EXCELSIOR (IN progress naturally)

here it goes. I posted this on SPP but the bastards there ignored it. here you go. C&C this please.

EXCELSIOR













































CHAPTER 1
<SEEDS OF WAR>

General Marcus B. Grubbs hastily jogged up the stairs of the giant UCN structure in New York, the building much taller than any other nearby. The building was almost entirely glass, the sun projecting a magnificent image on the tiles. Marcus got to the top of the stairs, and while adjusting his sleeve, he snuck a glance at the marines posted outside the building. The only thing showing out of their faces was their eyes, which were blandly pointed forward.
Their heads were covered with helmets and their mouths and noses covered with gasmasks. They had, among other things, tear-gas grenades on their belts just in case anybody tried to breach Nova, which was generally impossible. Marcus finished his wrist and faced the door in front of him. With one arm, he gently pushed it open while slipping inside.
Inside, there was a large reception, a ring of tables in the middle, diplomats on the outside, and Nova staff on the inside. Marcus let the door go as he buttoned the remaining buttons on his jacket, but didn’t hear it close. He didn’t turn to see what happened, as the door’s hydraulics quietly closed the door. He didn’t check though, to see if someone had come in behind him.

Frank walked around the old man in front of him and made his way to the far side of the entrance, towards the pavilion. He hefted his duffel bag closer to his chest as guards patrolled nearby, their M-29s ready to blow him to pieces. But as long as they saw him come in with the General, he was safe from any inspection. But he knew his target, and as long as he knew who he was after, he didn’t have any worries. Inside his apparently harmless duffel bag, Frank had an AK-47 and several charges of C-4 which he would use to bring down Nova. His ear piece sizzled with static as a voice spoke to him.
“Frank, are you in yet?”
“Yeah,” replied Frank, checking his watch. It was 10:47, thirteen minutes from the time he would reveal himself. “How about team two? Did they make it?”
There was silence over the radio as the operator took a breath. “No, they got stopped before getting in.”
“Did they get the bombs?”
“Yes.”
Frank paused. He knew that if the guards had found the explosives, the three men in team two were dead. “How about team one?”
“They said that they’re ready.”
“Good.”
“Teams three, four, and six are outside. Team five should be in position just about now.”
“Good,” repeated Frank, as he glanced at the pavilion in front of him. The four men spread around the small park exchanged nods, and one of them snapped a determined look at Frank. They all had duffel bags too, except for one of them, who had a backpack. Still, they all either had AK-47s or M-16s. An unusually cold breeze blew against Frank, and he closed his eyes, remembering a time when people didn’t use terrorism to achieve freedom and liberty. He remembered a time when all was just and fair, but then he remembered when the UCN took over. He joined the Resistance to fight off the real terrorists, but was accused of being one by doing so.
“Check your timers, its 10:52. The wire-cutter team is in position. Power shortage in eight, prepare equipment.”
“Message received.” Replied Frank, approaching a bench and sitting down, “is there anybody else out on the team COM?”
“Yes sir,” was one of the static-laden responses, among others. “This is Jonathan Shepard from team five.”
“Gordon Foster here on behalf of team three, ready for engagement.”
“This is Dominic Mendez, leader of team six.”
Frank breathed uneasily. He knew that probably everybody would die on this wild operation. But if it hurt the UCN, it helped the Rebellion, and as far as war went, that was a good thing.
“It is 10:55. Be advised that in five minutes we will begin. Good luck and God bless you all.”

Marcus lazily tapped the “UP” button on the elevator, and saw one laden with passengers come down one of the many pipes around the inside of Nova. It came down with a muffled hiss, and the doors slid open. A minute passed as the passengers got out, leaving the car empty. Marcus stepped into the claustrophobic pod and palmed the button with the number 76 on it. He turned back to face the doors close, and saw a man sitting on a bench on the far side of the room, looking back at him. He had a black duffel bag that was laid carefully next to its owner, zipped tightly. Out of courtesy, Marcus gave him a sharp nod, which the red-haired man didn’t return. The man did, though, keep staring hatefully at Marcus until the pair of doors closed.

