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Allison It is the morning that is most special to me. Not that I am a morning person - oh no. I am up at odd hours and dread the ringing clock that calls me to wake up and face the sun that burns my eyes and warms my skin beyond what I would prefer. No, I am not a morning person, but the morning (once my eyes no longer are hurting) is the most special time of day for me. It is pure, new, without the struggles of the coming day. She made the morning special, mainly because she wasn’t part of my morning. She was the signal that the time has come to put the (eye burning) peace of the sunrise aside and begin the long fight toward the death of nightfall. The morning makes the fight all the more important, all the more desperate, for if I must leave the peace of the innocent sunrise behind I must make sure I can see it again. I had to make sure that she can see it again. Where did it all begin? The afternoon of my life? It all began with her, the day she walked into the band hall, and I knew that I had to step out of the morning to hold hands with the night. Literally all eyes were on her, Mr. Hryorchuk was introducing her to us after all, but not all eyes were on her face, which was turned down to stare into the air near the ground. No. The eyes that could see were on the long, virgin white bandage that wrapped neatly around the forearm clamped tightly against her side. Few noticed the French Horn that dangled in her left hand. The French Horns noticed, and as their section leader I rejoiced that we now had a third member, but even my eyes were drawn immediately to the three, even, broad, bright red lines that stained the inside of the bandage, revealed only briefly when Mr. Hryorchuk slapped her back as he asked the band to welcome her to the class. I don’t even remember what went through my head while the band murmured a half-hearted welcome to this stranger named Allison who quickly, efficiently, and quietly took her place as my third-chair. We played our songs, Allison catching on quickly and the bell coming (too soon, looking back) to snap the tension of a classroom into the freedom of lunch. “French Horns always eat together,” my second chair, Gabie, beamed at our newbie. Gabie was the embodiment of morning to me. When I was to leave, she would step up more than I ever would have hoped when it came to being a leader in the band. Allison gave the smallest of smiles, and followed us as quietly as a predator moving through the night. The moment I knew would come as soon as I saw the lines – the moment I had hoped there would be sense enough, decency enough, to avoid – came. A boy, a trumpet (wouldn’t you know it?), whose name isn’t worth mentioning brushed past us three with a single word. “Cutter.” I could have punched the runt. Arrogant sophomore, he had no clue what kind of whirlwind he might have gotten if she hadn’t spoken first. “If you really think so, maybe you should let me demonstrate.” For the first words any of us had heard from her, these were not the ones that could have left the best first impression. The fact that they had come out in a low hiss with a long smile most of us had only seen in the movies did not help. The trumpet blanched and moved off, and we French Horns made our way (silently now) to the lunch room to take our place with the saxophones. As soon as we sat down with food, we broke the awkward silence to talk shop. How long had she played? What chair was she at her last school? Did she play anything else? Where was she from? Scores last year at Solo & Ensemble? All the gossip usual to band geeks. She even smiled at the end, until one of the saxes, one of my classmates, leapt onto the elephant we were so contentedly walking around. “What happened?” He asked, pointing at her arm, unconsciously relaxed on the table such that the lines, somewhat more ragged now than they had been. Allison immediately snapped her arm back to her chest, wincing. Her eyes went to the apple in her hand and she smoothly, almost mechanically answered, “Nothing a knife couldn’t cure.” My mind wanted a coin to flip. Fifty-fifty shot at whether she was ashamed or not. I honestly couldn’t tell at that point that the only shame she had was what was having to be “cured” and not how the “cure” was obtained. In any case, her words had the effect of silencing the table as she took one last bite at the apple in her hand and rose to leave. Gabie, my little morning child, sprang to assist and guide her around the school. I had a few words with the saxes, hoping to give Allison a chance before she exiled herself. I didn’t see Allison at all until school rang out for the day, out in the parking lot