CoH Fan Fiction

[Christopher Robin]

Well it's not a toad-ally un-frog-givable offense. It's not off fly that marsh, just a little rib-bit.

She Polly just frog-got. I'm sure if you toad her to re-reet it she would be hoppy to do so.

 

Yus! The pun-nishment returns!

 

 

 

Edited December 30, 2019 by Christopher Robin

[Dacy]

Ah! Been so long since I cruised by! The holidays were, um, well..."busy" isn't an adequate word. Suffice it to say, I have not had a lot of time to peruse, much less answer, on the forums. I'm looking forward to the next installment of whatever size, QB. 🙂 You, too, iynx!

 

-Dacy

[iynx]

333 days to lockdown

nervous dreck

 

Meet people. It was an advice Dr. Fine had given Proud earlier. And Proud had done that. Pocket D was an interdimensional nightclub, owned and overseered by no other than DJ Zero himself. There no-one could hurt Proud. And vice versa.

 

Thus, it was a safe place for her to meet people. Keeping in mind, that if she ended up fighting and hurting someone, it would be the end of her probation.

 

And she ended up fighting someone. Luckily, the weapons of the fight were not fists, lightnings or arrows. Although the verbal fight she initiated had not endangered her probation, it did not make her feel happy. She had met someone, a young hero, white male. Maybe a year or two older than her? They had started to play pool together, while Proud had educated him about some matters important to her. The man had started to mansplain his point of view, clearly not understanding the importance of the matters precious to Proud, and having an opposite point of view to Proud's. That had not ended well. It had ended with Proud walking away from him, angered. Feeling the same anger she had when she…

 

The passenger side door of the sheriff’s SUV opened, and her deputy jumped off the vehicle, closing the door, looking inside the vehicle once more, and dashing away. Proud wasn’t interested in him, instead, she shouted in rage at the SUV in front of her:

 

”GET OUT OF THE DAMN TRUCK!!!”

 

Proud staggered back first to the wall, grasping into her black leather jacket, inhaling violently. Her neck was strained and she clenched her teeth, forcing the memories she re-lived in her head to part from her. And they did. She collected herself again, standing back up and continuing her walk towards the exit to Kings Row. She was still sweating cold sweat, and shivering, taking few step astray from her path. Kings Row bouncer on her way looked at Proud, and Proud gave the bouncer a cold stare. The anxiety attack had passed, just nearly, but it had passed. Angered, sad, shivering and sweating from her anxiety near-miss, she opened door to Kings Row, and the dimensional shift threw her out of truck doors to an alley in Kings Row. Right in the middle of an assault scene.

 

A bald, scarred and bruised woman was laying on the ground. Next to her was her assailant, another woman wearing a helmet. A hero? Maybe, because the woman on the ground was a Skull gangmember, without a doubt. But who had that Skull attacked? There was no victim anywhere to be seen.

 

”I take it you were put up to this?”

 

It was the Skull woman speaking. She had been beaten up and had to support her upper body up from the ground by her arms. The hero woman looked like she would have taken another free shot at the Skull woman, if Proud had not come out of Pocket D, directly in the middle of the scene.

 

”The [censored]?”, exclaimed Proud.

 

The hero woman turned her head sharply at Proud and said: ”...Ce n'était pas moi!"

 

Then she was gone. Bolted back into Pocket D before Proud had time to recover from her surprise, leaving her in the scene, next to a beaten Skull gangmember. Gangmember or not, the woman on the ground was beaten, and now with her, there was only Proud. And Proud did not have a hero license. If the cops found her like that, would they believe the truth? What if the Skull died?

 

”[censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored]...”, cursed Proud. It was like a mantra to her, but it didn’t help anything. She started to become nervous. The anxiety that had passed her earlier, took a turn back and set her on a collision course.

 

”Heey... She run off?”, asked the battered Skull woman on the ground. Proud didn’t properly realize that. She was more worried if the cops found her like that, next to a beaten woman.

 

”This isn't happening...”, Proud muttered. She touched her hair lightly and walked nervously around a small circle, like turning in her place. Then she kneeled next to the beaten woman:

 

”Don't be dead.. don't be dead.. don't be dead.. don't be dead..”

 

Proud still didn’t realize the woman was alive, and the woman was conscious and baffled that Proud tried to check for her vitals.

 

”Huh? Hey, chiapet. I'm alive. I wouldn't be talking otherwise”, said the Skull woman. Proud let out a sigh, shivering nervously, but only lightly. She started to feel her heart beat faster, but she was able to keep that under check. The beaten up Skull woman sat up, and lit a cigarette.

 

”Hey, can you like... get into the hosp without me? I’m on probation.”, said Proud.

 

”Yeah, I get [censored] up all the time. I'm fine.”, said the Skull woman. She spat out one of her teeth and took a long drag of her cigarette.

 

Then, out of the blue, the anxiety HIT Proud Spirit.

 

Her anxiety had set it’s sights back on her a moment ago, and now it hit her at it’s full power, suddenly rendering her a violently shaking, sweating, nervous dreck.

 

”Jesus, kid what's your malfunction?!”, exclaimed the Skull woman, ”Never see an assault before?”

 

”Nuthing! Yeah, no!”, tried Proud to answer. It was not easy for her.

 

”Man, you MUST be new to Kings Row”, said the Skull woman, watching Proud floundering helplessly in her crippling anxiety.

 

”I've gotta..”, muttered Proud. She was able to guide her hand inside her jacket pocket, and pull out a plastic tube of pills. The Skull woman was saying something, but Proud could not hear her anymore. It took all of Proud’s concentration to open the tube, get some pills out and put the pills into her mouth. Proud swallowed them quickly, and hoped she would not puke them out.

 

The Skull woman witnessed how the palsied, slender green haired girl collapsed onto ground in front of her.

 

”Umm... [censored]. [censored] God Damnit.”, cursed the Skull woman and got up to pick the green hair girl up.

 

”….ey...”

”….hey...”

”….Hey...peace...”

”Hey. Green-Peace. You awake? Can you drink this water?

 

The voice of the Skull woman echoed inside of Proud’s head. Proud tried to focus her eyes. She was laying on her back, eyes up to a...ceiling? She was inside of a building. On top of a bed. The sweat had dried inside of her clothes, and made her stink like a bum. She sat up and saw the Skull woman again.

 

”Who are you?”, asked Proud, and got an answer from the Skull woman promptly:

 

”Dan. My name's Dan. Who the [censored] are you?”

 

The Skull woman shoved a bottle of water to Proud’s hand, aggressively. Proud took the bottle, she grasped her hands around it and answered:

 

”Chill mother[censored], I'm Proud.”

 

”Chill!? [censored] I got my ass beat and YOU almost died! How the [censored] does that even work!?”

 

Proud took a sip of her water and answered: "Just got panicked, that's all."

 

The Skull woman looked at the green hair girl, who tried to avoid looking her eye contact, and asked: ”So, what like a blood pressure issue? Anxiety disorder?”

 

Proud laughed powerlessly, ending her laugh in a way it sounded more like a muffled cry. Then she tried to explain: ”It depends which shrink you ask. Mal said I'm a schizo, Irina said I ain't, Kai.. I dunno. Anyway, no police, ok?”

 

The Skull woman nodded lightly: ”Yeah no police. Nevermind I never talk to shrinks so I for sure don't know those people.”

 

Proud took another sip of the water and asked: ”You alright? What was that tussle?”

 

”Huh? Oh I'm pretty sure a friend of mine hired that french [censored] to kick the [censored] outta me. So no point in fighting. She slipped me a cool fifty bucks”, answered the Skull woman.

 

”Why the [censored] would a friend want another friend get her ass kicked?” Proud asked.

