Creep- Chapter 1

It could have been a very good party. That fact could not be disputed. All of the aristocrat families in the City had been invited to it, and most of them had shown up. The gentlemen were dressed in their finest suits, the women in their most beautiful dresses, and the enchanted creatures in whatever they felt like wearing. Everyone was very fine and cordial as it began. The couples carried on in activities befitting of a party, dancing across the floor, tittering over the punch bowl, and sneaking off to private areas where they would not be disturbed. All in all, it was turning out to be a very good party.

The party had been going on for an hour when it went wrong, though by no fault of those hosting it. At that time, everyone was happy, either from dancing, alcohol, or backroom lovemaking. And, what was best, they were alone. The aristocrats were enjoying themselves far above the middle and the lower classes, just the way they liked it. It was their party and theirs alone.

So it was a complete surprise when there was the sound of shattering glass from the roof high above. A man in what appeared to be a black trench coat dropped down from a broken skylight. He pin-wheeled his arms out as he descended, trying to control where he fell. He finally touched down on the central punch table. His impact upset the table, breaking it in two and sending glasses and the wine they held flying every which way. The man got to his feet in the wreckage of his landing. Those nearby drew away from him. His face was hidden, wrapped in black bandages like a bad Hollywood mummy. A Thompson sub-machine gun was on his back. He took a few steps away from the broken table and pulled the Thompson off of his back.

“Well, I’m here,” he said. Then he opened fire with a burst from the Thompson. A scattered group close to him fell either instantly dead or well on their way towards that eventuality. He let loose with another burst. Another group fell now, their fine clothes and bodies stained with blood and bullet holes.

“Call me Creep,” the man said, lowering the Thompson. He stared at the partygoers. Some were making their way towards an exit, doing their best to get away from this madman. Some were frozen in place, fear taking hold of them and preventing them from doing anything to save themselves. Others were not as cowardly as the others, and prepared themselves to deal with this man. He noticed it. The humans among the brave reached for their guns, stylized revolvers that were more for show than for actual combat use. The enchanted that chose to fight were better off. Their abilities would serve them as weapons.

The man that had called himself Creep smiled. He raised the Thompson up again, laughing all the while. Those that had purposed themselves to fight him now began to do so. The humans fired at him, but inexperience with their weapons led to wide misses and a few friendly fires. Creep’s laughter taunted their inability to match his marksmanship. He began to fire on them in return, his bullets shredding right through those remained to fight him. The enchanted lunged forward. Werewolves already half wolf, vampires with extended claws and wild eyes, centaurs with thundering hooves, and all other kinds of creatures charged at him. Creep laughed long and loud as they met their ends at his had, mocking their weakness to his bullets. Their immunity to everything but certain wards was no help here. Here in this world they were as mortals, immune only to the wards that once were their only means of destruction.

Creep began to run across the room. To him, the entire world seemed to move in slow motion. He ran at normal speed, but those whom he terrorized were like statues in a garden courtyard, petrified by more than fear. Perhaps it was not that they were petrified, but that he was electrified, given power by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He kept shooting, emptying the magazine into those that were left. When the gun finally clicked empty, Creep slung it back onto his back.

A few opponents that still remained revealed themselves and prepared to attack him again. Creep pulled a couple of pistols out from holsters on his belt. They were Colt 45s, powerful handguns that could do a lot of damage. Creep began to pull the triggers, sending more hot lead into the bodies of those attacking him. He was even deadlier with the pistols. With the Thompson, he had at least been a little inaccurate. With the Colts, he could send every bullet where he wanted them to go. He pulled off headshot after headshot, sending his attackers sprawling to the ground, their limbs splayed in all directions. No one could even get close to him.

Then the doors at the back of the room burst open. Some cops, alerted by the partygoers who had fled, entered the room with guns drawn. They had already heard of how this man wasn’t playing around, so they weren’t going to either.

“Oh, fun,” Creep said with a smile on his face. The cops opened fire on him. Bullets whizzed past him, he could feel their breeze as they went by. He began to return fire, sending his own bullets at them. He managed to bring down one of them. He spun to the side like a broken child’s top and lay on the ground, a mess of dark blue and blood. The others managed to turn over a few tables to shield them from Creep’s bullets. They fired over the tops of them. Creep ran to one side, trying to move around their cover and get a shot at them. They tried to prevent this, filling the air of the room with hot lead. Holes were punched in the walls, tables and chairs were reduced to splinters, and the few unbroken glasses left were reduced to shards of precious crystal.

But Creep could not be brought down. He smiled as he ran and shot back, a demon with bullets instead of hellfire. He felt alive, the blood in his veins seemed to have been replaced with pure adrenaline. He was running on the biggest high of his entire life, and it was the best feeling in the world.

He finally got around to the side of the tables. One of the cops tried to make a mad dash across the room to find another position. Creep hit him in the kneecap first, sending him to the ground. Then he shot him in the head, sending his brains flying across the ballroom floor. Then he turned his attention back to the cops who were still behind the tables. He caught a vampire cop while he was reloading, putting a bullet in his chest and sending his nearly coagulated blood flying in clumps all over his comrades. His partner beside him received a shot in each lung, and fell down gasping for breath that would not come for much longer.

It was at this time that Creep ran out of bullets. The last cop charged at him with a shotgun. Creep dropped one gun and reached into his back pocket for a magazine for his remaining one. The cop fired a shot, but his aim was off in the excitement and all he did was tear up a section of wall. Creep ejected the empty magazine. It hit the floor with a dull click. He slid the full magazine in as the last cop pumped his gun for another shot. Creep cocked his pistol, but the cop was right in front of him.

Without thinking, Creep smacked the shotgun aside. It fired past his head; he could feel the heat from it. The cop lost his hold on it and it clattered across the floor and beneath a table. Creep kicked the cop back. The cop scrambled to his feet, already changing form into a werewolf. He never got the chance to become fully wolf though. Creep emptied his entire magazine into him. Holes were blown all over the werewolf cop’s body. He slumped over, drooling blood over the marble floor.

