Separate names with a comma.
Discussion in 'Books & Comics' started by TheDarknessEnvelops, Jul 18, 2013.
Ah, gotcha. Glad I could help.
Just throwing another idea in and would be glad to hear your criticisms
Walker picked up his mask. A mask that terrified the aggressors and brought hope to the victim. Bleached white, gauze eye holes and a mouth that looked like it had been sewed up. Walker pulled it over his head. Walker checked his suit and picked up his extendable baton. He put it in his pocket and opened the door onto a walkway overlooking the Dark City. At average, the city is a kilometre high, the buildings connected with metal walkways. Soot gave the city the name as the buildings were covered in the stuff generated from the industrial zone of the massive city. A population of 70,000,000, the police force were not far reaching enough and vigilantes were needed. Walker would take that place. Walker strode up to the side and looked down. As his apartment was 1.2 kilometres up from the polluted ground below, he could not see down there but he knew what was down there.
The labour force. Blacks, Welsh, Irish, Scottish, immigrants from the smaller cities and towns. They lived in the mud and the Black River. The river was so polluted that no fish could live in it, just disease. In the history books, it was said that the Black River was beautiful but you would never believe it. The disease in the river was spread throughout the city half a century ago. The Great Plague. The female workforce in the textile factories brought it up from the river when they went to buy food for their children. It spread, taking out the market, spoiling the food. It killed 15,000,000 before the talented scientists in the Great Laboratory, which truly overlooked the city at 2 kilometres above ground level, found a cure and administered it. Not to the labour though, they were already immune, they just carried it. From then on, the labour force had their own market where disease spread. The conditions were said to be that of animals. Then to further make sure an outbreak never happened again, the government decided that every month, every labour worker would go under rigorous tests to check for disease and health. If he or she was diseased, they would then be cured. No cleanliness would be used while it happened and the person would probably have another disease by the next month. If the cure did not work or if you were no longer able to work, you were exiled from the city and if you refused or were not healthy enough to leave, you would be executed.
Walker shook his head at the inequality but he had work to do. He could do nothing to stop the racism. It was too deep set in the cities psychology but he could stop crimes. Everything one can make a difference, but only some choose to and Walker had chosen to. Set to be an heir to the owner of one of the great industrial factories which pumped soot into the atmosphere constantly, he would have had an easy life and a rich life, Walker decided it was not the life for him. He took a hundred thousand pounds, bought his apartment and took on the guise of the God’s Reaper. He would reap the world of the scum of this city and someday when he had the skill and power, he would rip the black, racist, capitalist heart out of the Tower of Faith, the parliament and centre of the church. But for now, the police were thankful for his presence. The police abided by rules. He brought fear to the criminals. He would kill and maim without question.
Walker heard a scream. He had trained his ears to such a high level that he could work out distance and direction. In front of him and down a level. Walker took a breath and threw himself off the edge. There was a second’s flight and he hit the walkway. A young woman jumped before recognising his mask and blowing a kiss to him. He didn’t register her as his mind was on the task. Walker came to the end of the walkway and threw himself to a wide walkway. The wider walkways carried carts which followed rails, electrically powered by the power plants. Walker composed himself and walked up to the crime. Five, by the looks of it, rich boys surrounded a young black woman. Most probably a servant, therefore meaning she would not be diseased.
“Gentlemen?” Walker said loudly. They all looked up from the riving woman. The deed had not been done but her dress had been torn. The men left her and she retreated into a foetus position.
“Oh, Jesus, the Reaper.” One of the men said. The men wore waistcoats and suits.
“God would rather you did not use his sons name in vain.” The same man nodded vigorously. Walker smiled under his mask at the fear he conveyed. The five men stood in an arrow head, the largest stood at the tip.
He had the build of a rugby player, a sport played in the less polluted countryside in the private schools. By his gait and accent, probably the Tome Academy, the cream of education, named because it was thought that the Tome of Faith was written there. A book in the Tower of Faith that, although in the ancient language of the city state, is said to document everything that ever happened in the city’s history and religion. More revered than the bible in the incredibly Christian society, it was the symbol of the city. Only adorned with a black leather cover, which is said to have predicted the city’s colour in the future, and a golden cross, it sat in a high security vault in the most secure part of the city. But back to the man.
