I was wondering what people thought of this, mainly the writting. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Red haze sprang forth from evil men into the universe, enveloping an unsuspecting planet in destructions shadow; nine billion lives were stolen from under the cover of darkness. Without life or the ability to generate it the barren women of a world broke into pieces and drifted slowly into the heavens. Across the Cosmos the last remaining planet and the survivors that inherited it looked upon the act with light souls, they had caused this vehement loss of humanity and they were afraid the god that ruled their world was to exact revenge. This is the story of humanities last effort to establish peace before the escalation of war ends in the grandest genocide of history . This is an account of struggle, desperation, revenge, loss, victory and defeat; this is the story of a world and culture so close to implosion that they must dance on the fine line, the thin edge of destruction to survive in the face of the evil that threatens to topple them. Part I: Revelations “In war the key to winning is knowing what losses to cut and when to cut them; the key to living is learning to forgive yourself for it.” ‘Investigations and Scenario Research’ Building: Sardis “I am not fit for this. I am not fit for this. Whose life do I think I’m living?” Maida sat back into his chair and closed his eyes. The questions continued to play in his mind, acting on his insecurities and grinding on his head; Being introverted, he thought, was the worst thing that could happen to a person; although he did have to admit, its sickening how comforting the privacy of the mind can be. Sitting back up he attempted to focus on the work before him, a report on....what the fuck, why did they hire me for? He said nothing aloud but felt as strongly as if someone else had. Maida, a generally peaceful and mentally susceptible man was the absolute anti-type of who he would imagine doing this type of work, looking at pictures like these and analyzing them as if the ground remains of lost life were not people but simply statistics of violent and heinous crimes. He wasn’t weak though, guess that’s the reason they put him where they did. Most of his job was talking to victims families and recovering pieces of the puzzle or even puzzles that had ended in the death of whomever however; its something he could do because he understood at once the importance of preventing further loss of life while respecting as much of the memory as he could, keeping it intact for those left behind. Still though, he thought with a laugh, the guns, the training and the haunting abilities they had given him that had more to do with his job description that with the job he actually did. “Think of it like self defense.” they had told him. “We don’t want you to be a one man army out to fight violent repetitive crime or terrorism by yourself....we just want to keep that option open if you need it!” It was Georges type of joke, full of sarcasm that both rang of truth and hinted at reality. Maida chuckled at an old joke about George and the deputy directory of ISR and it hit him that however much he liked the old bastard there was no getting around some of those hard edges that presented themselves in clear terms. Ironic that George would choose this time to give Maida a call. The phone vibrated in its clip on the outside of his pocket and he sat straight before pressing the talk button. The loud, even and partially giddy tone of George Charis made Maida neither smile nor frown but did cause him to think of doing both. “Maida! I can see you through your window! You haven’t moved since you sat down with the case I gave you. Anything wrong?” “Nope, just trying to get what I can out of what I have before I venture out and start asking questions.” “That way you don’t make any mistakes right? Fucking perfectionists. Anyways...you got a minute?” “Sure, for the guy that signs my checks.” “How bout for the handsome bastard across the room?” “Who’s that...Jerry?” Maida liked the playful banter that George always started with him. Being a ‘handsome bastard’ was a recurring theme of their daily talks. He played along, not because George was his boss but because it took the edge off his job. “Funny, but Jerry hasn’t been lay’d since we brought that last cadaver in.” Maida could only think that his boss’s humor was more than just inappropriate, it was rude, gross and on most levels funny. “So what’s going on then George?” “Down to business, alright alright. Well, actually I’m going to need you to come on over here before we can talk. You okay with that?” “A chat in the bosses office? Doesn’t sound good for me.” “Coffee?” “Yeah thanks, I’ll be there in a second I got to put away some files.” “Soon please.” George hung up. It was probably the way that George had ended the conversation that had Maida anxious. Usually conversations were ended with sly jokes or mean sarcasm but this was different, this was intentional. Inside he toiled about what his boss wanted, George was smart enough to take on the jobs he gave Maida twice over and then some; while Georges humor was disarming it was also deceptive. George was the kind of guy that could turn serious is a moments notice, he was never out of line unless it was planned and his record showed it. Promoted to Director of the Sardisian branch of ISR at only 35 years old it was easy to understand why he had been chosen; he had the ability to lead with good intentions and tact in even the darkest of situations, people respected him because he respected them first, he demanded nothing and got everything. No one ever crossed him and no one ever challenged his decisions because they were always spot on; Maida held him in high respect. As Maida descended on the offices of his coworkers from his glass loft he noticed the bored weekend staff playing cards at the spacious conference table that hogged much of the main room. It looked like a wooden diamond, well polished and preserved in the middle of a rough of cables, cords, computers and components. He could see George in the glass loft office opposite his, sitting at his desk writing on a piece of paper and looking deep in thought. Maida increased his pace to match his interest in whatever was going on. He slipped sideways through the door and shut it slowly until the latch made a soft click of confirmation. George was now across the room behind his desk pouring two cups of coffee. The somber look on his face startled Maida