My ATS Story

ww:hey!! school first. you could have waited till you were done with your finals tomorrow...but never the less good stuff, now get back to studying and good luck.

Gotta agree. NOW HIT THE BOOKS. good luck.

Thanks for all the support... Just me and a can of monster, and junk on my back...

Yeha, yeah, obscure reference I shouldn't have made. Thanks for the support, ya'll. I'll try to get it done. This is the last exam until the 27th...so lots of writing until then.

DE

Liberation eh? I like

And good luck with those exams, I have some too: one on monday, two on tuesday and the last one on thursday then I'm done untill next september!!!

Chapter 30: Hush

DE strapped on his flakjacket quietly, slapping the velcro straps into place. The raid was sudden, unexpected, and in Deus�s eyes rather reckless. Pocketing a few more shotgun shells, he patted himself down. His pockets held a clip each, and a combat webbing held two more and some more shells. He only wore pants, flakjacket and boots despite the chilling weather- ease of mobility was more important. AT any rate, the temperatures were still bearable, but it would be one of the last days. The trees were mostly striped of leaves. Shouldering his shotgun, he balanced the load across his shoulders carefully. Looking out the window briefly, then around his room, he left and closed the door behind him.

Outside, what greeted him almost made him laugh. This was summer�s last dance alright. Under the noon sun, it was almost seventy. A line of Hummers, pickups and vans were lined up, convoy style. Around them sprawled the bunker�s fighting arm, lounging under the sun on rustling leaves. A shower earlier had dried up quickly, leaving the air ultra-humid. Those who had them, smoked. It was a rite, used to ward off bad luck. Smoke �em if you got �em, enjoy it because you might not come back. Almost a third of the bunker�s soldiers were outfitted in either body armor, had an M-16, or both. Many were dressed like him- blue jeans or captured camo, flakjacket and boots. To boot, one of the trucks was blasting Jefferson Airplane, giving the entire scene an eerie Vietnam-ish quality. Everyone stood around and did as little as possible. Just as Deus began to advance towards the convoy, TDH burst out of the house.

�Touman! Get your asses into the infirmary!�

�Huh?�

�INFIRMARY! NOW!�

Everyone jumped to their feet, pounding towards the house. Running down the stairs full-tilt at the head of the troopers, Deus leapt the last five stairs, staggered and flailing as he struggled to keep his balance. He brought his shotgun up as he threw himself through the door. Most of the patients huddled on their beds, incapable of action but defiant none the less. A man was backing towards Deus, feet shuffling oddly and arms out in front of him.

�FREEZE!�

The man whipped around at the sound of DE�s oddly strangled voice. Before him was Parrhesia, held by the throat. A large, weatherbeaten hand held a pair of surgical scissors to her windpipe. Deus felt other bunkermates brush past him, heard them snap their weapons up and draw a bead on the man. Looking a little closer, Deus recognized him. It was the unconscious man from town.

�Who are you?� he barked. Springer looked at Deus , starring down the barrel of an M16. The center of the Man�s head was dead in his sights.

�I�m Chr...Deu...doesn�t matter. Put the scissors down, so we can talk.�

�Where am I? Who are you people? Take one more step and I�ll #ing kill her!�

�Calm down. We can talk this through.�

�NO! Let me the # out!�

�Okay...who are you, buddy?�

�Shut UP! MOVE!�

�Deus, I can put one through his brainpan,� Springer muttered tensely.

�No,� he replied, �Might hit Parr.�

To either side of him, bunker soldiers fanned out looking for a shot.

�Listen. I�m DeusEx. Who�re you? I�m sure we can talk this through.�

�I�m...I am...I am... Star...Starchild?�

The man seemed to be asking himself the question more than replying to it. His eyes darted back and forth, sweat beading on his forehead. His muscles bulged, scissors held tight.

