Welcome to Gaia! ::

Good, as you said, work on your editing and report back; I'll red more then.

By the way.
Plenty good to meet you, now post an introduction in the main forum in the appropriate sticky please.

Very much liked how you introduced Tyson in the beginning.
Mysterious and straightforward at the same time.
But other then your editing, I think you have some ideas here.
Will deffinetly come back to read more.

And Welcome Again!

As promised:

Chapter 1- The Surface World
November 5th, 2004
The Senate



Senator Stephen McLane sighed heavily. This whole thing is not going well, he thought. The situation with a serial killer known to the public as the Shadow Killer was getting out of hand. Public anxiety was growing, along with their anger about inaction from the police. But what were they to do? Neither the police nor the FBI had any worthwhile leads whatsoever. Stephen’s reputation as a swift and harsh lawman was disintegrating before his very eyes. If he ever found that wretched murderer, why, he’d strangle the blighter bare-handed.

Stephen sighed again, trying to calm himself down. There had been a recent string of punks trying to trick them into chasing their own tails with false leads. They seemed to be a gang, for their stories were the same, and their leader was rather obvious to him.

A few days prior a young man had turned up at the Senate, claiming to know whom the Shadow Killer was. Stephen was only going through the motions when he agreed to speak to the kid. When he marched into Stephen’s office, it took all the self-control the senator had to keep from rolling his eyes. He was dressed ridiculously, in black jeans and a t-shirt much too large for his skinny frame, big black combat boots, and loads of spike jewelry all over himself. His blond hair was streaked with jet black, and his green eyes had a reddish hue about them. The kid walked with an air of authority and spoke the same way, with a British accent.

“Senator Stephen McLane,” he said. “My name is Ryan Tilman.”

“Hello, Mr. Tilman. Please, have a seat,” the senator replied lazily.

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

“Fair enough. I hear you bring me word of the Shadow Killer.”

“Yes. In fact, I know exactly who he is, where you can find him, and how to take him down.”

“Really? So who is he, where can I find him, and how do I ‘take him down?’”

Ryan smiled. “His name is Tyson Whetlander, he resides in a fortress in Antarctica, and to eliminate him-”

Ryan was cut off by Stephen’s roar of laughter. Forgetting all formalities, the senator was laughing himself silly at Ryan.

“Oho! That’s genuinely original! My boy, I’ve had many a prankster in here, but you get the most points for originality! Antarctica! Really! What am I chasing, a penguin? Ha!”

Ryan’s expression hardened as he watched the senator laugh.

“It’s true. And maybe someday you’ll come to your senses and realize I’m right. Or you may just find yourself the next victim of the Shadow Killer.”

The young man spun on his heel and strode angrily to the door. He stopped just before he opened it.

“If you change your mind, I'll know,” he said, then departed.

By now, after at least a dozen more kids with the same tale, seeds of doubt had planted themselves in Stephen’s mind and were blossoming beautifully. Why does the name he gave me ring a bell? Stephen thought. He knew it from somewhere but couldn’t pinpoint where.

Stephen didn't know exactly how Ryan was supposed to know that Stephen had changed his mind, but nonetheless, Stephen said to the air, "Okay, Mr. Tilman, I'm ready to believe you."

It could have been his imagination, but he thought he heard Ryan's voice say, "I knew you'd come around."

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Thanks for reading. heart
Soy impaciante. sweatdrop

you're a turtle.

OMG, A turtle is telling this. Well, mr. turtle, it rocks. And I mean it This is my kind of book, editing or no. *sits and waits patiently for next chapter*

you, dude, gte a whole PACKAGE of oreos. Or snickerdoodles. Whatever.

>.>
<.<
Hay, check out one of my million books, huh? Totally this kind of thing wink

...Sorta.

Merry Christmas. Just kind of a chapter to illustrate life in the Underground. Not one of my favorites. Also to breifly introduce a few charachters. Something I haven't mentioned is what is referred to as the Rage. In essence, it what makes Tyson an assassin and it's the reason why. It's explained better in a later chapter. Also, the Tzechlimona is teh "Frozen Hell" under the Underground complexes, which is where the name the Underground comes from. It's also explained in a later chapter but it's very important to the Underground.