beneath that merciless sun. Her bandage had been changed, it was pure white now as she slipped on a jacket against the chill wind. I was making my way to my car and offered a ride. The ride to her family’s apartment was silent, for the most part. There was a mild discussion about fingerings between MLK Street and Anderson Street, but it wasn’t until we arrived that she said anything real. I wished her a good day, and a hope that she wouldn’t have to seek a cure tonight. I received back more than I had bargained for. She went slack, hunched over in my passenger seat, and began to speak. She asked me to imagine having to be the 11th grader who was in her third high school, knowing that your step-father’s inability to work would send you to another at the end of the year. She asked me to imagine waking each morning to a kitchen of beers and cold pizza a week old, to come home to a silent mother cleaning up the night in preparation for the evening. She asked me to imagine sleeping to dream the dreams of memories best forgotten, that you wished were forgotten, only to wake to find the memories of creeping hands and heavy breath resurfacing with renewed intensity from a childhood marked by nothing else. She asked me to think of only being able to say you truly owned one thing, and could only control one thing in your life. And so she left, and when I got home I sat in my car and stared into the distance, imagining. I never could think clearly, and now the tears that my control disallowed to be free clouded my mind like mocking voices to condemn me. How dare I wish what I wished her? And so I was handicapped all afternoon, until the sunset came: orange in the sky but red upon my arm. The night passed in clarity and confusion, in desperation and prayer. Silence and speech between age and youth. The morning is special to me. It brings a time to think with the previous day gone, dead. It brings a time to see forward on the day with nothing yet written on the slate. So I, with a virgin white bandage on my arm marred by a jagged line of red, bowed to my mother and left to school with a mind on the day ahead, catching Allison only just before she entered the junior wing. I touched her shoulder, my own bandage hidden by my jacket, and smiled before heading to my own classes. Band was fourth period. There would be time to speak, time to imagine, with morning now over. The new girl was known already among all the students I knew. On every tongue, for what seemed would be ages but was truly only a small while, was the bandage, fresh with the red life of its wearer. I could only speak of her being a French Horn. I never could speak well; translate my hesitant thoughts with my stupid mouth. Band came and went, lunch arrived and passed. Allison, she confessed too late, knew of the words spoken and held her head high during the next week. Then her name slipped out of the common gossip. She was a fixture of the school now, the girl who was proud until she spoke, quickly looking to the floor to keep the anger or sorrow from being read in her eyes. Though she wore her bandage openly, defiantly to those who could not know, my own bandage was never seen by any other than myself and my parents, nor did I need it ever again. I could now imagine, and because I could imagine my days became the fight to regain the morning, the special time when I did not have to imagine. I still gave Allison rides home, and eventually she gave me more to imagine, not knowing why she did. I didn’t know why she did, but I imagined, and I dreamed until I woke up in the morning where the sun could burn from my eyes the images of my imagining. Soon I began picking her up from school, and I no longer had to imagine some things, and my mornings ended too soon as she slowly transformed herself from night to day. Limps smoothed out on the short walk to my car, stray hairs combed into place before my car door was opened, wrinkled sleeves ironed away by unerring hands to cover the perpetual red lines. Ever polite, ever proud, ever effacing herself behind the mask of Allison, who had no bags beneath her eyes or purpled marks at the base of her throat. And so from the first step of hers towards me in the time before the afternoon I imagined and thought my clumsy thoughts. My father is a doctor in our city, and he leads the EMS, and I told him about the things I imagined and thought when the morning was over. He was silent as he departed my room that night so long ago when the sunset was twice red, and every day told me, “Just wait a little while more.” And so I waited a little while more, until the day Allison did not come out to my car, the day I did not touch her shoulder and did not eat with her at