3klicks fanfiction

Author's note: Most of you are fan-fiction writers and the constant flow of fan-fiction comments has inspired the seed of a one-shot somewhere in my head.

I know that most of you have been through worse shit then I can imagine, but I don't want to accidentally spoil your mood, so if you're feeling real down or something come back another time. [edit: nothing nearly as dramatic, reading the discussion will clear that up.]


Rico sat on an old wooden chair in an abandoned cellar. She swung her legs back and forth, as she looked curiously around the room. The walls were made of irregular stones about the size of a grown man's head and the mortar, which may have been white once, was gray or black now. There was little furniture in the room: the chair Rico sat on, an old battered desk in the corner, and half a dozen wine racks. The source of light was a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling by its cable.

Rico sat patiently and played with a little wooden figurine she had found in the desk's drawer. Jean had told her to go down here and wait for him so that was what she did. It was a little cold and musty, but she enjoyed the experience. The old masonry and antique furniture was something completely new to her. She had examined everything in the room when she first came in: the chairs, the stones walls, the old desk, and the wine racks. She even found an old bottle of wine on one of the racks further into the cellar. The bottle now stood on the table opposite to her where she could look at the clear red liquid illuminated by the light, and the label that bore an elaborate crest of arms.

They have been preparing for this mission, almost three months now. She had learned what to do: how to get into the midst of her enemies; manipulate them to surround her. She had thought a lot in the previous weeks, but now she was just enjoying the passive experiencing of life: the dampness of the chamber, the feeling of the wooden chair on which she was sitting, and the strange appearance of the cellar.

She always liked the clearness in Jean. Her parents had been unpredictable: sometimes they were even nice to her; most of the time they would break out into sudden arguments with no warning. But, Jean had clear expectations. Rico always knew when she would get scolded and why, and she knew what she can do not to get scolded. Last year, Jean had told her she was useful several times and almost seemed happy with her progress, but by the time they started the training he became a bit strange and sometimes seemed angry with no reason; other times he seemed somewhat lax. Today he told her to go almost as if it wasn't an order, almost as if he was asking, almost as if he was pleading.

After about half an hour Rico heard footsteps on the stairs leading down to her hiding place. She cautiously jumped up and flattened herself against the wall on the right side of the end of the staircase, her hand on her pistol. It was Jean. When he stepped into the room his eyes scanned the chamber instantly, then his head snapped right to focus on Rico. He looked startled for a second, and then seemed to want to say something, but didn't. His face quickly returned to normal: stern and expressionless. He stood motionless for a couple of seconds looking at her. Rico thought he looked like he wanted her to say something. It was strange almost as if he was asking, but she didn't know what to say.

"Hello, Jean." Rico said.

"You're here… Good." Jean responded. He was carrying a long black bag, the type used for sports equipment, which he laid down on the floor, and started to rummage through its content. Rico stood by and looked curiously over his shoulder as Jean pulled out several flat rectangular packages, something resembling a vest, a roll of duck tape and bundle of wires.

"Do you remember the plan of the building?" He asked, preoccupied with his manipulations.

"Yes."

"What is the mission status and what are your objectives." He continues his questioning, as his eyes jumped from one place to another on the intricate web of multicolored wires. His voice seemed unusual, it was even more flat then normal, and it was not even strict. Just flat, hollow, and expressionless.

"Padania is holding a meeting. Umm, their most important leaders will be there… I will get in through the ventilation shaft, then go through the corridors to the conference room." Rico recited the information.

"Here. Take your coat off and put this on." He said handing her the vest.

"What is it." Rico asked.

"It’s mainly C4 and bags of buckshot." He answered as he taped several wires to her shirt.

"It won't explode even if you get hit, but the detonators may get damaged - that's why you have three, use them all at once when you get there. You'll have to run about 500 meters and force your way into the conference room. Don’t let anything stop you. " (…)

"Do you understand" Jean asked, his eyes coming up to meet
hers.


There was something strange about his face. Rico couldn't quite understand what it was, but she thought his eyes were somewhat glazed over…

"Yes, Jean."


--------------------- end


After several moments of consideration I decided to put the Foreword afterword.

When I get a bout of inspiration I write, I don't think, I just write.
I am a strange person, so what I write is also often strange. Please,
DO NOT treat anything you read too seriously. [edit: Yeah, refer to discussion]



Whoa... I'm in a strange mood today. Have you ever had one of those days when every time you look in the mirror you see something else? A strange clarity and silence. You look at the shadow on the wall, but it's not your shadow. It’s the shadow of your soul. Sometimes, for some strange reason, I stop fighting my very nature as hard as I can and I live its life. It's a fair trade: it gets to live my life, after all. The type of clarity of thought that a child has is amazing. My thinking is contorted. I can answer almost any abstract question, and do a good job convincing you that I'm right, even if I know I'm wrong (that's what the schooling system does with you), but I can't see the simplest answer to the most fundamental questions (the ones that count), and none of the things I can speak about are really real.


Anyway, you all know I just love Rico. The positive vibe I get from her has actually helped me out in real life (that doesn't happen with many anime/manga). Explaining why I feel sentiment for Jean is harder. Have you ever had this strange image of blowing your own brains out? (I don’t mean suicide: that's fucked up bullshit. I mean meeting yourself as a second person.) I've envisioned myself in a Nazi SS uniform once (it's not that I wanted to; it was a random thought). I hated it. I know where something like that comes from: it was because I wanted to be powerful more than anything; that is to be powerful enough to make all fucked up shit right. As I said, I hated it, so the next thing I envisioned was a revolver, a metallic
silver one. I blew his brains out.

I imagine Jean feels kind of like that. Self-hatred and guilt.

3klicks wrote:I imagine Jean feels
kind of like that. Self-hatred and guilt.

I guess I can see that... it's certainly an interesting premise, definitely not something I would've thought up, though... *stops himself*
.
since you put the disclaimer:

3klicks wrote:When I get a bout of inspiration I write, I
don't think, I just write. I am a strange person, so what I write is also often
strange. Please, DO NOT treat anything you read too seriously.

...on this (I think it should be at the beginning, though).. I won't apply my nitpicking brand of logic to the story.
.

3klicks wrote:I know that most of you have been through worse shit then I can imagine, but I don't want to accidentally wreck your mood, so if you're feeling real down or something come back another time.