 

”Because Proud, I'm the worst [censored] person you've ever met”, answered Dan, the Skull woman.

 

Proud started to laugh. Loud.

 

She closed her eyes while laughing and saw her hands grabbing the roof a mauled sheriff’s SUV, and then tearing the roof off like it was tinfoil. She remembered throwing the roof somewhere behind her, and remembered the sound that it made when it hit the ground, at the same time she saw the open eyes of-

 

”Yeah, seems weird after I dragged you here and handed you water but I'm at least in the top three”, said Dan, the Skull woman at about the same moment Proud’s laugh died in silent tears. Proud grimaced, blinked her eyes and tried to get the sight off her mind. She knew it would never truly go away, but she could shove it somewhere background.

 

Proud opened her eyes and asked Dan: ”What did you do?”

 

”Me? A lot of [censored]. I'm a drug addicted, serial killing, cannibalistic...”

 

Proud didn’t really listen to Dan anymore. The sight of the glazed eyes she had seen was haunting her.

 

”Paroled? Probation? Escaped? Or never caught?”

 

Proud asked the question, but didn’t really care about an answer. She just wanted to say something to divert her mind off the eyes she had seen.

 

”I... Never got super caught... I sorta made a deal so that...”

 

It didn’t probably look like it, but Proud’s attention was nowhere near. It looked like she was listening to Dan, and in some manner she was. And she tried. She tried her best to shove the painful memory background, out of her mind, and concentrate in the present. Into the words Dan spoke.

 

”Hand drawer. Ooh, he was married. Marcones always have the nicest rings...”

 

That snapped Proud out of her memories. She saw Dan holding a gray human hand she had took from a drawer, and pulling a ring off of the finger of the hand. Proud became genuinely scared. She jumped on her feet and backed to a wall. She was standing on a bed, pushing her back tightly to the wall behind her.

 

Dan was still sitting nicely in front of a dressing drawer, and admiring the ring she had pulled off the finger of the hand.

 

”Yeah. I wasn't [censored] kidding. You however are exempt from my list of victims” said Dan, the Skull woman. Proud was too scared to move. She kept pressing herself tightly to the wall. Yes, she had been a superhero before, but she had no proper superpowers anymore. And even with her powers, she had never actually fought a supervillain. And now there was a real, dangerous supervillain with her.

 

”You stopped to check on me soo... Yeah, I'm not going to [censored] with you. That and you're like... A kid? I don't hurt kids. Ever.”

 

After saying that Dan, the Skull woman took a brief glance at Proud and saw, how Proud was scared. Dan scoffed: ”So what did you do that was so bad? Jay-walking?”

 

Proud bit her lip and made herself to calm down. She took a cautious step closer to Dan, and sat down on the bed again. Then she sighed: ”Class A felony.” She waited for a moment, but apparently Dan didn’t know what that meant. ”It’s just a [censored] profound way to say that. I just… killed someone”, added Proud. ”I’d rather not”, she exclaimed silently, not really sure if Dan heard her.

 

”First one is always rough… Don't worry kid. Easier when you get to number five or six”, said Dan. Proud heard that, and raised her eyes to look at Dan.

 

Few moments later Proud was staggering down the stairs from Dan’s hideout to Rogue Isles street. The Skull woman had let her go, to catch a portal back to Paragon City. The words Dan had said earlier echoed in Proud’s mind:

 

”First one is always rough… Don't worry kid. Easier when you get to number five or six”

 

Proud zipped her black leather jacket shut, buried her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket, and walked towards an illicit, hidden portal to Paragon City.

[EyeLuvBooks]

On 10/3/2019 at 4:28 PM, QueenBethari said:

@EyeLuvBooks Bravo! The first entry was absolutely riveting. It started off like Silence of the Lambs, then went totally...violent. 

I'm intrigued about the first 16 parts of the second entry. Who is this villain, why is he masquerading as a hero, and what kind of cat is he petting? I must know!

Major MENACE is a tongue-in-cheek villain I invented back when CoV was Live. He is loosely based off of the bad guy from Inspector Gadget in that he likes cats and Dr Evil from the Austin Powers series as well as the infamous Cobra Commander. I used him as a major bad guy in my Champions PnP game and he was the laughingstock of the world because every time he tried to accomplish some mad scheme he'd sabotage himself somehow. I used to have all kinds of canned phrased on buttons in his power tray. He was one of the first characters I reconstituted after we came back.

[EyeLuvBooks]

(I want to thank everyone for their responses. I write fan fiction mostly to keep my fiction writing skills sharp but apparently some of you actually like reading it so...by popular request here is the beginning of the personal log of Major MENACE)

 

Plans for Global Domination

Part 1

By Major MENACE

I am forced to re-start this journal which is ironic because today I also had to re-start my criminal career. My plans were nearly complete. My base in the Rogue Isles was secure, or so I thought. The mind-control satellite was prepped and ready to fly. Then the Arachnos agents broke in and everything was ruined. I managed to escape with my life and but one minion, my pilot Hugo. We escaped in the mini-sub and made our way here to Paragon city. If I am to begin again, I must adopt a different tack.

Hugo and I arrived in the dead of night. This was fortunate because the streets were empty and we were able to move about unobserved. We made our way to the Icon in Atlas Park. Being a long-standing client and holding a black membership card, I was entitled to 24-hour service. I had a new costume fashioned for myself and Hugo and then returned to the streets. Our first point of order was weapons. Hugo has his submachinegun but I had naught but my fists. We remedied this by waylaying several Hellion members and relieving them of their weapons and cash. The bodies will be found in the morning but no matter. There is no evidence linking them to us.

We continued to move about Atlas Park, ambushing various gangs and acquiring their meager possessions. By dawn we’d also managed to find another recruit, a man named Mortimer Gant. He is strong, reliable, and best of all ambitious. He and Hugo armed themselves with the best gear we had available and there was a weapon left for me as well.

My next port of call was the City Hall. Hugo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I registered myself as a newly-arrived hero named Maxx Tacc. I inquired about available locations for a small headquarters and was told that the only space in my price range was a closed-off portion of the sewer and former subway tunnel. However, I took it because the price was right (free) and arranged to have a few pieces of basic equipment delivered. It pays to have funds stashed in unlikely places in case of emergencies.

By the end of the day I’d managed to make my poor excuse of a base livable and I’d also managed to ingratiate myself with the Paragon Police Department, both by introducing my team to them and then promptly aiding them in foiling an ill-planned bank robbery.

It has been a long and frustrating 24 hours but now as I sit back and look at the big picture, I can see how this benefits me. I will take what I learned from the Rogue Isles and apply it here. I will use these foolish ‘heroes’ to help me eliminate my rivals, leaving me the criminal overlord by default.

Note to self: Remember to stop by the Paragon Pet Rescue tomorrow. I find myself in need of company and I might find what I seek there.

[Nebularian]

Okay.  It has been a while since I posted in here. Love what has been written!
I mentioned that I might post my stuff...but to be honest, I have never liked the way my stories looked when posted in a forum. (yes, I am really particular about the appearance LOL).

In any case, I have looked and, unless I missed it (which is entirely possible) I saw nothing that said I could not post a link to my stories.  If there is..PLEASE remove this.