Creep reloaded his gun. Now more cops burst in. There were more this time, too many for Creep to take on. He picked up his other pistol from where it had fallen and began to run towards one of the tall windows that viewed the night of the City. The cops opened fire on him as he fled. Their shots broke the window, sending glass flying everywhere. Creep held up a hand to shield himself from the shards. Then he took a flying leap through the window. There were three stories to go before the ground.

Creep plummeted through the air, his arms flailing out beside him to try to steady his fall. He hit the pavement on his feet, yet nothing was broken. He had survived the fall, as impossible as such a thing should be for a human. He heard voices above him and looked up. The cops were leaning out of the window, looking down at him in surprise. They had expected to see a crumpled body, crippled by the fall, down in the alley, not Creep still on his feet.

Creep began to run. He heard a loud screech and the rustling of leathery wings behind him. He turned as he ran. What appeared to be a grotesque man with bat wings on his back flew from the window in pursuit of him. So, one of the cops was a gargoyle. That made things all the more fun, at least for Creep. He ran through the alleyways, the gargoyle in close pursuit.

“Stop!” the gargoyle screeched. “Do not run! You will be caught!”

Creep laughed and turned again. He aimed his guns at the gargoyle’s wings and fired. The creature cried out in pain and began to spiral to the ground. Creep watched as it landed on one knee, wounded but still alive. He smiled and holstered his guns. While he would be incredibly satisfied by shooting the cop, it would be even more fun to beat it. He cracked his gloved knuckles.

The gargoyle got to its feet and took a swing at Creep’s head. Its razor sharp talons missed by mere inches. Creep kicked it in the chest. It staggered back. He didn’t let up, taking a swing at its head and connecting with a thud. The gargoyle fell to the ground. Creep stood there as it got back to its feet. He didn’t give it time to try to attack him again. He grabbed it by its shoulder and began to pummel its face. Gloved fists connected with cheeks and nose multiple times, bringing forth spurts of blood like tiny geysers. Creep let go of its shoulder and unleashed a flurry of punches on its body. He was so quick and brutal that there was no hope of a counter attack. Creep landed one last punch on the gargoyle’s chin and it spun to the concrete.

It groaned, reaching out to try to get away. Creep’s attack had left it so wounded that it now had no strength to even escape. He stood over it for a moment, watching it struggle on the pavement. Then he rose up his foot and curb stomped its neck, breaking it and killing the creature. He stood over it, panting with excitement. Then he let out a primal yell of victory. His breath turned to mist in the cold night air. He yelled again, louder this time, so that it seemed the whole city might hear him. He wanted them too. He wanted them to know that he was here, in the shadows, waiting for them.

The sound of sirens and car engines let Creep know that he was still being pursued. He could not lose vehicles on foot, not in the alleys like this. He did not know the City well enough. Nearby he saw a manhole cover and thought of the sewers. They would suit his purpose. He would only have to traverse them long enough to get away from this place. He ran over to the manhole and pulled up its cover. The darkness of the sewers greeted him. He began to climb down into the stygian grotto. Just before he slipped beneath the City, he reached over and dragged the cover back over the manhole, sealing himself in the dank stench of the sewers.

Hi, Conrad. Your work has caught my eye a couple of times and I figured I should start critiquing some of it eventually. So here goes:

Conrad Rice wrote:It could have been a very good party. That fact could not be disputed. All of the aristocrat families in the City had been invited to it, and most of them had shown up. The gentlemen were dressed in their finest suits, the women in their most beautiful dresses, and the enchanted creatures in whatever they felt like wearing. Everyone was very fine and cordial as it began. The couples carried on in activities befitting of a party, dancing across the floor, tittering over the punch bowl, and sneaking off to private areas where they would not be disturbed. All in all, it was turning out to be a very good party.

I hope there's something special about the "City" other than the fact that it's a city, because otherwise the capitalization use is odd.

Interesting use of plain language to open up your story; "very good party", "beautiful dresses", "very fine", "dancing", and such phrases don't strike me with much imagery if any at all, but you could be doing this purposely to set the tone for the rest of the story, so I'll just shut up until I've read the whole thing. Moving on...

The party had been going on for an hour when it went wrong, though by no fault of those hosting it. At that time, everyone was happy, either from dancing, alcohol, or backroom lovemaking. And, what was best, they were alone. The aristocrats were enjoying themselves far above the middle and the lower classes, just the way they liked it. It was their party and theirs alone.

Foreshadowing is good, but in this case you are see-sawing with it too much for comfort; you foreshadow at the beginning of the story, then go to the present, then foreshadow again, then snap back to the present. I would not do this as it looks rather awkward when reading it, almost as if you can't make up your mind whether to tell the story from the viewpoint of one who was there or simply from a historical perspective.

While I'm talking about foreshadowing, I might as well mention that the story sounds very predictable right about now, and it's only been a couple of short paragraphs. What I'm guessing is that something unexpected will happen, causing the nobles to either die horribly or undergo some tragedy that, in a circular fashion, provides revenge for the poorer classes. At this point, I'm thinking a story similar to Masque of Red Death, except with a slightly different spin (class warfare instead of hiding from disease). If I'm wrong about all this, then you are a very good writer and have successfully made me wonder what's really going to happen, which is excellent.

The line about the lower classes seems to have been stuck there at an uncomfortable angle, as if you want to include social commentary and a sociocultural flair to the whole thing but can't find a good place to put it. If I were a noble at a wild party, I wouldn't be thinking to myself "Hahahaha! I'm really sticking it to those poor people outside!". I'd just be...living the moment, and the fact that your aristocrats appear to be thinking about the bigger picture rather than just who they're kissing or dancing with at the moment isn't natural.

So it was a complete surprise when there was the sound of shattering glass from the roof high above. A man in what appeared to be a black trench coat dropped down from a broken skylight. He pin-wheeled his arms out as he descended, trying to control where he fell. He finally touched down on the central punch table. His impact upset the table, breaking it in two and sending glasses and the wine they held flying every which way. The man got to his feet in the wreckage of his landing. Those nearby drew away from him. His face was hidden, wrapped in black bandages like a bad Hollywood mummy. A Thompson sub-machine gun was on his back. He took a few steps away from the broken table and pulled the Thompson off of his back.

I don't like the first line as it reads more of a "textbook" than a story. Saying "it was a complete surprise" just doesn't give us the visceral - well, surprised - feeling that we should be experiencing. There's no imagery, there's no charged language that conveys that.

