It’s that time of year again; National Novel Writing Month is upon us. For those not in the know, it’s an annual writing challenge to crank out fifty thousand words in thirty days (a little over sixteen hundred a day if you keep up with it). Whether you make it all the way through or not it’s a great little writing exercise because it encourages you to just get the idea out there. You can edit and update it later to turn the pile of jumbled plot arcs and confusing characters into a cohesive and compelling narrative, but first you need to make the jumble so you have something to edit later. If you want to give it a try or find out more about it, get ye hence to NaNoWriMo.org. You can find me there as Orion283, plodding along a few paragraphs at a time. This also means my reviews will be coming just a little bit slower as I’ll be diving into my story idea whenever the ideas hit me, though the review for Rock Band 3 is right around the corner.
For the moment all I’ve got is the little prologue you’d see in the first page or two of the book, but I kinda like how it turned out. I did disobey my own advice from the above paragraph a little though, because as I was writing the scene with two random throwaway characters they went and plotbunnied into legitimate characters who’ll have their own ongoing story arc. Anywho, time to accquire a root beer float and dive back into the writing. In the meantime, behold ye the prologue to… that story about stuff. (I take so long to name things that if I waited til I had a good title for the book I’d never get started).
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“Donuts again? Way to play to the stereotype.”
“Anything to pass the time. Not much else to do these days aside from this and clean-up duty.” Malcom MacIntyre joined his partner in sitting on the hood of the police cruiser, putting the box between them and settling into the aforementioned ‘this’ that primarily involved waiting for something to do. It was a cool September evening, with nice clear weather just right for city-watching from atop the hill by the park. “Did I miss anything interesting?”
Emily Brigham picked out a jelly-filled pastry, turning it about to decide upon an ideal angle of attack. “Nah, just a five-oh-five-alpha and a two-eleven, both taken care of. Red one,” she said as she knocked on the hood.
“Did you see on the news about the Rangers going up against the Warlocks last night? Shut ’em down in under an hour. Blue one,” he said with a knock.
“Leopards would have had it cleaned up in half the time. Green one.”
Malclom eyed the box to see if they remembered the coconut ones this time. “Are you kidding? One of their guys has one arm.”
“Better arm than you.”
“Yeah but he’s got an unfair advantage. Purple one.”
Emily shifted her feet. “Another for the short list of people you’ll admit you couldn’t take in a straight fight?”
“If it was Marquess de Queensberry style I might be able to – heads up!”
The two officers unfortunately had to abandon the remaining donuts, diving to the ground as the box and the police cruiser were crushed into the dirt by a fellow in a red jumpsuit with a flowing white cape falling upon it at an impressive speed, leaving a man-shaped impression on the hood and fragmenting the windshield. Following close behind was a vaguely humanoid robot, leaping after him with intent to shred him with its mighty claws. Despite having landed with sufficient force to pancake an ordinary man he didn’t seem fazed in the least, planting his feet in the robot’s chest as it landed and sending it flying overhead behind him. As he got to his feet a second robot appeared on the scene, one of its gauntlets folding open to reveal some kind of cannon.
A sound not unlike a dozen motorcycles starting up simultaneously heralded a glowing orb launching from its arm cannon. The caped man’s response was to rip the hood off what was left of the police cruiser and use it to deflect the incoming projectile, then hurl the makeshift shield at the previous mechanical assailant attempting to ambush him from behind, embedding one chunk of metal halfway into the other. He dodged the next several shots by levitating into the air, darting about like a humming bird, then then dove in and delivered a series of powerful haymakers that reduced the robot to scrap metal. He then floated over to the two officers, white cape flowing in the night breeze, hovering about as casually as though flying was more natural to him than walking. “Sorry about the cruiser, officers. I trust you can take it from here. Duty calls.” And with that he shot off into the sky towards the city to deal with some other crisis.
Emily looked over the previously peaceful surroundings that were now covered in the smashed car and robot parts, then to the barely-visible cape disappearing into the distance, then to her partner. “White one.”