Francesca is an Assassin, born and sworn to the Creed. She is skilled, yes, one of the most promising of the younger Assassins, yet she has been described by colleagues as the push of the tides against an infallible sea wall, fury and power ebbing in cold, calculated force against such a calm, unshakable exterior.
Francesca has been given a very important task, the assassination of an important diplomat visiting Venice. Just as she is within reach of her target, a mysterious shimmer catches her eye, and suddenly her targets head is sliced in half.
She feels enraged and cheated, her kill stolen from her.
A young buck, No Rest, making his brood under the canals, has taken his first high priority trophy in this culture, and is eager to take another. When he does approach his next prey, a figure in white drops from the roof, killing the targets two guards and then instantly killing the man. She looks around, and her eyes meet his, with a fiery glare, satisfied and yet challenging.
Now, they both have their new quarry... they have damaged each others pride, their honour, and it can only be restored by taking their new rivals life, and a trophy. Francesca will partake of the urban dance, becoming the shadow among shadows, hoping to lose her stalkers eyes, so she might ambush him on the slate roof tops, while No Rest will wait until she is in the alleyways, or alone on the canal bridge at night, ready to take her.
Sounds interesting.
Quote from: Sabby on Nov 11, 2010, 01:53:22 PM
Francesca is an Assassin, born and sworn to the Creed. She is skilled, yes, one of the most promising of the younger Assassins, yet she has been described by colleagues as the push of the tides against an infallible sea wall, fury and power ebbing in cold, calculated force against such a calm, unshakable exterior.
Francesca has been given a very important task, the assassination of an important diplomat visiting Venice. Just as she is within reach of her target, a mysterious shimmer catches her eye, and suddenly her targets head is sliced in half.
She feels enraged and cheated, her kill stolen from her.
A young buck, No Rest, making his brood under the canals, has taken his first high priority trophy in this culture, and is eager to take another. When he does approach his next prey, a figure in white drops from the roof, killing the targets two guards and then instantly killing the man. She looks around, and her eyes meet his, with a fiery glare, satisfied and yet challenging.
Now, they both have their new quarry... they have damaged each others pride, their honour, and it can only be restored by taking their new rivals life, and a trophy. Francesca will partake of the urban dance, becoming the shadow among shadows, hoping to lose her stalkers eyes, so she might ambush him on the slate roof tops, while No Rest will wait until she is in the alleyways, or alone on the canal bridge at night, ready to take her.
You have my attention.
It's just an idea for now, but I'll try and have a chapter up soon :)
Chapter 1
She was so close she could taste the scent of his musk on her tongue.
While the sky was dark with clouds, the slate rooftops and green canals were brought to life with vivid colour, the crackles and pops of fireworks regularly sending the courtyard into stark view. The courtyard was as if a mirror of the sky, a plain and featureless floor given energy by the dozens that twirled and laughed, wearing all the colours one could think. Merriment and music, the smell of wine and gunpowder, the ever present stale filth of the canals for once blissfully covered, while the heat and the closeness had her uniform clinging to her skin.
Her senses were being assaulted in every way, and it only heightened her concentration... her excitement. She kept it hidden though, keeping her cool. The dancers parted for a second, and her target was visible to her, and his eyes trailed over her for a second before the crowds surged once more and stole him from view. Her stomach clenched at the eyes contact, but he didn't seem to suspect. Her Creed robes had been forgotten, instead wearing a beautiful but typical dress of light green, a mask held to her face, white and decorated with glittering little bits of tinsel, her mane of ginger hair for once let down. A paper fan was in her other hand, a new fashion that was all the rage in Venice, and yet so practical in this heat.
While her costume may have seemed rather eye catching, she was as if a fish among a school, seen, yet never noticed.
The music picked up, the peoples feet changed pace to match, and with it, her heart began to slam. Every twirling trade of partners brought her a few more steos towards him, until they were seperated by a space of barely both of her arms. She tried to look disinterested, but her light green eyes flashed, sweat forming upon her brow. And then, he passed his current woman on, and she was twirled into his arms. This, she had expected, yet she could not have helped a second of panic deep inside her stomach, her bowels clenching for nary a heart beat, before she began the steps.
Her target, Benedict Friviosa, was drunk and unshaved, though she got the impression he might have been quite the gentlemen. Manners or not, his extortion ring had poked it's head out, and all she needed to do was cut it, then make sure the body died. If it grew another head, she'd be there, waiting for it... As he tipped her back, she fanned herself, giving him a wink, and tested the Hidden Blade in her sleeve as she was pulled up into a twirl, making sure it worked, getting a feel for it, as she always did before the kill. Her fan would help add another layer of concealment, and all she needed to do was twirl to the next partner, and he would stumble to his neck woman with his life bleeding out over his top, neck severed.
She was tipped back again, and something caught her eye... a shape, standing stock still on the roof tops, like a shimmer of air. The fireworks that erupted in the sky gave the area an odd twinkle, like a fire viewed through crafted glass. But before she could concentrate, it had slipped away. She put it down to her imagination, but she felt watched... and she had always trusted her instincts. For the briefest second, her mission slipped from her mind.
The music picked up, their feet pounding the floor, the speed of their twirls increasing, her pulse racing to match, and with each step, she flicked the blade out under the fan, the swish and clack matching the hammering of the dancers. She counted down, knowing exactly when she would be passed on, twenty seconds she countered... he laughed and threw his head back, hand groping down her dress, almost to the knife belt at her hip. 10 seconds, she counted, her eyes locked on his throat.
And then, something happened.
There was a shimmer of air, just in the corner of her vision. Her body naturally tensed at the sensation of movement, and suddenly, Benedicts eyes flew open. His neck exploded outward, as if razor sharp wire had been yanked tight, severing the jugular and splattering her in his blood. The head was yanked violently upwards, and to her horror, she saw the head seem to rise up out of his body like a snake, his spine crawling out. The limb body collapsed to the floor at her feet, and the shimmer behind it regarded her... at least, she thought it did. An invisible hand caressed over the still slick spine, and a series of clicks sounded, like the hollow wooden shakers the jugglers had used.
It took a second for the screams to register, but she was paralyzed with a new sensation she had never felt before. She had touched on it's edges, but this was the first time she had felt real, true fear, locking her legs in place, keeping her hands from doing as her mind instructed. It was only when she was shoved by a fleeing woman that she was brought out of it, and the shimmer was gone.
With the crowds dispersed and the guards converged on the scene, she found her place of solace on the roof tops, where she usually went after a job was finished. But this time, she was here for another reason... for comfort, reassurance, things she hadn't quite understood. She was shaking all over, her eyes still wide and disbelieving. She looked at her hands, covered in blood, and then down to her dress. It was not like this was the first time she had ever seen blood, but never had she seen violence quite like that, and the feeling of the unseen aggressor shook her to her core.
What had she just witnessed?
Under the streets, in the reeking humid space of the canals, a dark figure worked. Strange devices rested on hand carved shelves, indentations in the walls. The broad shoulders blocked out a large segment of green tinged stone, long hair flicking now and then as he reaching out for certain items. There was a hiss, and smoke, and then Benedicts clean, bleached skull and spine were placed upon the one blank wall. His first kill... and he intended to make sure it was only the first of many.
Even from the rooftops, where Francesca made her brood, the victorious, snarling wail of the creature was heard.
Not bad. I enjoyed reading that. :D
Quite interesting, I like it :) Can I ask if you had some ideas from Assassin's creed, it hs a bit similar tone and style at some places for me, and you catch this in an excellent way.
Can I ask if it will be explained why pred is killing a diplomat? Seemingly harmless prey, but I guess it will be turned out he isn't... weren't :D
Will there be a future timeline, you know, by the company that wants its agents to unlock their genetically inherited memories?
Yeyinde, yes, this is part of the Assassin's Creed games. It takes place in AC2 era Venice. And Benedict is the leader of a violent crime ring. No Rest, the Predator, wanted his first trophy to be someone of importance, so surveyed the prey of Venice, and naturally followed the chain of command up to him.
Predxeno, I never thought of that one... that's definitely something I could work on :) Perhaps the Templar's aren't as big as they'd like Desmond to think, a small but advanced group that couldn't hope to contend with Weyland-Yutani. WY uses an Animus to search history for Predator or Alien incidents and technology... yes, I've got some thinking to do.
Chapter 2
Lidia jerked as if waking from a nightmare, the kind that didn't throw you awake, but caused a moment of confusion, as the dream world and the real one slowly separated. Slowly, she sat up, swinging her legs over to perch on the edge of the Animus.
She was a spitting image of her ancestor, a thin and athletic woman, tall and with eyes the shade of faded dollar bills. Hair like fire threaded into wool hung down between her shoulder blades, slightly wavy. She shrugged her white hoody close, hugging her shoulders, shivering from more then just the air conditioning. The memory of Francesca's encounter was fresh in her mind, and she swore she could feel the warmth of Benedicts blood on her chest.
The Animus machine didn't match the room she was in. While it was sleek and white, the building was dull, dark and grey, square and almost blocky, like it came from a box and unfolded, constructed with ease. This was not just an impression. The words "Weyland-Yutani" were painted white across the grey metal wall, next to a clear observation window.
"Didja get all of that? Because I'm not f**king going back in if I don't have to..." Her course voice went quiet with the last few words and she suppressed a shudder, pushing up onto her feet and rubbing her arms. "Where's my smokes? I need a f**king smoke"
She was shaken, restless, the adrenaline and fear of Francesca bleeding over, lingering, causing her to pace and fidget. It usually took a moment or two for her to separate, but this time was worse. She could feel that monsters eyes on her, and it refused to leave for a few tense moments, in which she barked for her cigarette's again.
One of the white robed scientists came in with a metal tray, which contained a bowl of hot stew and bottled water, but she snatched up the cigarette's and Zippo from the tray, almost tearing the top off and pulling out one crumpled stick, cupping the flame as she lit it.
"Don't worry Sargent Dallas, we got everything. You should be fine to rest today" She relaxed, drawing on the cigarette and pushing back up to sit on the Animus, taking the tray and shooting the scientist an apologetic look, but there was a hint of a glare there, and he took the hint and left quickly.
"How many times we gotta do this before you start calling me Lidia?" She breathed, draining the bowel quickly, not caring for table manners. She was ravenous after her Animus sessions usually, and though her dehydration paled in comparison to her hunger, she drained the bottle just as quickly.
"So when are you guna tell me what the f**k I just saw in there? Is this what you dragged me from my Platoon for? That thing?"
The three scientists at the other end of the glass exchanged glances. "Ms Dallas, perhaps you should head to the rec room-" She slammed her tray on the Animus next to her hip, the bowl and bottle clattering to the ground loudly, silencing them.
"No, f**k you! I don't wanna watch any of your calming movies and play tennis, I want some f**king answers! What the f**k was that thing?!" She seethed, and after a few moments of stunned silence, she backed down, feeling quite embarrassed.
"S-sorry... I'm a little shaky at the moment..." She rubbed her arms, the shudder returning. "We understand Ms Dallas, the effects of the Animus sessions can take some getting used to. You've seen the reports on the earlier sessions, so we want to take it slow, make sure you don't get any of those negative effects"
"It's Lidia..." She breathed, not quite a growl, but with the same irritated edge to it. "I-I need to lay down... are we done? Can I go?" She fumbled about for a new cigarette and tried to cup the flame, even though there was no breeze in this still room. It was a nervous tick of hers.
"Are we done? Can I go?" The voice echoed, distorted, repeating several times, changing it's pitch and tone. The viewing modes changed, and a targeting reticle rushed through the multitude of buildings on the secluded colony, singling out the Animus Chamber. A red figure sat on the cool blue and green of the Animus, a small prick of red in it's heart, fading as the machine powered down.
"Are we d-d-done yet... Can I go?. It's Lidia. Start calling me Lidia" The Predator perched on the top of the guard tower, arm resting on his thick knee, growling, marking the woman in his visor, and the three in the observation room. He reached up to touch under his eye, where two long self inflicted marks crossed down his temple to his chin. It was the mark of his mission, his promise...
