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I think I have to fundamentally disagree as far as the pacing goes. There is a lot in this story and in this world, but that's part of why I want to take such a slow and measured build with it, and why the prologue is what it is. If I'm being honest I don't know what you'd categorize this story as. I'm not writing it in those terms or that way of thinking. It's a little bit of all of that I guess. What it IS, is my love letter to, and attempt at, an original Tokusatsu story in novel form. Tokusatsu is a Japanese term that effectively means just special effects, but has been defined as Japanese Super Heroes. You'd know a fairly popular one in the United States as Power Rangers, maybe Ultraman and very unlikely Kamen Rider, though if you lived abroad you'd also know of the Metal Heroes, Kikaider and numerous other genres and specific heroes. Japanese heroes don't tend to stay in one lane, genre wise. They don't just fight aliens or magical things or demons. Typically they do a hodgepodge of things. They also operate on very different morality and scales than american super heroes. You spotted a feeling similar to DBZ, which isn't inaccurate I suppose. DBZ is very much influenced by tokusatsu, with Toriyama being a big fan of Ultraman and taking several of the attacks and abilities from there into his own work. The Ginyu Force is a send up and parody of Super Sentai and the Great Sayiaman is a nod to Kamen Rider. So there's some bleed over that isn't intentional, but isn't wrong either. I have a fair bit of enthusiasm for the genre, if you couldn't tell from my avatar, and that's in a large way where this story comes from. This is just an attempt to tell a serious, original tale in that style, with the Neo Damocles operating as more traditional Western style super hero types, for the most part. They still have their roots in Asian hero stuff as well, but it varies from member to member. Debra Darling is a nod to many female super heroes from both sides of the ocean with a hopefully new twist put on her. The story also has some serious inspiration from works like Berserk and Alan Moore's run on Miracleman. Now if this doesn't work for you or doesn't appeal to you, that's more than fine and there's not a whole lot I can do about that. It's just Why I'm doing it this way, instead of just making it one simple kind of thing. Maybe it's more than I can chew? We'll see! You do bring up an excellent point I will have to address and emphasize is locations, and most importantly, how empty Los Atlanta is. That is something I am definitely going to have to dive into more when I come back around to edit chapter 1 A large problem might come from Jordan's POV voice. The reason why the threat is treated so casually is because that is exactly how he is treating it. Jordan is some one who has been doing this for a very long time and was in some way responsible for the destruction of the original Atlanta to begin with. Jordan is not a typical, normal POV character, which is gone into more in chapter 2. The fact that he ignores his ribs being busted up like they are is intentional but it's something I need to convey better. That's basically what I need to work on. Conveying Jordan's worldview better. In some ways I think I'm being too overt, in others I think I'm holding too much back. So I'll see if I can strike a happier balance there.
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Sep 23, 2017 20:02
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I know what super sentai is. What I'm saying is that I struggled to get a sense of personality and tone. The DBZ thing was because you had two characters chatting to each other about their power levels, not because it stylistically resembles DBZ. The problem is not that I'm trying to pidgeonhole your story into a genre, it's that I can't tell what kind of tone your story is trying to set. If you want to have a slow build, that's fine. But you're going to have to find some kind of hook, something that gets into people and makes them go "ah, gently caress, I want to read more of this." Right now, it reads like a lot of ideas that you find interesting, but if I was an actual reader picking up this book, I probably wouldn't make it halfway through the first chapter before putting it down. Telling me about the worldbuilding you've done isn't going to do that. Giving me character, flavor, goals, motivations--that will. If you want to have a protagonist that's casual about everything, that's fine. But again, you're going to have to get across what his motivations are, what problems stand in his way, and how he's going to overcome them.
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Sep 23, 2017 21:11
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Why is it named Los Atlanta, anyway? I couldn't figure that out when I was reading the first draft but I forgot all about it until it got pointed out again in here.
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Sep 23, 2017 21:17
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Los Atlanta is just a place holder name for now. The intent is just New Atlanta, but without being quite as obvious as that. Just something to quickly and easily signify that this is not the world we know, with a major city having a new name, and in universe it's meant to be renamed due to its total rebirth. Atalanta, Neo Atlanta, and the tongue and cheek Atlantas were the other options in my head when I finally make a pull on it. Los Atlanta is there for the moment as a nod to Los Angeles, where a lot of MMPR was shot. It literally doesn't matter beyond just being A Name.