Okay, I have been writing Fan fiction since 1999,  I had all but stopped reading comics after DC destroyed what I loved with the Crisis on Infinite Earths in '85.  A friend convinced me to write a story and I did..I resurrected the Pre Crisis Supergirl in the Marvel Universe - writing as Dylan Clearbrook. 
 From there, what was a monthly installment in an online mag turned into a complete website called The Continuum Worlds.  I took a lot of liberties with the characters and created a new universe called (tada) the Multiverse which included the five remaining earths of Crisis, a Marvel Earth, the three original earths of my Multiverse, and the post crisis earth.z

My main character was an older Kara Zor-El (superwoman) but I had a much younger version who was rescued from a monster named Xenon living on Probability 4 Earth (what used to be Earth 1).  This is the Supergirl who appears in the following stories.  (Convoluted, I know but this works as a short intro)

And here is the link to what was originally supposed to be my Primalverse Stories: Primalverse

Edited March 17, 2020 by Nebularian

[EyeLuvBooks]

I go away for a few weeks and look what happens. People get creative. That's what we do here...create. I've enjoyed reading everything posted so far and look forward to more.

[iynx]

322 days to lockdown
confined

 

A man was standing on a street, with a lit cigarette on his lips. His name was Vic Evans, better known as Moopy. It was both his nickname and his hero moniker. He took a long drag of his cigarette. 

 

Menthol.

”This has to do”, he muttered. A female pedestrian hugged her book tighter, avoided eye-contact with Moopy and walked past him, a thin, young male figure in his late teens wearing black velvet trench coat, army boots and sporting black mohawk, black eyeliner and unnaturally pale skin. He was not a villain. Obviously, he was way too clean and overdressed for a Skull lieutenant. He didn’t have any mask, either.

”This has to do, [censored] [censored]”, he muttered again, when a jet black 4-door sedan parked on the pavement next to him. Two men got out of the vehicle, one from the driver’s, one from the passenger's side.

”Vic! How are you my friend!”, shouted the balding man in beige suit. He had been driving the car. After shouting his greeting he turned to slip a plastic note with Paragon Plan One -logo under the windshield wiper.

”My name is still Moopy, Saul”, reminded Moopy.
”Yeah, yeah, right… you remember Ryan?”

Saul gestured to a man who had come out of the vehicle from the passenger's side. And no, Moopy didn’t remember this Ryan, a mammoth of a man who walked straight to Moopy, towering over him and covering him from the sun like a blimp. The man had broad shoulders, wide jaw and low forehead. Everything in that man’s physical presence underlined the fact that he was a brawler and a scrapper, someone whose main function in this world was to hurt other people. He was bald, and his skin tone was tanned. And when Moopy shaked his hand, he felt his hand was viced inside of a warm shovel made of human flesh.

”Howdy Moopy. I went by the name ’AbsoDestro’. Short for Absolute Destruction”, said Ryan to Moopy. Ryan talked slowly, having pauses in between words, like he was getting lost in his words in the middle of his own sentence.

”Former cape? No more spandex?”, asked Moopy. Ryan stopped shaking Moopy’s hand, but didn’t release it, pausing to think of an answer like a buffering online video.
”Oh yeah. Some trouble with the FBSA. But PPO got me covered. I still have a hero licence”, answered Ryan after his pause, and released Moopy’s hand.
”So, you? A Skull turned into a hero?”, asked Ryan. Moopy inhaled some tobacco smoke and blew it out through his nose.
”Nah. I’m a Skull only by my biological mother’s side. I was raised by a hero after adoption. But a hero myself? I never even... started”, answered Moopy.
”Gentlemen”, interrupted Saul, who took a brown leather briefcase out of the car and then locked it’s doors with a remote, ”You know the drill today? Paragon Plan One cut funding for a promising, but non-superpowered individual here, and we need to get her out of the apartment. By force, if needed.”

 

Ryan cracked his knuckles and snorted. Saul waggled his finger: ”She is still, technically a high-profile person and we at Paragon Plan One do not need any negative media attention. Let’s not hurt her unnecessarily. Right, Ryan?”

 

”A high-Profile person. How? Who is she?”, asked Moopy while he watched Ryan nodding slowly.
”Her name is Proud Spirit. Yes, she is a child of Mountain Spirit”, answered Saul. Name-dropping didn’t impress Moopy, but Ryan tried to whistle, with the lips he had damaged during his brawlful hero career. The whistle wasn’t successful, but Moopy understood Ryan was impressed.
”What?”, asked Moopy, having no clue who they were talking about. Moopy had been out of the US for about 10 years.
”She has been depowered. Mr Moopy here is an expert in healing and mind control. We just go up there, and ask her to leave. She leaves, and everyone will be happy”, said Saul.
”She is dangerous. How dangerous?”, asked Moopy.
”As I told you, she has been depowered and she doesn’t have the Spirit family powers anymore. She is on probation under special conditions, because she has been convicted as a minor and then the state of her sanity at the time of her crimes was questioned-”
”State of her sanity? Is she crazy?”, Moopy interrupted Saul again. Saul had to collect her thoughts before answering. He was about to open his briefcase and already had his hand on the lock of the briefcase, but he changed his mind. Then he answered:
”Yes. She is delusional and irrational. But she is usually medicated. And she has been depowered. And we got Ryan here, and you. I’m confident we three can get her out of the apartment without any trouble.”

 

Moopy looked up the outer wall of the building, tilting her head.

 

”After all, she is just a non-superpowered girl of 18 years of age, and we got a veteran brawler and a mindcontroller in our team. What could possibly go wrong?”, said Saul and marched to the front door of the building, gesturing for the two men to follow him.

 

All the three took an elevator to the seventh floor of the building. Moopy could see the building was new. Walls, floors, lights, everything was new. Thick dark gray carpet on the floor suffocated the noise of their steps and made walking almost uncomfortable. When Moopy looked to his sides, he could see his reflection on the glossy, clear marble walls. People behind the Paragon Plan One had money. And when those people were investing into valuable assets -such as superheroes- they didn’t cut down on expenses.

 

Unless, their investment was deemed profitless.

 

”Miss Spirit, this is Saul Bright of Paragon Plan One! Please open the door!”

 

Saul rang the electrical doorbell again. The tune of the doorbell was made of electrical, hollow beebs that two of the men maybe felt familiar.
Then silence.

 

”Miss Spirit! Are you in there?!”
Saul was directly in front of the door, and started to knock on the door, while calling Proud Spirit to answer.

 

”Miss Spirit! We represent Paragon Plan One, the owner of the apartment and unless you open the door, we are obliged to enter using the master keycard!”

 

Nobody answered Saul’s call.

 

”Miss Spirit! We have a right to enter the apartment, and we will do so now!”

 

Moopy cursed silently and quickly mindscanned what was behind the door. It was one of his superpowers: he could sense people, humans and other sentient beings by their thoughts, feelings and emotions. The apartment was empty, except for a spot in the living room. Just maybe 6 or 8 feet from the door. There was a sentient mind in there.

 

”Saul, she is in there, I mind scanned the apartment. She is alone”, said Moopy, with a foul stench in his mouth. It wasn’t real: sometimes the feelings he could sense manifested themselves as scents or tastes.

”Can she hear us?”, asked Saul.
”Yes”, said Moopy, and added quickly, ”But she isn’t coming to open the door. Just use the master keycard.”

 

Saul swiped the keycard, and the luxurious glossy door opened to the apartment. They entered, Saul first, then Ryan. Moopy was behind them, slightly reluctant to meet the person he had sensed. First they had to step over a pile of unopened letters and advertisements, and then they were in a dim lit apartment. The window blinds were shut, and they blocked the sun from the apartment. Moopy closed the door behind him, turned to face the sofa and stood on his spot, looking at a motionless pile of something on the sofa. Saul found the control panel of the blinds on a wall and opened the blinds, letting the sunlight fill the apartment. As the blinds slowly opened, Moopy saw how the sunlight uncovered a slender, green hair girl in a slumped posture sitting on the sofa. Discovering that there was someone in there, came as a bit of a shock to Saul and Ryan. But there she was, Proud Spirit. Wearing a worn, red t-shirt and black leather pants. No socks. Just sitting there and staring at a spot on the floor in front of her.