The rest of the paragraph sorely lacks in imagery as well. For example, "Those nearby drew away from him" is about as basic as you can get. Give us some emotions from them, even if it be spontaneous fear or uncertainty; tell us about the whispering and nervous glances spreading through the audience like wildfire, or, if they were too shocked to move, show us that.

“Well, I’m here,” he said. Then he opened fire with a burst from the Thompson. A scattered group close to him fell either instantly dead or well on their way towards that eventuality. He let loose with another burst. Another group fell now, their fine clothes and bodies stained with blood and bullet holes.

Ack, one good rule of writing is not to attempt a close-up of a death scene unless you are very good at it, and this paragraph desperately needs working before it sounds natural. The second line in this stanza should be reduced to "A scattered group close to him fell, instantly dead or close to it", as what you have right now is almost comically overwrought and overdone. Also, I don't like how you just use "fell" to describe their deaths; I get the picture of trees just crashing to the ground blankly and without any emotion or other movement whatsoever.

“Call me Creep,” the man said, lowering the Thompson. He stared at the partygoers. Some were making their way towards an exit, doing their best to get away from this madman. Some were frozen in place, fear taking hold of them and preventing them from doing anything to save themselves. Others were not as cowardly as the others, and prepared themselves to deal with this man. He noticed it. The humans among the brave reached for their guns, stylized revolvers that were more for show than for actual combat use. The enchanted that chose to fight were better off. Their abilities would serve them as weapons.

"making their way" isn't helping to capture my attention. Anything like "slinking ever so quietly towards the exit, as if the slightest noise would set off a time bomb inside the gunman" would work a lot better. The rest of the paragraph is good, I can't see any criticism there.

The man that had called himself Creep smiled. He raised the Thompson up again, laughing all the while. Those that had purposed themselves to fight him now began to do so. The humans fired at him, but inexperience with their weapons led to wide misses and a few friendly fires. Creep’s laughter taunted their inability to match his marksmanship. He began to fire on them in return, his bullets shredding right through those remained to fight him. The enchanted lunged forward. Werewolves already half wolf, vampires with extended claws and wild eyes, centaurs with thundering hooves, and all other kinds of creatures charged at him. Creep laughed long and loud as they met their ends at his had, mocking their weakness to his bullets. Their immunity to everything but certain wards was no help here. Here in this world they were as mortals, immune only to the wards that once were their only means of destruction.

Change the first sentence to "Creep smiled." The second sentence is contrived and I suggest altering it to one that will help us relate to how he's feeling. For example, "He raised his Thompson again, laughing like a child at a playdate as he looked upon the little toy aristocrats that he was about to knock down".

Actually, most of the language in this paragraph seems pretentious, such as "met their ends at his hand", which saps all possible visualization and rich description you could have used. So use it.

Creep began to run across the room. To him, the entire world seemed to move in slow motion. He ran at normal speed, but those whom he terrorized were like statues in a garden courtyard, petrified by more than fear. Perhaps it was not that they were petrified, but that he was electrified, given power by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He kept shooting, emptying the magazine into those that were left. When the gun finally clicked empty, Creep slung it back onto his back.

Good depth into his personality. I always like when a story drifts from the action for a few moments to talk about how the characters are feeling and motivated, and you have pulled this off well. Just don't keep doing this like a see-saw and it will be perfect.

A few opponents that still remained revealed themselves and prepared to attack him again. Creep pulled a couple of pistols out from holsters on his belt. They were Colt 45s, powerful handguns that could do a lot of damage. Creep began to pull the triggers, sending more hot lead into the bodies of those attacking him. He was even deadlier with the pistols. With the Thompson, he had at least been a little inaccurate. With the Colts, he could send every bullet where he wanted them to go. He pulled off headshot after headshot, sending his attackers sprawling to the ground, their limbs splayed in all directions. No one could even get close to him.

Then the doors at the back of the room burst open. Some cops, alerted by the partygoers who had fled, entered the room with guns drawn. They had already heard of how this man wasn’t playing around, so they weren’t going to either.

It isn't as interesting to hear "revealed themselves and prepared to attack him again" as it would be to hear "shouted angrily to one another and leaped forward in unison, weapons flashing in hand and scowls flashing on their faces". You have a gripping story so far but the void of imagery is keeping it from achieving a higher level.

The second paragraph here reads like bad noir literature. Get rid of the entire last sentence because it just sounds more comical than I think you want it to.

“Oh, fun,” Creep said with a smile on his face. The cops opened fire on him. Bullets whizzed past him, he could feel their breeze as they went by. He began to return fire, sending his own bullets at them. He managed to bring down one of them. He spun to the side like a broken child’s top and lay on the ground, a mess of dark blue and blood. The others managed to turn over a few tables to shield them from Creep’s bullets. They fired over the tops of them. Creep ran to one side, trying to move around their cover and get a shot at them. They tried to prevent this, filling the air of the room with hot lead. Holes were punched in the walls, tables and chairs were reduced to splinters, and the few unbroken glasses left were reduced to shards of precious crystal.

But Creep could not be brought down. He smiled as he ran and shot back, a demon with bullets instead of hellfire. He felt alive, the blood in his veins seemed to have been replaced with pure adrenaline. He was running on the biggest high of his entire life, and it was the best feeling in the world.

Your imagery is stifled again in these paragraphs; replace phrases like "They tried to prevent this, filling the air of the room with hot lead" into something more compact, because right now it looks like you're overcompensating for lack of imagery in some places.

He finally got around to the side of the tables. One of the cops tried to make a mad dash across the room to find another position. Creep hit him in the kneecap first, sending him to the ground. Then he shot him in the head, sending his brains flying across the ballroom floor. Then he turned his attention back to the cops who were still behind the tables. He caught a vampire cop while he was reloading, putting a bullet in his chest and sending his nearly coagulated blood flying in clumps all over his comrades. His partner beside him received a shot in each lung, and fell down gasping for breath that would not come for much longer.