and caused him to sit before he spoke. “Everything okay George?” “No Maida....I’m afraid not. I couldn’t say anything over the phone for reasons I am about to explain but I appreciate your not asking many questions.” Maida didn’t stumble because he knew to keep as quiet as possible until George was through. “No Problem.” “I got a call earlier today, from a man who identified himself with the terrorist group known as the Nicolations. It’s a act of Terrorism Maida and a serious act at that.” “Demands?” “Yeah, but well get to that. First I want you to tell me what you know about the Nicolations.” Maida took a moment to pour over his thoughts and form a starting point. “Well, first obviously that they are the largest underground terrorist organization on Thyatira. They were created fifteen years ago after the destruction of the planet Cyra; originally a peaceful resistance that wanted to get to the bottom of what had actually happened. It is my understanding that over time they were pushed away from the investigation and began to protest and use non-political methods to influence the public, an attempt to make public what they considered the ‘lies’ they were being told. Eventually, after the investigation concluded that Cyra had been destroyed by a weapon of extraterrestrial origin they turned to terrorism and violent means, supposedly to get the ‘true’ conclusion of the Thyatirian government into the hands of the people.” George was nodding his head in agreement. When Maida stopped he leaned into the desk and, hand on chin, asked another question. “What about the current state of their organization?” Maida thought about it again but knew for the most part what to say. “The Nicolations have far reaching contacts, it is rumored they have moles as high as the presidents cabinet. They are also backed by some large funding operations and have access to technology on par with the military of Thyatira. They however no longer, as far as I was told, commit actions of terrorism in another attempt to gain the confidence of the public.” George took his elbow off the desk and sat straight again, looking Maida full in the eye; head slightly nodding still. “Good, that’s the just of it but here’s what’s changed. First, starting today they are again active in their roles as terrorists. Second is that they seem to have changed their goals; because of increased intelligence on their funding bases and rank structure we were able to make some large scale busts and arrests, now they are struggling to stay alive instead of ‘spreading the truth’. The scary thing is that we anticipated they would sit tight and try to get a grasp on the situation without any desperate action that compromised civilian safety; then, when they had been cut off into smaller groups we would take them out one by one. Problem is that they didn’t wait, they must have gotten some information from somewhere inside because they chose the perfect time to start fighting back, they are both unified and highly funded but their troops are scarred and willing to fight to stay alive.” “Like the saying ‘nothing fights harder than a cornered animal’?” “Yeah, exactly.” George smiled somberly.” Now, the demands.” Maida leaned in but said nothing. “Their demand is that we do nothing. No investigations, no research, no assignments nothing. They want us to sweat Maida!” Georges voice got louder for a brief moment. Maida now had a few questions. “What are they threatening that keeps us from acting?” “Viral contamination of the Sardisian populace.” Georges face looked grim and unsure.” “I’m going to assume that we think they have the ability to do that.” “Good assumption. The Nicolations have more than enough access to black market trade and money to buy whatever they want ten times over.” “Alright, and what about the demand, how do we know if were being watched in here?” “Well Maida, as you know my wife is a special woman.” George was laughing slightly. “She’s a...well she’s a....a fucking bitch.” “Is that your way of saying you had to sleep here last night?” “That’s right, in my office. Always keep a change of clothes around here for those type of situations Maida.... you and what’s her name?” “......Aria.” “Aria! Yes Aria, from communications. Anyways, the caller described my tie for me and told me I had bed head.” “Holy Shit! They’re inside, they have men in here!” Maida was suddenly panicked by the situation even though George was downplaying it with humor. Someone on the inside meant more than they had been infiltrated; it meant the complete compromise of all cases they were currently working on, all the agents they had in the field and those former agents who’s identities were secret, even their families. It meant everything. George stopped all movement. “Maida, calm down. There are only so many things we can do and we have to focus. This is not a time to panic, at least not until I tell you my plan.” George smiled.

I think the third person voice you used in describing Maida is distracting in the beginning because it is giving too much opinion. I would leave some room for the reader to observe and form an independent impression, instead of overtly imposing a view about Maida, to show it instead of stating it.


For example:

Quote: Being introverted, he thought, was the worst thing that could happen to a person; although he did have to admit, its sickening how comforting the privacy of the mind can be.

I think this is too overt. Shouldn't the fact that he is an introvert show through his actions and decisions? And why do you need the reader to know that he is an introvert? That knowledge doesn't seem to play a role yet in the story. Personality is something that you shouldn't just state. Don't you want the reader to connect with Maida by letting the reader explore him as an interesting subject?

I still remember the scene in Hollowman when the scientist was working at his desk, he was tired and sat back on his chair and looked up. The ceiling has a message words written in black ink, "You shouldn't be looking at this."

Thanks. I thought Maidas character should be a little more forward than the others (although I think I also type-cast george to early), because later in the story as Maida inwardly fights his fealings of leading a one man offensive against a terrorist group, his G/F gets killed and his intro. character goes a little awry. I did it a bit blatant so that people could see the signs of his getting edgy and finaly the breakdown, but I think now I might think over how I do it. Thanks.