"... Standing on the shoulders of giants."
Hello one and all. Recently, I decided to try a new form of writing, at least to me. I basically decide on a setting and other basic information and write a story from there with no other guidance other than that of my own mind. I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but I figured I might as well post what I have so far of the story I'm writing called matte black. Enjoy. :)
[font=Trebuchet MS]matte black.[/font]
[ c h a p t e r 1 ]
I ran for what seemed like hours. The darkness around me obscured my vision, and the ghostly mist created by the pounding rain didn't do any good. I couldn't see nor hear the men who so desired to end my life that they would chase me through GDA controlled territory. I had hoped that once I was beyond the city that they would be discouraged, but they were more determined than I had anticipated. Now my only hope was to run long enough for them to tire out so I could put some distance between them and I...
I looped in and out of alleyways and took unexpected turns at random intervals, but even so, they didn't seem to lose track of me. Was I bugged? Were they tracking me? Or were they that goddamn determined? Regardless, I kept up the pursuit. Eventually I'd lose them. Then, it hit me. A sharp pain shot through my nervous system as an unidentified projectile impacted my side. It couldn't have been shot by my pursuers. Someone else shot it from another location.
Even though I had been shot, I still attempted to keep moving. That was becoming an impossibility. I was losing too much blood. I slowed down as my muscles began to shut down. My vision blurred as blood flow slowed. I fell to the ground face first. I lay there for what seemed like days before a boot was slid under my body, which was then flipped over. I lay on my back and looked at my attackers. They wore trench coats and military fatigues beneath them. Their faces were obscured by masks. Who were they? I don't think I will ever if-
"Cybernet memory core playback cycle completed," said a disembodied feminine voice through the speakers of the terminal. Nearby, a machine withdrew a probe from the memory core of a recently murdered cybernet. Cybernet memory cores were modeled after the human brain and had similar capabilities, though one excelled at something the other didn't. The human brain could think more abstractly than the cybernet memory core, while the cybernet memory core can run through complex calculations more quickly than the human brain. However, the cybernet memory core also had one other capability: it could store information in a such a way that it could be played back later. This proved to come in handy in crime solving. If a cybernet were there, they could be probed for information. However, in this case, the playback made more holes in the story.
Staff Sergeant Cole Harvenson sighed in frustration. He had hoped that this would be the evidence he needed to put this case to rest, but it wasn't the case. He stood up from the slightly uncomfortable terminal chairs and walked over to a coffee machine. He stared at it for a moment before deciding otherwise and returned to the terminal. After punching a few keys, a data chip was ejected from a slot near the screen. He took the data chip and put it into a protective sleeve before walking out of the room and into a cramped metal hallway.
I swear, ONI getting more and more paranoid with every colony they are put in control of he thought to himself as he walked passed the numerous other facilities that linked to Subsection Corridor A, and the Ring isn't any better.
The Ring and Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) were the two most important agencies in the Alliance of Colonized Worlds (ACW) and the Global Defense Array (GDA). If there was one thing Cole had come to dislike, it's the amount of acronyms used in the military, and ONI, ACW, and GDA were only a handful. "Too much military jargon is used these days," he once said. Still, he found the titles to be nicer and more bearable than the actual agencies themselves. ONI was hopelessly paranoid about everything, instating ridiculous codes that were almost impossible to follow in an effort to "maintain morale and a sense of order." Bullshit as far as Cole was concerned. The Ring, on the other hand, was almost sinister in the way they handled most everything. They didn't care about the cost, only the results. In some situations, this ideology would come in handy, but in every situation? Not so much.
Cole shook these thoughts off as he entered the building's lobby. It was a bit of a shock to see the demeanor of the decor change so suddenly. Where Cole had just been, the walls were made of nearly two feet of lead-steel alloy and was pretty much void of any decoration. It was all business. The lobby was a lot different. It was smartly decorated with a multitude of neatly trimmed plants, bistre leather furniture, rare paintings, mahogany carpet, and walls painted maroon. Add to that the oak desk that the receptionist sat at and you wouldn't have known it was a military installation. Cole gave the receptionist a respectful nod before walking through the mahogany doors - and into another steel box.
Cole's heavy footsteps echoed off the dense walls as he made his way from corridor to corridor. Along the way, he stopped at least ten times for the overly paranoid security clearance stations to confirm that he was indeed Staff Sergeant Cole Harvenson. Finally, he stood in front of the door that led into what had become known as "The Lair..." essentially, a place where the officers that composed the Ring met, schemed, and condemned those who were unlucky enough to walk in uninvited. Luckily for Cole, he was authorized to enter hell's underbelly. The only thing separating him from verbal abuse from men well into their late 70's was hydraulics operated slab of steel. He punched in the security codes, and moments later, he heard the sounds of hydraulics hissing to life as they hefted the steel door. Cole took another deep breath and entered the room.
