Updates and thoughts on the future

So many things have happened in the past several months.

The death of a close relative... Yes, I think I can reveal it now. The death of my father last year, which has taken a long time to push past and we're just now really getting back to normal. At least I know now what death's like close to. In one way, great. In another, why did I have to learn it that way?

Helping look after my sister's new dog, a border collie with a gigantic amount of personality. Between four and five months old now. From teething straight to teenage angst, dog version.

Doing the third editing/proofing run of the sci-fi story that I finished last year. I've been getting heartily tired of it. It's only the lead that's carrying me through, as I've had to do adjustments so many times to keep things consistent that any feelings for the other characters have worn thin. I know I'll have to double-check some sections on a fourth run, and by then I predict I'll be completely and utterly sick of the whole thing. Fingers crossed it gets published. Authors do get sick of their own stories, don't they.

A new story started. An interesting story based around Japanese folklore. It's only three or four "chapters" away from completion. Several false starts alongside that.

Remember that story I mentioned in the last update based on "We Purchased People"? Well, I did show it off and it got lots of laughter and a round of applause at the reading event I took it to. I hope to get it published somewhere. If I can't manage that, you'll be able to read it here.

Generally, I think I've done remarkably well in regards to my writing given what I've had to cope with. This is also why some elements of my blogging have been flagging in places. I hope my readers will understand.

Short story – Tripartite Conflict

From the bridge of the Dreadnought-class airship Seraph Ascended, Commander Kyle watched as a pocket of dissidents was wiped from existence by the efficient hand of his Black Pike unit, led by his greatest general. In black combat armour, his face hidden by a helmet carved to resemble both angel and demon, Archangel’s combat blade cut down any who escaped the rifle fire of his commandos. The cleansing soon ended, and Commander Kyle waited for Archangel to return to the bridge. When he did, the Commander’s orders were sharp and clear.

‘Another dissident group has been discovered. We have failed to eliminate them with conventional tactics. They have the support of Lucifer. You will track Lucifer down and bring him and the Apostate in alive.’

Archangel nodded slowly. It was his duty to obey, and obey he did. As he left, another figure stepped from a shadowed corner.

‘Are you prepared for the next step? There is no turning back.’

‘Yes, Charmiene. You may alert our agents. Prepare Armageddon.’

‘And should it fail?’

‘We have other means of securing our victory. As you should known very well by now. Soon the Twelve Wings will be clipped, and peace restored before war ever came to deface our world.’

***

‘You’ve got it?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got it. Good luck, Lovely.’

Carlos ‘Lucifer’ Jones kissed his fellow Twelve Wings member Mabel ‘Apostate’ Samson passionately as he primed his gun. The refugees were ready to run for the transport while their saviour created a distraction. After a few minutes, Carlos leapt out into the sunlight and fired his twin machine pistols. The bolts of energy flashed and nine out of the fifteen nearby patrolling units were killed.

As the refugees ran for the disguised transport in a nearby shipping container, Mabel glanced back to see Carlos dodging fire from the surviving soldiers and shooting them down one by one. Soon they would be free. She picked up a child who stumbled and fell, heaving them over the few trip hazards into the arms of another fleeing dissident to reach the transport. The sound of gunfire behind her ended abruptly, and she turned to see Carlos holstering his guns.

‘It’s over.’ he said simply.

Mabel felt her pulse quicken. He always managed to arouse her with the simplest phrases. Soon they would all escape from this accursed City. Even the Seraph Ascended wouldn’t be able to keep up with them. They could reach the Southern Continent, far away from the City, start anew, and eventually...

‘Eventually,’ she muttered. ‘I shall cease to be Apostate, and become Messiah.’

The transport hummed and backed out of the container, and Mabel and Carlos watched as it quickly swung round and rushed up into the air. Then a familiar sonic boom shook the air, and a A-type RPG rushed over them and struck the transport’s engine coils. There was a shuddering sound, then the engine died and the transport plummeted. They were at the edge of the City, so Mabel could only watch in horror as the refugees were plunged into the sea a mile below. She turned, and saw an Armageddon mech standing atop one of the container piles.

‘Get to the Ziplane!’ Carlos drew his weapons. ‘I’ll deal with this!’

Mabel didn’t argue as her lover began his run towards the mech. Her head was tearing itself apart with grief, but Carlos’s commanding tone overrode even despair. She ran, her heart pounding.

