FanFic: A Mildly Amusing Diversion: Log 3

[Solstis]

Log 1: The Necessary Introduction.

A short, blond haired, grey eyed young man strode up to the Guild Counter, his face beaming with confidence. Far from any ordinary confidence, this surety was the sort that televangelists use to brainwash the masses.

Though Cyrus Merks had yet to brainwash anyone, it was on his mental checklist of things to do before he died. Then again, nearly every event possible was on this list, and he could never recall an action more than once.

Fortunately for Cyrus, he had randomly remembered to renew his Hunter's License during his daily shopping trip for things that explode. Far from adept with weapons, Cyrus preferred to use explosives because they required little more than a basic understanding of how to push a button. He rarely purchased the somewhat less common two button combination, which came in several trendy models, and he rarely spared a glance for the three button grenades. Cyrus believed that with the increasing popularity of the explosive projectile, the true meaning of the weapons was being diluted. He was, of course, completely wrong, but he had yet to die, and used that information as proving his convictions.


Striding up to the desk with an unsurprisingly insignificant amount of difficulty, Cyrus leaned on the metallic counter and winked at the Guild secretary. She attempted to give him a piercing glare, but only managed one that amounted to a polite tap on the shoulder. Cyrus felt a sudden urge to turn around, but ignored it, assuming that the children were up to their pranks again. The man had recently watched a documentary focusing on a band of children that tricked unwary hunters in the Slums of Pioneer 2. Though it was an outdated documentary, considering that the Slums no longer existed, as a particularly irate android named Alpha 360 had destroyed them (purportedly on accident), it was regarded as being very informative.

"I've come to renew Guild ID number..." Cyrus pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and furiously attempted to unravel it. In a positively ordinary and annoying coincidence, he remembered his identification just as the numbers on the scrap were legible.

"...867 - 5309."

The woman scrunched her face to more accurately depict her annoyance at the mere thought of working, and then proceeded to punch the numbers into a keypad under the counter with menacing strength. This was not a particularly happy day for the desk clerk, as she had just turned in her 2 week notice. Now, this is not traditionally a source of great strain, but her manager had laughed when he received her angrily typed memorandum. Apparently, he had planned on firing her in 2 weeks anyway.

"Your membership to the Guild has been revoked due to alleged... 'Crimes Against Humanity.'"

Cyrus balked and found himself capable of a suitable response.

"Mwaaallr?"

Was the best that he could do. The desk clerk shrugged her shoulders and began reading off of an electronic list.

"You apparently destroyed a bacteria sample's container. It was then released, and 30 of the lab's scientists died before the outbreak could be contained. Then there came the resulting zombies."

Cyrus's entire body twitched. He made a mental note to get that checked.

"Zombies?"


Cyrus Merks had, two weeks prior, had been offered a high paying contract to steal a biological weapon from a laboratory on Ragol's surface. Though he thought it to be a particularly dangerous sounding assignment at the time, Cyrus considered the potential award to far outweigh the risks.

Coffee.

All food on the Pioneer 2 was synthesized using soy, dust, and surplus building materials. The resulting products tasted somewhat like traditional foods, but only with quite a bit of imagination. Though physically young, Cyrus was actually an immortal, owing to an adventure that he no longer recalled.

His immortality is, in fact, why he had not yet died due to his faulty grenades. Technically, if one of Cyrus's devices had detonated in his hand, he would have experienced a great pain and lost a limb or two. Fortunately for him, he appeared to be blessed with a divine luck that prevented such incidences. In actuality, Fate had rigged Cyrus's entire life to a certain point in time, thus mitigating any deadly situations.

Only two other beings in the history of the current Universe have ever been puppets of fate, and they both came to rather grisly ends.



The Guild woman tapped her fingers apprehensively on the counter. Her agitation was not only due to the fact that she hated Hunters, but also that the counter itself bothered her. The Hunters Guild could afford to purchase lanconium counters, but not pay its workers a decent salary. Lanconium is an absurdly rare metal, though some theorize that the Lanconium mining industry is lying, and happen to be sitting on a massive storage of the metal somewhere. Others theorize that the former theorists are crackpots, and that Lanconium only comes from a legendary planet that no longer exists.

Nothing that Cyrus did in-between the conversation with the Guild woman and entering the transporter was particularly interesting. A government official did choke on a half dissolved mint after spotting Cyrus, but was somewhat fortunate to encounter an android that squeezed the offending candy out of him. The man was later hospitalized for 3 broken ribs and a bruised left femur.

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Solstis on 2005-08-13 12:54 ]</font>

[Sagasu]

lovely XD

It would appear that there is more of a plot this time around, or am I just imagining things? ;o

[Solstis]

Log 2: The Introduction of the Love Interest That Will Undoubtedly Fall in Love with the Hero by the End.