Growling, he stood and activated his cloak, clawed fingers tapping at the device on his arm, and then all that was left of him was the lingering clicking. Lidia shuddered once more, but this time, it had nothing to do with the Animus.
So Weyland Yutani bought up the Animus project from Abstergo? Holy shit... I must keep myself updated on this. Im writing a crossover between Altair and a predator hunting for Templars some time after the first game's events, but I think you've outdone me.
Yeah, kind of drawing a 'Just Because' on that one ^^' Abstergo and Weyland-Utani have a good chunk of time between them, and that period is pretty vague, so it's easy enough to pass off. I'm torn whether or not I should include Xenomorph's though :/
I love this thread!!! Shabby, keep up the good work, please ;D
Thank you everyone ^^ I'm glad your enjoying it so far. Will try not to disappoint.
Darn this is so cool, I'v been waiting for a story featuring Predators and the Assassins, I think you nailed it perfectly :)
Awesome summary and first chapter, nice twist at the end too lol you caught my interest, I'm gonna keep myself updated please keep up the good work ;D
Quote from: Sabby on Nov 13, 2010, 06:02:52 AM
Chapter 2
Lidia jerked as if waking from a nightmare, the kind that didn't throw you awake, but caused a moment of confusion, as the dream world and the real one slowly separated. Slowly, she sat up, swinging her legs over to perch on the edge of the Animus.
She was a spitting image of her ancestor, a thin and athletic woman, tall and with eyes the shade of faded dollar bills. Hair like fire threaded into wool hung down between her shoulder blades, slightly wavy. She shrugged her white hoody close, hugging her shoulders, shivering from more then just the air conditioning. The memory of Francesca's encounter was fresh in her mind, and she swore she could feel the warmth of Benedicts blood on her chest.
The Animus machine didn't match the room she was in. While it was sleek and white, the building was dull, dark and grey, square and almost blocky, like it came from a box and unfolded, constructed with ease. This was not just an impression. The words "Weyland-Yutani" were painted white across the grey metal wall, next to a clear observation window.
"Didja get all of that? Because I'm not f**king going back in if I don't have to..." Her course voice went quiet with the last few words and she suppressed a shudder, pushing up onto her feet and rubbing her arms. "Where's my smokes? I need a f**king smoke"
She was shaken, restless, the adrenaline and fear of Francesca bleeding over, lingering, causing her to pace and fidget. It usually took a moment or two for her to separate, but this time was worse. She could feel that monsters eyes on her, and it refused to leave for a few tense moments, in which she barked for her cigarette's again.
One of the white robed scientists came in with a metal tray, which contained a bowl of hot stew and bottled water, but she snatched up the cigarette's and Zippo from the tray, almost tearing the top off and pulling out one crumpled stick, cupping the flame as she lit it.
"Don't worry Sargent Dallas, we got everything. You should be fine to rest today" She relaxed, drawing on the cigarette and pushing back up to sit on the Animus, taking the tray and shooting the scientist an apologetic look, but there was a hint of a glare there, and he took the hint and left quickly.
"How many times we gotta do this before you start calling me Lidia?" She breathed, draining the bowel quickly, not caring for table manners. She was ravenous after her Animus sessions usually, and though her dehydration paled in comparison to her hunger, she drained the bottle just as quickly.
"So when are you guna tell me what the f**k I just saw in there? Is this what you dragged me from my Platoon for? That thing?"
The three scientists at the other end of the glass exchanged glances. "Ms Dallas, perhaps you should head to the rec room-" She slammed her tray on the Animus next to her hip, the bowl and bottle clattering to the ground loudly, silencing them.
"No, f**k you! I don't wanna watch any of your calming movies and play tennis, I want some f**king answers! What the f**k was that thing?!" She seethed, and after a few moments of stunned silence, she backed down, feeling quite embarrassed.
"S-sorry... I'm a little shaky at the moment..." She rubbed her arms, the shudder returning. "We understand Ms Dallas, the effects of the Animus sessions can take some getting used to. You've seen the reports on the earlier sessions, so we want to take it slow, make sure you don't get any of those negative effects"
"It's Lidia..." She breathed, not quite a growl, but with the same irritated edge to it. "I-I need to lay down... are we done? Can I go?" She fumbled about for a new cigarette and tried to cup the flame, even though there was no breeze in this still room. It was a nervous tick of hers.
"Are we done? Can I go?" The voice echoed, distorted, repeating several times, changing it's pitch and tone. The viewing modes changed, and a targeting reticle rushed through the multitude of buildings on the secluded colony, singling out the Animus Chamber. A red figure sat on the cool blue and green of the Animus, a small prick of red in it's heart, fading as the machine powered down.
"Are we d-d-done yet... Can I go?. It's Lidia. Start calling me Lidia" The Predator perched on the top of the guard tower, arm resting on his thick knee, growling, marking the woman in his visor, and the three in the observation room. He reached up to touch under his eye, where two long self inflicted marks crossed down his temple to his chin. It was the mark of his mission, his promise...
Growling, he stood and activated his cloak, clawed fingers tapping at the device on his arm, and then all that was left of him was the lingering clicking. Lidia shuddered once more, but this time, it had nothing to do with the Animus.
Excellent. :D
Do you intend on making Mr. Weyland a Templar? ;D
Charles Bishop Weyland seems much to honorable and noble to be the bad guy. Unless you mean a descendant? I think it'd be cool if the Templars got wiped out by Weyland-Yutani. It would show how badass and unstoppably ruthless our favorite evil corporation is.
I don't wanna post a large chunk here, so
Spoiler
What purpose would Weyland Yutani have in wiping out the Templars? I mean, it's completely up to Sabby, but it would sound more right if Abstergo was just bought up sometime way after Assassin's Creed 3 (We all know Abstergo's going to get screwed over by Desmond and the others.)
What's more, how would the Company even know about the Templars... or worse, what if the Templars were behind EVERYTHING IN Alien canon!?
;D oh, so many ideas... I wonder how Lidia's going to progress in the story. Will she escape from the labs, or will she stay there and study more of her ancestor's memories in Venice?
Weyland-Yutani could have found out about the Templars and became concerned that they may become a real threat to them. So they use their vast resources, many fictional evil corporations have lots of that, and maybe even manipulate the Animus people to wipe the Templars out for them.
Spoiler
The problem I see with a true crossover is along the lines that Abstergo is based off of Weyland-Yutani in may notable ways. It'd be hard to wipe out the Templars, seeing as through-out AC history, they've staged wars, assassinations, discoveries, explorations, and using the Pieces of Eden.
If anything, W-Y would want the Pieces of Eden!
That may be true, but what W-Y could want even more is the elimination of any possible threat to it. The Pieces of Eden can always be turned against it in the future. And remember this, W-Y is the forefront of technology, an incredibly powerful source, the Assassins never had anything that advanced in the past.
I'm taking it slow, thinking on how the plot will go. The next chapter or two won't need much heavy duty musing, since it will just be a return to Venice, but there is a rather big plot twist coming. I just want to make sure it hits home, instead of sounding silly (as past incarnations of the twist have been) This is the problem with crossovers >.< genuinely good intentioned plot twists can just seem like silly attention grabbers.
But I'm working hard on chapter 3, and there's more then a few revelations comings, I promise :) It's guna be Francesca vs No Rest a while but the plot will thicken.
Chapter 3
No Rest perched on the edge of the greenhouse, the vista that was Venice stretching out in all directions, a cobbled collection of rooftops and spires and towers spreading up, broken by the occasional house of worship, standing tall above it's peers. Their religious beliefs intrigued No Rest. Why they felt the buildings had to be so big, he did not know, but he could not suppress a humoured thought. 'Compensating...'
He watched the crowd's, like liquid magma flowing through the streets, red and orange weaving through the green. He cycled a few filter's, until everything was dark and blue, as if seen through some kind of x-ray, and one bob of golden light hurried through an alleyway. Got you, No Rest thought...
Marking a man with his visor was not something that lasted. Sometimes, No Rest cursed his peoples tradition of limiting the technology they bring, but then he would think to how easily the trophies would be gained... his frustrations could be suppressed, if it meant an honourable kill.
"Ishal! Ishal, let me in, I beg you!" The gold highlighted man pounded on a door in an alleyway, looking nervously over his shoulder. He perked at the name, and knew his hunch had been right. Ishal was Benedicts local partner, and this cowardly worker of his had brought him right to him. The whole operation had locked down after Benedicts grisly murder. Ishal had right to be afraid.
"For the love of His name, open the door!" No Rest dropped almost silently into the alley, feet landing in a small puddle with a splash. The man turned like a frightened cat, and caught a glimpse of the creature. A ripple travelled up through the cloak, a second of colour that seeped away as he stepped forward.
"Oh Lord... oh, though I walk in the shadow of the Valley of the Damned..." he chanted in a shaky voice, dropping to his knee's and pulling out a crucifix on a chain, mumbling the words and holding it to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. "I shall fear no evil..."
No Rest, however, walked straight past him, and wrapped his glimmering mirage of a hand about the doors handle. Like it was nothing but match sticks, he tore it from the wall, splintering it and wrenching iron locks from the mortar. Giving the cowering man no further heed, he stepped inside, and the shouts of confused and frightened men followed.
"Ishal! We must leave!" a dark skinned man in a faded yellow robe came stumbling into the room, followed by a group of hastily armed mercenaries. Some were still buckling their armour on. No Rest, perched in the upper section of the warehouse, scanned them, one by one, noting their weapons. Three of the ever common flat blades he had seen, a long pole with a bladed end, and an axe... five men in total, flanking a hastily dressed man. This would be easy.
Ishal was pulling the travelling cloak about himself, looking about the room, as if expecting an ambush at any second. "Assassin? She's here?" "I don't think so..." A silence followed, and everyone thought of the incident at the fair. Whispers of 'Demon' had followed the event, and the thought of something more deadly then an Assassin trailing them made all of them shudder in their cloaks.
"Bring the horses" "No time, we're meeting them outside, I don't want to stay in the... what in the Lord's name?" A three pointed targeting reticle had appeared on Ishal, hovering on his chest, and then up to his brow. Frozen, the man followed beam, and saw the shimmer of light in the rafters. His legs shook, and his men turned to face No Rest.
Out of no where, a white figure descended from the roof, dropping onto two guards, hands on their necks, pinning them down on the floor. Francesca rose, hands bloody, and grabbed the nearest man's axe, pushing the end to the dirty floor and stepping inside of his reach, a leg placed between his. Her Hidden Blade came into his stomach, causing him to gasp, eyes widen, and then slumped back.
As the third man rushed her, sword held at the ready, he jabbed behind her with the backhanded axe, the end colliding with his nose and stunning him. With a fluid movementl, she spun to face him, the axe twirling over her hand so it was held in the proper fashion. Rearing it back, she brought it down, and sliced into his chest with a sickening squelch.
Putting her boot into his stomach, she pushed him back and wrenched the bloody axe from him, then swung wide and hard at the staff carrying mercenary. The heavy blade collided hard with his polearm, forcing him back a step and splintering it. The second hit came hard enough to break the weapon in two, and the ace lodged itself into the man's helmet. He grunted, took a step back, and collapsed.
Ishal stood, shaking, watching in horror as Francesca slowly turned to face him, her white hood pulled up to conceal much of her face. She took a step forward, and Ishal panicked, falling back onto his rear and trying to clamber onto his hands and knee's so he could flee.
Francesca didn't give him the chance. Grabbing him by his cloak, she yanked him so he fell onto his back, and placed her boot on his chest. "Goodnight Ishal" She hunched down, grabbing his throat, and the Hidden Blade sunk into his jugular. Ishal's eyes widened, and in a few seconds, his head fell back, and a red pool of blood started to trickle across the fall.
Slowly rising, Francesca looked around the warehouse, and her eyes met for a second with No Rest. He stayed perfectly still, but he knew he had been seen. Francesca and No Rest glared at each other for a good long moment, and then the Assassin turned to leave. "It's not very nice to take what's not yours"
Clicking curiously, he targeted her, marking her in gold. He had seen her before... the one that had danced with Benedict. His reticle went to her arm, and found a metal device, under each wrist. Playing back the recording of the last kill in his visor, he focused on the woman that had danced with his quarry, and saw a small blade popping out behind her fan.
