Short Story Time

[Doormaster]

Cool, thanks. I thought I might have reused some words too much, but it's hard to tell with your own work. I'll probably start re-working it after I make a dent in my school projects

[Defenestrator2.0]

Meanwhile, at Valve

The entire facility is amok with chittering men in gray jumpsuits relaying papers to across the depressingly cold room, several violently crashing into one another as large burly men in suspenders and no shirts tote crates from one end of the room to another. A frail man with a clear lack of self-worth or the ability to function beyond his occupation scuttles up to the mountain of superiority that is Gabe Newell before saluting.>

Underling 86: Sir! The citizens of the Steam forums grow weary of waiting! They desire an update on Team Fortress 2 now, or there will surely be a riot! Shall we finally release the update?

Gabe: YOU FOOL, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?

<Gabe thrusts an eighth of his body mass forward, tearing a chunk of the room asunder and killing several individuals.>

Gabe: BY MAKING THEM WAIT UNTIL THE VERY LATEST OF THEIR PATHETIC NIGHT, WE RECEIVE MORE WEBSITE TRAFFIC! AND MORE TRAFFIC MEANS MORE POSITIVE ATTENTION FROM THE PRESS AND FROM OUR FANS! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF PROPER VIDEO GAME MARKETING!

<The soundwaves from Gabe's voice cause the entire building to shudder.>

Underling 86: I apologize, sir.

Gabe: IT IS TOO LATE FOR APOLOGIES NOW, PEON! YOU MADE A GRAVE ERROR SPEAKING TO THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE GABE THIS WAY. GUARDS, SEND THIS MAN TO THE SAUSAGE GRINDER! HE SHALL BE MY SIXTH LUNCH OF THE NEXT MORROW!

Underling 86: No...NOOOOOO!

<The poor man is toted away by several giant creatures with blood red skin and horns, presumably to be tossed away into the pit of eternal suffering and barbeque sauce.>

Gabe: ROBIN! WHERE IS ROBIN? I NEED... ROBIN!

<Robin Walker goose-steps to Gabe's feet before saluting.>

Robin: Raus!

<Gabe gurgles before speaking.>

Gabe: PUSH EPISODE THREE BACK ANOTHER MONTH! SOME IDIOT ON THE STEAM FORUMS IS MAKING FUN OF MY WEIGHT AGAIN!

Robin: Yes, mein liege. I shall eliminate him und dast Episode Zwee vill remain on hold. Ein gast, und what shall we do vith zein interloper, shmel?

<Close-up on Gabe's handsomely sinister eyes hidden amongst his face folds.>

Gabe: KILL HIM. LEAVE NO TRACE THAT HE EVER EXISTED.

<Robin salutes once more before mounting his sled pulled by abused orphan children, whipping them into motion as he takes off into the night sky cackling maniacally, also tipping over a bus of old people.>

ripped from here

In other terms...

[Spoony]

That's another week on episode 3, def.

[Squigzog]

DAMMIT DEF!

[Mr. Mander]

INCOMING

So I enjoy building worlds far more than I like doing anything with them. This is a creation story for a world in a novel I am writing.
_ _ _ _

In the beginning, existence was very big and very black. It was very black because the only thing in it was Darkness, and it was big because the Darkness was big. The Darkness, was so big, in fact, that one day it became aware of its own bigness.

“I am very big,” the Darkness said, inventing language in that moment. “I am so big I don’t even know how big I am.”

“I will move around,” The Darkness said, inventing motion. “And then I will know how big I am.”

And then the Darkness moved. And it moved very far, but not very far at all, because distance did not exist yet. And after a very long time (but not very long at all, of course), it decided that it was tired of moving so far.

“I will make a way,” The Darkness said, “To move without moving.”

But that did not work, because obviously moving without moving is a silly idea and the Darkness was silly for having it. The Darkness then decided that he would just invent a way to sense where he was, which was a far more sensible idea. So the Darkness invented magic, and then invented a spell that would let him see where he was.

“Oh,” The Darkness said, “I appear to be everywhere.”

And this made the Darkness pop flyin', because being everywhere is a very pop flyin' thing. It made him so pop flyin' that he decided to be everywhere again. So he cast his spell to see himself everywhere, and this time he made a discovery.

“There is a spot,” The Darkness said, “Where I am not.”