Frank watched as the elevator glided upwards, and was soon too high to be accurately seen. Frank stared blankly as the rich diplomat inside floated to his next million-making meeting, which he would spend basking in money, while the average citizen like Frank rotted below. Frank felt a surge of anger as he thought about it. Those were the people that made him the way he was now. Those were the people that killed both his brothers, and those were the people who were mere minutes from death.
“10:57.”

Marcus didn’t understand why the man that he had met below was so cold to him. It was the third time it had happened today, starting with the large group of men with similar duffel bags to the three other men inside the car entering the garage right before he went inside to the man in the waiting hall with the same duffel bag. He glanced out of the elevator and could barely see the man stand up, and followed by several others, began to do something with the duffel bags. Then it hit him. They were about to attack. Marcus panicked as he looked around the elevator, searching for an exit. But half of him knew that he was doomed. He couldn’t do anything to stop them. But that was the way war went. Diplomats sent out soldiers to kill other soldiers when the situation fell out of hand. And now was one of those times. He checked his watch quickly.
10:59. he searched for something he could do to make noise, when he spotted the emergency fire button. He debated whether to press it or not. Was it just a coincidence that so many people were below him with what could possibly be weapons? He struggled with the idea, but then one side of him won over the other side. He pressed the red button, but didn’t hear anything. He pressed it again, nothing. He once again searched the elevator, but didn’t find anything. Then he checked his watch.
11:00 AM.

The numbers 11:00 popped up on Frank’s watch as the lights blinked off. The people in the reception stopped and looked around, puzzled. Little did they know that a massive blow was about to be dealt to the very people they worked for. He stood up casually, and hefted his bag. He unzipped it and pulled out his AK-47. He threw the bag away, and faced his six victims. They looked at him in terror and fear, and for a minute, Frank felt sad. He didn’t want to kill these people. But his mission demanded for it. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. He heard the rapid staccato of gunfire as his rifle rocked back and forth with the force of each shot. He also heard screaming and terrified yelps, but he zoned them out. He eased his finger off the trigger, and opened his eyes. All six of them were dead.

Marcus panicked once more as he looked around the elevator, searching for an exit. He was half-way between two floors, and the door above him was splitting open. There were three soldiers, two holding the doors open, and one holding out his arm. Marcus was unsure that he would take it. Those very soldiers place their lives into his hands, but he wasn’t willing to do the same. Marcus gathered his wits about him and took the soldier’s hand.