 

Saul straightened his tie, and pulled a badge from his jacket.
”Miss Spirit. I’m Saul Bright and I represent Paragon Plan One. I’m afraid we have dire news to tell you, miss Spirit.”
He kept his badge under the face of the girl, who was still motionless, but not dead. She was breathing, if nothing more. Saul put his badge back into his jacket pocket. Then he pulled a chair from underneath a living room corner bar to himself, lifted it in front of the girl while still awkwardly holding his briefcase in his hands, and placing the chair in front of the girl. Saul wasn’t that strong, and this effort brought a drop of sweat to his forehead. Then he sat down on the chair and continued:
”We at Paragon Plan One help young, promising heroes with potential to start their career in heroism. Our best experts believed that you, a heir to the well-known Spirit family and a seven year veteran of heroism, would strive to become one of Paragon’s best heroes. We are sorry to find out that our experts were wrong, miss Spirit.”

 

Moopy looked at the slender green hair girl. She kept sitting in the same position, hardly moving at all. Her head was down, her eyes cast on the floor. Moopy could still see her pupils moving. Jittering, but not aiming at any of the people in the room, nor their feet. It looked like the girl’s eyes were chasing an invisible laser dot on the expensive looking, orient carpet on the floor.

 

”He is going to drop the bomb now, get ready.” It was Ryan, thinking aloud in a manner Moopy could not miss.

 

”We have found out that you have not attended any classes of the hero academy you were accepted into. We have also learned that you have not attended any regular psychiatric sessions past your first visit. And we have reason to believe you have not been honest to your probation officer about these matters. Therefore, it is my utmost unfortunate duty to inform you the funding given to you, including this housing, has been withdrawn. We already sent you a letter informing you about this regrettable turn which… as I can see...”

 

Saul got up, turned away from the girl and walked to the front door. There, he bowed to pick one, unopened letter from the pile of letters, advertisements and free newspapers in front of the door. He raised up, lifted the letter to the level of his head and walked back in front of the green hair girl. Saul wagged the Paragon Plan One envelope in front of the green hair girl, who still had not raised her eyes from the floor.
”...you have not opened.”

 

”Here it comes, Vic! Anything?!” Ryan’s thoughts were pumping, pulsating excitement, ready to fight. The green hair girl felt… numb. She was just sitting slumped on the sofa, looking at the floor.
”I’ll take a look” prompted Moopy to Ryan, mentally. Then he dived into the mind of the green hair girl.

 

”I hereby state that you have no right to stay in this apartment any longer. You should take your belongings and leave immediately, or these two fine gentlemen here will escort you out”, Saul continued. Vic backed out from the mind of the green hair girl.

 

”Saul. Ryan. I think we should leave”, he said with haste, speaking as fast as he could, leaving only tiny pauses in between words. Saul laughed:
”No, it is miss Spirit who will leave this-”
”[censored] this [censored] I’m out!!!” After hearing Moopy suddenly shouting that, Saul and Ryan saw an image of Moopy running out of the apartment, taking off from there like he was in a life-threatening danger. As the two saw their mind-reading healer escaping the room, that was residing an individual classified dangerous and erratic by the FBSA, the two PPO agents looked at the ominous silent figure of the girl, and rushed out of the apartment themselves.

 

At the door, Moopy made Saul drop his master keycard. And after the two PPO agents were out of the apartment, following the phantasm he had created of himself in their minds, Moopy got up, walked to the door, picked up the keycard Saul had dropped, and then shut the door. Then he turned back to look at the girl with the green hair. She had not moved. Moopy put the keycard to his pocket and walked a couple of steps towards the girl, then turned away from her and went to the hi-tech kitchen of the apartment. There, he took a blender, filled it half with ice, half with cold water. And then blended that mixture and took the glass jar with him to the living room.

 

The ice-cold torrent of water woke Proud Spirit out of her half-slumber. She became full-conscious in a second, staring incredulously at the pale man who had just poured a full blender jar of glacial water on her.

 

”What the [censored] did you just do?!”, she shouted.
”Wake up [censored], reality calls”, Moopy answered, and put the empty blender jar on a transparent table next to the ice-water soaked girl on the sofa.
”What did you call me?!”, screamed the girl.
”I called you an [censored]. Because that is what you are. I took a look into your mind. I know what you’ve done”, smugged Moopy. That shut the girl up. She just stared into the eyes of him. Moopy took the chair and turned it around, then sitting on it, facing the girl boldly.

 

”Hey, I’m not going to be an [censored] to you. At least, not any more than this. Get your stuff and get out. I know you heard and understood what Saul just told you”, Moopy said. The girl just looked at him at first, and then she started to stray her eyes off Moopy.
”No drifting away or you’ll get a new ice-slushie”, warned Moopy, grabbing the jar of the blender back into his hands. The girl shot a fierce look back into Moopy and hissed: ”Where the [censored] I go now?”
”It’s your problem. You [censored] up. Deal with it, [censored]”, answered Moopy. There was a short silence after their exchange, then the face of the girl started to twitch. Moopy didn’t say anything, he just got up, pulled the girl up with him, and walked her to the balcony of the apartment. The girl was almost nothing but a doll and Moopy literally put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it. The girl inhaled, and then took a hold of the cigarette, resuming to smoke it normally. Moopy lit one for himself, too.

 

”You cool now?”, he asked after a moment. The girl nodded, but didn’t look at him.
”Right. You’ve got people. That shrink I saw in your mind. And the hero academy. Deal with the [censored] you’ve done, move on and be a hero”, he told her.
”I can’t be a hero after what I’ve done”, whispered the girl, almost inaudibly. Looking away from the guy.
”And why do you think that?”, asked Moopy.
”I’m [censored] evil. Evil people can’t be heroes”, said Proud.
”You regret what you’ve done?”
”YES! [censored] yes I do!”, shouted Proud back at Moopy, directly at his face. Moopy kept cool. He kept smoking and looking at the distressed girl for a long time, her face in front of his. Then, after thoroughly going through his train of thought, he said:

 

”The evil don’t regret. You regret. You’re not evil. Not anymore.”

 

Moopy stubbed out his cigarette and didn’t look at the girl. She was starting to become a sprinkler.
”I saw into your mind. You understand what you’ve done. You know you’ve done wrong. But, it’s not too late to start doing good again. You will never again be a hero anyone looks up to. Not after what you did. But you can be a hero. And hey, please get away from this apartment as quickly as possible so I don’t lose my job. I'm going to check with my boss now.”

 

Then he left. He hurried away from her. He walked away from the balcony, from the apartment to the luxurious passageway to the elevators. He pressed a button to call the elevator and heard his own words echoing in his head:

 

”It’s not too late to start doing good again.”

The elevator arrived, Moopy stepped in and pushed the ground level button angrily. He put his hand to his coat pocket and felt his Paragon Plan One badge there. Paragon Plan One was a multi-million dollar charity organization and not any kind of authority, not at all: they just liked to title their employees ”agents” and ”operatives”. An idea intruded into Moopy’s mind when he walked out of the elevator and out of the building, in the middle of a swarming chaos of PPO ”operatives” and ”associates”. That scene took Moopy by surprise. Few of them, wearing armors badged with PPO logos, took him to Saul and Ryan, who were talking with someone, apparently in charge of an operation to…
”...neutralize the threat of the Spirit-girl, without endangering the other residents of the building or our own operatives. Mister Evans, glad you could join us. Where were you?”