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Sep 23, 2017 21:51
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Burkion posted:Los Atlanta is just a place holder name for now. The intent is just New Atlanta, but without being quite as obvious as that. Just something to quickly and easily signify that this is not the world we know, with a major city having a new name, and in universe it's meant to be renamed due to its total rebirth. I figured the intent was New Atlanta, but what you have now doesn't mean 'New Atlanta'. It means 'The (plural) Atlanta'. It doesn't really matter because it's a placeholder, but for people reading this who don't know that, it looks kind of ridiculous. You could always keep it as a form of satire, of course, but seeing as the rest of the book doesn't really hit that tone, it wouldn't make a lot of sense in context. Still, the idea of a mayor who wants to pander to a non-existant Spanish-speaking population but doesn't know any spanish beyond what he's seen on maps is pretty loving funny to me. FormerPoster fucked around with this message at 22:05 on Sep 23, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 22:02
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Incompetent government is always a theme somewhere! And yeah I didn't mean that Los Atlanta literally meant New, just that that's what it should evoke. In reality it's nonsense that, as you mentioned, could work as an in-universe bit of pandering. One reason I chose Atlanta to begin with was because of how ethnically diverse it is, and how those are the people that would have to move there even if they don't particularly trust the place. Jordan himself is Hispanic-Japanese, and the general rule of the place is that white people actually living in the city are a minority, unless they themselves are barely getting by. City of the future, where none of the rich or wealthy want to trust or set foot in it. In the original draft I largely glossed over the city and what it means since I was focused more on Alex's part of everything, but I'm going to be going into it a fair bit more with Jordan since he actually lives there. The tone of the story is, I guess, very bittersweet. What the city stands for and why it was built is at odds with who actually lives there and why they do. Most of the people that have moved there are relatives of the people that died in the original Atlanta, but feel like they're drawn to try and make a go of it here. It's just, when a city of nearly 500,000 people is all but vaporized off the face of the Earth by presumably alien threats, no one really wants to move back there especially when it's been rebuilt by alien forces. Jordan is a bit removed from it all, as he is in a lot of very human matters, but there are other characters that it affects far more personally that I hope to explore. Djes has given me an interesting idea for how to really codify the first chapter into what I want it to be, so I'm going to poke around at that for a bit.
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Sep 23, 2017 22:17
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So this version is meant to hopefully address Djer's concerns that my current first chapter doesn't get to the heart of the conflict fast enough. I'm sure it's rife with mistakes, though I did try to fix the ones in the material you've all already seen. CHAPTER 1 Jordan was weary. The ground beneath him was scorched, the dirt dragged into his grasp burning to cinders. He had to keep hold of himself, taking in his surroundings. When they had arrived, it was a collection of cheap homes, constructed on a dusty road outside of view of a massive rainforest. Now, the dirt road was scarred and many of the stone and wood buildings and their tin roofs gone. Broader, they were outside the Amazon River in Brazil, though Jordan wouldn’t be able to tell you where exactly. More important was the thing ahead of him, digging its talons into the earth. The screams from the people who lived here did not distract Jordan as he stood. He could not tell if they were screaming in fear or anger. The people did not concern him right now. The creature he had tracked down, the monster that he had fought across the rainforest and the rivers into this isolated area. That’s what had his attention. The beast that was trying to make its way to civilization to feed. Starting to move to the side, circling it as it moved to circle him, he wasn’t sure what it could be described as. It had avian and reptilian features mixed, with tendrils naturally extending from its torso like an octopus. He had been told it was named Irion for all the good it did him now. What he had not been told was that it possessed incredible healing abilities and could shake off almost any injury. He learned that through trial and error. He stepped over the bodies of the people that were caught in the blast. He had killed thirty people already. Those that hadn’t been lit aflame or pulverized by his actions scattered, either running, biking, or getting away in whatever vehicles still functioned. He had made a mistake. He wasn’t looking, he had gotten frustrated, and he unleashed hell on these poor people. Irion had been heading to a river city called Santarem to feast. He had found it near the Amazon River, far away from society and tried to end the fight there. Not knowing how resilient the creature was, he had assumed it dead once he caved its chest in. Instead it escaped and he gave chase. Across the forest, into the river, they had fought. For a time, he tried to drown it but was ultimately unable. As it neared its location, he veered their direction off across swamp lands, all for nothing because they ended up near people all the same. If he had a flesh and blood body he would have no doubt that exhaustion would have claimed him after the many miles and constant struggle. At the moment he did not possess a body of flesh and blood, but