It was at this time that Creep ran out of bullets. The last cop charged at him with a shotgun. Creep dropped one gun and reached into his back pocket for a magazine for his remaining one. The cop fired a shot, but his aim was off in the excitement and all he did was tear up a section of wall. Creep ejected the empty magazine. It hit the floor with a dull click. He slid the full magazine in as the last cop pumped his gun for another shot. Creep cocked his pistol, but the cop was right in front of him.

Without thinking, Creep smacked the shotgun aside. It fired past his head; he could feel the heat from it. The cop lost his hold on it and it clattered across the floor and beneath a table. Creep kicked the cop back. The cop scrambled to his feet, already changing form into a werewolf. He never got the chance to become fully wolf though. Creep emptied his entire magazine into him. Holes were blown all over the werewolf cop’s body. He slumped over, drooling blood over the marble floor.

Woah, the police are monsters? Good twist; I hadn't seen that coming, and it really fits in to the whole realistic-fantasy setting you've got going on here.

Creep reloaded his gun. Now more cops burst in. There were more this time, too many for Creep to take on. He picked up his other pistol from where it had fallen and began to run towards one of the tall windows that viewed the night of the City. The cops opened fire on him as he fled. Their shots broke the window, sending glass flying everywhere. Creep held up a hand to shield himself from the shards. Then he took a flying leap through the window. There were three stories to go before the ground.

Creep plummeted through the air, his arms flailing out beside him to try to steady his fall. He hit the pavement on his feet, yet nothing was broken. He had survived the fall, as impossible as such a thing should be for a human. He heard voices above him and looked up. The cops were leaning out of the window, looking down at him in surprise. They had expected to see a crumpled body, crippled by the fall, down in the alley, not Creep still on his feet.

Creep began to run. He heard a loud screech and the rustling of leathery wings behind him. He turned as he ran. What appeared to be a grotesque man with bat wings on his back flew from the window in pursuit of him. So, one of the cops was a gargoyle. That made things all the more fun, at least for Creep. He ran through the alleyways, the gargoyle in close pursuit.

The beginning of each paragraph in this section is disconcerting - "Creep did this, Creep did that". Individualize these paragraphs, don't make them seem like they've been produced from the same cookie cutter.

Other than that, I appreciate how you take us through every step of Creep's flight away from the cops; it gives the story a microscopic, almost electric feel that wasn't present very much until now. However, you have used "cops" too much in this section; I feel substituting some synonyms in there would be beneficial. Police, guards, officers, etc.

“Stop!” the gargoyle screeched. “Do not run! You will be caught!”

Creep laughed and turned again. He aimed his guns at the gargoyle’s wings and fired. The creature cried out in pain and began to spiral to the ground. Creep watched as it landed on one knee, wounded but still alive. He smiled and holstered his guns. While he would be incredibly satisfied by shooting the cop, it would be even more fun to beat it. He cracked his gloved knuckles.

I like this part; it really shows us what a creep Creep is and sets the suspense, I feel, for the rest of the story.

The gargoyle got to its feet and took a swing at Creep’s head. Its razor sharp talons missed by mere inches. Creep kicked it in the chest. It staggered back. He didn’t let up, taking a swing at its head and connecting with a thud. The gargoyle fell to the ground. Creep stood there as it got back to its feet. He didn’t give it time to try to attack him again. He grabbed it by its shoulder and began to pummel its face. Gloved fists connected with cheeks and nose multiple times, bringing forth spurts of blood like tiny geysers. Creep let go of its shoulder and unleashed a flurry of punches on its body. He was so quick and brutal that there was no hope of a counter attack. Creep landed one last punch on the gargoyle’s chin and it spun to the concrete.

It groaned, reaching out to try to get away. Creep’s attack had left it so wounded that it now had no strength to even escape. He stood over it for a moment, watching it struggle on the pavement. Then he rose up his foot and curb stomped its neck, breaking it and killing the creature. He stood over it, panting with excitement. Then he let out a primal yell of victory. His breath turned to mist in the cold night air. He yelled again, louder this time, so that it seemed the whole city might hear him. He wanted them too. He wanted them to know that he was here, in the shadows, waiting for them.

You're using a mix of colloquial language and uninteresting words here, which aren't working together well at all in my opinion. Instead of just saying "Creep kicked it in the chest. It staggered back", say "His leg swept out in front of him and collided - not without a satisfying snap - with the gargoyle's rocky chest, sending the shocked creature staggering backwards." Imagery, imagery, imagery. That's the only big problem you have with these two paragraphs, and even then, sometimes you do use good visualization techniques. Other than that, the paragraphs seem fine to me.

The sound of sirens and car engines let Creep know that he was still being pursued. He could not lose vehicles on foot, not in the alleys like this. He did not know the City well enough. Nearby he saw a manhole cover and thought of the sewers. They would suit his purpose. He would only have to traverse them long enough to get away from this place. He ran over to the manhole and pulled up its cover. The darkness of the sewers greeted him. He began to climb down into the stygian grotto. Just before he slipped beneath the City, he reached over and dragged the cover back over the manhole, sealing himself in the dank stench of the sewers.

Change the first sentence to something more exciting; "letting him know" again doesn't contain any emotion that I the reader expect out of a story. Perhaps a sentence like "For half of a moment, Creep paused in amusement as he heard the blaring sirens and engines - they still hadn't given up," would work much better. The rest of the stanza sounds choppy, mostly because each sentence starts with "He" and contains the same basic sentence format over and over again, making for a boring paragraph and not altogether a good ending for this chapter.

Overall, this was a good read. An overwhelming amount of my criticism is about the imagery you haven't used, which is a good thing, because that means the content and storyline is solid. I hope to see more chapters coming soon!

Hope that helped.

*Waves*

Nit-Picks

The party had been going on for an hour when it went wrong, though by no fault of those hosting it.

To avoid repeating 'party', I'd suggest starting with 'It'. But then so you don't repeat 'it', I'd suggest 'when things began to go wrong.'

And, what was best, they were alone.

You tell me after, but for right now I am very confused. Who is alone? We're with no one at the moment, so I have no clue.

So it was a complete surprise when there was the sound of shattering glass from the roof high above.

At this point, I forget that something is going to go wrong. You brought me into the aristocrats, so now I feel like I'm tugged back to what you said earlier. Maybe ditch the part about how it had been going on for an hour before something went wrong? And the 'so it was a complete surprise…' doesn't sound like it's a written story – it sounds like you're telling me that… some company's stocks fell or something.

