Ultimatum Final Poll

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Ultimatum story. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 23rd at 11:59 PM EST. The entry with the most votes will be the winner of the Ultimatum theme and will then be either judged or polled against the winners of the other themes.

1. This One Thing Simon couldn't believe what he was hearing. “What are you getting me into?” “It's simple. Just go to this address at this time. Tell 'em you know me, they'll let you in. From there it's easy.” Dan explained. “Look, you're a good friend and you've helped me out loads,” said Simon nervously. “I mean, I'd probably be on the street if it weren't for you, but just turn up at some random address and then, what? If you're trying to drag me into some- some illegal underground, thing, there's no way I'm doing it. No way.” “Really Simon,” Dan smiled. “I wouldn't go and do that now, would I? Just go to this address, tomorrow, ten pm. Everything will be just fine.” Simon still wasn't happy. “You're insane. I ain't gonna do this just cos you tell me to. Tell me what this is about!” Dan sighed. He casually drew out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. “I didn't wanna do this, but seems you've left me no choice. That money I send you? It stops, unless you do this one thing. No more help, no more support, nothing. Understand?” “But- look, I can't just-” “Yes. You can.” Dan turned, taking his hat from the table as he went. “Now I'll leave you to think about it. But if you want anything from me, you'll do it. That's the deal.” Simon sank into a chair. Dan was right. He couldn't manage without him. Simon buried his face in his hands, dreading what the next day would bring.

   * * * * *

   The address was a surprisingly large house in a well built-up area of town. Simon cautiously approached the door, shaking beneath his coat. He just wanted to turn and run. To be anywhere else but here. He knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened an inch. A sliver of a face appeared in the crack, a narrowed eye staring out at him. “Yes?” “I- uh, Dan sent me,” Simon stammered, sweating in the cold air. The voice grunted and the door closed. A few seconds passed, and it opened again. A figure in dark jeans and a hood ushered him in. The door shut loudly behind him. The hooded figure ushered him towards a room on his left. Simon moved towards it. He grasped clumsily at the handle, his fingers scraping round the smooth edges. Finally he got a decent grip. Trembling, he turned the handle. He pushed the door open inch by inch, not knowing what he would see on the other side. Behind the door was...darkness. No lights illuminated the room. He took a small step forward, then another. Light flooded his retinas. A sudden noise, dozens of voices, cascaded over his eardrums. He stumbled backwards, but his way was blocked by the hooded man. He stared up, pale-faced, into the man's eyes. “Dan?” He gasped. Dan grabbed him and spun him around. Simon's eyes widened in surprise. “It's not! You've got to be kidding!” Simon gaped. Dan burst into laughter. “Oh man, you have no idea how fun that little routine was! Been planning it for ages! You were hilarious! You actually thought I was trying to press you into some drug gang or something!” “But- it's not for three days!” “Well, yeah,” Dan shrugged. “Wouldn't be much of a surprise on the actual day. Come on everyone! Don't think Simon heard us last time. One, two, three-” “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” ------