one of metal and lightning. A body brimming with power, destructive energy that he fought to contain and restrict. He might have been able to put down the beast sooner, if not for the risk of setting the whole of the Amazon aflame. Human lives were the cost. They often were. Irion screeched, making the first move. It had learned that Jordan did not need to breathe, and similarly that raking its talons across what exposed areas that were not covered by ion forged metal was all but pointless. Instead it bolted, smashing through the brick and mortar of another home. Jordan, his voice amplified with electric crackle, growled in frustration. Irion was a predator, it sought food that didn’t give it too hard a time. With a bullet proof hide and unimaginable survivability that left most anything on the Earth on its menu. Jordan was not something it could eat, not something it could easily fight, and due to this, was something to avoid and escape from. Jordan knew that agility was his greatest weakness, so trying to keep up with the nimble and fast monster was more than a chore. He considered unleashing a burst of electricity, halt it in its tracks but held back. Too many people. Too many lives already taken. Jordan put on a burst of speed, his energy form escaping from his armor confines. He flowed forward, aware of the exploding power transformers and burning telephone poles in his wake. He reached Irion, slamming into and through it, and emerged on the other side. His armor, following behind, whirled into blades tearing its tendrils to shreds and leaving deep gashes across its bestial form. He took a human shape again, his armor taking shape around him. Already the damage was undoing itself. Tendrils that weren’t completely severed were reattaching, while those that were removed just had new growths burst from the wounds. Jordan leaped at the creature, knowing how to end the fight. Irion swing one of its legs up, talons aimed at his mostly unarmored face. It sunk its claws in, tearing at where his mouth and eyes should be. He ignored it all the same, snapping the leg in half by driving his head forward into the attack, digging the talons in all the deeper. He tackled the monster to the ground while it struggled beneath him, biting and snapping, its leg regenerating and joining the other in kicking at the ground. Using one hand to pin its torso to the ground with the strength he had, he rained blows down with his free hand on the creature’s skull. He felt it crack and soften before giving way, but did not stop. Releasing its torso, he violently drove both of his fists into the head of the beast, great gouts of neon blue blood spraying across the dusty roads and ruined land. Jordan had not been taught how to fight. He had no training in any kind of martial arts or self-defense. What skill he had was self-learned, earned through trial and error in fights that would mean his death if he had lost. One thing he had learned early was that nothing could shrug off damage to its head. Satisfied that Irion would not be moving again, Jordan moved from the creature and prepared to obliterate its remains, deciding where best to take it to do so. The people who lived around the area were catching on that the worst of the fighting was over. Tentatively they began to approach the crown wearing blood stained light enshrined in metal and the strange monstrous creature he had slain. Jordan could feel them approach, knowing he had to move faster. He grabbed Irion and slung it over his shoulders, the creature more than twice his own size. The weight of it did not hinder him any though he noticed that it was still twitching, giving him pause. He would have left then and there, if not for a ripple in the air near him. The air formed into a circle, a stable vortex opening. A teleportation tunnel. Jordan could see it, but that was due to how he saw the world now through electric waves and energy signatures. A normal human wouldn’t have seen anything at all until those using this vortex emerged. More people were arriving, anger flaring up in Jordan’s body trying to manifest through his power. He held it at bay as a blue skinned man in streamlined armor, a humanoid reptilian cyborg wearing a heavy exoskeleton with several weapons attached across it, and an altogether too normal looking woman with violet eyes appeared. Riot Trigger, Heavy Weapons Damien, Thea Salone. Jordan knew them well. The blue skinned man grinned, sweeping his hair back with his hand. “Well, thank you kindly there, friend.” He eyed the area around, power lines burning and falling to the ground, homes in disarray, arcing an eyebrow at him. “Was all this necessary though?” Jordan did not like that people were coming forward. They were getting too close. The children were terrified of him as they should be, but seeing those three made them perk up. They were the Neo Damocles after all, the heroes of humanity. Thea was watching them as well. “You may leave the carcass with us now.” Jordan stepped towards her, Riot Trigger and the Heavy Weapons Damien moving to block her. He looked between the two of them. Irion was squirming in his grasp, its brainstem trying to regrow. “If I don’t want to?” “We’ll take it from you.” The Heavy Weapons Damien armed its weapon systems. He dug his grip into Irion’s flank. “You think you can?” Thea pushed past her two bodyguards. “What I want to know, are you really willing to risk the loss of life in trying to oppose us?” These were three members of the Neo Damocles. Heroes of humanity, saviors from another world. Jordan could hear murmurs from the crowd that had formed, admiring them, many wondering what he was. Riot Trigger and HWD he could beat, though not without casualties. Thea would be tricky. He was worn as it was and she had a legion of machines to call. Was he willing to throw their lives away over a spat. Did Irion’s body matter that much. He wasn’t sure. “Where did Irion