Chainsword Trilogy - Chainsword


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12/20/2011 14:57:22

ChainSword
Member

Chainsword Trilogy

Part 1

Chainsword
( Discussion )

Chapter 1

Darkness.
Heavy rain.

Several years after this story begins, in empty city, at empty, kind of narrow street, surrounded by tall, practically identical buildings that rise towards the sky, two men are walking towards each other. It is kind of dark, and it rains heavily. It might be dawn or morning, or perhaps dark clouds just block almost all the sunlight. It is not relevant.

They are approximately 300 feet away, both walking towards each other.
One of them is clearly a young man, probably about 25 years old. He has dark, kind of short hair, just short enough to not cover his eyes, even in heavy rain like this. He's not wearing a hat.
He has long, white leather jacket, and pants of the same color. Not white as snow. More a shade of grey. In the back of his jacket, there is an odd symbol of star that has six points.
He's not wearing gloves.
In his both hands, he is carrying two unsheathed katanas. Strangely enough, he doesn't seem to have sheaths to either of them, yet they still seem to be in perfect condition.

250 feet.

Based on the other person's body structure, he seems to be man, but it's impossible to say for sure. It's too dark and rainy to see more details about this person, one exluded:
He's carrying huge, perhaps 4-5-feet sword in his left shoulder. With one glance, it's obvious that it's two-handed sword. Even still, it seems a bit too heavy, big, and inconvenient to use. Whoever forged it must have had a good reason to make it like that.
...Were there... spikes? on the back of it's blade?

200 feet.

"Things tend to work out in the end."

175 feet.

"Good friend of mine used to say that. A lot."

140 feet.

"It's kind of ironic, really..."

120 feet.

"It's been years since I last saw him, and heard him say that..."

95 feet.

"...And ever since, my things have mostly gone towards hell."

70 feet.

Both men stopped. The one with two katanas said something. The other person responded with words not to be heard nor known by us just yet. Katana man tightened his grip and took battle stance.

"But now..."

The other person still just stood there quietly.

"For the first time in years, I've been driven to situation that I cannot win."

The other person raised his huge sword from his shoulder, then took his own battle stance.

"If I lose this fight, I die, no doubt..."

Neither one of them moved. Whatever their reason to fight, it was obvious that neither one wanted to solve it by talking.

Darkness.
Heavy rain.

"...But if I win, I lose my last reason to live."

"For the first time in years..."

"I'm truly afraid."

"Good."

< Message edited by ChainSword -- 12/30/2011 16:44:07 >

AQW

Post #: 1

12/20/2011 18:14:12

ChainSword
Member

Chapter 2

Several years earlier. Same city, only this time the city is far from abandoned. The city is located in northern part of the continent, at huge, weather shore, which, while not being that ideal for spending your holidays -excluding few hottest months of summer- provides perfect conditions for shipping cargo -and people- across the world. In few decades, this city has become one of the capitals of trading on northern side of the globe. It's no wonder that hundreds of thousands people live here.

In this buzzling metropolis, few miles from the docks, in the ghetto, there was a teenage boy, probably 17-20 years old, walking on a narrow street, listening music from his headphones. The boy had white, yet relatively well-tannned skin, long, black hair, and dark brown eyes.

Walking slowly. His headphones played music that made him recall things which had never happened to him. While remaining quiet, the boy continued his journey. While not exactly going anywhere, but rather just spending time on this cloudy evening, he still hoped for something -anything- to happen. Anything to give even moment's distraction of this everyday treadmill.

Wind brushed his hair while he walked through the ghetto. Coming from middle-class family, one would think a ghetto to be a dangerous place, but he had lived at the edge of this area and "better part" of the city his whole life, and he had made most of his friends from this part, so he was known enough in these streets to walk safely around. Make no mistake, there is valid reason for ghettos to be considered dangerous, but knowing your way around can be better life-insurance than any gun -or other weapon- in this kind of place.