Carlos quickly dodged side to side as a volley of rapid fire came from the mech’s shoulder-mounted guns. He aimed his grappling line and felt the sharp recoil on his arm as the line was launched across and up. It struck the container metal beneath where the mech stood, and yanked Carlos up at blurring speed. The mech strafed backwards and aimed its weapons again, but Carlos fired at it in mid-flight, forcing it to readjust its aiming sensors. It was the delay he needed. He grabbed the edge of the container, vaulted up, then took a sticky grenade from where it rested against his belt and flung it.

The grenade hit and stuck to the front of the Armageddon mech, and as Carlos leapt down the stack of containers he felt the powerful EMP explosion. There was a groaning noise as control motors inside the mech’s legs malfunctioned, then an almighty crash as it pitched backwards over the edge. Carlos landed hard on the concrete floor of the dock, but recovered quickly and joined Mabel on the square Ziplane platform. Mabel punched in their desired area code and the platform began its smooth journey alone the metal transport line connecting each sector of the City’s border areas.

They were soon passing over the edges of the industrial sector, and came within view of the vast sea. Mabel gripped the speed controls tight enough to make her knuckles blanch.

‘Why?’ Mabel’s voice was shaking, ‘Why did they have to shoot it down?’

‘Bastards.’ Carlos recharged his weapons with extra vigour, ‘We’ll show them when we reach the Southern Sanctuary.’

‘What’s the point? How many transports have we sent there? And how many got shot down? You’d think there was a mole. But we’re the only two members of Angelus left. I’d never betray my own cause, and you–’

‘I’ll never forgive them for what they did.’ Carlos’s voice was impassioned, ‘And we haven’t lost everything. Not all the transports were lost. Some made it to Sanctuary. And the City can’t reach this entire planet. We’ll get out, and rebuild. Please, Mabel, don’t give up hope.’

Carlos kissed her, melting her anxiety. ‘Yes.’ she was once more enthralled to his vigour, ‘Yes, yes, yes. We’ll survive, and conquer.’

It was then that a fighter jet appeared. The small type for transporting single infantry units. As the two watched it approach, the black armoured figure on its underside detached and fell towards them.

***

Archangel landed on the Ziplane platform with an impact which bent the metal beneath his booted feet. Slowly rising from his crouched landing position, he took in Mabel and Carlos. The last two survivors of the dissident group known as the Twelve Wings. As he spoke, his voice was warped into a genderless noise by the vocal distortion unit in his helmet.

‘Lucifer and Apostate, you are to surrender and submit to arrest by Archangel of the City Defence Force. Resist, and I shall have to use physical force.’

Carlos stepped forward, brandishing his weapons. ‘I’m not submitting to a dog of the government. Try your worse.’

‘Very well. I am now authorised to use physical force.’

Carlos and Archangel clashed. As Mabel controlled the the Ziplane platform, she saw their duel unfold. Even with Archangel’s advantage of armour, it was an equal match between the Twelve Wing member and the City agent. There was a final crushing blow from either side, and each stumbled back. Carlos landed hard against the control panel, while Archangel teetered on the edge above an induction trench for one of the water treatment plants. Carlos drew his gun and shot once at Archangel’s chest. The armoured soldier was thrown off balance and fell from the platform, vanishing into the dark below.

At least, he seemed to. In a last second manoeuvre, Archangel reached up and grabbed the edge of the platform, pulling himself up and clinging on like a fly to a ceiling. He listened and prayed they wouldn’t look. They didn’t. They were more focused on escaping than checking to see if the so-called “Immortal soldier” was truly dead.

The Ziplane platform was rounding one of the sector’s large waste recycling plants when its runner wheels seized. The platform swung up to a sharp angle, nearly throwing off both passengers and stowaway. The air shuddered with the sound of a loud speaker.

‘Dissident agents, you will remain where you are and wait for a patrol craft to pick you up and bring you to the Seraph Ascended!’

Carlos primed his weapons once more. ‘Like hell you will!’

The small patrol crafts that arrived were no match to the determination and skill of the cornered Lucifer. His guns fired in a volley which brought all down, and their engines screamed in despair as they fell towards the buildings below. The platform began moving once Mabel had hacked the controls, and soon they were cruising towards their destination.

‘Nearly there.’ Carlos gripped his lover’s hand, ‘Nearly there.’

Then the platform detached from its runner, and began its fall. Mabel let out a scream, but Carlos grabbed her and shot his grappling line at a nearby scaffolding tower supporting the Ziplane. They whistled through the air and landed lightly on a crossbeam. Their unseen passenger likewise escaped, launching himself like a black shadow and clinging to one of the diagonal beams.

