Can someone sticky this? Thanks. :P
okay, I have taken this particular bull by the horns, and our friends at Rebellion HQ have agreed to give a graphic novel to the winner. PLUS, I will draw the name of a random VOTER to also receive one!
SO... there is actual impetus to have a go, and to vote as well, as we all love FREE STUFF :D
This month's comp will run until the 25th of February.
Each story (or poem if you like) must be NO LONGER THAN 500 WORDS, so edit carefully.
The title is: "TALES FROM CITI DEF"
Good luck, and may your Grud go with you...
Alski, you are a star. :)
Tales from the Citi-Def: The Girl from 14B
We are a tight unit, the Monty James Citi-Def. Not like those drokkers from Sue Hill block. We had the right training, the right kit, and we have a code. We're the good guys who did the right thing, and didn't go in for the petty squabbles that wrecked other units on chaos day.
The Hall of Justice gave us just one Jay and one cadet. We worked through the block floor by floor and on each level the Judge read the riot act, or the warning to the furious as old Miller called it. Then we started our sweep: terminating the sick, testing the healthy, and tipping the bodies over the balconies into the catch nets. It was rough.
We were on level 27 and Judge Straub had stopped us for a 5 minute break. I heard Miller call out "Hey, Miss. You shouldn't be out here".
I turned around and saw a young girl of about 12 wearing pyjamas. The hallway was filled with blood, smoke and broken glass. It was not a safe place for a child to be wandering around barefoot. Miller moved towards her with his hands open and empty. As he stepped in front of me I lost sight of her.
Miller stopped, "Huh! Where did she go?" The corridor was empty again. We checked the corners and the stairwells but found nothing. Straub pulled us back on track, "Can't waste time looking for one child. We've got a job to do."
Two floors up and she was there again, standing and pointing silently upwards. Straub waved his gun and told her to stay where she was, but then the light must have tricked me or some smoke covered her because she just faded from view.
It was on level 30 that we finally tracked her down. She was standing outside the door to 14B, and for the first and only time she spoke, "He's behind the door and knows you are coming. He's so angry."
And then she was gone again. The Jay spoke briefly to his cadet and they used a shaped charge which hurled the door back into the apartment. Straub was fast but the red eye was still a handful, the cornered ones always were. I managed to grab the guy from behind and then the Cadet finished the job with a single shot..
Amidst the wreckage were the signs that a happy family had once lived here. We found the wife in one bedroom, and in the other the little girl. The crazed red eye had killed them both.
"That's her." I said. Straub reckoned we were just confusing one child with another but all the MJs knew the truth.
We still see her from time to time. A glimpse in the corner of an eye, a fleeting reflection in a window. She doesn't mean us any harm, in fact she's a sort of mascot now, but not one that we like to talk about.
Nice job, and a perfect start...
"Monty james?" - Who dat?
Quote from: Alski on 23 January, 2014, 08:06:47 PM
Nice job, and a perfect start...
"Monty james?" - Who dat?
Montague Rhodes James, judging by the subject matter. Nice little reference, eamonn, and great story!
Might even have a go myself later.
All you prize hounds! Well we were contributin' when it was worth nothin'!
greed is good!
Quote from: Dark Jimbo on 23 January, 2014, 08:10:16 PM
Quote from: Alski on 23 January, 2014, 08:06:47 PM
Nice job, and a perfect start...
"Monty james?" - Who dat?
Montague Rhodes James, judging by the subject matter.
yup M.R.James it is
Also Susan hill! Jonathan Miller and Peter Straub in there.
Quite please with myself for the warning to the furious gag.
"We Can Rebuild Him"
Roger both hated and loved channel 25874. In every City Block it was reserved for the Citi Def forces, and in Stan Lee Block Citi Def was a very serious business.
"Stan Lee Citi Def Needs YOU!" bellowed the voice over, as images of heroic citizens scrolled across the screen. Hand to hand combat, ludicrously powerful weapons, glamorous uniforms... Stan Lee Citi Def had it all, and Roger wanted a part of it, if only it were possible.