Things hadn't been always like now, though. Even though he had been a young boy at those days, he could tell apart childhood's nostalgia of things that really were better back then. While this part of the city had been kind of poor his whole life, the whole city had changed along with this area during his childhood. Granted, after docks were built and the city started concentrating to shipping cargo to, and from, everywhere in the world, it quickly grew much larger, but at the same time, it caused few close-by factories to shut down their business, driving lots of families without work. Add huge new shopping center not more than 4 miles away to that equation, and the area quickly got a lot more quieter and impoverished. "I can't believe it!", the boy had thought more than few times. "How can an area only a few miles from the biggest trade center in 1000 freaking miles be this poor!?"

Anger had increased. With business -and money- leaving the area, poverty had replaced it. With that, it's obvious that anger is born, especially with the younger generation.
Gangs. Endless fighting over the rulership of these streets. Streets that had no real value to them. With few practically identical gangs, fighting over somethin with no real value, what is the point in that?

Excitement and glory, perhaps?

Fighting. Perhaps it doesn't require reason, the boy thought. Gangwars, while smal by comparison, are basically not different of real wars. In both, people die and dreams cease to be. But still, adrenaline and glory play in both. Fighting for your life, even without good cause, gives you feeling of being alive, and a story you will never forget.

While he though he comprehended (or at least assumed to) the reasons for these fights, the boy still thought it to be a sad life. Of course, he had grown up in a different family, in a different life, but he still would never want to live like that. Granted, it would be far from everyday's rat race he despised, but fighting for nothing was not his path. Everyday in danger of being beaten up or shot to death? Over no real ideal or reason? NO.

He had a dream. He wanted to leave this city, perhaps this country. Travel the world. Leave to the next place on the same day you decide to leave. Walk small roads over hills and mountains. Start conversations with anyone who has time to stop and sit down. Listen to ambituous music while wind blows. Travel with wind and rain.

Those were the dreams in his heart. Earning just enough cash everyday to be able to live like that is what he wanted at the time. And the fact that those dreams weren't out of reach; That living like that really could be possible for him, and even in near future: That is what kept his hopes high and head up in the grey world that is called everyday.

It had started to rain, and wind blowing from bay not far from where he was raised his spirit. He loved this kind of weather. While others started opening their umbrellas, he smiled, and kept walking. Rain and wind on his skin gave him the feeling of being alive.

He had walked to the dock. Leaning towards fence, he watched the bay, and everything that was going on there. Few small boats sailing around, perhaps fishing. Ship on the horizon, leaving to who knows where. At other direction, some people -tourists, probably- trying to start beach season, only to realize it's starting to rain.
And even further, few people waveboarding, dancing with waves and spring wind. In this weather, it wouldn't even be necessary to use wind- or water-magic. Most awesome hobby ever.

Yet still, his mind grew dark. He started to think abut his family, and his childhood, when his parents were happy and together.
His father, who abandoned his mother, that man's wife.
His mother, who died in accident few years after that.
The judge who gave his father his custody again, against his own will and request.
His stepmother, kind and sympathic woman, who, despite his father's drinking problem, still hadn't left him, for whatever reason.
How he and his stepmother pretty much held the family together.

That was the life he had been forced to take. Without asking his opinion, his custody had been returned to that man he no longer respected.

His, and his little sister's.

Miranda

The boy's little sister, Miranda. Woman he loved more than any other person in the whole world.

Ever since she was born, the boy had decided it to be any elder brother's responsibility to protect his younger brothers and sisters. Furthermore, ever since their mother died, he had understood that it would be his duty to raise and take care of his sister. He would not allow his twisted father to raise her. She was not allowed to become like him. He loved Miranda too much to even consider giving his father a chance to do that.

Who knows, perhaps things would have been different if he would have forgiven his father those years ago. After all, their mother was his ex-wife, woman he had once loved, and now he had to take reponsibility of raising his kids. With forgiveness and acceptance of his son, perhaps it would have been enough to cast bottle aside for good, and raise him back to be the father he should have been.

