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  1. #1
    Drakie's Avatar
    Drakie is offline Pro Gamer
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    Icon1 Sabian by Drake - UNFINISHED!

    Ok guys i started writing this like 6 months ago, but then gave up.

    You think i should finish it?

    Enjoy





    An Epilogue From The Future.

    It was never a question of when and how – these were irrelevant. Everyone knew that as soon as they had discovered the secret it was all over. But it was a question of why. Why had no-one realised what would happen if they tried to tamper with nature? Why had no-one stopped the desolating hurricane of destruction before at had laid waste to so much? The events recorded in this novel are here as a reminder. A eternal monument to the corruption that caused so much heartache to the world.

    Chapter I – Some Angry Men, A Needle and A Great Deal Of Running.

    Hot shards of molten stone exploded over Cale's head as the shot from a Police Recon Team's Invader rifle struck the stone surrounding a tall, majestic, wrought iron statue that was his hiding place. PRT squadron members were trained in a brutally harsh and regimented course, leaving them cruel, twisted and emotionless. Crouching down behind the now badly weakened stonework wall, he eased himself around the edge to glance at his attackers. The PRT squad were running across the plateau in the distance, their guns blazing. From their direction he could hear the alarm siren shrieking from the Elyxon Tech building, the shouting of the heavily armoured PRT and the pounding thud of each step closing in on him. Cale slid back round the wall and pulled himself onto his knees. He steadied himself, heart pumping, throbbing deep inside his chest. He looked at the folder in his hand, marked, 'Elyxon Tech', then glanced around the corner to see how much time he had left. Another projectile landed, shaking the stone wall. Cale rested his hand on the ground to keep himself upright. Eyes darting, thinking quickly, he made a snap decision. Shaking the dust from his hair, he reached into his rucksack muttering to himself and removed a small canister marked 'Neuroveron VI'. He slid a small tube from inside and twisted the end. From the tube, a slender hypodermic needle silently extended. A minuscule amount of the black liquid contained within the hypo descended from the tip, rolled steadily down the length of the needle, over his fingers and dripped to the ground.

    The deep, endless black of the liquid held Cale's attention briefly, as he lost himself in the silent mystery of the curious substance.

    Cale closed his eyes and held his breathe, resting the hypo on his skin, forming a small depression on his arm. As he braced himself, jaw clenched, a sudden snap-fizz of light erupted around him and another section of burning wall spewed over him in a blur of evaporated masonry. He was violently thrown to the ground, debris raining down on his aching body. The sickly, acrid smell of carbolic acid filled the air from the rifle round. Cale's eyes glazed over as he tried to right himself. Blood dripped from his face. He glanced into a nearby pane of glass to see an inch and a half gash adorning his forehead, leaving his face awash with red. Trickling over his lips the blood formed a pool on the rubble strewn plateau. Consciousness was vacating him fast. Through the glass however, he saw the PRT only 50 yards or so away from him. He eased himself up and groaned as he moved. His arm was broken and he was losing blood rapidly. Suddenly, Cale felt something. An odd gentle tingle in his chest. Groggily, he looked down. The hypo had been driven deep into his heart when he was thrown to the floor. He slumped to the ground. As his breathing began to intensify, Cale held his arms up and saw his veins turn a slick shade of grey, then develop into a deathly black. The blood dripping over his body mixed with sweat as his fear turned to absolute panic. Raising his eyes to look into the glass, Cale saw his pupils dilate and become a deep purple. Shaking uncontrollably, he tightened his fists, braced himself, and took off running.


    Cale knew he had precious little time. The Neuroveron was diffusing through his blood, infecting his organs and poisoning his body. As he ran, he felt the world begin to spin around him, his mind becoming a hazy dreamworld, a swirling tempest of meaningless lights and sounds. Suddenly he felt a sharp agonising sting as a rifle bolt pierced his leg, sending him cascading onto the ground. Cale rolled over and looked into the blinding light one last time. Through the cloudy, whirling ecstasy of near-death, he saw the PRT squad close in on him. The blurred, cloudy outlines of the men moved closer and closer and closer.

