sounds good!
whenever a new fanfic comes out my heart skips a beat cus im worried someone will take my ideas

but my story has domkavosh so... im happy

dont give up on the other though

"If im phased and can walk through stuff, then why am I not falling through the floor?"

Can we have the main characters ship something other the a VHF, for example a Rhienland Valkyrie



Inter Arma Enim Silent Legas

Here is the prologue of my new fan fiction.

Codename, I eagerly await your analysis.

-------------

Prologue

SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA...

He awoke to find himself strapped to what appeared to be a surgical table. The room he was in was dimly lit, with a large plexiglass window on one side, but he could not see anyone else in the room, nor on the other side of the glass.

Despite his captivity, he had been treated rather well. His captors had fed him decently and given him doses of the cardamine he needed to sustain life away from the world he called home. He found his jailers' behavior strange, and his suspicions were confirmed when two armed guards came into his cell and injected him with a heavy sedative, rendering him unconscious.

And now here he was, wherever here was, a prisoner of...who, exactly? His captors bore no insignia on their basic uniforms to identify them. The basic questions of survival haunted him. Who were they? Where was he? What would they do to him?

A medical robot entered the dark room and approached him. In the dim light he could see the hypo-injector in the robot's metallic hand, and the contents of the injector didn't look like cardamine. He mentally prepared himself for the worst as the robot pressed the injector against the man's neck and delivered the contents into his bloodstream.

On the other side of the observation window, another figure watched quietly as the serum was administered into the captive. He knew that if all was successful, this man, and many more like him, would suffer an excrutiatingly slow and painful death.

*** Do not interfere in the affairs of Corsairs, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

Cant wait to see it, Neuro! Im not suprised about multiple stories; I am also in the process of writing a Legend of Zelda fanfic, as well as tinkering with a possible sequel to my fanfiction Ragnarok.

Paraniod Schizophrenic: Are you watching us?

EEP, What are you doing, I say, Your starting another one? You better increase production times, bucko.

Yay! Originality!

And as always very well written. Jood gob, neuro.

Nice, but you ARE nuts aren't you?

Check out the new website I'm building! **coughprojectrevolutioncough**

Linky!

Of course he's nuts. I think we all are, actually. You have to be a little nuts for this crowd.

Some more than others *coughcoughchupacoughcough*Ahem...Anyway, 2!!! :O

Hey, Was I just insulted?

Edited by - chupa on 7/13/2005 6:32:00 PM

Looks good to me! No suggestions yet.

And here we go. Chapter 1, for your reading pleasure.


Chapter 1

Curacao, Matt Deckard thought bitterly to himself, was a hell of a place to have your ship stolen.

He sat in the security office filling out his report, and he took extra care to make sure the bastards that were in charge knew exactly how he felt about things. He had just spent some major scratch outfitting his beloved Sabre with brand-new GMG Skyblast cannons. Now both ship and weaponry were now most likely in the hands of some Liberty Rogue joyriding around showing the Sirius Sector what a badass he had become. If I ever find the guy, Deckard thought to himself, I'll tear his nuts off with a crescent wrench.

The worst part about the whole thing, knowing how long it took Orbital Spa and Cruise to do anything, was that until the inevitable insurance hassle was resolved, he would have to replace his Sabre with a lame-ass Barracuda, the only ship the dealer sold on Curacao. The finger to this place.

He finished his report and handed it to the Orbital Spa and Cruise representative, who was the most pleasant part of the whole fiasco. She was very nice-looking, with silvery hair and a gorgeous tan.

"Have a nice day," she called out as he left the room.

Bit late for that, don't you think? he thought to himself as he headed for the ship dealer.

-------------

An hour later, Deckard was in the bar. He had completed his ship purchase and decided he needed a drink to calm him down. Despite all the crap that the Curacao resort had put him through, this place served some of the best drinks in Sirius. He grabbed a Rheinland Lager and sat down. He had no idea what he was going to do next. Here he was, a Sirius Sector frelancer. He could go anywhere, do anything, and he hadn't the foggiest what the hell he was going to do.

Matt Deckard had grown up on Denver in the Colorado system. His father had worked for Cryer Pharmaceuticals, but was killed in an ambush by Liberty Rogues when Deckard was twelve. Saddened and angered by his father's death, he joined the Liberty Police as soon as he was old enough, distingushing himself as a superior pilot and marksman. He left after two years of service, realizing that the Police were paying freelance pilots more money to do their dirty work than they were paying their own people.

Deckard purchased a Startracker light fighter and moved to Manhattan to seek his fortune. He still occasionally flew missions for his old employer, but discovered the money to be made by working freelance for the Bounty Hunter's Guild and the major corporations. He became known throughout New York as a reliable gun-for-hire and as his wealth and fame grew he began to offer his services to the other Houses. With each big payday he upgraded his ship, each time wondering why the hell Liberty didn't build ships like that.

He had, of course, made several enemies along the way. The Liberty Rogues, as expected, placed substantial bounties on his head, and their allies the Outcasts had followed suit, as he was responsible for many disruptions of their smuggling operations. Because of his reputation as a crack pilot, even they thought twice now about taking him out.

Deckard cursed to himself and downed the last of the lager. It was an excellent brew, and Curacao and Rheinland were the only places he could get it. He decided to check the job board just for the hell of it. Dusting some Liberty Rogues was sure to make him feel better.

He scanned the listings. Most of it was the usual: So-and-so has done this, and we want him eliminated. There's a weapons platform out here, go destroy it. Same old crap.

Hello. What's this?

Deckard read the job posting. "Private individual requests reliable freelancer for courier run. If you are that reliable freelancer, click Accept and you will be contacted as to the remaining details of job, where you will be free to accept or decline at that time. Payment upon successful delivery is one million credits."

Whoa, Deckard thought, there's a payday. And no strings attached at this point. How could he lose? He clicked the Accept button and entered his neural net code into the computer. Things were finally starting to look up.


---Liberty Ale: The alcoholic equivalent of Kool-Aid.

Edited by - neuromancer on 7/14/2005 11:48:57 AM

Edited by - neuromancer on 7/14/2005 11:50:20 AM

Wow, awsome start. I cant wait for the next chapter. Keep em comming, Neuro, old buddy, old pal, old friend of mine.

Very nice!

Good character development right off the bat and a captivating first start too.