Frank checked the reception once more as the four men on the pavilion rushed in with Kevlar vests and assault rifles. The guards inside the building quickly fell under the rain of bullets directed at them. The eight guards in the entrance spun around and opened fire upon the reception with their M-29s. Two civilians and one Rebel fell to the ground as semi-explosive armor-piercing bullets sprayed across the room. Frank lunged behind the reception table and took cover. He saw three more men come towards him, and recognized their features. They took cover beside him, and exchanged shots with the guards hiding behind the pillars at the entrance. Jonathan Shepard began shouting at Frank, but Frank could hear him.
“Frank! Get the bombs! Get the bombs!”
“What?”
“Get the bombs!”
Frank spun around and saw his duffel bag on the floor, the charges messily piled onto the ground. “Cover me!” shouted Frank, sprinting for his bag.
Two guards saw him run by, but as they poked their heads out to take a shot, one of them gripped his neck and flew back while the other took cover again. The guard who got shot in the neck thrashed wildly on the floor before succumbing to the pain and laying limp on the floor, Jonathan cheering as he stood up and fired an extended burst at the pillars to cover Frank, who had the strap on his duffel around his wrist. Frank pulled the bag up, but the remaining charges fell out. He crouched, and hastily gathered as many charges as he could carry. But as he reached for his bag, dust and sparks began to fly out of the duffel and the floor as one of the guards began shooting at him. In panic, Frank stood up and ran back to the table, before tripping and spilling the charges behind the reception.
“Great job Frank,” announced Jonathan, as he primed and activated a charge. “Suck on this you communists!” He screamed, throwing a charge at the guards. It fell between the pillars and exploded. All six of the pillars were engulfed in fire and collapsed, exposing an empty entrance. “That should hold them off for a while, now, Frank, get to the elevator with Jim and try to see if you can call one up. I’ll hold them off.
“Okay.”
Frank stepped up and began running to the elevator alongside Jim, who was wearing a ski mask and was armed with an M-16. They reached the elevator, and pressed the “UP” button on the steel console. The elevator casually came down, and opened with a friendly chime. Jim turned around and waved Jonathan forward, as Frank stepped inside and fixed charges onto the sides. After he was finished, he turned to Jonathan, and waved him forward too. Jonathan rushed forward, as fresh guards ran in through the entrance and began firing at him. He jumped inside the elevator, which was made of reinforces glass that could withstand the bullets that the guards were firing at it. The glass, however, wasn’t designed to withstand explosive rounds and would soon shatter if the last man didn’t get on it before it did. The last man stood up to make a run for it, but was knocked over by a sniper’s bullet. Blood began pooling out of his broken head as Jonathan hastily tapped one of the buttons on the console. 76.

Lieutenant Patton reloaded his weapon as he carefully walked up the blood-soaked steps of Nova. The staccato of gunfire had almost ceased, when a second group of insurgents rushed the building from the back. A group of sixteen, they gunned down the three guards inside that chased after the elevator before taking cover. Patton’s group of twelve charged up the stairs as Fiore’s Fireteam would go around the back and flank the terrorists inside Nova. Patton rushed up the stairs, ahead of his men, and threw a grenade at the insurgents.
An explosion tore through the reception as two of the terrorists simply exploded out of existence, their melted rifles and burnt scraps of clothing all that was left of them. Four of Patton’s AI followed him, firing in short bursts at the exposed delinquents, felling two more. One of them received a bullet in the thigh, but shrugged it off and kept running.
The AI, (Advanced Infantry) were the soldiers above the BI, (Basic Infantry) but were not as advanced as the super-secret Templars, which was considered a religious cult to some. The AI, however, were equipped with “Enforcer” armor, which made them considerable opponents. The AI was only used in extreme hot-spots, not in large numbers for larger operations. The AI was more improved at stealth, but excelled in sustaining firefights with entrenched enemies, having received extensive long-range training.
The AI was perfect for Patton’s operation. They had excellent aim, were strong and fast, and were generally smart. Patton slid onto his back behind the reception table, his M-29 drawn tightly to his chest. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, however, which made him a prime target to snipers. Another explosion threw dirt and marble into the sky, landing harmlessly on the ground. Patton peeked out of the table and saw the other insurgents by the elevator, hiding behind the pillars and wreckage that lay strewn on the floor. Patton lifted his rifle and squeezed the trigger. One of the Rebels collapsed face-first into the floor, holding the base of his neck. Patton saw the elevator come down behind the Rebels, and they loaded onto it. Patton swore as he fired at the five-inch thick glass, knowing that his bullets wouldn’t do anything. Patton knew that he wasn’t going to catch up with them, until he heard a message on his COM.
“This is fire team Bravo, on the roof.”
Patton cheered silently, as he knew that the other team would probably be able to box in the terrorists and take them out. “Do you know which floor they’re going to?”
“Uh, I think they’re on 75. Oh wait, scratch that. They’ve stopped at floor 76. We’re going in.”