2. Super Guy’s Ultimatum Super Guy flew to the rooftop, where he found his arch enemy. He had fought off all Man of Badness’s henchmen, and was now after the mastermind. But he stopped in his tracks as he sighted the scene. Man of Badness was holding Super Guy’s girlfriend over the edge of the building. “Stop right there, Super Guy,” Man of Badness. “I have your girlfriend’s life in my hands, and if you want her to survive the night, you’ll do what I say. My escape helicopter is almost here, and if you react before it gets here, I’ll kill her. And that includes shooting me, because if you do, I’ll drop here.” He grinned. “You are at an ultimatum. You can either save her life, or you can try to stop me.” Super Guy frowned. “That’s the best you’ve got. Threatening my significant other.” “Um, yeah,” Man of Badness said with hesitation. “But it’s solid.” “But it’s totally cliché. Almost every villain does it against a hero at some point.” “Well, it totally works,” Man of Badness protested. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” “But it’s not too thought out either,” Super Guy pointed out. “You’re just going to drop her? And if you do off her, what’s to stop me from killing you next?” “Maybe I have other tricks up my sleeve that you don’t know about.” “If you had anything better, I’m sure you would’ve used that instead.” “It doesn’t matter, because it’ll work, and I’ll escape into the sunset.” “Except I can fly. I just wait until you board the helicopter, fly after you, and shoot you down a safe distance away from the city.” “Um… we’ll have more guns on the helicopter,” Man of Badness said. “And they have kryptonite bullets, which are your weakness.” “Nope, my weakness is actually arsenic. And to be fair, it’s also pretty lethal to most humans.” “Well, bullets will still slow you down.” “Eh, it doesn’t even matter,” Super Guy said. “I don’t even have to choose.” “What? Sure you do. Your girlfriend’s life is in your hands, and if you don’t do what I say, I’ll kill her.” “Yeah, you said that. But I don’t have to do anything and you’ll still lose.” “Oh yeah, and why is that?” “Because my girlfriend is actually a black belt in karate, and you have her in an improper choke hold.” “What?” Man of Badness said, puzzled. The girlfriend reacted, slipped out of the villain’s grip, grabbing his arm and swinging him around until his wrist was broken, and then kneed him in the gut. Man of Badness fell to the floor in a heap, defeated. The girlfriend looked sternly at Super Guy. “It’s about time; I’ve been waiting ages for you to rescue me. Why do I always have to play damsel in distress? Besides, this made me miss my palettes class. So I have an ultimatum for you; stop rescuing me from kidnappers and let me take care of them myself, or find yourself a new girlfriend. ------
3. Antagonists The colonel walked slowly out of his dark green tent, fastening up the dull buttons of his overcoat as the chill that permeated the air of this cold winter morning swept through his body. They were in the middle of a valley, with a network of trenches extending out in a spider's web of patterns. Men of all creeds hunkered down next to their weapons, trying to keep themselves warm by various methods. They had long since run out of coffee and food was now running desperately low. The men that were out there were getting down to their basic instincts of survival and fight, running off of the steam of their own last reserves combined with the awakening and driving force of their adrenaline. He looked on his men and allowed himself the brief pleasure of a smile. He had commanded these men for nearly the entire war. He had witnessed them in their greatest moments, and he had been there with them when they had lost so many of their comrades. Now was not one of their greatest moments. The enemy had pushed, although they thought the war would be over quickly. Their line had been stretched too thin for the winter since no one expected such a surge from the other side when they and their people had been even more miserable than the poor state that his men were in now. They had been cut off; they had been surrounded. Supplies, when they reached them, were dropped from high in the air, and the enemy had surrounded them on all sides. His men had fought hard and brave, as he expected that they would. However, it's hard to fight without ammunition, and more than one time they found themselves ready to fight hand-to-hand, though it hadn't come to that yet. If they didn't get a new supply of ammo, andsoon, then that might have to happen. Today, though, something was different. The shooting, which had been so constant for so long, had finally halted. If this was a brief reprieve or a tactic by the enemy, no one could say, but the poses of the men in the trenches was one of relief. After all, they didn't know when they might get to rest again, if they ever got to at all. Slowly, a lone soldier approached their lines, carrying in one hand a pole with a white flag, and in the other, a small envelope. He placed it at the edge of one of the trenches before hastily returning to the relative safety of his own line. The envelope was delivered with alacrity to the colonel, who swiftly tore it open and read its contents, which had obviously been translated somewhat badly. In short, it demanded complete surrender, pointing out what had been on his mind for so long: they were completely surrounded and were in imminent danger of being completely annihilated. The colonel walked back into his tent, shaking off the snow that had gathered on his shoulders. He placed the letter down on the table, smoothing its crinkled face out as best he could. Taking his pen, he wrote a great big singular word across the bottom of the letter: NUTS. His men were weary, veterans of many battles before, but they sure as heck weren't going to back down now. Going back over the word a few more times to make it even clearer and bolder, he sealed it up, handing it off to a private for deliverance to the enemy's lines. Suddenly, a strange thought struck him: It'd be funny to see their faces when they read this. ------
4. The Right Path "It is time for you to make a choice." The voice was a discordant union of high and low, soft and harsh, warm and cold. It was simultaneously mellifluous and malefic. The speaker had its back turned to me. But the rear view of its humanoid figure was not without interst . . . though it was without harmony. Its long, billowing cloak was a schism of color, half a tattered black, half a gold-trimmed white. A wing protruded through each shoulder, one chiropteran and battered, one silkily feathered. Its head was on the left side bald and scarred, a deep red hue, topped with a single gnarled horn; and on the right, adorned with a half-crown of golden locks. "You may proceed. Or you may turn back now." "I'm continuing," I confirmed without a momen't hesitation. "So be it." The door behind me slid shut. At the same moment, two more opened before me, one on either side of the creature. Through one door I saw a winding road along rolling hills bathed in sunlight. Birds twittered and fluttered about the trees that dotted the slopes. Through the other door was a shadowed forest path, long and thin. On either side thistles and briars enchroached upon it. I could hear resounding within its depths the howles of wolves, the hoots of owls, and the terrible calls of beasts unknown. As I glanced from one path to the other, the creature turned, drawing my attention. The first ninety degrees of its revolution displayed the face of a beautiful, fair-skinned maiden. But as it turned round entirely, I stifled a gasp of repulsion. The remaining fragment of its face, separated by a jarring margin, was disfigured and lurid, red as blood. This half-angel, half-demon smiled and sneered simultaneously. "My next query: Which path do you choose?" asked the Dyad. "Do you choose to turn to the right--or to the left?" I regarded the sun-filled hills. The right. And I peered into the dark forest. The left. The winding country road or the narrow thicket path. "Choose wisely," the Dyad advised. I considered. The right road was bright, warm and inviting; the left path was stygian and gloomy. Was I to walk the path of evil or the path of peace? to brave the road of darkness or traverse the easy road? "The doors hang open. Choose your path." My heart was thumping. It is never easy to discriminate the proper course. What if I chose incorrectly? What would happen if I failed the test? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I felt I knew the answer. I had made my decision. But if I was wrong--I dreaded to think what might happen. I snapped my eyes open, squared my shoulders, and stepped forward. I did not turn left--nor did I turn right. I marched straight toward the Dyad and brushed it aside. Its demonic face was wide-eyed and snarling, its opposite resplendently smiling. "What are you doing?" "I'm going . . . forth. Neither to the right, nor to the left." I strode up to the wall between the doors. I was no longer afraid. I knew I had made the right choice. And I stepped through the wall. ------
5. Heart Hezul stared at the wall opposite him lost in his own thoughts. He was a young man, barely into adulthood, and already he was in love. It was true love, too; the love of the heart, the mind, and the soul. He loved dear Fala, loved her with his entire being. But, that was not enough. He learned of her illness as she did, but he did not know how far it had progressed until she was admitted into hospital in a critical condition. He had watched as she lay in the white, sterile room, with doctors hovering over her night and day. Finally, the doctors left, one by one. The last, a tall, icy man, had told Hezul that she would need a heart donor if she were to live. He had been shattered, and he began raising money and awareness in the hopes that a donor could be found. Sadly, it seemed that Fala had a rare blood type, and a donor would not be easy to find. That is, until Hezul took the test. He was the next best thing to a genetic relative. His blood type matched hers, and his heart would be compatible. But he would be dead, and he would never see her again. Now, he stared at the wall in the waiting room of the hospital, mulling the situation over and over in his head. If he agreed, his precious Fala would be alive, free to live out the rest of her days as she pleased, but he would not be there to celebrate with her. If he disagreed, she would be dead, and he would be weighed down with guilt for the rest of his life. Would it be so bad, though? Some dark, ugly part of his mind whispered to him in charming, lilting tones. You would get over it. No one would blame you for leaving now. That… was technically correct. Hezul glanced at the door. All he had to do was get up and leave, and he would have his bright, sunny future ahead of him. Without Fala. He dropped back into his seat as quickly as he had half-risen. Without Fala, what was there to life? Was there any purpose to living if he could not see her joyous smile again? What would he do without her? He glanced up as a doctor strode meaningfully towards him. He decided there and then. He would not give her his heart. It was hers to begin with. He smiled at the doctor and said, “Save her. My heart is hers. It always will be.” ------
6. First Day “Today is the first day of your lives. If you do not pay attention, it will be your last. Today, you will complete a series of simple tasks. Those that fail more than a single task will be disposed of. We don’t need incompetence.” The chief of staff recited this speech without any emotion, for they didn’t need it. It was the same every week. A set of engineered soldiers would be created, and they would complete five tasks during the course of the day. Some would fail, and they would be discarded. Many would be successful, and they would spend the remainder of the week undertaking further training. Eventually, they would be shipped out to serve the military forces. Some of the men in front of him wouldn’t live to see their second day. The rest would be sent to war. He felt nothing. One of the soldiers, however, did. His name was 60. He felt that he should have an actual name, since he was a person, not a number. He was also fearful of what the chief had said. We will die if we fail two tasks? He had just been born. He didn’t want to die. None of his fellow soldiers’ faces showed any emotion. He wondered if his fear was normal. The chief finished speaking. They were marched off to begin their tasks. Their first task was a test of endurance. They had to run for the entirety of the appointed hour through a twisting, uneven track with natural obstacles placed at random intervals. 60 found this easy. He finished along with the majority of his brothers, though he saw some, who hadn’t coped with the obstacles, being pulled away by staff. The second task tested their strength. They had to pull or push weighted objects across a track. 60 found this slightly difficult, but he still completed his duty in time. Others were not so fortunate. Some were pulled away by staff. Others, who had also failed the first task, were escorted by the chief to another room. They would not leave it ever again. The third task saw the remaining soldiers being split across two teams. Their task was to shoot down the other team. 60, barely noticing the weight of the mock rifle in his hands, was skilled in stealth. But he did not do any shooting. Towards the end, however, he found one of the opponents in his crosshairs. He couldn’t press the trigger. This time, he was one of the ones pulled away by the staff. They delivered a simple ultimatum: Never hesitate, be ruthless, and be wary of failure. He could not fail again. He hardly noticed his fourth task, his fear too potent. It was a test of accuracy, and he was relieved to succeed, but all too scared of his fifth and final task. The last task tested his ability to obey orders. The remaining soldiers were placed in a virtual scenario, where they would be raiding and plundering an enemy village, fighting its forces. He could not take the horror he witnessed. “Number sixty, enter the orphanage to your right. Shoot down the staff, take the children hostage. Signal your squad to take refuge there. Number sixty, do you hear me?” He did, but could not believe his ears. Why would anyone do this? He didn’t understand. He dropped his rifle. The ultimatum hadn’t served any purpose. He had been flawed from the beginning. He could never condone this. Later, 60 joined a few others in the small room. Nobody wept for him. ------

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

#3 and #5 tempted me, but I self-voted.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

[Sumiki]

Three. Not only is it my own, but I'm a sucker for historically-based fiction.

[fishers64]

So many good choices! Better press that button and vote for 1 before I change my mind...

[Ballom Nom Nom]

One of the tougher polls to decide in, but I eventually went with number five.~B~

[Velox]

Voted for #5. And polling period over; poll closed.

Edited June 24, 2012 by Velox