I can't speak for everyone, but as for me: don't worry about it. People who have been through a lot of shit and managed to stay out of the psych ward tend to be pretty tough.
the best representation of that I've yet found in media is in this video, around 4:19-4:40 (I couldn't find the specific scene posted alone...)

3klicks wrote:I know that most of you have been through worse shit then I can imagine, but I don't want to accidentally wreck your mood, so if you're feeling real down or something come back another time.

I've been threw a lot, but it would not have been living it I haven't.
I just dont know some people can just go through life 'Just Existing!'

*blinks*
What?
*reads again*
Did you just...?
*reads again*
Why did he...? She's a million dollar killing machine... but then again there all all of the Padanian leaders in that room...
I think I'm going to go take a walk. A very long walk.
It was good though... in a way that left a bad taste in my mouth, but it was...
*gone to take a walk*

Keep up the good work! Hope to see more from you!

LoC978 wrote:Don't worry about it. People who have been through a lot of shit and managed to stay out of the psych ward tend to be pretty tough.

As I said I'm feeling kind of strange today. Writing this made me fucking cry. [edit: bit of dramatization there, but I sure got close] That's proubably because it's hard to write, in one way or another, about things that are personal. And because I'm a big softee. Now I'm playing the "How long will it take for me to regret posting this game"

Feh, whatever. I treat myself waaaaaay to seriously.

LoC wrote:*stops himself*

No need for that, if people want to squeeze something in they should before I decide that I should just delete the damn thing.

LoC wrote:*stops himself* (...) I won't apply my nitpicking brand of logic to the story.

Primarily I didn't want people to come to the conclusion that I'm a nut case, and some of the stuff in there is kind of nutty.

Criticise away. I said that I'll proubably regret posting this so I might as well get something out of it.

sasahara wrote:Did you just...?

Did I kill of my favorite character... I don't know, I didn't finish it.

3klicks wrote:Criticise away.

'kay...
looking back over it, the only argument I have with it is the same as the one sasahara put forward: no way in hell would they waste a multimillion euro cyber-tot as a suicide bomber. The only reason to use a suicide bomber is if you don't have any better delivery system. If they were gonna do something that overt, they might as well commission the Aeronautica Militare Italiana to put a missile into the window of the meeting (unless they're trying to make it look like some other terrorist organization targeting Padania, it which case they'd be better served by having Rico toss a political prisoner wearing that vest into the room, take cover and hit the detonator.
... and I thought of a plausible ending for it as it stands... it's your fic, though... I won't post it unless you want me to.

I figure that if they practiced for 3 months on this, its to prevent a suicide from happening, although she will be heavily damaged from it. I rather think that cyborgs run faster than humans (when Henriette went after the pot-head on the speeding scooter to get her camera back, which would place her at over 40mph).

Of course, in such a mission, Rico would not be alone; others will be outside in sniping posistions to deal with the resistance she may have in her escape.

LoC978 wrote:... and I thought of a plausible ending for it... it's your fic, though... I won't post it unless you want me to.

Well, I ended it like that on purpose. I'm not sure how noticable it was, but I tried to imply that Jean was pretty confliceted on this. Wiping out Padania is his life purpose, but it's not so easy even for him. I was thinking he will break, but I wanted to leave that up to teh reader.

LoC978 wrote:'kay...
looking back over it, the only argument I have with it is
the same as the one sasahara put forward: no way in hell would they
waste a multimillion euro cyber-tot as a suicide bomber. The only
reason to use a suicide bomber is if you don't have any better delivery
system. If they were gonna do something that overt, they might as well
commission the Aeronautica Militare Italiana to put a missile into the
window of the meeting (unless they're trying to make it look like some
other terrorist organization targeting Padania, it which case they'd be
better served by having Rico toss a political prisoner wearing that
vest into the room, take cover and hit the detonator.

Maybe I should have made it more apperent, but the meeting room didn't exactly have a window (it was underground). When I mentioned the ventilation shaft I meant as in going down to the underground part of a large building. If you could get in through a window a grenade would do.

The ventilation shaft doesn't exactly lead to the conference room either, there are 500m of passages to get there.

The reason you don't use missles is that you need something powerful to destroy the basement (say floor -2) or a large building (a 20 floor company building owned by Padania). That would take a bunker-buster at least (and even that doesnt go through 21 floors esily). Since the building is in the city that would make a hell of a ruckus and it would be impossible to disguise. The government is very deeply divided, even parts of teh military are on Padanias side, so you just can't afford to make too much noise. Padania (or some other organization, or even another country) could use it as propaganda, or even an excuse for a civil war. When you're at the top you want things to stay as calm as possible.

Reasons for using a cyborg in a suicide mission.
1) The same reason why the US government fires cruise missles at empty $5 tents in the desert.
2) It's Jeans dream, he may initially push for it or even act alone.

in that case, with it that far underground and sealed away from the general populace, they could use multiple hand grenades, nerve gas, or even just a tactical operation involving a sealed off exits and a lot of small arms fire. with 3 months to plan, there's no way they'd go with using Rico as a suicide bomber... and if Jean is acting on his own (doubtful, he's smarter than that), he wouldn't have had 3 months to plan.

Sealed off exits doesn't cut it. They have plenty of guards. It's a meeting of top Padanian leaders.

Christiano was: "A mid-level agent for the PRF, Cristiano often coordinates the PRF's
missions on the field. He once organized the mission to kill Filippo
Adani before he could give away information about the PRF."

These guys are the real thing and there are many of them. Now take people like Pinochio, his teacher, Franca and Franco and multiply that several times. When mafiozos meet, each one usually has one, two or more guards with him (it's usually decided before the meeting so things are equal). Yeah... I dare to venture the cyborgs would have a problem.

Even if the SWA adopts siedge tactics, this is definantly not going to go unnoticed, and as I mentioned before-hand they don't want a ruckus that would mobilize all the supporters of both sides to rush to one place and start a war.

The SWA has grenades and the Padanians have grenades. I don't really understand how this option would work.

To be fair this is where my pre-thinking ends.

The nerve gas is a good idea, which I haven't thought of. (The Russians used it fairly recently. They killed the terrorists and killed a whole bunch of their own civilians.) There are several reasons against it, but I admit they are not very strong.

