Heroes...

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I’m here unwillingly, I had to remind myself. On any other occasion, I’d be somewhere else without these damn heroes giving me all these restrictions. It was just a different day, I guess.

The room was cold and dark. I didn’t get a good look at it when I was thrown in. There was little light. In fact, the room was pitch black and I was sure that the men who had caught us and put us in there were keeping the light out for a reason. It would make sense. That or they were too stupid to provide us with light.

I felt around the ground in the dark until I felt a wall. Using it to stand, I took a breath and closed my eyes. I’m not sure why I closed my eyes – I couldn’t see anything anyways. Nevertheless, I concentrated, trying to sense the others around me without having to tap into their minds.

The world exploded in colour a second later. I could see where everyone was. There was still no light, but I could sense their auras, the multicoloured lights radiating from them. I recognised everyone. The bright red aura was, no doubt, Claire Hamler. She was the woman who dragged me into all this. She was a flier and another hero. I sighed and navigated my way through them. John Blakely was to my right. He was a noble man, although I still didn’t like him much. I realised that I didn’t like many of the heroes.

When I reached the far wall, I felt around, searching for the crack that gave way to the door. I smirked when I found the wooden door. They aren’t very smart, I thought. Wood was clearly not the right material to make cell doors. I took a step back and kicked the door but was disappointed to find it was lined with metal. “Damn it,” I muttered.

“Blanche! I know that’s you. What the hell are you doing?” I looked around to see that the auras were starting to fade. I sighed. It would take me a while to use that power again.

“I’m not sure, Miss Hamler,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Perhaps I’m trying to escape?”
“Well it’s obviously not working.”

“Obviously.” I knelt down to check the damage I had done. The wood had broken away, and I could feel a dent in the cold metal.

“Hey, Chris, let me try.” I heard Blakely stand up and walk towards me. I couldn’t exactly place how he’d be able to try. Super speed wasn’t exactly best used in these situations.

I moved out of the way right before Blakely landed a punch on the door. I heard the wood crack and his fist dent the metal. The sound of the impact echoed in the small room. Blakely swore and tried to make his way back to where he was previously sitting. I heard a knock on the wall and grinned when I realised that it was Blakely hitting his head. “Damn it,” he swore.

“Try to be more careful next time,” I teased.

“Shut up, Blanche.” It was at times like this I wished that I could see him. I would have loved to see him in pain.

There were voices at the door. I sensed Claire tense and Blakely sit up straight. I stayed where I was, quiet and unmoving.

“They’ve stopped trying,” said a voice from outside. I smirked. Good, someone to help us escape.

A man laughed. “I figured as much. They probably gave up after hitting the metal.”
“Typical of hostages,” the first man scoffed. “We only need to keep them in there for a few more days. The ransom date is coming up.”

“Hostages,” I breathed. “That’s just brilliant.”

“So how the hell are we getting out of here?” asked Hamler.

I smirked. “Don’t worry, Miss Hamler. You needn’t do a thing. You did bring me along for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Blanche...” she started, but I was no longer listening. I focused on the people on the other side of the door. A moment later, I was in a hallway with naked light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The hallway itself was narrow and bare and its gray walls only gave way three times -- all to wooden doors. There was a man in front of me. Tall and brooding, I was sure he was in charge. He was clean cut with dark serious eyes and an expensive suit. The man whose mind I was reading was named George Tanner and the man in front of me was Peter Graham, courtesy of Tanner, of course.

I was glad I could see them now. I knew who to control and what they had to do. I retreated from Tanner’s mind. Taking a deep breath and ignoring Hamler and Blakely, I focused on Graham. I had to start with something simple to know I had a hold of him. Mind control was a power I had only learned about recently.

You are going to hit yourself in the head, I thought, trying to send it to him. I heard a thud and smiled when I realised it was Graham. Good. Open the cell door, I sent him. Set us free. There was a sliding sound and the door opened wide. I stood up smirking at Tanner’s and Graham’s shocked faces. Graham looked as if he was confused about what he had just done. Tanner was fuming. There was a blast of air and a blur when Blakely ran past me. I heard him close all the exits and run back behind Tanner.

Hamler was already in the air, hovering behind Graham, who was just regaining his composure. I stood in front of all of them, staring Graham in the eyes, a smile on my face. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my gun. The Glock shone the in the artificial light.

“Hey kid,” started Blakely. “We don’t want to hurt these guys. We just want to bring them in...”

I took no notice. Of course I wanted to hurt them. People hardly ever caught me like they did without paying for it. Just as I was about to pull the trigger, Blakely ran in front of me and took it from my hand. “Damn it, Blakely. What the hell is your problem?” I glared at him, fuming.