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Chapter 2- The Underground
November 2nd, 2004
Main Complex



“Hee-yah!”

With a yell, Tyson backflipped off the snowy floor of his personal training arena and smashed some overhead icicles with his foot. He landed gracefully with his back to the two Underground generals observing him, Ryan Tilman and Michael Killarney, who applauded the skill of their King dutifully.

Tyson waved a hand and the icicle shards magically reformed on the roof of the arena for demolition again later on. He strode to where Ryan and Mike were standing and wiped a trace of sweat from his forehead.

“That’s always fun. Great way to relieve stress. I think that’s enough for today, although I want a group session with you two and Velnax, Jakerston, and Chadson later on. Three-on-three scrimmage sound good?”

“Definitely, I’ve been itching to take on Chadson lately,” Mike said. Tyson smiled.

“What about you, Tilman?”

“I’ve been wanting to challenge you actually, Whetlander. If it’s not too much to ask.”

Tyson’s smile only broadened as he replied, “It’s never too much to ask. Getting a little cocky are we? So it’s settled then, tonight at eight. Me, Sarah, and Mike against Ryan, Marcus, and Rick. Could be fun.”

“Could be? Will be,” Mike corrected, grinning devilishly.

“Cut the informalities, we’re within hearing range of the main floor,” Tyson hissed. It was just like any other hierarchy; the King was to be treated with all due respect and formality; however, the five generals were very close with the King, and in private, he permitted them to disregard the pretenses.

“Yes sir,” Ryan responded promptly as they exited the private arena.

Tyson resisted the urge to shove him and smile as they walked. He thought for a moment, then reeled off keep-busy orders to them.

“Killarney, take half your battalion out to the training grounds and give them an hour’s basic session. They’ve been slacking. When that hour is up, take the other half out. Once that’s over, run a few scrimmages and keep training the team that loses 2 out of 3. Send the others back to the barracks. Tilman, track down Jakerston and tell her I want to talk to her in two hours. Then find Chadson and tell him the same thing. After that, take your whole battalion to the parade grounds and give them two hours. Run a few scrimmages as well and put your winning team against Killarney’s. Each of you, inform me of your two most valuable fighters. Then split Velnax’s battalion and do the same thing. When you’re done, it should be roughly 6:00. The generals are meeting with me in my quarters for dinner, then we take on that 3-on-3 match. Go.”

Immediately the two assassins split from their master, Mike heading for the soldier’s barracks, and Ryan for the more refined barracks of the generals. Tyson returned to his own quarters, three flights up the black metal staircase. He had two complete stories to himself on the third and fourth levels. It was like a house built in to the Underground’s main building.

Suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion, Tyson walked to his bedroom on the fourth floor. When he swung the door open, he found his young apprentice and successor, the future Assassin Queen, Keira Lazingholt. The girl was approaching that impatient age of eight, and consequently, she wanted to master the sword arts promptly. However, a full-size blade like the one that belonged to Tyson that he often found her struggling to maneuver was far too large and heavy for her. She was doing just that now; in her hands was one of Tyson’s twin broadswords, the one he called Kerosine, and she was trying to fight thin air with it.

The little assassin-in-training swung the blade to the best of her ability but lost to the laws of physics and was whirled around in a circle. Tyson caught Kerosine’s blade with his bare hands before it sliced him through the stomach.

“Hey there, Keira, I see you found Kerosine again,” he said amiably. Keira blushed brick red and tried to wrench the blade from Tyson’s hands. The Assassin King was much stronger, however, and pulled the sword away from her. He crouched down to her level and ruffled her jet-black hair.