Roger, you see, was a wimp. There really is no other way to describe him, because where other people had muscles, Roger had none, where they had a six pack, Roger had a nice cup of tea. He was five foot two, wore the sort of glasses Juves just loved to steal off of him (before putting them on and going "Whoa!!! How bad's yer eyes, wimp?"), and lived with his mother. The only job he'd ever got was a practise dummy for the Jessica Fletcher Block Eldsters Self Defence Class. He couldn't keep it, though, as he couldn't even stand up when the padding had been put on him.
But today was going to be different. Roger knew in his heart that his big break was coming, and this was to be the day when he walked into the Citi Def recruitment office and wasn't laughed right back out again, all thanks to Dr Einstein.
Roger knocked tentatively on the door, which was almost immediately opened by Dr Einstein, who looked every inch the mad scientist.
"Are you alone?" he asked.
"Yes," said Roger. "Just like you asked."
"And no one knows you are here?"
"No. You said you have enemies, right?"
"Oh yes," conformed Dr Einstsin, a manic glint in his eyes. "If the Jays find out what I am doing they will take me away and force me to work for them. Come in, please."
Roger entered the apartment and did a double take. Everywhere there was scientific equipment, from bubbling beakers to a large, lighting generator, like something out of the old 2d vids his Ma liked to watch.
"On the table, please, quick smart," ordered Dr Einstein. "Time waits for no man, and neither does Citi Def glory, eh?"
"Um..." said Roger, eying the very large needle the doctor was now holding. "this IS safe, isn't it? I mean, you will make me into a, um..."
"Super soldier."
"Yes, a super soldier. It won't, well... it won't hurt much, will it?"
"Tch!" Exclaimed Dr Einstein. "Just a little prick, is all, then when you wake up it will be all muscles and things like that. You will be a captain of Citi Def, they will call you Captain Stan Lee or somesuch. Now hurry, no time to waste!"
Five minutes later, it was all over. Dr Einstein had injected Roger Stevenson with his "Super Serum", in reality an invention of his own that killed the brain stone dead whilst preserving the internal organs perfectly. Thanking Grud for gullible idiots, he took out his scalpel and got to work, for as the saying goes: "Be careful in Mega City, or your stupidity just might cost you an arm and a leg (and a kidney, and your eyes, and a liver, heart and probably testicles as well).
Nice reversal, Alski
Tales from the Citi-Def: The Wall.
By Bolt-01
Tradition, commitment, responsibility. All of these were in Grey Scuffles mind when he arrived at the block departure gate. Fifteen minutes to prep before the latest shift. At least the sun was shining.
The light from the recently repaired windows showed the ruined skyline of Mega-City One stretching from horizon to horizon. In the distance the eastern wall was the only thing protecting this sector from the pounding of the Black Atlantic. Since Chaos day Grey and his team were all that stood between the polluted filth outside the wall and the festering remains of the sector inside. It was getting pretty difficult to determine which would suffer the most pollution if the wall broke.
The Citi-def of Noah Vosen were old hands at maintaining the city wall in this sector. They had first been called upon in the aftermath of the Apocalypse war, back when Ralph Wojniak was chief. The entire unit had rebuilt, repaired and generally maintained a two mile stretch ever since. They had even gotten a commendation from Chief Judge Silver just two weeks before the Necropolis kicked off.
The main kit Grey was going to need today was the Moc-syn Crete web-spray and spreader. The spreader was still half blocked from the last time it was used, but it would be another two shifts before the contract droid from Moc-syn extrusions arrived to service it. "It would have to do," as Grey's father was fond of saying.
It was his father's wish that Grey take up a spot in the Citi-Def, forever removing Grey from the preferred option of Munce washer down at the local processing plant. The plant was the largest employer in the tri-block area, with 6 humans on staff covering shifts lasting all of 3 hours a month. It was a well regarded and highly sought after position, but Dad had other plans.
Grey first saw action in the second robot war, and was actually there to bear witness when the Judges stormed the block plaza. That was a long day, the citi-def lost almost a third of their total man-power in that one day. The wall suffered for month after till the new block tenants arrived and replenished their strength.
