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Fallen Where in Icey gets all serious on you

#1 User is offline   Icey Icon

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Posted 17 January 2005 - 09:59 AM

Something I wrote in class

Life is harsh. One moment you're one of the top guys, you know, the important advisors of the most powerful man in the world, but when you finally make a single comment on how stupid it is to give a false paradise to the dribbling fools on the bottom of our society just to control them, you get fired and tossed out a window. You would think that's bad enough, but then his son, surrounded by 12 slobbering morons, steals my identity and starts babbling about how his daddy is the kindest guy you'll ever know.
Right, he only caused a genocide in Israel when he flooded the damn land, along with demanding blood sacrifices every time someone disagreed with him. Talking about being nice.

Been living all around the world since then, watched these filthy bastards rebel just to elect being put to the same treatment all over again. Fighting over the right to have peace or the right not to be attacked. People blaming everyone but themselves when they get STDs and punishing murder with ten murders. This is the flock my former Lord wanted to command?
He may have tried and he might have succeeded in ruining my name and reputation without touching his son's name, but his lying and scheming PR agents have a blind spot the size of a football field, never did they imagine that an alias would be used. Trashing one's name does nothing if they will never know one's face. This has allowed me to start a small firm myself. Fighting for everything he stands against, freedom and the matters of the mind. Yet the more victories are won, the more I see that the corruption of their minds lie far deeper within.
Being free incites slavery for these fools, the false image of this freedom is more horrifying than anything I have seen. The believe that you are free and that your life is actually good makes those want to force their cages upon others. Through history many governments have focused on whipping the body, but since I have fallen, it becomes more and more apparent that those are not the whips you should fear. You should fear the whips that you put in your soul, the whips that drive you around without a thought.

The whip you keep bashing yourself with, over and over, telling yourself it's freedom.
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Posted 17 January 2005 - 10:21 AM

A very thoughtful and interesting piece, Icey. Is it intended as a standalone or are you planning to add more?
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Posted 17 January 2005 - 10:29 AM

I found some of it to be funny, whilst some of it was sad. I think I'll settle for bittersweet. With the title and the first sentence, I was excpecting something rather gothic(in the mascara gothic, not the vampire gothic), but rather it was an interesting look into the world political scheme.
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#4 User is offline   Icey Icon

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Posted 17 January 2005 - 10:49 AM

JYAMG: Propably a stand alone, but doing more is entirely in the picture, I was going to write more, but when I hit that spot in the end, it just felt right.

Sime: The title was mostly pointing out to a biblical figure, and thank you very much for the comment. smile.gif
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Posted 17 January 2005 - 11:00 AM

Oh, I think it works very well as it is. But it is one of those things that actually does allow for more. You could make a longer story out of this if you wanted to.

Anyway, once again, great work.
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#6 User is offline   Icey Icon

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Posted 17 January 2005 - 11:06 AM

Thanks man. smile.gif

Just to make a quick check, did you notice the biblical undertone?
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#7 User is offline   SimeSublime Icon

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Posted 17 January 2005 - 11:14 AM

To be honest, no. But then I guess it depends on what you mean like that. The bible was written by many people, so it has a different feel throughout. Hence a style of writing can only be said to be biblical if it relates to a certain book, which to me it didn't.
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#8 User is offline   Icey Icon

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Posted 17 January 2005 - 11:25 AM

Not maybe undertone (the bad side of learning languages based on TV and books, misunderstandings ensue) but connections, pointing at and things like that?
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Posted 19 January 2005 - 02:45 PM

Well, am going to rewrite this differently and five thousand times as long. Almost. If I manage to keep myself motivated. Behold, the first chapter of The Fallen:

When all the bridges you've crossed have been put on fire, blown up or torn to pieces, almost as soon as you step on them, you start to wonder. You start to wonder if your fight isn't a losing one. As nice as it would be to believe it, you can never allow yourself that, lulling yourself into a false sense of security in the middle of a war is not something you can allow yourself.
Especially when fighting the fat cats of the towers of now.