Marcus sat shaking under Ambassador Dull’s table as the Ambassador himself sat next to him, talking angrily into his cell phone. The two guards that were standing guard were positioned by the door, rifles ready. Marcus checked his watch. 11:18. it had been nearly twenty minutes since the panic had started. Marcus and the entire room fell silent as the elevator chimed happily across the hall.
The Ambassador’s office branched off the hall, thirty meters from the elevator. One of the guards walked out to check if anybody was there, when the other one received a message on his earpiece. The guard exchanged words with the person on the other side before shutting off the COM. The other guard looked at him, puzzled. “Who was that?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Really?” replied the other one, turning away from the guard and facing the elevator. “It sounded like something to me.”
“I guess you’re right,” responded the guard, facing away from his comrade. Suddenly, he lashed out with the butt of his rifle and smashed the face of his partner, knocking him to the ground.
“What the hell was that for?” shouted the injured guard, his mask across the hall and blood coming out of his nose.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing personal.”
“What are you talking about?”
The guard removed his pistol from the holder and aimed at his wounded partner. “It’s called fighting for a better cause.”

A lone gunshot startled Frank as Jim and Jonathan combed the hallway with their rifles. One side of the hall was composed of glass, and overlooked the reception, which was alive with commotion. The other side was composed of small offices and rooms, which were filled with panicked civilians and diplomats.
“So many infidels,” spat Jim, “It makes me sick.”
“Stay on your toes men, they could come from anywhere.”
Frank nodded at Jonathan and flexed his arms in anticipation. They could attack from any square inch of space, and Frank was going to be ready for them.
The hallway went two directions. One was along the edge beside the offices, and the other was to the left, away from the glass and into the lounge. Jonathan flashed a finger to the left and Frank followed. Jim stayed behind, but then followed.

Marcus cried helplessly as the renegade soldier pointed his rifle directly at him. Ambassador dull lay on the ground several feet from Marcus, a pool of dark, arterial blood pooling under his cold body. Marcus shook madly as he looked down the barrel of the renegade’s M-29, knowing that one flick of the rebel marine’s finger could snuff Marcus out of existence. Marcus realized, however, that the soldier was taking longer to kill him than he had to kill Dull. Whether it was Marcus’ old, pathetic face or the soldier’s own nervousness, he couldn’t tell. Instead of a name, the soldier’s helmet read FREEDOM, which would have had caused Marcus to laugh if he didn’t have an M-29 two feet from his face.
The soldier checked his back, looked forward, and resumed aiming at Marcus. The soldier stood for a few more minutes, before swearing and pulling the trigger. A wave of darkness washed over Marcus as the impact of the rifle knocked him onto his back. Marcus felt unable to see out of his right eye, which he figured was where he got shot from. He felt the heat of blood pooling around his head, and then blacked out.

Lieutenant Patton and his group of six stood silently as the elevator began slowing down. The doors opened, and thee squad spread out in a half-circle formation, covering the hallway with their rifles. The hallway was empty, except for the bullet holes sprayed messily in the wall. He waved them forward and the entire group moved silently through the hallway. He stopped and signaled for two of his men to move forward.
Being seventy-six floors up in the air had its advantages. The sirens and commotion was barely audible through the thick double-A glass, which made Patton feel calm: he could hear his prey better. The other advantage was that his prey couldn’t escape.

Frank’s breathing sped up as more guards poured out the elevator. There were six in total, and one didn’t have a helmet. Frank was seconds away from pulling the trigger when he realized that the soldier was issuing orders. Frank took cover behind the couch as soon as he discovered that he was up against a squad of AI. Frank stood up and slowly checked the hallway.
The soldiers went down the hallway, not into the staff room, where he and the rest of the survivors were hidden. Other than a broken coffee machine that Jim accidentally knocked over, the lounge was seemingly untouched. Little did the Coalition soldiers know, that Jonathan Shepherd was placing a homing beacon for the cruise missile that was going to be launched from halfway across the globe in three minutes.