"Not very nice to take what's not yours" He repeated, in a warped, yet still quite feminine voice. "Not... very... nice..."
O.O I like it. :D
"Not...very...nice..." ooo I love this Predator's personality, can't wait to see how it goes from here ;D keep up the good work :)
Quote from: Gate on Nov 13, 2010, 08:32:52 PM
Spoiler
The problem I see with a true crossover is along the lines that Abstergo is based off of Weyland-Yutani in may notable ways. It'd be hard to wipe out the Templars, seeing as through-out AC history, they've staged wars, assassinations, discoveries, explorations, and using the Pieces of Eden.
If anything, W-Y would want the Pieces of Eden!
The thing is, I don't play the Assassin's Creed games, but my younger brother does so I know a little off him. From what I can gather from that and Wikipedia is that the Templars want world peace through the absolute control of all humans. Perhaps it's a noble concept, though horribly misguided. W-Y on the other hand, has never wanted any sort of bigger picture peace; the corporation has only wanted what it can gain; it's motivated entirely by greed, not some ideology to save mankind or anything. Therefore, it would make more sense to me if W-Y and the Templars weren't associated with each other in any kind of alliance or anything. As for the Pieces of Eden, I don't know much about them except that they have mind control abilities. An interesting idea is that they are alien pieces from the Space Jockeys that somehow arrived on Earth. Did everyone read the Alien Prequel script that supposedly said that the Space Jockeys had mind control powers?
Look's like I have some research to do then :) Pieces of Eden have been iffy... didn't want to over complicate the plot, so would only include them if the twist was solid.
I had a dream last night of an Alien Queen perched protectively over a small golden orb, flanked by two Praetorian's and hundreds of Drone's, snarling, protecting it...
Predxeno
SPOILER
I read this of xenopedia so it may not be true, but it said that according to the diaries you collect in avp 3, Karl Bishop Weyland said that he wants to make humanity the elite species in the universe, unmatched by anyone in technology and weapons, by utilising Xenomorph biology and Hunter technology, I don't know if this is true.
Also the pieces of Eden belong to Those That Came Here Before, basically an ancient Alien race that created humans in their own image.
Spoiler
NOTE: ASSASSINS CREED II END SPOILER
The Pieces of Eden were created to control the early humans so that those who came before could co-exist with us. The humans were too war-like and similar to them in too many ways. Hence, Adam and Eve were born demigods which made them immune to the Mind control. They stole the apples of Eden...
They're also fairly diverse. The mind control variety seem to be the most common, but there's also time travel.
I just finished Brotherhood. my analysis on the Piece of Eden follows
Spoiler
It can corrupt the wills and minds of men, turning them against each other or forcing total control on their subconscious and minds. The Apple can even kill them by draining their life-force. But as it seems, using the Apple can be so powerful that it can nearly kill the user. *SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER EZIO USES THE APPLE FO DEFEAT CESARE *SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER*SPOILER
Everyone, I am very sorry for the absence, I've had a lot happening here. I also live in Rockhampton, so if you've seen the news, you know I'm about to be partially under water.
I've had a lot of time to think, however, and Chapter 4 is definitely on it's way :)
The predator would kill her fast and painful!
But i dont know maybe not "_"
In a lot of cases, yes. I won't be writing the action sequences with them equal in strength or speed. Francesca will only prevail with trickery and gadget use, but their first meeting, she'll be lucky to even survive.
I have a question.
In the first few paragraphs, why did the Predator kill the diplomat?
It also said he's the head of an underground weapons dealership. He may not have had a weapon in his hands at that moment, but the Predator had followed the crime of the city and it ended with him.
Sabby it would be really cool to see the Predators in a flash back possibly hunting one of the "gods" or early humans even Adam or Eve (The Truth video is really cool) Those Who Came Before seem to be incredibly advanced probably even more so than the Predators which would mean more challenging hunts.
Or in your story we can have one of the characters stumble into another vault or temple and encounter a holograph of one of the "gods" or maybe some writing talking about the Predators etc.
You don't have to do this of course this was just my idea I wanted to share because I was thinking since these 2 species are incredibly old and advanced they had to encounter each other at some point and how they interacted (we can take a wild guess Predators are not called "predators" for nothing lol)
Do any of you guys think that The First Civilisation where aliens? they didn't really mention it they only said that they came before us but they don't say whether they are aliens.
Don't listen to GrumpBigBalls, Sabby. I just researched all his past posts, apparently he's like this on all the threads.
Hey Predxeno, rule number 1 of trolls.
Dont reply, it only makes it worse.
Noted.
Quote from: Cap. Fitzgerald on Jan 19, 2011, 02:55:20 AM
Hey Predxeno, rule number 1 of trolls.
Dont reply, it only makes it worse.
Damn you beat me to it ;D there is a saying "never feed the trolls"
His post has been deleted now, anyway.
Wtf? I missed it! Could someone PM and fill me in please? Dx
And no, I am not going to be going that deep with this. There'll be twists, but the problem with cross overs is that you can bite off more then you can chew. Justifying two elements of two different stories is hard enough as it is without trying to mix it all together where you don't need to.
I just started work on the new chapter, by the way.
Chapter 4.
Living under artificial light wasn't usually so bad. When you had constant control over when it was bright, and when it was dark, when it was still and cold and when the heat pressed down, you didn't really develope a body clock, so much as a switch. But Lidia had not yet adjusted, used to the harsh outdoors, with her troops, where man was still at the mercy of nature. Here, hiding in this metal box that shielded everyone from forces such as wind and sun, she was still stuck in that uncomfortable in-between region.
The lights flipped on one by one, bringing her doll house world into view, and she was sitting up in her bed from pure force of habit rather then concious decision. In nothing but a set of white underwear, which she always wore over the more feminine panties, given a choice, her light, pale skin, so typical for one with her hair colour, made her blend in with her box like, pristine white bed. She bowed her head and concentrated, mentally sweeping the cobwebs from her mind, ignoring the man in medical green that came in to lay a tray on her table. She was unashamed in her nudity, and she liked to be alone during her morning rituals anyway, her indecency discouraging any conversation from her 'nurse' as she called him.
There was comfort in the familiarity of a morning. Bowing over her sink to brush her teeth, rinsing and washing her face, counting down the seconds as her food cooled, knowing exactly when it would be the right temperature. But even so, she was born and bred into chaos, and none of that existed here. Out of the simple need for a change, she ignored her food a small while longer and sheared her head in front of the mirror.
"Ah, the classic buzzcut" The speakers toned as she stepped into the Animus area, the black shadows of scientists showing up against the cloudy glass. For once, she didn't exchange words with them. She was tired, and her body felt wrong, like the lack of any worldly force to guide her instincts was making her feel dull or sick. She had always hated space travel, but at least there was some sense of movement there. Here, everything was just... still.
"Let's get this over with..." She eventually mumbled and slid onto the Animus without complaint. The day had barely begun, and already, she wished it were over. She wanted to be in the rec room, wailing on the sand bags, playing wall tennis, anything to just feel that burning in her muscles, and the familiar pounding of blood in her head.
There was a dull, painless sensation, hard to describe, and within the span of a heart beat that felt more to her like several minutes of nothing, she was standing in an endless expanse of blue. It was clouded with what appeared to be mist, but upon closer inspection was small bits of code, almost like DNA strands, flocking and floating, some even darting by. She had seen it many times before, the all purpose simulation matter that would be tricking her into feeling wind on her neck, sweat matting her clothes, the suns heat, vertigo...
Taking a few small steps, she looked around and could see colour, the same you get behind your eyes when you take a good hit to the face. It's there, but you can't really describe it so well... it's more like an excess of sensory stimulation that you can't rightly comprehend. She watched her hands as she walked, as the skin tone subtly changed, the scar on her ring finger melting into view, and lines of white dashed across the floor under her vision, drawing out the tiles that were forming under her sturdy boots. She looked up and saw the marketplace forming around her, the skeletal frames of people gaining form and colour, sounds and smells assaulting her as the horizon grew, towers and buildings constructing themselves as if they were made of blocks.
There was an unperceived popping, like a release of static, as the simulation completed it's construction, Lidia stepping seamlessly into Francesca's mind, not even breaking pace.
Her hands were wet with blood, hidden in the dark green hooded cloak that she wrapped around herself. Her footsteps were slow but there was purpose behind them, and shouts coming from the markets behind her. Even with the sun only now reaching it's zenith, the streets were packed with shoppers. Perfect cover for her kill.
She could hear a group of guards shoving pedestrians around, getting closer to her, and as she entered the shade of an alleyway, she saw yet another group of them ahead of her, shoving a store owner and barking a few words she didn't hear. They must have seen her when she left, because she picked out the words 'green hood' from his lip movements, and the store keepers eyes darted to the side and caught hers. He hesitated, but the burly man followed his gaze and put his hand on the old man's chest, shoving him aside and striding forward.
Francesca had already slipped through a door to her left, coming into a dank, unpaved room with a few water damaged boxes piled up in one corner. Her boots pounded the loose wood and then scuffed at the walls as she scampered up a few feet, hunching and then kicking off, darting up into the rafters. She had barely perched when the door flew open and the guards came pouring in, hands on their swords, looking about the tiny room, ready to draw. There wasn't much room in here... it was best she make some room for them and leave.
Dropping silently behind them, she slipped out and shouldered the door closed. She pulled down the wooden plank to lock it, dashing down the street, smirking to herself as she heard the outraged cry of the guards and the pounding on the door. The thrill of the chase... it never failed to set her veins alight.
Ducking into an alleyway off of the street, she dropped a hook from her sleeve, which dangled on the end of a chain. She twirled it and swung, latching onto a sturdy bit of iron in one of the green houses where the markets would dry their herbs. She scuffled up the wall and blended in with the dull greens, just another mass of leaves, completely unseen as the now free group of guards trudged by, shouting.
When she dropped back down into the mud, her cloak was gone, now in her much cooler under clothes, a simple set of tan shawls, she stepped into the moving crowds and simply disappeared.
Standing atop one of the roof top pigeon coops, she tied the blood stained feather to one of the birds delicate legs, cradling it on it's back in her strong hand. It cocked it's head and gave a small kick, but other wise stayed still. It twisted when she threw it up, throwing it's wings out and giving a few furious beats to right it's position before darting off with confirmation of her kill. It would get there sooner then her, and the sky was getting dark now. The guards had been more ferocious then she expected, and her escape had not been so easy. A few more hours of eluding them had followed, and she only just now managed to far enough away to risk getting a carrier pigeon.
She was sweating, chest heaving slightly. She knew why they were so persistent. Il Diavolo di Venezia. The Devil of Venice. That's all the people were talking about... the unseen demon. She couldn't blame them.
Dropping down into the now empty alleyway, she was immediately met with several armed guards, swords drawn. Damn, she thought... they had been waiting for her. She turned, and several more stepped out to block her exit. The burly man with the squashed nose she had seen before was at their head, smirking. "Well well well... what do we have here. A merry chase you've lead us on Assassin"
As he spoke, the men fanned out, feet spread, ready to intercept an escape, moving in. Her mind whirred, eyes darting to assess her situation. This man was good... he had trapped her somewhere she wouldn't have much chance of climbing out of. It was just two smooth walls, an archway above, and an old, unused green house that she didn't feel she could trust with a breath of wind, let alone her own weight.
Carefully, she reached down to push the shawls back, the hilt of her dagger showing, while she palmed something in her other hand, stepped back and threading something through her fingers. When the first man made his move, she fed the hook and chain through her hand and swung it, hitting the green house and yanking it down. The rusted metal gave way easily and a mound of dried soil and old plants came crashing down on the advancing men on one side. There wasn't enough weight there to do any real damage, but a minute of dirty eyes and mouths was a minute they weren't were trading steel with her.
Turning, the hook still attached to the swinging metal frame, she took her dagger out just in time to catch a short sword coming down at her, the blades sliding until they were meeting at the hand guards. He shoved at her, but her boots braced into the dirt and she ducked so most of his forward strength send him off balance, coming up under his guard and bringing her knee to his groin. His eyes flew open and she backstepped in a neat twirl, her dagger slicing through his throat and the chain coiling around her arms to remove the slack.
