Very good 'realistic' take on a mish. I enjoyed it very much. I hope you do some more work like this. My only advice to you is find a REAL dictionary...say...the Oxford English Dictionary....and look up some of the words you think of using. Even though this is prose there's nothing wrong with a poet's touch. You can paint a picture with words, create a mood. Look for the interrelationships between different words, to help knit a well-written story on a deeper level. This is some very advanced advice but think about the sounds that words make, i.e. a lot of 's' sounds might make one thinking of the slushing, slurping sound of sewage...or the fluids seeping from the zombie. Think of hard sounds that make the air stop...like t or ch (as in chur'ch'). That sort of thing. Very well done though, I think. Keep it up mate.
Thank you so much for the feedback! This is just the kind of thing I was hoping for.
Can you give me some concrete examples of the kind of improvements you're talking about? A sentence or paragraph improved to use more evocative language, or to give a better sense of the "feel" of it? I do try to do the things you mentioned, and I know I need to do a better job of it. I also often learn by example, so if you have the time I'd love to get a better handle on these kinds of things.
Again, thanks for the feedback!
The man known to police only as Synapse Sin regarded the dank, reeking sewer with dismay painted across his face. He had been in some nasty places since he arrived in the Rogue Isles, but this had to be the worst of them. He immediately wished he had picked up a re-breather or gas mask back at the base. The stench alone in this place was enough to knock out a charging rhinoceros.
Well, there was nothing for it. The Russian had said this was what he needed done, and Syn needed the equipment the Russian had promised. Best just get it over with. He moved cautiously into the tunnel that opened before him, taking care to stay on the walkways to either side of the slough. Even here, he had to watch his step; the concrete paths and metal walkways were slick and slimy with filth. But anything was better than wading through the muck in the center of the tunnel.
What on earth was this stuff, Syn wondered to himself. No normal sewage could possibly be this rank. There must be some factory or chemical plant that was dumping its waste down here. Grey-green blobs of semi-solid material swirled and bubbled in the slow flow of sewage, sometimes seeming to glow faintly, sometimes seeming to flow against the current. Syns analytical mind began to run through a list of possibilities; then he made a conscious effort to stop that line of thinking, given what some of those possibilities were.
The tunnel opened into a cavernous chamber with metal walkways along the walls and suspended from the high ceiling overhead. Syn paused, scanning the room for enemies. There didnt seem to be a single living thing down here besides himself. But that didnt make sense; the Russian wouldnt have sent him on a trivial mission in exchange for what Syn wanted, no matter how foul these tunnels were. But he had to admit, he couldnt see anything down here worth killing. His senses were greeted only by the faint mist of noxious vapors and the soft gurgling of the sewage.
Syn was turning toward the next tunnel, having decided that whatever was down here must be deeper below the earth, when the gurgling sound from the pool in the center of the room grew louder. He turned toward the sound, ready to fire off quick bolts of energy at whatever it was, but he wasnt prepared for what he saw. The thing that rose up out of the muck was only vaguely humanoid. It consisted of a misshapen, oblong torso with two long, blunt arms and two stubby legs, and what might have been either a low-set head or the stump of a very thick neck. It rose to a height of perhaps eight or nine feet, then began lumbering slowly toward him.
The thing was moving slowly, but Syn didnt waste any time. He fired off a quick salvo of energy blasts, balancing range with power, in an attack that should have sent the creature flying. But it hardly slowed the thing down. He could see bits and pieces of the monster blown off by his energy bolts, but the creature didnt even seem to notice. Some of the electrical charges seemed to pass straight through it; others seemed to simply be absorbed. Incredulous, Syn directed a stronger and more focused blast straight at the things head, but this had little more effect than his opening salvo.
