Yes, its ANOTHER origin story!

Its been a while since I wrote anything, so I thought I would see how much talent I have left… tell me what you think, and what I need to do to improve, if you want.

                            -Prologue:  Birth-

Of all the possible blessings in life, the one comonly received, yet not really appreciated is not being able to remember being born. Waking up because you started suffocating, your food supply has just been cut off, and your only option is to escape through a faint hint of light. Panic overcomes you as you feel forced toward this life, thrust nude into the full view of strangers, embraced by the sudden chill of air, and welcomed with a harsh slap. The minds of a child would never be able to comprehend this natural trauma, which is why healthy children never remember.

Unfortunately, I am not so blessed… I remember my birth. I couldn’t forget it… I was physically twenty-one at the time, and my mind was no mere child’s.

It happened when my eyes opened, for the first time that I recall… and I found myself floating in a yellowish liquid. It wasn’t quite water… it was a little denser. Also, my lower face was attached to some kind of mask, with a length of tubing extracting upwards from the device covering my facial features. But, my immediate surroundings weren’t on my mind for long.

Something in my brain snapped, some trigger was hit saying that this was wrong, that I needed to get out. My arms thrashed wildly, and they quickly pounded against glass… very, very, thick glass. I had no idea how I knew it was glass, but I knew I needed to get out. It didn’t occur to me to look through the glass to the outside world first. Panic never allows for rationalities. But, it does help in other ways.

I couldn’t see or hear anything through the my liquid shell, but I felt the dull pain as my fists kept pounding the thick glass. It was that pain that urged me to continue, the sensation that I was doing something that let me continue trying to break free. The adrenaline in my body was building up, urged on by a desperate mental state, heightened by mankind’s basic animal instincts. Finally, it got too much to bear… in one last act of desperation, I threw my whole body against my glass prison, and managed to force my way through, in a shower of glass and the mysterious water.

My senses becamed confused, quickly overwhelmed by all this information… they chained me to the puddle I was in, as I tried to comprehend what was going on… I was cold, very cold… probably because I was nude, and on a metal floor. Around me, people in white coats were screaming and pointing. I only caught a few of the words… “free”, “not yet”, and “impossible”. I dully moved my head a bit more… I was only beginning to became aware of what was going on, as the strength aiding in my escape flowed out. But I would soon return back to sleep, as more people, these in blue uniforms and wearing badges surrounded me… it was then that one of them pulled out a long, cackling black stick, and applied it on my back.

I never had time to scream out my opinion on the pain that was trying to tear my body apart. The soothing blackness mercifully re-claimed me again, sending me into relaxing oblivion.

This looks good.
Your “persona” has always been one of the interesting ones…I have high hopes for this story.

You keep writin’, and I’ll keep readin’.

Oh, and just for old times sake… stabs PC

Cool! and this reminds me to work on my origin story

Man, I started a trend that just won’t die.

And nice work, Glenton, I can’t wait to see just what you’ve been through to make you so twisted and grotesque. ^^

This chapter is basically an introduction, as the second chapter will be as well… don’t worry, there will be some action in the third.

Anyway, be as cruel or nice as you want…

Except you, GG. turns Crono 4 into swiss cheese. You’re dead


-Chapter One: Awakening-

I am not sure when I finally recovered, or what woke me up, but when I did, it felt as though my body was worked on by an obese construction worker with a jackhammer.   I tried to dull the pain by recollecting my thoughts, and adjusting to my surroundings…

I was locked in what looked like a small, metallic cell…  There were no windows, but there were a few small slits giving me at least some illumination.  Down lower there was a small hatch… pushing against it revealed it opened from the other side.  Probably to feed the unlucky bastard locked in here.  In this case, me.

Behind me was a coarse, spring-revealing cushion hanging from a suspended slab of stone that served as a bed for my tormented form.  I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few other sleepers in there, of the parasitic variety.   Besides that, the only other hint of luxury was an obviously ill maintained, crusted over toilet…  an ironic reminder to just how much shit I may be in.

Slumping down on the bed, I tried to look myself over as best I could… fortunately, I was not naked this time, but clothed in a loose fitting green coveralls, reminiscent of a prison outfit.  I then looked over my hands, and for some reason noticed I was Caucasian, and had a lithe, yet muscularly sound build… why I noticed this, took a while to hit me.

I remembered nothing.

I had no clue who I was, what I looked like besides what I could see for myself.   I felt like I was going to panic again, but this time I managed to take a deep breath, and try to think about my situation some more… fortunately, more clues about myself would be answered with my arriving meal.

Through the hatch in the door came a bowl of some mysterious nourishment… some weird combination of over-cooked brown rice, greasy and slightly wilted onions and peppers, coupled with a rusty cup of water.  Despite the dubious quality of the food, I took the offered spoon and ate.  I needed my strength, and taste be damned.

