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> The First Scream, Who will hear it...
Jest3r
Posted: August 13, 2005 12:06 am
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I hope you've enjoyed 'The First Scream' so far. I could really use some feedback on how you think the story is going. Do you like the direction the story is going? Is the drama and action well played? SHARE YOUR OPINIONS!

I'd be happy to answer any questions you may have about it, such as character bios, weapon information, and even medical information.

After enjoying the latest installment, leave some feedback or an opinion, and help me make the next part of the story a success.

Thank you!! Enjoy the zombification!


VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
NEW INSTALLMENT BELOW
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

This post has been edited by Jest3r on September 01, 2005 08:21 pm


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Jest3r
Posted: August 14, 2005 03:56 am
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Oh well none. The last installment is at the bottom of page 2, check to make sure you're up to date =). Despite the lack of criticism (positive/negative), I suppose it will be worthwhile to conclude the storyline of the Incident in West Town.

Look for 'The First Scream: Part 2' soon.


VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
New Installment Posted
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

This post has been edited by Jest3r on September 02, 2005 12:22 am


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-=Chris Redfield=-
Posted: August 14, 2005 04:50 am
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God damn it, how come no one is responding ot this?! This is a great story ya got here. You go into excellent amount of detail - not to much and not to little - and you can actually type English very...fluently. The character development seems to be pretty good, as in the conversations and their actions aren't unnatural or forced.

The last sequence was pretty good - like the part about the man shooting himself. Nice job. happy.gif


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Elite viking
Posted: August 14, 2005 12:48 pm
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You are the second best writer here around ever (best? Foxtrot_uniform). You write excellent, it's like you're a writer in your real life. Tons of descriptions, nice and spacy, it has, well, everything. Everything seems to be pondered on for a long time to make it just right. Keep writing wink.gif
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Keyes
Posted: August 14, 2005 01:33 pm
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Definitely keep writing! If you stop, I'll up your warning level biggrin.gif

Just kidding about the warning level thing. But seriously, your stuff is really good. The storyline's good, the whole descriptiveness is good, and you've actually taken the time to check spelling, grammar and punctuation! So definitely keep going!


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mrchace
Posted: August 14, 2005 11:54 pm
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The reason im not responding is because i cant put my thoughts and feeling into words...if that makes any cence at all...


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There are a few reasons I don't visit the forums as often as I used to, they are as follows:

1) I really don't have a lot of time.

2) My hardrive is failing

3) The forums honestly frustrate me to a point I cannot stand it, I've tried to help, I've tried to set people straight, but apparently, the health of these forums only matters to a few people. Thats just sad, most of us have grown along with these forums and along BB and frankly its disgusting to see the way you guys act sometimes...

until you pull your acts together, don't expect to see me around much.

WHERE IS MY DELETE POST FUNCTION!?
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KrazyFoYou1243
Posted: August 15, 2005 05:05 am
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I likey. More please.


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Jest3r
Posted: September 01, 2005 06:25 am
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The First Scream: Part II

Somewhere on the fourth floor of an apartment building overlooking the crash site and the gun store...

A sniper, clad in a red helmet and an armored vest bearing insignias of the same colors, drew his long rifle back from the window. He could hear an approaching helicopter, and was not going to risk being killed. Closing the bi-pod on the underside of the weapon, he slung it over his shoulder and looked around the room. It was a simple, humble apartment. The bed was smeared with the stains of torn skin and matted hair. A brown night stand lay overturned in the corner, and sat in still contrast to the creaking door, which was wobbling with the breeze brought in by the open window. The home felt remarkably empty, its occupants long gone to some unforeseen demise.

The sniper sighed deeply and un-holstered a small, compact pistol from his hip. He kicked open the door and checked around the corners. "All clear. This is Red Nine, I am requesting pick up on my mission zone."

"This is Red Seven. Inbound units to your location get to the roof and get ready to haul ass, E.T.A. seven minutes. Update on mission status?"

"I'm sorry sir, it failed. My charges in the crash site didn't detonate, the S.W.A.T. team must've damaged the receiver when they were advancing," replied the sniper. A hint of fear trickled through his voice. The thought of upsetting his superior seemed to perturb him.

"No excuses necessary. We've got a major containment crisis on our hands," said Red Seven. The sniper chuckled as he interrupted,

"This whole god damn mess is a containment crisis, with all do respect, sir-"

"You do not have permission to speak frankly, do you understand?"

"Yes sir, I understand sir," said the sniper.

"This isn't a secure line, I can't tell you anything right now. Once we have all of our operators back to the Center, you'll be debriefed. Red Seven out."

The mysterious sniper ran down the apartment complex corridor towards the stairwell. The insignia on the back of his armor was a crimson box, its top opened.