lunch. Not until the end of the day did I see her walk proudly into the school with her silent mother to get the work she had missed. It was several weeks before she would give me another thing to imagine, speaking strictly of band and choir and music theory during lunch and while riding home. Winter break was to come soon, and before school let out our band always held chair competitions so that those eager for it could be leaders. Allison was gunning for my chair, obviously, but I was not worried about that. Two weeks before school let out, I offered her the guest room at our house, offered the pure, soft mornings where no imagining had to take place. She declined, and again walked home from school. I saw her rarely during the break, dressed still in our school uniform, now with an ever present jacket to cover her arms I never again saw bare, whether her sleeves were long or short. On New Year’s Eve I heard a call go out over the EMS channel for an ambulance at Allison’s address. That night my father informed me an arrest had been made, and took me to give a deposition to the police at the hospital, standing at the foot of the wide bed where Allison lay like a broken bird, her mother gently sobbing into her hands. It made the headlines, but the inky lines did not contain what I had been told to imagine, to dream, to wonder, and to fight through until morning came. I have not seen Allison since, and I do not know where she is. There was no news, only rumors when she and her mother just left in the night. For ages her name was again on the tongues of the school, but eventually her story became a fixture of the school. The girl who came and went and left nothing behind: nothing but a note in locker 574 by the band hall telling Gabie goodbye and a stained, white bandage wrapped around a small, dull knife in locker 567 that I have kept ever since.
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From the story of What I Stand For... A Collaborated Epic presented by Grant-Sud and Zo'Tomana... Second Chance ______ Part 1: Recruits Execution Orders: Rejected Every step echoed in the ears of Helryx. It’s was a very slow, easy walk. Axonn had a distinctive step of his own, being a strong, heavy being. But somehow the easy gait of the prisoner he led, with the slight clang and rattle of his chains, sounded like words.His very footfalls, his body movement, and even his glowing eyes that became brighter as they moved closer to her throne room, said it all.I am here.The prisoner, Dark Hunter subject and codenamed “Excavate”, nationality of the Northern Continent and from the large City of Sol, approached before the Toa of Water. His torn and burnt cloak revealed his features. He was tall and lean with onyx colored armor, only slightly larger than a Toa’s form. He stood with his back straight, head down staring at the floor, and hands in front of him. The electric chains bound his wrists together, the cords reaching around his feet. Any sudden movement caused pain, and Helryx ordered for his hands to be before him, not behind his back.She wanted them where she could see them.He wore no Kanohi, just a protective steel helmet which hadspiked edges along the sides that shifted backward, pitch black in color.Helryx gazed at him curiously. This was the great Dark Hunter? He didn’t seem like anything special.But his record told a different story. According the reports, this single Dark Hunter had charged head first into wars zones only to come out without a scratch. He had killed Toa, Skakdi, fully mature Rahkshi, numerous Rahi, other Dark Hunters and some of the Brotherhood’s most powerful servants.Still, she thought with disappointment, he was no match for one of our own.Well, that wasn’t technically true. He had almost defeated the Order’s Retriever in combat. It was a chance move that had caught Excavator off guard that led to his capture. He had remained in a restrained cell for one month on the island of Daxia before being brought to Helryx.Still, had he been aware of the ability - had he been informed of his enemy’s unique powers and strengths, then success would have been his.Helryx gave the smallest of smirks. No, appearances weren’t everything. There was something in those eyes that refused to look upward, something unique.The room had stone flooring, polished and seemed to be cleaned daily. The walls were a dark gray in color, with unique looking masks and paintings placed up on shelves and hung respectively. Small decorative torches with silver holders that spiraled upward, plantlike, lit the room. Helryx stood before a comfortable chair aligned at the end of the room, one that seemed to glow as though it was a command unit or a communication terminal. It was silent; Helryx ordered to not be bothered while the meeting took place.