{Vagabond - IN PROGRESS}-~-~-~-~{Kingdom Hearts: In The Dark - ON INDEFINATE HIATUS}
{12-8-2007 - COMPLETE}-~-~-~-~-{Legend of the Five: Rise of the Small - IN PROGRESS}


#7 Halcyon

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Posted 25 May 2008 - 04:15 PM

Heh, before the search was down on the original SSLF, I found this and thought it was really good. I congratulate you, Osolis Mantis, for writing an interesting and excigting story, without letting reason take a back seat. Good job.

#8 Osolis Mantis

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    One day we'll be nostalgic for disaster

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Posted 26 January 2011 - 01:50 AM

Keep your ears to the ground.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-<({[RAGE.wit]})>-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~<({[If there's one thing I know in this world, it's that we are Beggars all]})>~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
{Zapman: Transferred - UNDER REVISION}-~-~-~-~{Gavin Nequam and the Hall of Prophecy - UNDER REVISION}
{Vagabond - IN PROGRESS}-~-~-~-~{Kingdom Hearts: In The Dark - ON INDEFINATE HIATUS}
{12-8-2007 - COMPLETE}-~-~-~-~-{Legend of the Five: Rise of the Small - IN PROGRESS}


#9 Phaedrus

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Posted 26 January 2011 - 02:04 AM

-puts ears to the ground- Is that a potential reboot and/or sequel I hear?! :o

#10 broons

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Posted 16 March 2011 - 11:51 PM

My ears have been on the ground for a long while. What's the word, Oso?

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