1) Nerve gas is very seldom used, I wouldn't put it past teh agency, but this may cause problems. Not the least of which is that it may give the other side ideas. They may retaliate with say bacteriological warfare and then all shit breaks loose.
2) The Padanians may have gas masks somewhere. Either for that exact reason, or "in-stock" for other purposes (rioters for example often have them).
3) Filling a large compound takes time, is risky and kills a lot of people. Its not easy to use it selectively. You need means of more direct delivery and the conference room doesn't have direct ventilation.
4) If the load isn't delivered quickly enough it will be noticed and the padanians may escape.

I imagine the thinking was that a cyborg can take many bullets before it dies. It wan still run into the conference room even if it is full of lead.


That said, in all honesty I didn't plan as far as nerve gas or something more leborate then an eir strike or take over of the building. Mainly I focused on the emotion/content part of the story.

3klicks wrote:The SWA has grenades and the Padanians have grenades. I don't really understand how this option would work.

the element of surprise. the first one to toss a grenade in that situation wins. To be fair, most people don't realize just how big a blast a handgrenade makes. Hollywood dumbs it down to make it more dramatic, but an M67 frag grenade has a kill radius (meaning anyone in this radius will die unless they're both incredibly tough and incredibly lucky) of 30 meters (and has been known to kill past 200 meters, though at that range it's just bad luck). that would have to be a BIG room for the Padania leaders to come out unscathed.

3klicks wrote:1) Nerve gas is very seldom used, I wouldn't put it past teh agency, but this may cause problems. Not the least of which is that it may give the other side ideas. They may retaliate with say bacteriological warfare and then all shit breaks loose.

if they knew the location of the SWA compound, maybe. that's highly doubtful, though. Especially with all their leaders dead.

3klicks wrote:2) The Padanians may have gas masks somewhere. Either for that exact reason, or "in-stock" for other purposes (rioters for example often have them).

this would only make a difference if they get the masks on really fast. outside in open air, the time between the sound of a nerve gas grenade/canister/shell reaching your ears and you receiving a lethal dose of it is approximately nine seconds (assuming it's close enough for you to hear it at all). it takes less time in an enclosed space.

3lklicks wrote:3) Filling a large compound takes time, is risky and kills a lot of people. Its not easy to use it selectively.

true, but you don't have to fill the entire compound when all the targets are in one room. a gas grenade is sort of semi-selective. there would more than likely be quite a few dead bystanders, but hey... it was a terrorist attack anyway, right? certainly not something a government agency did...

3klicks wrote: You need means of more direct delivery and the conference room doesn't have direct ventilation.

I was thinking a grenade anyway.

3klicks wrote:That said, in all honesty I didn't plan as far as nerve gas or something more leborate then an eir strike or take over of the building. Mainly I focused on the emotion/content part of the story.

that was quite apparent, and was another reason I wasn't going to do this at first...

LoC978 wrote: the element of surprise

The main thing is that there is no direct access to the room. It's a Padanian compound, so if you want to get a grenade in there you have to actually enter the compound (full of low level padanian thugs), go down 2 floors and then cover several passages. By that time the people at the conference are long aware of whats going on (they are alerted by people outside or inside the compound). (the basement is proubably passed off as storage or something and is guarded). Then if it's a nerve gas grenade you better have gas masks of your own (which is perfectly dooable; you just either need time to put them on in the compound or start off with them on and limit your battle-effectiveness).

LoC978 wrote: if they knew the location of the SWA compound, maybe. that's highly doubtful, though. Especially with all their leaders dead.

I was thinking against the pryme minister and other politicians or just the general populance. The SWA would just blow the whole building up if they had their way.

LoC978 wrote:this would only make a difference if they get the masks on really
fast.

I agree with this, even people who practice putting gas masks on can't doo it very fast, and the gas-masks wouldn't exactly be on their laps. (but as I mentioned above the nerve gas grenade would have to be delivered into throwing distance first)

There are also padanians outside, I imagine it would be a bit like "The God-father" hit-men/thugs always on call outside. Initially intended for "fast response" in this case if something started happening they would call people.

The only thing I see no defence against is a bruttall, high pressure pumping in of the nerve gas into the ventilation of the two lower floors [that is teh gas first goes through the vent into the hall of floor -2, then travelles through the hall into teh conference room]. This would require sealing off of the area (this means only not letting new people in; there is no way to get all the civilians out of the are without alarming the Padanians), instantaneous killing of pre-identified padanians outside. A full force, all-fratello + plenty of backup charge into the building. Then covering all the exits and pumping the gass as quickly as possible.

The Politicians who order it would have to deal with the backlash so they wouldn't be too happy, but the Padanians would be dead.

Sorry for the messy argument, I have trouble putting it out in a clear fashion. In short:
- No direct access, have to force way full of guards who will alert Padanians (cell phones, interanl phones -> proubably could jam the first)
- Brutall, full scale gas attack I don't see a defence against, but it would be risky for the SWA's founders.


I was thinking that Rico would have to really fight, and adopt a reckless charge tactic, to cover those 500 m. If I had thought is all through I would proubably integrate LoC's ideas. Rico would have a nerve gas grenade + some normal ones. The bomb would be a last resort, but even that would likely be a suicide operation since she would run through the hall with guards shooting at her force the door and then throw the grenade in which means she would be full of holes, would have trouble coming back since she would have to survive the wave of guards coming in right behind her and get out of the nerve gas/ or normal grenades effective range, then live till reinforcements arrive. (But, then the story wouldn't be as dramatic.)

The other girls could be back up but go with Rico because their handlers would have serious issues with it.

Why can't I ever write anything short.

But, yeah. I'm drawing conclusions from the stuff I wrote in previous posts, but a lot of that was rationalizing after the fact. The stuff I actually thoght about is the stuff I said I thought about several posts before.

The main thing is that there is no direct access to the room. It's a Padanian compound, so if you want to get a grenade in there you have to actually enter the compound (full of low level padanian thugs), go down 2 floors and then cover several passages. By that time the people at the conference are long aware of whats going on (they are alerted by people outside or inside the compound). (the basement is proubably passed off as storage or something and is guarded). Then if it's a nerve gas grenade you better have gas masks of your own (which is perfectly dooable; you just either need time to put them on in the compound or start off with them on and limit your battle-effectiveness).

ah, I see. I was assuming that the wine cellar Rico was waiting in was inside the same building. poo on me for assuming...
So, the best option would be a classic 'clear the building' scenario with multiple teams and a multiple insertion points.

