Double Vision - RP Story

Part One - Recognition

(My wife wanted a story for Christmas, so here it is! At least, part one.)

The dark underbelly of the City was a living thing, swallowing whole the weak and helpless. It was a corrupt cancer growing in the Birthplace of Tomorrow, but it was somehow more honest than the place from which she had come. Here, the festering wounds of civilization were displayed openly, and people knew that there were neighborhoods that you simply did not walk through at night.

Back in Praetoria, the corruption was glossed over, hidden behind a veneer of chrome and cleanliness. She longed for the burned wastes of her home briefly, the hidden stronghold of Udachny, despite the horrible devastation that had been brought around it.

She leapt from rooftop to rooftop, springing silently through the night. There were rumors that a bastion of hope lived where the light was darkest, and she sought it. She glanced briefly over her shoulder, and saw her husband crouched behind her, following her lead.

Her young, baby-faced husband. She smiled briefly as she calculated her next jump. They had not been born too far apart, but circumstances had aged her over two decades more. His extradimensional jaunt had cost them years, years in which he had aged much more slowly than she.

Another jump, and she moved quietly through the forest of antennae and satellite dishes. They were almost there. She heard a "Hsst!" from behind her, and she looked back. Her husband was communicating with the hand signals she had taught him and in which their daughters had drilled him. She looked to the point he was indicating, and strained her ears. She squinted her eyes, and saw what he was pointing at. A green glow spilled over the edge of a tall roof beside them, and the wind brought a faint noise - an alien chant covering a faint sob.

It was a choice, she supposed, but no choice at all. Someone needed help, and hope was such a remote possibility that she had lived a life of hope deferred. She gave a few hand signals in reply to her husband, outlining a brief framework of tactics. Immediate action was required; her hopes once again denied. He nodded and began to tack around to the left, while she set the controls for her jump, to take her high up and into the midst of the enemy.

The arc was too high, and the jump would land her directly upon the young woman who needed her help, the one levitating in the midst of a green cloud while a group of hooded and robed figures surrounded her. A quick burst of the retro-jets corrected her course, but also revealed her to the group.

The chanting stopped, and before she landed, four of the figures had drawn pistol-gripped crossbows and were firing on her. One bolt glanced off her armored shoulder; another shattered on her chest plate.

One figure, obviously some sort of high priest or leader in a scarlet robe, cried out "Get her! The ritual must continue!" as he reached into his robe, and drew out a short, curved staff. The other figures dropped their crossbows in favor of wicked, curved blades. The blades looked somehow organic and suffused with evil. The attackers advanced, eyes glowing green under their hoods.

Tatyana Korsakova, also known as Comrade Siberian, gave a fierce grin as she raised her arms towards the first onrushing attacker. A whine of capacitors pierced the night sky as she struck the first, electricity arcing from her fist and into his body. He fell, twitching. She dodged back as a blade stabbed towards her face. One gauntleted hand pushed the blade aside as the other rocketed towards the center of the robe. The second attacker let out a satisfying "Oof!" as impact and discharge took him out of the fight.

Behind the attackers, a howling wind suddenly rushed up the side of the building, staggering the high priest. An icy tornado landed lightly on the roof, and at the eye of the storm was her husband, Yevgeny Korsakov, sometimes called Dedushka Zima. Grandfather Winter. A raging glacier in human form, impressive and unstoppable.

He moved his arms in wide, sweeping motions, drawing together a high-pressure ball of air, supercooling it with his own inherent power, and threw it forward with a thrust, knocking one of the robed figures to the edge. The figure swayed for a moment, trying and failing to find its balance before falling over the edge, flailing and screaming.

Comrade Siberian chuckled at her husband's martial-arts styling as she faced three more opponents. They lunged towards her with their blades, and she avoided them. Finally, one over-extended, and she hit him with a brutal two-punch combo that left him stunned and shaking. The others tried to flank her, blades flashing back and forth.