    His eyes rolled into the back of his head and with a painful groan, his consciousness vacated him.

    Cale's eyelids flickered open. His mind warmed into life and echoed with quiet whispers as the engine of his brain kicked into gear. Voices played through the back of Cale's mind, dancing and pirouetting in between the nerves and neurones of his brain.. An unnatural calm set in. Warm sun bathed him and the ground in a soft gentle light. A breeze fluttered through the trees, swaying the branches and rustling the leaves. In the distance he could see a shadow running towards him. Cale squinted and struggled to make out who it was but the shady figure remained unrecognisable. He made a move to right himself, and found he was unable. Looking down he saw the ground beneath him begin to turn black. The sky followed suit and the peaceful, perfect world began to corrode and vanish into a deep chasm of bleak decimation. He was enveloped in torrent of dark hysteria. Locked in a burning mind, nowhere to run.

    With a jump, Cale was awake.

    He sat up. At first he was unsure whether or not he had woken up, for the room he found himself in was utterly black, and opening his eyes made no difference whatsoever. His body ached all over but it wasn't the pain from his broken arm, or the gash on his head, or even the shot wound in his leg. It was a deeper pain, coursing through his entire being, through every cell, every muscle, every bone. In the black, silent air he heard a soft, slick female voice whisper.

    'Welcome back, Cale.'

    Chapter II – Monotony, Sleeplessness and a Once-in-a-lifetime Event.

    2 Years Earlier

    Cale rolled over and sighed. He turned to face the old dusty, damaged table beside his bed to read the clock. '1.47 AM' it read. His eyes blinked sleepily as he stared into the beaming red light of the clocks display. He rolled conversely onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

    'This is ridiculous' he murmured angrily to himself. His anger was justified.

    The dreams never ended.

    He let off another deep, heartfelt sigh and hoisted his tired bones out of his bed. Cale trudged towards his bedroom door, but stopped before he touched the door handle. He turned slowly, facing the bed. In the dark he could just make out the smooth contours of the woman lying in the bad, sleeping soundly. Cale's wife, Kara, was oblivious to the inner torment facing her husband. Cale was not a man to share his deep feelings. He was more of a whiskey man. Turning back the door, he touched the handle lightly and began to turn it.

    The door opened with a soft creak, and Cale stopped as his head darted around, cautious as the if the noise had awoken the sleeper in the room. No movement. He stopped for another second before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

    Cale's living room was quiet and unassuming. He was not a rich man, but he did well for himself. An aspiring painter, his room was filled with wall upon wall of copies of old artwork by the great masters. But non of his own. Although his dream was to become a famous artist, he didn't believe in egotism and refused to display his artwork in his own home. He looked at the easel leaning on the wall in the far west corner of the room, then at the painting above it. Van Gogh's Sunflowers. Genius despite insanity.
    'Why can I never be the insane one?' he said to himself, half joking.
    He moved over to a small coffee table, sitting alone in the centre of the room. A few magazines lay on top, along with an empty mug and a paintbrush. Kneeling down next to the table, he removed the few items that were on top, and reached to either side to unhinge two small catches. With a soft, 'click, click' they were undone. Cale steadily lifted the lid from the table, revealing a small compartment inside. This was Cale's keepsake safe. Somewhere for him and him alone to have access to. His wife had no idea. Inside was a photo from his wedding day, a box of matches from the hotel they stayed at for the honeymoon, a small, old hunting knife, a pack of playing cards with 'Visit Greece' written on the back, a small glass container of whiskey and among other small, trivial things, and slip of paper. Cale moved the other items aside in order to pick up the piece of paper. On the crumpled brown scrap were two things. First a ten-digit number, and then three words. Haunted by this riddle, Cale had returned to this slip of paper many times before, hoping and praying that one day he would find the answer to whatever it meant. Cale recalled the day he found it. How could he forget, as it was the very same day, several years ago when his parents were found dead in the house he grew up in. In his fathers pocket was a letter, and in that letter was the very slip of paper that Cale now held in his hand.

    A tear formed in Cale's eye.

    'No. Not again.' he said to himself.