LoC978 wrote:poo on me for assuming...

Yeah, I do it all the time too.

The wine cellar was an off-to-the-side place to prepare the operation. They wouldn't be so casual about it otherwise. Now that I think about it, it would actually have to be in an old house so it would be fairly far away from the large Padanian building. So that's a bit of an inconsistency on my part.

There are a lot of things I should have clarified in the story.

The things I knew before hand were:
- The part about the cellar being somewhere else.
- The padanians being underground.
- No vent to Padanian's room

The rest I just made up as we went along.

I know double post again in the same thread. I have to pay a fine now...

Heres the look back moment:

- I don't regret posting it. (thanks for all the comments)
- Didn't really cry, but got real close at one point. This took me places I did not want to go. [bit of automatic dramatization to get my feelings across]
- I'm kind of surprised at my own hartlessness, now that I look back. (Mainly I wanted to show the tension in Jean's feelings, show the man sagging under the weight of anger guilt self-loathing and shame, and I wanted to try portraying Rico's personality. I'm still very surprised that I would strap explosives to my favorite character in my first GSG fanfic)
-And yeah, I maintain that Jean is no monster. (Even if I push him in that direction in the story) Considering that Jean and Jose have a motive which isn't right, but which is easily understandible, it makes you look at the others who joined up from their own free will, with (apperently) far more selfish and less justifying motives as the ones who are strange. (Hillshire may have joined to save Triela)
- Foreward's kidf of nutty, but what can I say. (don't take it the wrong way)
-The disclaimer was meant for the foreward, I didn't want anyone to get
the wrong idea when I was writing about "shooting myself in the head" (look at it simbolically)
- Looking back it was strange to assume that it would ruin someones
mood, but it did have a strong effect on me, so I just wrote it how I
felt it without thinking in the larger perspective. I was in a rather strange mood.

1) Good story
2) Gas is stupid. Sure your inside, but it'll leak outside. Besides chemical warfare screams government.
3) Did I mention it was a good short story?
4) Suicide bomber seems like a waste. Get everyone in heavy body armor, multiple teams, and nice big guns.
5) THERE IS NOTHING HERE CONTINUE ON WARD!
6) Jean isn't a monster. He's a person. He's got issues, more then most sure, but he's been through more then most.
7) I think you got that Jean is conflicted across
8) I understand the feeling crazy part. I know I've been there myself. Actually one time I felt bad about laughing about this. I thought about it, and decided that so long as I was honest with myself about it, it was okay to laugh.
9) ...
10) The story telling in your story is good. The story has it's flaws. I can be hard to fix a story that is flawed. However it is far hard to fix a story that has no tale to tell.
11) That was really kind of cryptic, but you got the point right? RIGHT?!
12) I think making the decision more like: kill Rico, or kill everyone else. You know like in how submarine movies it's we have to seal the compartment. OMG HAX! There are dudes in there! Seal the compartment, or we all die! Not quite as evil, not the same story. However it's shares a lot of elements, and would make a nifty story.
13) Final thoughts...

Wileama wrote:Gas is stupid. Sure your inside, but it'll leak outside. Besides chemical warfare screams government.

The Russians used it effectively in a cinema hostage situation. The terrorists were female Chechenians, all strapped with explosives. Plenty of civilian casulties in the thearter (those guys really don't care), but no problem outside and all the terrorists were killed without detonating their explosives. Gas is heavier then air so it goes down; that's an advantage in this case since the padanians are on floor -2.

But, now that I think about it LoC provided a pretty eye opening description of the frag-grenade, so I guess that if a cyborg could actually get to the conference room and force the door, one of those things would proubably wipe most of them out. Still a pretty suicidal mission.

Body armor and heavy mashine guns... I guess you could do that, but you can't expect to get out with no casulties. Those are proubably pinochio class body guards, and they have some heavy weapons of their own (shotguns, mashineguns, grenades, hell could proubably find an RPG in a Padania warehouse).

Wileama wrote:10) The story telling in your story is good. The story has it's flaws.
I can be hard to fix a story that is flawed. However it is far hard to
fix a story that has no tale to tell.
11) That was really kind of cryptic, but you got the point right? RIGHT?!

I read you loud and clear. Many of my stories suffer from plot deficiencys. It's a little less problematic in a short one-shot, because then just getting the atmosphere, characters, and feelings across is acceptable, but I have a lot of trouble putting a decent plot together in something longer. And some action wouldn't hurt either.

Wileama wrote:13) Final thoughts...

LoC978 wrote:... and I thought of a plausible ending for it as it stands...

LoC, from all the comotion I forgot to ask what your idea for an ending is. (I considered having Jean just crack in the last moment, but I figured that this ending would be more dramatic. I'm still curious as to what you had in mind, though.)

3klicks wrote:LoC, from all the comotion I forgot to ask what your idea for an ending is. (I considered having Jean just crack in the last moment, but I figured that this ending would be more dramatic. I'm still curious as to what you had in mind, though.)

nah, my ending is cheesy and cute:

3klicks wrote:

In the Cellar

Rico sat on an old wooden chair in an abandoned cellar. She swung her legs back and forth, as she looked curiously around the room. The walls were made of irregular stones about the size of a grown man's head and the mortar, which may have been white once, was gray or black now. There was little furniture in the room: the chair Rico sat on, an old battered desk in the corner, and half a dozen wine racks. The source of light was a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling by its cable.

Rico sat patiently and played with a little wooden figurine she had found in the desk's drawer. Jean had told her to go down here and wait for him so that was what she did. It was a little cold and musty, but she enjoyed the experience. The old masonry and antique furniture was something completely new to her. She had examined everything in the room when she first came in: the chairs, the stones walls, the old desk, and the wine racks. She even found an old bottle of wine on one of the racks further into the cellar. The bottle now stood on the table opposite to her where she could look at the clear red liquid illuminated by the light, and the label that bore an elaborate crest of arms.

They have been preparing for this mission, almost three months now. She had learned what to do: how to get into the midst of her enemies; manipulate them to surround her. She had thought a lot in the previous weeks, but now she was just enjoying the passive experiencing of life: the dampness of the chamber, the feeling of the wooden chair on which she was sitting, and the strange appearance of the cellar.