“I don’t see what’s so scary about you. You’re tiny.” Walker couldn’t disagree, at five foot three, many towered above him. The most embarrassing part being the young woman at his father’s parties. But the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
“Don’t piss him off.” One of the other men said. Walker had to agree with him. He pulled his baton out of his pocket and flicked it. It snapped to its full size. Two of the men flinched. The woman still cowered.
“You’re so terrifying.” The biggest one pulled out a switchblade, he turned to the other men “Come on.” The four looked at each other before pulling out blades. One started backing away. The big man grabbed him and pulled him to the front.
“Mate, I didn’t come out to get screwed by the Reaper.” He said in panic.
“You won’t be but you just asked to have first stab.” The big man said quietly in his ear. The big man then gave him a shove towards Walker. The panicking man now had no choice and started to go for Walker. Walker watched him, the knife was going for his stomach. At one metre, Walker stepped to the side and used his strength and the man’s speed to make a damaging strike on the man’s temple. His feet left the floor and he stayed in the air for a second before hitting the ground. He could be dead, Walker didn’t care. He shouldn’t have tried to rape someone.
The other four men were frozen, even the big one. Walker then ran into the biggest one, sending him to the floor. Walker jumped up immediately and smacked the man across the face, dazing him rather than aiming to kill. Walker then got to work on the other three. Bones broke, people screamed, but most of all, people felt a lot of pain. After the work, Walker stood up, clicked his neck and walked over to the big man. He dragged him up. The guy was dazed but could see Walker.
“What are you doing?” He asked slowly, shaking his head, trying to shake himself out of his daze. Walker pulled him to the edge of the walkway.
“You want to rape our labour force, you should see how they live.” Walker said without emotion. He then grabbed the big man’s collar and the back of the man’s trousers and picked him up and then threw him over the edge.
He fell without a scream. He was too dazed. Walker stared after him before turning to the woman. She smiled at him. Walker strode up to her.
“Are you alright?” Walker said in a monotone voice, the way he always spoke.
“I am now. Thank you.” She said.
“You must get off the streets. Back to your quarters.” Walker said.
“I will, thank you. Again.” Walker nodded and walked back down the walkway to his apartment. The woman looked after him in awe.
Walker passed one of the maimed men.
“My dad will kill you.” He groaned. Walker stopped. The man flinched. Walker turned around and kneeled next to him. He pulled the man’s head up. There were tears on the bloodied face “Please don’t kill me, I didn’t mean it.” There was a five second pause as Walker stared into his face.
“I would like to see him try.” Walker then stood up, letting the man’s head hit the ground. The man took a deep breath and sounded as if he was crying.
Walker reached his apartment, passing the abandoned apartment next to it. No one lived on this floor except for him. For security. In the distance, the Grand Clock, the oldest building in the city, chimed for seven o’clock. At one kilometre high, it had been the tallest building in the city. Now it was a symbol of the old days before the darkness.
In 1917, the Russian Revolution failed. In 1939, the French and British allowed the Germans to take Poland, the campaign lasted longer without the assistance of the Red Army but nonetheless, the Germans then moved on to Russia. In 1943, a technologically superior German army attacked the Eighth Army in North Africa from the east and the west while invading France, bypassing the Maginot Line and crushing the outdated French Army. The BEF engaged with the German army but was routed and due to the recent mechanisation of the German army, the BEF were all captured or killed at Dunkirk. Japan was held back from attacking the USA but was winning the war in Burma. The German construction of U-Boats had also sped up meaning hundreds of U-Boats prowled the Atlantic, strangling Britain’s supply line. Operation Sea Lion then began. The Luftwaffe then crushed the under supplied RAF which while fighting bravely. The more experienced Luftwaffe pilots flew technologically superior aircraft including early jet fighters and flew rings around the RAF.