He finally touched down on the central punch table.

'Touched down' sounds way too delicate.

The man got to his feet in the wreckage of his landing. Those nearby drew away from him.

Too many short, choppy sentences in a row. Fix up the last one.

“Well, I’m here,” he said. Then he opened fire with a burst from the Thompson. A scattered group close to him fell either instantly dead or well on their way towards that eventuality. He let loose with another burst. Another group fell now, their fine clothes and bodies stained with blood and bullet holes.

These are real people, si? Right now, they really don't feel like it. It sounds like he's just practicing on dummies or something. Let them have life! Let them scream as they lose it!

“Call me Creep,” the man said, lowering the Thompson. He stared at the partygoers. Some were making their way towards an exit, doing their best to get away from this madman. Some were frozen in place, fear taking hold of them and preventing them from doing anything to save themselves. Others were not as cowardly as the others, and prepared themselves to deal with this man. He noticed it. The humans among the brave reached for their guns, stylized revolvers that were more for show than for actual combat use. The enchanted that chose to fight were better off. Their abilities would serve them as weapons.

Hm… they still feel very disconnected. Maybe try focusing in on specific characters more? Let us see a woman trip over her dress and fall, a man look back and decide not to help her up. Let us see them planning to kill this man. Bring us closer, and remember to use their surroundings as you describe them.

Also, who asked what his name was? That's just an excuse to slip it in. If you do the whole starting with him like I suggest at the end, then you can just call him Creep from the beginning, so it'll all be good.

Creep laughed long and loud as they met their ends at his had,

Do you mean 'hand'?

Creep dropped one gun and reached into his back pocket for a magazine for his remaining one.

I think you meant to get rid of one of those…?

He had survived the fall, as impossible as such a thing should be for a human.

Actually, it is possible, but he has to roll afterwards, and he has to do it perfectly. Like the free runners!

Overall Comments

Wow! I just read like, three pages of a fight scene, and I hardly skimmed at all! Dude. That's awesome.

My main problem? Description.

This guy is fighting! That means he has to notice everything – use that to your advantage. Let him smell the blood, hear the sound of heels running across the ground, see the tiny movements of someone shaking in fear while they try to hide, feel the weight of the guns. All of those tiny little details that will keep us interested and make it feel like we're the ones fighting.

Also, at the beginning, try to let us see the party through his eyes so we know who we're with. I figured we'd be with a party-goer, then got pulled away from them. Let us watch from on the roof like he is. Is the wind blowing? What's the glass feel like under him? All that stuff. Let us see the party, and make it muted, since he's outside – that'll be cool. Besides, at the beginning it's kind of like 'okay, I know what's gonna happen, why are you trying to be sneaky?' If you start with him and let us see the party through his eyes, it'll be much cooler.

Anyways, it's awesome as always, but description, Con, description!

PM me for anything!

~JFW1415

Connie! *glomp*

So, I told you on AIM had a nice wordy review for you, but then due to some bizarre internet mishap, the page reloaded and I lost it.

I'm just going to give you a brief summary of most of the things I said, now, since I don't have it in me to write all of that again! Anyway, I really enjoyed this story, and Creep is just intriguing, since all of actions seemed purposeful, yet there's no hint to what that purpose could be, so now obviously I need to keep reading to find out, as a reader.

I feel like a lot of it was too fast-paced, specifically here:

“Well, I’m here,” he said. Then he opened fire with a burst from the Thompson

That line is very amusing, so I want to linger on it. It would increase the "whoa" factor if there's a pause there and then we can see the reactions of the partygoers. Fear, outrage, all that. When Creep shows up, the party seems screamless and motionless, when I imagine a strange man dropping into a party would be like someone flicking a palace of cards. Once Creep shows up, he takes the story, which is fine, but I do want to see the terror and what's going on as a reaction with the aristocrats, since we started the story with them.

It was a total adrenaline rush, and that's exciting. I guess it's almost sadistic that I want to see more mayhem, but Creep seems like such an interesting and evil character that I want to see the effects of the havoc he brings to the party.

That's most of what my previous review said - phew. Maybe.

~ Clo

Hi, Connie! ^_^

I'll attempt to top Galerius' critique, but I doubt that'll happen.

Grammar and First Impressions

All in all, it was turning out to be a very good party.

The party had been going on for an hour when it went wrong, though by no fault of those hosting it.

That's some pretty fantastic repetition, if I do say so myself! ^_^ However, I don't think other readers would be pleased. Try synonyms like celebration, gathering, or something appropriate.

So it was a complete surprise when there was the sound of shattering glass from the roof high above. A man in what appeared to be a black trench coat dropped down from a broken skylight. He pin-wheeled his arms out as he descended, trying to control where he fell. He finally touched down on the central punch table. His impact upset the table, breaking it in two and sending glasses and the wine they held flying every which way. The man got to his feet in the wreckage of his landing. Those nearby drew away from him. His face was hidden, wrapped in black bandages like a bad Hollywood mummy. A Thompson sub-machine gun was on his back. He took a few steps away from the broken table and pulled the Thompson off of his back.

Basically, I'm seeing this as a James Bond scene, but it goes by so fast that I can't compare the two. Take your time. In fact, it may help a lot more if you spent more time in the first couple paragraphs describing the party. I'm not feeling like the party animal I should be. I'm not seeing women in glittering dresses or men in neat tuxedos [aristocrats, right?]. I'm unsure how to picture this, so this scene just makes it all the more harder to picture.

Underlined: I think the sentence itself sounds fine. The so didn't bother me. What did is that you slurred an action sequence into something just there. Some guy just crashed their party! Give me some reactions, some effects. People gasped, some women screamed, glass pieces flew around the room and cut people--there's a lot you could do. Split this awesome-cool action scene into a few paragraphs and take your time. ^_^

Italicized: I hope you meant he touched it lightly or daintily 'cause that's what it sounds like, as JFW pointed out. XD Otherwise, this is to point out my thought that you rush this scene. Already in the third sentence of this entire sequence, the guy lands on the ground.