She always liked the clearness in Jean. Her parents had been unpredictable: sometimes they were even nice to her; most of the time they would break out into sudden arguments with no warning. But, Jean had clear expectations. Rico always knew when she would get scolded and why, and she knew what she can do not to get scolded. Last year, Jean had told her she was useful several times and almost seemed happy with her progress, but by the time they started the training he became a bit strange and sometimes seemed angry with no reason; other times he seemed somewhat lax. Today he told her to go almost as if it wasn't an order, almost as if he was asking, almost as if he was pleading.

After about half an hour Rico heard footsteps on the stairs leading down to her hiding place. She cautiously jumped up and flattened herself against the wall on the right side of the end of the staircase, her hand on her pistol. It was Jean. When he stepped into the room his eyes scanned the chamber instantly, then his head snapped right to focus on Rico. He looked startled for a second, and then seemed to want to say something, but didn't. His face quickly returned to normal: stern and expressionless. He stood motionless for a couple of seconds looking at her. Rico thought he looked like he wanted her to say something. It was strange almost as if he was asking, but she didn't know what to say.

"Hello, Jean." Rico said.

"You're here… Good." Jean responded. He was carrying a long black bag, the type used for sports equipment, which he laid down on the floor, and started to rummage through its content. Rico stood by and looked curiously over his shoulder as Jean pulled out several flat rectangular packages, something resembling a vest, a roll of duck tape and bundle of wires.

"Do you remember the plan of the building?" He asked, preoccupied with his manipulations.

"Yes."

"What is the mission status and what are your objectives." He continues his questioning, as his eyes jumped from one place to another on the intricate web of multicolored wires. His voice seemed unusual, it was even more flat then usual, and it was not even strict. Just flat, hollow, and expressionless.

"Padania is holding a meeting. Umm, their most important leaders will be there… I will get in through the ventilation shaft, then go through the corridors to the conference room." Rico recited the information.

"Here. Take your coat off and put this on." He said handing her the vest.

"What is it." Rico asked.

"It’s mainly C4 and bags of buckshot." He answered as he taped several wires to her shirt.

"It won't explode even if you get hit, but the detonators may get damaged - that's why you have three, use them all at once when you get there. You'll have to run about 500 meters and force your way into the conference room. Don’t let anything stop you. " (…)

"Do you understand" Jean asked, his eyes coming up to meet
hers.

There was something strange about his face. Rico couldn't quite understand what it was, but she thought his eyes were somewhat glazed over…

"Yes, Jean."

So saying, Rico strapped on the explosive vest, and put her coat back on. Jean wordlessly led the way up the stairs, and into the street.

Looking somewhat bulky in her oversized, stuffed coat, Rico walked into the street. Turning to her left, she ran for a large building further down the block. She charged through the door of the place, letting her coat fall off of her at the entrance.

She rushed down the hallways, surprised that she wasn't being shot from every angle. Once at the door, she threw it open and dived into the dark room. Shadowy figures converged on her, some of them shouting incoherently.

Judging them all to be within range, Rico hit all of the detonator switches simultaneously. There was an explosion of light and sound... and... confetti and silly string launched out from the vest while it played a jolly, familiar tune. The shadowy figures began singing along with it:
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Rico!
Happy Birthday to you."

The lights flipped on, and the shadowy figures were reavealed to be Giuseppe, Marco, Hillshire, Alphonso and Nihad. One more she hadn't noticed was Henrietta, who was standing directly in front of her, covered by Giuseppe's silhouette. Henrietta rushed in and gave Rico a huge hug.

...and they all ate cake n'stuff.



Epilogue:
"...but I mean, 3 months?!"
"yeah... but it was good training..."
"good training?! you taught her how to be a suicide bomber!"
"well, yeah... but..."
"we thought it was just a surprise party, then she rushes in with a 'bomb' strapped to her!"
"...you should've seen the look on your faces..."
"you're one twisted son of a bitch, Jean."
"now now, brother... we're both sons of the same people..."

HA! That's priceless. And it would work really well from the perspective of the reader too; the tone of the story would change so suddenly they would never know what hit them.

Never would have thought of that.

From a dramatic and emotional stand point, I love this story line. If it were thoroughly developed, the interaction between Jean and Rico could be truly heart breaking.

But I just can’t get over this one thing:

LoC978 wrote:'kay...looking back over it, the only argument I have with it is the same as the one sasahara put forward: no way in hell would they waste a multimillion euro cyber-tot as a suicide bomber.

No matter how good a story teller you are, that's going to real hard to get around. But I definitely give you an A for effort.

Danjo3 wrote:But I just can’t get over this one thing:
<blockquote>

LoC978 wrote:'kay...looking
back over it, the only argument I have with it is the same as the one
sasahara put forward: no way in hell would they waste a multimillion
euro cyber-tot as a suicide bomber.

No matter how good a story teller you are, that's going to real hard to get around.

I don't want to go in for overkill (there is a lot of discussion above), in short I figured the Padanian leaders would be about the same class of target for the Italian gov. as bin Laden is for the US gov. I'm not sure how much the US would be willing to invest if they got fairly accurate information about his wareabouts, but it would be big.

But, yeah, I was going for the drama, didn't eally consider realism too much.

Danjo3 wrote: From a dramatic and emotional stand point, I love this story line. If it were thoroughly developed, the interaction between Jean and Rico could be truly heart
breaking.

But I definitely give you an A for effort.

Thanks. Now that I look at it it's a lot shorter then I thought. LoC's version of the ending did a good job as comic relief and got me into a completely different mindset. You have to be in a particular mood to write something like this well, so that's proubably not going to happen soon. But, when inspiration strikes, I plan on writing more (either work on this one, or another idea thats been bouncing around in my head).

... dang, ever since I pasted this story from word, the formating is all scewed up in my posts.


p.s. - I used the movie "Paradise Now" as reference.
"Munich" is another movie worth watching. The two go well together, showing two sides of a story.

3klicks wrote:3klicks post

Heavier then air, but that's smart like. However if your pumping it in from a corridor 500m away you may end up putting enough vapor in that it finds a way out. Also the Russians killed several civilians in that theater incident.