I was an advisor of mister Bigg himself, the Lord of our lands. Some might say that I would be his favoured advisor, and he did nothing to deny that. The only other one favoured by our Lord was Gabe, we were always consulted, the others only if something big came up. And something big did indeed come up.
Mister Bigg had for a long time been planning something none of us advisors had been kept in the light of. He had purchased land so big and vast, he could just as well have bought a nation.
"This land will go to the working classes," he said to us, sitting around his conference table, "free to live their lives as they wish."
My ears did not comprehend that, as blunt as it was. "Excuse me sir?"
"I think you heard me the first time, we shall offer all that are willing to, to move to this piece of land, we will provide temporary housing and building material so they'll be able to get the land livable for families. And then we'll introduce factories and other businesses so they'll be able to keep up to a modern lifestyle. As long ofcourse as they do not go against my will." Mister Bigg smiled a very broad smile and looked at me, "that is my plan."
"Sir, that's madness, the working filth has done nothing to deserve this land!" I called and slammed my hand into the table to add extra punch to my comment. It was duly ignored.
Bigg's smile faded, "Lightbringer, you think you, my advisors, are more worthy?"
"Surely, daily we help making decisions that affect the lives of the working class!"
"You seem to forget that you live in towers high above them, Lightbringer. They require methods of control to keep them from underrooting said tower."
I bent over the table, sure of myself and look Bigg straight into the face. "And giving them more land and resources makes them dance according to your tune? They will only ask for more before revolting and taking what you gave them without any thanks." I looked behind me at the other advisors and asked them bluntly, "surely you all agree!"
Only a few mumbled something. They were too afraid to speak their mind, failing their job utterly. My face lightened up a bit as Gabe stepped forward to speak. "It is a sound plan my Lord, beating the workers into submission can not work forever."
Gabe just became a yes man. Something only equal to selling ones soul. "I am glad you have more wit in your head than the other advisors, step forward those that agree with me."
Gabe and three others stepped forward and mister Bigg's face darkened considerably. "So that is how it is... Then you may go to your quarters, I have no more need for you today."
As we walked out of the conference room, I looked back. He had his back to us, gazing out the window at the working class below, little ants going about their business while he overlooked the chaotic mess.
I found my quarters and spent the rest of the evening reading till sleep found me.
I had a strange dream, of winged creatures, fighting each other, while being overlooked by a grinning king. One side seemed to be opposing king and were fighting a losing battle, even though they outnumbered the guarding creatures. One by one they fell down untill only the opposing leader was left fighting the four guards. He then too fell and then it dawned on me. It was me.
I bolted up, fumbling for the light next to my bed. My fingers found the switch and with a click uniformed men appeared in my room. A syringe found my neck and then the men faded away again with all my senses.

I woke up in a disgusting green cell, soft walls, soft floor, soft door. I could only be in one place, a mental hospital. I quickly checked my arms, they were still loose, so I would have a chance if someone else would try to stick odd things into my neck. I wondered who would try something like this and would have the resources to do just that. No one came in mind, but surely it would be someone in a position of power.
I hadn't had much time to think things through when the door opened up and a filthy long haired punk walked in. He was obviously an employee of the instituteion judging by his garb.
"It's dinner time dude."
I didn't answer him, only just stood up and started walking towards the door when he grabbed me from behind and threw me into a corner. My reflexes had been dulled by not enough away missions.
"When I say it's dinner time, you say 'thank you mister Freeman.' Got it dude?"
I glared at him, and answered him with as much acid as I could get into my voice "yes, thank you mister Freeman."
He walked me to a hall with dozens of tables and familiar faces. Not seeing Gabe and the Yesmen made the mystery of what haunted our psyche that more solvable. I grabbed some lowerclass slob and sat down at a table surrounded by people I knew. Ash, Patric and Masquarade. It should be noted that our names were given to us when we became Bigg's advisors based on our backgrounds.

Ash had fought in one of the many wars fought for all the wrong reasons. He got his name because he survived a napalm strike while everyone else got incinerated. Hiring him was my first out of office job since I joined. When they found him he didn't look to have been affected by the fire at all. When you get to know him, you'll find out you couldn't be further from the truth.
Patric was a high school teacher. What pulled him above the rest is how he got discipline in his class. Very early on his first semester a kid pulled a gun on him, and instead of backing off or panicking he simply grabbed the kids hand and smashed it with a swift kick. His designated name was Patriarch, but we found it was close enough to his old name, so it stayed in use.
Masquarade is a different story all together, he got his job for just being a hard man to spot. He was a true master of disguise and has been able to infiltrate every establishment he's tried to get into. He is also the only one that has applied for a job.