Without wasting any time, she flicked her wrist, the movement travelling up the chain and dislodging it from the greenhouse, swinging it down so it clapped over a guards helmet, sending him reeling, clattering across the ground. Winding it around her fist, she yanked, and the hook latched onto the back of another guards ankle, pulling his legs out from under him and putting him on his back.
Stepping around in a 180 and winding the slack as she did, she swung wide at the four men who were still struggling with the collapsed greenhouse, the metal hook smacking the first man's wrist and disarming him, clapping over the others thigh and sending him dancing back with a yelp of pain.
There she stood, twirling the chain, panting and trying not to let the strain show, the men circling her like a pack of wild dogs trying to bring down an injured but raging ox. More men had entered the alley way, more then she could handle. The chain could only hold them back so long. She needed a way out.
The man with the squashed nose snarled and swiped at the air in frustration as he stepped up, pacing with her, eyes never leaving that chain, jumping back to avoid her cautionary swings. When the hook wrapped around his sword, he dug his feet in and ripped the hook right out of her hands, sending her forward onto her face.
She was done for... she knew it. She scrambled to her feet, but she was counting the seconds down, expecting the first sword blow to come down on her unprotected back. Her mind screamed at her to get up, but her body said to curl up and cover her head, her movements becoming a confused tug-of-war between the two.
And then, all of the hairs on her neck stood up, and her nerves suddenly ran with ice water. Like a centerpede crawling up the back of her neck, she heard that same low, shuddering series of clicks.
"Diavolo! Diavo-" The guards scream was cut short, the sound of something fast whizzing by, with a wet slicing sound and a gurgling. the whizzing came again, and she almost felt it zip past her shoulder, which caused her to instinctually cover her head with her arms. Several more screams and wet tearing sounds followed, blood splashing onto her back, and then, silence.
She was breathing fast, a clump of dirt pressed close to her mouth, body shaking. Slowly, her unresponsive limbs spread out and she pushed herself up onto one knee, raising to stand and looking around the now deathly silent alley. In all her years of training and professional kills, never had she seen so much blood at once. The metallic scent of it hit her nose and travelled down to her stomach, twisting it and making the figs she had eaten almost come back up. She felt queasy... no blade she had ever seen could do such damage to a human body.
Bodies lay in pieces, the stumps so clean they could only have been made with one surgically precise strike, the flesh and muscle and bone all carved evenly. She had seen a butcher sharpen his knives and still have to chop furiously a few times just to get through the muscle mass, and he had to bring out the bone saw to finish it off. Intestines had spilled into the dirt, purple and black and red and yellow... she had never seen a man gutted. She had stabbed a few in the stomach, but never had she opened one up to the point where he just... fell out.
Her knees were shaking, heart racing, the daggers handle gripped with white knuckles, chest thudding. She could feel her hurried breathing and pounding heart in her ears, like a drum, eyes darting around, looking for it... for Il Diavolo di Venezia.
Her hairs stood up from a kick of static, a crossing network of red beams cutting off the alleyway behind her, humming. She had barely turned around when a second set hissed across the air on the other side, blocking her off completely. There was a thud, and a swirling of dust, and as she focused her eyes, she saw the wavering outline of something tall, thick, and man shaped.
The hissing, clicking sound rattled again, and a set of yellow eyes flashed, a yellow disc humming to life in it's hand. It's synthetic voice mirrored hers.
"Not... very... nice..."
There! Phew, that turned out to be a lot longer then I thought... there's a whole other fight that I planned to add, but it's going to be split into another chapter.
It was really awesome, I like the Predator's entrance in the latest chapter I could just imagine it perfectly.
Thank you. I've always liked the Smart Disc as a melee weapon. Probably why I liked Tron: Legacy...
Nice. Really nice. Loved it. The fight scene was AWESOME!!!
Quote from: Sabby on Jan 20, 2011, 04:47:27 PM
Thank you. I've always liked the Smart Disc as a melee weapon. Probably why I liked Tron: Legacy...
Yes the Smart Disk is a really interesting weapon deadly and precise and sharp as hell.
it's like a death-frisby lol I could picture a Predator with his hound playing frisbee with the Disk ;D
Looking forward to the next chapter, I always liked the idea of the Predators hunting in the Assassin's Creed universe.
And to be honest I don't see anything that could go wrong with joining the universes in a crossover because it would be just like the Predators hunting in the old times (something I wanted to see for a while) I always wondered what our reaction to their presence would be back then lol.
Quote from: Guan Thwei 1992 on Jan 21, 2011, 04:35:59 PM
And to be honest I don't see anything that could go wrong with joining the universes in a crossover because it would be just like the Predators hunting in the old times (something I wanted to see for a while) I always wondered what our reaction to their presence would be back then lol.
Did you read any of the Predator omnibuses? I think one of the comics reveals that one Predator is the infamous Jack the Ripper. :laugh:
Quote from: Guan Thwei 1992 on Jan 21, 2011, 04:35:59 PMI always wondered what our reaction to their presence would be back then lol.
Anything before the modern age would be the typical religious, folklore or generally fantastical association. It would actually make it difficult to research interactions in the past, since they'd be chronicles of demons or dragon men.
Not sure if I should work on No-Rest's demon status or not... besides anyone in the fight scenes, Venice is pretty much not involved in the story. The repercussions of No-Rest's actions, the fear and superstition among the populace, the public announcements, hell, WITNESSES, none of it has shown up... and I'm torn on whether or not I should involve Venice more. Someone's seeing at least some of this, no question, it's just a matter of tuning it out or not.
Quote from: predxeno on Jan 21, 2011, 05:40:55 PMDid you read any of the Predator omnibuses? I think one of the comics reveals that one Predator is the infamous Jack the Ripper. :laugh:
Damn... haven't read that one yet. I have AvP Omnibus 1, and Terminator Omnibus 1 is next on my list. Just really tight on funds at the moment...
this story is brilliant I love the way people in this time react to a predator a demon, gods wrath when we all know the predator just wants a couple of heads in his trophy room, so I think you know by my reaction I'd love for you to work on no-rests demon status so he can laugh at announcements saying he's a demon. Can't wait for chapter 5.
Quote from: predxeno on Jan 21, 2011, 05:40:55 PM
Quote from: Guan Thwei 1992 on Jan 21, 2011, 04:35:59 PM
And to be honest I don't see anything that could go wrong with joining the universes in a crossover because it would be just like the Predators hunting in the old times (something I wanted to see for a while) I always wondered what our reaction to their presence would be back then lol.
Did you read any of the Predator omnibuses? I think one of the comics reveals that one Predator is the infamous Jack the Ripper. :laugh:
Oh yes I read some, I don't remember it revealing the Predator to be Jack the Ripper but I remember them being compared, the one I read was called "Spring Heeled Jack" a murderer who was rumoured to be able to jump really high (kind of fits Predators don't you think? they jump high as hell) ;D
Was that the one where the government hired some investigator to stop the murders?
Quote from: predxeno on Jan 22, 2011, 06:29:00 PM
Was that the one where the government hired some investigator to stop the murders?
I think so, it was set in london during victorian times I think it was a really good read but I must admit I had difficulty reading the narration because of it's handwriting.
I just checked it it's called Predator: Nemesis
Chapter 5
Lidia woke with a start. The image of No-Rest faded from her memory, as it became just that, a memory... a second hand account of something. There was always a few seconds of sluggishness as Francesca's identity would ebb away, and she would no longer feel her fear or excitement as her own. It always left a shadow of itself, however, and was stronger each time... even though she had not stood before the creature personally, there was a dull shadow of that fear still in her.
Breathing slowly and closing her eyes again, she calmed herself. "Short session... guessing that's the thing your looking for then. Guys?" When silence was all that followed she opened her eyes and looked around. The hairs stood on the back of her neck as she sat up, cautiously peering around. All seemed still and right...
"Hey, come on, talk to me guys..." She swore under her breath, pushing off and landing on her feet, breath quickening slightly. Something wasn't right... and then she noticed that the observation window had grown dark. It was a black strip, about 15 feet above her, just below the roof. Taking a slow, cautious step, she peered into the cloudy glass.
"Hello? Stop f**king with me..." And then, the speaker rattled, a familiar male voice coming through. It sounded slightly off pitch. "Get onto the Animus Sergeant Dallas" She had relaxed for barely a heartbeat. "There a power problem or something guys?"
The same voice, the same line, repeated. It was eerie. Her hairs were already sticking up, but that might have well sent them skyward. Taking a slow backwards, she reached behind her to feel along the smooth surface of the service tray next to the Animus, looking for something, anything, to pick up...
"Sergeant Dallas..." The pitch fell to a menacing growl, and the busted light finally popped, the small eruption of sparks lighting up the inside of the observation room a few second, the glass smeared with crimson. A tall, broad shouldered silhouette stood out in the weakly flickering light, like a figure behind a wall of paper, lit by a flickering candle. As the light died in earnest, two yellow eyes flashed, and the room echoed with a series of clicks.
Before Lidia could act, a large, scaly green hand came through the glass, and the Predator shouldered through, dropping into a crouch. With lightning speed that something that big shouldn't have possessed, it came for her, almost the millisecond it had landed, like a charging bull.
Crying out, her movements a fusion of ingrained training and panic, eyes wide, she gripped the light metal cart and hurled it side arm. It simply bounced off of him. She might as well have been throwing it before a freight train. In the span of an inhaled breath it had it's fingers around her throat, shoving her back, bending backwards over the Animus. She tried to scream, but it's thick fingers had closed her throat so it could only take in the smallest, slowest of breaths.
Peering down at her was a mask of dark grey metal, flawless and new, the only marks on it two long streaks down one eye. The eyes at first looked like black glass, but she could see they were segmented, like a dragonfly's, complex and intricate. Tube like extensions that she couldn't describe fell down the shoulder of the arm that crushed her, so alike hair, yet she couldn't describe what exactly it was made of... like a fusion of rubber and metal fibres, gold coloured rings along each one at regular, neat intervals.
While it towered a full head over her, she gained the impression that it was young... it was certainly much smaller then No-Rest, and the thick arm that dominated her lower vision was also much leaner, even though it could have crushed her windpipe with a flex. It's armour was also as new as it's mask, at least what she could see of it, though her knee, which was pushed against it's chest, felt the familiar resistance of flesh and muscle. It's throat rattled and clicked, the sound low and ominous.
"Get onto the Animus"
I've got some tough choices coming up, with how the story is faring... I have a much more solid idea of the over all story arch and twists and ending, but it's nearly impossible to include all of the main characters right up to the end.
I have a question; in Chapter 3 where the Predator marks targets in yellow, is that what Wolf did to the Predalien in AVPR?
I don't know. Was like tagging them to find them later. Kind of takes the challenge out of tracking, so it's time limited for his mission. Those kinds of abilities only ever come out when things get serious, like in Requiem.
Story is almost finished. The final scene came to me in a very vivid dream. I would give a teaser, but it's just too awesome. Guna save it.
Quote from: Sabby on Jan 02, 2011, 03:17:56 AM
Everyone, I am very sorry for the absence, I've had a lot happening here. I also live in Rockhampton, so if you've seen the news, you know I'm about to be partially under water.
I've had a lot of time to think, however, and Chapter 4 is definitely on it's way :)
WoW! I live on the Gold Coast so not far from the Brisbane floods, that flood was intense. Hope you were all ok.
Quote from: Fujimaster on Jan 26, 2011, 12:44:29 PM
Quote from: Sabby on Jan 02, 2011, 03:17:56 AM
Everyone, I am very sorry for the absence, I've had a lot happening here. I also live in Rockhampton, so if you've seen the news, you know I'm about to be partially under water.
I've had a lot of time to think, however, and Chapter 4 is definitely on it's way :)
WoW! I live on the Gold Coast so not far from the Brisbane floods, that flood was intense. Hope you were all ok.
Oh, I haven't seen a drop of water here. Was lucky.
In related news, script has undergone some changes. I'm sorry for the short chapter, but I needed to pad out some time. Didn't want two large fights back to back.