With the RAF defeated, the second phase of Operation Sea Lion began and the legions of Wehrmacht and SS invaded the weakened country. The British army had been wiped out at Dunkirk, the RAF was gone and the Royal Navy was either rotting in harbour or at the bottom of the sea. Britain was under occupation as Japan, Germany and Italy regenerated for the invasion of the USA. The year is 1946, Roosevelt has died and the USA is fearful.
John remembered the invasion. Reports on the radio. The Wehrmacht had occupied London. Churchill had been sent to Berlin to negotiate surrender. The Swastika moving north on his father’s map. Hereford was occupied and soon after Herefordshire was theirs. The British army was in no state to defend the country. They may fight in the fields and the streets and on the shores but courage can only do so much. John was fourteen in 1946. Two years later. The Germans were trying to absorb Britain. There had been films at the cinema of the Fuhrer telling the British that the German army would respect British courage and the fact they have Aryan blood. Many still didn’t accept defeat.
John sat at the kitchen table watching his mother sweeping the stone floor. Dirty plates sat by the sink and light came in from the three small windows. One of which was open, bringing some air into the kitchen on this hot summer day. John listened to the sound of a car pulling up. His mother looked up before going back to scrubbing, slightly quicker now. A door slammed, there were three pairs of footsteps. Two faded away but one came up to the door. There were three quick raps. John’s mother looked up at him before looking down again. There was another rap. John saw two Wehrmacht soldiers in summer uniform holding MP40’s talking outside. John then rose, walked slowly to the door and opened it to be faced with a black SS uniform in a black hat. John looked up at the tall, blonde, blue eyed German. He was probably handsome to a woman but John wouldn’t know. He had strong facial features while his powerful blue eyes seemed to demand respect yet he looked like he was only in his early twenties. John’s mother knew perfectly well who he was as she looked from under the table at the tall German being partly blocked out by her son. Sturmbannführer Friedmann, the young German officer who was now the commanding officer of the west Herefordshire area. His predecessor was killed in a car accident and he was in line for a promotion. A veteran of Operation Barbarossa, the campaign in North Africa and a veteran of the later battles in France. He also took part in Operation Sea Lion and led many victories. A true German war hero and was applauded for his victories across the Third Reich’s empire and all this was done by the young age of twenty two. He was still SS though and was therefore still brutal when he wanted to be. John’s mother stood up and stretched.
“Hello, Major Friedmann, what can I do for you?” She said in her Welsh accent, wiping her hands on her apron. The use of the British rank was her resistance against the indoctrination. Friedmann wouldn’t notice it but it was something.
“I am just here to be social, to show you more resistant characters that us Germans are friendly.” Friedmann smiled. The gleaming white teeth and the perfect smile would have been a dream to use for the Nazi propaganda machine “May I come in?”
“Of course. John.” John turned round before realising he was blocking Friedmann.
“Sorry.” He turned round and went to sit down.
“Don’t worry.” Friedmann removed his cap to reveal perfectly cut and combed hair. ‘Perfect propaganda fuel’ Mrs Harper thought. He then stepped in and sat down at the only chair left as Mrs Harper also sat down. Friedmann clasped his hands together “Now, I have been making a point of going to almost every house in my region to find out what worries you, what you would change about how we work. Any problems you have had with Wehrmacht or SS units. Vandalism, assault?”
“We’ve had no problems. Well, what I would change is I would get German forces out of our country.” Mrs Harper smiled. John looked quickly at his mother. There was a pause. Friedmann then started laughing.
“Very good joke, Mrs Harper. I would make your wish true if I could. We plan to allow your country free reign but first we must…” Friedmann made grasping movements with his right hand “What is the word, pull? Pull out your revolutionaries and your resistance fighters and then your country will be safe because we leave now and leave your new government. The resistance will take over and we will have to invade again and more people will die and we will once again have to postpone the invasion of the USA due to losses and use of weaponry. The Fuhrer and emperor Hirohito will not be very happy and may call for repercussions and may I just say. We have facilities in mainland Europe which can deal with many people very quickly.” Mrs Harper thought that last line had a sense of venom in it.
“Okay, so….” Mrs Harper was interrupted.
“So you see, Mrs Harper, we are trying to help you, you must understand.”
“Alright.” There was noise from outside.