Error, Log 2 Not Found.

Ah, I have finally regained consciousness (Influenza takes it out of you) and edited the first Log. The Second Log will be finished most likely by tonight or tomorrow.

I promise not to snap at any critiques, though I must mention that my style is narrative heavy but nearly description free. I'm trying to develop that oh-so subtle way to explaining a character and a situation without obviously doing so. Empathetic writing?

[Elvendar]

Very amusing. Much reminiscent of King Canin's first fanfic (a suggested read, if you're interested.)

Wonderful oddball sort of thing you have going on here

[CupOfCoffee]

Hahaha, awesome. I'm sure you did it on purpose, but I suppose I'll point it out anyway that this story is very so long and thanks for all the fish, if you get what I mean.

I'll be reading, homey! Keep it up!

[Solstis]

Log 3: The Hero Inevitably Encounters Something Unexplainable

Cyrus materialized in the middle of a field of grey flowers with a stylish *Whoosh* and fluttering blue sparkles. As soon as he appeared, they turned around and began to laugh at him, their outstretched fingers mocking his...

Cyrus rapidly shook his head, blinked a few times, coughed up a fair amount of phlegm, and then took a second glance at his surroundings. He was in a teleporter room, which, by all appearances, was a small telephone booth.

Stepping outside of the red box, not noticing a small note taped to the side saying,

"Please Do Not Tip the Phone Booth"

Cyrus found himself in a field of large yellow flowers, which were by all accounts (mind: only his), very pretty, though he wished that they could reproduce without releasing pollen. The field was awash with floating yellow specks, his vision inconveniently blurred due to their nasty habit of landing on his exposed eyes.

He stooped down to sniff one, ignoring his protesting body, when he found that someone had adorned its surface with a smile. The three streaks were created with what he assumed to be a black felt-tip marker. The man was stunned when the flower opened its dotted eyes, which was quite a stretch for Cyrus's brain to comprehend, much less translate into a picture, and smirked.

Cyrus back pedaled away from the flower and bumped into the transporter booth. He looked down at the device strapped to his wrist, which was, by all appearances, a very fancy digital watch. It was, however, an EPC, also known as an "Expensive Piece of Crap." The origins of the EPC are complex, wild, and have caused the deaths of approximately 20 University students when discussed in a lecture 600 years ago. The EPC was the only item that Cyrus had to remind him of his past, though he did not particularly like it.

The EPC constantly collected data from its surroundings, and Cyrus had come to rely on it for occasionally useful information. Its light blue readout stated, 'The air is one degree shy of being comfortable' affirming Cyrus's third greatest fear of the moment.

He spun around and found what would have been his first greatest fear, if he had been aware that something like it could have even existed. It was a constantly shifting mass of coiling dark ropes, or as Cyrus mulled, a bulging pile of dark matter. Cyrus gaped at it, sincerely hoping that it would go away.
The matter pulsed rapidly for a moment before coalescing into a tall, shadowy figure.

"This is my home. What you see is an illusion. Your mind cannot comprehend the truth, and thus, it creates its own reality. Prepare to die."

Cyrus had never heard such stilted dialogue in his life, and was forced to recoil in horror at the figure's mere presence.

"I apologize if my manner of speaking reminds you of a common cliche. If I relied on my true understanding of grammatical structure, your brain would be unable to process the information, causing you do faint. Die."

Cyrus's attention was suddenly caught by something familiar to him. At that point, Cyrus would have hugged a rusty Android just for a piece of mind.
The EPC blinked for a few moments before scrolling a message on its surface. It had been set to translate any form of communication that Cyrus found confusing, and thus interpreted the shadowy form's speech into what it would consider to be proper dictation.

Cyrus passed out.

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Solstis on 2005-08-13 21:18 ]</font>

[Sagasu]

It seems even more distract than usual!

*talks to solly*

Okay, then its a very interesting vagueness. Though as it may stray from every principle you hold dear, I advise you to do otherwise.

If your going to tell a story, tell a story. Not test the limits of humor and verse. Err, thats makes little to no sense, but bear with me. It may not have ever been your intention to create a successful fiction with a story one can relate and find themselves enraptured to, but this has become a bit too incoherent for my tastes.

Not because I dislike the style itself. But that I do dislike the nothingness that is happening. Before there were gunfights with terribly comfortable handguns and luxury cruiseliners, at least enough to keep one absorbed in some sort of action. But for a forum, with updates far and few between, a crawling progress isnt about to get you anywhere.

Well, thats all vague in itself, but I think you understand the gist of what I'm saying. And more.