“Well,” she spoke easily, but clear enough for not one word to be misunderstood, “I assume formalities are in order. And we should make them short, as I’m sure you prefer.”Axonn kept a careful watch on the Dark Hunter, who kept his head down. He said nothing.“My name is Helryx, and I am the leader of this organization. The Order of Mata Nui welcomes you.”Still he said nothing.She ignored it and continued without hesitating. “As I’m sure you are unaware, your execution has been recalled.”That did make him stir slightly.“We’d be very honored if you returned our hospitality by speaking. Do you speak?”“You said you’d make it short.” Finally the Dark Hunter looked upward with crystal blue eyes, they gleamed brightly, a dark blue in color. “What am I here for?”“We have an assignment for you,” Helryx answered. “I won’t lie. Your record tells enough for us to kill you on the spot. You’ve committed more murders than the average Dark Hunter. You are a thief, a terrorist… the list goes on.”“And this terrorist is being hired by you. Why?”In her line of work, small remarks couldn’t bother her conscious. And they didn’t.“Because you are the best,” she said matter-of-factly. “Or so we assume. We are offering you a chance to clear your record, by doing something good for the universe. It’s a chance of redemption.”“A second chance,” he said softly. It was almost inaudible.Helryx leaned in closer, wondering if he would say more. He didn’t, and a silence filled the room while the Dark Hunter gathered his thoughts.“What do I receive?” he asked next.Axonn visibly faltered.“We won’t have you executed, and then you’ll be released. That’s your reward,” he replied in a deep voice with narrow eyes. “And mind your manners.”Surprising both Order of Mata Nui Member’s in the room, Excavate revealed true anger, snapping his head toward the giant being. His chains glowed furiously at the movement, but the Dark Hunter showed no recognition of it. Or maybe he did, and was proving himself.“Pardon me? Mind your manners,” Excavate replied sharply. “You capture me, and instead of killing me, orders – no – use me for your own plans? Don’t you dare, give me such ignorant treatment. Lying is beneath us, I would think.” His voice grew deeper, an analyzing tone, he became more assured of himself the more he spoke.“If you wanted me dead, you would have done it long ago. The fact that your leader hasn’t done so only reveals her weakness. It shows all the cards she holds. And I’m her only ace.”Axonn gripped his weapon even tighter.“You do not want me for this assignment. You need me. Back off, and let me speak with my employer. What does this have to do with you?”Slowly the Dark Hunter turned back to Helryx, staring her directly in the eyes without a sign of wavering or fear.She gave a small smile. Yes, he was a Dark Hunter. A weapon to be bought for and that was all. He didn’t care for release, because he knew he was always a target. It was all a process and that ruse of capturing him hadn’t changed a thing.The truth was they did need him. As a Dark Hunter, that name gave him the prestige of hidden motives and invisibility; elusiveness. A hunting Rahi that as long you got out of his way and ignored, probably wouldn’t harm you. Another Dark Hunter on some mission.He wasn’t a member of the Order, and thus his little attention would direct him to the Shadowed One’s people and no one else. He was skilled enough to pull off the missions, trained enough to know what information to look for. To know that if he dug too deep, he’d be a target for every assassin in the Universe. He knew what do to as told. He had no loyalties except for the one who hired him.That wouldn’t mean he’d be let off on a leash. He would have to be watched over, someone would need to double check his work and keep him in line. That wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, not for the right operative.And above all, as a Dark Hunter,Excavate was expendable. Whether he lived or died, the Order lost nothing. Helryx smiled, because he was just as good as she needed him to be. But despite that, it made the situation for him seem tragic.She pushed that out of her mind and nodded a reply, that smile of – yes – sympathy, still there.The flickering lights from the torches glimmered across his face.“We can talk of a payment. Anything you want. You succeed, stay alive, and you can have anything you want.”Excavate finally nodded, his eyes refusing to leave hers. He stood, waiting for his first assignment._____ Review Topic
