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Shanix Random Stories
Topic Started: Jul 22 2011, 07:19 PM (230 Views)
Shanix
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So, I have the hobby of uncontrollable writing. Which is the primary reason I roleplay, but when you rolepaly, you're usually waiting for a response from someone. So, this thread is where I'm going to post snippets of my very random and/or disturbing stories that may or may not be in the same universe.

Here's my Thread Rules
-Don't expect me to continue writing if you enjoy something. However, you can bug me about it to no avail.
-These do not all follow a specific plotline unless I say they do.
-There may or may not be fan fiction in this thread
-Don't steal my stuff. I mean, that's just a real dick move. I do enjoy writing, but if I go into Barnes & Noble and see one of my stories there, I'll hate you guys for all eternity. Let these stories stay here, unless I publish them and you guys get a free copy.
I'm scared I might be losing you
and I don't know which way to turn
I feel I might be losing you


Sophie...
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Shanix
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Devil One One

In Durham, you can get almost 100% normal days. For example, we've gotten 70 degree weather both in January and the summer. In any season the temperature can plummet as low as single digits and skyrocket as high and triple digits. There’s only one rule, one sense of rhyme or reason to the whole thing: if there's a high in summer, there's a low in the winter. And this year, we'd been farther down than a man's morality after robbing an orphanage, which meant that the summer would be hot as Hades. However, in the fall of last year, we didn't know how low the temperature could get, or how high it would get later in the day or the week or the month, though besides that, everything was normal. The days were those of a general autumn - kinda nippy, enough for a light jacket, if you felt the need. But I never cared. I grew up in the South. It was colder than the arctic in Durham. So I always had a heavy jacket with me. A Carhartt, one of the best kind of clothing manufacturer's in the world. Their jackets might as well've had kevlar between the layers. Like body armor. And for once, there was a need.

Today, everyone expected it to be normal school day, and though our expectations seemed correct when it began, it felt...off. No one really pointed it out, but you could tell that there was a bit of an upset in the normal routine. But I digress. The day really did start normally - people got on their buses, others their cars, and some walked for the heck of it. I bussed my way to school. When we, the bus riders, got to Riverside High, I got off the bus and walked silently inside. Four others, Matthew, Daniel, Stewart and Kyle, loosely followed me, and we all headed to the same place. We all filed into the lobby of the school.

We started our daily banter as we waited until the bell rang so that we could head to class. During said interval our little group was like bacteria in a Petri dish. Everyone had friends, and everyone's friends had friends. And most people would rather be with their friends in a tight group rather than someone else they don't know. So most people were clumping together in groups, splitting apart when they were too big. Though I had...acquaintances in every clique and category that would ever show up, I barely talked to anyone, thanks to my iPod. When the bell rang, we all jumped up and went to class, save for the few who'd rather sit around and talk to each other and be late.

There are these windows in the hallways that reach from the floor to the ceiling and give you a good view of the sky around Riverside. That day I looked out them at random and saw that there was a small black thing approaching the school. Now, we live near an airport, so I could have just assumed it was a plane and continued on my way. But I didn't. The nearest airport was close enough that you could see the differences between large and small planes, but there was still a geographical function to consider. Unless you were coming or going from a east coast (touching the atlantic, but not the gulf of mexico), it would pass over the school perpendicular to the hallways, not parrallel to them. And that was another thing: it was flying from the North East. Nothing came from the North East. Nothing.

I looked at it for a few moments, then was yelled at for standing in the middle of the hallway. I dismissed the UFO, and went to my first period, which just happened to be was at the end of the second floor hallway closest to the lobby, meaning that if the UFO came by, we would definitely know. First period went by normally, with nothing really happening until the end, which was when the PA came on for announcements and we all heard something fly over the school. Close. After that the announcer stopped, and it wasn’t that he stopped talking...it was that the PA was cut off. I realized this was serious, shut my trap, and tried to get as many people close to me to do the same as I could. Of course we had plenty of loud mouths in the class so instantly there was whole lot of yelling.

Then, the power went out. The school had some old backup generators available, but they weren't good enough to power the entire school for more than a minute or two. So the lights came back by halves, leaving the classrooms somewhat dark, but not enough that you'd run into anyone. With the light people started to calm down, until we began to hear clinking sounds, like metal lightly tapping against metal - the second highest key on a stereotypical piano. Then banging and flashing, over and over, blinding at first like a microscopic supernova in my eyes. Once they stopped, things gradually returned to normal. My ears were ringing, and some people were on the floor. There were some more flashes. What the hell were those?