The pieces were set. The inevitable was in motion.

***

An orange sun began to crawl across the horizon to begin its slumber, passing off its luminescent duties to the lunar cycle. In the northern districts, a constant dull moan replaced the roar of thousands of cars and buses. The three Platinum Bridges, the only connecting structures between the northern and southern districts of West Town, were littered with abandoned vehicles. Smoldering wreckage was a more common sight as one would approach the southern side of the bridges. A strong, determined armored force, the West Town Police Department, had its orders to aggressively defend the bridges, firing on any of the strange, hungry creatures and any vehicles which refused to stop. The burning makeshift barricade of cars seemed to limit the creatures to crossing at only a trickle- it was almost as if they seemed disinterested, waiting for some kind of incentive to drive them towards the southern half of the city. As it is with every animal, hunger is the most powerful incentive of them all.

Yet above the roar of the fires and occasional gunshots came an even louder noise.

A scream tore through the cold air, ripening the scent of fresh death with its note of terror.

The small body of a young boy came climbing over the burning wreckage. Tears of fear and grief struck his young features. He stood at the top of a rather large van, and looked back and reached out for something. "Just go! Don't stop! I love you sweetie."

The police manning the barricades looked on with horror. They knew their orders, not to cross their barricades to help anyone. Simply waiting, guns drawn and aimed, seemed to be the only assistance they could give to the child as he ran towards the heavily armed policemen. He kept on running, running and crying fiercely. His little feet could only draw him so far away from the last obliterated car before the sound of hundreds of feet and hands clamoring on the metallic skeletons began to increase his primal drive to survive. The hungry denizens seemed to be chasing a badly wounded woman, who was crawling over the cars. Their bleak, almost sad eyes failed to notice hundreds of armed men and women raise their respective weapons.

"Hold steady. Pull low and aim high."

"Don't! That kid is still in the way!" cried out a voice.

"We got no choice! They're bringing the whole damned city behind 'em."

The woman, apparently the mother, raised her hand into the sky, whispering words unknown to all but those above. Her hand was brought down by those whom were once her own neighbors, friends, and family.

"Open fire!"

The end of the bridge turned into a giant flash of yellows, sharp whites, and fluorescent oranges. The barrage of gunfire lasted no longer than three seconds. They stopped, letting their final shells hit the ground peacefully.

The officers stood in tight-jawed shock, knowing that the only thing keeping them from an outpouring of sorrow was their own sense of duty. The blood ran thick over the broken forms of the cars. To the uninformed observer, the scene was almost tranquil.

"Clear up!"

"Clear down- Figs! Get your ass back here now!"

A lone officer had stepped over the police barricade. He was dressed in standard patrol gear with his only weapons, a standard issue pistol and a flashlight, aimed into the smoke. "Sir, I think I can see the child sir!"

A superior sounding man slung an MP-5 around his back and drew his pistol, aiming at Figs. "Figs god damnit, I will not hesitate to follow our orders to the letter. Step back over the barricade now."

"Got him," Figs lifted up a small, huddled form from the road, "At least let me take him down to quarantine, I think he's still alive."

The superior shook his head angrily and reached out to take what looked like a small bundle of rags from Figs, the officer who had ran out past the barricade.

Figs clicked the radio which was strapped to his left shoulder on, saying "This is Barricade Unit Three, prep quarantine for incoming civilian casualty."

Static. "We copy. Ready for reception."

***

Everything was moving. Nothing added up as it cascaded further into the abyss of confusion.

The police helicopter was not flying gently, nor cautiously, nor silently. Corporal Michael Harper stared into the west, down the river into the setting sun. It was barely a small crescent on the horizon now, a mass of red fire sinking at a calm pace. He was loosely strapped onto the starboard skid of the chopper, his body bouncing side to side with every motion the vehicle made. Izzy lay somewhere in the back of the transport, replacing Davis' bandage which lay guard over the gun-shot wound on his left side. Poole sat on the opposite skid, his eyes darting from left to right, still on the lookout for any trouble.

Harper hung his head, looking at the streets below. As they approached the three Platinum Bridges, he could see the teeming, bloodthirsty masses below his dangling feet shift and move. His mind began to play tricks on him. Again he felt Captain Barnet slip from his shoulder, the massive hole torn into his person. Harper quickly blinked and the vision was gone, but he could swear that he could still feel the heaviness of his dead commander, the phantom's weight still haunting his mind.

The pilot of the helicopter leaned back and shouted, "E.T.A. two minutes, I have orders to deliver you all directly to Lieutenant Daniels," The remark seemed to wake Harper from his hard gaze.

"Asshole," thought Harper. "I'm not a delivery boy for some damned piece of data. These recordings had better be worth it."

He swung his leg over and into the chopper, pulling himself upright. Walking over to Izzy, he asked "Hows he doing?"