come from?” Thea looked annoyed at the question. “Rogue Cabal experiment. Must have gotten free of some hidden base of theirs.” “I don’t believe you.” “You don’t trust us.” “Same thing.” Irion would heal the damage sooner than he’d like. If it did it here, the point would be moot for all the lives that could be lost. If he tried to leave, they would attack him and he wasn’t sure if he would retaliate or not. He wanted to. He very much wanted to. The city was not that far away. It would be all too trivial for the fighting to spill there. For the death toll to rise. For another city to fall because of his actions. He hurled the body of Irion at Thea, HWD catching it with some effort. She smiled. “Thank you for seeing reason, Lightning Black.” “Don’t call me that.” He wasn’t one of their drat heroes, he wasn’t one of their soldiers. He had been fighting longer than they had been on Earth. Electricity built up in the air. “You keep making a scene like this, Lightning Black,” her smile widened. “We won’t be able to clean up after you anymore. You could have left Irion for us to deal with.” “I don’t trust you.” “You don’t believe in us.” “Same thing.” Thea waved him off. “Your choice. Be well, Lightning Black.” The vortex opened behind them, Thea stepping in first. Irion would be able to act again soon, maybe five minutes, but they would be able to contain it. Riot Trigger winked at the crowd, while the Heavy Weapons Damien nodded to Jordan before both departed. Jordan wanted to hit something. He wanted to keep fighting. He wanted to rest. He could do none of these things. Summoning his power, he reached into the sky and found the electric wavelength he needed to contact his own base. Beita’s voice entered his head. “You okay Jordan?” “Fine. If you could teleport me home, I’d appreciate it.” Beita’s teleportation was a very different kind of thing than the tunnels Thea used. Thea’s method was not instant, with having to travel through the pathways of space to arrive at your location. Beita’s was. There was no portal, no entry way, no tunnel. The machine she used seized on your every atom, all at once, and instantly moved you from one place to another. To say that it was quite painful would not be entirely truthful. It worked for what it was needed for, and the pain didn’t matter. Jordan found himself deposited in his apartment. He hadn’t specified which home, but Beita knew he would need a change of clothes. “Thank you Beita.” “Any time Jordan!” “Did you get some rest? You’ve been helping me track Irion for the last few days.” “I don’t want to hear that from you!” “Beita.” “I’ll get some later. I’m still trying to figure out where that thing came from! Did Thea tell you anything?” “No more than usual. I’m going to head out.” In truth, he wasn’t sure if it had been days. How long had it been since he left this time? He hadn’t been paying attention. He let go of the power, like releasing a tensed muscle. The metal was consumed by the electric energy that spawned it, with that energy itself burning out until the body he had been born with was left. The body that was no longer truly his. Pain that he had been ignoring hit him all at once, the pain of teleporting, the pain of his injuries, and the pain of his body being forced to fight for as long as it had. His hand brushed against his face, finding the lingering scars from the last action of Irion. They would heal eventually. All at once he was aware of the cold air in his apartment, his clothes destroyed by his transformation. Jordan went to his closet, his apartment bereft of most personal items that would otherwise clutter such a small space up making his trip there all the easier. After grabbing some simple clothing, he decided to head out. Yumi would be at work, so he could avoid explaining his newfound scars for the moment. There was nothing for him in his apartment, which would look unoccupied if not for a sink full of half cleaned bloodstains. He eyed it for a moment before deciding to finish cleaning it later. Breathing in deep, he was reminded of what it felt like to have lungs again. He opened the door and left to try and clear his head, get some grounding to be surrounded by normal people again. Most people, normal people, would be in bed at 4 AM. Jordan found some amusement at the idea, in a very bitter sense. He found himself in the rebuilt Memorial Park of Los Atlanta, going on one of his irregular jogs. He wasn’t going fast, taking in the scenery around him. Most of the trees were artificial, though the general public didn’t know that. Real trees would be quietly moved in, but for the moment the image was what mattered. The image of a thriving park in the heart of a successfully reborn city. A city that rose from the ashes less than a decade after its total destruction. It gave people hope, he supposed. He couldn’t fault the logic for that, but disapproved of the lie all the same. It didn’t matter. Let them do what they wanted. His shift at AAACooper Transportation would be starting soon, so he shifted his path towards the west side of the city. He was part time only, despite their insistence of accepting a full position. He had been told he was officially known as a dock worker, though that was mostly for the certification. He did not work around water of any sort. If they kept pushing, he’d have to walk away. That was fine, too. It’d open the spot for someone else. As it was, he was content with the work. It kept him busy when he had nothing else going on and made him productive. It wasn’t much but it let him help people and protect others from on sight accidents. What was today? He knew he had hours this week, but lost track of time. Or was it last week that he had hours? He got to thinking about the park again, the intention behind it. The attitude that pervaded it, that stretched out into the city beyond. The sidewalks were nice enough, made of some material he didn’t have a name for. Some