“Seventeen-year-olds shouldn’t be playing with guns,” he said simply.

“I don’t play, Blakely. I rather think I know how to use that gun better than you do.”

Blakely narrowed his eyes. I ignored him and continued to stare down Graham. He smiled down on me as if I were a child. I saw Tanner reach into his jacket pocket, smiling as well. I tensed and felt for the knife hidden in the folds of my jacket. Hamler flew a bit higher, now towering high above Graham. Blakely was ready to move. I breathed in when I felt the hilt of my knife. It was in the back pocket. I pulled it out and hid it in my sleeve.

Tanner took out a phone and dialled a single number. Hamler looked to Blakely, confused. I expected the doors to burst open and the small corridor become filled with men with guns. Instead, Blakely reacted. He ran past me when I raised my arm. A second later, the men were gone and the doors were open. Hamler flew after Blakely. I sighed, exasperated, and followed. Halfway down the hall, I saw my gun on the ground. I smiled and picked it up. Blakely’s an ass if he thinks he can keep me away from my weapons, I thought and pocketed both the knife and gun.

I was hit by the heat once I stepped outside. There was an open alley with dark bricks and tarnished doors. The sun was shining brightly and I took a deep breath of the humid summer air. I could smell the car fumes. A typical summer in Los Angeles. Blakely and Hamler were being held by gunpoint when I saw them. Graham had Blakely by the arms and a gun to his head. Hamler was detained by Tanner. She actually looked scared for once. I smiled. “Now now, gentlemen, do we really need to shoot anyone?” I looked past the smug faces. There was a woman standing behind them with blond hair and grey eyes. She looked familiar.

“What’s a boy doing here?” she asked, smiling. “Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous to be out on your own?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Dangerous? Please. This is mild compared to what I do on a regular basis.” It was then that I placed her. “Clara Bellandi?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Bellandi? Where did you get that name from?”

“My mother,” I stated. “Natalia Bellandi. I believe she’s your sister.” She stared at me. Tanner and Graham exchanged glances. I forced myself not to grin. I was about to win this. “I’m right, aren’t I? These men belong to the division my grandfather gave to you when you left Sicily with my mother. She didn’t want anything to do with the Mafia. But my grandfather insisted, and before he died, he gave her all his money. You were stuck inheriting the division in Los Angeles, but none of the money. You were disappointed, weren’t you? And don’t think Mother hasn’t told me anything.”

Clara was shocked. Tanner and Graham were both confused. In the split second it took for Graham to lower his gun, Blakely made his move. He ran around the two men while Hamler flew into the sky. Tanner and Graham were both on the ground before they even realised what had happened.

I looked my aunt in the eyes and scanned her mind. I saw small parts of her life, quick flashbacks of her at a government office, changing her name, working with a tall and brooding man, the images of three men with bullet wounds to the head and two kids – a boy and a girl. “Of course it took me a second to realise who you were. You dyed your hair; you’re wearing contact lenses... And you changed your surname. Clara Sweete? Pray tell, why choose that name?” Clara stood stock still. I smirked. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Your soldiers know. And they’ll be in custody. What do you have to say, my dear aunt?”

“Blanche, stop the monologue.” I looked up to see Hamler.
“What?” I sneered.

“Don’t bother with her. It’s not like we can press charges.”
Blakely walked over. Tanner and Graham were both tied up. “Yeah,” he nodded. “The police are coming. You did a good job, kid.” I shook my head and turned back to Clara. She was gone.

“If you say so,” I muttered. “But I’m done. No more playing hero for a while.” Until then, I thought, I can try to figure who Xander Harle and Lexi Lawrence are.
Last edited by Mochi on Sun Apr 18, 2010 3:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
Vous trouvez l'océan trop clair, trop noir, trop bleu ;
Vous détestez le ciel parce qu'il montre Dieu ;
-Victor Hugo «À ceux qui sont petits»




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I'm still trying to figure things out posting wise... Heheh. But um, this is basically like an introduction to the series I'm writing.
Vous trouvez l'océan trop clair, trop noir, trop bleu ;
Vous détestez le ciel parce qu'il montre Dieu ;
-Victor Hugo «À ceux qui sont petits»




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Let me start off by saying that you're a wonderful writer. I was very delighted while reading this. It had superb grammar, and barely any misspellings. Plus every sentence flowed, and you separated your paragraphs so that they were not too choppy, and not too long. Nice job. :)

Small Points:

She was a flier and another hero.