...why am I even trying? I work so hard on a crossover that at least makes a little sense, it get's nothing on Fan Fic.net... but then some shitty AvP/Eragon Crossover comes along and it's all "DUUUDE! U ROCK! MAEK MOAR PLZ?!?!"
Uhg x.x
Don't pay attention to that, I actually like your story. Eragon and AVP? Now I don't want to make judgments before I've even read the story, but I'm a little bit hesitant on thinking that it may work out well.
I didn't actually read it, the crossover just put me off so bad. I actually don't like crossovers. Yes, that's weird coming from someone writing one, but Predator and Assassin's Creed at least have some chemistry together. I've seen some extremely poor pairings, and AvP/Eragon doesn't quite reach the Indiana Jones/Voldemort erotica level of stupid, but it's on that chart somewhere.
Sabby, please dont stop writing this story. IT ROX! Since I came across it a few weeks ago I have been checking each day religeously for the next chapter, please don't stop. It mixes two of some of my most favourite things and the story is progressing nicely.
As with all great artists, your time will come...youll just have to trust me.....trust me?
(https://www.avpgalaxy.net/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2F28.media.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_l5er49VDRN1qbxf31o1_400.jpg&hash=586e27dc84b27333d9fc5a1a7cd60a608df2ab5d)
Quote from: Fujimaster on Feb 08, 2011, 11:44:44 AM
Sabby, please dont stop writing this story. IT ROX! Since I came across it a few weeks ago I have been checking each day religeously for the next chapter, please don't stop. It mixes two of some of my most favourite things and the story is progressing nicely.
As with all great artists, your time will come...youll just have to trust me.....trust me?
http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l5er49VDRN1qbxf31o1_400.jpg
What this guy said, please don't stop just because on fanfiction they preferred the other one more than yours let them, here we prefer your one over theirs, seriously eragon vs avp? it's like putting Aliens and Predators in Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, they just don't mix.
Assassin's Creed and Predators mix really well they are both sci fi and no magic or fantasy is involved they are both realistic in a sci fi way ;D
Please for the love of God just don't give up on the story because it is getting really interesting and I really wanna see what happens next!! :)
Well, I have a million things to do today, but I should start the chapter sometime later.
Thanks for the support, by the way. Had no idea you liked it so much...
Quote from: Sabby on Feb 08, 2011, 11:23:52 PM
Thanks for the support, by the way. Had no idea you liked it so much...
No problem :) I undersrand that you are busy sometimes, I am not urging you to hurry up or anything just don't give up on it, I can wait for a surprisingly long time if the story is good as this, no seriously I am not being sarcastic!!
Chapter 6
The pale woman was once again atop The Animus, brow furrowed as part of her real consciousness clung, slowly seeping away so that Francesca could fill the void. Fissure stood over her, tilting his head with a curious clicking, once again tracing the twin marks along his mask.
Like his father, he had grown to consider the humans weak and pitiful, nothing more then animals with enough intelligence to pose a threat when armed and in numbers. But, like No-Rest, his time among them had opened his eyes. This 'Animus' was truly amazing machine for such a young species.
Stepped back, he brought up the holographic screen before him, shining from his arm, and watched as it initialized. He had gone to great personal risk to acquire the information he needed to adapt his technology to the Animus. He had given a lot more then just his safety and his time, however... at this point, even his own pride would be on the table if that were the price. This mad hunt had consumed his life...
Why did his father go? What did he see in that... thing? there were many names for it in his peoples tongues, and many more in other languages. A Prophet, a Seer, a Councilor, a Spirit Guide... All these names meant nothing to him. If this woman was what it took to find the answers he needed, then there was no force great enough to keep him from her.
Finally, the display crackled, and after a few seconds of flickering, he saw the image of his father, No-Rest, a young buck no older then he was now, cloaked and wielding his Smart Disc, the miasma of searing red behind him causing his image to shimmer like blood through crafted glass.
Fissures chest tightened at the sight of him, mixed feelings swelling and promptly being forced down, like an unsavory surge of bile, his mandibles twitching under his mask.
Careful with that one... may have a bit too much of his father in him. The voices of his sparring partners came to him again, a dull, hollow pain, experienced far too many times for him to feel any more then that. At first, he had been angry and defended his father viscously, becoming a terror in the ring, until no one wished to face him, alienating his peers within and outside of his training. But soon, their poisonous words had gotten to him, seeped in and took root...
Had his father truly been mad? Why did you leave, he thought to himself... what was so important you must brand me in this way?
He drew himself from his reverie, focusing instead on the display. This was where he would find his answers, not in pointless reflection.
Francesca reached to her hip, throwing back her shawls to grab another of her concealed daggers, but No Rest stepped forward and side armed the Disc, which streaked past her and sheared the knife in half, right out of her hand. She yelped, the handle slipping from suddenly jittery fingers, the Disc whizzing past her ear and into No Rests hand. Shrieking in startled pain, she saw the shimmering mirage shove the yellow disc of light forward, the flat side slamming into her chest and lifting her off of her feet.
The breath was knocked from her lungs, coming out in a grunt as she rolled along the dirty unpaved floor, coming dangerously close to the wall of lasers. The hairs on her arms and neck stood up from the static, the heat prickling her skin, lungs burning as she coughed and wheezed, cradling her aching chest. At least one rib was fractured...
He was toying with her. IT was toying with her. The Demon could have killed her three times by now, but it didn't. She looked up as she heard her own laugh come from it's shimmering face. For some reason, Francesca hated that. Hearing herself speak, from the fanged mouth of a demon, for some reason she couldn't describe, just set a fire in her.
With blazing, defiant eyes, she looked about the narrow, and seemingly inescapable alley, eyes darting across the smooth walls and the exit at the other end. She might have been able to dive through, but she didn't like her odds, and wasn't very keen on seeing what those... lights would do to her. Her only option, ironically, was what was left of the green house, a twisted corner of rusty metal frame work, hanging from one seemingly solid bolt.
It was too high to reach, and there was nothing to use as a step. Then, an idea came to her... and that fire in her eyes was stoked three fold. She dug her fingers into the churned bloody earth, and swung a hand full of mud at it. If the creature had eyes, then it wouldn't be using them for at least a few seconds, as the wet dirt slopped across its mask.
No Rest snarled and swapped out his vision mode, just in time to see Francesca's bright green visage materialize in front of him, sprinting and then leaping up onto him, a foot pushing into his chest and grabbing a handful of his dreadlocks to pull up and put her other foot on his shoulder. If he had reacted a second earlier, he would blown a hole right through her while she still perched on him, but she kicked off and speared up just far enough to get one hand around the metal frame. The bolt of Plasma streaked between her feet and impacted with the archway above the exit, sending a dust cloud up with a blast of stinging rubble.
Her chest pained her, the cracked rib burning from the strain, but she managed to climb up the metal and pull herself onto the roof, rolling onto her back and gasping for breath. She didn't allow herself to rest, rolling onto her knees and breaking into a sprint, just as another bolt of Plasma tore through the stone and mortar behind her in a thunderous detonation.
She ran, as fast as she could, her lungs screaming, chest searing with the effort, but she didn't let herself slow for even a second, kicking her heart beat into a dangerously fast pace. Out of pure instinct, she reached under her shawls and dug into her knife belt, a small throwing dagger held between each knuckle. Then, she felt a stinging in her eye, a red light, and a wavering image standing before her on the shingled roof, a fistful of blue light charging.
She dived to her side, rolling out of the way and into a crouch, the Plasma screaming past her and ripping through the ceramic tiles, detonating somewhere a floor or two down. As she came to her three pointed crouch, she flung her arm out, tossing the knives, which were batted back towards her, caught in... a net?
The metal wire net took her off of her feet and slammed her hard into the tower behind her, the shock shaking her entire body, groaning. Then, the small spears that pinned her net to the mortar whirred, and she felt as though a dozen men with knives had taken to her at once. Her clothes were shredded with ease, the wire sinking into her skin and slicing her hair off in fistfuls, cutting a crisscrossing pattern down one side of her face.
She screamed from the pain, struggling, but it was no use. Breathing hard, she scanned the roof tops, and then, with a crackle, The Devil of Venice appeared before her in all it's naked horror. Taller then her by two heads, its chest and arms were scaled and green, black claws and long dark quills, a face like a death mask with insect like black eyes, and a single skull hanging from his waist. Benedicts skull.
And that was what brought it all crashing down for her... she had stolen from a Demon. A DEMON! And for what? A simple matter of principle? Of pride? And now, her punishment stood before her, a slowly approaching death, and no possible means of escape or defense... it was over. The Demon, Il Diovolo de Venezia, would take her, and she would hang right next to Benedict.
No Rest laughed in her voice, and then, he made his biggest mistake ever. As he slowly walked towards her, he extended his Bladed Gauntlet, and then quickly retracted, repeating faster as he approached, in an exact imitation of her Pre-Assassination ritual.
Nothing could have set her off more then that. The wires slicing her skin, putting pressure on her cracked rib, the many bruises and burns and the sliced ear, none of it could have doused the sudden flame that erupted in her at that sight. She clenched her teeth and growled, meeting the Demons black, soulless eyes with equal challenge and fury and defiance. Covertly, she thumbed something inside her Hidden Blade, testing her legs to see if either one had any mobility. She could move one leg, and she gave the heel a tap against the wall, testing the mechanism hidden there.
"Come on, come on... a little closer... Lei il brutto f**ker di madre" She counted, much the same way she did when she had first crossed The Demon, eyes watching it's massive serrated blades, counting in time with their extending and retracting. 10 steps away, she counted... 8 steps, the blades went faster, her heart rate picked up. 5 steps, the clicking mechanism thumped and clacked, her brow was beading with sweat. 3 steps, almost...
No Rest reached out and cupped her face, so small and delicate to his massive hand, stroking down her cheek and turning her head to observe that thin, fleshy neck. He chuckled in her voice, picking up a voice file he had taken from her just this morning.
"So close... I can take you whenever I want to..." She snarled but bit down on the sound, fixing him with a fiery glare. "So, you know one of my tricks... good... good thing for me, I have more!"
She stamped her boot down, the Hidden Blade in her heel plunging down into The Demons foot, which brought a surprised wail of pain and anger. The first thing a person does when taking a shot to the leg was to immediately take the weight off of it and place it on the uninjured one. Francesca had no intention of leaving it uninjured though. As The Demon hopped back, she yanked the Blade out and hooked her leg around his other one, sinking the Blade into the back of his knee. If The Demon had tendons, it was one short now.
Howling with rage, The Demon bucked and fell back, the net getting caught on his Gauntlet, his massive weight wrenching the net from the weak tiles and mortar. Francesca braced and kicked off, riding his chest to the ground, one arm reared back, roaring.
There was a loud bang, and suddenly, all was still. Her hand was spread over The Demons face, the Hidden Blade plunged into its neck. The unmistakable scent of gunpowder clung to the air, her wrist shaking from the kickback of the small pistol next to her Blade.
When the fiery red finally started to drain from her vision, she saw herself reflected in the Demons black eyes. She saw a woman snarling like an animal, face smeared in her own blood, hair a cropped, uneven and dirty mess, eyes wild and teeth bared. Slowly, she began to relax, and as the adrenaline drained from her system, the multitude of small wounds came rushing back, one by one. Slowly, she took the Blade from his neck and leaned forward, staring curiously into its face... or was it a face at all?
She wouldn't get to find out. All the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly shot up with static and ice dropped into her veins as the now familiar clicking rattled from the metal mask. She barely had time to tense her body before its massive clenched fist swung at her, its knuckles clapping into her temple.
Colour exploded across her vision, pain screaming through her skull and down her neck. The sky and the reddish tiles rolled about her, and then she was weightless, falling, then the canals enveloped her...
Feeling as though she weighed too much to even stand, she dragged herself to the surface, the whole world seeming to sway and roll about her. She coughed and wheezed, barely managing to throw her arms over a gondola, clinging with all her minimal strength and waiting for the stars to leave her eyes, or for the world to go black and the canals to swallow her body forever. Whichever came first.