The next second, it seemed like someone'd throw RHS into shit creek without a paddle because the door snapped (later I found out that while we were blinded and ears ringing, suppressed rounds had been fired into the hinges) and a handful of guys rushed into the room, yelling in what I knew was Russian and motioning with their rifles to some of the larger people, which included me and my classmate Joshua, I did so at once. Joshua didn't. He was cynical and not the kind of guy to be bossed around. One second he was standing and shaking his head, the next second he was thrown against the desk as if by an invisible man, large pools of blood forming both below him and on his shirt.

I didn't hear the shot, but I saw his legs stagger back. I looked down at the floor, and listened to people beg for their lives as the gunmen walked around. They saw how big I was, and must have thought (and in the end, were right) that I would have been some form of opposition. That moment, I learned something. Do everything in your power not to be kicked in the stomach by some Olympian Russian who’s wearing steel-toed boots, because it hurts. A lot. I nearly puked and crapped myself at the same time.

After I had finished gasping for air, things really got confusing. Or something to that effect. Learning how to craft a flowing transition is immensely important. The Russians brought me up to my knees (not an easy task, for which they kicked me again), and put my hands behind my back. I didn't resist, and acted as if I wasn't very conscious. They cuffed my wrists, but kept yelling in Russian...something wasn't right. They lifted me up again, enough so that I was able to let the soles of my shoes touch the ground. I looked around and saw them doing the same to my friend Cole. Everyone being cuffed was either big or looked like opposition. For the moment, the Russians were letting us walk under our own power.

The moment the Russians went to the door they turned us so that one was in front of me, and two were behind Cole. While we were walking through the doorway, I saw a silenced 6P9 PB pistol on one of their belts, hung there, sort of between the pants and the belt, like he had been using it before and had quickly put it back on. I finished gathering my courage and turned around as quick as I could, smirked, and nodded to Cole before I snagged the pistol. I didn't know where I was aiming, just fired, three times. I managed to drop him, and I turned back around, waiting only for a second as Cole fell to the floor, knowing exactly what I was about to do.

The two Russians should have guessed that this would happen – obviously they hadn’t. I heard a gasp, then a groan after I fired two more rounds into his body. The last of the Russians heard him drop and quickly turned, at which I fired the rest of my stolen clip without realizing it. This resulted in two bullets in the chest of one Russian. The other grazed the last one’s Russian's neck. I tried to fire again. Nothing.

I knew that there was a chance that both of them could rise again. However, the chest wounds were enough to incapacitate anyone, so it was likely that I wouldn’t have to deal with at least one of them, and while the one with the grazed neck was concerned himself with A) how much the cut hurt, and B) why the hell he got shot, I tried to rush him. The Russian went down, and I lunged for his pistol. He grabbed my wrist, and squeezed TIGHT tight. I yelped for a second, then reached for his sidearm with my left hand. He wasn't quick enough, and I grabbed his pistol. I landed a shot in his wrist and one in his temple.

Holy hell....I had just killed men...and figured out one thing: there were Russians killing Americans on American soil. That's a damn invasion. Time to get to work.

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

I was shocked. Like when you're at a baseball game and you’re the one who caught the ball that was thrown into the stands. For a few moments the class just kind of stood or sat in shock and surprise. Everyone in the room kind of sat around, huddled close to their companions. Perhaps a better synonym? This one has a bit of a negative connotation. No one really tried to do anything. By now, Josh was undeniably dead, and it seemed like Cole had hurt his leg more thab a bit.

I was glad to say that the Russian invaders weren't exactly the most powerful fighting force in the world. The fact that we...I guess I...had killed four men with two pistols was enough to tell us that much, though it didn't sink in at first. I helped Cole up and into the room, and we pulled the bodies after us. I looked around at everyone, and moved to the leader of the Russian squad, and grabbed his rifle, an AK-103 with a silencer. The others had silenced AKMs, probably for dealing with the heavy amounts of concrete in Riverside.

I grabbed all the clips from the squad leader and put them in my pockets, then checked the rifle I looted. It seemed fine enough, and was already 'locked-n-loaded'. Cole grabbed one AKM while Demond, a classmate of mine who was bigger but had a much more calm...demeanor grabbed another. I gave one to Preston, a buddy of mine with a good enough knowledge of rifles and hunting, Really? But wouldn’t god hate him for killing cute widdle animals? and the final rifle to Dalton, the huntsman of the class. I believe that.

Since Cole had hurt his ankle, I left him and Demond in the class as a guard. After all, it would serve as our new home base, our command center. Everything we knew had gone through there. We looted the rest of the equipment from the dead, including more silenced pistols and a few leftover flashbang grenades. They'd be useful.

Dalton, Preston, and I started talking in low voices as to what the best plan would be. Preston thought we could just start shooting and take the school back, and I was about to hit him over the back of his head with the butt of my rifle. But I kept my cool, and Dalton proposed we took each room in a zigzag fashion from this room to the one across, then the one next to our class, then across the hall, over and over. That seemed like the best idea, and I checked the door and looked in the hall. Nothing. No yelling, no fighting, and although I thought I caught a quick glimpse of people being shuffled to the cafeteria I put that in the back of my mind, and moved in front of the door to keep watch, letting Preston and Dalton move forward. They waited at the door across the hall.