�Starchild? As in THE Starchild? Dude, it�s me!�

�Where am I? Who are you? Back off, mother#er!�

�DeusEx, omae! Put that # down...you�re among friends. That�s Parrhesia you�re manhandling.�

�Really? What? Who...�

�This is our bunker. Calm your ass down.�

�Yeah?�

�Yeah. Put that # away.�

Deus slowly lowered his weapon. He beckoned for the others to do the same, but they didn�t. Starchild looked warily around, and slowly removed dropped the scissors. Letting go of the girl, he backed away and kneeled, putting his hands on his head. Finally, the others present lowered their weapons. Parr scampers away, holding her throat and glaring at SC.

�Mother#er. I�m fine Deus, thanks for asking.�

�Sorry. At least you�re okay, right?�

�Sure.�

Leaving RANT in charge, Deus began the ascent back up to the waiting convoy. His shotgun slung over his shoulder, the other soldiers walked beside him, patting his shoulder in congratulations. They walked up those stairs, adrenaline running high. By the time they got into the backs of trucks and van, they were all looking tired. The buzz had left them. However, one of the older drivers (most probably the one who had been playing the Jefferson Airplane earlier) had decided to blast CCR as they drove off, sending the men and women jostling and bumping. No matter how hard he tried, Deus couldn�t stop grinning. Suddenly, he had flashbacks to watching �Platoon� with his father. Then, a hush fell over him. The campiness was no longer a laughing matter. He was in a war.

Suddenly, he felt all alone...and cold. Despite having refound a friend, nothing could make up for the losses he had suffered. The hush spread over everyone, and continued for the miles until the drop off.



This one's dedicated to SC...enjoy!

DE

awesome again. i really loved the imagery in the convoy, and the music added a nice touch to it.

This is getting real interesting, too bad I'm in the infirmary with a broken leg I guess I'm sitting this one out.

Looking good, DE.

Nice to see you used CCR as the music for the convoy too. Gives me an idea to work from

[Edited on 4/19/2004 by TheDemonHunter]

My next chapter, Run Through The Jungle, has been posted as a follow up to Chapter 30 from Deus.

Chapter 31: Blood and Water

Deus rested his head against the passenger side window of the older Toyota pickup. His skull rattled against the glass as the truck jarred across the rough roads, but he was still lost in thought. The trees whizzed by him as Colonel tapping on the wheel, leading the convoy in. Music blared as he tapped away, sometimes looking and grinning at Deus. DE merely smiled weakly back, not putting much thought into it. The weight of remembering was getting to be a heavy burden on him.

There was a brief stop as the snipers unloaded, four of the Devils among them-Keenkid, Gothique, Worldwatcher and Amantine . Gothique smiled gently at Deus before disappearing into the brush. Saucerat had been left behind for obvious reasons. After the brief pause, the Colonel began to drive slowly, grinding down the road at a snail�s pace. It was about seven hundred feet to the main gate, two hundred before the main gate. It was the Colonel, DE, Baked, Agent 47, and four green recruits either from Springer�s boys or freshly volunteered for the mission in the lead pickup. The was to be no deception on this run- the hummers were both too banged up to even run properly.

The line of four trucks idled just out of view. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Deus� sword was across his lap, shotgun between his legs. The soldiers waited as the snipers got into position with immense irritation. Agent47 tapped the glass at the back of the cab, gesturing for Deus to use his radio to contact TheDemonHunter. DE shook his head in response. The order had been for radio silence. Suddenly, a single shot rang out. Colonel slammed his foot down on the accelerator before anyone could react, the motor chugging and protesting as bits of gravel flew up behind the truck. A split second later, they had cleared the bend. TDH was screaming over the radio, as most of the soldiers on board the truck braced themselves.