And then, as if to make her end just that much worse, the Demon dropped from the rooftops and landed in a crouch on the boat, hard enough to send a small wave across the channel that almost shook her from her lifeline. She held her breath, eyes wide with terror as its scaled foot dominated her vision. Looking up, she saw the red light, blinding her, and she simply closed her eyes tight, waiting for it... waiting for the end.
Several seconds passed in silence, and when she opened her eyes, the injured Demon was scanning that scarlet beam across the water, searching the surface. After a moment, it crouched, favouring its stabbed foot, and launched, disappearing.
It was a whole minute before her heart beat returned to normal and she somehow found the strength to pull herself up onto the boat, her limp and destroyed body flopping inside. She was reeling, dancing on the edge of consciousness, but before the darkness took her, she wondered why it had spared her... and she knew that it hadn't. Somehow, the Demon had been blinded to her, and it was this knowledge that sustained her, a flickering hope of besting it.
She gave in, and blackness took her.
It is really starting to get interesting now, the last chapter was just awesome I really liked it.
Awesome! cant wait for the next part.
Chapter 7
Francesca didn't remember how she got out of there, or who had come to her rescue, but she felt a sense of familiarity, and comfort. The Assassins had found her, baking under the sun caked in filth. She had dreams of her filthy clothes being cut from her body, an old nurse calling for hot water occasionally, and the pungent smell of herbs and other remedies. Her hands stung from the chemicals, but all she could manage was a gasp and a weak wriggle, too weak and feverish to do much else.
She had fallen in the canals with her skin sliced to ribbons and then lay in open sunlight for hours. It was a wonder she was alive at all. Ignoring the beating the Demon had given her, the infection was even worse. That water had so much filth in it, and she had practically marinated in it. No matter how much this woman scrubbed at her, she felt as though it were inside of her, under her skin, deep inside the lacerations, making her burn with hell fire one moment and then shake with a sudden freezing cold the next.
Her dreams were feverish, cobbled nightmares of running across a dark rooftop clad in smoke of all different colours while a darkness raced behind her, licking at her heels. She fought a fiery eyed shadow when her wrists and ankles weighed too much to lift, and it toyed with her in her weakness. She was drowning, a shifting green curtain above her with rays of vibrant red spearing through, dark tendrils dragging her down.
And when she managed to escape this, it was only for a few seconds to accept a wooden cup of water pushed to her lips, the blurry outline of a nurse sitting vigil over her, and then her consciousness would fade once again. Her entire body shuddered as a familiar sound rattled in her mind, the tall, broad shadow standing over her bed, mask flashing with golden, soulless eyes. The Demon simply stood and watched her, and she knew she was not dreaming. What a sorry state she must have looked, eye lids fluttering open, squirming weakly and breathing in shallow, shuddering breaths, drenched in her own perspiration.
"You'll be okay" It said in the words of her nurse. "You will live to stalk Venice another day..." It could have killed her right there, but she knew it wouldn't. What was kinder? To let her fever take her, or to recover and meet the Demon again. For a moment, what was left of her conscious thought actually wanted him to end it. What hope did she have, anyway? She closed her eyes and swallowed, throat dry and raspy.
"Do it..." She gasped, breath rattling. Her fingers weakly balled up the sheets, the air turning cold, as if her soaked body had simply flash froze, and the hard, cold edge of the Animus returned to her. Lidia Dallas opened her eyes to see the exact same image that Francesca had, the young 'Demon' standing over her.
Fissure grabbed her by her arm and dragged her as if she weighed no more then a doll, ignoring her struggling and tossing her into her room. As she hit the ground with a grunt, he tapped his wrist mounted computer and the door sealed before she could scramble to her feet. A tray of partially crushed bread and some soy bars was kicked through the slot, and a bottle of water followed. Fissure ignored her pounding on the door.
This was the hardest part... the waiting. He couldn't risk over working her. The mental strain of extended Animus sessions could alter her too much to get a clear memory, and he was already unsure of what he might see. He didn't want any room for doubt.
Glowering at the door, he turned and silently stalked back to he Animus, clicking impatiently. It was only a matter of time before the humans came, and he needed the memory before then. Tapping his black clawed fingers along his wrist, a holographic display snapped into life, a virtual wall before him.
There were blueprints for the Animus, records of sessions, historical accounts from Earth, folklore and legends, a star map with several locations marked, and in the center of it all lay the item he so desperately sought.
A young Yutja peers from a doorway, watching a much older one, his father, slump across his chair in the now empty meeting hall. His father, No Rest, war lord and one of the most feared fighters in their long memory, the greatest and most ruthless of their kind, and yet he looked whithered and old before his time. He stared into his hand, where an item glowed faintly
He was listening... and then, he slowly turned to meet eyes with his son, and Fissure expected him to hastily hide the item and bark at him to leave, but instead, he saw those black eyes show nothing for the first time. No rage or outburst could have hit Fissure harder then the seemingly empty look
In the center of the hologram was a golden orb. The Apple of Eden, the humans called it. Fissure glared at it, as he had for some time now, as if the answer was right there before him. What is this thing? How did it build and destroy his father the way it had? Where was it now?
Awesome I really wonder where the Predator got the Apple from, the last chapter is really interesting.
I wonder what use No-Rest had for it maybe it had answers he seeked or something I wonder what's going to happen next, keep up the good work.
;D
Awesomness
I am still working on this, but I have a new Crossover going as well, Predator: War Machine. See if you can guess whats being crossed xD
Quote from: Sabby on Mar 12, 2011, 01:12:23 AM
I am still working on this, but I have a new Crossover going as well, Predator: War Machine. See if you can guess whats being crossed xD
War Machine? the guy from Iron Man?...*patiently waits for reply*
Quote from: Guan Thwei 1992 on Mar 12, 2011, 01:20:18 PM
Quote from: Sabby on Mar 12, 2011, 01:12:23 AM
I am still working on this, but I have a new Crossover going as well, Predator: War Machine. See if you can guess whats being crossed xD
War Machine? the guy from Iron Man?...*patiently waits for reply*
PFFT! Yeah, I'm guna do comic crossovers xD totally
This Assassin seems to be a very violent and bloodthirsty individual.
Is she supposed to be the protagonist?
Quote from: Sabby on Mar 12, 2011, 05:03:43 PM
Quote from: Guan Thwei 1992 on Mar 12, 2011, 01:20:18 PM
Quote from: Sabby on Mar 12, 2011, 01:12:23 AM
I am still working on this, but I have a new Crossover going as well, Predator: War Machine. See if you can guess whats being crossed xD
War Machine? the guy from Iron Man?...*patiently waits for reply*
PFFT! Yeah, I'm guna do comic crossovers xD totally
Not sure if its been done but, Terminator?
Quote from: samoht on Mar 13, 2011, 12:27:10 AM
This Assassin seems to be a very violent and bloodthirsty individual.
Is she supposed to be the protagonist?
Francesca and Lidia were supposed to be the 'heroes', but I've written myself into a corner, and now Fissure is going to be the main character. Not sure how I feel about that, which is why the story is on hold.
Quote from: Fujimaster on Mar 13, 2011, 02:58:42 AM
Quote from: Sabby on Mar 12, 2011, 05:03:43 PM
Quote from: Guan Thwei 1992 on Mar 12, 2011, 01:20:18 PM
Quote from: Sabby on Mar 12, 2011, 01:12:23 AM
I am still working on this, but I have a new Crossover going as well, Predator: War Machine. See if you can guess whats being crossed xD
War Machine? the guy from Iron Man?...*patiently waits for reply*
PFFT! Yeah, I'm guna do comic crossovers xD totally
Not sure if its been done but, Terminator?
Perhaps.
A Terminator crossover would be EPIC. ;D ;D I've been wanting a good one of those for ages.
LOL - It came from the stars to hunt us, now it must protect its favourite prey from Extinction by the machines.
(https://www.avpgalaxy.net/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2F28.media.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_kzg92zEqyQ1qa7qbyo1_500.jpg&hash=216d2c52af0b5aeb423034ee25869c713d8be372)
I want your clothes, your boots, and your plasma caster
(https://www.avpgalaxy.net/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fmovieodyssey.com%2Ffiles%2F2009%2F03%2Fterminator-v-predators-copy.jpg&hash=de52b5597230feedf323cdcd6eae3d3c05c5cdba)
:laugh:
Hey Sabby, I made this in the hope it would inspire you to write a TvP story ;)
Please dont make me have to do it....
(https://www.avpgalaxy.net/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi1123.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fl551%2FFujimaster%2FTvP.jpg%3Ft%3D1300383357&hash=87b6f6a372fdeda53e54e6d3dd639087bfe70146)
But pleeeeeeeeeeease, i'm waiting for a finale to this assasisins story. P-P-P-Pleeeeeeease!!!
(https://www.avpgalaxy.net/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fdystopium.files.wordpress.com%2F2009%2F04%2Froger-rabbit1.jpg&hash=b304f8b2ea8fb49e273d70b3ea98d410dec37129)
Haha, thanks, I'm working on it.
Chapter 8
Francesca stood in the garden, light from the early morning spearing down through gently waving branches and wooden trellis-work. Standing tall and without the aid of a crutch, wearing nothing but her white medical robes, she tested both legs, making sure they were strong. It had been months since she had fallen into the Canals, but all that remained of her surface wounds was a patchwork of scars. Her injuries remained, in ways more subtle then mere cuts and bruises.
Taking a deep breath, she held it in her chest, and then released from her nose. Opening her eyes, her now short cropped hair fluttered with the breeze, fringe doing nothing to hide the crisscrossing of pale white lines down her face. She could smell the musty stink of the water, and it only brought the memories back, mingling with the figments and the nightmares that had plagued her fever stricken dreams.
Taking hold of that small burst of emotion, she flicked her wrist, a dagger falling from her sleeve and into her hand. It twirled on her palm and she backed into a stance, throwing her other arm back so a second dagger could appear. The image of that dark shadow, those red blazing eyes, rushing towards her... she pursed her lips and pushed the anger down, stepping forward and swiping at the air.
Already her muscles burned, but she refused to give in. When she felt as though her legs would give out on her, the image of the scaly Demon striding towards her on the rooftops reappeared, and her scars burned as if she were trapped once again in his net. Snarling, she threw out a series of slashes, chest slamming, until she felt a sickening clench in her left leg.
Grunting, she fell down onto her good knee, shuddering and biting down to keep from crying out. The overworked muscle was tight and twitching, cramping up painfully. She was still too weak... Pushing up to her feet, she bowed her head and limped over to her crutch, taking it under her arm and moving across the garden to the curtained doorway, unwilling to meet any gaze. They told her she was too weak, but her stubbornness kept her from listening. She refuses to let them see the pain.
Fissure clicked his mandibles in irritation. How much longer would he have to endure this monotony? He could skip periods of time, but too many and the humans mind would be over worked. If he jumped too far, he could miss the event all together. His hand hovered over display, debating whether or not to go forward another month. This time, it only took a moment before he punched the command in, the display returning to that white, misty area of nothing.
Time was running out... he needed this memory, fast.
(https://www.avpgalaxy.net/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Froma.theoffside.com%2Ffiles%2F2010%2F02%2Fcrank_yankers_yay-737929.jpg&hash=684832a1f4cc1b499108995bbf28c3d765d61f3e)
Sorry for the short chapter. Working on something big now.
No need to apologize as long as the chapter was good, which it was. ;)
Great chapter, I really wonder what Fissure is looking for, what does Fissure mean? the name sounds awesome :)
Its when a crack spreads across the ground. He got the name because everyone suspects he has his fathers insanity, but its all under the surface for now. They're just waiting for him to snap. His name is an insult to him and his family.
That's pretty unfair for Fissure. :(
He obviously agrees... he feels strongly enough to go into self imposed exile and give up his status among his people to find the answers to his fathers death.
Though this isn't out of family love... his own honor is stained by his fathers.
Chapter 9
Francesca was standing on the tiled rooftops of Venice, shifting mist of mesmerizing silver blanketing the area, sending odd shifts of colour throughout the area. Before her was a strange movement, a shifting of motion, like heat waves that soon turned to ink, a spreading darkness. Within this black mass, The Demon stood, a part of it, its true outline lost among its surroundings. Its yellow eyes blazed like brightly burning lanterns seen through blurry eyes, twin daggers of cold slicing through the shadows and the mist.