Carlos and Mabel stood there for some time, then another two-person maintenance craft approached to inspect the anomalous jettisoning of a Ziplane platform. Carlos grappled across, killed them both, and then guided the craft down to pick Mabel up. They jetted off directly towards their destination, and Archangel watched them. He then summoned his own private craft, jumped on it and sailed after them like a black bird stalking its prey. He also sent off an update signal to Commander Kyle.

“Flies approaching. Time for spider’s web.”

The transmission was acknowledged, and Archangel nodded. Yes, the flies were approaching. But they would be caught in a different web.

***

When they landed at C Shuttle Port, Carlos and Mabel were met with a few ill-prepared soldiers who fell to Carlos’s superior skill. They ran at full speed for one of the small military fighter planes which would carry them to the Southern Continent and freedom. Then the sniper shot rang out, and Mabel felt her arm being struck by a frag bullet. She faltered, screaming despite herself. Carlos spotted each of the snipers and fired off his weapons, taking them all down.

They still ran, leaving a line of blood drops from Mabel’s shattered arm. A prosthetic could replace it, but for the moment the flow needed staunching. Carlos, with a grimace, used a blast from his weapon to cauterise the wound, leaving Mabel with a blackened stump where her proud and beautiful arm had been. She gritted her teeth and took it, then looked at her lover with a smile. They would endure, even through this greatest onslaught.

They burst into the hanger, and a small battalion stood waiting for them. Mabel ducked into cover while watching Carlos avoid and return fire, dancing like a ghost between and under shots to deliver swift death to any who stood before him. The air grew hot and stank of plasma discharge. Finally all the soldiers were dead, and the two headed for the small hanger where their freedom waited. The door opened, and they froze.

‘Welcome.’ Commander Kyle stood there between six heavy armoured commandos, with his advisor Charmiene behind him to his left and Archangel behind and to the right. ‘I’m pleased you made it. We were beginning to think you wouldn’t come.’

‘Tyrant!’ Carlos aimed his weapons at Kyle, ‘You think you’ll get away from here alive?’

‘Isn’t that what you said the last five times?’ Charmiene’s soft voice cut like a blade, ‘Strange. All those times our Commander was cornered, and you failed to land the final blow. But undaunted, the Twelve Wings fought on as their numbers dwindled and their ringleader became more desperate. Poisoning an entire sector’s water supply to kill one man? Even I would not stoop that low.’

Mabel grimaced. ‘We’re fighting for the freedom of all. Sacrifices are necessary. Carlos, my love, kill him!’

‘Oh that’s how you control him.’ Archangel spoke now, ‘Pathetic. Such emotional ties are too easily broken. Unless you’ve got something so strong that you’re in bondage to the cost of your soul and mind.’

‘I believe in freedom! Mabel, this is for you!’

The commandos stepped forward, but Carlos ducked and weaved, shooting each in the head. He aimed at Commander Kyle, then froze. Commander Kyle stepped forward and placed a hand on Carlos’s gun, pulling it gently from his grasp.

‘You’ve done well, Carlos. Command; Everyman. Stand down. Now, Mabel Samson, alias the Apostate, it’s time for the Twelve Wings to step down permanently.’

Mabel looked at the frozen figure of Carlos, then to Kyle. ‘Wh.... what’s happening? What’ve you done to him?’

‘It’s time to end the charade, my dear.’ said Charmiene, ‘The only reason the Twelve Wings existed was because we encouraged it. What better way to flush out dissidents than create somewhere for them to gather. And what better means of generating such a group than creating a hero struggling against the system. All those atrocities you witnessed were quite expertly staged. All of our “victims” are alive and well, and free of your poisonous influence.’ she turned to Carlos and her tone became sharp and commanding, ‘Hear me. Command; Armageddon.’

Carlos took the gun from Kyle, turned and aimed at Mabel. She staggered back, unable to understand what she saw or heard. A shot rang out, and Carlos collapsed on his front, a scorched hole in the back of his head. Both the Commander and Charmiene spun round in surprise. Archangel was standing with a gun similar in design to Carlos’s, its barrel still glowing from the single shot it had fired.

‘Archangel, explain yourself!’ Kyle’s voice was angry.

Archangel’s reply was to reach up and loose his helmet seals, then pull the object away from his face. Mabel let out an involuntary scream. Carlos’s face stared out from Archangel’s suited form.

‘I’ve done with your farce. Time for payback.’

There was a blast of laser fire, and the Commander was thrown back, his head almost entirely blown apart. Charmiene smiled.