But the boy never forgave him.
The way he saw it, his father had betrayed him when he left his wife and kids. With that hatred in his heart, he never gave his father chance to "redeem" himself and be his father again. Never opening up for him, never showing kindness: Maybe that was enough to prevent his dad from winning his fight against alcohol.
Which one was more to blame of this broken family's situation?
Both?
Neither?

And so, with those thoughts in his mind and heart, he continued his everyday life. On one side of scale, his hatred towards his father, and all the problems with the city around him.
On the other side, his dreams, his hope of better future, future he wanted for himself.
And his love for his sister.

< Message edited by ChainSword -- 1/5/2012 11:32:33 >

AQW

Post #: 2

12/23/2011 15:50:05

ChainSword
Member

Chapter 3

Earlier that day...

It was end of May, and summer vacation would start in few days. For the boy, however, it would mean more than just few months of laying back and swimming, then on last week of said vacation, writing some cliché essay of "What did I do on summer, besides laying back and swimming, then writing this?"
For him, the High School would be over.
No more school ever again.

I can guess what you are probably thinking: Graduating from High School would be totally awesome. Not only you'd never again have to sit on those boring classes, trying to learn things you don't believe you'll ever need in life, and eating that infamous school food nobody likes, but you'd also be old enough to do whatever you want, and you'd only answer to yourself.

I'm not saying that that's wrong way to think.
But it is naïve and lacks perspective.

The boy's school was on "better" area of city, not that far from beach. The boy often took longer route from school to home in order to take a moment to watch what was going on in bay, and to think all kinds of things.
School itself was far from best one in city, and the boy could have made it in better one, but he had his personal reasons to settle with that one.
Gymnastic aside, classes were mostly focused on theory on most subjects, rather than practical tests and alternative teaching methods. In subjects such as math and different languages it isn't that big of a deal, but with subjects such as physic, chemistry, art, and even music, it obviously wasn't enough to give best potential education. The boy had knack in math, physic and philosophy, and managed fair in gymnastic, and was calm and smart enough to respect his teachers and not get in trouble in schoolgrounds because of that.

The building itself wasn't much to look at. Surrounded by taller office buildings and whatnot, this concrete cube (irksomely accurate nickname) with windows on all sides didn't exactly do honor to neither it's surroundings nor motivation to enthusiastic studying. At least the courtyard, although fenced, had some trees and lawn, lots of places for bicycles, and some tables to eat and spend time.
The roof of the house was fenced with high metal fence, and didn't have much reason to visit. While it wasn't neither against the rules nor discouraged, and while teachers didn't really care where students spent their free time as long as they were in class in time, it wasn't popular place among students, due to the fact that there were nothing in there, and the views from there weren't much to look at.
The fact that nobody ever visited the roof made it the boy's favourite spot. The roof was high enough from ground in order for sounds from ground to not bother spending time there, plus the roof was much windier than ground.

It was end of May, and summer vacation would start in few days. For the boy, however, it would mean more than just few months of laying back and swimming, then on last week of said vacation, writing some cliché essay of "What did I do on summer, besides laying back and swimming, then writing this?"
For him, the High School would be over.
No more school ever again.

He was standing at the roof's edge, looking down at schoolgrounds and surrounding streets, observing everything going on. Last classes had ended few moments later, and hundreds of boys and girls were rushin home from school, most obviously cheerful, happy and exited about coming summer vacation.
The boy sighed silently, looking up in the sky. In this world coloured by different shades of gray, at least sky provided one extra color he liked. Out of all the places in school, this was definitely-
"What'cha doing here, ***?"
The boy's moment of peace was suddenly interrupted by familiar voice. So familiar, in fact, that he responded with silence, and didn't even turn around to look at the visitor's face. The other boy didn't seem to mind.
"I figured I'd find you from here, ***. Come on, let's get going already!"
"..."
"Come on! Why so serious? Last day in school is over in 10 minutes ago, and graduation's this weekend! How come you're-"
"...Mike." The boy interrupted.

