Well, it's alright... It's got potential...
You say Jack's name too often. It's always Jack this and Jack that... Your pronoun use is good, but it would help if you mixed it up more. Use physical descriptions like "the brown-haired young man" or "his athletic form." Starting every sentence with "Jack," is bothersome to read, though.
Usually, you only have to use the name once every other paragraph and the reader should still be able to tell whom you're talking about. It should be more frequent, though, as you add more characters into the immediate mix.
Also, you should try to separate past from present. Using italicized text, dashes (---) or something can help the reader know that the focus has shifted from the original narrative to a memory.
Now, that's not to say it's all bad. By no means is this a terrible story. Your pacing is good, you're very descriptive and the paragraphs are nicely broken up so it's easier for the eyes to adjust and follow (that last one seems to take other posters FOREVER to figure out, often leading to the "Wall of Text" problem). The character is interesting, too, and his motivations, as flawed as Jack's point of view may be, make sense. I actually feel kind of sorry for these Council troops in their last terrible moments of life.
It's not the sort of work I like to spotlight, but it's a good first attempt. You do a good job of fleshing out the character and it makes me hope to see more work from you in the future. Hopefully, you'll take lessons from this and refine your style to make future presentations more palatable.
That said, good luck, welcome to the boards, and keep up the good work!
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Thanks for the feedback and tips, Mr. Grey. I assure you it is very much appreciated.
I had the different times emphasized in my original, I just completely forgot about them when copying and pasting to the post. Ooops.
In and About Paragon City: Keep the Lighthouse in Sight
Jack coughed up blood. The pain in his chest snapped him out of unconsciousness. He looked at his hand and muttered a curse, "Damn." The blood was darker than before, not a good sign.
As he regained his senses, he heard the cacophony of explosions, blasts, gunfire and screams, horrible screams. He tried to crawl away from the noise, but it seemed to surround him on all sides. His eyes focused on his rifle, dropped only a few feet away when he fell.
The effort involved in dragging himself towards his weapon was too much and Jack fainted once more. His mind went elsewhere.
"Bang bang, I got you!" shouted Jack. He was playing in the shipping yard where his dad worked.
"Argh, you got me, Jackie!" said his dad, with a smile on his face. Jack and his rifle were inseparable, ever since Joe gave his son the toy cap gun for his birthday.
Jack smiled at his dad and reloaded his cap gun. Joe returned to his conversation with Mr. Solozzo.
"Sorry about that, kids, you know? Anyway, here's next week's shipping manifests. Check it over and make any corrections. Once the containers get here, our guys will make sure the inventory checks out." Joe knew that when he got the manifests back from Solozzo, specific containers would end up just a bit lighter than originally planned. The discrepancies would simply disappear from the containers and end up in Solozzo's trucks.
Solozzo sneered as he took the lists from Joe, "Yeah, no problem. Business as usual. I'll probably send a couple of the boys over for added security. Too many capes snoopin' around Family business right now."
Without a backward glance, Solozzo climbed back into his sedan. Two goons with barely concealed bulges in their jackets looked around one last time before getting into the car. With a spray of gravel, the car sped out of the shipping yard.
Joe sighed, this was life in Independence Port. There was just no way of operating without involving the Family. Still, as long as you kept your head down and made no trouble, you were good to go.
"Come on, Jackie boy. Let's go visit old Henry at the tugboat. He's been asking about you and might have a little birthday surprise for ya."
"Sure, Dad" said Jack "I like Henry, he's funny. And I wanna show him my new gun"
Joe smiled and took Jack by the hand, boys and their guns, he thought. He wondered if the goons in the Family started out that way before graduating to real hardware.
Something wet hit Jack in the face. He didn't even want to imagine what or, more likely, who it might have been. He had been out for only a few seconds and he was only a little bit closer to his rifle. The radio in his earpiece buzzed, it sounded like Georg, "I've got the target in sight. Repeat, in sight"
Jack thought that Georg sounded panicked. Who could blame him? Even the calm nerves required for a marksman would be shaken by the chaos erupting all around the area. If Georg wasn't so nervous, he would've taken the shot already. Jack's suspicions were confirmed when Georg babbled again, "I've got 'em in sight."
"Keep the lighthouse in sight and you'll be fine. I'll be there by the buoy" Jack said into the radio. He piloted the tug boat towards the buoy, the fog was very thick tonight, but he'd seen worse. Jack felt the engines thrumming beneath his feet, it was an old boat, but very reliable.
Old Henry had died in the pilot's chair a year or so back. Joe must have seen that coming when he had Jack train as tugboat pilot. Joe had done a good job raising Jack, especially after Jack's mom left them.
The CB crackled and Jack picked up the receiver "Yeah, Dad?"
