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Post by Administrator on Aug 30, 2010 15:29:56 GMT -5
Indeed, here you will be able to read a novel as I write it, chapter by chapter. This is not going to be the final product, nowhere near such, but it will be a slow process that I shall be writing. _____________________________________ Prelude: A Caution, Before We Begin___ In case those of you who may have discovered this tale did not yet know, this is a story with a grim outlook. If you should find the first few chapters too grim for your tastes, then you should not continue further. This is a tale of loss, despair, destruction, devastation, and unspeakable horrors. Your "hero" will go through physical and metaphysical tortures, have his mind destroyed and shattered into several pieces. He will lose his identity, and his mind. His body will be twisted into a vile form too horrid to imagine. He will even lose his name. There will be an individual responsible for this. You will know from near the beginning who it is. Your "hero" will remain clueless. The vile individual responsible will be shown to be even more horrible than you can imagine at one point. Yea, this is a tale of sorrow, a symphony of loss and a horrible, twisted fate. If any of this you cannot stomach, turn back now, before it is too late. ENTER
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Post by Administrator on Aug 30, 2010 16:04:55 GMT -5
I remind you this is a work in progress, and as such, it will be edited in when it--the chapter--is completed here: IN PROGRESS.
Chapter One: An Unsound Start___
Thunder rumbled in the dark night, stray bolts of electrical energy in the form of lightning lighting up the large city. It was the pinnacle of technological advancement and civilization in its world, but, to an observer, it would appear to be a mismatched place, a place where buildings were a combination of wood and steel, and nothing ever looked the same as its neighbor, or any other in the whole city, in fact.
Bolts of the unstable electricity struck various lightning rods placed upon rooftops for that purpose, and to collect their energy, likely for use in some future experiment. For this was Knupmaets, often called Knup City by those not claiming residency, and most of those living there were scientists, or were otherwise interested in the medley of test subjects that wandered the city, or were one of those wanderers.
There was only one other case in the city of Knup, and that was if you were the child of one of the previous. Some of the children went on to become scientists or test subjects, thus furthering the cycle. Another significant portion left when they came of age, going off to do who knew what somewhere else. A very minute percentage, however, formed little "rebellion" groups, sabotaging whatever they could, destroying property, and all sorts of other, mostly minor, mischief.
Lightning flashed again, striking another of the rods placed strategically around the city, and also lighting up a figure walking quickly through Knupmaets, wearing a dark colored trenchcoat, perhaps the color blue. It mattered not, as the color of the trenchcoat the man was wearing holds little value to this story. What did, however, hold value to the story was the bundle he carried. The whimpering, whining, crying bundle he held in his arms, a child adopted, held in a cold, stiff embrace. For he was a scientist first and foremost, a father second, and only raised the child out of necessity.
That is what the man, Aleister Iago Maverick, thought to himself as he carried the child into the house facing him, a mismatch of wood, steel, and even a little bit of rubber in come places. He called the child Liam Oren-Ohm Maverick, named for his father with the resistance unit thrown in. As soon as Liam was coherent enough to understand speech, he made it clear that he, Aleister, was not his birth father. All of Liam's early teaching was done by a private tutor hired by his adoptive father, so Aleister was left to his researching and experimenting with little to no interruptions.
Over time, the boy became more and more knowledge hungry, hoping that learning all he could would enable him to--one day--learn something he could use to make his father--albeit his adoptive father--proud of him. When Liam turned ten, his father made it quite clear to him that there was absolutely no way that he would ever make him proud, and said so in the most nasty terms possible.
"...and I curse the frail human morality that brought me to the preconceived misconception that keeping you would somehow do any good for anyone. I consider you my one monumental failure in my lifetime, so you may congratulate yourself on that..." There was more, but Liam couldn't hear him any longer. Liam had begun to break down into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. Aleister broke off his tirade to look at the child now crying at his feet. He kicked at the child to back Liam away from him, and then walked off, back to his work. He had been away from it for too long.
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