And then the Darkness moved to that spot, and he found a thing which was not him. It was very bright and very not the Darkness. He said hello to the thing that was not him.

“Hello,” the Not-Darkness said back. “You are very big.”

“I know I am very big,” The Darkness said in reply. “I am so big I am everywhere, except where you are.”

“Well I am sorry, then,” Not-Darkness said. “I must have ruined your mood by making you be not everywhere.”

“It’s okay,” The Darkness replied. “I do not mind not being everywhere.”

The Not-Darkness told the Darkness that it was called Light, and then Light and Darkness became the best of friends. Light and Darkness moved around the everywhere together, talking about how big the Darkness was. And one day the friends found something that was very curious.

“It is not us,” Light said, and that was true. “So what is it?”

The thing that they had found was very small and very brown. It was also very much not like them. Light and Darkness were very big energy-things, and this thing that wasn’t them was very small and had no energy of its own. When Dark and Light spoke to it, it did not talk back. This made them very sad, because they wanted to have a new friend.

“I think,” Light said, “That we should name it. Because when I told you my name we became best friends, and if we name this thing, it can tell us its name and become our best friend.”

“We should name it Not,” Darkness said, “Because it is what we are not.”

And they agreed on that name, but it did not make Not wake up and talk to them, and they were sad. They decided to watch Not until it woke up, each of them watching half of not. To keep from getting bored, they played a game where they both chased the other. And that was how time and distance were invented, by the spinning of Darkness and Light.

And far below on Not, the game of Darkness and Light was making things happen. The magic that Darkness had invented was changing Not. Not became part green and part blue, and small things which were not like anything Darkness had seen before began to grow. Whenever Darkness tried to talk to the small things they ran or fell down, and that made him very sad.

One day a small thing was looking at Light, and eventually said something to it.

“You are very big.”

“I am very big,” Light said, pop flyin' to have someone to talk to. “But my best friend Darkness is much bigger.”

“I see Darkness a lot,” The small thing said. It flapped its wings in the air, for the small thing was a bird. “I like you better. It is easy to fly when it is bright and the ground is easy to see.”

“Thank you,” said Light. “I am glad I can make it easy for you to fly, little bird.”

And then Light ran away, because Darkness was catching up to her in their game of chase. But the next time Light ran away from Darkness, she stopped to talk to the bird again.

“Hello again Light,” The bird said happily. “You are looking very big today.”

And Light and the Bird talked for a very long time, and they said many things to each other. Eventually Darkness caught up to Light, but she did not mind because talking to the bird made her so pop flyin'.

“Hello Darkness,” Light said to her friend. “This is a bird. He is my new friend.”

“Hello Darkness,” The bird said. “You are very big.”

“Hello Bird. Are you my friend too?”

“If you are a friend of Light, then you are my friend,” Bird said. “But I cannot say I care for how black you make the ground.”

“Oh dear,” Darkness said. “I do not want to make my friends unhappy.”

Light had a very smart idea then. She gave the Bird the power to make its own light, so it could see where it was going even in darkness, and the other birds could see it and be guided by it. And that was the birth of the Phoenix, who would become especially important later.

Light made another friend while it ran around the world, a Tiger who liked to sit in the grass. And one day the tiger complained that there were too many rocks on Not, and that the rocks made his paws hurt. So Light made Tiger able to grow plants wherever it wanted, which was good for lots of things that lived on Not.

The Darkness was also making friends. It made friends with a snake who was getting very hot during the day, so Darkness made the Snake able to live in the cold water. He also made the snake very big because he liked things to be big like him. He also made friends with a beast in the mountains, who also wanted to be big. But the Darkness made a mistake and made the beast too big, and it became even bigger than the mountains, and eventually became so big you could see it from high above Not. The beast was called the Mountain Lord after it grew so big.

And the many friends the Darkness and the Light had made were pop flyin' with each other. The six of them became very good friends and they talked about many things. They talked so much that they did not even notice when Man appeared on Not. Only Phoenix, who flew over the land, saw the two-legged newcomers. He was pop flyin' to see them on Not, for they looked like very smart creatures.

But the Humans were not pop flyin' on Not. Living was very hard for them, and Darkness and Light found they could not do anything to help, because Men were very different from the other things on Not, and Darkness and Light did not know how they worked. But the Phoenix knew how they worked, because he saw many things while he flew.