alloy or plastic or other that could gather sunlight to power generators beneath the city. Glancing to the glowing roads, they were same material and in theory the illumination was to help keep pedestrians safe at night, eliminate the need for street lights. All of the city was rebuilt to appear safe, welcoming. A gleaming jewel of glowing metal and plastic at the heart of rustic Georgia. Pretty fancy tech, certainly not of human origin. He didn’t figure human engineering would crack something this sophisticated for a long while yet, but he mostly kept that to himself. He didn’t even finish high school after all. Hell, maybe he was off base, maybe human scientists did rig this together. He didn’t believe that, but it would be nice. On a whim, he wrapped his knuckle against the window of a building he was passing. Instead of glass, he found the distinct feeling of metal. A transparent alloy that, if he remembered right, operated much the same as the roads and sidewalks. Solar batteries to keep the city running in the worst of situations. He knew that if he hit it harder, it would crack. Only an illusion of safety. He had moved into Los Atlanta seven years ago, before it was anything more than a few half-built structures and didn’t have the new name. Back then he worked construction, tried his best to help pull the city back together again as a human. Even got his GED to be allowed to work the cranes, not that he had much interest in that part of the job. The funding just wasn’t there, the damage was too severe, to deep. He remained regardless, did his best where he could. Then the Neo Damocles came five years ago. Heroes from space, here to save the world. They meant well, he hoped. Despite how much they clashed, how bitterly they could disagree, he hoped they were genuine. What made him doubt that hope was that they hadn’t arrived alone. No hero comes without a villain to fight. He spied his coworkers up ahead and put on a bit more speed. The sun was starting to make itself known, peeking over the horizon. He must have taken longer than he thought. He didn’t have much to change, having taken his jog in jeans and a shirt. He just needed to grab his safety vest. Weller, his superior, waved him over. A younger man was beside him, yawning. New face. “Jordan, I’d like you to escort Mr. Benton around.” Jordan nodded. New hire, made sense. He tended to be the one to show the new people the ropes. Mr. Benton stared at him, a sudden case of nerves knocking out his weariness. “You got a first name there, Mr. Benton?” Jordan offered his hand to the younger man, who seemed startled at the action. “Yeah, name’s Ian.” He nodded a few too many times, taking Jordan’s hand with apprehension. “You don’t have to worry so much, Ian. We’re all friendly around here.” Normally the job of showing the new hires around fell to a senior officer, but Jordan had been working long enough to count as far as Weller was concerned. Technically he was only allowed 30 hours a week, due to being part time, but if he had the free time he often helped out far more than that. He didn’t care about the fact that they couldn’t pay him for the extra hours. It didn’t really matter. Ian was a relatively fast learner, picking up the subtleties of the job with aplomb. Most importantly, one was not to try and move the larger crates from the trucks without support. Teamwork was important in unloading and loading freight, and if you tried to do it on your own you’d only hurt yourself. More importantly, you’d damage whatever you were trying to fix. Jordan tried to be calm and understanding, but Ian’s nervousness and fear around him was annoying. He wondered if it was the relatively fresh scars across his face, or his eyes. Jordan had been told in the past that he often had a very intense gaze, though he tried to mitigate that. Wondering about the reasons left him unable to catch Ian’s mistake. Too focused on the wrong things. Ian was supposed to secure the crate that they had loaded into a dolly, but had only connected one strap properly. Jordan only caught it too late, as Ian tried to move the dolly only for the crate to snap free. Shouts of panic and alarm rang out, honestly annoying Jordan more than the 500 pound weight that now had him pinned to the ground. It had smashed into his chest, driving him down the ramp and next to a wall. He could feel ribs cracking, maybe worse. A familiar voice shouted out to quiet the others. “Calm down already!” Had to be Lucy. “You still alive under there, Arnaz?” “I’m fine.” He checked the crate on top of him the best he could, patting its sides. Thankfully it seemed to be okay. “Alright folks, get back to work! Benton, get your rear end down here! Fall, go grab Weller where ever he got off to!” Lucy took charge quick, which Jordan appreciated. He had to figure out a way to move the crate without breaking whatever was inside of it. That wouldn’t look good for the company and would draw unwanted attention. “What in Christ’s name happened this time!” Weller had arrived, evidently. Jordan started to move the crate to the side, nudging it. He felt his left ribs crack more and bit back the blood that entered his mouth. “I wasn’t keeping an eye on Ian’s work.” It really was his fault, after all. His thoughts had wandered and mistakes were made. “You can just knock it off yourself, Jordan, Jesus.” Weller sounded equal parts annoyed and frustrated. Jordan couldn’t blame the man. “It’s okay.” Gently, he got the box to the side of his body. The weight of it made a muffled noise hitting the concrete. “See? No harm done.” Standing to stretch, Jordan suppressed a wince as his ribs bit into one another. Ian was looking at him in horror. “That thing had to weigh a ton! How are you okay?” Jordan waved him off. “It wasn’t that much. Must have caught me the right way.” “Lucy, you take over Ian for now.” Weller had stepped in. “I needed to speak with Jordan anyways.” “Come on, new kid. Let’s