As the monster approached him out of the gloom, Syn got his first good look at the thing, and his stomach twisted with revulsion. It seemed to have been pieced together from long-dead organisms, humanoids mostly, but some of the pieces defied identification. Bits of decayed flesh and broken bone dangled from the creatures right side, where one of Syns bolts had managed to cause some damage. Fat black flies the size of his thumb buzzed around it, and the stench the reeking sewers were like a field of lilacs by comparison.
The monstrosity had reached him now, and drew back a stubby arm for a blow, which Syn ducked just in time. He countered with a strong right hook to the creatures chest, wildly hoping he could knock the thing off balance. But his hopes turned to horror as his fist sank into the monster to the wrist with a soft squishing sound. Worse yet, his hand stuck there, as if the organic material of which the thing was made was trying to suck his whole arm in. As Syn struggled to get free, the creature opened its maw and belched forth a stream of caustic, sticky, greenish-brown goo onto his left shoulder and down his side. Immediately, his light protective armor started hissing as the stuff began to eat away at it. It was all Syn could do not to vomit.
His mind gripped with terror, Syn pulled back as hard as he could to disengage his fist from the monstrositys chest. His hand broke free with a wet sploosh, but the effort left him off-balance, and he fell backwards to the concrete walkway, his tailbone jarring painfully. He scrambled backward with his arms and legs like a spider, desperately trying to put whatever distance he could between himself and the monster. Once he had gone a few yards, he rolled over, got to his feet and ran.
But even in his panic, Syn never contemplated escaping to the surface. Admitting defeat just wasnt in his character. Once he judged that he was well outside the range of the creatures caustic regurgitation stream, he turned and unleashed every bit of energy he could summon at the beast. At first, his attacks had little more effect than they did before. But he unleashed barrage after barrage at the thing, mindless of the energy drain on his nanos. His mind was consumed by one thing, and one thing only: destroy, destroy, destroy. And at length, the creature was slowed; then halted; then driven back. And just as Syn could sense that his energy reserves were nearly depleted, the monstrosity began to decompose. It didnt fall down, as most things did; it simply dissolved back into the muck from which it had emerged.
Panting heavily, Syn quickly appraised his surroundings. Once again, the sewer was quiet and still. Nothing else seemed to be moving, and no sign of the monstrosity remained. Breathing a sigh of relief, he drew on what power he had left, emitting a field of radiation that began to neutralize the caustic substance that covered his left side. He would just have to rest a few moments, and then he could
A translucent purplish blob came hurtling out of the darkness, hitting Syn squarely in the chest and knocking him backwards, straight into the trough of sewage. He bounded back to his feet, ignoring for the moment the filth that now covered him from head to toe. He instinctively increased the radiation output, healing the damage to his chest, while he scanned the chamber for his attacker. But there was nothing there. Another blob of plasma came streaking toward him, but this time he was able to dodge to the side and avoid its trajectory. Where was this coming from? How could he fight back, if he couldnt see his attacker?
Gradually, Syn began to make out a shape that was located roughly where the plasma bursts seemed to be coming from. The very mists and vapors of the sewer seemed to be coalescing into some kind of ethereal, semi-transparent entity. He knew that whatever it was, he was in no shape to take it on now. He turned to flee. But long, grasping tendrils rose suddenly from the filth, entangling themselves around his legs and up to his chest. Escape was impossible. But he refused to let this thing get the better of him. He channeled the last of his power into healing and protective auras. If only he could stay on his feet until he could break free, he could
Syn blinked as the red and black rings of the hospital teleporter rose around him with a soft electrical hum, and he sighed in resignation. Well, he thought, now he understood why the Russian chose not to carry out this particular mission himself. He looked himself over, checking for any residual damage. The teleporter had cleaned away the muck, but the damage to his suit was significant. He would have to dispose of this one burn it, probably and get a new one. He sighed again as he realized that his next step would be to return to the sewer and try again. But first, he would have to go back to the base and do some research on whatever the hell it was that infested that vile place. And this time, he was damned well not going down there without some re-breathers!
((Any and all comments, feedback and/or constructive criticism is more than welcome!))