 

Moopy pointed his finger up, trying to make it clear without words that he had been in the apartment the whole time. Moopy didn’t know who was the man in PPO operative uniform, in charge of an operation Saul apparently had called up. The man in uniform continued to give orders to people around him, while Saul was nodding, crossing his arms, leaning back and looking important. They probably wanted to think they were part of some kind of a police or hero operation. But for Moopy, it looked more like something Crey would do.

 

“Alpha team, Beta team and team Ypsilon are ready, agent Bright! Agent Evans has come out of the building and we can carry on phase one of the extraction. I’m giving a “go!” to team Alpha now, agent Bright.”

 

Moopy turned his head, looked behind him, and then looked back at the PPO commander, Saul and Ryan. Moopy shook his head and said: “You don’t need to do that. You don’t need to go up there to get the Spirit girl. Just call everything off now, okay?”
Saul laughed shortly: “Vic! You are not in a position to give orders to commander Morgan. This is strictly a level Omega operation now. We at the level-”
“I don’t give a flying [censored] about the Omegas, Ypsilons, Betas or anything. You just don’t need to go there. Not anymore”, huffed Moopy. The PPO commander approached Moopy, and said with an authority:
“Agent Moopy! You are not in command here. Stay back, and see how the Omega level operatives take care of this!”

 

Then the commander talked something to a radio phone microphone on his collar, and Moopy could see people in PPO uniforms and armors gathering near the entrance of the building. Most of them had non-lethal weapons such as stunner-rods and batons, some were readifying their super powers. They were seemingly deemed more capable to take care of a situation they thought they had in their hands. More capable than Saul, Ryan and Moopy. The three of them watched from afar, as the more capable Omega team marched inside of the building. The PPO commander focused and produced three magical, misty displays around his head. Like ethereal computer displays, that started to relay him visual feed of how his operatives advanced inside of the building.

 

“Waste of time”, huffed Moopy and fished his PPO badge into his hands, sitting down on a hood of a PPO branded vehicle. Ryan took a few steps closer to Moopy, blocking the sun again with his huge frame.
“Why? She is a powerful psychopath? She is going to level them all to the ground?” Ryan asked Moopy. Moopy touched his nose, glanced a look at Saul and answered: “No. She is not the psychopath around here.” Saul was smirking, a smug expression was on his face while he was standing behind the PPO commander, looking how his men were going to take out a confused, troubled teenage girl out of her home. Moopy sighed, put his PPO badge back to his pocket, and exchanged a pack of cigarettes into his hand, he then put one of the smokes onto his lips, took out a lighter and lit the cigarette. He took a few drags and said: “No. It’s just no use to go there when she isn’t there anymore. While these clown soldiers, blinded by their egoes, were assembling, she walked out of that door. Maybe two minutes ago.” 

 

A block away from them, a hunched figure of a girl was walking down the street. She wore a hoodie under her jacket, and the hood of that hoodie was covering her green hair. She had thought maybe it was a good idea to put as much clothes she had on her, because she really didn’t have much bags to fill with her stuff. She had just grabbed something, put some extra clothes on and walked out of her apartment. She thought about what the guy with a mohawk had said. Her psychologist. The hero academy. Maybe even Dan? She could go somewhere. She had people to go to. Her phone started to buzz in her jacket pocket. She stopped and took it out of the pocket, unlocked it and saw a new message. It was from a therapy cat she had met in Pocket D. She started to read the message when someone bagged her. Literally. 

 

A thick bag of some sort of special, durable material was pulled on her, covering her into darkness and making her drop her phone on the street. She felt she was wrangled to the ground, and her hands, that were left outside the bag, were tied. Then she could feel her being lifted up off the ground, carried and thrown somewhere. She could feel her head colliding with a metal interior, and a stench of motor oil intruding into the dark bag she was trapped inside of. Then she heard a male voice saying, with a slight Italian accent:

 

“We’ve got the girl confined. Call the widow.”

 

 

Edited May 14, 2020 by iynx

[BlackSiren]

This is my first fiction work. I want to learn to write better so I accept any kind of constructive criticism about the plot and English grammar and vocabulary. English is not my mother tongue so there may be mistakes. This is about my Ice based character Frost, I couldn't come up with a more creative name :)) I am very good at describing fighting scenes. I find them tedious. :))

Note: There is swearing within the text.

 

 

                                                                                                                   Frost’s origin story

 

 

It was pitch dark in the room and Dr. Holliday started to feel uneasy. It was too long since he heard from his associates. Disposing of a body can be a dangerous and not an easy task for an amateur, but they have done so many times that for them it was literally a walk in the park. But that idiot Sullivan hasn’t checked in for 20 hours. The moron is fucking cop for god’s sake. What is taking so long? It is not the first time he has done it. Something must have happened or that idiot forgot his phone again. Anyways I have more pressing matters to attend to than getting frustrated. Like fixing THESE GODDAMMED RUNES. IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED...IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED. Dr Holliday could no longer control his rage and in his outburst thrashed his documents from his desk. Sighing, he put his head in the desk and grabbed his hair with hands. Maybe tomorrow he could get a through the university’s files and pick a new candidate. The candidate must have been soiled somehow, but he checked and made sure that was no the case. Who knows? Maybe it was not to be this time. The FUCKING 62^nd attempt.

The silence in the and room and his train of thoughts were interrupted a buzz. It was his phone. Then, the phone buzzed again. He finally puller his strength and lifted his head. He took the phone from his pocket and opened his messages. The light from his phone illuminated his face revealing a deep frowning lines on his aged face. There a single sentence that perturbed him again and rekindled his rage.

I am cold.

Idiot! What took you so long? Do you think that your job is the hard part? Try to translate the same DAMMED text again!

Holliday put the phone on his desk, but then it buzzed again. He checked his phone sighing and read the message.

Doctor, I am cold!

What is wrong with this idiot? I am in no mood for jokes.

What are you? A CHILD! I am not in the mood for your stupid jokes!

The reply came shortly after that and then another.

I AM SO COLD!

How are you feeling tonight, Doctor Holliday?

I have missed you. It was so dark down there and…

COLD.

Mister policeman thinks that too.

An attachment was sent with the message. Holliday froze. He was feeling uneasy. He opened the attachment and a shiver came over him. There was photo of Sullivan’s pale body impaled on a tree. And then another message came.

He is so cold and alone. Wouldn’t you like to join him?

There was another attachment sent this time. He opened the attachment. This time it was someone else. It was Jake. His body was on his bed, half dressed, pale and with his mouth opened. His tongue lips showed a nuance of white. He looked like he had died from hypothermia. His extremities showed frostbites. The are around his neck looked the most strangely. There was a weird shade of purple like in victims of strangulation and there were marks that resembled fingers around that area.

That was impossible. He has seen Jake around the campus two hours ago. He glanced again at the picture. That resembled a campus bed. The killer was on campus. He started to panic. His counseling office was just 10 minutes away. Holliday felt like his stomac was churning. Who would be so stupid to attack them? He was a dammed lieutenant in the Circle of Thornes, the biggest branch in Paragon City. He could crush any wannabe, unexperience mage. Those idiots, Sullivan and Jake, were just weak initiates. And like the WEAK initiates they were, they died like flies. He is a paragon, a moster of the occult with knowledge amased over thirty years within the Circle.

The phoned buzzed again interrupting his confidence boost.

Knock. Knock. Guess who is at the door?

The doorknobed turned and the door was opening with a slow screech allowing the light from the hallway to slowly penetrate into the room. Dr. Holliday froze in place. His built confidence just died. It was like he was seeing a ghost. But the ritual failed, he thought to himself. NO! They checked the vitals.

“What’s the matter, Doctore?” asked a calm voice.

