Writing The Mormonic Empire and the Downfall of Civilzation [PG-LV]

[Lafleur]

[COLOR=DarkRed]This is somthing I'm writing for my L.A class. It's due tomorrow (Well, actually, it was due for friday... but umm... ya...) and I decided I might see what you people think about it before handing it in - maybe make some changes. I have an idea for a better ending involving a chase scene and some explosions, but I, A, think that might be to violent for grade 9 L.A, and most importantly, B, I'm far to lazy.


[CENTER]The Mormonic Empire and the Downfall of Civilzation[/CENTER]

Marty Shanahan yawned, his breath visible in the frozen air. He?d been monitoring the location for over three hours now and, so far, the target had yet too show himself. The small display screen in front of his face, wirelessly linked too the rifle?s long-range cameras, was showing an image of the tent of Dr. Bachman, a man who had been causing no end of trouble for the Resistance. Marty coughed and repositioned the rifle-butt into a more comfortable position.

When he became bored of watching nothing, he telepathically switched the monitor to a game of Tele Pong, which is basically pong played without knobs, switches, buttons, any kind of physical control, actually. After another ten minuets of this, Marty realized just how dull Pong was, and switched back too the monitor.

The image flickered back just in time for Dr. Bachman too step out of the tent, puffing on a lit cigar. Marty reacted quickly, positioning himself for the shot. He lightly squeezed the trigger and put his eye too the scope. The Doctor?s entourage was there, as well, a few big name scientists and military leaders, but no one worth Marty?s time. The electronic scope zeroed in on the Doctor?s head?



Marty had picked his perch carefully. He?d picked a tall building that had been abandoned ever since the Mormonic Uprising. It was tall, inconspicuous, and was a perfect vantage point. Furthermore, it was near the extraction point. One needed only activate one?s repulsar jets and float down the 25-story-building, land softly on the ground, and make for the cover of trees. Marty did this now.

In a flurry of movement, Marty jumped up, swung the rifle on his shoulder, and took a running leap off the roof. He mentally activated his repulsar jets, and floated down as a feather would, caught in small breeze. Marty met the ground with an effortless stride, mentally deactivating his repulsars and breaking for the woods in full flight.

He was under cover quickly enough, pushing his way through the snow banks. Pausing, he switched the eye-display too a small real-time map. It showed his location and the location of the Olympos-Class Armoured Personal Carrier which was supposed to be his pickup.

It took another half-hour of stumbling around in the pitch-dark forest before Marty finally reached the road, and the Olympos-Class Armoured Personal Carrier that was his extraction.

Marty had never seen an Olympos-Class up close and personal. They were the Resistance?s new toy. They?d purchased the plans from a neutral party in this conflict, and had put them into production as soon as they could. It?s nearly impossible to describe an Olympos-Class accurately, but a good one-word description would be, simply, ?Fortress?. Because that?s what it was intended to be ? a personal, mobile fortress that could bring troops to the front line, beat the hell out of the enemy, and take a beating ? all in one mission. The craft itself was roughly square, but there are so many things covering it - cannons, gun ports, entrance-exit hatches, vents, a whole array of menacing objects ? that it?s hard to tell. The whole monstrously menacing craft floated just above the ground on heavily modified repulsar jets.

As he approached in the dark, the back hatch opened. A large man in an improvised officer?s uniform stepped out, an H&K AWF Mk.II tucked against his forearm, a plethora of grenades and sidearms adorning his massive frame. Disconcertingly, the man wore a huge grin on his bearded face. He beckoned.

?Cold out, eh?? the still-smiling officer said as Marty walked into the warm craft.

?Ah, deathly cold! Guessing it?d kill Ripper and his boys too give me a mission during the warm months.? Marty said with a hearty, good-natured laugh, as the officer extended his hand. Marty took it and shook good-naturedly.

?Name?s Berard.? The officer said. ?Now, let?s get the hell out of here before your friends join us.?

Marty didn?t think twice about climbing into the back after Berard.

The inside of an Olympos-Class is at least as impressive as the outside. It?s surprisingly bright, the surfaces well polished, comfortably warm, and comfortable-looking chairs lined the walls. There were four more men inside, and, Marty assumed, one or two more beyond the far door, in the cockpit.

As soon as the hatch behind Marty closed, the craft silently started forward. With the grim satisfaction of another job well done, Marty rested his rifle on the floor, yawned loudly, and fell asleep as the Olympos-Class picked up speed.

END

I'm also trying too think of a better title, because that one is just a recycled term from an old idea, and I can't come up with a better one. Any ideas would be appreciated.[/COLOR]