    He glanced up at the clock to see the time. 2.01 AM. Cale yawned, as if the very sight of the time caused his body to gasp for breathe. Then he stopped. He looked at the paper in his hand, then at the clock. Then back at the paper, then once more at the clock. Cale read the number over and over again. '02-02-02-02-20.' He wrestled his phone from his jacket that was laying on the floor by the table and fumbled to find the calender. It read '2nd February 2020'.

    2.01 AM 2/2/2020...

    Could it be possible? Was It a horrible mind-numbing coincidence?

    Cale's heart was beating a mile a minute. His eyes were fixed on the clock. Watching the seconds tick towards the second minute, of the second hour, of the second day of the second month of the second decade of the second millennium, his mind was racing and his breathing sped up. What did this mean?

    Three...two...one.

    Cale closed his eyes but nothing happened.

    Several seconds later he re-opened them, and scanned the room. Nothing. Cale looked back at the clock. 02-02-02-02-20. Cale blinked. The clock had stopped. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down and shook his head. Then looked up again. The second hand was stuck at one second past twelve.

    'I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming.' Cale repeated to himself. He pinched his arm and slapped himself in the face. Nope. Fully awake.

    A noise came from behind him. A silky soft, breathy whisper drifted through the room. Like faint white noise in the air, a soothing calm beset Cale. Pocketing the slip of paper, he turned slowly around and faced the direction that the sound has emanated from.

    The bedroom.

    Chapter III – First Impressions, A Blind Catfish and Some Remarkable News.

    Cale's door once again creaked softly as he cautiously opened the rusty-hinged door and entered the dim room.

    'Honey?' He whispered. 'I think you should come see this.'

    He waited.

    'Kara?'

    Cale moved into the room. He glanced at the bed. His eyes tried to make out the shape of the sleeping body in the gloom. He stepped softly towards the side of the bed as he suddenly realised that the reason why he could not see his wife, was because she wasn't in the bed. He stood up with a sharp jolt. He dashed over to the wall and snapped the light on. The room flickered into light. The bed was empty. Cale stood still for a moment, breathing heavily as he began to panic. Then he stopped. Laying on the bed, right where his wife was sleeping, was a small strip of paper, torn from a sheet. Cale edged himself towards the bed, and nervously picked up the curling strip. He saw three words printed in a very familiar font. Cale gasped as he realized what this particular piece of paper was. Holding the dirty scrap in this hand, he reached into his pocket and removed the other piece of tattered paper he had taken from his safe and held them both up. There was no doubt that they were from the same sheet. He stared in horror and the finished message. Although it still made to sense whatsoever, the words scrawled on the strips made enough sense to send a deep, dark shiver down Cale's spine. Now complete the paper read;

    02-02-02-02-20
    Scheduled For Termination
    Kara Elizabeth Sabian


    'Funny isn't it? How everything can change in one second?'

    A cool female voice from behind Cale startled him so he shot round with a jolt.

    In the corner of the room, in the only spot of dim light, a thin, shadowy figure leant on the wall.

    'Who are you?! How did you get into my house?!'

    'Ah Mr. Sabian there are far more pressing matters to consider than those trivial questions. For instance, I do believe you have something of mine.'

    The figure moved out of the shadows and into the light of the room. Finally Cale was able to get a first look at the strange trespasser. She was a tall, young woman with lush red hair tied into a loose ponytail that fell around her neck and down to her midriff. She was wearing a tight black short sleeved leather jacket zipped right up to her neck and black skin tight trousers that were tucked into black boots at her feet. At the side of her boots was a holster containing a very sinister looking knife. She was wearing leather fingerless gloves and in her right hand she carried another deadly silver knife with a tip painted red. Her complexion was utterly flawless and her pale skin was a stark contrast against the black leather. Her eyes glowed with a deep darkness that filled the room with an empty hollow dread. She moved through the room with a strange silence and a quiet grace that commanded the attention of Cale as he watched, fascinated by the mysterious figure.

    'Where is my wife? What have you done with her?' Cale asked, although he heard in his voice that he did not sound nearly has intense as he had intended. The cool stare of the woman held his mind, causing a calm to settle on his sub-conscience.