Anyway frag grenades are cool. Their also good at thinning out the enemy in front of you. However one thing I've been thinking about is that why do they stay in the room. When they first hear gunshots why don't they start moving towards an exit? Are they that confident in their security? Anyway it's cool if it's still a suicidal mission, as thats bound to happen. The key is that they are at least holding out hope that their investment survives.

I got the sense that Pinochio was almost without equal. It felt like there where only a hand full of people that approached his skill level. I'm sure their will be some of those level there, just a small number of them. So small I imagine they could be overwhelmed by the numbers being thrown against them. By no means will it be a walk in the park, but overall you stand the best chance of success. Besides it is very hard to kill a cyborg. Someone like Ferror is very cheap in comparison.

LoC978 wrote:...and they all ate cake n'stuff.

The Cake is a Lie...

**Edit**
Here is another thought. You know where they are. Why not just watch the exits. When they try to leave gun shots open up, and maybe their car explodes when someone turns the key. Too crowded in your city center?

Wileama wrote:When they first hear gunshots why don't they start moving towards an exit? Are they that confident in their security?

I was also operating under the assumption that, with 3 months of planning, the SWA would know and have covered every possible exit from the Padania 'underground lair', including ventilation shafts, possible tunnels, and sewer outlets.
**edit** here's another thought: how in the hell could they have known of this meeting 3 whole months in advance? I doubt Padania would even plan one that far ahead if it involved all of their leaders.

Wileama wrote:I've been thinking about is that why do they stay in the room. When
they first hear gunshots why don't they start moving towards an exit?

I haven't thought that far ahead (exact plan of the building). If it was a full scale assult, they would do their best to get out. If it was just Rico she would cover those 500 meters really quickly using "reckless charge" tactics. If there is only one way to the conference room, then they would proubably try to fortify their position. If there is another exit they will do their best to get out, but as someone mentioned the cyborgs have some serious speed so Rico would be able to catch up with them. If she was using regular tactics the body guards could proubably buy enough time for the big meat-balls (heh, "GoodFellas" reference) to escape, but if she just charges them they'd proubably end up getting blown to hell.

Wileama wrote:I got the sense that Pinochio was almost without equal.

Yeah, I'm not saying they would have an army of Pinochios, just enough to equal the SWA's cyborgs. As for the rest both sides have plenty of mercanaries.

Wileama wrote:Here is another thought. You know where they are. Why not just watch
the exits. When they try to leave gun shots open up, and maybe their
car explodes when someone turns the key. Too crowded in your city?

This is a good one. Getting to the guys cars is impossible without notice since (like in the "Godfather") there are Padanians outside. The cars would proubably be in a private garage. The sudden sniping + heavy fire is plausible. There may be several problems:
1) You may not get them, all and they will run back into the building.
2) They may leave individually. They proubably won't all go out at once in a big party.
3) Thay would be seriously "in the street, hundreds of people watching" intense. The SWA tries to be as discrete as possible. But I guess they can always blame it on gang warefare or something. but refer #2

... Who knows what's going through the head of the SWA leadership, who knows what the politicians are thinking. I will meintain that the Rico as suicide bomber solution can be plausible from their point of view under the right conditions.

But, in general, I'm beggining to feel increasingly cheap for going this far with the rationalizing. I think I will make this the last bit.

[edit]:

LoC978 wrote:**edit** here's another thought: how in the hell could they have known
of this meeting 3 whole months in advance? I doubt Padania would even
plan one that far ahead if it involved all of their leaders.

That's completely true. I have been thinking for a while now that it should be a lot more like several weeks. On hindsite I wanted to make sure it was clear that Rico knew what she was going to do.

[Information can come in bouts: first there may be a meeting, then there will be a meeting, then the meeting was reschedualled, then the meeting place has been selected, and so on. It takes a while to negotiate a meeting like this. But, 3 months is still too much.]

[edit2] I didn't even notice that I passed the 100 post mark. Time sure flies.

On the "Idea and Concept Generation" thread, a very long time ago, I said I'd write the whole Henrietta and the Demon affair. I really was, but it took a really long time to get down on paper. I haven't really done any checking on it and it's only the first half, for now, but I have a final exam tomorrow (haven't read a single page of the material, so I'll have to rely on my wits and ability to make well constructed bullshit) and need rest now.

[Done. Second half will be up shortly.]



Henrietta walked slowly along the empty corridor, her footsteps clicking solemnly on the cold marble floor. She stared at her half visible reflection in the shiny surface, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes. She had waited for the longest time in the cold, but Jose never showed up on the lonely rooftop. Henrietta had been looking foreword to this day all week long, and now the feeling of elated expectation gave way to one of gloomy dejection. Worse still, from her high perch, she saw him hastily leave the building with some woman, and drive away, forgetting completely about the promise he had made. She absentmindedly tightened her hands into fists and crumpled the star chart that Jose had given her the day before. As the first wave of feelings calmed down and retreated into the background, a new emotion was beginning to grow inside her heart: anger.
The whether outside was getting worse. Claes looked up from her painting to look out of the window at the gathering storm clouds.

"It's like the gate to hell."

"Huh" Triela responded looking up from her reading.

"Nothing." Claes said as she put a new canvas on her easel, and started sketching a solid black, half open gateway, among the clouds. The windows rattled gently in their frames as the first gusts of wind clashed with the walls of the Social Welfare Agency.

"It'll be a storm." Triela commented absentmindedly.

Elsewhere, Henrietta didn't want to return to the part of the building that contained the dormitories. If she ran into Triela the nosy blonde would start pestering her about the incident and Henrietta just wanted to be alone, so she allowed her legs to guide her as she drifted off with her thoughts. As she walked onward with no sense of direction, her mind traveled the bridge between sadness and anger, between jealousy and hatred.

Why is that woman so important. She thought. Jose made a promise. What has that woman done for him? I try my best for him every time… We're Fratello; we should always be together.

"Oh, how I hate that woman!" She exclaimed out loud. The first flash of lightning illuminated the night and a clap of thunder soon followed, grumbling like a vicious beast somewhere in the distance.

Henrietta's thoughts took a slightly different turn now; she wasn't quite certain if she was right to say something like that. But, I want Jose to myself… I deserve it, but what can I do. There's nothing I can do…

But there is. The little girl was surprised by her own thoughts and stumbled from the far reaches of phantasm back into her body. Now, that she stopped and looked around, she was surprised to find herself in a part of the complex she didn't recognize. She was standing on a small landing on the end of an inconspicuous staircase. In front of her was a rather old door. It was from a different kind of wood then the other doors the girl had seen in the agency, and the handle was an old cast iron one.