"Look out!" Yevgeny cried in Russian as he sent another freezing sphere into one of Tatyana's attackers. Tatyana glanced over to thank him, and instead saw him flying off to one side. The high priest had crawled up to his knees and blasted Yevgeny with some sort of energy from his wand. Another blast, and Yevgeny went sailing into the void.

Tatyana cried out and hit her attacker with a maximum discharge forearm strike, and jumped off the side herself. She landed lightly, the shock absorbers in her boots cushioning her fall. Three steps, and she was kneeling beside her husband, whose thick protective coating of ice was failing. He grunted, and his eyes tried and failed to focus on her.

Tatyana shook her head. "This is why I tell you to wear that armor suit I made for you, da?" she whispered softly to him.

"Da, da, dorogoi," he muttered as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Tatyana reached down and checked his pulse, which was still going strong - Yevgeny had just been knocked senseless. A quick inspection yielded no broken bones or spinal injuries, so she cradled him and lifted him easily, the servos in her armor whirring briefly as they shifted into load-hauling mode. She turned only to see a crossbow pointing directly into her face.

"You'll pay for this, hero!" came the sneering voice from deep within the robe.

There was a twang of a bowstring, and Tatyana flinched, only to see the robed figure collapse as a blunt arrow struck his head. Tatyana looked behind her to see a young man, dressed in red and gold pajamas, wearing a modified football helmet and carrying a bow. The young man lowered his weapon, and muttered from behind his breathing mask, "Uh, hi. You, uh... whoa. You been time traveling again, Strike Leader? And, uh... wait... Er... No, I don't think that's it." The young hero shook his head as he placed a teleportation tag on the collapsed high priest. "Forget I said anything. Anyhow, I'm from the, uh, local hero-ish group, and, does your guy need a doctor?"

Tatyana rolled her eyes. "Da, he needs a doctor. Can you help me find one?"

The bowman nodded rapidly. "Yeah! Follow me! It's two blocks away!" He trotted off rapidly. "We've got a doctor on staff! He's kinda weird, but he knows his stuff. Here, in here," he gabbled, indicating an unmarked steel door with a code lock in an otherwise nondescript alley. He punched in some numbers and held the door open.

Tatyana smirked. She was in no rush - her husband shook off injuries like this routinely, but a little medical attention never hurt. "So, young man, what do I call you?" she asked as she passed into the building.

"Call me the Bol- I mean, the Bowman," he said. "Look, here's Dr. Paladin. He'll have your, uh, guy up in no time."

"Hey, kid, what do you got for me?" Dr. Paladin was seated at the clinic desk, sipping on a cup of coffee.

"Well, uh, this guy's hurt, and I think this nice lady needs to meet with the boss."

Dr. Paladin looked over Tatyana and Yevgeny, paused for a moment, and nodded. "I think you're right. Ma'am, if you'll set him down over there, I can get to work right away. Bowman, can you find Dr. Glit for me?"

"Sure, Doc!" Bowman cried, pulling out a smartphone and starting to send a text message.

"Good, because once you've done that, take her to see the boss. And don't spend too much time Twittering, either."

Tatyana glared at Dr. Paladin. "Excuse me, comrade Doctor. I am new to the city, and I have never met any of you before, and I do not think that I shall be leaving my husband's side. If you wish me to meet someone, you bring them here to me."

Dr. Paladin blinked his eye, and smirked. "Some things are a little different, I guess... Bowman, go get the boss. Ma'am, if you'd like to pull up a chair, I have some paperwork for you... medical history stuff. Do you prefer your forms in English or Russian?"

"Russian, spasiba." Comrade Siberian sat with a clipboard and a pen, checking various boxes as she went.

A few minutes later, she heard a voice grousing and cursing. Dr. Paladin looked up from his work, and said, "Your visitor's here."

Tatyana stood and and smiled, and turned to look at her visitor. He was tall, scar-faced, shaven-headed, but immediately recognizable. Her visitor looked back, and shock crept over both their faces. They both exclaimed at the same time, "You're so OLD!"

I'm still giggling at the last line.

So I've been warned that this will be a long story... For the last long story I made a "Cast List"... for this one I shall simply append to the story post.