Patton paused at one of the offices and stood solemnly at the sight before him. Two senior diplomats covered in blood were sprawled on the ground, two M-29 shells next to their bodies. There was another dead body outside, that of a guard, but he was less important than the diplomats were. Patton instantly smelled treason and spat on the floor. “I can’t believe our own men would betray us.”
“Yeah, makes you sick.”
“From here on out, anybody on this floor who isn’t AI is shot. Do you hear me? I don’t care if it’s the Overseer. If you see a BI or civilian of any kind up here, shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Yes, sir!” snapped the soldiers.
Patton snorted in appreciation of his men, knowing that they would go through with the order. Patton had always trusted his men with his life, and they did the same. He could tell them to enter a mall and kill every single moving thing including each other and they would comply until they were dead or the mall was empty. And Patton had proof of their allegiance.
Two years back, in the Dallas 2087 NGG convention it was rumored that a bomb and four insurgents had entered the building. Three hours later, seventeen civilians were dead and four insurgents were purified. Patton frowned upon the action of burning his enemies, but several of his men in his squad had terrible histories and were more than delighted to see the helpless, begging bodies of the four men burn to ashes. Two hours of the three were composed of watching the fire. The Coalition never really made the process illegal, because it scared the population into cooperation and it made neat little piles of ash that could just be dumped into the ocean. Patton and his men did, however, receive a deduction of CSC worth of 250 for cremating the rebels in front of General Steven Riddle’s son. It was called “disrespecting a superior officer’s child” and “threatening a minor with purification”. The law against threatening and purifying a minor expired when the war started in 2061, but it was always brought out of the closet to protect the children of the rich and of the government.
Patton lavished in his newfound boost of morale, before waving his men forth and cocking his rifle. “Fan out, men. If these cowards don’t give up now, we’ll flush ‘em out.”

Frank lifted his boots out of a pool of coffee and wiped them on the already dirty rug. He had heard everything that the soldiers had just said, and he knew that the disguised BI troopers were screwed. His rifle was hung around his shoulder, his hands busy on a MAC-4 Whistler claymore. He carefully placed the transparent wire from the table to the glass pane, before plucking out the security strap on the claymore and stepped back. Jim turned back at him, puzzled. “What’s that for?”
“Oh,” replied Frank, stepping back and dusting his hands on his pants. “It’s just a little treat for my AI buddies.”

WOW you're gifted. I only read the first quarter of the whole thing yet, so I'll look for cc after I finish reading the whole thing.

thanks for the critism man

I only read the first paragraph since I have a friend over so yeah. But anyway you did a great job describing everything and you used good word choice. Nice job.

can at least ONE person get through the entire thing? damn. well, thanks for the critism so far, and i just saw Valkayre, so expect some MAJOR plot twists. (Johnathan is going to show up. Marcus may not be in as much trouble as he appears.)

Nice, I read the thing. [I can't really find any crits to give]

So there's more coming eh?

I haven't read this yet, but I plan to read the entire thing, and give you a huge amount of C&C if I can.
And because of the comments on this, are you doing this alone, or would you like to do a "collaborative writing" where we both write on this? I would love to.

Edit: I read it now. That was great. Besides how you didn't make it really exciting or suspenseful to read, it was really good. So I stand with my previous request of writing this with you.
And here's some things I picked out of the story that distracted me from reading:

Quote :

It was the third time it had happened today, starting with the large group of men with similar duffel bags to the three other men inside the car entering the garage right before he went inside to the man in the waiting hall with the same duffel bag.

That was a REALLY long sentence with no commas. It was hard to read, so I had to read it 2 or 3 times over.

Quote :

as semi-explosive armor-piercing bullets

Not much, but a comma in between semi-explosive and armor-piercing would have been slightly easier to read.

Quote :

Shepherd was placing a homing beacon for the cruise missile that was going to be launched from halfway across the globe in three minutes.

This would have been an impressive sentence, but you didn't deliver it right. I guess it takes practice to do that though.