"Just checkin' on the Sea Star, how's she doin'?" replied Joe over the static-filled radio.
"She's coming in, slowly. The fog is pretty bad, but the lighthouse is still beaming, so they're good"
"Good, good. damned capes and their fighting knocked out most of the power to the grid. At least the lighthouse back-up generators are still working, otherwise the Sea Star will have to wait until morning. You be careful out there, keep that damned lighthouse in sight, dont want the Sea Star to plow you over, if they ain't careful." cautioned Joe.
"Roger that, Dad", Jack hung up the receiver. Piloting a tugboat isn't normally too hazardous of a job, certainly not when compared to just living in Paragon City. At any given moment, some cape might tussle with any number of assorted freaks and come blasting towards the port. Watching out for yourself around capes was second nature to anyone living in Paragon.
For Jack, the capes were just a nuisance. He didn't want to play super heroes when he was a kid, it was just too boring. Jack rather play at being a soldier or a cop, maybe even a Family tough guy. He still had that toy cap gun he Dad had got him years ago, it was tucked away in a shoe box in his closet at home.
Jack put the tugboat in idle and just let the boat rock gently in the waves. The Sea Star would be a few minutes more, so Jack just peered directly ahead of the boat. The revolving beam in the lighthouse was almost mesmerizing. Darkness, then blinding light, darkness, then blinding light, darkness, then
Jack had moved about a full foot closer to his rifle when a flash of light filled the room. Georg let out a strangled cry over the comm and then silence. The battle continue to rage, it felt like it'd been going on for hours, but Jack knew it'd been a handful of minutes at the most. Another cough sent shockwaves of pain through his body. Jack was sure that finally getting his rifle would make no difference in the outcome of the battle, but he was determined to get it anyway. In his mind, it had become a talisman to ward off whatever harm was coming his way. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the rifle, as if it were a beacon. Sweat dripped from his brow and momentarily blinded him.
It was unbelievably hot today. Jack paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead, then with a grunt lifted the wheelbarrow. Jack hated construction work, but it was the only steady work he could find in Kings Row. They were always rebuilding something in this city, since there was always something being knocked down. It'd almost be a half decent job if it paid better, but construction labor supply wasn't a problem. Besides, half of the construction project costs were tied up in security. If it wasn't the Hellions or Skulls vandalizing the site, then it was those damned Clockwork always stealing material. Paying some guy to lug around a wheelbarrow was a minor expense, at best.
Life got worse for Jack since he left Independence Port. It'd gone good for a while, but got bad when the capes increased pressure on the Family. The Family felt profits from all of their business ventures begin to dry up. So, they started to muscle in on the dockworker's unions. Bad enough they had the workers steal for them, but now the Family stole from the workers.
Jack's dad wouldn't stand for it. Joe was too old-school for this new generation of Family. All of his old contacts were dead or imprisoned, the average lifespan of a criminal just wasn't that long. Joe couldn't even rally the other workers to back his play, they were all too scared. Even Jack begged his dad to stop making trouble.
But, Joe wouldn't listen. And finally, one night, the Family got tired of Joe and put three in the back of his head. Joe's fellow workers were too scared to prevent his murder, but urged Jack to get out of town. The Family didn't appreciate loose ends. They gave him some start-up money, not enough for more than a couple of weeks and sent him to Kings Row.
"Hey, Jack, come here." Shouted his foreman.
"Coming." Jack put down the wheelbarrow and walked over, "What's up?"
"I'm sorry, but this is your last paycheck." said the foreman, not even looking Jack in the eyes. "Two spandex freaks stopped a bunch of Hellions from burning down one of our other projects. But, they ended knocking down the damned thing in the process. Insurance will probably pay up, but until they do, we gotta cut costs."
Jack snatched the envelope from the foreman's hand "Yeah, yeah last hired, first fired, I get it."
"Hey, once the insurance check clears, we might hire again. Check with us in a couple of months" offered the foreman.
"Yeah, right. Like there aren't a thousand other guys out there who could this for even less than the pitiful pay I'm getting. Don't do me any favors." Jack stalked off the construction site, tossing his hardhat into the ground behind him.
Jack spent the next few hours in some seedy bar, drinking his last paycheck away. It wouldn't have even been enough to cover the rent, so why bother? It was dark when he emerged from the bar, he stumbled across the street when he heard some commotion.
Some guy in a uniform was standing on an honest-to-goodness soap box and going on about something. He was surrounded by a couple of other tough looking guys in similar uniforms. A small crowd had gathered to watch the show. Jack finally got close enough to hear the speech.