Michael Abel Bradley.
Ever since these two boys had met each other several years ago, they'd became best friends, sharing everything worth sharing -be it secrets, toys, worries, or anything in-between- and watching each other's backs when in trouble. It certainly was pleasant surprise for Mike to find himself in same highschool with his best friend, even though he knew that he could have gotten to better place to study.
He had white skin, dark red eyes, and just long enough golden hair to cover them if he wanted to. He was one of the best at most sports in his agegroup, and seemed like someone who would have knack for martial arts. He was also more popular among girls than his friend, but he was kind and warm person, who respected everyone, as long as others didn't decide to not like him. Not many that stable and polite kids come from ghetto, and there was obviously something very right with his family and way he was raised.

"...What?" Mike said, while his voice got more serious tone.
"...I'm..." the boy started, then stopped, hesitating to continue. Mike responded with silence, waiting for his friend to continue.
"...I'm sort of... afraid."

"...Afraid? What do you mean?" Mike said, now with more serious voice, knowing well enough when to stop being too cheery, and to focus on what is to come.
"It's just that... I don't know what to do." The boy stood silent for few seconds, staring into distance from the roof. This was not to make dramatic pause, or in attempt to look cool -there was no need for that between two best friends-; he just wanted few seconds to think how to catch his thoughts and pin them down to words, and understanding that, Mike didn't break that silence.
"Like you said" the boy continued "School will end this week. No more studying ever again, but instead work and preparing to independent life." He gazed down to schoolyard, where some students were still leaving.
"While some of the graduates are bit sad to leave this phase of life behind, losing connection to some of their friends, they're still happy to start living their big plan -life- they have built in their head for years."
The boy raised his head to look at he sky, and kept another silent second, as if to ask "Do you not agree?" By now, Mike had full grasp of what he was talking about, and knew what he was about to say next.
"But I do not have that plan."

"I don't know what can I do with my future, Mike. I don't know whether I should study few more years, or find work now. I don't know where I want to move and live. I don't even know if I want that kind of life. I'm not even confident have these past few years of studying been useful to me."
"I just... don't know what can I do next."
"I see." Mike said, before he could continue talking.
"You keep talking about what you "can" do, what you "want" to do." Mike quickly grasped this little detail from the boy's words.
"You're afraid of moving forward. Afraid that what you are is not enough to manage. That your abilities aren't on same scale with your dreams."
"Am I wrong?"

They both stood there, silent, for few seconds, while the boy was taking his friend's words in, and Mike waiting for his friend to do that.
"You're sort of right", he responded "But not really, no. There is more to it than that."
The boy took deep breath in, then out.
"Perhaps I should rephrase that a little" he started. "Of course I have dreams. It's not that I don't know what I want to do, and it's not that I'm afraid to put my abilities to test while fulfilling those dreams."
"It's just... I cannot chase those dreams yet. I can't leave my home, or this city yet. Not in few more years. Not as long as he is here."
Again, noticing little details, Mike uderstood. So this was still about him.
"So this is also about him?" He said. "Your grudge still runs that deep?"
"I have all right to that!" boy said with angry tone, then immediately dropped back to calm and collected "But even more importantly, I cannot leave, and leave her behind with him.

Mike knew exacty how much boy hated his father. Being his oldest friend, he had been there for him when his father left them, and when the boy's mother died. While he didn't think of the boy's father as hatefully as the boy did, but rather in more neutral way, he understood the boy's hatred. But even more importantly, he knew how much the boy loved his little sister. He knew her, and how pure and -while not naïve and helpless- innocent angel she was, and understood why the boy wouldn't allow his father to "ruin" her, or even give chance to. Granted, child can grow bit twisted when her older brother shows no kindness to their father, and doesn't let his sister get to know her dad properly, but after years of trying to get his friend to rethink his attitude, with little to no result, Mike didn't have motivation to try to alter his friend's life that drastically anymore.