“I am going to help the Humans,” The Phoenix said one day.

Noble of you,” said the Snake. The Snake had become very smart in the oceans, and it knew many things the Phoenix did not. “But I am afraid it will not work, Phoenix. You do not have enough power of your own to help the Humans.”

“Then I will give it away,” the Phoenix said. “If I give the power I have to a few Men, those men will be able to help the other Men.”

“Smart.” Mountain Lord rumbled. He was very far away, because his voice was so loud he could be heard from miles away.

“Then I will do it,” Phoenix decided. “I will help Man the same way Light helped me.”

Phoenix flew high into the sky of Not, where every man could see him. Phoenix then gave the men a gift of his power, bestowing Magic on the world of man. Those who received Phoenix’s power became the first mages, and they made the world a much better place for Man, and Man thrived on Not and lived happily.

But it was not very pop flyin' for others. Phoenix had given away so much of his magic that he had become a normal bird again, and normal birds do not live very long at all. Phoenix, who was now Bird again, plummeted to the ground, landing on a soft blanket that Tiger made for him.

“Did it work?” Bird whispered. Time had taken the song out of Bird’s voice.

“It worked very well,” Darkness said, proud of his friend. “You should be very pop flyin'.”

“I am very pop flyin'…”

And then Bird died.

It was very sad for Bird’s friends. They missed him terribly much, and everything was very sad without him. Tiger stopped growing grass, Snake stopped swimming, and if Mountain Lord could have stopped being big he would have. Darkness and Light still chased each other, but they were very sad while they did.

But when the Friends stopped doing their work, man was not very pop flyin'. Plants would not grow, so they had no food. And without the Snake’s swimming the water did not move, so all the rivers dried up. Nothing really happened because of Mountain Lord, and he was somewhat put off by that.

So one day all the animals that Darkness and Light had befriended came together, and they promised that they would not let Man suffer, because Bird had not let man suffer. Snake started swimming again, and Tiger grew, and Mountain Lord was disappointed because he could not help.

Snake and Tiger decided that they would help Man personally as well. Snake would take care of the Men on the islands, and Tiger took care of the Men on the grassy plain. And once again, Mountain Lord could not do anything, and he was very sad.

After a long while Man began to take up much more land than they had, which was a very big problem. It was such a big problem that only the biggest thing on Not could solve it.

“I know what to do,” Mountain Lord grumbled. “Since I am very good at doing nothing…Nothing is exactly what I will do.”

Mountain Lord laid down in the wide ocean and fell asleep. After a long time mud began to pile up on his back, and the mud eventually grew so thick that Mountain Lord was covered by it, and Mountain Lord became a new continent. Men from Snake’s islands and from Tiger’s plains came to live on Mountain Lord’s back, and they had more land than they ever needed.

There was so much extra room that Men began to fight over it. This made the two Friends that were left very angry, and they stopped the fighting. To stop the fighting, they divided the land on Mountain Lord’s back into 9 parts, and gave each part a King who owned it. The fighting stopped, and all were pop flyin' again. To make sure that the Kings never fought, the Friends made Judges, special people who could make the kings stop fighting. Judges only showed up when kings fought, which was not very often.

And then, for a very long time, Not was a pop flyin' place. Darkness and Light chased each other through the sky, and Snake and Tiger watched over their lands. Mountain Lord slumbered with the Kings on his back, and the Kings made sure not to fight. And at the very top of the tallest mountain on Mountain Lord’s back, Bird’s body was in a special place. A place that was very big.

[boq]

Please excuse this crap, I hate to burden people here with it, just felt like posting it. (any glaring grammatical errors are solely based on style)