She had tried to run before, but each time it had proved useless. No matter how much ground she covered, it never got further away, simply looming closer, growing larger, so imperceptibly it was impossible to tell when and how it had changed. It was an inescapable abyss, the symbolism of her frailty and helplessness at the Demons hands. Somewhere inside, she knew she was asleep and that this was simply her resting mind and its eccentric understanding of its own machinations. But still she cowered...
But this time, something happened, something that hadn't with her previous nightmares. When she stood her ground and let herself be still, she felt a peculiar change. Like smoke upon a backdrop of smoke, she simply cease to be, phasing out, here still, yet hidden.
With a shudder and a snarl, the darkness spread, both confused and angered by this, and suddenly the true form of the Demon stood out among the inky black. Somehow, seeing it as it was, without the shroud of mystery about it, cleared her childish fear. The closet doors had been thrown aside and the monster that lurks had been revealed for what it was, and ONLY what it was. Heart hammering against her ribs, she dashed into the blackness, Hidden Blades extending from her wrists like beams of shining silver, and she threw herself at it.
As the darkness swallowed her, she awoke, not with a start, or a gasp, but nothing. She simply stared at her roof, letting her mind work, sluggish as it was, and then she pulled her weak body up. With a sudden surge of energy, her pulse racing and her eyes alight, she hobbled to the small wooden table and reached out for the quill and papers, casting them across the surface and pushing them out.
The quill was scratching on the paper before she had even pulled the chair out to lower herself gingerly onto it. Her eyes raced across the page that was taking form before her, dominating all of her attention, so much so she didn't even notice the early morning twilight. Straining to see her own writing, she squinted, not wanting to take her hands away to light a candle.
She barely even noticed the sounds of creaking stairs as her nurse hobbled from her room in her night gown, yawning and holding a lamp in one bony hand. "Francesca? You should be in bed!" But the Assassin only pushed a hastily scrawled scrap of paper to the edge of the table, the ink stained in her haste.
"Get as much as you can. Florins are in a chest under my mattress. Use all of it. Go to every store in Venice if you have to"
The Nurse looked curiously at the list of ingredients, a non-nonsensical collection of chemicals and apothecary tools. Squinting, she peered and tried to deduce what Francesca was planning to with it all, and opened her mouth to speak, but she felt as though she were about to pull a bone away from a starving hound.
"R-right away Miss Francesca!"
"Right away Miss Francesca! Right away..." The words echoed ponderously, the shimmering outline of No-Rest flashing golden as the first rays of light speared over the rooftops. Reaching up to splay his hand over his chest, his black claws traced down his collar bone, savoring the memory of the injury, his first real challenge. Somehow, the near fatal strike to his jugular had been far sweeter then the trivial taking of Benedict. And now, he and his quarry were stuck in this maddening stall. Seeing her with such energy, like she had an actual hope to cling to, a real, genuine hope, instilled a measure of excitement in him.
"You should be in bed... you should be in bed Francesca" What was she planning?
Whats this? The first semblance of an actual plot twist? But there hasn't been one fight scene in the last few chapters! Priorities man, priorities!
That was awesome!!!
Chapter 10
Francesca tossed the scrawled and messy papers into the hearth, the renewed flame sending light flashing in those cold, steely eyes. She was not paranoid... she knew it watched, and every day she destroyed all of her writings. She had dragged the desk and her bed down into the basement, where the floor had not been paved, and rarely did she leave it. Her skin was paler now, hair a tangled mess, strands sticking out at odd angles. Dark circles covered her eyes, feet black, the robe she clutched about herself filthy and slightly damp in areas.
She knew she would only catch a cold down here, and her immune system was still quite weak from the canal incident, but she couldn't let it know what she planned. It was her only chance. In the time she spent down here, she hardly even noticed the strength returning. Her nurse only came down to bring food and lay out a new robe, but otherwise she left her alone.
Weeks passed, and then, her voice could be heard for the first time, shrieking in triumph, high from lack of use. The basement door was thrown open, and a tide of white smoke burst from it, filling the house and spilling from the windows.
"Nurse, get my gear. I've training to do"
Chapter 11
It was a dark night that Francesca finally left her home. Her white cloak was pulled up to shield her face, hips rattling with the concealed weapons strapped there. She wore her weapon on her back, unafraid of the guards or any other prying eyes who would spy the long, heavy hammer and its wicked looking hook. No one came out at night anymore, all too afraid of The Demon. They would have this night to themselves.
On a gondola she stood, out in the middle of the canal, one in a dozen she had cut she from their ropes to drift out and blanket the water, like lily pads. The wretched stink brought back painful memories of her last encounter. Her stomach twisted as it recalled the water it had swallowed, only to be brought back up for a second time. These unpleasant memories, of humiliation, weakness and defeat, only steeled her further. No more. She would prevail this night, or die, but no longer would she run or hide. Covertly, she patted the pouches slung over her left hip, pulling her cloak around to cover them. In the dark, a lone shadow, she waited for the creature that was surely watching her.
Moments passed as if they were hours, and then, a ripple went through the surface as a gondola lurched, as if something heavy had dropped onto it from a great height. All returned to its stillness, but Francesca could see it, the subtle ripple of light, like gas in the air. Its eyes flashed as it rose, that ominous clicking rattling in her ears. It could have killed her right here, right now. A simple motion, one act of its infernal magic, and the water would swallow her corpse. She knew this, but she was beginning to understand this Demon. It did not simply want to kill her. It was a hunter, a predator... just like her.
"Evening" She spoke evenly, though her voice had come very close to wavering. Her body had locked up at the sound of its voice, but she willed her joints to loosen, to relax. She needed to face it. It clicked and returned her words, as if they were an echo. Hearing this monster greet her in her own voice was not something she could get used to so easily.
Slowly, she removed her cloak and dropped it in the water, using her Hidden Blade to puncture something in each sleeve as she did so. She showed it her belt and carefully unbuckling the bandoleer, her throwing knives clattering as she dropped them at her feet. The Demon tilted its head as it watched her, taking her pick hammer off and dropping it in the boat. She was baring herself, presenting herself to him. She was challenging him. It gave a low, ponderous growl, and then it submitted as well, deactivating its concealment and stripping off its gauntlets, pulling its shoulder mounted device and dropping it.
They faced each other, the Demon completely unaware of what she had just down. The cloak that drifted in the water left behind it a glossy sheen on the surface, which slowly spread, every colour of the rainbow reflected in its curious, oily appearance. Francesca did not look. Her eyes were fixed on the Demon, which bowed its head and began to remove its face with a hiss of expelled air. This was it, she thought. It spread its feet and roared at her, its true face revealed to her.
"Jokes on you, lei Dio ha condannato l'anomalia" She reached to her sides to grab the two bundles of pouches, tossing them out and extending her Blades as she did so, slicing through the rope and bags and scattering them out in front of her. Before they landed, the white powder setting on the water, she bent and grabbed her hammer, then jumped from her gondola to the next, turning in mid jump to fire her Hidden Blades gun. The thunderous crack was quickly followed by a rush of hot air, the oil and powder combing into a sudden, thick smoke screen, walls of flame rising up between the boats.
Lets see it fight what it can't see, she thought.
Woot! The drought is over xD
Where is the next chapter? it's been 3 months!
I'll be working on both my fan fictions some time soon. Very sorry for the wait.
Francesca was an Assassin. The dangers she faced, both personally and by pure association, were some of the greatest on the planet, and very few of them could be understood as easily as a simple testing of combat proficient, let alone bested. It was true, majority of her role was the simple matters, the killing of undesirables, and while her faith in those that made that decision never wavered, she often wondered why these people needed to die. It was never a thought that stayed her hand, but still she wondered.
There was a strangely liberating sense of achievement in what she had done now. Her opponent, a creature she had no hope of overcoming in the ways she was accustomed to, had let out a snarl of frustration, and this sound had been like a loud, punctuated confirmation of her rising sense of achievement. The thoughts had been laid out and stewed one by one ever since she had first crossed paths with this Demon. The fear had hit her, and she had pushed it down, assuring herself it could not be all it seemed. The truth had then come, and she knew that this fiery wrath existed, in all it's entirety, and her fear had been justified. This simple ackownledgement had rendered her emotions a valid caution, rather then a childish fancy.
And then came the most important step on the road that had brough her here. In all the time she had spent recovering, she had asked herself, as if in a loop, why she had been spared. Why had the Demon not killed her? The memory had replayed again and again, and she analyzed every second of it, knowing the answer was right in front of her, and yet it illuded her. Why? She had mentally screamed in frustration, why did it leave her breathing?!
Why would SHE leave IT breathing, she had thought. And there was only one answer. She wouldn't. If she meant to attack it, then she meant to kill it, and if she succeeded in downing an opponent, she would end its life. She was a hunter, and this creature, depite what deep, sulfurous crack in the world it had crawled from, was like her. It had not spared her, anymore then she could have spared it.
It had not seen her.
These thoughts had rushed by her mind, a simple repetition of a thought process that had already been hammered out repeatedly, a comforting chant, steeling her mind, and her feet touched down on the front of a gondola, legs bending with the impact and then pushing hard as the boat rocked to spring board to a new one. She was on her dream again, the white smoke obscuring all from sight, the boats only occuring as pale grey shapes after she had already launched to their memorized positions. This was the realm her mind had constructed to symbolize her weakness, and that dream had ended when she had snuffed out the source of it. This would be no different. This waking nightmare would end, the same way it had in sleep. With a snarl.
The puff of smoke that rose from the water had been followed by a surprised and now furious growl from the Demon, whipping its head about to try and follow the motion of Francesca, but this smoke was clammy and hot, turning his vision into a featureless wall of red. Suddenly, a blueish teal shape exploded into his periphery, and he felt the dull impact of something hard across his temple, suddenly throwing him off balance. His skull was thick, but the hammers blunt end carried enough force to rattle his brain, and she had swung it with surprising speed due to its relatively small size and weight. Three blows came, one after the other, lightning quick, batting at both sides of his head and then comeing in a ducking backswing to crack into his ribs. She had rightly anticipated the return swing, and felt the large arm rush out for where her throat would have been, just as the hammer cracked loudly underneat his exposed chest, gaining a snarl of mingled pain and fury.
Francesca jumped back as quickly as she had appeared, and the now enraged Demon splayed his feet, listening intently for the sounds of her feet, the smacking of water on a wooden bough, trying to anticipate her direction. She came again, landing feather light on the boat behind him and suddenly pain like he had never experienced before exploded through his leg, his cry one of pure, unadultered agony, a sound he had never made before, one he had not thought he could utter. As strong as he was, and as tough as his young body had been, he was not exempt from the rules. His leg was not supposed to bend in certain ways, and she had just put all the force of her landing into one strong strike, the hook on the back of the hammer driven into the side of his right knee, punching right through and wedging it between the much smaller bones that made up the joint. He felt it bend at a dangerous angle, his muscles pulled taut from the irregular motion, and Francesca attempted to tear the weapon out as she hopped out of reach, aiming to cause as much damage as she could. The weapon did not come free, and she spent no more then a half a second on the task, bending in a back step and disappearing into the white air with a soft patter of feet and gentle churning of water.
Clever girl, No Rest thought. His first action should have been to simple launch himself from the canal and up onto a roof somewhere. He likely would have once her second attack had passed, but she had made sure he couldn't. Reaching down to pull the weapon out the way it had come in, he bit down on a wail of unexpected pain, resulting in a very loud rumble in his chest, throat clenching with a strained noise. Tossing the weapon furiously into the canal, he reaching down and blindly started fumbling for his gear, his hand closing over the corner of his chest plate, and then he felt the Assassins foot propel into his back, driving him forward into a stumble that twisted painfully at his mangled knee. He heard the clatter and splash as she ducked down to blindly kick out at the contents of the boat, sending some of his equipment into the water, and no doubt she would try and follow for his legs, sending him into the bubbling stew. A good plan, he admitted, but she was too close, for too long, and even with his injury, he would show her the error she made. He kicked back with his good leg, feeling hard impact, his large, flat foot striking the woman directly in the chest and sending her into the wall of the canal with a thump of impact and a gasp of expelled air. He could not see, but there had been no splash of water, and he had heard scuffling and clanging, and he was willing to bet she was almost as blind as he was in this. She had been lucky to find purchase on that wall, she would be reeling from the impact.