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I know this write-off happened weeks ago, but hey, I decided I liked this enough (and like it as it is and as short as it is) to see what others think. There is two changes between this and the original 15 minute spurt of typing. I added the "-" in "stone-workers" and changed "losing" to "risking" in sentence 6. Enjoy. ------------------ Throne The throne was ugly. Flat slabs of stone that had been laid close to each other, joined by whatever device the stone-workers had implemented. Grey, rough, unpolished stone cut at right angles with no curves to ease your body into. The guard carefully watched at the townspeople lifted the throne with ropes onto a wooden stage, also rough and unstained and (in some areas) with bark still attached to the planks. The whole thing was heavy with the scent of pine. You probably couldn't walk across it barefoot without risking a toe or two from infection by splinter. The throne was placed in the middle of the dais on a large rock that extended beneath the platform and into the ground. The ropes were yanked from underneath just as the procession neared the town square. “Hail the king!” someone cried, and everyone fell silent. Before their eyes a middle aged man, ragged and limping, was herded into the square by a group of guardsmen. He stumbled, hobbled, and walked dazedly, but as soon as “Hail” had been cried he stood straight up, startled, began to walk towards the platform. He reached the base of the steps up, and hesitated. A guard lashed out with a gauntleted fist and knocked the man down, kicking him until he scrambled up giving small sounds of pain as he tried to move gently across the wood to sit in the stone throne. “Hail the man that would be king!” the head of the guard cried, taking a brand from one of his fellows and thrusting it beneath the platform. Within minutes the structure was licked from side to side by flames, and the man in the middle could be seen to be huddled on the throne, sweating profusely. Heavy with resin, the structure burned remarkably fast until all that remained was the scorched rock in the middle, the withered man whimpering from burns, hunger, and thirst. “Hail, the man who is king! May the reign of the Throne of Fire be long!” The head guard called, dismissing the crowd to go silently home as their king was lowered from the ugly throne.
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Welcome to the Second Chance Review Topic! This is a Co-Authored epic by myself (Grant-Sud) and my very good friend Zo'Tomana. Below are a list of details and links that will help you get started on where and how to follow.This story takes place a few years before the awakening of the Toa Mata and centers around the main universe, featuring two OC characters, Tomana and Excavate. Assigned on a mission to retrieve knowledge of their common enemy, a Toa and a Dark Hunter must learn to work together in order to survive the hostile world beyond them. Second Chance Part 1 - Recruits1. -Execution Orders: Rejected2. -Two for the Road3. -IllegiblePart 2 - Hidden4. -Covered by Mist5. -Forest of Thoughts6. -In Minutes7. -Abandoned8. -CorridorsPart 3 - Negotiations9. -The Ones in Command10. -Timing11. -A Place You Call...12. -Once More Into the Breach13. -Here and There14. -Confident Liar15. -These DaysPart 4 - Infiltrator16. -Just Business17. -The Toa of Principles18. -City of Glass19. -Dust20. -Mistaken Targets21. -Sit Sine Labe Decus (Let Honour Stainless Be)22. -UprisingPart 5 - Ascension23. -Rest Up, Brothers 24. -Deadline 25. -Earlier in Time, Stronger in Law____*Bios REALLY Coming Soon*An older Short Story and based off this tale, now a prologue, What I Stand For, can be read here.Second Chance will consist of 5 or 6 parts, but won't be too long of a story. If you enjoy our epic, please feel free to leave comments and reviews below, we appreciate any criticisms and we hope you enjoy it. Updates- March 17I'm starting a new update system so that I can add notes to chapters as they are released. It's a little late to be doing so, considering we're in the third part already. But anyway the chapter "Corridors", was launched today and it fills in the ending of Part 2's "Hidden". We already have much of Part 3 written and we're just deciding when to post the next chapter. Also I know we haven't done so yet, but the Character Bios of Excavate and Tomana will be appearing soon.- March 23Following these updates, we have the newest chapter of Second Chance up and we're now starting in part 3, Negotiations. The chapter was a ton of fun to write, and Zo'Tomana added in the details for Tomana's reply to Helryx concerning Excavate. Now we're taking a new twist to this part, since it's basically a start up for the conflicts that will be happening in Part 4. One half of Part 3 will cover what happened right after the Abyss Isla, and the other will continue into the future, where T and E have located the Makuta and are searching for it. Kind of a past present timeline thing... hope you all enjoy it.