make sure you don’t try and murder anyone else today.” Lucy directed the increasingly baffled Ian away, who was still sputtering about the incident. Jordan considered the crate for a moment. It was medical equipment for the St. Mary Hospital downtown. That was another reason he wanted to be careful with it. He knew Weller was looking him over. The first time they had met, Jordan had been working part time past his 30 hours, and Weller had just transferred in. An incident with a truck’s breaks had occurred, and Jordan was pinned against a wall for a good ten minutes before it could be moved. Since, Jordan tried to take the brunt of the onsite accidents, if he could help it. Better for everyone involved. Weller sighed. “Not going to do me any good to ask how you’re doing, is it?” Jordan smiled at Weller, though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. For most people, they didn’t really notice the difference. The appearance of a smile was all they really wanted, the assurance of happiness. What the person actually felt or thought didn’t matter. If he was counting, he knew he hadn’t rested in a few days before beginning his latest hunt. Even for him, that was pushing it. “I’m fine.” “There’s a woman outside waiting for you.” Weller thumbed back, to the entrance of the unloading and loading area. “Yumi?” She should be ending her shift about now, but she’d have no reason to swing by here from the hospital. “No, this is some white girl, blonde, half shaved head.” Weller shook his head. “Looks like trouble. Want me to tell her to get lost?” Jordan grimaced. “No. It’s okay.” Breathing in, he calmed himself down. His ribs were aching, but a dull ache. He could feel a heat, deep in his chest. He knew who it would be. “You mind if I head out?” “Yeah, sure.” Weller turned to supervise the rest of the workers. Jordan stopped before leaving. “What is today, Weller?” “Christ how do you lose track all the loving time!” Jordan shrugged at the older man, ignoring the fresh pain that it brought. “November 21st, idiot. Need to remember the year too?” A dark feeling flashed over Jordan. He smiled at Weller, waving at him as he walked away. “No thanks. Talk to you later, Weller.” “It’s still 2007, Jordan! You know, in case you start forgetting basic poo poo like the year! Your lotto numbers are,” Jordan stopped listening to him at that point. Weller was an understanding guy, but some things stuck in his craw something fierce. A glare settled on Jordan’s features while he considered the date. Three more days, and it’d be ten years. Ten years since Atlanta was destroyed. Ten years since Rebecca died. Ten years since he and Anna killed nearly four hundred thousand people. He spied the blonde waiting for him at the gate. She was leaning against a fence, admiring her nails. He could see past her disguise easy enough. Rearranged her skin, changed her hair, hid her weapons, even fussed with her own facial structure and she still couldn’t hide from him. “What do you want, Debra?” His deep voice gained a bit more gravel than he meant to add. He didn’t like to show naked annoyance quite so easily. Debra smiled at him, a smile every bit as false as the face she currently wore. “Jordan, please. Can’t I visit a dear friend?” His glare was the only response she would get. Shrugging with her right arm only, she tilted her head to the side. “Thought you’d like to come along. I’m going to San Juan in a few. Heard there was a thing happening.” “A thing.” Jordan crossed his arms. “Some kind of Looter operation.” Looter. Jordan hated the term. Five years ago, the Neo Damocles had arrived on Earth, proclaiming themselves the champions of humanity. Just before they had arrived, a different group had come. Their full name was never made clear, some kind of language barrier, but the gist of it was the Cabal of the Primarch. Looter was a derogatory nickname the Damocles came up with and spread around. Meant to dehumanize the Cabal and distance their actions from their motives. Encouraged people not to think about who they were or what they wanted. “I heard that some of their higher-level members may be floating around.” Debra continued unabated. “Where did you hear this?” Debra smiled at Jordan. It made him want to punch her face in. “You know the Shadow Maiden. She has eyes everywhere.” Jordan’s hands drew into fists. “Why include me?” Debra laughed, the sound grating on his nerves. “You’d just barge in anyways, if it’s as big as the Shadow Maiden seems to think it’s going to be.” Debra leaned in, putting one hand on Jordan’s shoulder and whispering into his ear. “Supposedly, Ygis and maybe even Dokuver are going to be involved. Isn’t that exciting?” “Let go of me.” She leaned harder on his shoulder with her left arm. “Or what, you’ll take this arm like you did the right?” She waved her right hand at him, the skin flickering away briefly to reveal black metal. Her grin widened. “Come on, you can bring Beita. I’m sure she’d love to get out.” That made him waver. “Who else will be coming?” “Just us. You can think of it as our first unofficial, official, joint venture. If you’d like, anyways.” She settled into an easy smile, one hand on her hip. Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “So, it’s a scouting mission that you got stuck with.” Debra rolled her eyes, stepping away. “Yeah, so what? It’s my turn, but it’s so boring!” Jordan was never clear exactly how much of her childishness was put on, and how much of it was genuine. “I’m one of the Elite! I shouldn’t have to go on some lovely beginner scouting mission.” “You can blend into a crowd better than anyone.” Debra glared at him. “They could wear holographic disguises.” Now she had her arms crossed. Jordan was reaching into his pocket for his phone. “Could, but those aren’t as convincing as what you do.” There it was. Appearance wise, it was just a normal flip phone, a little beat up. Screen was cracked, but otherwise it was fine. “Well I am nothing if not convincing.” She was trying to lay on the charm again. Jordan didn’t bother to respond as he started to walk away, pressing one hidden button on the phone. This phone’s sole function was to connect directly to the base, to the electric wavelength that it produced that he could access while transformed. It didn’t take a moment for the other side of the line to pick up. “Jordan?” The childlike voice was so curious and happy, though notably confused. He had just talked with her a few hours ago. “Get something nice on, kiddo. We’re going to go sightseeing for a little while.” He ignored Debra behind him who was pestering him about something or other. “Really? Great! Are you up for it? You got pretty torn up last night and,” Beita was babbling. He smiled but knew she’d be several tangents deep if he didn’t stop her. “I’m fine, Beita. Come on. Debra’s treating us to a day at San Juan.” After a moment, he clarified. “In Puerto Rico.” When you could travel like they could, you had to be specific. “Should I go straight there, or head to Los Atlanta first?” Her voice was distant, she must have stepped away to get busy. “Come to us. Debra will escort us.” Jordan looked back at the older woman. “Won’t you, Debra?” “Well I’m certainly not going your way.” Debra leaned in over Jordan’s shoulder to his annoyance. “Beita, dear, be sure to pick a nice dress!” “Will do!” Jordan closed the phone, moving away from Debra. Pocketing his phone, he started to walk down the street. Shops would be opening now, and the city would be coming to life. Staring up at the apartment buildings, he thought of how the city had been rebuilt from the ground up to hold as many as New York. It barely had more than the original Atlanta, only four hundred thousand or so. Even with the Neo Damocles aiding in its reconstruction as a sign of good will, many would rather avoid the place all together. Debra noticed him eyeing the scenery. “We do good work, don’t we Jordan? You have to admit that.” “If only people trusted you enough to live here.” Jordan looked towards his apartment building. He wondered if he should contact Yumi. “They’ll catch on, eventually. This place could survive an earthquake untouched. No other city on Earth can boast that, yet.” Jordan eyed Debra critically. Yet. “If you’re trying to get a rise out of me, stop it.” He wondered how long it’d take Beita to get ready. Hoped she remembered to grab the hologram ring. “So little faith, Jordan!” Debra laughed. It grated on his ears. “We’re not going to force anyone to adopt our technology. Between you and me, I think some of your science groups have been stealing designs from here anyways. The basis for the technology will be naturally seeded out and one day every human city will be built like this.” A dark look passed over her features. “At least every one that matters.” “They all matter.” He didn’t bother to look back at her. “Not to the government they don’t.” Debra was quiet a moment, before speaking up. “So, this city could survive a nuke now, I think. Some structural damage, but overall, it’d weather it fairly well. Though I wonder, could it survive you?” Jordan looked back at her. Debra had her eyes closed, smiling. “Shut up. She’s coming.” Jordan looked ahead as a bright light suddenly appeared. From within it, a child emerged. Though the road showed more activity now, Jordan didn’t worry much. A little girl, no older than nine, in a pretty little uniform. At least Jordan knew that’s how she appeared to anyone else. To him, he could see through the hologram, see her metal body and synthetic hair. “Hey, Beita.” She hugged his arm. “Thank you for bringing me!” She was still just a little girl otherwise. With some effort that he didn’t make obvious, he lifted her up to eye level. “Any time.” He smiled softly at her before glancing at Debra. “Just for warning, Beita, we may run into some trouble. Debra’s being wishy washy about it, but there are possibly Cabal Troops planning something.” “That’s fine! Nothing you can’t handle!” She really did believe in him. It was enough to make his chest ache. Debra elbowed him in his cracked ribs. “You’re right there, Beita! Jordan can fight back any monsters, can’t you?” Beita let go of his arm, landing gracefully on her feet. “Of course he could!” She gave him a thumbs up, Debra mirroring the young girl. Jordan sighed. “Of course I could Beita. That’s what I’m here for.” He ruffled her hair, letting his thumb pass over the golden star embedded in her forehead, hidden from normal sight. She giggled at the sensation. Looking back at Debra, his smile faltered. “You have a time table of when things are supposed to go down?” She shrugged. “Who knows? It’s not like they have a schedule for extraterrestrial terrorist attacks.” This should annoy him. This should bother him. At this point, after these amount of years, he just didn’t care anymore. It was expected. “Let’s go then.” The three of them moved out of the streets, into an alley. They weren’t too worried about being seen, but drawing too much attention was not desirable. Debra touched what looked like a watch on her wrist, and then they were gone. They arrived at the outskirts of San Juan, Beita overjoyed. She took in the lush tropic scenery, the heavy forest and the vast ocean not too far away. The city itself was compact and intricate, stonework and modern engineering mixed. A thousand different sounds and a thousand different smells hit all at once. In her long years on the planet, she had never been here before. Not that she could recall, at any rate. “What can we do here, where can we go?” She was pulling on Debra’s sleeve, the cyborg laughing at the child’s energy. “We’ll stalk around a few places. I’ll get you a milkshake, would you like that Beita?” Debra was all smiles, happy to play the mother role. Jordan wondered how much of it was genuine but decided that it didn’t matter. Jordan ignored