Both: These sentences are choppy and jump around like mad. We go from the man to the crowd to the man's appearance. I'm thinking multiple paragraphs sound good, or mention his appearance when the reader finally hears him speak. Glass shards are stuck to his trench coat, his dark hair was messed up, he had a grin planted on his face--you know what to do.

“Well, I’m here,” he said. Then he opened fire [s]with a burst from [/s] with the Thompson. A scattered group close to him fell either instantly dead or well on their way towards that eventuality. He let loose with another burst. Another group fell now, their fine clothes and bodies stained with blood and bullet holes.

Underlined: Ah, don't just stop there! This is an awesome time to throw out his facial expression. Is he holding his arms out and flashing a brilliant smile (like Gilderoy Lockhart from Harry Potter or that one guy from that one movie?), or is he grinning evilly with his gun set and ready in his hands?

Italicized: Gah, this is blood and gore, dude. They must have been screaming bloody murder or running away. Surely after he fell down, the people would be frantically trying to escape. It's just so... paper cut-out right now.

Both: [I fixed the repetition of burst 'cause I didn't like it. Just so you know.] This is just repeating what I said before. Oh, look. People. Oh, look. Dead people.

“Call me Creep,” the man said, lowering the Thompson. He stared at the partygoers. Some were making their way towards an exit, doing their best to get away from this madman. Some were frozen in place, fear taking hold of them and preventing them from doing anything to save themselves. Others were not as cowardly as the others, [no comma] and prepared themselves to deal with this man. He noticed it. The humans among the brave reached for their guns, [dash instead] stylized revolvers that were more for show than for actual combat use. The enchanted that chose to fight were better off. Their abilities would serve them as weapons.

Underlined: 'Cause people naturally stroll along to the front door when a madman crashes their party. Y'know. Everyone does. Who doesn't?

Italicized: First, that three-word sentence doesn't not do anything for me. xD Second, there's the repetition of others that should be attended to.

Both: Ooer! Enchanted? Can't wait to find out more about them. ^^

The man that had called himself Creep smiled. He raised the Thompson up again, laughing all the while. Those that had purposed themselves to fight him now began to do so. The humans fired at him, but inexperience with their weapons led to wide misses and a few friendly fires. Creep’s laughter taunted their inability to match his marksmanship. He began to fire on them in return, his bullets shredding right through those remained to fight him. The enchanted lunged forward. Werewolves already half wolf, vampires with extended claws and wild eyes, centaurs with thundering hooves, and all other kinds of creatures charged at him. Creep laughed long and loud as they met their ends at his had, mocking their weakness to his bullets. Their immunity to everything but certain wards was no help here. Here in this world they were as mortals, immune only to the wards that once were their only means of destruction.

The first sentence is the only one I see needs fixing really. We already know the man is called Creep. You said it in the previous paragraph. In an instance where you would say this would be... paragraphs later? After you describe all sorts of information that could have lost the reader. Right now though, you dun need it. Listen to Galerius. ^_^

Creep began to run across the room. To him, the entire world seemed to move in slow motion. He ran at normal speed, but those whom he terrorized were like statues in a garden courtyard, petrified by more than fear. Perhaps it was not that they were petrified, [no comma] but that he was electrified, given power by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He kept shooting, emptying the magazine into those that were left standing [?]. When the gun finally clicked empty, Creep slung it [s]back[/s] onto his back.

This was awesome.

Then the doors at the back of the room burst open. Some cops, alerted by the partygoers who had fled, entered the room with guns drawn. They had already heard of how this man wasn’t playing around, so they weren’t going to either.

I don't like that last sentence. Listen to Galerius. Again. XD

“Oh, fun,” Creep said with a smile on his face. The cops opened fire on him. Bullets whizzed past him, [semi, period, dash, or ellipse instead] he could feel their breeze as they went by. He began to return fire, sending his own bullets at them. He managed to bring down one of them. He spun to the side like a broken child’s top and lay on the ground, a mess of dark blue and blood. The others managed to turn over a few tables to shield them from Creep’s bullets. They fired over the tops of them. Creep ran to one side, trying to move around their cover and get a shot at them. They tried to prevent this, filling the air of the room with hot lead. Holes were punched in the walls, tables and chairs were reduced to splinters, and the few unbroken glasses left were reduced to shards of precious crystal.

This is an action sequence that could probably be split up into their own healthy paragraphs. So much happens in this paragraph, I got lost in what was happening. And you could describe some of the damage/noises that were happening. What the room looks like now. If any survivors remained in the building. Etc.

Underlined: Both sentences start with he, but they're different he's. It's very confusing.

But Creep could not be brought down. He smiled as he ran and shot back, [dash instead] a demon with bullets instead of hellfire. He felt alive, the blood in his veins seemed to have been replaced with pure adrenaline. He was running on the biggest high of his entire life, and it was the best feeling in the world.

Underlined: You already mentioned this. Get a little more creative. ^^

It was at this time that Creep ran out of bullets. The last cop charged at him with a shotgun. Creep dropped one gun and reached into his back pocket for [s]a magazine for[/s] his remaining [s]one[/s] magazine. The cop fired a shot, but his aim was off in the excitement and all he did was tear up a section of wall. Creep ejected the empty magazine. It hit the floor with a dull click. He slid the full magazine in as the last cop pumped his gun for another shot. Creep cocked his pistol, but the cop was right in front of him.

Is he running while he's replacing the magazine? Or... I'm unsure what's happening. Build on this a bit more. Split it into more paragraphs if need be.

Creep reloaded his gun. Now more cops burst in. There were more this time, too many for Creep to take on. He picked up his other pistol from where it had fallen and began to run towards one of the tall windows that viewed the night of the City. The cops opened fire on him as he fled. Their shots broke the window, sending glass flying everywhere. Creep held up a hand to shield himself from the shards. Then he took a flying leap through the window. There were three stories to go before the ground.

Thank you for giving him a limit! XD He seemed to be Superman for quite a while. I was worried.

Creep plummeted through the air, his arms flailing out beside him to try to steady his fall. He hit the pavement on his feet, yet nothing was broken. He had survived the fall, as impossible as such a thing should be for a human. He heard voices above him and looked up. The cops were leaning out of the window, looking down at him in surprise. They had expected to see a crumpled body, crippled by the fall, down in the alley, not Creep still on his feet.

