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The Assassin (Ch1-4)
Former Member
Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
This is a WIP story, so it has a few problems, but I was just looking for some constructive critcism or comments.
Also, I feel the chapters are considerably too short. Any opinions?
1
The man perched himself on a small patch of tiles at the top of the building. He had been following his target for 2 entire months, and for what; a 10 second job for some easy money? "No", he thought to himself. He brushed a hand through his infinitely black hair, feeling the sweat from the sheer anticipation of what he was about to do.
At the same time, the target sat inside a posh restaurant, enjoying a portion of cheesecake. His name was Teuril Mensuta, and he was a well respected businessman. Unfortunately, Teuril tended to do as he willed, regardless of who he offended. Little did he know that this meal would be his last, and as he exited the restaurant, the assassins plan commenced.
The door to the restaurant swung open and the man who had been so calm instantly reacted. Standing, he proceeded to jump from the top of the building, snatching a small, slender H&K USP from his trouser pocket and shooting once. The bullet hit with perfect accuracy to the forehead.
Of the wrong man.
The assassin landed softly on the floor, distributing his weight.
"Denzel Avens. I should have know it." Teuril said, his voice tainted with hatred.
"What is your problem with me?" He asked, never breaking eye contact. Denzel found it hard to match this, but still spoke softly and calmly.
"I know what your doing Mensuta. I know all about your plans to bring back the Celands." Teuril glared at him.
"What's your point?" He whispered after what felt like an eternity to Denzel.
"The point is," Denzel replied, raising his pistol, "That you aren't going to see tomorrow."
Another bullet was fired, and the now silent and still corpse of Teuril Mensuta dropped to the floor.
2
Denzel was a man of skill, an expert in his field. It was no wonder then, that instead of sleeping that night, he stayed up wondering how he managed to miss Teuril from such close quarters. "It was just a bad shot," he reassured himself over and over until the sun finally began to splinter across the earth, and Denzel Avens was yet again made to get up and see his boss.
Skipping breakfast, he proceeded to get dressed hurriedly, throwing on a brand new jacket and grabbing the nearest watch to him. He headed down to his sleek silver Audi R8, making sure he wasn't being watched or followed; In his line of work, it was particularly easy to make enemies, so Denzel was always cautious of his surroundings.
After 20 minutes of driving through some of the most covert routes Denzel has ever seen, he reached his bosses headquarters, and as he rolled up quietly to the door, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of someone run away into the nearby woods. Someone or something. Something familiar. Snapping out of his daze, he swiftly moved to the door and knocked three times, slowly and exactly, always striking the exact same position. The door swung open and a tall, bold, executive looking man stepped out and grabbed Denzel's hand, pulling him into the rather violent handshake Denzel had grown accustomed to every time he met with this man. The man of course, was his boss, A Mr O'Neil. Originally from Ireland, he moved to London after the murder of his wife and children and began a business in assassination. Denzel had always been fond of Mr O'Neil. Everyone always expected him to be some crazy bloodthirsty man, but really he was just a human being with a terrible, corrupted past.
Finally releasing his grip, he looked at Denzel and said peacefully
"Lets go for a walk. We need to talk." He began to pace away slowly, staying just close enough to Denzel so they could talk face to face.
"How did it go?" Asked O'Neil slowly and quietly, looking rather far off.
"Fine, Mensuta is gone, nobody is left to bring back the Celands." Replied Denzel, a light grin forming on his face, only to be shattered by O'Neil's next words.
"They are already back."
For the next 7 minutes or so, Denzel found it almost impossible to form a complete sentence. "Bu..Wha..Whe.." he stuttered repetitively, eventually stopped by O'Neil, who slowly raised a finger to Denzel's lips in a quietening manner.
"Yes, they are back. Mensuta, it would seem, was but a distraction to lure us away from the real culprit." Denzel, who was finding this information hard to digest, decided to sit down on a nearby stump due to the fact he felt as if he was about to collapse.
"Listen, I'm going to leave you to let it sink in. I'll send an assistant along to look after you." Said O'Neil, patting Denzel on the shoulder and walking away. Approximately 1 minute later, a tall, cheery looking girl strode across the compound towards Denzel. He stood to greet her, when suddenly his eyes blanked and Denzel's legs gave way.
He awoke with a start, flinging his upper body forwards violently.
"Calm down, you have suffered some form of mental breakdown and shaking around like a mad man isn't going to help." Said a soft, girlish voice. Denzel swung around to see the assistant from before, who passed him a glass of freezing cold water.