Part One Cast, in order of appearance:





p.s. I've been promised Part Two by New Year's!

I enjoyed reading the story, but one thing I noticed is that you tend to use hyphens where a colon would be more appropriate.

For example:

"A green glow spilled over the edge of a tall roof beside them, and the wind brought a faint noise - an alien chant covering a faint sob."

In proper grammar:

"A green glow spilled over the edge of a tall roof beside them, and the wind brought a faint noise: an alien chant covering a faint sob."

Hyphens are used to separate and join words. If you've ever read Tolkien, you will see a lot of them. The quoted sentence above (and this sentence, too!) is appropriate with use of a colon: it provides apposition.

There's also times when it's more appropriate to use a semicolon.

For example:

"Tatyana reached down and checked his pulse, which was still going strong - Yevgeny had just been knocked senseless."

In proper grammar:

"Tatyana reached down and checked his pulse, which was still going strong; however, Yevgeny had just been knocked senseless."

It's proper grammar, and it makes the sentence flow well. Semi-colons are used to join two complete sentences; they are often used in the manner you are reading now. They can be used in a large amount of ways; yet, few people tend to use them accurately and appropriately.

I recieved your message and I'm a little displeased at the lack of will to improve yourself. I quote, "I have no interest in your criticism, now or in the future." If you don't wish to be criticized, I suggest not posting your stories on a public forum whereupon people may post their opinions on such stories.

In any case, I gave the story another read over. While I do still like it (it is written fairly well for an amateur writer,) I noticed you were using ellipsis within conversation. Ellipsis, as a rule, are used to abridge long pieces of text. They're not meant to show a "trailing end" as punctuation. Take for example this passage:

Mondo, when people tell you, "If you have nothing useful to say, don't say anything at all," this is what they are talking about.

Smersh -- I liked it, and am looking forward to Part Two!

Quote:

Originally Posted by Dumpleberry Mondo, when people tell you, "If you have nothing useful to say, don't say anything at all," this is what they are talking about.

And I imagine they tell him that a lot, too!

Quote:

Originally Posted by MondoCool On the other hand, I'm giving some very useful advice.

No, you're nitpicking, as well as making factual errors in your "advice."

Quote:

Originally Posted by MondoCool Ellipsis, as a rule, are used to abridge long pieces of text. They're not meant to show a "trailing end" as punctuation.

"Ellipsis (plural ellipses; from the Ancient Greek: ἔλλειψις, élleipsis, "omission") is a mark or series of marks that usually indicate an intentional omission of a word in the original text. An ellipsis can also be used to indicate a pause in speech, an unfinished thought, or, at the end of a sentence, a trailing off into silence ." [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ellipsis]

I'd go dig out my Associated Press Stylebook, but since it's probably older than you are, AND because I don't feel like paying $25 a year for the online version, I figured I'd provide a handy wiki link instead. If you feel THAT strongly about ellipses, maybe you could start editing wikipedia in your spare time?

Tatyana sat in a creaking office chair. The desk was piled high with paperwork and the walls were covered with old, framed propaganda posters. The selection of the posters, she thought, might give her some insight into the man.

She had a hot cup of tea, fresh from the samovar, and the first decent cigarette she'd had in decades. Udachny had been prepared for apocalyptic nuclear war and among the supplies laid in were thousands upon thousands of cigarettes, most of which were stale before the cache was even opened.

It had not taken much for her husband to recover; it was only a mild concussion and the effects would fade in short order. He had taken all of the strangeness with equanimity and had not batted an eye when confronted with an older version of himself. "He is the third version of myself I have run into this week... after that it should take a bit more to shake me, da?" he had quipped.

He had urged her to meet with the person in charge, the one who made the decisions. He would be fine and would be waiting for her when the meeting was over. She had argued with herself internally for a moment, balancing what she saw as her duty to keep her family safe against her belief that her husband could take care of himself. Hope won out over caution and she left her husband to the company of these others.