The servo lift up to the wall repair crawler was out again, so Grey had to climb the fifteen flights up to the wall section closest to the latest leaks, luckily the crete-spreader was mobile enough to be able to make its own way. These days, Grey didn't have the man-power left to carry the gear.
From out here on the wall, with the sun shining in the haze over the polluted wastes of the Black Atlantic, the city almost looked normal, the towers of the inner sectors shone brightly with potential. Even dear old Noah Vosen looked good from here.
Time to get started- the wall won't look after itself after all. Grey Scuffle turned and activated the spreader. The loneliest Citi-def in the sector, only twelve hours till shift change...
Grim and gritty. Like it
If anyone wants to turn their short into a 5-6 page script, I'd be happy to draw it up for them.
I've an old, rejected Future Shock that I'd be curious to see drawn up...
Happy to take a look. Email is enginecomics@hotmail.com.
I'll send it over, see what you think!
Maybe we could merge the comps, print up previous winners and have them drawn up!
I do like the idea of having a bunch of Citi-Def centric stories to draw up, would make a nice little anthology.
Let's hope we get some more entries then
Tales from Citi-Def: The Carousel -- set during the Apocalypse War.
"The last bullet?"
"Yes," he said.
"But you said you'd save that for me," she replied. "Big romantic gesture, remember, sir?"
"I know but—"
"—but we've a job to do, right?"
"Right." He had tried to kill her a week earlier but now the former shuggy hall waitress in the Richard Widmark Citi-Def helmet was the only person he knew who was still alive. He patted his pockets for more bullets even though there weren't any there before closing one eye and looking through the sight of his rifle.
"I used to batglide from here when I was a girl, sir. Bad crosswind over there, above the pedway. And I'd land in the playground next to the Bedford Square parkarama"—she zoomed her scope in, focussing a mile and a half down—"where those Sovs are."
"Four Sovs, one bullet—who gets it?"
"The one on the left—the tall one—the one who's standing right where I used to stand, sir, when I was waiting for my daddy to collect me after I'd landed."
"So this is personal, then?"
"As good as, sir."
"Consider it done."
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Try not to blow his brains out over the carousel. Juves'll never play there again if there's been brains on the carousel."
"Are you serious?"
"Never been more serious, sir. That's why I joined Citi-Def—to protect the city."
"One moment. My eyes are tired." He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He'd only joined Sidney Poitier Citi-Def because he liked holozines featuring women with big bazookas. But to be confronted by real women with big bazookas when his platoon stormed the foyer of Widmark was a different matter—it was all a blur—screams, explosions, the wet, slapping sound that half of his corporal made as he landed next to him, the churning in his stomach and the dryness in his throat when he realised that he was the only one who retreated when he gave the order, the stench like rotten Munce when he skidded on someone's spilt intestines—and what made it worse was that he couldn't remember why they'd attacked in the first place.
"And," she went on, "I know the cavalry aren't coming—we've not seen a Judge in two days—but we can't give up; not now, not ever. It's our city down there. Citi-Def's all that left, sir. We clear the playground first, then—" She shrugged. "We have to hold out until the Texans or Brits get here—and they will, trust me, because we'd do the same for them."
"We're fighting a war with one bullet between us."
"I know, sir."
He looked back through the sights. "Call the shot."
"Wind speed: eight knots. Distance: 2,657 yards. High humidity. Aim high and to the left. No, farther to the left."
"We run for cover as soon as I fire".
She nodded.
He pulled the trigger.
He was running before the Sov fell but she waited to check that there was no blood on the carousel.
Gosh darnit -- I can't re-edit my post above. Sorry for the sort-of double-post.
The below-the-word-limit version is below:
"The last bullet?"
"Yes," he said.
"But you said you'd save that for me," she replied. "Big romantic gesture, remember, sir?"
"I know but—"
"—but we've a job to do, right?"
"Right." He had tried to kill her a week earlier but now the former shuggy hall waitress in the Richard Widmark Citi-Def helmet was the only person he knew who was still alive. He patted his pockets for more bullets even though there weren't any there before looking through the sight of his rifle.