The air in the air chilled. Then with a sudden move grom the right hand throw a cold mist in the direction of Dr.. He dodged that just in time. And jumped out the window in the courtyard of the University. There was no a single soul in sight. The night was chillier than usual. He turned towards the window and waited. Waited for the enemy to get out in his range of vision so he could attack with his spells. Nothing happened. He was alert and trying to make use of his senses the best he could during the night. Nothing was happening. A mist was forming in the courtyard. This wasn’t a spell of his enemy, but certainly had something to with his attacker. Not a natural phenomen for an autumn night. The mist was turning into a fog. His ears pitched something from his left in the fog. He dodged again just in time and notice several ice bolts in the place where he was standing earlier. His uttarance made a bright wave appeard pushing away the fog and objects within the area. But he felt like his legs are stuck in place and cold. His legs were covered in thick layer of ice as well as an area of about 6 or 7 seven meters around him. When had this happened? The cold fog has done this to him, but now the fog has nearly dispersed. The ice begin to spread from his feet upwards. He kept heating his body with fiery hands, but the ice was faster and fo soon found himself covered in ice up the neck. His body was shivering uncontrolably. The hypothermia must be settling in, he thought. His teeth were now chattering.

From the foggy trees emerged the figure of a woman. She was covered dirt and dry blood. She didn’t look so dead to him now. She looked him in the eyes and said:

“What’s the matter, Dr. Holliday? Are you having a panic attack or a nervous breakdown? Or perhaps are you cold?” she asked mockingly.

“Poor litlle Dr. Holliday! What were those pills you prescribed for anxienty? I keep forgetting their names. But they sure take you in happy place! Like where they sent me.”

“You were such a conversationalist  So chatty! It’s the thick layer of ice on your mouth such a trouble?” she taunted him while pacing around.

“I was thinking of coming to our last session. I have to admit it was quite difficult coming here from the that whole in the fround, where your little cultist threw me. But you know me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” she paused and sighed.

“Let me tell about MY LAST 48 HOURS!”she paused again, “After our short session on Friday, I woke tied up in your little rustic and not so tacky, full of occult sings. Man, the interior designer must have had a blast when you showed him the designs to your little horror shithole.”

She stopped pacing and stoped to gasp for air placing her on the chest.

“I am not used to talking so much or talking at all.”said in a quiet voice.

“I TRUSTED YOU! YOU WERE MY FUCKING COUNSELLOR!” she turned to him shouting.

“I WAS ALONE IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY AND CITY...AND...AND..YOU TOOK ADVANGE OF ME!”

“How stupid I must have looke to you! The perfect victim!”

“When I saw Jake there, I realized he was the one scounting for lonely, slightly antisocial girls with anxiety problems. You know, the kind that won’t be in the media for too long! So tell me this Doctor, how do you get over remebering people stabbing you repeteatly and waking up half dead near skeletons or rotting corpses?” she asked while inclining her head slightly. After pucking her lips and looking disriented up she continued:

“You know what? I am so tired of everything!” she pressed her hands on her face and move over her eyes and than her forehead.

“Anyways..thank you for opening my eyes! And thanks for the superpowers! I guess they where an accident on your part, but I sure do like them.”she paused again.

“And thank you for ruining my life! I know I can’t stay here anymore. I recognized one of the cloaked figures that night. He was Agent Night. Who would have guessed? Hero by day and murderous cultist by night. He is not the only friend you have in high places, right?” she asked like she was expecting an answer.

“Well, three out of ten is still good for now. Don’t worry! I’ll come for the others later. For now let’s just finish this!”

She approached him and placed her hand on his head. She froze him in a block of ice. Well, this was a bit anticlimatic, she thought. There is one place where she could go. One that would provide her with the tools and information to kill every single bastard that was present that night. And why not make a fortune as well.

“To Mercy Islands it is!”

 

[Dacy]

8 hours ago, BlackSiren said:

It was pitch dark in the room and Dr. Holliday started to feel uneasy. It was too long since he heard from his associates. Disposing of a body can be a dangerous and not an easy task for an amateur, but they have done so many times that for them it was literally a walk in the park. But that idiot Sullivan hasn’t checked in for 20 hours. The moron is fucking cop for god’s sake. What is taking so long? It is not the first time he has done it. Something must have happened or that idiot forgot his phone again. Anyways I have more pressing matters to attend to than getting frustrated. Like fixing THESE GODDAMMED RUNES. IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED...IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED. Dr Holliday could no longer control his rage and in his outburst thrashed his documents from his desk. Sighing, he put his head in the desk and grabbed his hair with hands. Maybe tomorrow he could get a through the university’s files and pick a new candidate. The candidate must have been soiled somehow, but he checked and made sure that was no the case. Who knows? Maybe it was not to be this time. The FUCKING 62^nd attempt.

If I may be so bold as to help with some editing/grammar/spelling? Wonderful first work, and it's so amazing that you write so well when English is not your first language! English is not an easy language. I thought the plot was great, I only made some minor changes in spelling, grammar, and occasionally, some word choices to clarify what I thought you meant, and modified the format in a couple of places, also for clarity. As far as plot, I am hoping you would later clarify what this mage was attempting, and why it took him so many tries! He doesn't sound as competent as he seems to think he is. Suggestions  and notes will be in green; changes in yellow. Sometimes I crossed out words, but sometimes I just left them out. Once I switched the order of two sentences, but there is no way I know of to make that notation from my keyboard. (Watch, now, probably Christopher Robin will know how...) Anyway, I did want to stress that  you did a great job, the only ONLY reason I put in editing was because you said you wanted it. 🙂

 

It was pitch dark in the room and Dr. Holliday started to feel uneasy. It had been too long since he had heard from his associates. Disposing of a body can be dangerous; not an easy task for an amateur, but they had done it so many times that, for them, it was literally a walk in the park. But that idiot Sullivan hadn't checked in for 20 hours. The moron is a fucking cop, for God’s sake. What is taking so long? It is not the first time he has done it. Something must have happened... or that idiot forgot his phone again! Holliday fumed. Anyway, I have more pressing matters to attend to than getting frustrated. Like fixing THESE GODDAMNED RUNES. IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED...IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED! Dr Holliday could no longer control his rage, and angrily swept the documents from his desk. Sighing, he put his head on the desk and grabbed his hair with hands. Maybe tomorrow he could go through the university’s files and pick a new candidate. The candidate must have been tainted somehow, but he had checked and made sure that was not the case. Who knows? Maybe it was not to be this time. The FUCKING 62^nd attempt. (Suggest adding more visible reaction, such as: Holliday's jaw clenched in anger.)

 

Notes: I decided which were Holliday's thoughts from context, and italicized them to show they are thoughts, not narrative. Then, because thoughts were italicized, I made the texts bold, to differentiate them, and added some identifiers to help the reader know if something was texted or thought.

8 hours ago, BlackSiren said:

The silence in the and room and his train of thoughts were interrupted a buzz. It was his phone. Then, the phone buzzed again. He finally puller his strength and lifted his head. He took the phone from his pocket and opened his messages. The light from his phone illuminated his face revealing a deep frowning lines on his aged face. There a single sentence that perturbed him again and rekindled his rage.

A buzz broke the silence of the room, interrupting his thoughts. It was his phone. Then, the phone buzzed again. He finally gathered his strength and lifted his head. He took the phone from his pocket and opened his messages. The light from the phone illuminated his face, revealing a deep frowning lines on his aged face. There was a single sentence on that phone which quickly rekindled his rage.

 

8 hours ago, BlackSiren said:

I am cold.

Idiot! What took you so long? Do you think that your job is the hard part? Try to translate the same DAMMED text again!

Holliday put the phone on his desk, but then it buzzed again. He checked his phone sighing and read the message.