"This city belongs to normal people. Good, honest people. Not these so-called heroes, with their oh-so-colorful costumes and utter disregard for your safety. And certainly not to the gangbangers and freaks. Especially those who aren't even from around here. I'm not just talking about foreigners, but some of these freaks are from different magical dimensions or even another planet!" shouted the officer from his soapbox.
"We're not like that, we're just regular people wanting to keep this city safe for regular people. We're tired of having to duck whenever a cape flies by or run around like headless chickens at the first sign of trouble. Not anymore. We're taking back this city for us. For you! But, we need more regular guys like you to do it. Come to our rally and see what we're all about. I promise you, if you're fed up like we are, we're gonna give you the means to do something about it!
Jack liked what he heard, it both tempered and fueled the bottled-up rage he felt ever since being run out of Independence Port. His fists clenched as he spoke to one of the recruiters. He barely remembered filling out the paperwork and signing his name, all he could think about what his father.
Jack blinked the sweat away from his eyes and took a deep breath. Another spasm of coughs wracked his chest. He heard someone grunt and then saw a body fly over his head, landing just beyond his rifle. It was Wilson, his head was caved in and Jack found himself staring at the mess that was Wilson's face. Jack felt his stomach turn, but it was more than the grisly site that filled him with revulsion. It was the laughter he could hear from his attackers, Wilson's back-flip must have been comical to them. Jack looked away from Wilson's body and returned his focus to his rifle, now just barely out of the reach of his gloved hand. Jack dug deep into himself and reached for the rifle.
Jack stretched his arms and stifled a yawn. Luckily, the Adjutant's back was towards him. Wilson caught Jack's eye and gave him a wink. Even through their dark sunglasses, Jack could see Wilson shared his boredom. The Adjutant had one leg propped on a box, with his arm resting on his knee. He was blathering away about something with Georg. Georg was only half listening, as he polished his rifle.
Since becoming a marksman, Georg was obsessed with his weapon. A brief flash of recognition distracted Jack as he remembered his long-forgotten cap gun. It was probably in the hands of his Kings Row landlord's son or something. Jack lost all of his stuff when he was evicted from his apartment. Not that it mattered, by then Jack had already relocated to the barracks provided by the Council.
Jack had completed his boot camp training in a matter of weeks and was already on field assignments. He could see that others in his squad had the same minimal training. Most of the guys simply did the old "gun and run" tactic. Take a shot at your enemy and then charge them. He could never understand why that made any sense, especially when taking on capes. Half the time, they blasted you before you could get close. The other half of the time, they stood there, taunting you to get even closer. Those were much worse than getting blasted.
Jack had no idea why his squad was just standing in the lobby of this office building. Either somebody was getting the shakedown treatment or some painting was being stolen. Even in his short time with the Council, he'd lost track of his assignments. They seemed to just be the same thing over and over again, with maybe a slight change of scenery. Yesterday, it was a warehouse. Today it's an office. Tomorrow, it might be in the cargo hold of a ship.
Jack didn't like the assignments in cargo ships. Too many bad memories; he didn't like thinking about his dad these days.
Jack's attention shifted back to the Adjutant, as he stopped talking to Georg. The Adjutant was just about to say something, when the room got cold. It wasn't just the air conditioning kicking into overtime, it felt like the cold from the grave.
Suddenly, the Adjutant was frozen in a solid block of ice and an arrow sprouted from his chest. From out of nowhere, some cape with a baseball bat charged into his squad. Jack couldn't believe his eyes, a goddamned baseball bat. Two guys whom he didn't even get to know yet, reached for their guns. Mr. Baseball swung his bat in an arc and the two poor bastards were sent flying.
Jack fumbled for his rifle, when a chick with white skin and black tattoos suddenly in front of him. Jack was about to shout "Wait!", when she punched him in the chest. Jack felt like a ball of fire exploded inside him. He felt as if his entire rib cage had just collapsed.
And that's when things got really crazy. Some cape in a fedora was floating overhead, he was surrounded by ghosts which flew in the direction instructed by the cape. Over at another squad, the one which was supposed to cover Jack's squad, a gigantic dragon was smashing heads left and right. As Jack fell, he caught a glimpse of a woman in violet or purple, blasting guys with waves of energy.
Jack coughed hard as he hit the floor, he could see a spray of bright red blood fly from his mouth. Jack looked around for his rifle, before he blacked out.
Jack finally grabbed his rifle. His hand at just wrapped itself around the gun, the overhead lights of the lobby glinting off of the barrel. Suddenly, it looked like the lights went out. A massive shadow appeared right over Jack. He rolled onto his back, his rifle clenched in his fists, and looked up.
He didn't even have time to scream. Not that he wanted to, instead, Jack just let out a deep sigh. His last thoughts were "Oh for cryin' out loud, a dumpster!?"