After such strong words, anyone would expect there to be moment of silence in conversation, but instead, Mike continued almost instantly.
"There's nothing new I can tell you, ***." he said. His voice had moved back to that cheerful, yet still serious tone.
"You've been my best pal for years, so out of everyone besides you, I should know what kind of person you're like, and what you're capable of. I know that you're able to handle whatever you allow life to throw at you, but it's you who must first allow, and then overcome those obstacles."
"Mike..." Boy started, only to be interrupted.
"I know just how much you love yor sister" Mike started, shocking the boy with his direct approach "And there is nothing wrong with waiting few more years in order to protect and raise her" he continued "But it is your duty to decide are you going to stay here until both you and she can start your own lives."
Boy stood silent, taking the words in.
"I can't give you any decisions, ***, but I can give you word of advice, so I will." Mike continued.
"Pushing your own dreams aside in order to protect someone else is huge and extremely hard thing to do. If you can do that for someone -anyone, and for years, even-, then, after that, you will have no problem making your own dreams come true."
"Things tend to work out in the end, ***. Things tend to work out in the end."

That was Mike's closing statement. With that, the boy knew his friend had said all he was gonna say. The boy smiled, knowing how good friend he had.
"Heh. I can't argue with that, Mike. You sure have knack for knowing what to say."
"It's because I've known you for years, I know how you think. Are you saying you don't know me as well as I know you?"
"Touché. I suppose you're right again."
They both smiled.
"Now that that's over, are you gonna come down from here anytime soon?"
"...Yeah. Give me few minutes. You go ahead."
"Don't catch a cold. Spring wind is mischievous."
With that, Mike turned around, walked towards the stairs leading down from the roof, and closed the door behind him. Without once seing each others' faces, their conversation was over.

The boy stood there another minute, thinking. Then he turned around, and started walking towards the door.

"My name is Samuel H. Caine. I am the protagonist of this story."

After two steps, he noticed piece of concrete that had cracked off of the roof. It was small enough piece to fit on palm.

"I am 19 years old student, about to graduate from this school, about to start my life."

He kneeled down, grabbing the piece of stone, observing it few seconds. Then, suddenly, threw it towards the door with force.

"I'm not the smartest kid in school, or otherwise important person. Compared to any other kid here, there is nothing special about me."

"Excluding"

In an blink of an eye, he disappeared from sight, and in next blink, appeared in front of the door, 50 feet away from the place he had stood no less than 1 second ago. He caught the stone before it hit him.

"..."

He looked at the stone, then the place he had stood few seconds ago, then back at the stone. Then he dropped it, turned around, and walked downstairs, closing the door behind him.

"My name is Samuel H. Caine. This the story of how I lost and abandoned everything I had."

< Message edited by ChainSword -- 2/15/2012 12:41:39 >

AQW

Post #: 3

1/7/2012 18:55:46

ChainSword
Member

Chapter 5, part 1

"...I don't remember falling asleep."
By biting his tongue gently, yet hard enough to inflict pain, Sam convinced himself to be awake now. His eyes still closed, based on the pressure on his body and position of his head, he figured to be lying on his back, his arms spread wide, on soft surface. Probably -hopefully- in his own bed.
All this immediately after waking up, without moving or opening his eyes.

Sam had practiced Tae-Kwon-Do for few years now, so besides of training his body to fight and take hits in order to stand his ground, he had also trained his mind to always be aware of his surroundings on every situation, no matter how unusual (or how ordinary). Even on the second you wake up, before even opening your eyes. He was definitely getting pretty good at it.

After grasping basics of the situation, Sam opened his eyes. What he saw was white ceiling. Based on amount of light, it was probably around noon. The room smelled clean and fresh.
This wasn't his room. He had no idea where he was.

If after 4 seconds of waking up you're able to think clearly enough to understand that you're in your own home, in your own bed, then you can be proud of your sharp mind, no doubt about that.
However, if after 4 seconds you're able to clearly understand that you woke up in unknown place, in unknown bed, there should be voice in your head saying that everything isn't all right right now. Sam was no different.