"I used to batglide from here when I was a girl, sir. Bad crosswind over there, above the pedway. And I'd land in the playground next to the Bedford Square parkarama"—she zoomed her scope in, focussing a mile and a half down—"where those Sovs are."
"Four Sovs, one bullet—who gets it?"
"The one on the left—the tall one—the one who's standing right where I used to stand, sir, when I was waiting for my daddy to collect me after I'd landed."
"So this is personal, then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Consider it done."
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Try not to blow his brains out over the carousel. Juves'll never play there again if there's been brains on the carousel."
"Are you serious?"
"Never been more serious, sir. That's why I joined Citi-Def—to protect the city."
"One moment. My eyes are tired." He rubbed his eyes with his palms. He'd only joined Sidney Poitier Citi-Def because he liked holozines featuring women with big bazookas. But to be confronted by real women with big bazookas when his platoon stormed the foyer of Widmark was a different matter—it was all a blur—screams, explosions, the wet, slapping sound that half of his corporal made as he landed next to him, the churning in his stomach and the dryness in his throat when he realised that he was the only one who retreated when he gave the order, the stench like rotten Munce when he skidded on someone's spilt intestines—and what made it worse was that he couldn't remember why they'd attacked in the first place.
"And," she went on, "I know the cavalry aren't coming—we've not seen a Judge in two days—but we can't give up; not now, not ever. It's our city down there. Citi-Def's all that left, sir. We clear the playground first, then—" She shrugged. "We have to hold out until the Texans or Brits get here—and they will, trust me, because we'd do the same for them."
"We're fighting a war with one bullet between us."
"I know, sir."
He looked back through the sights. "Call the shot."
"Wind speed: eight knots. Distance: 2,657 yards. High humidity. Aim high and to the left. No, farther to the left."
"We run for cover as soon as I fire".
She nodded.
He pulled the trigger.
He was running before the Sov fell but she waited to check that there was no blood on the carousel.
Tales From The Citi-Def - I hate You Butler by Beeks
Blakey had never been the most popular of Citi-Def Commanders, but then he never wanted the role in the first place..I mean who would? An unruly, uncouth ill disciplined rabble is the only way he could describe the citizens of the Olive Rudge Block and although he had resigned himself to this life since he failed at the academy of law..it was still a bitter pill to swallow
He perused the latest judge report on the crime figures in his sector and frowned..it was up..0.38736% since the last quarter and coincidentally since Butler Bartholomew and his family of fatties had moved into level 347
Food crime, communal damage, unexplained citizen flattenings, castor wheel theft..it all pointed to Butler..he just had to catch him in the act..
It wasn't just crime that Butler seemed interested in..a steady stream of street juve girls were always round his apartment.,it made Blakey's skin crawl at the thought
'I think it's time I paid you a visit Butler..' He whispered to himself..
10 minutes later he was rapping at the door with his holo torch
The door slid open and Butler rolled into view, 800lbs of fat propelled by a mechanical belly wheel
'Whachew want Blakey? Shouldn't you be out hunting chump dumpers?'
Butler grinned mischievously..a twinkle in his pudgy eye..
'I'm onto you Butler'
The comically gaunt figure of Blakey retorted
The door slid shut in his face leaving the City-Def man staring at bare metal..
The fat man in the apartment turned his attention back to the Umpty he had secreted in the wall compartment..He made a guttural noise from his throat. He pushed his belly in and out from the diaphragm
Near him the young juve girl looked out of the barred window..already delirious from the effects of the candy..
She threw her head back..looking from the periphery at the headphones the fat man wore on his ears. It wasn't the headphones but the streamers from them of all colors- the kind of thing her youngest brother might stick on the handle bars of his bike.
Then she heard what sounded like a voice. She was not preoccupied at the moment but soon enough would be and until that time became fascinated by the fact that the fat man was mumbling to himself or she believed it to be mumbling- a distinct mumble without words or several words hunched together like oversexed perps..frozen in a voyeurs camera. A small grin crossed her pretty, oval face. It was unpainted and pretty, early exotic but plain too as though she had tried many things but had finally given up out of failure to live up to a fleeting image of herself years before. She dropped to the floor..