That last sentence doesn't sound right with the rest of your style. Creep seems to be the main character, so have Creep think that's what the cops were expecting. Minor detail, but possibility?

Creep laughed and turned again. He aimed his guns at the gargoyle’s wings and fired. The creature cried out in pain and began to spiral to the ground. Creep watched as it landed on one knee, wounded but still alive. He smiled and holstered his guns. While he would be incredibly satisfied by shooting the cop, it would be even more fun to beat it. He cracked his gloved knuckles.

Creep.

I thought at first he was shooting while he was running, but it looks like he wasn't? Let's be a little more clear. XD

The gargoyle got to its feet and took a swing at Creep’s head. Its razor sharp talons missed by mere inches. Creep kicked it in the chest. It staggered back. He didn’t let up, taking a swing at its head and connecting with a thud. The gargoyle fell to the ground. Creep stood there as it got back to its feet. He didn’t give it time to try to attack him again. He grabbed it by its shoulder and began to pummel its face. Gloved fists connected with cheeks and nose multiple times, bringing forth spurts of blood like tiny geysers. Creep let go of its shoulder and unleashed a flurry of punches on its body. He was so quick and brutal that there was no hope of a counter attack. Creep landed one last punch on the gargoyle’s chin and it spun to the concrete.

Aww, this is an awesome scene! Split it up into multiple paragraphs. Take your time. I'm just lost in all the he's and his' in this paragraph. Who's beating up who? xD

Man, How Time Flies When You're Having Fun!

You're definitely having a lot of fun here. Take your time. I know it's such a cool part, but you're specifics are so awesome. You can give so much more to give the reader such a unique play-by-play action sequence. If you just rush through it, the reader will be a tad confused at what's happening, especially 'cause there's so many guys right now. xD *had that issue*

What A Creep!

Your main character is... so cool. You did so well with this guy. I think that you could describe his creepiness a lot more, though. There were a couple moments that I was just like... WOAH, INHUMAN! O_O Those are awesome. Now, give me some more facial features and appearance. Does he dress like a creep? Does he have a strange shadow over his features? Give me some really cool specifics that liven up this guy. I really want to know him. Like, you don't even know.

Overall, I'm Thinking...

This is really cool! There are details that you could bring out, but overall, this is very awesome. I can't wait to read more and answer some questions I have. What kind of world is this? Why is City capitalized? Have fantasy creatures always lived with humans? And what's this Creep up to?

Any questions, feel free to contact me!

Keep writing!

Jabber, the One and Only!

It could have been a very good party. That fact could not be disputed. All [s]of[/s] the aristocrat families in the City had been invited to it, and most of them had shown up. The gentlemen were dressed in their finest suits, the women in their most beautiful dresses, and the enchanted creatures in whatever they felt like wearing. Everyone was very fine and cordial as it began. The couples carried on in activities befitting of a party, dancing across the floor, tittering over the punch bowl, and sneaking off to private areas where they would not be disturbed. All in all, it was turning out to be a very good party.

Okay. I'm going to be taking this paragraph at a time to make this seem not so small. Haha. The bolded section is telling us, and that's not good. We can see that everything was fine, so there's no need for that sentence. I like this paragraph. It flows fairly smooth, and it gets a lot of detail in without being boring.

The party had been going on for an hour when it went wrong, though by no fault of those hosting it. At that time, everyone was happy, either from dancing, alcohol, or backroom lovemaking. And, what was best, they were alone. The aristocrats were enjoying themselves far above the middle and the lower classes, just the way they liked it. It was their party and theirs alone.

Okay. Nothing wrong with this section. It's a little tell-y, but not too much to notice. I love love love love love the way that you said, 'and what was best'. It was perfect. So perfect. It couldn't have been done better.

So it was a complete surprise when there was the sound of shattering glass from the roof high above. A man in what appeared to be a black trench coat dropped down from a broken skylight. He pin-wheeled his arms out as he descended, trying to control where he fell. He finally touched down on the central punch table. His impact upset the table, breaking it in two and sending glasses and the wine they held flying every which way. The man got to his feet in the wreckage of his landing. Those nearby drew away from him. His face was hidden, wrapped in black bandages like a bad Hollywood mummy. A Thompson sub-machine gun was on his back. He took a few steps away from the broken table and pulled the Thompson off of his back.

You've said 'table' too close together. Interesting paragraph! I like it. Okay. I'm sick of paragraphs now. I'll just read it. >.< I'm tired.

And lazy.

The man that had called himself Creep smiled.

Eh? No. Just no. That sentence is weirdly worded and could be better off with just 'Creep smiled.'

Creep laughed long and loud as they met their ends at his had, mocking their weakness to his bullets.

Hand, not had.

“Stop!” the gargoyle screeched. “Do not run! You will be caught!”

Haha. This made me laugh. This is really weak and forced. Either say, "Don't run!" or say "Do not run!" Emphasize the word 'not', if you want to keep it like that. And then for sure, make sure you say, "You'll be caught!" You will is too long, especially when they are in a hurry to catch someone. Quick and snappy, that's what you want.

Okay.

It was really well written. I'll give you that. I like the way that you describe things--you certainly have a gift for describing.

I wasn't too hot for the story. I know it looks really cool. It's like one of those movies that you rent from Blockbuster on Friday night, thinking it is going to be the coolest movie you've ever seen. And then you watch it. And you find out it's not.

Sometimes too much action destroys a story. Weird, right? I love action. Love it to death. But this has a little bit too much of it. Jen (JFW1415) drew me this for a critique she gave me, and I think it fits your circumstances perfectly.

This is what a normal story looks like, right?



This is what yours looks like:



Haha. Yeah. I know this is just the first chapter and you're going to get mad and say, "Well, of course it's like that! It's supposed to start off with a bang!"

Boring is Good. Read it. Learn it. Love it.

You're thinking right now, "Dude, you're getting way too into this." I probably am. I just wanted to show you something. I know that it's only the first chapter and everything will even out eventually, but it's worth mentioning now, ja?

-Jared

Wow, those are all great reviews. All the nits have been picked, it seems, so I'm going to keep this general. I really didn't enjoy this. At all.