“Keira, I know you’re eager to learn the sword, but your muscles aren’t strong enough yet. If I hadn’t walked in Kerosine may have destroyed something, or even killed you. I forbid you from the sword not because I’m cruel, but because I care for your safety. As soon as you’re strong enough to wield one of my katanas, I’ll teach you how to use those and build from there. It’ll come to pass, you just happened to have the bad fortune of the Rage at four. I was lucky enough to get it when I was 13. I could immediately wield Kerosine. But she’s too big for you still, my dear. Just stick to that wooden one I made for you- what do you call it again? Jolemita. That’s right. That’ll help prepare you for the blade the Tzechlimona gave you. Just stay away from my weapons rack, okay?”

The little girl looked at her feet, defeated. Tyson smiled as the little goodness left in his heart that hadn’t been consumed by the Rage shone through.

“Go find Chadson,” he said to her. “I hear he’s got quite the sweet tooth today. He’s baking cookies and brownies. Tell him from me to give you some.”

Keira shrieked and hugged Tyson before dashing out of the room. Smiling, he sheathed Kerosine and returned the weapon to its rack in the corner. His exhaustion hitting him again head-on, he collapsed on his bed and was soon asleep.

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I'm posting again so soon because I have no life. sweatdrop

I'm in love with this story. heart

Yaay after school boredom. heart

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Chapter 3- The Surface World
November 2nd, 2004
The United States Senate



Ryan Tilman came striding proudly into Stephen’s office, a smirk on his face.

“Couldn’t turn me down, could you?” he said smugly.

Stephen nodded stiffly.

“Right. We’ll go with that. Anyway, you told me a few days ago you knew who the Shadow Killer was. What name did you say again?”

“Tyson Whetlander.”

Why does that sound familiar? Stephen thought. Aloud he said, “Okay. Tyson Whetlander. Age? Nationality? Family? Et cetera?”

“29, Australian, and none that I know of, but he treats his apprentice- yes he has one,” Ryan said in response to the look of horror on Stephen’s face. “like she was his daughter.”

“Great. An apprentice. How old is she? What’s her name?”

“Seven and Keira Lazingholt. Not much to worry about yet. Very ambitious girl, though. Keeps trying to wield one of Tyson’s swords.”

“Swords?”

“Tyson’s a swordsman. Sounds odd in the age of guns but he is. Somehow he’s never been shot, either. I think it has to do with the Rage.”

“The Rage? What are you on about, lad?”

Ryan sighed. This was going to be a long explanation. “Okay, ignore how far-fetched it seems first, because it’s 100% true. The Rage is an innate force that lives dormant inside every human being from birth to death- unless it’s awoken by some external cause that instigates righteous fury. Depending on the degree of the cause, the Rage will either be fully woken or partially woken. Tyson’s is fully woken. Don’t ask me what happened to him because I don’t know. What it does is it takes over part of the brain and makes your reaction to bloodshed much like your reaction to your favorite candy. You enjoy it. And after a while and enough of it, you need it to survive. It also sucks all the humanity out of you after an extended period of time- I’m talking emotions, like happiness, love, kindness, everything excluding hate and anger. Once that happens you become a killing machine. You can’t stop. It’s happened before. The thirst for blood becomes as addictive as a drug. Even when you still have emotions, periods of heightened anger stimulate the Rage and the instinct to kill becomes more powerful. It’s a curse, and a blessing. The more positive side of the Rage is that it increases agility, stamina, strength, and this weird numbness to external pain or feeling. In other words, Tyson can’t feel heat, cold, or someone tapping, punching, or shooting him. The only thing he could feel would be blood loss. So he’s immune to physical pain, unless you keep him fighting so long he loses too much blood. He’s still human, he can die. Also, your recovery speed and inner immune system work better and faster. You gain some sort of magical abilities; from healing to killing and everything in between.”

Stephen looked dumbfounded. “So basically he’s the perfect killing machine?”

“Basically, yes,” Ryan said.

Stephen thought for a moment.

“How do you know all this?”

“Because,” Ryan said, rolling up his left sleeve and presenting a tattoo in bright green ink on his upper arm to Stephen. “I serve him.”

Tattooed there in bright green ink was the symbol of the Underground, two crossed swords with flames in the background, with the words “to the end” written beneath.