"Thanks" He coughed out, downing the glass of water quickly.
"Mr Avens?" Said the assistant, looking intent but nervous.
"Yes?" Replied Denzel, wiping a small bit of blood from his forehead
"I..I was wondering if you could tell me about the Celands." She questioned, sounding almost ashamed to ask. Denzel cracked his neck violently and rested his head on his knuckles.
"Where to begin" he said with a resentful twinge to his voice.
3
"The Celands" He said, almost disgusted to utter the word "Are a group of incredibly powerful demons, who together possess the power and ability to destroy anything that stands in their path. They feel no guilt and are void of all morality, which makes them perfect for their jobs." A confused look spread over the assistants face, which had since recovered from her abash state.
"Their jobs?" She asked, enthralled. Denzel took a deep breath in.
"The Celands were created for one single cause- to find the Core Gem. Are you aware of what the Core Gem is?" He asked patiently. The assistant replied confidently and quickly.
"Yes, the Core Gem is a shard broken from the core of a now destroyed-or rather imploded-planet. No one has seen it since it landed in one of Area 51's hangars and was took by some kind of entity." She finished, looking slightly proud of herself. Denzel was impressed.
"Well done, I hadn't expected you to know that much about it. Is it part of your case study?" He questioned, and she nodded slowly.
"Thank you Mr. Avens, this has really helped" She said, standing up to leave and smiling softly. She reached out and shook his hand, before dashing off inside, pen and clipboard flailing madly.
Denzel was just beginning to regain the feeling in his legs, when a freezing cold chill passed over him. He wasn't alone. A wild scream was emitted from behind, and Denzel was blasted powerfully into a nearby forest. He quickly stood, barely avoiding a stream of black energy by sheer chance. He could not see a thing, and when he finally could, he regretted it. Before him stood something that looked like a cross between a werewolf and a harpy. Loading his USP, Denzel began to move backwards, never taking his eyes from the beast. Denzel locked sights with it, and roaring demonically, it pounced.
4
Denzel assessed the situation. The creature, whatever the hell it was meant to be, was moving towards him at about 3 meters per second. He checked the distance between them; about 87 meters, give or take 10 centimetres. 29 seconds was all that separated him and something that looked as if it had been dragged directly from hell. These 29 seconds were the most hectic 29 seconds of his life.
Within an instant, Denzel had reached down to his waist and retrieved a blade, no longer than his forearm, with his left hand. He held it backwards with the tip aimed at the floor and the hilt protruding from between his thumb and index finger.
23 seconds.
Tightening his grip on the blade’s hilt, he cocked the USP with his remaining fingers, and deepened his stance. The edge of the blade shimmered in the pulsating sunlight, accentuating the lethal spine that ran the length of the weapon.
18 seconds.
The beast snarled, baring it’s mouth for the first time. Denzel counted three rows of 32 teeth, all diamond edged with a slight elevation. Perfect for tearing flesh.
12 seconds.
The rhythmical pounding of paw on earth echoed in Denzel’s head. The beast was now running on all fours, it’s sinewy wings slashing through the air effortlessly. Denzel raised his pistol and took aim at the area between the two heavily bloodshot eyes which were hastily approaching him.
4 seconds.
It propelled itself forwards from it’s hind legs at full force, ready to bite. Denzel hammered the trigger three times, all hitting the same spot.
With no effect.
Also, I feel the chapters are considerably too short. Any opinions?
1
The man perched himself on a small patch of tiles at the top of the building. He had been following his target for 2 entire months, and for what; a 10 second job for some easy money? "No", he thought to himself. He brushed a hand through his infinitely black hair, feeling the sweat from the sheer anticipation of what he was about to do.
At the same time, the target sat inside a posh restaurant, enjoying a portion of cheesecake. His name was Teuril Mensuta, and he was a well respected businessman. Unfortunately, Teuril tended to do as he willed, regardless of who he offended. Little did he know that this meal would be his last, and as he exited the restaurant, the assassins plan commenced.
The door to the restaurant swung open and the man who had been so calm instantly reacted. Standing, he proceeded to jump from the top of the building, snatching a small, slender H&K USP from his trouser pocket and shooting once. The bullet hit with perfect accuracy to the forehead.
Of the wrong man.
The assassin landed softly on the floor, distributing his weight.
"Denzel Avens. I should have know it." Teuril said, his voice tainted with hatred.
"What is your problem with me?" He asked, never breaking eye contact. Denzel found it hard to match this, but still spoke softly and calmly.
