Edoc'sil
One day I'll find the words.
Okay, I took on board the comments. Changed up the POV (hopefully my grammar is more on point, maybe I can get some feedback on that because I'm really not sure.) what I'd like to know is:
Did I manage to instill the right amount of tension into the piece?
Do the asides work as internal monologue?
Is the journey to the bank too rushed?
And most importantly, is it more enjoyable?
P.S. @autodidact - I shamelessly stole parts of your rewrite and I hope you can forgive me.
P.P.S. Sorry mods, it's a bit over the word count at almost 1500 but I wanted to get to the same place as the other piece to make sure it all works.
Quartz-Silicon Rat draft 2
Looking out of my window to the park beyond I saw the sun lazily strike the tops of trees, setting them ablaze with golden light. Today’s the day. I downed the dregs of last night’s coffee, proceeded to the coat rack and slipped on the black and white chequered jacket. Tapping my pockets and feeling the sleeves, I spoke the mantra in my mind: it pays to be prepared.
I took a final glance in the mirror, I looked dashing in the black and white chequered suit. Brown hair cut short to the temples; I had the air of a young billionaire, perfectly crafted. I placed in my special contacts, my eyes turning from deep brown to a steel blue and the information hud filled my peripheral vision. I picked up the shiny metal briefcase and whistled through my teeth.
“Today’s the day.” I said to myself, and my voice barely cracked. I ran my free hand across my jaw, I’d shaved what little hair was there to smoothness. No more delays, and I stepped out of the door. The journey passed in a blur, elevator, entrance, walking, tube, walking. Then I was there, in front of the prestigious NationalCite Corp, its top eclipsed the sun. The glass walls reflected the grey of the surrounding buildings. Taking a deep breath, I went inside.
I was jostled by passers-by engrossed in their communicators, they didn’t even look up when they hit me. I passed through the large doors and onto the main floor of the biggest bank on the planet. This was a one stop shop for all things money, that’s why it contained the largest stock of physical currency, anywhere.
I purposefully strode towards the main security desk where several bored fat guards sat scanning people and watching the Z-Ray monitors. I bounced over to one of the desks.
“Open the briefcase, sir” Mumbled one of the portly sentries.
“Of course, my good man.” I replied, in a falsely booming voice. The guard looked at me quizzically. Oops maybe I over did it. He was still staring at me over the desk when he forcefully flicked open the metal box, and didn’t stop staring until he began probing its contents. I wasn’t particularly worried of course, I knew he wouldn’t find anything, I’d tested it myself.
“Right, here you go.” He gruffed, and pushed my briefcase back towards me. “Step through the scanner.” And with that he motioned for me to move on to the full body scanner. The scanner looked for any metal objects as well as anything that may be out of place on your body. I mentally crossed my heart and prayed to any god that would listen, that the suit did its job.
The machine whirred and spun around, the light matrix pouring over every inch of me. I only realised I had been holding my breath when the scanner stopped with a soft wooshing sound, I let it out with a sigh.
“These things always make me nervous, haha.” I stammered to the guard. He stared at me again coolly.
“Yeah. Whatever, move along.” With that anti-climactic sentence, I was through. Fools, that was too easy I chuckled to myself. I headed towards the centre of the building to the trading floor, and tangentially, my target.
It was swarming with people, running from place to place, shouting into their communicators and the video phones on the walls. I counted my footsteps as my shiny black shoes clicked across the white marble floor of the trading room, stopping precisely where I needed to be. Incidentally I was directly above the logo of NationalCite Corp, a squeezed planet gripped in a fist.
I pressed a hidden button on the handle of the briefcase, a small panel slide aside on the corner and twelve tiny ball bearings dropped. The spheres moved of their own volition, weaving in between the legs of the unaware traders until they were arranged in a circle around me, encompassing the logo of the Bank.
I pressed a second switch and studied the huge screens suspended in the air on the far side of the room. One by one, each stock began to descend, then fall, then plummet, their numbers telling a tragic tale for many. But not for me. Almost as one, they switched their attention away from their personal communicators and toward the screens that bore witness to the ruin the investors were supposedly about to suffer.
The experienced traders understood almost immediately, their manner changed from that of free-market competitors to the hysteria of panic. "Sell! Sell! Bloody sell!" came the shouts, "Cancel that last order, for God’s sake," shouted another.
The rest, slightly slower on the uptake, glanced from them to the screens suspended above. Then the uproar began, people surged towards the tellers on the far side of the room, or tried to claw through the crowd to get to the vid-phones on the walls.
Within seconds the place was a maelstrom and I stood calmly in the eye of the storm. With a quick look to my watch and a glance to make sure the logo was free of people; I pressed the third and final button on my briefcase. A huge explosion surrounded me, causing a black cloud to heave into the sky and a hail of rubble to fall. And then I was gone— through the hole where the NationalCite Corp logo once stood.