The window offered little light to his slowly diminishing soul’s luster. It hurt him. His ears ached from the constant slamming and thrashing. He didn’t understand it, how could he? His family was slowly growing apart. A mirror with a single crack will eventually reveal it’s spider web of flaws, he thought to himself. This was that moment. Everything was unraveling. It was sickening to her the words being tossed around like they held absolutely no meaning. The simple idea that “fucking”, “shit”, and “daisies” carried no weight insulted him, and he couldn’t stand it. He didn’t use words like that, how could he? The power they held was too much, they could crush a person. They were crushing him. A six ton weight slowing pushing his legs down, splintering his bones, the sound of his body breaking causing a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Blame was being tossed around like unwanted trash, baggage from years past. He didn’t want it, why would he? Trash that reeked of self-loathing and repressed emotion, his gag reflex couldn’t take it. Tears began to roll, his vision became cloudy. His throat was taut with fear and sadness. It hurt and made it difficult to breathe. Strange though it seems, that lack of breath in turn caused a lack of oxygen creating a euphoria, if not for just a moment. But like all good things, it was over almost as soon as it began, a spell broken by the yelling that plagued his life before. The trash began to pile up, again. It was a landfill in the making. It seemed that it always ended up on his doorstep, weighing down his meek shoulders. He could hear it from the other room, If you cared why is he sitting there in his room in front of the computer? He didn’t like being dragged into these things. It wasn’t his fault. Why should he become fodder? But somehow he became a tool. A tool for hate and a weapon meant to damage the reasoning of another. He didn’t want to be used in such a way, who would want to? The words continued to fly over his head, bombs dropped on his feeble shelter he called a psyche. Why would they care? He’s a resilient boy, it’ll bounce right off of him. Sadly, the kindergarten chants of yesteryear did little when you’ve grown up. He wasn’t rubber. He was flesh. He had feelings that words could rip to shreds. Tiny, meaningless shreds. He was tired of it all. He thought of so much he could be doing instead of listening to this bickering in the kitchen, in the den, in the living room, in the hallway. It surrounded and engulfed every fiber of his being and he was sick of it. He didn’t know what to do next. The music he so assuredly clung to did little to soften the verbal punches that were swiftly slamming his head against a wall. A hole was going to develop in his brain, he was sure of it. It would eventually fill itself with unwanted garbage. Oh please, someone take this from me, the tears burning his skin, a poison that would slowly corrode his skin. Nothing would drown out the sounds, This shit is your fault! Fuck this house! Fuck what you think! Each word was an arrow piercing him, each in a part he held dearest. This always happened, it will always happen. It won’t change, why would it? It was a cycle. It was disgusting cycle, one that he knew all to well. Someone would come home. Someone would be fine for a day, maybe a week if luck was with him. But then, the fuse would be lit. Someone would say something, someone would take it the wrong way, someone would get angry, and he would be forced to sit in his room and witness, not with his eyes but with his ears. An audio assault, worse than that of a sonic boom. He couldn’t stand it. Someone had ruined Christmas. Someone had ruined Thanksgiving. Someone had ruined his quiet life. But he couldn’t hate that someone. He knew he was supposed, but how could he? Someone had called your mother a whore. Someone had thrown around gut-wrenching accusations. Someone had planted the seeds of doubt. How could I trust I anyone, if what that someone had said was true. His stomach was rolling at the thoughts racing through his head. The world was not what it appeared and he wished it would be, but why would it be? He turned to the computer, his escape. His lifeline. They don’t yell, they don’t judge. He began to type, the words pouring from his fingers, tears in the form of words staining the page with what he felt. The blot of ink was small, but slowly expanded, eventually beginning to truly convey what he wanted to be told. His ideas, once wheels rolling in sporadic motion, began to align in such a way that would be understood. No longer was his gut rolling, but instead his fingers moving in fluid motion in time with the beat of his conscience. His own beat. No longer would he take what he heard as fact. No longer would the verbal warfare affect him as it had before. No longer would his poisonous tears stain his bed sheets, his skin, his clothing. It was done. It wasn’t perfect. No one would really understand it, but his inkling that writing it out would soothe the inflammation of his emotions proved correct. He was relieved. The six tons were lifted, and his shattered bones began the painful process of healing.

[The Bouncer]

Paragraphs.

Use them.

[boq]

Didn't feel a need too.

It was one continuous thought so it was one continuous paragraph.


edit; I understand what you mean, it is a huge wall of text, but that is just how it happened. I just copypasted from a text document, where it wasn't such an intense block of words.

[Doormaster]

EDIT: Herp derp forgot to mention this is for the thing Mander wrote. Sorry it took so long; been kinda busy with other stuff. Hope this helps some

Is the style supposed to be sort of childlike? If not, that's not meant to be insulting.

“ who would become especially important later.” Maybe shouldn’t state it so plainly

“ He was very far away, because his voice was so loud he could be heard from miles away.” Doesn’t really make sense

“ the Friends made Judges, special people who could make the kings stop fighting.” How?