"I know what your doing Mensuta. I know all about your plans to bring back the Celands." Teuril glared at him.
"What's your point?" He whispered after what felt like an eternity to Denzel.
"The point is," Denzel replied, raising his pistol, "That you aren't going to see tomorrow."
Another bullet was fired, and the now silent and still corpse of Teuril Mensuta dropped to the floor.
2
Denzel was a man of skill, an expert in his field. It was no wonder then, that instead of sleeping that night, he stayed up wondering how he managed to miss Teuril from such close quarters. "It was just a bad shot," he reassured himself over and over until the sun finally began to splinter across the earth, and Denzel Avens was yet again made to get up and see his boss.
Skipping breakfast, he proceeded to get dressed hurriedly, throwing on a brand new jacket and grabbing the nearest watch to him. He headed down to his sleek silver Audi R8, making sure he wasn't being watched or followed; In his line of work, it was particularly easy to make enemies, so Denzel was always cautious of his surroundings.
After 20 minutes of driving through some of the most covert routes Denzel has ever seen, he reached his bosses headquarters, and as he rolled up quietly to the door, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of someone run away into the nearby woods. Someone or something. Something familiar. Snapping out of his daze, he swiftly moved to the door and knocked three times, slowly and exactly, always striking the exact same position. The door swung open and a tall, bold, executive looking man stepped out and grabbed Denzel's hand, pulling him into the rather violent handshake Denzel had grown accustomed to every time he met with this man. The man of course, was his boss, A Mr O'Neil. Originally from Ireland, he moved to London after the murder of his wife and children and began a business in assassination. Denzel had always been fond of Mr O'Neil. Everyone always expected him to be some crazy bloodthirsty man, but really he was just a human being with a terrible, corrupted past.
Finally releasing his grip, he looked at Denzel and said peacefully
"Lets go for a walk. We need to talk." He began to pace away slowly, staying just close enough to Denzel so they could talk face to face.
"How did it go?" Asked O'Neil slowly and quietly, looking rather far off.
"Fine, Mensuta is gone, nobody is left to bring back the Celands." Replied Denzel, a light grin forming on his face, only to be shattered by O'Neil's next words.
"They are already back."
For the next 7 minutes or so, Denzel found it almost impossible to form a complete sentence. "Bu..Wha..Whe.." he stuttered repetitively, eventually stopped by O'Neil, who slowly raised a finger to Denzel's lips in a quietening manner.
"Yes, they are back. Mensuta, it would seem, was but a distraction to lure us away from the real culprit." Denzel, who was finding this information hard to digest, decided to sit down on a nearby stump due to the fact he felt as if he was about to collapse.
"Listen, I'm going to leave you to let it sink in. I'll send an assistant along to look after you." Said O'Neil, patting Denzel on the shoulder and walking away. Approximately 1 minute later, a tall, cheery looking girl strode across the compound towards Denzel. He stood to greet her, when suddenly his eyes blanked and Denzel's legs gave way.
He awoke with a start, flinging his upper body forwards violently.
"Calm down, you have suffered some form of mental breakdown and shaking around like a mad man isn't going to help." Said a soft, girlish voice. Denzel swung around to see the assistant from before, who passed him a glass of freezing cold water.
"Thanks" He coughed out, downing the glass of water quickly.
"Mr Avens?" Said the assistant, looking intent but nervous.
"Yes?" Replied Denzel, wiping a small bit of blood from his forehead
"I..I was wondering if you could tell me about the Celands." She questioned, sounding almost ashamed to ask. Denzel cracked his neck violently and rested his head on his knuckles.
"Where to begin" he said with a resentful twinge to his voice.
3
"The Celands" He said, almost disgusted to utter the word "Are a group of incredibly powerful demons, who together possess the power and ability to destroy anything that stands in their path. They feel no guilt and are void of all morality, which makes them perfect for their jobs." A confused look spread over the assistants face, which had since recovered from her abash state.
"Their jobs?" She asked, enthralled. Denzel took a deep breath in.
"The Celands were created for one single cause- to find the Core Gem. Are you aware of what the Core Gem is?" He asked patiently. The assistant replied confidently and quickly.
"Yes, the Core Gem is a shard broken from the core of a now destroyed-or rather imploded-planet. No one has seen it since it landed in one of Area 51's hangars and was took by some kind of entity." She finished, looking slightly proud of herself. Denzel was impressed.
"Well done, I hadn't expected you to know that much about it. Is it part of your case study?" He questioned, and she nodded slowly.