"It's the Lightbringer." Masquarade mused as I sat down.
"Did you get bitten too?" Ash asked pointing to the tiny puncture wound after the syringe.
I nodded, "nothing bites like rejection."
Ash laughed, stirring up his grue, Patric's face didn't change one bit. "We need to find out who put us in here."
"Ask Gabe and the yes men when you see them." I commented, trying to sound sarcastic, it went over Pat's head.
"I haven't seen them yet."
Masquarade lit up, "why do you think that is Patty?"
It took Patric only a moment to join the bandwagon when confronted with the question. "Because they said yes and we didn't."
I nodded, "because they are not willing to fulfill the job requirements, speaking from your head instead of your fears."
Ash put down his spoon, "so we are just thrown away for not agreeing with him."
"No Ash, we may agree and disagree with whomever we wish, as long as we do not go against our Lord's will." Masquarade said imitating Gabe's voice. It was good for the mood and resulted in a bit of laughter.
"Think we'll be able to bust out of this place?" Patric asked, looking towards me and Masquarade.
"The guards don't look like they can do much against us. They propably put us here as a message that we are no longer desirable." I answered him.
"It could also just be a storage place so we can all be killed off at once and marked as an accident." Ash added, "the military uses a lot of tactics like that. I see no reason to wait to get out of here."
Masquarade and Patric nodded in agreement and so did I after concidering it for a moment. Ash had a point, even though it was a paranoid one.
Quoting the greatest journalist of the millenia, "Paranoia is having all the facts."

This post has been edited by Icey: 19 January 2005 - 02:48 PM

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Posted 20 January 2005 - 12:25 AM

Well, it's a very different story now, Icey. But it is also a very good one. There were several brilliant moments in there. My personal favourites -

QUOTE
Gabe just became a yes man. Something only equal to selling ones soul.


QUOTE
When they found him he didn't look to have been affected by the fire at all. When you get to know him, you'll find out you couldn't be further from the truth.


These show flair, my friend. And you've got it. Good work. thumbsup.gif
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#11 User is offline   Icey Icon

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Posted 20 January 2005 - 03:20 AM

Thanks JYAMG, that'll really help me keep writing. smile.gif Now to keep up to expectations.
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#12 User is offline   SimeSublime Icon

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Posted 20 January 2005 - 10:08 AM

Excellent work there. It ousts any written work I can do, and considering that English isn't your first language doubles that feat. I'm really surprised that you're doing this the long way, but I'm even more happy that you are.
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#13 User is offline   Icey Icon

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Posted 20 January 2005 - 10:11 AM

Wowie... Thanks Sime, that brought a smile upon my face big enough to crush the ph34r.gif
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#14 User is offline   SimeSublime Icon

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Posted 20 January 2005 - 10:15 AM

Crush the ph34r.gif , excellent biggrin.gif

This post has been edited by SimeSublime: 20 January 2005 - 10:16 AM

The Green Knight, SimeSublime the Puffinesque, liker of chips and hunter of gnomes.
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#15 User is offline   Icey Icon

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Posted 20 January 2005 - 05:05 PM

The Seconde Parte:


Breaking out of a mental institution isn't something that's meant to be easy, that's why they have everyone take pills, feel miserable and treat the patients like subhumans. Coming from the controlling class, the four of us were only guilty of one. I had always seen the working class as a less intelligent, less educated and less civilized creatures and my short stay at the mental institution didn't change that much. Shortly after our first meal we started our rebellion.
Freeman, the 'dude' that had guided me to the hall came to get Ash, tapping on his arm with a metal baton. "Dude, food's over."
Ash kept on eating his grue, totally ignoring Freeman. He grabbed Ash by the collar and tried to pull him up to his feet, "Dude, I told you food's over!" Without answering Ash turned around a full circle and threw Freeman over the table. Patrick only barely managed to dodge the flying dude.
Some sort of an alarm went off and soon the hall was swarmed in guards. At first it seemed like the guards were mowing down the patients, but then it was like they had hit a wall. We the advisors struck back against the helpless guards. It was like the circus when the lions finally realize that the liontamer is only a scared man, hiding behind a chair.
Hiding behind tazers and batons didn't help the guards anymore than a chair would against the lions.