“Herkommen, Hund!” One of the Wehrmacht soldiers shouted. John, Friedmann and Mrs Harper looked outside. A collie bounded over to the German who had called him, the man bending at the knees. The collie was the Harpers. The farm dog which helped them herd their sheep. Alex. The two Wehrmacht soldiers were clearly happy at the sight of the animal. One of them picked up a stick and threw it.
“He doesn’t chase sticks.” John mumbled. Friedmann looked at him and smiled.
“Go and teach them how to play with him.” John looked almost fearfully at Friedmann.
“Go on, keep an eye on them.” Friedmann winked at him, stood up and put his SS cap on Johns head “I just need to speak to your mother.” Friedmann smiled his perfect smile again and John smiled back before checking the cap and walking outside. Friedmann’s smile disappeared, he then sat down and sighed. Mrs Harper’s eyes rolled around, staring at anything but Friedmann.
“Where is your husband, Mrs Harper?” Friedmann asked. He pulled out a notebook and a pen.
“Um, he’s out herding cows.” She felt herself blinking quickly. A very visible nervous tick she wished she didn’t have.
“Cows? I thought you were a sheep farmer.” Friedmann started writing in his notebook. What was he writing, was it just an attempt to make her nervous.
“No, not our cows, the Joneses, Mr Jones has hurt his back.” Friedmann looked up before writing something else.
“Ah, the Joneses, we have reports of them being Jews or harbouring. Reports are sketchy at most.” Friedman smiled, not a bright, happy one, an evil one but it did not ruin his good looks.
“Well, I don’t know that kind of thing, they always went to church on a Sunday and um, well, I haven’t been to their farm in a few months, Mrs Jones always came to me.”
“Implying they may be hiding something?” Friedmann shrugged his shoulders while looking at his notebook. He smiled to himself. Mrs Harper started clasping and unclasping her hands.
“I… I wouldn’t know.” Friedmann noticed the hand movements and placed one hand on hers to stop it.
“Mrs Harper, you do not need to lie to me, you do not have to be afraid.” He said, almost kindly.
“I.. I don’t know.” Friedmann sighed and stood up. He walked over to the open small window which looked out at the soldiers and John. The two Wehrmacht soldiers were eighteen and nineteen if Friedmann remembered correctly so there was clearly no age problem. They were chasing the collie around.
“That boy, he would be a loss on the farm.” Friedmann turned round slowly to Mrs Harper “Wouldn’t he?” There was a look of fear on her face.
“Yes, yes,” she nodded vigorously “Um, now I think about it, Mrs Jones mentioned that Mr Jones was hiding a family in one of his barns.” Friedmann smiled and wrote in his notebook.
“Thank you, Mrs Harper. The Third Reich thanks you for this information.” He then smiled another perfect smile and walked out. Mrs Harper stood up shaking and walked in small steps to the doorway to watch him leave. He walked up to the black staff car that was parked up. One soldier was sitting on the bonnet while John and the other stood talking to him.
Friedmann walked up to the three.
“So, John, tschus is goodbye and hello is easy.” The soldier on the bonnet said
“Hallo.” John said.
“And how do you say….” The soldier looked up to Friedmann. He was smiling slightly. He muttered some German. The soldier nodded.
“So quickly, how do you my name is John.”
“Ich heiβe John.”
“Ja, wunderbar. Anyway, tschus, John.”
“Tschus.” John said. The soldier then walked round to the driver’s seat of the staff car while the other went to the passenger door. Friedmann took the SS cap off John.
“So, John, are you thinking of joining the Hitler Youth?” Friedmann said as he positioned his cap “We’re taking names for it.”
“Um, my father doesn’t think I should.” John said, looking up at the German.
“Well, your father will slowly understand that we are trying to help and your generation joining the Hitler Youth will bring us one step closer to peace.”
“I understand what you’re doing.” John smiled at Friedmann.
“Well, you think about it.” Friedmann smiled back at John before walking to the staff car and getting into the back. John stood and watched as the vehicle drove away.
I've just noticed some seriously questionable english but it's a work in progress
Doing really good there TDE, keep it up.
thanks, what do you think of the setting