He doesn’t need money. He doesn’t like it, either, and he always adds “Money is nothing, it’s easy, it’s just a matter of picking it up”. And he thinks anything is a matter of just picking it up, just taking it, if he wants it. And this could all be about money, a lot of it, and a woman, a car, and some ruined property. High class, luxurious property, the kind he likes but will never own. But it isn’t about money. “Ticket, pretty please,” he says. The voice is low and slow, always drawing attention, still drawing attention as he walks into the museum. He’s going to walk in, slowly, he’s not going to run he thinks, especially not towards them. It’s the street, a boulevard, you wouldn’t want to be shooting people there, would you? So now he’s walking in. “You don’t just walk into Mr. ‘s house at night, you don’t just forcefully, loudly open the front door, the beautiful wooden front door, heavy and old and hand-made and hand-picked. And then you certainly don’t shoot holes into his lovely entrance hall, with a mahoghany staircase and the butler,” and now the woman hears him talking about shooting the butler. He laughs, she’s pretty and she had been looking at a painting, then turned towards the low, raspy voice that shot the butler. So he starts again, louder. “You don’t just leave the butler alone, you don’t just shoot the two black dogs that are coming down the staircase and barking now, you don’t just go upstairs and find the bedroom, the sexed-up bedroom and the sexed-down old Mr. with the sexy wife and the silk pajamas, violet, the colour of power and royalty and respectability, and you don’t just disrespect him by taking money from his house at night, just to demean him, and you don’t take his wife, and his pretty pretty car, and you don’t just drive off into the city, with the scared little thing by your side.” He’s walking from one room to the other, a moving man not minding anything around him, not getting upset, not one bit. Just walking, calm, like he owns the place, and he will in just a moment, won’t he? “You don’t just expect not to ever hear from Mr. ever again, really, you don’t, and in fact you hear from him the very next day, as you see the hired guns across the street from the museum, the bou..le..vard, as you walk in. And this isn’t really about the door, or the dogs, the woman, or even the pretty car. It certainly isn’t about the money, not the whole lot of it, for this is about the letter.” He knows there should be more of them just ahead of him, on the upper floors, and there are the ones behind him, and if he could just pace himself a little more, just a bit, not run just yet. “You don’t just take a letter from Mr. and not have a word with him the following day, you don’t just upset him and leave the city without killing his hired guns, his hitmen, his soldiers, that would be impolite. And you don’t run…yet.” This is the first draft of the introduction for a shooter. It is narrated/spoken. Again, first draft, opinions? And also, pray tell me, what does the running theme make you think of, where do you think it's going? Explanation by request. The visuals: man walking up the stairs of a museum. Across the street, two cars parked, people waiting inside. Man walks inside the museum, buys a ticket, talks to himself, stops for a moment and smiles to a woman that looks at him. Starts talking again. He is walkining towards the upper levels of the building. This is the present. What he talks about happened the night before. [Edited by - Classy_Cojones on June 23, 2005 5:34:16 PM]

it sounds VERY promising. But I have to tell you it makes me think an awful lot of Marv, in Miller's Sin City. Just a way cool dude doing his business.

As for the running theme, I think I get a picture. Once he gets up in the room, he finds no one but the wife in violet pajamas, and chooses to go down. The husband has been hiding in some place where he was not found. And the man has to run away, so the chase begins. For the first part of the story, he just keeps talking to himself into how bad he has been behaving by running away from the man without having this talk, while still fleeing from more hitmen. On the second part, he decides he needs to stop fleeing the hitmen, and find the man who hires them. He needs to talk.

Last word he will have with him should be something on the lines of :" I don't care 'bout the money. I don't care 'bout you. I just care 'bout my job. I want my job back. Give me back my job. I am not thrown out. I quit. Give me back my job so I can quit. Make things the proper way."

Some people can go way beyond the limits, seems...

Hmm...thank you, but you missunderstood part of it.

As he walks into this museum, he remembers what he did the night before. The night before he had broken into a house, on purpose, had done a few bad things, taken the wife, the car, money, and a letter. He had taken a letter.

And now, having read it, he goes to discuss its contents, into the museum, which is run by the man whose house he had broken in.

The intro is meant to be an intro into the mindset and actions of the main character. You could say he resembles Marv, at the basic level of determination. He, however, has a different attitude.

This is basically a plot seed. Shows a bit of the character, and introduces purpose...the letter. Running, however, is the theme of violence, agression, bloodlust, the ability of the main character to run into combat getting all wound-up and thus increasing his abilities.

I really like the writing style...but if you were to draw up a story board as to when each part would be said and what the character was doing, it would make this whole intro clearer.

Again, I really like the writing style. I can't quite place my finger on what it reminds me of...but its something good.

Well, nothing you said forbids what I said to happen. Apart from the fact that it was the previous night, and even that can be put aside. What if the letter was a dismissing letter? Okay, that would mean the man does NOT have to buy the ticket, but apart from that objection, I can't find much to say. Maybe he's had a very active night fleeing the men. Maybe not.

Maybe I really did not understand a thing about what you said, after all...