I ran for what seemed like hours. The darkness around me obscured my vision, and the ghostly mist created by the pounding rain didn't do any good. I couldn't see nor hear the men who so desired to end my life that they would chase me through GDA controlled territory. I had hoped that once I was beyond the city that they would be discouraged, but they were more determined than I had anticipated. Now my only hope was to run long enough for them to tire out so I could put some distance between them and I...
I looped in and out of alleyways and took unexpected turns at random intervals, but even so, they didn't seem to lose track of me. Was I bugged? Were they tracking me? Or were they that goddamn determined? Regardless, I kept up the pursuit. Eventually I'd lose them. Then, it hit me. A sharp pain shot through my nervous system as an unidentified projectile impacted my side. It couldn't have been shot by my pursuers. Someone else shot it from another location.
Even though I had been shot, I still attempted to keep moving. That was becoming an impossibility. I was losing too much blood. I slowed down as my muscles began to shut down. My vision blurred as blood flow slowed. I fell to the ground face first. I lay there for what seemed like days before a boot was slid under my body, which was then flipped over. I lay on my back and looked at my attackers. They wore trench coats and military fatigues beneath them. Their faces were obscured by masks. Who were they? I don't think I will ever if-
"Cybernet memory core playback cycle completed," said a disembodied feminine voice through the speakers of the terminal. Nearby, a machine withdrew a probe from the memory core of a recently murdered cybernet. Cybernet memory cores were modeled after the human brain and had similar capabilities, though one excelled at something the other didn't. The human brain could think more abstractly than the cybernet memory core, while the cybernet memory core can run through complex calculations more quickly than the human brain. However, the cybernet memory core also had one other capability: it could store information in a such a way that it could be played back later. This proved to come in handy in crime solving. If a cybernet were there, they could be probed for information. However, in this case, the playback made more holes in the story.
Staff Sergeant Cole Harvenson sighed in frustration. He had hoped that this would be the evidence he needed to put this case to rest, but it wasn't the case. He stood up from the slightly uncomfortable terminal chairs and walked over to a coffee machine. He stared at it for a moment before deciding otherwise and returned to the terminal. After punching a few keys, a data chip was ejected from a slot near the screen. He took the data chip and put it into a protective sleeve before walking out of the room and into a cramped metal hallway.
I swear, ONI getting more and more paranoid with every colony they are put in control of he thought to himself as he walked passed the numerous other facilities that linked to Subsection Corridor A, and the Ring isn't any better.
The Ring and Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) were the two most important agencies in the Alliance of Colonized Worlds (ACW) and the Global Defense Array (GDA). If there was one thing Cole had come to dislike, it's the amount of acronyms used in the military, and ONI, ACW, and GDA were only a handful. "Too much military jargon is used these days," he once said. Still, he found the titles to be nicer and more bearable than the actual agencies themselves. ONI was hopelessly paranoid about everything, instating ridiculous codes that were almost impossible to follow in an effort to "maintain morale and a sense of order." Bullshit as far as Cole was concerned. The Ring, on the other hand, was almost sinister in the way they handled most everything. They didn't care about the cost, only the results. In some situations, this ideology would come in handy, but in every situation? Not so much.
Cole shook these thoughts off as he entered the building's lobby. It was a bit of a shock to see the demeanor of the decor change so suddenly. Where Cole had just been, the walls were made of nearly two feet of lead-steel alloy and was pretty much void of any decoration. It was all business. The lobby was a lot different. It was smartly decorated with a multitude of neatly trimmed plants, bistre leather furniture, rare paintings, mahogany carpet, and walls painted maroon. Add to that the oak desk that the receptionist sat at and you wouldn't have known it was a military installation. Cole gave the receptionist a respectful nod before walking through the mahogany doors - and into another steel box.
Cole's heavy footsteps echoed off the dense walls as he made his way from corridor to corridor. Along the way, he stopped at least ten times for the overly paranoid security clearance stations to confirm that he was indeed Staff Sergeant Cole Harvenson. Finally, he stood in front of the door that led into what had become known as "The Lair..." essentially, a place where the officers that composed the Ring met, schemed, and condemned those who were unlucky enough to walk in uninvited. Luckily for Cole, he was authorized to enter hell's underbelly. The only thing separating him from verbal abuse from men well into their late 70's was hydraulics operated slab of steel. He punched in the security codes, and moments later, he heard the sounds of hydraulics hissing to life as they hefted the steel door. Cole took another deep breath and entered the room.
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