After eating my meal, I looked at the spoon, using its reflection to get a closer look at myself.  The image was distorted, but I somehow managed to form a mental image that would later prove correct.  For what may have been the first time, I looked at myself.  My black hair was a mess, of course.  To my surprise, however, I instinctively used my fingers to try and fix it.  Seems my body remembered things my mind just can’t get a grip on.  My face was rather squared and a little like a hawk.  The eyes, however, seemed to conflict greatly with the rest of the face… they were beady, and rather cold, looking at them made me feel like I was looking at a very dangerous person.  I told myself to wear sunglasses… those eyes were going to cause problems.

My reverie was interrupted when I heard the door to my cell open.  It was time to get some bloody answers.

Movin’ along nicely… kicks PC in the shins

hmm. sounds interesting

please continue!

Hey, Valk: Does it REALLY matter who started the Origin Story trend? As long as the stories themselves are good… and so far, they are.

PC: Very nice. First, I like that you’re taking a different approach from Val and Omega, in the sense that yours seems to be a Sci-Fi story rather than fantasy- so far. Second, I liked how you described your character’s “birth” experience. That one is always tricky.

I need to see more about the story before I judge it, of course, but so far, I like your approach.

Speaking of Origin stories, I’m seriously considering rewriting mine. I never liked the way the original version of my character turned out, since I developed it as I went along on Val’s Join my Army! story, which started as a joke. I prefer the version I came up with in my RPGC Xmas Story. So, maybe I’ll do THAT one’s origin. We’ll see…

I can’t wait to read more…keep it up!

Looking good, PC, keep on workin’ on it.

And Wil: If you decide to rewrite it, please remove that “You won’t get any tonight” from Lulu and the girls, no offense but it still strikes me as kinda silly now and then when I remember it.

Ok, I am not all the confident about this chapter… dialogue has always been my weak point. Still, I hope you guys like it… but be honest in your opinions…

Oh, and… strangles GG with garrot wire.

-Chapter Two: Visitor-

The door opened widely, revealing what looked like a young, friendly face, wrapped in a typical business suit.  His light-brown hair was neat, but not overdone.  I could tell instantly he was your average management official… with heavy protection, as the door also revealed a security guard leveling his pistol at me, along with two other guards.  No, not guards.  Guards aren’t covered head to toe in ballistic combat armor, and don’t carry HK-47s.  Must be some personal bodyguards, or I was considered a bigger threat then I realized.

Anyway, the businessman, whom I concluded was in charge of this little party, started to smile in a way that was supposed to be friendly, but deep down made me sick.  I decided to do my stomach a favor, and get to the point.  “What am I doing here?”

The businessman coughed, and then straightened his tie, before replying, still wearing that disgusting smile. “I take it I can forego the normal pleasantries.  Anyway, I just want to ask you a few questions.  Surely, you are well enough to do that?”

I didn’t want to appear vulnerable to this guy, so I decided to play along for now… but not without a few conditions of my own.  “Yeah, I am well enough, but I got some questions for you as well.  Who are you, where am I, and why am I locked in this cell?”  I would strangle him for effect, but those guards looked trigger-happy.

It seemed I managed to catch my interviewer off guard with my attitude, and I felt a little surge of pleasure as he started to frown a bit.  “Hmm… seems you are going to be less cooperative then I that.  Anyway, my name is Arnold Phillips, a person of great importance for my organization.  As for what you are doing here, that is confidential…” Damn, this guy was a little slicker then I thought… still, he left some openings.

“I think I have a right to know what the hell is going on to my person, don’t you?”  Confidential my ass… more like convenient excuse.

Phillips friendly demeanor started to melt away, into something more menacing… a neutral expression, but one that demanded you pay attention to what he was going to say next.  “As far as I am concerned, you have no rights here, Mr. … what is your name again?”  

Shit… this was obviously some kind of test.  He obviously knew who I was, or else he wouldn’t waste time talking to me, or even coming down to this hellhole.   I was thinking furiously, but it seemed Phillips got impatient.  “I see… I am done here.”  And, with that, Phillips walked out the door, nodding to the pistol totting guard to lock the door.  

I crept up to the slits in the door, hoping to see something, but I couldn’t see anything through the narrow openings, but they did allow sound to pass through.  I put my ear to my only contact to the outside, to hear what I could.

“… scientists were right.  The mental conditioning has failed.  Terminate him in two days.  The paper work should be cleared by then.  Still keep feeding him, though… we still want to keep our humanitarian face on.”  Then there was laughter, followed by footsteps.	

This dire prophecy of my future made me collapse in shock and despair… I only had two days to live? No, I won’t die! I need to get out! My eyes then fell on the food hatch…

And, I started to smile faintly. All I needed to do now was wait.