The fat man turned..The words were forming at his lips hobbling..he swallowed the Umpty..His eyes shut and he seemed to grip inside himself with a kind of frenetic tension that was unnoticed unless they looked up closely and for a long time, looking at his neck quiver and bulge..
He took out the cleaver and began the dismemberment..
On the other side of the door Blakey turned to walk away..just another humiliation in a line that stretched all the way to his youth and the hall of justice..but just as he made the first footfall a sound..
An unhinged yelp of glee eminating from Butlers residence..followed by a hack hack hacking sound..
Blakey pressed his ear to the door..something wasn't quite right..he rapped on the door once more..
'Butler! What you up to you orrible little fattie?!'
*silence*
'Butler I've got a security pass..I'm coming in if you don't open your door immedia...'
*Swish*
The door slid open and Butler buried the cleaver into Blakey's neck severing it virtually clean through..crimson patterned the air..he fell forward into the welcoming arms of the fattie..
'I ate you Butler' Blakey sighed in his last breath..
'No Blakey..I ate you'
The door slid shut
Well done guys, more the merrier.
i need to write a better one myself.
Here goes:
Merchantable Services
We all knew something went on in 3615, but not what.
Whenever you were on the main desk, day or night, you'd see a stream of visitors stopping on 36. Rosakis, my CitiDef commander, thought it was just regular slab walkers, making a few credits without having to worry about Weather Control screwing up again. The client demographic seemed off to me, too constant and diverse for a couple of walkers in one small apartment, but he got annoyed whenever I said anything. I guess demographic is pretty fancy talk for an unemployed robot repairbot repairman.
Still, I was curious. When we heard about an upcoming inspection, I volunteered to go and evict them, at least temporarily. Rosakis just shrugged and returned to his sandwich.
I met a few of the regular clientele on the way, but they didn't seem embarrassed. One juve even waved as he passed.
I found the door to 3615 wide open and walked in. The main room was empty.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
"In the bedroom."
She sounded a lot older than I expected, even for a specialist, and I wondered if I'd got the wrong apartment.
"Ma'am?"
"It's fifty credits for ten minutes dear. Come through when you're ready."
That settled it. I pushed open the bedroom door and walked in, steeling myself for whatever obscenity might be waiting.
It turned out to be an old lady, sitting on a floral couch, her knitting on her lap. When she looked up and smiled at me, I felt like a child.
"Would you like a cup of tea dear?"
She patted the seat beside her and I found myself sitting automatically.
"Um. No. Thank you. Ma'am, I'm with Gideon Osbourne Block CitiDef."
She clapped her hands, beaming.
"Wonderful! I hoped you'd come and see me - You boys must have such a terribly hard time."
I tried to think of an answer, but before I could, she slipped her arms around me and pulled me to her meager bosom.
"There there, it's alright. Granma loves you."
I wanted to speak but all I managed was a strangled sob. I couldn't remember ever being held by someone who didn't want anything in return, someone who would hold me like a baby and love me just as I was. If this was what she offered to the citizens of Gideon Osbourne then no wonder she was doing such a roaring trade; basic human tenderness was the rarest commodity in the place.
Tears streamed down my face as she sang a half remembered lullaby and stroked my hair, and I clumsily folded my arms around her tiny form, holding on for dear life.
Half an hour later, I made my way back to the main desk and checked in.
"Gone already?"
Rosakis frowned at me.
"Yeah, guess they got word too. Place is deserted."
He shrugged.
"Fair enough. Quitting time then. Another heavy night of book learnin'?"
I shook my head.
"Not tonight. I've got my granma staying at mine."
Thank you karl - a late but welcome entry!
Will get the voting thread up tomorrow if I remember :o
Redbaz, sorry to bother you, mate, but I have an idea for a script that I'd like to run by you, see if you think it's make a halfway decent strip worth drawing up? It's set in the 2012 Dreddverse...