    'Oh don't worry about her, she's quite safe, as long as you co-operate. I came here to give you some very interesting news regarding your parents.' the woman spoke, softly.

    'My parents are dead.' Cale replied firmly.

    The woman's left eyebrow raised every so slightly. 'Is that so?'
    She sat the end of the bed, and crossed her legs. 'What if I told you they were still alive and well and are simply dying to see you?'

    'I don't believe you! Who are you? Why are you here?'

    'Cale, Cale, Cale.' She shook her head, a silky smile playing across her face. It was only then that Cale saw the definition of age in the face. She was clearly older than she looked.

    'If you truly, and I mean truly want to know the truth, then I need to be sure I can trust you.' the woman said, more sternly than she had previously spoken. She stood up swiftly and made her way to the large, old window on the north facing wall of the room. She turned as she reached the glass, an icy stare cutting deep into Cale's mind.

    'Tomorrow. 11.45 AM. The Blind Catfish. Be there if you dare.'

    With a wink, she placed what looked like a business card on the table beside the bed and climbed deftly out the window.

    Cale stood still for what seemed like hours. He walked towards the table and stared at the card laying forlorn. Too confused and stunned to breathe, he grasped the card and held it up to his face, reading the words written in smooth, crisp, red handwriting. It carried the same words the woman had spoken to him before her abrupt departure, which was as sudden as her arrival. Cale was familiar with The Blind Catfish, a restaurant on the outskirts of the city. He and Kara had eaten there many times in the past. But as for the identity of the stranger, her reasons for visiting him and the news of his parents possibly being alive, he had no idea where to start. He knew something was wrong, something indefinable, something that was keeping him from sleeping.

    He put down the card and started to leave the room. However something caught his eye. He had laid the card upside down and had not noticed the inscription that was on the back. Cale picked up the card once again to read the newly discovered words.

    Emma Sabian
    Welcome back

    Chapter IV – A Meeting, A Message and Apple Pie

    Somewhere on the other side of the world, at the exact same moment Cale read the words on the business card, DCI James Mack sat in a seedy, damp bar drinking a pint of lukewarm lager in a slightly dirty glass, and prodding the remains of a cold apple pie that sat in an equally dirty bowl, with an equally dirty spoon. He glanced wearily down at his watch. It had stopped at 2.02 AM. He tapped the face of the watch and shook his wrist. The hands refused to move. He gave up and returned to exploring the pie with his spoon. Things were not going well for Mack. He had recently lost his wife in a freak car accident, his daughter had left her husband and their three-year-old daughter and run away with with a motorcycle gang member and just this morning the chief had announced that there were going to be some lay-offs in the department. Mack was 54. He had been a force to be reckoned with during his time in with the police. Yet he knew his retirement was just around the corner. He had served 29 years with the law and it was his life. Yet according to the book, retirement had to come by the 30th year of service. Mack thought this over in his head.

    'What good will retiring do for me? I've still got some life in my bones.' he pondered to himself.

    At that point the bars swinging doors - reminiscent of an old cowboy saloon – burst open, and a tall, thin, sweaty man rushed inside clutching a large bundle of papers. He was wearing a black, untidy jacket and black suit trousers. His tie had been blown over his shoulder and his hair was a tangled mess of brown curls. Mack observed this strange, disorganized person make his way hastily towards the bar, place his papers clumsily on the side and stoop over, leaning on a barstool to catch his breath.

    'What's your poison?' the husky, unshaven barman growled to the newcomer as he cleaned a beer glass with a dirty rag. The man seemed taken aback by the harsh confrontation. He straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair. Then he turned and looked around the bar, seemingly unaware of the question posed by the sour-faced barman, who had now once again become preoccupied cleaning his glass. Mack looked at his own glass, wondering why a barman who spent so much time cleaning glasses had provided him with such filthy drinking implements. Mack's musings, however were cut short as the ragged stranger returned his gaze to the barman and addressed him.

    'Excuse me sir, is there a Detective Inspector James Mack in this bar?'