�They shot someone, not us! #! Fire at will, someone�s gone and #ed this whole thing up.�

Glancing past the Colonel, Deus caught a few muzzle flashes from the woods. The Colonel�s teeth were bared as he cursed himself for his mistake. None the less, he drove on. A machine gun chattered in the distance. The Colonel�s foot was to the floor. No other vehicle followed as the eight men in that truck held on for dear life. They didn�t get far. The machine guns in the towers over up, shredding the hood of the truck, shattering the window. Deus�s arm went up instinctively. A few razor edges of pain crept into awareness, some on his face but most in his previously wounded arm. Behind him, everyone bailed and hid behind the now slowly rolling vehicle. Black, bilely smoke rose from the engine. Coughing, Deus looked to the Colonel, and was immediately horrifying. Blood splattered the interior of the car. The brave Colonel�s chest had all but imploded under the stream of bullets. In shock, Deus rolled out of the car. He fell face first onto the ground, vomiting.

His men popped off a few shots, pinned down in the middle of the open field. Soldiers had begun to advance, the weight of the suppressing fire keeping even the snipers in the woods pinned down. Deus rolled over, shotgun in hand. His men were screaming at him, begging for orders, advice, salvation. One took a bullet to the back of the head, sprawling out suddenly as life left his body. His knuckles white around his gun, he struggled to cope with the influx of adrenaline and fear. He was going to die. He knew it. It was going to be painful, and everything was going to end. A twinge of religion- something he had crusaded against since his teens- flared up, telling him he was going to go to hell. Gritting his teeth, he forced down the panic, breath by breath. Struggling to his knees, he wiped the acidic remains of breakfast from his lips and chin, leaning around the front of the now immobile truck. He emptied his shotgun in a matter of seconds, forcing the advancing soldiers to a halt. A grenade flew past them, exploding and showering them with dirt. Shrapnel pinged off the body of the truck.

Then, it happened. Like a bat out of hell, the other trucks roared to their rescue. The occupants fired wildly as a sniper�s bullet took the man in the tower who showered them with lead. Thumbing shells into the magazine of his long gun, Deus perked up to the cascade of sound.

�What the # are you waiting for? Up! UP!�

His men scrambled to their feet, returning fire of their own. Firing the three shells in the mag, he ditched the shotgun and drew his pistol and sword. Two of the other pickups shot past them. Another stopped, offloading more men. Some tended to the wounded, while others laid down fire of their own. Deus felt the anger rising again. The Colonel was dead. Another friend. And for what?

His loping strides carried him further than he expected as DE whipped out of cover, legs pumping and pistol firing. His world shook with the force of a hurricane as his sword glanced off the ground, muzzle flashes and cordite-scented fumes stinging his eyes. Before he knew it, he was halfway to the small group of the enemy. Ahead of him, he saw others breaking down the camp gate, prisoners revolting against their masters. The trucks sped on. His gun empty, he dropped it, right hand closing around the haft of his katana. Something seemed right about the feel of it as he launched himself forwards, blade flicking up from his side. It ducked beneath the body armor of the first man, momentum tearing it out the other side. He cloud hear pounding behind him, shots. But that didn�t matter. There was only anger that clouded his mind. His movements were fluid, one stroke melding into the next. Three men fell quickly, the other taking to their heels in short order. Two made it to the woodline. Only one remained behind.

The last man fired at him, and missed. DE shot forwards, two steps and then his blade thrust just below the chinstrap, severing it as the point of the sword sliced through the man�s windpipe and out the over side, ribbons of blood trailing down the silvery messenger of death. The man struggled at the end of his sword. The helmet fell off as he grasped the blade, cutting his finger to the bone. Deus�s rictus grin of pleasure and rage was reflected in the young man�s eyes. Behind the mask, the Gestapo tactics, the black armor and hatred lay a fifteen year old boy. Buzz cut hair and high cheekbones, the kid could have been a highschool athlete. Now, he was just a pawn. His shocked face gasped forgiveness and desperation. Before long, the struggling stopped and the blade withdrew. The eyes were dim, but still reflected DE�s astounded face.

They were still a watery blue, bright even in death.



Yes, at long last. The next chapter. I apologize, thigns came up. My schedule will now be more intermittent (ei random). However, soon I plan to add more to the story, and also notes such as what I was listening to at the time of the writing. Perhaps even revision is in the cards.