What kind of story do you have set in the world?

[Mr. Mander]

Is the style supposed to be sort of childlike?

Yes.

I kind of imagined it as an adult explaining the world to a very small child, so he glossed over the more gritty details like the Judges (Their job is to kill kings).

What kind of story do you have set in the world?

Kind of an Arthurian legend type story. Noble people do noble things in a fantasy setting.

And Wizards are actually important again. Wizards have been seriously mistreated in recent years.

[Doormaster]

Is the style supposed to be sort of childlike?

Yes.

I kind of imagined it as an adult explaining the world to a very small child, so he glossed over the more gritty details like the Judges (Their job is to kill kings).

You might want to make that more clear in the beginning then

[Mr. Mander]

Whoops here's another Robot story.

I desperately request feedback on this because there is a chance for me to win $250 from it AND I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO HAVE THAT.

Also I guess it could be construed as a backstory for Trainwreck if you wanted it to. Whatever floats your boat.

----------

The giant machine strode through the forest without a care. Its massive size pushed trees out of the way and crushed them underfoot. Hundreds of birds were fleeing his unintended wave of destruction.

The Robot’s face was blank, except for a pair of eyes. Its body was plated in steel and copper plates. Gears could be heard churning as it walked.

The machine sat down by a lake. It had decided to stop walking for a while. Nearby there was a wooden dock.

“Hello,” a fisherman said, unperturbed by the house-sized machine that had sat down feet away.

“Hello,” The machine replied. It dipped it’s mechanical feet into the lake.

“You broke a lot of trees back there.”

“I did. Breaking things is what I do.” The Robot pounded his metal knuckles into his palm for emphasis. It was not angry or hateful when it spoke. It was content with the fact that it broke things.

“Why do you break things?”

“Because it is what I am built to do,” The Robot said contentedly. “And if I didn’t do what I was built to do then I wouldn’t be a very good robot.”

The Fisherman nodded. The Robot flexed his hands, as if he was breaking an imaginary tree.

“So what do you break?”

“Things that need breaking. Those trees were in my way, so I broke them.”

“But what if a house was in your way?”

“I don’t break houses,” The Robot said. “People live in those.”

“So you don’t break people either?”

“Only if somebody tells me to,” The Robot said.

“Has someone ever told you to?” The Fisherman couldn’t help but ask.

“No. But part of my brain says that I could if someone asked.”

“Must be nice to be a robot,” The Fisherman said. “Your brain tells you exactly what you can and can’t do. Makes life real simple.”

“No, not really,” The Robot said. “I can do things my brain doesn’t tell me to do.”

The Robot paused and stared at the fisherman.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Go ahead.”

The Robot put a hand by where his mouth would be, if he had one. He lowered his mechanical voice to a whisper.

“I didn’t have to break those trees. I just don’t like them.”

The fisherman chuckled silently.

“And why don’t you like trees?”

“It’s not trees I don’t like…I think its forests. When I see a tree by itself I’m just fine, but forests make me so mad!”

The Fisherman cast his line out again. The Robot watched the orange bobber fly through the air.

“So where did you come from?”

“I don’t know,” The Robot said. “I just remember being in a forest, and that I was supposed to break things, but also that there are things I’m not supposed to break.”

“What are the things you aren’t supposed to break?”

The Robot held up his hands and started counting off on his fingers. He dropped a finger each time he said a word.

“Houses, Buildings, Cars, Cliffs, Promises-“

“What kind of fool programs a robot not to break promises?”

“I-I don’t know. It is just a thing I am not supposed to break.” The Robot’s voice was laden with synthesized guilt.

“…Have you broken a promise?”

“Yes.” The robot looked down at its reflection in the lake.

“What promise did you break?”

“I don’t know…I can’t remember making the promise or who I made it with, just that I broke it.”

“Feh. You’re a stupid robot, you know that?”

“I’m just meant to break things,” The Robot said sadly. “I’m not meant to be smart.”

“Well, you should be. Ain’t no use for a stupid robot.”

“I don’t need to be smart,” The Robot grunted. “I can break things just fine.”

“You’ve got a computer for a brain, idiot. If you aren’t smart then you’re a useless robot.”

Something buzzed in the Fisherman’s ear. His tone changed.