Doctor, I am cold!

What is wrong with this idiot? I am in no mood for jokes.

What are you? A CHILD! I am not in the mood for your stupid jokes!

The reply came shortly after that and then another.

I AM SO COLD!

How are you feeling tonight, Doctor Holliday?

I have missed you. It was so dark down there and…

COLD.

Mister policeman thinks that too.

I am cold.

Holliday immediately texted back, furiously:  Idiot! What took you so long? Do you think that your job is the hard part? Try to translate the same DAMMED text again!

Holliday put the phone on his desk, but then it buzzed again. He checked his phone, sighing, and read the message.

Doctor, I am cold!

What is wrong with this idiot? I am in no mood for jokes, Holliday thought.

What are you? A CHILD? I am not in the mood for your stupid jokes!

The reply came shortly after that, and then another.

I AM SO COLD!

How are you feeling tonight, Doctor Holliday?

I have missed you. It was so dark down there and…

COLD.

Mister policeman thinks so too.

8 hours ago, BlackSiren said:

An attachment was sent with the message. Holliday froze. He was feeling uneasy. He opened the attachment and a shiver came over him. There was photo of Sullivan’s pale body impaled on a tree. And then another message came.

He is so cold and alone. Wouldn’t you like to join him?

There was another attachment sent this time. He opened the attachment. This time it was someone else. It was Jake. His body was on his bed, half dressed, pale and with his mouth opened. His tongue lips showed a nuance of white. He looked like he had died from hypothermia. His extremities showed frostbites. The are around his neck looked the most strangely. There was a weird shade of purple like in victims of strangulation and there were marks that resembled fingers around that area.

An attachment was sent with the message. Holliday froze. He was feeling uneasy. He opened the attachment and a shiver ran over him. There was photo of Sullivan’s pale body impaled on a tree. And then another message came.

He is so cold and alone. Wouldn’t you like to join him?

There was another attachment sent this time. He opened the attachment. This time it was someone else. It was Jake. His body was on his bed, half dressed, pale and with his mouth open. His tongue and  lips were white. His extremities showed frostbite. He looked like he had died from hypothermia. The area around his neck looked the strangest. It was purple, with marks that looked like fingers had left them. (My opinion: you do not need to say strangulation, the description is clear)

 

9 hours ago, BlackSiren said:

That was impossible. He has seen Jake around the campus two hours ago. He glanced again at the picture. That resembled a campus bed. The killer was on campus. He started to panic. His counseling office was just 10 minutes away. Holliday felt like his stomac was churning. Who would be so stupid to attack them? He was a dammed lieutenant in the Circle of Thornes, the biggest branch in Paragon City. He could crush any wannabe, unexperience mage. Those idiots, Sullivan and Jake, were just weak initiates. And like the WEAK initiates they were, they died like flies. He is a paragon, a moster of the occult with knowledge amased over thirty years within the Circle.

The phoned buzzed again interrupting his confidence boost.

Knock. Knock. Guess who is at the door?

The doorknobed turned and the door was opening with a slow screech allowing the light from the hallway to slowly penetrate into the room. Dr. Holliday froze in place. His built confidence just died. It was like he was seeing a ghost. But the ritual failed, he thought to himself. NO! They checked the vitals.

“What’s the matter, Doctore?” asked a calm voice.

That was impossible. He has seen Jake on campus two hours ago. He glanced again at the picture. That resembled a campus bed. The killer was on campus! He started to panic. His counseling office was just 10 minutes away. Holliday felt like his stomach was churning. Who would be so stupid to attack them? He was a damned lieutenant in the Circle of Thorns, the biggest branch in Paragon City. He could crush any wannabe, inexperienced mage. Those idiots, Sullivan and Jake, were just weak initiates. And like the WEAK initiates they were, they died like flies. He is a paragon, a monster of the occult with knowledge amassed over thirty years within the Circle.

The phoned buzzed again, interrupting his attempts at a confidence boost.

Knock. Knock. Guess who is at the door?

The doorknob turned, and the door opened with a slow screech, allowing the light from the hallway to slowly penetrate into the room. Dr. Holliday froze in place. His newly rebuilt confidence just died (suggest withered, instead of died, More descriptive). It was like he was seeing a ghost. But the ritual failed, he thought to himself. NO! They checked the vitals.

“What’s the matter, Doctor?” asked a calm voice.

9 hours ago, BlackSiren said:

The air in the air chilled. Then with a sudden move grom the right hand throw a cold mist in the direction of Dr.. He dodged that just in time. And jumped out the window in the courtyard of the University. There was no a single soul in sight. The night was chillier than usual. He turned towards the window and waited. Waited for the enemy to get out in his range of vision so he could attack with his spells. Nothing happened. He was alert and trying to make use of his senses the best he could during the night. Nothing was happening. A mist was forming in the courtyard. This wasn’t a spell of his enemy, but certainly had something to with his attacker. Not a natural phenomen for an autumn night. The mist was turning into a fog. His ears pitched something from his left in the fog. He dodged again just in time and notice several ice bolts in the place where he was standing earlier. His uttarance made a bright wave appeard pushing away the fog and objects within the area. But he felt like his legs are stuck in place and cold. His legs were covered in thick layer of ice as well as an area of about 6 or 7 seven meters around him. When had this happened? The cold fog has done this to him, but now the fog has nearly dispersed. The ice begin to spread from his feet upwards. He kept heating his body with fiery hands, but the ice was faster and fo soon found himself covered in ice up the neck. His body was shivering uncontrolably. The hypothermia must be settling in, he thought. His teeth were now chattering.

The air in the air chilled. Then the figure's right hand made a sudden move, and a frigid mist shot towards Holliday. (suggestion: a mist does not sound very threatening. Perhaps shards of ice? An icy blast?) He dodged that just in time, and then jumped out of the window into the courtyard of the University. There was not a single soul in sight. The night was chillier (suggest colder, as that is a stronger word than chillier) than usual. He turned towards the window and waited. Waited for the enemy to get out into his range of vision so he could attack with his spells. Nothing happened. Holliday strained all of his senses, searching the night for some sign of his enemy. Nothing was happening. The Circle mage saw a mist was forming in the courtyard. He could tell this wasn’t a spell of his enemy, but certainly had something to with his attacker, for it was not a natural phenomena for an autumn night. The mist was turning into a fog. His ears caught the sound of something to his left in the fog. He dodged again, just in time, as several ice bolts shot through the place where he had been standing earlier. He spoke a quick spell, and a bright wave appeared, pushing away the fog and objects within the area. But suddenly he realized his legs couldn't move, and they were so cold! He looked, and his legs were covered in thick layer of ice, as well as an area of about 6 or 7 seven meters around him. When had this happened? He realized the cold fog has done this to him, but now the fog had nearly dispersed. The ice began to spread from his feet upwards. He kept heating his body with fiery hands, but the ice was faster and he soon found himself covered in ice up the neck. His body was shivering uncontrollably. Hypothermia must be setting in, he thought. His teeth were now chattering.