Overall, you have huge amounts of talent. With more experiance or practice, you'd be able to touch up on things that you need work on, though. Such as making stories more "action packed." Giving the reader certain emotions besides interest, and creating suspense, or worry, or to make the reader actually think the story isn't going to have a happy ending.
By the way, each time that something bad almost happened, there was the same "sudden last minute rescue" that saves the main character. So I was expecting those whenever something came up. You have tons of potential, though.

Devour wrote:

I haven't read this yet, but I plan to read the entire thing, and give you a huge amount of C&C if I can.
And because of the comments on this, are you doing this alone, or would you like to do a "collaborative writing" where we both write on this? I would love to.

Edit: I read it now. That was great. Besides how you didn't make it really exciting or suspenseful to read, it was really good. So I stand with my previous request of writing this with you.
And here's some things I picked out of the story that distracted me from reading:

Quote :

It was the third time it had happened today, starting with the large group of men with similar duffel bags to the three other men inside the car entering the garage right before he went inside to the man in the waiting hall with the same duffel bag.

That was a REALLY long sentence with no commas. It was hard to read, so I had to read it 2 or 3 times over.

Quote :

as semi-explosive armor-piercing bullets

Not much, but a comma in between semi-explosive and armor-piercing would have been slightly easier to read.

Quote :

Shepherd was placing a homing beacon for the cruise missile that was going to be launched from halfway across the globe in three minutes.

This would have been an impressive sentence, but you didn't deliver it right. I guess it takes practice to do that though.

Overall, you have huge amounts of talent. With more experiance or practice, you'd be able to touch up on things that you need work on, though. Such as making stories more "action packed." Giving the reader certain emotions besides interest, and creating suspense, or worry, or to make the reader actually think the story isn't going to have a happy ending.
By the way, each time that something bad almost happened, there was the same "sudden last minute rescue" that saves the main character. So I was expecting those whenever something came up. You have tons of potential, though.

thank you very much bro. I read and re-read your comments over and over again, and i see your point. I will now definetly kill off some main characters and add a lot more suspense to my story. And to your collab idea, I would be extremely happy if you helped me. But sending me or posting a story of yours wouldn't hurt though. I'll send you a pm full of ideas for the finished (?) novel.

Kay, here's something with action that I've written before. Although I've gotten better since then, I like this one:
http://www.stickpageportal.com/forums/showpost.php?p=1583455&postcount=1

dude, that's amazing. didn't read the entire thing though (since im in kind of a hurry) but it was really good. Go ahead and write a little something about this topic to see how you can fit into the saga. I'm thinking that you could fit in with the New Confederacy, due to the amount of scientific stuff in that story. So just write a short story. It can be less than a page or three. Try writing something like the supreme Confederate (machine) ruler, called Nero (named after the emperor in Ancient Christian times whose letters add up to 666) and his council of machine overlords (all with greek names) about the humans. or you could write a battle or something. You descriptions were very good and i felt i was there in the cell with that guy. If you can't remember any roman/greek names, just look up a generator on google. BUT if you DO a story on Nero, he has to constantly relate to his excellent handler Stephen Crown, before he killed stephen. (again, this is from the bible. Stephen was the first matyr, and it felt cohesive to make him the first person to stop Nero when he breaks out.) maybe later we'll see about what we'll do. Thanks man.

Well that would be cool. You'd be writing about the "good guy" side and I'd be writing about the "bad guy" side. I think.
I'll look into your story a little bit so I can write my short story right.

Devour wrote:

Well that would be cool. You'd be writing about the "good guy" side and I'd be writing about the "bad guy" side. I think.
I'll look into your story a little bit so I can write my short story right.

well, the characters all develop into bad people. Like liuetenant patton is supposed to be a badass, and then he turns into a nice guy a forgets his past, while Todd, the other main character, will go from being an innocent man to comitting suicide after his best friend dies.