the two for a moment, tuning out Debra, looking around. He could feel something was going on. There was a heat in the city that shouldn’t have been here, and a feeling of electricity in the air. He hadn’t been to San Juan since 1993. He was so young then. It had recovered nicely, he supposed. Certainly didn’t have the Damocles’ claws all over it, though signs of the Supreme United Nations were everywhere. He eyed cameras hidden across the streets and buildings critically. He was going to have a meeting with Christine soon, he realized. Yet it was organic, natural. It was a human city, through and through. Not like Atlanta. “Jordan, can we go?” Beita was grabbing his hand to get his attention. He nodded wordlessly. It didn’t matter where they went. Debra must have seen the look in his eyes. At times, he wished he could trust the Neo Damocles more. She approached him from the side, brushing up behind him. “So Dokuver is here, I take it?” “More.” He gestured towards a building, an apartment complex. “Someone like me is here. A potential host.” “We haven’t noticed anyone.” She looked at him incredulous. “You don’t look. They’re not aware of it anyways.” Beita was leading them to an ice cream shop Debra had told her about, the cyborg switching sides and saddling up next to the girl. Beita was walking lockstep with Jordan. He realized they must look like quite the family. One Japanese man, one white woman, and one Indian little girl. It almost made him smile. He felt the heat moving. He felt the electricity grow stronger as they neared the apartment building. It was without question now. The Cabal were active here, after something. One of his own was here as well, unaware of what they were capable of. If their powers awoke in the middle of a city like this, Jordan knew well what could happen. What had happened in the past. Of course, worst of all, he was here. Working with the Neo Damocles. He was going to have to decide just how much he could trust them, before a lot more people died.
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Sep 24, 2017 22:00
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If you took the new bit you put at the front of this chapter and had that be Chapter 1, that would be a decent first chapter. I do think there's still explaining that you're doing in there that you could cut down on for the sake of a stronger action scene, but it's a much better introduction to the character and to one of the conflicts. There's also the sorts of things I've called out in other line crits--bits that are unclear, some awkward lines, lack of clear dialogue attribution, sentences that need to be split up--but I won't bother reiterating that since you already know to look out for those. I also feel like the second half, which is pretty much the same in content as the old chapter 1, still has a lot of fluff that you could cut back on. If you finished chapter 1 with him coming home and collapsing into human form, then jumped into chapter 2 with him intercepting the work accident, you'd be able to cut out the down time where he's just jogging and ogling the city and explaining his job situation. I didn't read through the whole thing, but I took a peek at some bits as I was scrolling through it, and while I do appreciate the attempt to include a little bit more description of the setting, it still fell pretty flat to me. quote:She took in the lush tropic scenery, the heavy forest and the vast ocean not too far away. The city itself was compact and intricate, stonework and modern engineering mixed. A thousand different sounds and a thousand different smells hit all at once. It sounds kind of like a blurb in a travel guide, instead of a description of someone seeing a tropical city they've never seen before. There's not really any imagery in it--like even after reading this, I can't visualize San Juan in my head. I know it's next to a tropical forest and an ocean, and that there's both stone buildings and modern buildings, and that there are many noises and smells. You don't need to write paragraphs about San Juan, but what if instead, the paragraph read more like this? (Warning: my knowledge of San Juan is based on about ten minutes in Google Maps.) quote:They arrived at the outskirts of San Juan. Beita was overjoyed. From where they stood, she could see all the way across the bay to Old San Juan, with its shoreline equal parts fresh-faced hotels and mossy walls of Spanish stone. The bay itself was dotted with sails and ships, and off to the north, stretched into the deep blue of the Caribbean. In her long years on the planet, she had never been here before. Not that she could recall, at any rate. I tried to use some of the same things you did, but just increase the focus. Instead of "stonework and modern engineering" I used seafront hotels and Spanish forts. Instead of the ocean "not too far away", it's to the north beyond the bay. If you can be simple and concrete, you can do a lot with just a few sentences. You could do something like this for the physical descriptions of characters, too---pick out a few details and let that serve as a sketch. the sleek armor and slick, blue-skinned grin of Riot Trigger, the mess of reptilian scales and cybernetic firepower that was Heavy Weapons Damien, and Thea Salone, looking quite normal next to her partners, aside from the purple gleam in her eyes I'm not saying you have to write in the same style that I do or anything silly like that, but I think that when it comes to descriptions, you should focus on detail and specifics, instead of broad descriptions. The stuff you've written as descriptions feels very rough draft to me--like you've gotten the raw idea down on the page, but now you need to take that idea and fashion it into something that will leave an image in your readers' minds.
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Sep 24, 2017 23:06
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