And the plot thickens like bad oatmeal. :hahaha;

BTW, it’s spelled “garrote”. stuffs a flashbang in PC’s pocket

stabs GG Only I can hrt and humiliate Glenton. It’s a sister’s right.

And nice work, Glenton, sure has ME curious.

Weiila: That’s one of the things I’m doing away with, don’t worry.

PC: Hmm, this is obviously one competent character, most people would be terrified and confused in his position, but he did things like recognize tactical armor and “read” his opponent. Cool. But, I’m now curious: is he a clone? Or a victim of brainwashing? I guess we’ll soon see.
Please continue the good work.

C’mon Val, I have just as much as a right to abuse PC than you do.
You’re the only person he’s gotten into a fight with more often and me.

(In fact, I might have called him out if you hadn’t first. :hahaha; )

Wil: Yeah, I was worried about what to do with that, but I kinda want to work a certain duality into myself… past and present, if you will…

The next few chapters will be rather action orientated, with little time for reflection, and most character development will be done through conflict. But, if you have any recommendations, let me know.

And Val, I think that “sisterly right” only applies if the brother does the same thing, so… shoves Val into a tank of pirahanas.

As for you, GG… draps a 50-ton ACME safe on GG… using cartoon logic

-Chapter Three: Escape-

I lingered for five hours, the time flying by as I processed different possibilities, and counter measures. I was amazed by how I was able to do this, as I could recall no experience of, well, anything. But, I had no time to ponder this irony. My life was at stake.

When I heard the guard’s footsteps, I positioned myself just in front of the door, my hand lowered, and near the meal hatch. I waited for it to open toward me, and then with my right hand, quickly and sharply thrust it through the now open door. My meal spilled all over the guard, but he didn’t have time to complain about the waste or any stains. He was too busy being strangled by his own tie.

Shortly afterward, I heard a yell from another guard that must have been nearby, demanding that I stop and desist. I obeyed, letting go of the tie, as well as flipping the bird to both of them, as I retracted my hand back into the door, but using the pinky of my other hand to hold the hatch open a mere centimeter. From what I heard among a mixture of grunts and coaxing, it seemed the strangled guard needed some water rather badly, and his “savior” offered to help him reach it. Good… he probably didn’t notice that I fingered the key card he wore around his neck.

I waited until the footsteps were faint, and then opened the hatch the rest of the way, and again slipping my hand through the hatch, only this time with the access card. I struggled in this awkward position for several minutes, relying on sound and touch to know if I was any closer to success. It was probably about seven minutes, but it sure felt like an eternity. Fortunately, this eternity ended with my salvation from my enclosed hell. Too bad the guards returned.

They quickly noticed that one of the cell doors was opened, and that a hand was sticking out of it. But, instead of taking any immediate action, they just yelled freeze. I just moved my hand back with the other parts of my body, and hid behind the door, yelling rather cruelly, “That all you can say? Must have done a better job on your throat then I thought.”

Of course, the morons started shooting; failing to realize that a steel door designed to keep inmates imprisoned would most certainly be bullet proof. I just kept hidden behind the door, until they finally realized just how futile their actions were, and decided to try an up close and personal approach. Probably not the smartest move, considering there was only room for one of them to squeeze between the open cell door and the wall.

The first guard moved in, his gun in front of him, in the usual defensive position. I waited until I could see the entire nozzle of his pistol, and then quickly pulled him in by his own gun. He was caught by surprise, and it was an easy matter to gain control of the gun, and knock the previous owner’s head against the iron door. He wasn’t knocked out, but he was dazed. Dazed enough for me to grab him by the collar, and hold him at gunpoint.

Of course, the second guard made his move, but he wasn’t expecting a hostage. Nor was he expecting that same hostage to be shoved against him. Too bad he decided to shoot at sudden movements… it must be hard to shoot and kill a buddy, especially seeing how close they must have been.

The shocked, saddened, and depressed guard just started at the corpse he created, not paying attention to the escapee that gave him a quick punch to the throat, and then shoved him into the cell with a rude shove, followed by a quick kick to the butt. He did pay attention to the cell door closing in on him.

I checked the magazine of the pistol I liberated from the now dead guard, and only counted three bullets. Damn. This was not going to be easy. But, no time to ponder the odds… it was time to make my exit.

the safe opens and GG hops out

Ooh, me likee. :slight_smile:
Ya done good, d00d. plus a level, and a large weight with the words “HEAVY LOURDE” falls on PC

climbs out of the pirahna tank, a few of the littlt fishy-wishies still biting

I agree, I liked it. pulls Glenton’s hair and throws him into Ballet Class

Why are guards usually soooooo stupid. And this is so cool Glenton!!

Val and GG stop that or else…