- March 28Checking out the dates I'm posting these, I realize how quickly we're publishing new chapters. Anyway Timing is up, a Zo;Tomana chapter and real good one. We had a little experimentation on the sparring session, but overall I think it turned out nicely. We're still moving back and forth between the present and past so hopefully it's not confusing anyone. Be on the look out for the next chapter soon!- April 2Tomana liked this chapter, but felt it was a little slow in pace. I honestly agree. I think this Part of the epic is more for the slowness and working Character Development, but we'd love to know what you all are thinking. ^^ Newest chapter, A Place You Call... is published. (It has a hidden meaning, doubt many will figure it out.)-April 13So it's been more then a solid week since we posted our last chapter. For that we apologize, but busy life got in the way as it usually does. It took us a little time to know what we were going to do with this and the next chapter, as both deal with the histories of our two main characters. Hopefully we've done it right, and the next chapter is completed, so expect it to be published in just a few days after this one sinks in. Zo;Tomana's chapter is done well imo, and it dives into a more vulnerable look at the Toa. My friend and I would also like to point out, that again, while we know this Part 3 is probably going by a little slowly, things are going to pick up real soon. Give us your opinions when you can, and thanks for reading!-April 21Another week having gone by, and another chapter to log. Today we go Here and There, a backstory chapter, or at least an explanation as to where our two main characters are from. It was a difficult chapter to write, especially with the dialogue and such... but I got a treat for you all. Zo'Tomana and myself have both written this chapter. We wrote it out in real time, and I did Excavate's dialogue while Zo'Tom did the Detectives. :3 I hope you all enjoy it, because it was a lot of fun. Next chapter is mine, and we're nearing the end of this third part!-April 25Took a little less time to get this chapter done. Not much to say, except we've gotten on a quicker pace again and this is the penultimate chapter of Part 3!-May 9thWith Part 3 done, we are now ready to enter into Part 4: Infiltrator. Hope you all enjoy it. Just as another note, These Days was my first semi-songfic I've ever done. Hopefully you thought it was good!-May 19thWe're sorry for the long wait on the update, but it took us a little time to know where we wanted to take part 4 exactly, and we've both been a little busy. But we have the next chapter coming soon and the one right after that. I may actually be gone for a week this coming Monday, but I'll keep you all posted. Besides that, want to give a huge thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed this story. You guys make it worth it all the more. :3-June 23thIt's interesting how we've slowed a little. Since the last update we've had two chapters up: City of Glass and Dust. Hopefully you all enjoy the story so far, and while we've both been a little busy as the summer has officially set in, the story is still fresh and ready to be typed up soon! We love all your comments so keep them up if you can, and thanks again for reading!-June 30thWith a new chapter already out, we present Mistaken Targets. The chapter was written by myself and Tomana. I had the upper half with Excavate's and Joga's view point, while Tomana had "Zoxara" and Kato's view point. Hopefully you all enjoy it, and Part 4 will be coming to an end shortly. ;D Comments and criticism is great appreciated, as always!-July 7thReleasing the next chapter, Tomana provided Sit Sine Labe Decus (Let Honour Stainless Be) a couple days ago. It's quite the character inspection for our frosty friend, and one step closer to finishing up Part 4! Please enjoy and comment when you can!-July 18thWe finally present Uprising, the last chapter in the Part 4. I will say this was one of the toughest chapters I've had to write, with Tomana and I going over the plot back and forth, back and forth, neither one of us liking any of our combined ideas. Finally we did a complete rewrite of the second half of the chapter, which with a little editing, we realized was something we wanted. But let's let you guys decide that! Leave any comments you'd like and thanks for reading! Part 5 coming soon, but give us about a week probably.Influences to Second Chance