She decided that she would think of this man as Smersh. He clearly could not be called Yevgeny Korsakov, because Yevgeny Korsakov was her husband. This old, scarred man had some similarities, but many differences. He carried himself as a soldier, tough and somehow rigid; a far cry from the easy grace of her husband.

She absently stirred her tea as she stared into the middle distance. Then she began to speak.

"The Hamidon Wars almost certainly kept us out of Afghanistan, da. My unit were among the first within my country to encounter what came to be called the Zemnyye Pozhirateli, the Earth Devourers. They were a threat that simply could not be faced head-on. It was as though the very rocks and trees, our own motherland turned against us."

"Unit?" Smersh prompted, unconsciously tugging at his black uniform jacket.

"Da, of course. I was Spetznaz, a captain. I was deployed all over the world. My... well, my husband, your double, worked in a high-security science city in Siberia. He is no scientist, I am afraid. Just a technician," she chuckled.

Smersh raised an eyebrow. "I do not suppose that was Udachny, was it?"

"Ah, yes. Udachny. I see that you've heard of it. In our world it was a fortified science city, as well as a prototype nuclear shelter city. It was designed to last forever under the worst of conditions. Thankfully, it did work, but not quite so well as expected. Worst case scenario plans never do." Tatyana paused for a moment, thinking. "How is it that you knew of Udachny, tovarisch? It is hardly a tourist destination."

Smersh drummed his fingers. "The same way I recognized you. Your... double worked there. She is a mathematician and physicist who worked there. Her specialty is dimensional physics and the structure of the multiverse."

"My double, a physicist? And mathematician, specializing in dimensional travel? How odd. I have never had all that much of an interest in such things. My husband did work with them, until..."

Smersh rolled a cigarette between his fingers. "Until the Siberian Dimensional incident."

"How do you know of the Siberian Dimensional Incident? It was highly classified. And I am certain that rumors are not yet trans-dimensional," Tatyana said with a small frown.

Smersh reached down and Tatyana heard the metal on metal scrape of a drawer opening. His hand came up, holding a thick file. He said, "The same thing happened in our world."

"It did? A strange thing to be constant across worlds."

"It is... a long story... and one of large cosmic implications. Perhaps I shall tell it to you someday."

Tatyana quirked an eyebrow. "Perhaps I shall have it from you someday, comrade."

There was a silence, not quite uncomfortable, but certainly palpable. Tatyana covered it by pouring herself another cup of tea, while Smersh lit another cigarette. Exhaling a plume of smoke, Smersh volunteered, "Your double was lost in another world for quite some time."

Tatyana seized on the conversational gambit. "Da, my husband was lost in that incident as well, for a number of years," she said. "Of course, as you can see, he made it back to us, and with strange new powers. Something to do with monastic living on whatever world he found himself on. Let me tell you, it is still annoying that he no longer eats meat." Tatyana's eyes widened behind her sunglasses. She could not believe that she had shared such an intimate detail with someone who, despite the familiar face, was essentially a stranger to her.

"Another way in which he and I differ. Aside from the hair." They both chuckled for a moment, Smersh in response to his own joke and Tatyana to cover her mortification. Tatyana sipped at her tea and mentally prepared herself, thinking her way through her mental note cards. Better to let them speak than to risk another such embarrassment. It was time for the question she had come to ask.

Tatyana leaned forward in her chair and stared into the leaves in the bottom of her cup for a moment before she spoke.

"By the time he came back, with his fewer missing years, the world had taken a long turn for the worse. Our motherland is overrun by those creatures, a wasteland. We tried every weapon in our arsenal against them, but they just kept coming. Udachny still stands, as do a few other cities in Russia, but the price was high.

"It was scorched earth. For fifty miles around our remaining cities, nothing can live, nothing grows. The only thing that keeps us safe for now will certainly kill us, poisoning us by degrees. Radioactive, polluted ground, air, water," she took a quick breath to steady herself, "going outside to scout means wearing heavy protective gear. Living inside means distilled water, filtered air, and tasteless hydroponic food.