 

 

And, that is all I have time for. Really should not have gone to bed before I even started this, sigh. For the rest, I'd suggest that you do not need to separate each of her lines of dialogue, since she is the only one speaking. Grammatically, they should not each be a separate line. If you want to break up the dialogue, to give some pause between lines of dialogue, you could write in some description of what she is doing, what he is doing, or something descriptive to add to the imagery. Most of the changes I made above were either spelling errors/omissions, or clarifying information. I rewrote three  sentences because I felt that this was what you were trying to say, so I reworded it just a bit. Very good work, overall! And now I bet Christopher Robin has something to add. 🙂

 

-Dacy

[BlackSiren]

10 hours ago, Dacy said:

If I may be so bold as to help with some editing/grammar/spelling? Wonderful first work, and it's so amazing that you write so well when English is not your first language! English is not an easy language. I thought the plot was great, I only made some minor changes in spelling, grammar, and occasionally, some word choices to clarify what I thought you meant, and modified the format in a couple of places, also for clarity. As far as plot, I am hoping you would later clarify what this mage was attempting, and why it took him so many tries! He doesn't sound as competent as he seems to think he is. Suggestions  and notes will be in green; changes in yellow. Sometimes I crossed out words, but sometimes I just left them out. Once I switched the order of two sentences, but there is no way I know of to make that notation from my keyboard. (Watch, now, probably Christopher Robin will know how...) Anyway, I did want to stress that  you did a great job, the only ONLY reason I put in editing was because you said you wanted it. 🙂

 

It was pitch dark in the room and Dr. Holliday started to feel uneasy. It had been too long since he had heard from his associates. Disposing of a body can be dangerous; not an easy task for an amateur, but they had done it so many times that, for them, it was literally a walk in the park. But that idiot Sullivan hadn't checked in for 20 hours. The moron is a fucking cop, for God’s sake. What is taking so long? It is not the first time he has done it. Something must have happened... or that idiot forgot his phone again! Holliday fumed. Anyway, I have more pressing matters to attend to than getting frustrated. Like fixing THESE GODDAMNED RUNES. IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED...IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED! Dr Holliday could no longer control his rage, and angrily swept the documents from his desk. Sighing, he put his head on the desk and grabbed his hair with hands. Maybe tomorrow he could go through the university’s files and pick a new candidate. The candidate must have been tainted somehow, but he had checked and made sure that was not the case. Who knows? Maybe it was not to be this time. The FUCKING 62^nd attempt. (Suggest adding more visible reaction, such as: Holliday's jaw clenched in anger.)

 

Notes: I decided which were Holliday's thoughts from context, and italicized them to show they are thoughts, not narrative. Then, because thoughts were italicized, I made the texts bold, to differentiate them, and added some identifiers to help the reader know if something was texted or thought.

A buzz broke the silence of the room, interrupting his thoughts. It was his phone. Then, the phone buzzed again. He finally gathered his strength and lifted his head. He took the phone from his pocket and opened his messages. The light from the phone illuminated his face, revealing a deep frowning lines on his aged face. There was a single sentence on that phone which quickly rekindled his rage.

 

I am cold.

Holliday immediately texted back, furiously:  Idiot! What took you so long? Do you think that your job is the hard part? Try to translate the same DAMMED text again!

Holliday put the phone on his desk, but then it buzzed again. He checked his phone, sighing, and read the message.

Doctor, I am cold!

What is wrong with this idiot? I am in no mood for jokes, Holliday thought.

What are you? A CHILD? I am not in the mood for your stupid jokes!

The reply came shortly after that, and then another.

I AM SO COLD!

How are you feeling tonight, Doctor Holliday?

I have missed you. It was so dark down there and…

COLD.

Mister policeman thinks so too.

An attachment was sent with the message. Holliday froze. He was feeling uneasy. He opened the attachment and a shiver ran over him. There was photo of Sullivan’s pale body impaled on a tree. And then another message came.

He is so cold and alone. Wouldn’t you like to join him?

There was another attachment sent this time. He opened the attachment. This time it was someone else. It was Jake. His body was on his bed, half dressed, pale and with his mouth open. His tongue and  lips were white. His extremities showed frostbite. He looked like he had died from hypothermia. The area around his neck looked the strangest. It was purple, with marks that looked like fingers had left them. (My opinion: you do not need to say strangulation, the description is clear)

 

That was impossible. He has seen Jake on campus two hours ago. He glanced again at the picture. That resembled a campus bed. The killer was on campus! He started to panic. His counseling office was just 10 minutes away. Holliday felt like his stomach was churning. Who would be so stupid to attack them? He was a damned lieutenant in the Circle of Thorns, the biggest branch in Paragon City. He could crush any wannabe, inexperienced mage. Those idiots, Sullivan and Jake, were just weak initiates. And like the WEAK initiates they were, they died like flies. He is a paragon, a monster of the occult with knowledge amassed over thirty years within the Circle.

The phoned buzzed again, interrupting his attempts at a confidence boost.

Knock. Knock. Guess who is at the door?

The doorknob turned, and the door opened with a slow screech, allowing the light from the hallway to slowly penetrate into the room. Dr. Holliday froze in place. His newly rebuilt confidence just died (suggest withered, instead of died, More descriptive). It was like he was seeing a ghost. But the ritual failed, he thought to himself. NO! They checked the vitals.

“What’s the matter, Doctor?” asked a calm voice.

The air in the air chilled. Then the figure's right hand made a sudden move, and a frigid mist shot towards Holliday. (suggestion: a mist does not sound very threatening. Perhaps shards of ice? An icy blast?) He dodged that just in time, and then jumped out of the window into the courtyard of the University. There was not a single soul in sight. The night was chillier (suggest colder, as that is a stronger word than chillier) than usual. He turned towards the window and waited. Waited for the enemy to get out into his range of vision so he could attack with his spells. Nothing happened. Holliday strained all of his senses, searching the night for some sign of his enemy. Nothing was happening. The Circle mage saw a mist was forming in the courtyard. He could tell this wasn’t a spell of his enemy, but certainly had something to with his attacker, for it was not a natural phenomena for an autumn night. The mist was turning into a fog. His ears caught the sound of something to his left in the fog. He dodged again, just in time, as several ice bolts shot through the place where he had been standing earlier. He spoke a quick spell, and a bright wave appeared, pushing away the fog and objects within the area. But suddenly he realized his legs couldn't move, and they were so cold! He looked, and his legs were covered in thick layer of ice, as well as an area of about 6 or 7 seven meters around him. When had this happened? He realized the cold fog has done this to him, but now the fog had nearly dispersed. The ice began to spread from his feet upwards. He kept heating his body with fiery hands, but the ice was faster and he soon found himself covered in ice up the neck. His body was shivering uncontrollably. Hypothermia must be setting in, he thought. His teeth were now chattering.

 

 

And, that is all I have time for. Really should not have gone to bed before I even started this, sigh. For the rest, I'd suggest that you do not need to separate each of her lines of dialogue, since she is the only one speaking. Grammatically, they should not each be a separate line. If you want to break up the dialogue, to give some pause between lines of dialogue, you could write in some description of what she is doing, what he is doing, or something descriptive to add to the imagery. Most of the changes I made above were either spelling errors/omissions, or clarifying information. I rewrote three  sentences because I felt that this was what you were trying to say, so I reworded it just a bit. Very good work, overall! And now I bet Christopher Robin has something to add. 🙂

 

-Dacy

You have been of huge help. I really appreciate this. I am looking to improve. Thank you!

[Dacy]

*Does the Happy Dance* Yay! I was hoping that's how you would feel! The last thing I wanted to do is discourage a writer in any way, especially a new one!  So far, I like the story very much.

 

Would you like me to continue the edits, or would you like to try your hand at the rest, and see how it goes? Just a couple of notes: 1) if you turn on a spell check of some sort, it should help, most of the small errors I caught were just letter omissions, and a spell check should catch those, for the most part. 2) You might want to look at a book which is written in English, or look online for formatting dialogue. 3) In the sentence: “After our short session on Friday, I woke tied up in your little rustic and not so tacky, full of occult sings.", it is not clear where she awoke. Was it in a shed? A cave? A shack? A room? A hole in the ground?

 

I will be happy to edit more, if you like, either before or after you take a stab at it again. 🙂

 

-Dacy