Style and Content

I love fantasy (and on that note, why isn't this in the Fantasy Forum?). I love violence and action scenes too. So why didn't I love this?

The style of writing is the main problem. It begins in an almost quaintly English tone, aristocrats and fine dining and tittering over punch-bowls; oh and the lovemaking! I say. A style that is, needless to say, quite outdated and at odds with the content of the piece. What it does is remove any sense of immediacy from the story, any sense that this is occurring now, that there is any palpable danger, emotion, or stakes of any kind in the outcome. Which in turn means I am not even slightly interested or concerned or excited by what's occurring.

And I should be.

More to the point, you start off in an omniscient fashion - with the detached description of the party - even then, there's no sense of fun, of actual enjoyment; overall, there's a real lack of visceral description/sensation. After which you switch to Creep's perspective and his maniacal attack. If you began with Creep observing the party, it would go much better, I think. More immediacy, more of a sense of how he feels about the whole situation.

Creep

Holy Invincibility, Batman! We do so love our powerful characters. Problem is, its boring. So very, very boring. I mentioned above the notion of 'danger', or rather, the lack thereof. That, more then anything, is what needs to be injected into this story. You mention a couple of times, 'the adrenaline!' 'the high of his life!' etc - What adrenaline? I feel nothing because the guy is damn well invincible.

Dropping down from the sky, killing everyone; enchanted folk and armed human alike, with seeming ease. I don't buy, not for one instant, that a gathering of vampires and werewolves and other such creatures [the very epitome of predatory creatures] were:

a) taken so completely unawares
b) so shocked as to be unable to do anything. These creature live on instinct! Their reactions are twice as fast as humans and so the notion that they would be gunned down without so much as a scratch on the perp, is stretching it too far I'm afraid and I don't care if the perp in question is God himself. Make it real. Make it hurt. Make it come at a cost.

Added to all this, you really need to listen to everything the others have said to make this as gripping, as dark and action-packed as it can be. Right now, although its written very well, it bores me. Given that this is meant to be really exciting and cool, that is not good. At all.

Luck with it.

Hi Con!

I’m massively tired and you already have like bajillon awesome crits on this, so I’m going to do what I can with a general comment.

Firstly: Favourite line “He spun to the side like a broken child’s top and lay on the ground, a mess of dark blue and blood.”

This line is really the only place you used some good imagery. The use of colour and language is singular here, though. In the rest of your story you stick to minimal imagery which would be okay except your narrative demands scene and setting and action.

When people mention that they can’t get into a narrative, despite it being interesting, what you can usually find is that the problem is in the imagery and description. You have basic description right now, “beautiful dresses” and all that. But I think you could take it up a notch. Have some fun with it. Action scenes need to be full of suspense and thrill, you’ll get more of this by concentrating on specifics. If you have a crowd sprinting to the doors, concentrate on one persons’ struggle in that crowd. What is the singular doing, how are they acting as they should? This allows your reader to pinpoint a starting position.

I think that you introduce too much too quickly and at the same time have this lagging feeling. By this I mean the introduction of Creep is good, it’s at a good pace, until all of a sudden there are creatures everywhere – and you try hard to establish a clear distinction between the types of individuals there but it merely accentuates the fact that they feel completely out of place.

While this introduction and progression is, in theory, on a good time scale, I found myself slowed down by everything. It felt like the story was a lot longer than it is because it felt so slow to read. What will help with this is the inclusion of imagery and by spreading the revelation type events so that we’re not bombarded with all of it.

Those are what I would say my main issues are. I think that you’ll do fine when you edit this, though. There’s a good base here and I think you’ll go great with it.

*Hearts* Le Penguin.

Conrad -

I'm not going to be giving a line by line critique or even much of a stylistic critique because you've had a lot of well-thought out and well-placed criticism already. Everything that I would have said, has been said. And more.

So. While I was reading this, I was thinking "wow. This is exactly the kind of genre I was writing about a year or two ago." Lots of fighting, guns, blood. Good testosterone fuel. I thought that Creep's entrance was very well executed. The smoothly transitioned suddenness really adds to the tension and smacks of sleek professionalism. So great job there.

But from then on, you had me either bored or overwhelmed. These kinds of action scenes are so, so, so delicate and difficult to execute, mainly because you need to breed character thoughts and emotions into the sixty mile an hour flash flood of actual plotline. Your attempts at this were short dialogue snippets, which (exepting Creep's opening "Well. I'm here"), were contrived and weighed the story down.

I also think you should consider changing the opening two paragraphs. Too much telling for my taste.

Things felt like a sophisticated Halo killing spree. And on the whole, I think that you dragged things out a little too long and I especially felt things sagging when you had Creep fight with the gargoyle. It reminded me a little of a scene in the first Indiana Jones where this big guy dressed in black with a massive scimitar stands in front of Indie and expects him to fight fair -- meaning, fight with his fists or a sword or his whip. Instead, Indie pulls out his gun and drops him then and there. This is exactly what you didn't do. You decided to go the long, he-man way about it. I would consider cutting out that part entirely, or just having the Creep pop him and make his getaway.

“Call me Creep,” the man said, lowering the Thompson. He stared at the partygoers. Some were making their way towards an exit, doing their best to get away from this madman. Some were frozen in place, fear taking hold of them and preventing them from doing anything to save themselves. Others were not as cowardly as the others, and prepared themselves to deal with this man. He noticed it. The humans among the brave reached for their guns, stylized revolvers that were more for show than for actual combat use. The enchanted that chose to fight were better off. Their abilities would serve them as weapons.

I did not like this paragraph. So, you expect me to believe that for ten-twenty seconds Creep was standing there staring at people? Also, the word choice here was weak. Wouldn't everyone be screaming and yelling? Wouldn't there be mass pandemonium? Stick us with some stimulating words, my friend. And don't make things so slow-motion. This is the kind paragraph that the whole story hinges on because it falls in that fine-line twilight of opening and middle.

However, despite all that criticism, this wasn't all that bad. It was entertaining, it really was. I think it's just that we have these high expectations for you, Connie, and so we're pushing you as hard as we know how. So don't loose heart. Besides, I hear you've got a pretty fantastic third chapter.

-Kylan