Francesca had known she could not take many hits from the Demon, but she hadn't been quick enough to avoid that strike, and her body screamed at her on her entire left side. Her fingers had found an inch of something in the wall, and she ignored her burning lungs, curling up so she could curl up and push into a scamper along the sheer stone, finding another foothold and rolling over the lip of the wall onto a flat roof. She could not afford another hit.
And then, and entire gondola, moving like it had been only a javaline, speared into the wall with enough force to splinter and flip end over end over the roof, raining woodedn debri and water over her, that thick clinging smoke trailing each piece of water logged wood. The Demon snarled from the smoking miasma and a second gondola came, sideways this time, like it had been whipped by the rope it was trailing. She had to suddenly drop down to flat to avoid being crushed by the boat, which soared over her and broke in half on the roof of the building behind her. And then, a ring of yellow light hummed to life within the smoke, and her eyes widened, body freezing up. Several seconds passed, in which time she tried to betray no sound, not even her breath, hoping, praying, that it was as blinded as she hoped. And then, the disc streaked towards hers. It was so fast, she knew she could not have dodged it in time, if it had been coming straight for her. Whatever infernal magic this Demon had hurled at her, it was as impeded as he was by the warm smoke screen. She rolled out of the way, the disc whizzing past and then arching around, coming for her as she sprinted across the rooftop and jumped for a much lower one. It was following her too well, but she knew it was impeded somehow, seeming to chase the sounds of her scuffing feet.
As she landed in a roll, she felt a hot sting as something like a blade made of burning embers hissed through her shoulder and her nose filled the scent of singed hair. Hissing with pain, she rolled to her feet, just as it circled around and came for her again. Jumping and tucking her legs close to her body, she narrowly avoided losing her toes, the disc carving through the stonework with ease. She couldn't keep this up. She needed to be smart about this. Ducking into a sprint, she jump from the roof and landed on a nearby wooden crane, making quite sure that the Demon could hear her, spitting a harsh swear in Italian that she hoped it could understand. She dropped just in time, a yellow streak splitting the beams easily, the crane topple and crashing into the water.
The disc circled uncertainly, and then returned to the smoke, the loud crashing making it impossible for it to navigate. She had bought herself a few seconds, and realized, to her dismay, that the now churning waters had scattered the gondolas. She did not know where they were now, and even if the smoke held its consistency for another few minutes, they would drift out. It would see her, and as much as she hated to admit it, she didn't think she could beat it. Stepping close to the edge of the building, she looked out over the smoke, hoping to see some indication of where the gondolas had shifted to. Even if she knew, there was every chance he had jumped to another that had come close enough. The simple fact was she could not see him. How ironic. Her own plan had turned agains her. Well wasn't this a poet ending?
Closing her eyes and taking a breath, she cleared her mind, and opened them, the world suddenly taking on a much different tone of colour, grey and dark, the buildings showing up as if in deep shadow. The Eagle Sight. She had never mastered it before, and even now, it was a pale imitation of the skills true power. She tried to pierce the smoke, looking for the tinge of golden light that would betray the Demons place.
No Rest caught the Smartdisc and growled as he thought, the sound low and ponderous, kneeling down carefully to feel for any equipment that had not been sunk. The boats were shifting. He would see again, soon, and as this thought came to him, his fingers closed over the light, strong metal of his mask. His mandibles extended slightly in what could have been the equivelent of a sadistic smirk, cupping it to his face and rising, the display snapping on and laying out lines of gibberish as it always did when he started it. The display was red, much as his vision had been, cycling the vision modes as he did, strapping on his bladed gauntlet as he did and testing it, the wicked blades sliding out easily. He laughed under his breath, extending and retracting in a mockery of his targets own nervous tick. He brought up the golden marker he had always kept on her, and waited for the blinding red haze to begin to fade.
And that was how they had stood, the seconds passing like an eternity, both Francesca and No Rest peering into the white abyss for the hinto of golden light, and as the smoke began to vanish, they primed their blades faster, in tune with their quickening heart beats, shick, click, shick, click, shick, click, until finally, they saw their glowing gold images, staring right back at each other.
Francesca bent her legs and closed her eyes, leaping from the rooftop, just as she had the day her finger had been branded, the Leap of Faith that had proven her devotion to the cause, the same one she had all but forsaken in this selfish, suicidal quest to defeat a force of nature far her superior, to face a creature with the gall and power to defy even God. As the air rushed about her, her eyes flew open, and she extended her Hidden Blades, the gleaming metal flashing, just as she crashed into the heavy body of the Demon.
No Rest went down, her weight forcing his leg to give in, and he fell to the boat with a loud crash, feeling the hot sting of those two blades as the woman all but punched them into his throat, above each collarbone, all the force of her drop behind them. She landed straddling his thick torso, eyes wide with fury and excitement, hair coming from its leather thong, screeching her bloodlust at him. It bled. And if it bled, then she could kill it! He snarled and arched his back, putting his hand on her chest hard enough to shove her back, but she landed in her feet and closed in, like a rabid animal being pulled from the carcas it was feeding on. No Rest had gotten to his feet but was met with a lightning fast series of attacks, her palms hammering at his chest a dozen times, the blades coming from her wrists trailing ribbons of bright green blood that paintered her arms to the elbow, splashing across her cheek. She reared back to slash at his throat, but he backstepped and grabbed her wrist, slinging her with her own force and bringing her down on the boat hard. She coughed but rolled out of the way of the foot that slammed down, both her Hidden Blades jabbing several times at his leg, causing No Rest to wail and dance back onto his bad thing, which collapsed under the weight and he fell, hard, almost falling off of the edge.
Francesca took her chance, leaping onto him in the same way she had so many faceless evils, landing on him as he tried to rise, and pitching him off of the boat. His hips landed on edge, making the gondola lurch and roll, head and chest splashing under the water. She drove her foot into his throat, gripping his good leg in both her arms and jamming her other foot into the boat, her entire body focused on keeping him dunked. No Rest struggled wildly, taking a big mouthful of filthy water, waving his arms for anything to grab onto, kicking his good leg. No matter how strong he was, it meant nothing with this kind of leverage.
"You like that? Huh?!" She cried, straining with the effort to not be thrown by that large green leg, jamming her foot down further into the water to keep his back bent and his throat closed. "Take a good, deep gulp of it you prick! Drink it down! Drink it and just DIE!" She screamed, kicking at his throat, repeating that last furious word with each sharp kick.
And then, she heard the rising hum of his Power Glove. The wall of the canal that they had drifted beside suddenly detonated in a thunderous boom, and all was lost in the rush of water as it was sucked down into the newly made empty space.
Fissure paused the display, and traced a hand over a few holographic images, bringing up the collected data from that area, things no human hacker could have hoped to gain. This Abstergo group had been surprisingly adept for humans, but they could not keep him out. It was there, he knew, watching the assembled artists renditions, paintings and 3D models of the Apple as they dominated every inch of space on the display. It had been somewhere under Venice. And now, Francesca and his disgraced father were heading below. His hand hovered, ready to turn the machine off, and allow the subject some rest and food. He had kept her in this simulation for several hours more then was safe. She must have needed food by now.
He was too close. He resumed the simulation, and ignored the warning readouts, brushing them away. Where was it Father, he thought. Where did you find your empire?
Just finished it, can't wait for the next chapter.
It bled. And if it bled, then she could kill it!
Love it.
Lidia Dallas perched with her limbs braced, stiff and uncomfortable, feet planted into the frame of her cells door, hands pushing up into the roof. The small black vibro-blade she had always kept in her shoe was held in her teeth, eyes narrowed at the ground, listening intently for the approaching thumps of flat feet.
Her eyes were ringed with black, and she didn't know how long the nightmare creature had been here. Her perception of time was jumbled, and she wasn't sure if it had been hours or weeks, but she knew this monster wasn't the same one Francesca had faced. How did she know? Because Francesca was with her even outside of the Animus. Bleed Over was taking place. She told herself this, kept the cold, hard facts in her mind, to ward against the panic that such a condition could bring. To feel the very fibers of your reality unraveling, and being unable to even grasp at them, was a harrowing experience, and even her sharp Colonial Marine mind was finding it hard to adapt.
But this was something she knew, and the pounding of her heart and the quivering of her tested muscles were reassuringly familiar. Even as the walls quickly changed to rough stone and back, the often trained motions and sensations grounded her. She wouldn't let this monster take her again. Not without a fight.
When the door opened, and Fissure stepped in, she dropped down on his back and plunged the knife into his throat. It howled in surprised pain and fury, reaching back for her, but she had quickly dropped into a crouch behind it and jammed it into the back of it's left knee, tearing it out sideways and opening up the ligament, slicing across the second knee as it came out, sleek black blade hissing through the much softer flesh like it was nothing.
Whatever this beast was, it had never f**ked with a Colonial Marine before. She rolled back, barely avoiding a bone crunching donkey kick, and trusting of weight it's ruined knee brought it down onto its shoulder, snarling its rage, rolling to fire a volley of blasts from its wrist mounted gun. The blue darts of light hissed past her as she sprinted and made a tight turn, one slicing through her skin and leaving a deep, smoking wound through her left shoulder. It had narrowly avoided her bone, but the pain was indescribable, like a white hot brand had been swung right through her flesh, like some ridiculously sharp blade left within the coals.
She bit back the scream and forced down the pain. She had to get to the control room. She had to get a weapon, and escape. As she ran along the hallways, her vision would flicker, lines streaking along the walls, replacing them for the briefest moment with naked rock, the lights dying and plunging her steps into unsure darkness. She was in a cave, and then she blinked, and everything shook once, throwing the Weyland-Yutani facility back into life.
Focus! She screamed to herself, dashing her knuckles across her black eyes, clearing them of the pain induced tears and the tendrils of Francesca's claustrophobia. Without even realizing it, her shoes were scuffing up a smooth wall, hands pushing and body lurching, throwing herself sideways to grab the edge of the broken observation window. Francesca's physical ability had come so naturally. She growled through the pain as the glass sliced through her palms, pulling herself up to roll over it and land in the dark room, and right on top of her original watchers corpse, usurped so brutally.
She scrabbled under the control panel, and her fingers closed over the cold metal of the pistol. She had barely had time to register the victory when she heard the charging of the Power Glove, and the rattling of the creatures throat. Fissure leaped up to hover a second before the shattered window, wrist panel glowing red, eyes blazing furiously, and brought his thick encased fist against the metal wall below the window with a resonating boom. The released kinetic energy slammed into the structure and bent the metal inwards, the shockwave of force sending her flying back into the observation panels. It was only through sheer will the gun didn't fly from her hands as the breath was knocked from her lungs, back screaming in protest at the strain. Reaching up, she blindly fired at the black shape coming for her, but it warped, weaving to the side and coming up hard, swatting the gun away, then its vice like fingers enclosed over her throat, tossing her from the window.
The ground hit her hard, rolling to rest against the Animus. She coughed up and tasted blood, one hand wrapped about her midsection, the other straining to push herself up. A million tiny injuries, crippling her with the assembled pain. She didn't need to look up to know Fissure was there, standing over her, impatient and resisting the urge to plunge those long metallic claws down into her. She flashed it a defiant look, all she could muster, and then spat blood onto it's scaled feet.
"Daddy must be so proud of you... getting sliced up by a human. Just like him" She flashed a red toothed smirk up at him, and the small act of defiance may not have seemed like much, but to her, it was as satisfying as any physical wound to hear it suppress the urge to tear her in half.
:o I thought this was so cool!!
Glad your enjoying it ^^ not quite sure if I want to continue it. My chapters have been sporadic, the story is dragging and losing focus, and there's no characterization. It's too much of a slasher.
Im liking it.