Unperturbed, I dusted off my suit, left the briefcase where it had fallen, squared my shoulders and calmly walked down the corridor I found myself in. Phase one complete. The noise of the chaos above grew fainter as I whispered a second count for each step. I stopped at a particular number, bent down, and pulled a concealed pen-like object from my shoe, pressing its nub.
In front of me appeared a wall of laser force, completely shielding the corridor from further intrusion. I touched the wall with the tip of my 'pen', gave a gentle push, and the laser beams began to reflect back to their origins. A series of muffled bangs later, one for each laser, and my way was clear.
Immediately, bullets ricocheted past me! Luckily, I was still partly hidden by the cloud of debris from the explosion. Damn, this was new, at least it pays to be prepared! In one smooth motion I ducked down, dropped the pen, and withdrew from my suit a small gas mask. Then rising upwards under a barrage of fire, I withdrew from my sleeve two plastic spheres, and rolled them towards the origin of the bullets. They split in two and vented a gas that quickly rendered the attackers unconscious. I waited for more gunfire. There was none, so I picked up the pen and after checking it over, slid it into my pocket.
I felt strangely relaxed, and why shouldn't I? Everything was going almost completely to plan. Phase two complete, now for the coup de grâce. At the far end of the corridor was a huge black vault door. You couldn't beat the simplicity of a basic, straight forward, heavy, steel door. It couldn't be hacked, and to blow it open would risk bringing the whole bank down on top of me. Those bankers were smart.
But not that smart thanking my mantra, as I sauntered up to it and ripped a button off my suit. Placing it onto the door, I turned my back and felt the heat of that brilliant bright light. It shone for about a minute, and during that time I heard the thundering sound of many boots coming down the corridor. I peaked out of the arm covering my face, withdrew the ‘pen’ from my pocket and pressed the nub again.
There was a distant hum and a flickering as the invisible forcefield reformed where it had been. As intended. The guards were armed and well-trained but they could do nothing as they watched me at work. They thumped on the laser wall, but it was pointless. The irony of being stopped by their own security measures was lost on them as they radioed a report to their superiors.
Then I drew a long plastic wire from my sleeve and folded it out to twice the length of my arm. Inserting it deep into the hole that the button had burned through the door. Swiftly, time was against me now, I began to work it into the innards of the lock, twisting, pushing, pulling.
A few seconds work and there came a definitive click. I ripped off my gas mask, flashed a grin at the guards still thumping on the forcefield and swung open the door.
Did I manage to instill the right amount of tension into the piece?
Do the asides work as internal monologue?
Is the journey to the bank too rushed?
And most importantly, is it more enjoyable?
P.S. @autodidact - I shamelessly stole parts of your rewrite and I hope you can forgive me.
P.P.S. Sorry mods, it's a bit over the word count at almost 1500 but I wanted to get to the same place as the other piece to make sure it all works.
Quartz-Silicon Rat draft 2
Looking out of my window to the park beyond I saw the sun lazily strike the tops of trees, setting them ablaze with golden light. Today’s the day. I downed the dregs of last night’s coffee, proceeded to the coat rack and slipped on the black and white chequered jacket. Tapping my pockets and feeling the sleeves, I spoke the mantra in my mind: it pays to be prepared.
I took a final glance in the mirror, I looked dashing in the black and white chequered suit. Brown hair cut short to the temples; I had the air of a young billionaire, perfectly crafted. I placed in my special contacts, my eyes turning from deep brown to a steel blue and the information hud filled my peripheral vision. I picked up the shiny metal briefcase and whistled through my teeth.
“Today’s the day.” I said to myself, and my voice barely cracked. I ran my free hand across my jaw, I’d shaved what little hair was there to smoothness. No more delays, and I stepped out of the door. The journey passed in a blur, elevator, entrance, walking, tube, walking. Then I was there, in front of the prestigious NationalCite Corp, its top eclipsed the sun. The glass walls reflected the grey of the surrounding buildings. Taking a deep breath, I went inside.
I was jostled by passers-by engrossed in their communicators, they didn’t even look up when they hit me. I passed through the large doors and onto the main floor of the biggest bank on the planet. This was a one stop shop for all things money, that’s why it contained the largest stock of physical currency, anywhere.
I purposefully strode towards the main security desk where several bored fat guards sat scanning people and watching the Z-Ray monitors. I bounced over to one of the desks.
“Open the briefcase, sir” Mumbled one of the portly sentries.
“Of course, my good man.” I replied, in a falsely booming voice. The guard looked at me quizzically. Oops maybe I over did it. He was still staring at me over the desk when he forcefully flicked open the metal box, and didn’t stop staring until he began probing its contents. I wasn’t particularly worried of course, I knew he wouldn’t find anything, I’d tested it myself.