"Thank you Mr. Avens, this has really helped" She said, standing up to leave and smiling softly. She reached out and shook his hand, before dashing off inside, pen and clipboard flailing madly.
Denzel was just beginning to regain the feeling in his legs, when a freezing cold chill passed over him. He wasn't alone. A wild scream was emitted from behind, and Denzel was blasted powerfully into a nearby forest. He quickly stood, barely avoiding a stream of black energy by sheer chance. He could not see a thing, and when he finally could, he regretted it. Before him stood something that looked like a cross between a werewolf and a harpy. Loading his USP, Denzel began to move backwards, never taking his eyes from the beast. Denzel locked sights with it, and roaring demonically, it pounced.
4
Denzel assessed the situation. The creature, whatever the hell it was meant to be, was moving towards him at about 3 meters per second. He checked the distance between them; about 87 meters, give or take 10 centimetres. 29 seconds was all that separated him and something that looked as if it had been dragged directly from hell. These 29 seconds were the most hectic 29 seconds of his life.
Within an instant, Denzel had reached down to his waist and retrieved a blade, no longer than his forearm, with his left hand. He held it backwards with the tip aimed at the floor and the hilt protruding from between his thumb and index finger.
23 seconds.
Tightening his grip on the blade’s hilt, he cocked the USP with his remaining fingers, and deepened his stance. The edge of the blade shimmered in the pulsating sunlight, accentuating the lethal spine that ran the length of the weapon.
18 seconds.
The beast snarled, baring it’s mouth for the first time. Denzel counted three rows of 32 teeth, all diamond edged with a slight elevation. Perfect for tearing flesh.
12 seconds.
The rhythmical pounding of paw on earth echoed in Denzel’s head. The beast was now running on all fours, it’s sinewy wings slashing through the air effortlessly. Denzel raised his pistol and took aim at the area between the two heavily bloodshot eyes which were hastily approaching him.
4 seconds.
It propelled itself forwards from it’s hind legs at full force, ready to bite. Denzel hammered the trigger three times, all hitting the same spot.
With no effect.
0
Comments
I can really help too much because I can't write or really enjoy the whole bad ass killer thing (not saying that's bad, a lot of people love the bad ass killer thing) but I'd avoid phrases like "infinitely black hair". It jumped out to me as being over...earnest I guess? I share the Steven King hatred of adverbs though.
Originally from the opening it seemed to be that sort of book, a spy thriller etc.. obviously that changes.. I don't mind it, one thing I would say, and it just these little continuity things that bug me, if he is a skilled assaisin, why is his USP in his pocket, no self respecting Assassin, operative or soldier etc would put it in a pocket, to hard to get to or too small/ balky,
I'd suggest either the front of the trousers in a small internal holster or the small of the back etc.
I know it is pety before anyone says something but it is the small things like this that can spoil books, for me anyway.
Is it going to be a fable?
Xx
Hmm, I never though of that, i'll be sure to fix it.
Thanks
I wasn't trying to write it as a fable, no.
The first one for example, the guy kills a nobody and stops to have a chit chat before killing the one he was there for? It must also be a bitch to jump from the top of a building down to the ground so for me it didn't make sense to read that he landed softly. Was it a dollhouse?
There's other stuff like that which I don't find credible. So for me this would not keep my attention. Even when writing fantasy-ish stories there are certains rules of nature that it's good to keep in mind. You don't have to get technical but for a normal person it's bloody risky to jump down from a roof so you have to make the scenario credible.
It's also hard to understand why a big bad professional assassin would randomly pass out and be shaking like crazy. If he's got some weaknesses that's excellent but you're going to have to flesh that out to an understandable level. 5 seconds later he's again WHAM BAM WHAM!!!! and it's a rather huge transition to follow for me as a reader.
Finally and that's just me but I always find it awkward to see real life brands in stories. H&K USP doesn't tell me anything whatsoever. Same with Audi R8, I know the brand but that exact model? Nah. It may look cool to you as the writer and you can save yourself a lot of words describing what you're going for but for a reader it's hit or miss if they'll follow your line of thought.
This has potential if you work on fleshing the storyline out a little. How well do you know your character? His personality, flaws and so on? To be able to fully utilize characters you need get to know them first and foremost. I always know I'm on the right track when my characters start making their own decisions. It's like seeing your own child taking its first step. :thumb:
Oh and if I was the boss of a badass assassin I'd have kicked him in the nuts rather than listen to him stutter for 7 whole minutes. Or simply bitchslapped him and told him to shut the fuck up.