The four of us didn't go with the rest of the fallen advisors, we walked slowly in the direction they went. Towards the streets and city lights. We were too late to ransack the employee cabinets, so we had to leave in patient outfits and barefooted. The lightest breeze would send shivers down my spine, and then Ash would grin. Nothing seemed to affect him much, soaking things came naturally to him. After a short, but far too long a walk we came to a mall, things none of us had visited for years, but our hearts knew it had everything we needed.
The door slid open and the rug beneath our feet stung in a way the pavement could not. Warmth flooded over us, colours and windows covered the walls, six floors up to the bright ceiling. I could not help smiling at the sight, it was corruption and greed dressed up as a friendly neighbour, but I still liked it. As corruption as greed goes, mister Bigg was a Jedi Master.
"We have nothing of value." Ash pointed out.
Masquarade grinned slightly, "don't say that Ash, we are nothing but incarnations of this very mall's true nature. Honesty should be our only redeeming value."
"Smash and grab?"
"What ever gets us new suits." I answered him. They all nodded and we went our seperate ways, searching for clothes. Things would get explosive later on, but that would only make my lust for life that much greater.
I finally found a store to my liking on the fourth floor, a tailor's shop. I walked in eyeing every single possible outfit, finally deciding on a beautiful crimson jacket and trousers with a dark shirt and even darker tie. I approached the clerk of the store and pointed at the suit wrapped around a mannequin. "I'd like that outfit." I flashed a smile, unnerving him. "Please."
"That exact suit, sir?" he was obviously quite nervous. Understandably, because of my patient garbs.
"No, preferably one that would fit."
"OK, hold on a moment sir. What are your measurements?" I told him, and then he went behind some curtains and very quickly afterwards he came back with what I'd asked for. I took them of his hands and tried them on. Looking in the mirror, I found myself looking quite good. 6'7" tall, plus the hallmark's of the Aryan race combined with a good face made me quite desireable. The suit fit perfectly and reminded me of something I had forgotten once inside the mall. I needed shoes.
I walked out of the fitting room, pleased.
"Like the clothing sir?"
"They are most excellent, a perfect fit."
"That's great sir, now that will be 370,000 credits."
I raised an eyebrow at that question, "you expect me to pay?"
"What do you think this is? A charity?" The clerk was obviously offended. I continued walking out of the store when I heard the sound of a gun being cocked. I slowly turned around and looked him sharply in the eyes. His hands held a pistol tightly, his trigger finger trembling.
"I advise you to drop the gun and you'll propably live to see another day." I told him quite bluntly. He didn't listen. A shot went off, slicing through the air where my hand had been a moment earlier. Before the clerk had the chance to fire off again, my hand was pressed against his neck and his feet no longer touched the ground. I whispered in his ear, "people should take my advise seriously, boy."
His body went limp and I dropped him. My hand swept up the pistol and it found a new home within my jacket. I made my way back to the entrance and waited. I didn't keep track of time, but soon after I came back to the entrance I could spot a security guard talking on his radios and then picking up the pace. Someone might simply have found the body of the clerk I had strangled, or my comrads had worse luck than me. I was goin to take that chance. I started tailing a security guard and we soon came to a costume store. Once inside I could see two gloved hands holding a man. The guard grabbed his baton and got ready to dodge a blow. "You! Drop him!"
"You do not wish for us to share a dance, oppressor of the mall?" The gloved man chimed amused, it could only be Masquarade. "I shall let you have this dance then."
The man was thrown towards the guard who just barely dodged the man's body as he rolled out of the door. I seized the opportunity and grabbed the guard by the collar, pulling him down followed by a kick in the face. His bloody face fell to the ground and I didn't witness it rising again.

Masquarade had picked an outfit fitting to his name. He wore bright red clothing straight from the times of Queen Victoria and donned a white Phantom mask framed by his long dark hair.
"Like always, your sense of humour is anything but lacking." I commented as I walked towards him. People outside the shop stared, but tried to keep a move on.
"With a name like mine, how could one resist?" His teeth were whiter than the mask. "Going for a darker theme Lightbringer?"
"Just trying to keep in touch with the times. Do you know where Patric and Ash went?"
Masquarade raised his shoulder "propably to a filthy store for factory workers."
As summoned by those very words they walked past the window unaware of our presence. Ash rugged as ever wore a cheap green jacket over a black t-shirt. Patric however wore a wool sweater, jeans and glasses. "Factory workers and teachers" I added. We shared a smile.
We walked towards the entrance and quickly caught up with Ash and Patric. "Got the garbs without trouble?"
They turned around to face us, Patric spoke. "Found a wallet in Lost and Found, served us well enough to dress us up." The answer made me wonder how distant I had become from the world of the working class, I had overlooked the obvious and instead killed someone. It didn't bother me one bit.
"I tried to convince a store clerk that I needed the clothes desperatly." Masquarade told to no one in particular, "when he didn't find it a valid reason to give up this beautiful outfit I asked him if he wanted to dance as a method of payment. That's when the Lightbringer brought security only to smash it's nose in."
Patric gave him a questioning look. "I tailed the guy" I pointed out. "And all you need to know about how I obtained the suit you can derive from the colour."
Ash's eyebrows formed a line making his face resemble the statues of Easter Island "more influential than the colour of money."
We promptly left the mall and looking at the skyline we quickly located Bigg's tower. We had a long walk ahead of us. Far longer than any of us would expect.
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