The door was slightly open, enough that we could push it open without any noise. I took position at the door with Dalton behind me and Preston behind him. I pushed the door open with my rifle and got a quick look at the room. There were four Russians, two of which were tying up students. Well, not for long. I moved against the window in the room, Preston looked into the room from the cover of the wall, and Dalton knelt in the doorway. Pfft Pfft Pfft. Pfft Pfft Pfft. Six shots, four dead. A moment passed where no one did anything, then finally, someone looked at the door. There we were, standing like dark guards of the school, arriving just on time. I moved around and found the teacher, a woman I'd never met.

"Ma'am, either move everyone slowly across the hall or stay in here. Bring the weapons over with you," I instructed. I added a bit of a Southern accent to make me seem more on her side, and she nodded. I looked back to the class and Dalton and Preston covered the door. I turned to the other students and whispered in to them in a bit of a hurried tone.

"Okay, first thing: Russians invaded. Second: We're American. We fight back. Who wants in?" No one immediately raised their hand, but eventually two short and stocky kids came up and grabbed the rifles. Funny that they didn't grab the sidearms and the ammo as well.


The teacher was good to her word and brought the rifles and ammo over to our room, which was becoming a real command center, an idea that made me happy. We continued through the rooms, killing off the Russians one by one, room by room, and gathering up more people. Eventually we realized that there wasn't enough space, and the spillover from the refugee classes merely moved back to the rooms we had rescued them from. In about half an hour we had occupied two entire halls, and no more Russians had shown. When we were done we had about forty militia armed with Russian weapons, and forty-five dead Russians. The other five sets of equipment went to arming a group guards. Three were on the end of the hallway and two were at the doors that led outside and to the grounds area.

I started commanding people within the middle classroom area and moved most of the computers and electronics to that room even though we had no power. I put my friend Emily in charge of the Computer Area while I was away, and basically everything while I was gone. While people were moving things, the men I'd assembled were outside checking their weapons and getting used to them while a few teachers and I were deciding our next plan. We had a few maps of the school laid out on some desks, and I let some of the teachers plan while another group of teachers, Emily, and I tried to figure out what had happened. Someone on the hallway had a good set of North Carolina maps, so we deciphered the actions from there and found that the best explanation was that Russian Pparatroopers had dropped at key zones on the east coast, while amphibious forces gathered and landed on the west coast as well as Alaska. It seemed like something along these lines would have caught the eyes of someone manning the radar. I silently prayed for those out west.

Once we were done, we ran through the plan. We'd secure the C and D halls and grab the lobby, including the Main office. After that, we'd post a few guards around the office while most troops moved on to the bottom level, taking the Art Hall first. Then we would move again towards the cafeteria, taking the E, F, G, and H halls. Once they were secure, we'd move to take the cafeteria and finally, the Tech hall. That had There were the closest things to weapons in there that we had before this, including some slightly rusted sabers from the ROTC. Of course, barely anything went as planned. We didn't expect the Russians to be setting up a command post in the office, and there were twice as many there as the C and D halls had. We lost several good men and a good twelve were wounded. Though there was a nurse’s office, and it was the type of school where someone brings a gun in their bookbag every year and a half, there was no way to treat gunshot wounds available.


There still was no power, but there were more computers and such. So I decided to do something. Each hall has its own Command and Control Center, unrelated to any other aside from the fact that each was working on something. The Office and the A Hall became interchangeable Control centers. B and C Halls became watch areas, with fewer electronics than the C&C Centers so as to avoid the chance of losing our slight advantage, which still stood against the Russians’ near infinite advantages. Considering what had gone down, we thought it would be best to attack directly to the lower level from each of the four stairwells and from the theatre. We made sure to leave some people guarding the stairs outside and the entrance to the lobby.

It was about 9:30 by the time the dust had settled on the top floor. Given our situation, I let everyone rest for two minutes. I was drinking a bottle of water when I realized I'd accidently become some form of leader of this resistance. At the end of the time, I gathered up everyone and assigned positions. I took the more loyal or closest of my friends and made them squad leaders. There were about seven in all. Seven squads of about four to seven people each. A single squad of seven would take the lobby stairwell and attempt to secure that area in as little time as possible. Simultaneously, four other squads would move through the stairwells while two teams of four took the theatre. Everyone was at their doors, ready to swing them open and start fighting. I ran from the office to the lobby stairwell and tapped the squad leader's shoulder. I waited for three seconds before moving to the theatre groups. I made them move, then ran to move the final squads.[/COLOR]
I'm scared I might be losing you
and I don't know which way to turn
I feel I might be losing you


Sophie...
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Shanix
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Unnamed Sci-Fi Story
I found this floating around on my hard drive while I was deleting pictures of my ex, which means it's pretty old. Expect this to be updated before the one above.