“Right, here you go.” He gruffed, and pushed my briefcase back towards me. “Step through the scanner.” And with that he motioned for me to move on to the full body scanner. The scanner looked for any metal objects as well as anything that may be out of place on your body. I mentally crossed my heart and prayed to any god that would listen, that the suit did its job.
The machine whirred and spun around, the light matrix pouring over every inch of me. I only realised I had been holding my breath when the scanner stopped with a soft wooshing sound, I let it out with a sigh.
“These things always make me nervous, haha.” I stammered to the guard. He stared at me again coolly.
“Yeah. Whatever, move along.” With that anti-climactic sentence, I was through. Fools, that was too easy I chuckled to myself. I headed towards the centre of the building to the trading floor, and tangentially, my target.
It was swarming with people, running from place to place, shouting into their communicators and the video phones on the walls. I counted my footsteps as my shiny black shoes clicked across the white marble floor of the trading room, stopping precisely where I needed to be. Incidentally I was directly above the logo of NationalCite Corp, a squeezed planet gripped in a fist.
I pressed a hidden button on the handle of the briefcase, a small panel slide aside on the corner and twelve tiny ball bearings dropped. The spheres moved of their own volition, weaving in between the legs of the unaware traders until they were arranged in a circle around me, encompassing the logo of the Bank.
I pressed a second switch and studied the huge screens suspended in the air on the far side of the room. One by one, each stock began to descend, then fall, then plummet, their numbers telling a tragic tale for many. But not for me. Almost as one, they switched their attention away from their personal communicators and toward the screens that bore witness to the ruin the investors were supposedly about to suffer.
The experienced traders understood almost immediately, their manner changed from that of free-market competitors to the hysteria of panic. "Sell! Sell! Bloody sell!" came the shouts, "Cancel that last order, for God’s sake," shouted another.
The rest, slightly slower on the uptake, glanced from them to the screens suspended above. Then the uproar began, people surged towards the tellers on the far side of the room, or tried to claw through the crowd to get to the vid-phones on the walls.
Within seconds the place was a maelstrom and I stood calmly in the eye of the storm. With a quick look to my watch and a glance to make sure the logo was free of people; I pressed the third and final button on my briefcase. A huge explosion surrounded me, causing a black cloud to heave into the sky and a hail of rubble to fall. And then I was gone— through the hole where the NationalCite Corp logo once stood.
Unperturbed, I dusted off my suit, left the briefcase where it had fallen, squared my shoulders and calmly walked down the corridor I found myself in. Phase one complete. The noise of the chaos above grew fainter as I whispered a second count for each step. I stopped at a particular number, bent down, and pulled a concealed pen-like object from my shoe, pressing its nub.
In front of me appeared a wall of laser force, completely shielding the corridor from further intrusion. I touched the wall with the tip of my 'pen', gave a gentle push, and the laser beams began to reflect back to their origins. A series of muffled bangs later, one for each laser, and my way was clear.
Immediately, bullets ricocheted past me! Luckily, I was still partly hidden by the cloud of debris from the explosion. Damn, this was new, at least it pays to be prepared! In one smooth motion I ducked down, dropped the pen, and withdrew from my suit a small gas mask. Then rising upwards under a barrage of fire, I withdrew from my sleeve two plastic spheres, and rolled them towards the origin of the bullets. They split in two and vented a gas that quickly rendered the attackers unconscious. I waited for more gunfire. There was none, so I picked up the pen and after checking it over, slid it into my pocket.
I felt strangely relaxed, and why shouldn't I? Everything was going almost completely to plan. Phase two complete, now for the coup de grâce. At the far end of the corridor was a huge black vault door. You couldn't beat the simplicity of a basic, straight forward, heavy, steel door. It couldn't be hacked, and to blow it open would risk bringing the whole bank down on top of me. Those bankers were smart.
But not that smart thanking my mantra, as I sauntered up to it and ripped a button off my suit. Placing it onto the door, I turned my back and felt the heat of that brilliant bright light. It shone for about a minute, and during that time I heard the thundering sound of many boots coming down the corridor. I peaked out of the arm covering my face, withdrew the ‘pen’ from my pocket and pressed the nub again.
There was a distant hum and a flickering as the invisible forcefield reformed where it had been. As intended. The guards were armed and well-trained but they could do nothing as they watched me at work. They thumped on the laser wall, but it was pointless. The irony of being stopped by their own security measures was lost on them as they radioed a report to their superiors.
Then I drew a long plastic wire from my sleeve and folded it out to twice the length of my arm. Inserting it deep into the hole that the button had burned through the door. Swiftly, time was against me now, I began to work it into the innards of the lock, twisting, pushing, pulling.
A few seconds work and there came a definitive click. I ripped off my gas mask, flashed a grin at the guards still thumping on the forcefield and swung open the door.
Last edited:
Then I was there, in front of the prestigious NationalCite Corp, its top eclipsed the sun. The glass walls reflected the grey of the surrounding buildings. Taking a deep breath, I went inside.