"There are rumors that a few nomadic tribes have risen to take over the steppe and roam freely through the few ways that still support life. The rest... where the nuclear, chemical and biological agents have not taken hold, the Pozhirateli have. Our homeland no longer exists.

"My husband, our daughter Alisa, myself and a few others undertook a dangerous journey, crossing over the Arctic, to this supposed crown jewel of humanity, Praetoria. Outside of the dead zones, we no longer had to wear sealed protective suits, but we had to keep on our filter masks. To sleep, we had to set up tents with self-contained oxygen supplies.

"We had, of course, heard the broadcasts proclaiming the supremacy of Czar Cole over all of humanity, taking over the United Nations Security Council, supposedly destroying the source of the creatures. If he did, then why do they still roam my nation?" It was clearly a rhetorical question. Tatyana was sitting up taller now, speaking with a quiet passion that brooked no interruption.

"It was the New Soviets, liberals and peacemongers, that turned over their power to him, in the hopes that he would save them. He did not." She snorted derisively. "Our cities, our fortresses... we chose to rely upon our own industry and genius to keep us alive, not some supposed super-god-man from America. I suppose that it could be called a small civil war, but there was little shooting going on. We lived, such as it was. Most of them did not.

"With the Udachny incident we had lost our greatest minds in the field of dimensional travel, which is what we have pegged our hopes upon. We knew that, to find assistance for our plight, we should have to look to other worlds. Someone, somewhere, had to have an answer. We did not have the technology and if it existed anywhere, it would be in Praetoria.

"Apparently, Czar Cole intends to abandon his world and bring his people here; to subject you all to his rule. I... find myself uncaring," she said, pushing aside the lie to herself. "As you can see, we found our way here, because of the people of your world. Your scientists, your soldiers, they have been interfering in Praetorian politics. There is a war brewing, and because of it, my people are suffering. This is not our war. I do not care about all of the posturing. I care about my home.

"Had your Dr. Sheridan chosen to make contact with us we would have been happy to assist him in fighting this Cole, had he but promised to help us restore our country. He did not. He does not care about us. He only worries about Praetoria because it is a threat to your home. This does not concern me; and I cannot care about this impending war, because both sides will ignore us and leave us to die in the miserable wasteland that is our Rodina.

"I came seeking you, because I had heard of your group. I want... I need help... for my country. I hope that you will agree to aid us. And if you will not, I will thank you for the attention to my husband, the tea, and I will seek help on yet another world.

"I trust I have explained myself adequately to you, Old Bald Yevgeny Korsakov Who Is Not My Husband? Or may I just call you Smersh?"

She fixed him with her gaze, one corner of her mouth twitching. She knew she had taken a risk, a calculated one. Either he would agree to help with everything he could spare or he would dismiss her immediately and leave her with nothing to show for her efforts. Not even passage to another world or back to her home.

Everything she had done in this world rode on the next few moments and she had no idea what they held. She pursed her lips, to keep the butterflies within her stomach, and waited for an eternity.

A guy can't give some friendly advice to improve another guy's typing without the white knights rushing to his defense? What has Virtue come to?

Officer Tanya Palmer knocked on the door. Her hand struck a precise four inches below the chrome name plate that read Sergeant Jonathan Knight. A muffled voice spoke permission within, and she opened the door a fraction and stuck her head within.

Most of the police department had a certain quality to it, a combination of cleanliness and use. The lines were all clean and the metal all polished, but work surfaces were stacked with papers and evidence, indicating officers more concerned about doing the job than keeping an orderly facade. Not so this office; Sergeant Knight's private sanctum was austere and sterile, devoid of any hint of disorder.

"They're here, sir," Officer Palmer advanced. Sergeant Knight looked up, a broad shouldered man with an air of invincible competence. Jonathan smiled, and beckoned with a hand, indicating that she should send in the two men he had chosen for this meeting.