Having recovered from the initial shock, Henrietta realized that this is what she has been looking for: a place where she can be alone; where no one will bother her.

Open the door. Yes, I think I'll open the door and go inside.

She reached up to the doorknob. The metal was cold and sent a shiver down her spine. As she pushed on the door it gave way with a horrible screech, not unlike a scream. The area inside looked like an attic storage room. It was cluttered with old furniture and storage boxes. The little girl would normally be rather apprehensive, but that day she was too busy brooding over her thoughts. She sat down on a crate and propped her elbow up on a small ornate circular table that stood beside the crate. When she glanced lazily at the dust covered surface, she noticed that her coat had gotten dirty with white powder, and upon further examination she noticed that she had smudged it off of a circular design with a star in the middle that sprawled across the small table.

Her brief interest ended quickly as a great clap of thunder brought the girl back to her contemplation of that horrible woman and Jose's ungratefulness. The girl's thoughts retraced her own steps imprinted firmly in the miserable snow. The first anger, and pain wearing off, she crossed further and further into the dark reaches of bitterness and into the shadow of hatred. Yet, she still found herself helpless: stuck at the same burning question. But, what can I do?

Wouldn't I give anything to have Jose love only me; to be able to spend all my time with him?

Of course I would, but there is no way.

But, there is a way… There is always a way.

Henrietta was slightly surprised now. She felt kind of awkward, although she wasn't sure why. A light dizziness overcame her body; she felt as if she was floating in a strange flowing substance, and then she saw that woman's face. It was a hideous mask of cynical laughter. The woman turned her head as she walked towards Jose's car, her hands around the man's waist, and smirked directly at her. The woman knew what she was doing and knew just how powerless the little girl was to stop her. Anger flushed through Henrietta's body like blast of heat from a furnace. She was keenly aware of the blood pulsing within every vein of her body; blood like molten lead.

I DESERVE to have Jose to myself. I have so little time, so very little precious time. Every second of it that is stolen from me is the most despicable crime; a crime that can be punished only with death.

I DO deserve it! I hate that woman!

"…Don't worry, not all people in this world are evil." She heard a soft voice speak somewhere in the room.

"Among the many malicious, treacherous people there are a few very special, pure hearted individuals… People like you, Henrietta. The truly deserving that suffer, exploited by everybody."

The voice was very quiet, not more then a whisper, yet it reverberated through the room. Henrietta could feel the tremor of it in the floor; she could feel it slither up her legs and burying itself in her chest where it resonated inside her. The girl, who still felt as if her head was spinning and had trouble with focusing her vision, tried to locate the source of the voice. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized just how true all that was.
Eventually, she managed to steady herself and noticed the figure of a tall man standing on the small table she thought she had been sitting next to. Henrietta found that she was now standing awkwardly in the middle of the attic-like room. She felt as if there was a weight pushing down on her and as if the floor was tilting this way and that like the deck of a ship on a stormy sea.

She slowly began to make out the man's appearance. He was dressed in a black three-piece suit and wore a black tie embroidered with gold. His face was somewhat pale, but he had the most appealing expression. His lips seemed constantly on the verge of a cordial smile, although they never seemed to move; even when the man was talking their movements were imperceptible. He wore a pitch-black top hat that covered his perfectly black hair and a pair of riding boots of the same color.

All this was very hard for the girl to gather because the man was largely hidden in the darkness and even though the flashes of lightening were becoming increasingly frequent none of them seemed to cast light onto the mysterious personage.

"Don't you think it's unfair? Should there not be a gratification for the good and a punishment for the wicked?" Henrietta's thoughts returned to the recent events. Unlike the attic room these images were sharp: perfectly clear. As the girl submerged into her memories she felt as if her head had been dunked in a bucket of cold water, or as if she had been hit by a sudden gust of arctic wind; a crude awakening to a despicable reality. She relived every second of this day, and sensed every little detail. She saw the woman's mocking smile with perfect clarity and Jose's eyes, seemingly entranced, and having forgotten completely about the little girl that would have gladly given her life for him.

The hatred and pain, that had been pushed aside by the strange occurrences, came back in full force now. She trembled and got shivers down her spine from the intensity of these raging emotions and in her despair she was suddenly reminded of the strange guests words: "There is a way…" The girl did her best to look squarely into the man's eyes and faltered for a second not sure how to address him.

"Yes, that is what I said; there is a way. I have always despaired at the unfairness of life. Being a sensitive man, every vile act perpetrated against those precious few good people was like a knife in my heart. So, I have made it the soul purpose of my life is to set things right. I came here especially for you tonight, since you are in such a dreadful situation, and are so very deserving of a better life…" The strangers words seemed to circle around the little girl and linger long after the sound was gone.

"…Unfortunately, I can do very little on my own." Here the man's expression changed for the first time to one of deep concern and profound sadness. "Ah, if I could only do more! I can do so little, and there is so much to be done!… But, don't let that get your spirits down. With your help we can change a lot. While I'm not sure if I could change anything alone, together, we can set things straight…Will you help me?"

The girl faltered, all that this man was saying rung so true, and his will was so purely good. Henrietta felt that someone finally understood her and had come to her aid.

"…You can make Jose forget about that woman?" She asked in a little voice.

"With your help, I can. Your dreams will come true, and you will finally get what you rightfully deserve." The stranger replied with the most cordial, yet flittering, smile. His tone of voice had the most appealing note in it, yet it also carried a tremor and a barely noticeable hiss.

"and you can make Jose remember and think of me…always?" She continued, as a new sparkle was born in her eyes.

"With your assistance, naturally!"

"and I will spend the rest of my life with Jose, caring only for me!?" The Girl exclaimed in joyous excitement.

"Yes! We can make it all come true."

"Really!? Is it really true."

"Why of course, it's as true as you and me." The man continued to answer the little girls questions with good-natured patience. Henrietta fell silent now, her eyes wide with amazement. She could imagine it all. What a wonderful life it will be! She smiled broadly staring with amazement at her savior.

"What can I do? Can we start now?" She said, and assumed an expression of excited anticipation.