‘So your true colours show at last. Excellent! But look at her.’ she gestured to where Mabel stared, ‘She still doesn’t know what’s happening. My dear, this whole scheme was to bring people like you to the surface and break them. There’s no sanctuary on the Southern Continent. It was all a hoax, meant to lure the credulous and rebellious out into the open where they could do no harm. Your precious “Carlos” was a clone of Archangel, with all essential elements intact aside from his memory.’

Mabel could barely speak. ‘All....fake?’

‘Yes, indeed. We even shifted his sexuality so he could fall under your sway. That’s how you really kept the Twelve Wings together, isn’t it?’

‘But....why....Commander–’

‘Kyle’s death was entirely unscripted.’ Charmiene looked at Archangel, ‘I had hoped to wrest power from him gradually, not see him killed without warning. I’m waiting for your explanation.’

Archangel pointed his own weapon at Charmiene. ‘Didn’t you ever question what happened to the civilian members of our little charades? Why they never made any complaints, wanted further clarification? It’s because they got out. When the City’s eye was elsewhere, I set them free. There is a Southern sanctuary, Charmiene. Your myth’s become reality, and it lies where you’ll never find it. I’ve been playing you this whole time.’

‘NO!’ Mabel suddenly screamed and picked up one of Carlos’s guns with her free hand, ‘You’re all lying! You’re trying to drive me insane. I’ll kill you both, and this world’ll be free of you.’

‘I think I had best eliminate both of you.’ Charmiene drew a weapon of her own from inside her sleeve, ‘This has gone on long enough. I’ll have a convincing narrative for the City Government when they learn of this.’

The three surviving figures aimed their guns at each other. All fired at once, and all dodged, although Archangel’s bolt sliced into Mabel’s chin. The fire fight seemed endless, with several patches on the wall glowing from laser impacts. The fire drew nearby soldiers to investigate the disturbance, not knowing of the true meaning behind the firefight. When they arrived, it was all over. A figure emerged from the heat haze to greet them. The guards were shocked at the figure’s identity, and at the words they spoke which heralded the end of their struggles.

‘It’s over. We can rebuild now.’

Author's Note: This story was written based on a silly premise, from a wish to be silly. It's a light bit of fluff that should not be taken as anything other than light reading for a Sunday. It's basically a chaotic short narrative, stripped of wider context by its length and nature as a codicil to a longer series of events. I didn't even bother to make the dialogue that convincing. It's over-the-top and stylised in so many ways. And I don't mind in the least...

Feedback updates

Feedback. I've already gone into it, but you've no idea how nerve-wracking it can be to have someone else looking at you WIP. It can wither the nerves and castrate the soul to think of your poor draft manuscript being scrutinised by someone who you don't know. What if they dissect and vivisect the entire principle you've built the text on? What if they're too distracted by the unpolished prose to actually give you the feedback you need? It's hell, I tell you!

The feedback was generally positive, aside from one section, which very clearly highlighted what cultural differences can do to something. The scene was about one character fending off another who was being controlled by the "antagonist" of that story. Now, my story is based on Japanese culture and folklore, and that kind of innuendo-based humour is quite common there. But it's also something that the Western world will rightly not tolerate; sexual harassment.

To quote from the beta reader's email feedback to me; "My one other comment would be to say that reading the controlled guard sexually harassing the kitsune was pretty uncomfortable to read as a woman. I didn't really find that funny and while I do appreciate that this kind of comedy is often present in Jpop culture it isn't something I would like to encourage. Perhaps there could be another source of distraction for the kitsune from this controlled guard? Maybe he is mega handsome? Maybe it's a beautiful woman her who engages the kitsune in a conversation about how rubbish it is that that cop keeps staring at her and they can share a joke about him doing something weird? I dunno I leave that in your hands but I couldnt in good conscience not give my 2p on that point."

You'll be pleased to know that I never felt very comfortable with that section, but with some solid feedback I was able to rethink it. It still has the conclusion where said guard is thrown into the water by my protagonist, but the sexual element has been entirely removed. Instead, I decided to send up those interminable shonen scenes where two characters will fight each other for no other reason than....it's good to fight? I find those scenes as tiresome as the borderline or outright harassment present in anime that I was sending up previously. But with this feedback, I can improve not only this story, but my future writing. It's given me impetus to truly consider what aspects of culture I want to emulate and satirise, and what are perhaps too hot for - to quote Bleak Expectations - "these moral times".

Sort of separate from that, I hope people won't be entirely put off attempting to create stories around controversial subjects. The world needs them. Without them, we'll slide backwards in our awareness of them. Just blanking out the nastiness doesn't take it away. It makes if fester and adapt. It needs to be confronted in the open, through the best lens possible; fiction.