    The barman looked up slowly from his fastidious polishing and glanced around the bar. He shrugged his shoulders. Mack had overheard the question but decided to amuse himself watching the young man struggle to decide his next move. The man sighed and sat down on the barstool he had been resting on.

    Mack watched him, and studied his actions. He could see that the man was of steely resolve but was easily flummoxed. Mack watched attentively as the young man turned to the barman and whispered something to him. The barman leaned in to listen to the young man, placing his glass on the bar and stuffing the rag into his back pocket. As the young man continued to whisper, Mack noticed the barman's eyes widening. When at last the young man finished speaking, the barman had been left with a puzzled look playing across his bristly face. With a strange smile, the young man repeated his question. The barman turned and looked at Mack, then gestured with a dirty finger to the table where Mack was seated.

    'Thank you sir.' the young man said with a firm, yet cheerful tone in his voice.

    Mack watched as the young man gathered up his papers and made his way clumsily over to the table at which he was seated. As he reached the table, the young man addressed Mack with a beaming smile. Mack responded likewise.

    'Mr. Mack.' coughed the young man as he fumbled to set the papers down on the table and seat himself.

    'Aye. That'll be me.' Mack replied, ensuring he matched the others measuring stare, keeping an air of mistrust ongoing.

    'My name is Mr. Harvey. I am a representative of the board of directors at Elyxon Tech Enhancers. I have a matter of extreme importance to discuss with you.'

    Mack was tired and already annoyed and fed up with this conversation.

    'Look sonny.' he retorted tiredly. 'Drop the act. Tell my why your here or get lost.'

    Mack's response almost shocked himself, but luckily the young man was not too bothered my Mack's beer-induced attitude problem.

    Mr. Harvey's demeanour however, changed. He stood up and ran his hands through his tousled hair. He coughed and stared Mack right in the eyes, a stern, serious gaze icing over his face.

    'Your wife, James.' Mr. Harvey's face conveyed all the seriousness needed to make Mack realise this was no joke. The young man continued as Mack's face hardened.

    'Her death...I came here to inform you of some disturbing news. The accident, was not an accident at all. Your wife was murdered.'
    Lost in fog and love and faithless fear,
    I've had kisses that make Judas seem sincere..

  2. #2
    CJisAwesome's Avatar
    CJisAwesome is offline Amateur Gamer
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    Default Re: Sabian by Drake - UNFINISHED!

    Excellent way to start my morning
    Celeste Wolfears
    Check out A Reformation By me

  3. #3
    Drakie's Avatar
    Drakie is offline Pro Gamer
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    Default Re: Sabian by Drake - UNFINISHED!

    Thanks

    Its not bad lol

    I just get writers block
    Lost in fog and love and faithless fear,
    I've had kisses that make Judas seem sincere..

  4. #4
    Eladwodahs Alim's Avatar
    Eladwodahs Alim is offline Master Gamer
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    Default Re: Sabian by Drake - UNFINISHED!

    Good stories rarely happen overnight and writers block is ineviable, but you had me intrigued here. The visuals in the beginning are suspenseful, mysterious, you want to know what's happened to Cale, even Kara....what is she? an android? Sci fi is fun to write and even more fun to read if it is kept interesting. I hope you can break your writers block and continue on.
    Nothing is permanent.

    Buddha

  5. #5
    Drakie's Avatar
    Drakie is offline Pro Gamer
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    Default Re: Sabian by Drake - UNFINISHED!

    Thanks for the feedback

    Im awful at writing stories but hopefully i can keep up with this one
    Lost in fog and love and faithless fear,
    I've had kisses that make Judas seem sincere..

  6. #6
    sanada05's Avatar
    sanada05 is offline Amateur Gamer
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    Default Re: Sabian by Drake - UNFINISHED!

    Cool stories ! Maybe you should finish it until chapter....100 !

  7. #7
    Drakie's Avatar
    Drakie is offline Pro Gamer
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    Default Re: Sabian by Drake - UNFINISHED!

    XD

    Wow....thats long XD

    I might publish it

    Nahhhh
    Lost in fog and love and faithless fear,
    I've had kisses that make Judas seem sincere..

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