Way back when, before they even considered calling the Shanix planetary cluster Shanix, I shipped out, I being my own commander on a small Class-C Cargo Loader. With a single weapon system, and a titanic cargo hold full of colonists and supplies (neither of which had space), I departed from my homeworld with a small fleet of similar ships, and settled on a small planet named, due to the number of technical engineering colonists aboard, Optiplex. We spent months cultivating the land, starting the production of food, water, and necessary goods. We set up villages in a tight formation, keeping maps in each, being updated almost instantly thanks to a few networking systems. After a week or so, we finally made a small group of communities, and created a small function StarPort, made out of most of the parts of my old ship. I had a simple, but functional and nice, life. Until, of course, we got raided.

A whole planet’s worth of metal scrapped together to make a fleet of raiding ships. In a half second, nearly 200 pirate craft tore through the black space and made a small blotch of silver and grey in the sky. We weren’t exactly a fortress world, we didn’t exactly have a defense system, but we had a good 4,000 people willing and unready to fight for our planet.

Some started to wipe data; others started rallying militia to defend the ground, and the rest were like me and got into the nearest space-ready craft and powered it up. We had some form of communication, and we launched at the same general time. Our craft weren’t amazing; we had, at the most, 20 space ready craft, and, amazingly a few Baikokur (That’s Byke-o-Cur) Class Frigates were present, albeit probably some of the older ones and few armaments. I was part of the weapons team of the biggest cruiser, the old United Earth Space Fleet Ein Umzug. It was the slowest of anything, and probably could have carried every other one of our ships and then some within its holds.

As we lifted up, I felt some form of pride in the pit of my stomach. It was amazing on its own; comparable to what the Spartans must have felt when they laid eyes on Xerxes’ army come to face them. They and we knew we were going to die, and neither group cared. This was our planet. This was our fight. But we couldn’t put up the same fight. We were outgunned, outshipped, and outclassed. A few hundred, maybe a thousand men, women, and children launching into deep space to fight an entire navy of raiders.

Beside us was a scrapper (ship made to take dead or destroyed ships and use them to repair others, like a mobile repair station but more maneuverable), the Espio. I could see small thruster flares here and there, the common sign of a scrapper crew getting ready for a fight. On our right, the opposite of the Espio, was The Destroyer Velanis, which, to this day, I don’t know, and question, its name. And, in front of us, as if they formed an escort group, was a relatively new vessel, the United Planets Space Council ship, Ishamiru. A decommissioned UPSC destroyer, it had a good amount of weapon systems, probably more than any other ship here, and half the size of the Ein Umzug.

But the raiders seemed to have stolen from the most secretive and prototypic ships of the UPSC; The Exodus, Savior, and Exalted One, all three almost redefining the term of ‘futuristic’. Laser cannons, Tens of thousands of missile pods, each holding 50 HSEA/MU(Heat-Seeking Anti-Engine/Movement Unit)-IV missiles, and 25 millimeter Gatling cannons covering any and every possible attack vector of any projectile/fighter craft. And, to top it off, each was equipped with a prototype energy shield, which basically created a barrier of some sorts that blocked an attack. 20 junkyard and colony ships against the 3 most powerful human warships in the universe. It was like The Battle of Thermopylae, but with the forces reversed.

The Espio peeled off our side and moved behind the Ein Umzug, taking care to be clear of its massive engines. The Velanis and Ishamiru moved forward, along with communiqué from the Ishamiru’s Captain. The grizzled ex-military commander’s face appeared on a view screen, and spoke (although his audio came in about two seconds fast) to the three other nearby ships. “The Velanis and Ishamiru shall move in before the Ein Umzug and Espio, and the scrapper will move to support nearby ships as well as ours, as a priority.”
I'm scared I might be losing you
and I don't know which way to turn
I feel I might be losing you


Sophie...
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Mesoland
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Global Moderator, SoFA
Moar please.
'Operating Heavy Machinery since 98'

So i herd u liek mudkips. Join the Mudkip Club.
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Shanix
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Mesoland
May 18 2012, 11:59 AM
Moar please.
I'm actually writing up a Mass Effect FF at the moment, but let me see what I've got in my folders.
Aaaaaand - I'm completely re-editing the first story. Because it's shit to me now.
Edited by Shanix, May 18 2012, 12:01 PM.
I'm scared I might be losing you
and I don't know which way to turn
I feel I might be losing you


Sophie...
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Mesoland
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Global Moderator, SoFA
Cheers bro.
'Operating Heavy Machinery since 98'

So i herd u liek mudkips. Join the Mudkip Club.
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