Sunday, April 6, 2014

Camp NaNo Day 6: Disorientation

I didn't manage to write anything yesterday -- though I have a story started that I will hopefully finish tomorrow, along with another story, so that I can catch up.  We'll see.  In the meantime, I came up with a story idea tonight and wrote the entire thing in about two hours, 1,191 words.  My friend Matt supplied a great title for it.  Here's the first part of what I just wrote:

Mark A Davis

A World War II battleship sat in an abandoned aircraft hanger outside of Cleveland.  How it got there unnoticed was anyone's guess, but clearly people had been busy retrofitting it.  It had wings -- four massive steel structures with jet engines attached, and giant turbine engines.  Workers crawled over it, adding finishing touches including a fresh coating of black paint.
On the deck, several hundred men were gathered.  These were clearly the sort for whom the word "bruiser" had been coined -- big, powerful guys who bore the scars of past fights and were likely to get in many future brawls.  They were probably not quite suitable for the U.S. Military, but would make excellent mafia mooks.
On the aft deck several stories up stood a young man.  He wore a form-fitting black outfit over which silver symbols floated, like mathematical formulae that were constantly rewriting themselves.  He leaped to the top of the rail and stepped out into space -- and drifted down to the gathered men.  He continued to float several feet in the air before them.  A small holographic computer followed him around.
"Greetings, gentlemen," he said.   "My name is Kid Calculus.  Perhaps you've heard of me?"
Most of them stared up blankly.  One said, "Here, you're one of them League of Former Sidekick types."
"Indeed," replied Kid Calculus.  "Obviously I've left them behind.  I'm moving up, gentlemen.  My plans are too big to be contained by a league of former sidekicks.  Unlike them, I've embraced the fact that I am a villain.  I want to make waves.  I want to be feared by all.  I want the world to tremble before my might!"
His voice had increased in volume until he was yelling.  A huge cheer went up from the assembled men.  Kid Calculus raised his fists, grinning.  But one man spoke up.  "Kid Calculus?" he said.  "I'm supposed to fear a name like that?  Not Doctor Calculus or Baron Calculus?  You want me to work for someone who calls himself Kid Calculus?"
Kid Calculus drew a gun and fired.  The mook in question slumped to the deck.  The villain demanded, "Are there any other complaints about my name?  No?  Good."
In a calmer voice Kid Calculus said, "Now, I know you were all blind hires -- I guess that's pretty standard in this business, but this is my first time doing this sort of thing.  Anyway, I want to welcome you all aboard my new flying fortress and base of operations!  Not to mention your new home!   From these decks, gentlemen, we will rain terror down on an unsuspecting populace!"
There was another loud cheer.  Kid Calculus smiled again, but another voice spoke up.   "You call this a flying fortress?  It's just a rusting old ship.  I've worked for Baron Climate Change, now there's a man who knows how to build a flying fortress...."
Kid Calculus tapped his holographic keypad.  A dimensional door opened up beneath the mook, who disappeared through it.  The door instantly closed.
"Where'd he go?" someone asked.  "Where'd you send him?"
"To the moon," Kid Calculus replied.  "That should provide a nice little conundrum for whichever space agency finds his corpse.  Now, did you all get your employee handbooks?  I want you to read those very carefully -- punishments for violating the rules can be quite severe."  He laughed, and added, "I am of course not joking....

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