“Well, you might as well stay a while,” The Fisherman said kindly. His kindness seemed forced. “Stick around, don’t move.”

The Robot was staring at its hand unblinkingly. The Fisherman watched it nervously, hoping it wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t get paid if it left.

“I don’t like you,” The Robot said suddenly. The Fisherman broke into a cold sweat.

“W-Why?”

“You ask too many questions. And then you’re mean, and then you become nice once the people in your ear talk.”

The Fisherman’s eyes widened.

“I could hear that, you know. I have very good hearing. ‘Stop insulting it or it will run away’, that’s what your ear said.”

The Fisherman dropped his rod in a panic. The voices in his ear were going crazy. They were yelling at him to run away. He obeyed them gladly. The Robot watched him vanish into what was left of the forest. There was something else in the forest as well.

A bunch of men in green uniforms stepped out of the forest. Parts of the robot’s head were starting to whirr, circuits were ready to activate, but they wouldn’t. Not yet.

The Robot sat there, listening to its brain buzz. It didn’t care about these new people, nor did it acknowledge them. It was waiting for its brain to tell it what to do.

One last man in green stepped out of the forest. Part of the Robot’s brain clicked. That man was important.

“Hello, Experiment.”

There was a final click in the Robot’s brain. It recognized that voice. Hidden computer chips in its brain flared to life. A voice that was not its own began speaking.

“Hello General. I’m glad you’re here in person. Undoubtedly you’ve tried to capture this machine many times before.”

The Robot examined its body, looking for the unfamiliar voice. The General looked on with equal curiosity.

“You’ve failed, course. I know this because this machine will not, and can not be used by someone like you. It was built to break, yes. But it was not built to break for you.”

A few more chips started to whirr in the Robot’s brain. The voice suddenly sounded familiar.

“It was built to break you.”

The Voice Recognition was finalized. The Robot stood up. The men in green trembled.

Within seconds, every soldier, even the General, was dead. A sweeping blow from the machine snapped their bones into powder instantaneously.

“Oh my,” The Robot said.

It stared down at the broken mess it had left behind. Its right arm was covered in a red blossom of carnage.

“I guess I was supposed to break them.”

[duhrdotcom]

Nice.

[lyra/dicks]

I'M HERE TO SOAK UP YOUR THUNDER
No I'm joking don't hurt me :C
Everybody pay more attention to Mander's story than the continuation of mine, though I'm sure that's a given. ANYWHO:

Now being in a prison cell is scary. I couldn't see past my own nose, and water dripped from every crack in the ceiling. It wasn't a dungeon; it was on the highest floor of the tower. I didn't know exactly how far up I was, but I knew that an escape by breaking through the wall was out of the question. Whatever I could do in this world, I couldn't develop wings and fly. And when I sat down, I put myself right on a puddle of something, I don't know what. I scooched over a bit, but something squeaked and fled. I presumed it was a rat. I couldn't see well enough to tell. God knows what kind of things develop in a place like this. But I got my answer; there was a flapping of tiny wings. I watched in amazement as a small dark shape removed itself from the floor and fluttered out through the bars of my cage. Now that my eyes were adjusting I could see well enough that it was some sort of rat-bird thing. But then, as soon as it lifted off the ground, a larger shadow swooped down and caught it in its mouth. There was the sound of flesh being torn from bones, and a satisfied purr as something licked its paws. Things were really, really weird here. And things got weirder as my jailer revealed himself.

He was about my height, which is all I could really tell about him. At least he hadn't developed wings, as far as I could tell anyway. I squinted to make sure. At this point, I was scared I was going to grow wings. As if he saw me squinting, he answered my questions. "The rats here were part of an experiment." His voice was smooth like silk. I didn't like it. "So when they escaped and started breeding, we fought them back with flying cats." Right, because that makes total sense. Got any flying pigs? He resumed his little speech. "Hello, I'm to guard your cell for today. My name's-"
"Hang on a second," I interrupted him. "Why did you breed flying rats in the first place?"
I wished I could see the look he gave me. "Why not? We wanted to see if it was possible. Start with rats, maybe one day end up with flying horses. Anyway, my name's Steve."
"Okay, that makes better se- Wait, your name is Steve?" I stared. "Steve? But that..." I started laughing before I could even finish my sentence. "That's ridiculous!"
"I'll have you know I am a demon of the finest quality," he said stiffly. The guy was probably used to it by now. I sobered up.
"Okay, so you're Steve. I'm sure you know my name already. Why am I here again?"
"Well, you've been given a two-day period to make your decision. Until then, you are to be considered the enemy." Something skittered across my foot. I payed it no mind.
"Two day period to decide? C'mon, it's not like I can say no." I stared sightlessly at the wall.
"Many Heroes have been known to sacrifice everything, things even more important than their lives."
"...I know." I said softly.