The door closed for a moment, and fifteen seconds later, it opened fully. The first man entered, wearing Praetorian Police issue armor. He was stocky and short, perhaps four inches short of six feet, but sauntered in and sat easily in the right-hand chair, sitting up ramrod straight and attentive. Dark eyes fixed him from a rugged face framed by blue locks, tied up with a red headband.

Jonathan nodded and looked to the other man, who was closing the door behind himself and leaning against the wall of the spartan office. The second man was dressed as though he was a fashion model for Praetoria Weekly, dapper in his purple jacket and pin-striped pants, red tie held firmly in place by a diamond clasp. He was a handsome man, with a cleanly shaved head and neatly trimmed goatee.

Jonathan waited for a few seconds before beginning. "Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. I am Sergeant Jonathan Knight, and I will be in charge of this little venture. I have selected the two of you for your service records and special abilities. Naturally, this mission is top secret, and it will have you both away from home for some time. I trust you have both made arrangements?"

The blue-haired man crisply said, "Yes sir." The bald one nodded coolly.

Jonathan depressed a hidden stud, and the lights in the white-and-chrome office lowered, and the holographic projector whirred to life from the desk. Images sprang to life as Jonathan spoke. "The mission will take us to what is called by its inhabitants 'Primal Earth.' You may be aware of the recent incursions by forces from that dimension, from several competing armed factions." The first image was a suburban housing area torn by war, a group of heavily armed soldiers clad in red and white battling Praetorian Police. "Longbow."

A second image appeared, of an armored soldier with four extra limbs protruding from his back, restrained within a Behavioral Adjustment Facility cell. "Arachnos."

Another picture, this one hazy and ill-focused, of a man in a long coat and broad-brimmed hat. "Vanguard."

Jonathan let this image stay still as he continued. "At the highest levels, all of these are considered a major threat to our way of life. We may encounter these foes, and more, during our mission, but none of them are associated with our primary objective. What we have is a sanction for a specific individual, who may be a key figure behind these assaults."

The next picture was of the Rift, the Praetorian dimensional teleporter, under heavy guard by TEST Rangers. "We will proceed to this 'Primal Earth' and attempt to capture or kill this individual. We will be operating without any sort of backup, and without any equipment besides what we bring with us or can scavenge. It is an undercover operation, the blackest of the black.

The image changed to that of the blue-haired man. "Officer Connor Boone, codename Spellcheck. Your work with the Paranormal Special Operations Branch is exemplary. I consider the reprimands in your file to be meritorious, not detrimental. You and I both know that uncontrolled magic is extremely dangerous to the state, and I consider your excessive use of force to be totally justified." The bald man looked a bit nervous at this statement. Jonathan continued, "Our target may not be a magician per se, but he has certainly been touched by extranormal powers. Your insights will be invaluable."

The image de-rezzed, and a three-dimensional representation of the bald man appeared. "Investigator King Solomon Jones. Licensed magician, first class, specialist in summoning, binding, and channeling. Reports indicate that background magic counts are much higher on Primal Earth, and your spells should be that much more potent. Your flexibility and experience beyond that of the usual Praetorian investigator will prove most useful. I expect that Officer Boone will manage to treat you with respect during the mission, and that you will do the same."

Boone raised his hand. "Yes, officer?" Jonathan inquired.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, I am curious as to your special qualifications. You seem to know a lot more about Investigator Jones and myself than we know about you," Boone said respectfully.

Jonathan smiled. "I have transdimensional experience and a thorough knowledge of our target. You'll both be issued a dossier once we get there." He pulled up the last image.

"This is our target," Jonathan said. "He may not look like much, but he's smart, he's lucky, and his personal combat skills are second to none. He'll be a tough nut to crack. Final briefing will be after dimensionfall. Are there any questions?"

"Yeah," said Jones. "When do we get started?"

"We'll be leaving in twenty-two hours. Meet me here, and we will proceed," Jonathan answered.

Boone stood and saluted. "For the Emperor," he said.

Jonathan stood and returned the salute. "For the Emperor."

The two men left, and Jonathan smiled to himself. While he had dodged around the truth artfully...

...only the last bit had been an outright lie.

Part 3 - New characters


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