Izzy looked up and removed her helmet. "What?" She shouted over the din of the moving helicopter.

"How's Davis?" repeated Harper, much louder.

"Oh. He'll be fine, he needed to take a rest, he lost quite a lot of blood. But hell, this is what, Davis' third time getting shot?"

Izzy looked up at Harper, smiling her usual confident smile. The corporal could only find the heart to barely return the gesture, nodding with a weak smile.

Poole waved from his seat on the port side skid of the chopper. "Yo Harp, check this out."

Harper walked over to Poole, bent over to avoid the low ceiling of the chopper. He first looked at Poole, and then at where he was pointing, to the streets of the Southern District. "What do you make of it?"

"It looks like an exodus," said Harper softly.

"What?"

"I said it looks like they're evacuating, but look at the traffic," Harper pointed down a long, visible street. "I don't think the exits of the city are open, there's no other way that many people would be backed up this far."

Michael Harper blinked and held on to a rail above the helicopter door. The bloodied form of Harrison hung in his mind. Murderer... said the dead memory. Harper tried to shake off that horrible feeling. But still the word echoed through his head Murderer...

Within a few seconds, the chopper was descending lower and lower onto a relatively tall building. Two figures were on the landing pad. As the familiar dull thud of the helicopter ricocheted through the interior of the helicopter, Izzy woke Davis up and carried him off, followed by Poole. Harper was the last one in the chopper. He made sure his weapon was hanging loose and at the ready in front of him, while his hands carried the bag of data.

Lieutenant Daniels, flanked by another West Town police officer, walked forward to the four figures exiting the police transport. "Well?" he inquired with open arms, a look of anxiety on his face. Izzy, Davis leaning on her, glared up at the Lieutenant, passing him by without a word. Poole barely nodded in recognition of the rank which was greeting them. The information was obviously in dire requirement. As Harper approached, he lifted up the black bag of recordings and information, tossing it to the escort for Lieutenant Daniels.

"There's the information," said Harper in a barely audible whisper.

Daniels looked concerned. "And the rest of your team? Where are they?"

"Lieutenant" began Harper, "we are the team."

Lieutenant Daniels sent his escort down to a room below them to begin extracting the data from the recordings. He and Harper stood on the roof. Michael stared into the eyes of this fellow officer, making sure that he understood what he had just said.

Lieutenant Daniels knew. He understood.

Corporal Harper walked off toward the stairwell to the lower levels, leaving Daniels there for a moment, standing in the last seconds of daylight. And then he too turned and headed for the stairwell.

Some distant word trailed off in Harpers mind as the first blankets of night began to wash over the city. Murderer...

To be continued

***

This post has been edited by Jest3r on November 16, 2007 06:33 pm


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Keyes
Posted: September 02, 2005 12:05 am
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Pretty damn good. The sniper has me confused, though. Who is he?


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Jest3r
Posted: September 02, 2005 12:21 am
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Re-read the second to last chapter, there was a sniper who was engaging the police officers. The mysterious sniper and the other mercenary, Jack, will soon play a greater role in the story.

Any more questions/comments/concerns? I hope you enjoyed the most recent post, which was only the beginning of Part II.

Look for another installment soon!


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-=Chris Redfield=-
Posted: September 02, 2005 10:25 pm
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Will read later when I'm in the "reading mood" so I hope it's as good as your other installments. wink.gif


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GaMeRT1
Posted: September 04, 2005 09:45 am
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dammit man, that kid part was uber sad:( So far your story is well worthy of a book, and sometimes i get to think did he steal this? but you know that shits illegal and boogediy boogidy boo! Penis monkey, oh yes i went there im crazy arent i?


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Jest3r
Posted: September 04, 2005 06:24 pm
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Ha ha, thank you GaMeRT1. I'll take that as a compliment. This is all my original work.

In reference to the child, he is not hurt badly, he is hardly hurt at all.

Thanks to all of the readers thus far!

A new installment will be in soon.

Until then, any more comments/criticism/concerns?

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
NEW INSTALLMENT POSTED
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

This post has been edited by Jest3r on November 28, 2005 10:36 pm


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GaMeRT1
Posted: September 05, 2005 05:45 am
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oh, and i'd perfer to be called GaMeR:D its my ingame name and you probally havent seen me either lol im a guy like jouni who started out when BB first came out, back before there was DOTD_mall or the map stories:D lol just slaywatch and heavensgate


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Posted: September 05, 2005 05:57 am
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Bah cracka, I remember those days. Can't believe it's going to almost be a year since I've signed up on this thing. Too bad I don't post enough, though.

I'm getting through this thing slowly but surely. God damn it, I'm just not in the mood to read, and it makes me sad...I really want to read it...


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