What does this mean? Did you mean she was a flyer, as in a person who could fly? Because 'flier' typically means something along the lines of: effort. I don't see how that fits in here.

And speaking of the entire hero things, I am a bit confused on that part. They don't seem like hero's at all. Neither side does. I hope you are doing that at some point, and I hope you use that to your advantage. The character who seems to be your main character feels very naive to me, and it seems like all the other characters know much more about everything than your main character.

Blanche
Chris

Speaking of your main character, what is the name of him? You use both of these names. I am not sure which one you mean. If you mean both, you need to specify, otherwise you are confusing your readers.

You needn’t do a thing.

Needn't? When did we switch to shakespearean language?? I wouldn't say this. Especially if it's based in LA. People in LA do not and will never talk like this. I realize these people are some sort of superhuman, but they still should talk like normal human beings. Remember that if you are trying to be super authentic, people in LA seem to talk more stuck-up and like they are the greatest in the world. I realize that's a stereotype, but you get the idea.

Taking a deep breath and ignoring Hamler and Blakely, I focused on Graham.

So, I just wanted to point out that usually when you call a person by their last name, you mean it as a sign or respect that they are bigger than you. Such as when you write an essay about a book and you call the author by their last name. That may not be 100% true, but your character seems to greatly disrespect these people. It would make more sense if he called them by their first name, speaking to them as if they are younger or as old as himself.

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my gun.

What? These are super humans, why do they have a gun? And why didn't they use the gun to escape? And if they were locked up, I seriously doubt the people who were keeping them hostage would be so blind as to lock them up with weapons. Even if it was hidden in a secret compartment of his jacket, it's highly unlikely, and a bit unrealistic.


Characters

I like all of your characters, but if you are trying to make them typical hero's, it's not working. These people that seem to supposed to be the hero's seem more like the people who mess everything up and are taken advantage by the bad guys. They aren't people to look up to, and they aren't really smart.

Just wanted to point out that the person you call 'miss' seems to disappear at the end. Make sure that when you write to keep full track of your characters.

Dialogue

Good. The voices of your characters are clear, and I even got a good laugh out of some of the things said. Your conversations were very entertaining, seemed to be well-thought out, and really opened up your characters more.

Plot

I'm a bit concerned. I have read numerous stories on YWS about superhero's. It's very common, I just hope you have your own version. But, this seems promising. Like I mentioned before, this was such a pleasure to read because of your consistency in good grammar and nice flowing sentences. Now you need to work on the plot. This chapter seemed a bit drawn out, not long, just a few more paragraphs were entered then needed. The first chapter should introduce us to the issues, and you didn't do this here. You don't need to tell us everything, but there should be some hint to what's going on. All I know is that the main character is related to the person who was holding him hostage? I don't know...

I wish you luck. You're a great writer, keep at it!

Questions/comments, PM me.

Classy




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I *liked* this. Placeholding. I'll review soon.




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Mochi:
Yay, a writer who is able to make distinct characters! -jumps for joy-
One nitpick:
He was clean cut, with dark, serious eyes and an expensive suit.


I enjoyed reading this. Your sentences flowed wonderfully, and I really want to read on. I can't believe you're only 13!
-Maddy

*likes*
-If at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you!
-"Careful with that light at the end of the tunnel, it might be another train coming."

This awesome post bought to you by me. :)




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The room was cold and dark.

The room was ‘cold and dark’? Were those the best descriptions you could come up with? Those words are way too generic. Try freezing, chilly, jet black, or something better. You need better descriptions at the start of your story, because when we start reading, we have no idea what’s happening. You need clear, exciting descriptions to capture us quickly into the scene.

I felt around the ground in the dark until I felt a wall.

I felt around blindly until I contacted a wall. There was one too many ‘felts’ in that sentence for me.

Nevertheless, I concentrated, trying to sense the others around me without having to tap into their minds.

I was confused when you said tapping into their minds. Since I didn’t know he was a superhero, I had no idea what you were talking about. Maybe you should say something like ‘I tried to sense where the other hostages were, without wasting any of my precious power.’ Sorry if I’m using bad examples here, but you get what I’m saying.



I liked your dialogue, except for the conversation between Blanche and Clara. It was a little confusing, and it sounded like Blanche was trying to be way too dramatic.


I’m concerned about your main character because he seems a little too perfect. I mean, being able to control AND read minds is a pretty huge power, and I’m worried that he might seem invincible, which will make him less exciting.

I hope I helped, if you have any questions feel free to PM me.
The bad news is we don't have any control.
The good news is we can't make any mistakes.
-Chuck Palahniuk



People find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right.
— Albus Dumbledore