They had my brother. There was nothing I could do. If I refused, they killed him. If I agreed, then went back on our deal, they killed him. I didn't know where he was being held, so I couldn't save him, and there was no possibility of him saving himself. After all, he was out cold, at least until my work was done. If it had been my life on the line, I might have been able to say no. But I had no say over who lives and who dies, and whose life is more important than somebody else's. I just couldn't do it. I didn't know what the Villains were out to do this time, but I knew it couldn't be good. And I was probably there to do the dirty work. The killing, the maiming, the leading of the vast army over continents to intercept the small band of Heroes... things like that. Things that weren't really my thing. It's all fine and dandy seeing these things on the big screen, but when you really got involved it was heart wrenching. But I still couldn't say no. It was all I could do to keep myself from having a break down right then and there. I'm not a stable person. My mental abilities aren't beyond amazing. I cry when I'm frustrated, when I'm depressed, when I'm lonely, even when I'm angry. The best I could do was keep myself from feeling. Losing it would only satisfy them. I wasn't going to let that happen. And I was going to get out of this. And if I died trying, well, at least I could get my brother out safely. That was more important to me at the moment.

Goddammit. I clenched my fist, gritting my teeth. I didn't know what to do. But then the demon named Steve leaned down and whispered. I strained to catch it. "...it's not as bad as it seems. Quite frankly, I do not agree with the practice of kidnapping to ensure a Hero defects. Heroes should stay Heroes, and Villains should stay Villains." Well, well, well. What was this, alignmentism? "I'm sure many of the others agree."
"But that's not enough." I accidentally let a note of despair into my voice, and winced.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not sympathizing with you. You could die in a ditch for all I care." He straightened up. There went that glimmer of hope. "In fact, I'd much prefer it if that happened. Things would go back to the old way then." I sighed. The noise was lost in the darkness of my cell.
Then a new voice entered the fray. "Dammit, Steve! We told you not to talk to the prisoner!" I smirked again at the usage of his name. But it didn't comfort me to know that there were others guarding this prison.
"Silence yourself!" Steve snapped back.

For those who haven't seen it before, I've posted snippets from the thing I'm working on on-and-off.
I need something else to write about.

Also Mander you gave me the idea to write a bit more about my character's past, too.

"Are you sure you've got everything, Mosquito?"

"Sure I do." There was the sound of rustling fabric. "And I told you, stop calling me that stupid nickname."

"Oh, you sure you remembered everything? Even your-"

"Yeah, mom. Got everything. If you're so unsure, you can take this stupid mission back, too." The girl pinned her hair up with a red ribbon, tying it in a bow at the back. The remaining cloth fell down her back. "You know that I think the dead should stay dead."

"But, dear!" Her mother feigned shock. "He was your brother! And the heir. What will we do without him?"

"He did something stupid, and he paid for it. You know him. Is he really going to learn from this?" She stuck her tongue out. The older woman was silent. "Well, I'm off. Catch ya later." She jumped off her front step and hit the ground with silent feet. The girl began to trudge off, although she was eager to get away from that place. Every breath there suffocated her. But she had a duty to it. That was the law of her family. No matter how many of them had attempted to run away... they always came back. They were specialists, all of them, and most of them incredibly deadly. The girl herself was a weapons specialist.

Her brother had been a magic specialist. One day he'd taken on a foolish quest, one usually reserved only for her father, who was considered one of the deadliest men in the realm. He'd died in the attempt. Unfortunately her family seemed stuck in their ways, refusing to let a woman become head of the family, so now she was off on her own quest;

"Seven keys..." She muttered to herself. Softly, all around her, snow began to fall. "And your heart's desire."

[Mr. Mander]

NO EVERYONE IGNORE LYRA I AM MORE IMPORTANT