"Well, it is a simple legal matter that makes it so hard. All you have to do is sign a document and all those evil obstructing forces will have far less power, to stop us… But, you have to be serious about your intentions: you have to commit yourself."

"What do you mean?" The girl asked, a tensed worried look upon her face.

"You're uncertain. You have to know where the evil lies and who should be punished. You have to be absolutely certain of the way the world should be."

"I am. I'm sure." The girl responded a tone of pleading in her voice.

"You said that you hated that vile woman, but did you mean it? And, you have to be certain that you deserve Jose and no one else. You have been harmed by the world and now you will get compensation."

"I mean it! I really do. These bad things shouldn't be happening. It would all be good if it was just me and Jose. I hate that woman, and I want to spend all my time with Jose very much."

"Good! You let go of your delusions; now you can really see the world how it is… If you're ready we can change this twisted world." The voice seemed to dissolve, trail off, to permeate the air in the room. The whole area seemed to shift and dissolve. Suddenly, the windows imploded sending jets of glass into the room, but as the glass flew through the air it seemed to flow down and finally start falling back and reforming into the windows, like the column of bubbles that shoots down when an object is thrown into the water, but then, inevitably, returns back to the surface.

Henrietta could see the roof fade away as if it was a cloud of vapor, and through this opening she could see a dark vortex of clouds, fire, and lightening. She fell mesmerized, her eyes fixed on the endless tunnel; string into infinite distance. The wild forces around her seemed muted and cased to disturb her as the swirling black clouds occupied her mind completely.
A soundless thundering of hooves was soon heard upon the boundless track of cloud. In the distance like an abysmal specter a figure of a horseman galloped insanely towards the open gap in the ceiling. This was a messenger from terrible and obscure reaches of the universe.

The rider crazed like a horse - the horse possessed like a human. A rusty curved blade dangled from the man's waist and a bitch black dispatch bag hung on a strap across his chest. The rider twisted together out of rags - the steed a ball of fur held together by mood and foam. They bounded insanely onward through the stars.

In a blink of the girls petrified eyes, the hose and rider fell into the room. A ferocious gust of wind scattered the furniture, and Henrietta could barely see as the figure ripped a scroll of parchment and handed it to the black clad man that had been her visitor. The horses face was almost like that of a human, and the rider's eyes flashed with the insanity of a wild stallion.

As soon as the parchment left the messengers hand he burst and fell apart into a heap of rags, and the horse into a cloud of fur carried off by the wind. But, everything calmed down almost instantaneously and in a flash Henrietta wasn't sure if it had not been an illusion. She rubbed her eyes and stared at the ceiling where the hole should have been. The horseman and the steed were nowhere to be seen, the windows were whole, and the room was as it was before.

The girl had no time to try to think of an explanation for all this, because the stranger was suddenly kneeling beside her. His hand outstretched towards her holding the scroll of parchment. It was very old and was covered in ornate writing that the girl couldn't recognize.

"There is a way…" He repeated the words from before. "All you have to do it sign it and your wishes will come true. It will be grand! Truly wonderful!" There was real spirit in the voice now, it caused the girl great excitement and a rush of adrenalin. She had been saved, after all; her prayers have been answered. She took the parchment from the man and then a small wooden box that he handed her.

The girl looked at the box not sure what to do. It was small, or a rectangular shape, and made of black steel.

"Open it."He commanded.

She did so and found that it was full of water and in this basin she found a silver knife.

"W-what is this." She exclaimed in surprise.

"Don't worry." He soothed her. "Changing the world is very hard, but there is nothing more powerful then the blood of someone as pure and innocent as yourself. Don't worry, it won' hurt at all and all you need are several drops." The strangers eyes twinkled, and his lips finally broke into the cordial smile they were suggesting this whole time. The melody of his voice carried everything within in. The pain, anger, and humiliation; the tears, despair, and the hope for change; finally the insatiable longing for this wonderful future.

The girl put her hand into the water and grasped the knife. The water was thick and cold, and the blade itself seemed to stick to her fingers. As she pulled it out, it seemed to her as if she had to overcome some mysterious force that held it in place, and, at the surface of the water, she had to give it a thug to remove it from the box and the liquid. A blinding flash illuminated the room and a deafening clap of thunder soon followed.

"Cut the thumb, index, and middle finger; you must sign the contract with your mind, body, and soul… Go on, a small nick will be enough. " He encouraged.

The girls kneeled down on the floor, spread out the parchment and brought the blade to her fingers. She didn't feel any pain as her skin parted against the blade on each of three fingers, but as the blood trickled out a loud hiss issued from the silver steel and the blood, that flowed freely clinging to the surface of the steel, turned a darker color.

"Go on! Quickly, or it will be lost. Just put your fingers against the contract!" The stranger urged the girl to go on. His eyes were wide with excitement now, the pupils blood red, and his voice sounded like the barking of a dog.

The girl knocked out of the state of surprise that the strange behavior of the blade had put her into, hastily pressed her bloody fingers against the parchment. A cloud of smoke immediately erupted from the contract and a horrible burning feeling cursed through the girls veins. As she struggled on the floor the parchment adsorbed her blood and turned a slightly different color. The man, now bearing the most hideous, gleeful smile, watched all this with hungry eyes, and burst into an insane, maniacal laughter that matched the raging thunder outside.

Henrietta writhed on the floor, her vision blurring, her world slipping away. But, in all the pain and all the chaos clarity slowly emerged in her mind. She felt a sudden pang of pain in her heart and a horrible rush as realization slowly dawned. Tears streamed down her face even as she slowly lost consciousness. Soon regret was all that she felt. In that instant the thoughts of her own selfishness and near sightedness, that had been locked away previously, came to her readily now.

I'm sorry Jose! I'm really so sorry! Please. Please. Will I lose you now? I made a mistake, a very big mistake. I was so stupid. I can't loose you. It's all because I wanted you to appreciate me so very much. You're the only one I have; there is no one else I really care about. When your not there my life is meaningless. So, please! Oh, please let me see you again! Her thoughts grew silent like an echo is a boundless cave, or the ripples on a pond, and finally the surface of her mind became perfectly clear, and silence prevailed.




Not all that happy with this, but I really anted to get it done. Writing in all the tags was argh.

I suck at endings... (not really, even, an ending yet)