Having his mind trained well enough, Sam didn't jump up, panicking. While staring to the ceiling, he tried to move his right hand. It moved normally.
"Right hand moves.", he thought. Next, left hand. It moved just fine. Right foot. Left foot. Right arm. Left arm.
World of pain in his left shoulder forced him to close his eyes and drop his arm back to bed. After few years of getting kicked and bruised, he knew what would cause such pain.
"Left arm is probaly broken. I hope I'm in hospital right now."

To wake up in unknown place, not remembering how you ended up there, to find out your arm is broken, and still be calm enough to not even rise from the bed. Sam had some mental training behind him...
Remaining calm, he slowly turned his head to right, then to left. He saw that almost his whole left arm was in cast.
"Neck seems to be fine. And yes, I'm definitely in hospital."

For awhile, Sam didn't bother shouting for anyone to come to explain to him what was going on. Based on sounds of steps and talking behind his room's door, people were busy enough without him distracting them. He figured that if his situation would be that critical, there would be either someone watching him all the time, or at least more frequently. As long as he didn't feel hungry or in need to go to bathroom, he could as well wait, trying to remember what caused him to wake up in hospital.
What struck him odd, however, was that nobody from his family was there to see him. Didn't they know about his condition, or was there something else going on?

"Ah, afternoon, young man. Have you been awake for long?"
It had been probably half hour or so before first person entered the room. The man had white coat, square-like glasses and short, brown hair. Exactly what you'd assume doctor to look like, and as nice little bonus, the man had calm look on his face, and he smiled a little. Either the man had learned to have calming expression in front of his patients in order to unnerve the situation, or then he wasn't in that bad condition, broken arm excluded, Sam figured. Either way, man's calming attitude worked.

"Probably half hour or so. I found it bit odd that the room doesn't have clock in it, doctor...?"
"Dr. Samuel Cross. As for clock, most people with their own room would either call nurse first thing they wake up to know where they are and what time is it, or see it from that TV." Cross said, waving his hand at TV's direction. Sam was thinking of saying something like "I'm not your average person", but figured that it could be bad idea to start talking sarcastically to this seemingly nice doctor. He could misunderstand, or get offended.
"I meant no disrespect, Dr. Cross. Still, be that as it may, would you mind telling what time is it?"
"None taken. You're Samuel Caine, correct?"
"...How do you know?" Sam said, immediately realizing stupidity in that question. Obviously, if he had been taken to hospital without him knowing it, hospital staff had checked his ID in his wallet at some point.
"You were found in crashed car, few about mile down Storm street's northern end. We found your driver's licence from your wallet while transporting you here."
There was complete silence in room for few seconds. Sam didn't know what to say.
"...Traffic accident?"
"Don't worry, you hit the wall with your car. There were no other casualties. Honestly, though, I'm not the only one here who's surprised that you're still alive. The car is in rather small pieces right now, or so I was told. Someone up there must like you."
"...No other casualties? What about other?"
"Hmm? Who others?"
There were no other passengers? What about driver, then?
"Weren't there others in the car?"
"You were driving alone, luckily. I'm quite certain others wouldn't have made it."
Your car? You were driving alone? Sam didn't have a car. Whose car was he driving, and why wasn't it's owner in it?
"...When did all this happen?" Sam asked, after short pause.
"Four days ago, bit after midnight. Today is June 8th."

June 8th? He had been in unconcious 4 days? First time in perhaps years, Sam was shocked, not knowing what to say or even think.
After about 15 seconds of silence, allowing Sam to take shocking news in, Cross broke the silence.
"You don't remember anything about accident or time before that, Samuel?"
"...I...Umm...So...this happened at June 4?"
"Few hours after midnight, yes." Doctor responded immediately.
"I..." Sam closed his eyes, and gently slapped his head with his right hand. Focus! This isn't like you, to flip out about anything!
Sam breathed in and out, collecting his thoughts while calming down.
"...June 3rd was graduation day. I recall leaving... somewhere, to celebrate, with my class."
"...And then?" Cross asked.
"...I don't remember."

< Message edited by ChainSword -- 1/29/2012 13:44:34 >

AQW

Post #: 4

Page: [1]

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