Oh well. Again, enjoy and apologies.

DE

Good stuff DE, graphic but really good.

Thanks, chummer. Actually, I was wondering... what songs do people think of when they read this story, aside form the ones listed?

DE

Fight scenes- Hells Bells.

The more sullen parts a song by Deep purple:
Song's name: Wasted Sunsets

The day is gone
When the angels come to stay
And all the silent whispers
Will be blown away
And lying in the corner
A pair of high heel shoes
Hanging on the wall
Gold and silver for the blues

One too many wasted sunsets
One too many for the road
And after dark the door is always open
Hoping someone else will show

Someone is waiting
Behind an unlocked door
Grey circles overhead
Empties on the floor
The cracks in the walls
Have grown too long
The slow hand is dragging on
Afraid to meet the dawn

One too many wasted sunsets
One too many for the road
And after dark the door is always open
Hoping someone else will show

I always seem to get 'Monkey Wrench' by the mighty Foo Fighters....

A systematic breakdown, by chapter, of the songs I played while writing:

Prelude: Blink 182-Action
Chapter 1: Baldur's Gate OST- Dawn in the village
Chapter 3: Rolling Stones- Painted Black
Chapter 4: The Pixies- Where is my Mind
Chapter 5: Yoko Kanno (off the Cowboy Bebop OST) - Tank!
Chapter 6: A Perfect Circle cover of Tool- Eulogy
Chapter 7: The Deus Ex Theme
Chapter 8: Kid Rock- Bawitdaba
Chapter 9: Drowning Pool- Bodies
Chapter 10: Tool-Schism
Chapter 11: Yoko Kanno (VoE OST)- Gloria
Chapter 12: Kansas- Dust in the Wind
Chapter 13: POD- Sleeping Awake
Chapter 14: Yoko Kanno (VoE OST)- Epistle
Chapter 15: Tapping the Vein- Crushing
Chapter 16: Tori Amos- Crucify
Chapter 17: 28 Days Later OST- East Hastings
Chapter 18: Hans Zimmer (Last Samauri OST)- Red Warrior
Chapter 19: Metallica- No Leaf Clover
Chapter 20: Prodigy- Breathe
Chapter 21: Micheal Hoenig (BG2 OST)- The Druid Grove
Chapter 22: Don Davis - Mona Lisa Overdrive
Chapter 23: Live- Overcome
Chapter 24: Finger Eleven- Thin Spirits
Chapter 25: Rob Dougan- Furious Angel
Chapter 26: Rammstein- Mein Herz Brennt
Chapter 27: Yoko Kanno (VoE OST)- Shadow of a Doubt
Chapter 28: Mecheal Hoenig (BG2 OST- Romance 1/2, Brian Tyler (Children of Dune OST)- We have only now
Chapter 29: Finger eleven- Temporary arms
Chapter 30: CCR- Fortunate Son
Chapter 31: Trantric- Breakdown


There is is....re-read it all if you dare, listening to it all. I'll admit some songs are crappy, but they serve a purpose. I figured I'd give everyone a window into my mind because I won't be able to update tommrow.

DE

What do I hear?

I have or will feature these songs in my story or can imagine them in your story and mine.

I hear:
Rush - Fly By Night, Freewill, Driven, Ghost Rider, Red Sector A, Red Barcheta, YYZ, 2112, Manhattan Project, Subdivisions, Cygnus X-1, La Villa Strangiato, Something For Nothing, Resist, Bravado, By-thor and the Snowdog
Dream Theater - Metropolis
Liquid Tesion Experiment - Three Minute Warning, Paradigm Shift
King Crimson - Level Five
Blur - M.O.R.
Deep Purple - Smoke on the water
CCR - Fortunate Son
Rolling Stones - Paint it Black
Max Webster/Rush - Battlescar
Pere Ubu - 30 Seconds Over Tokyo
Radiohead - Karma Police
Eagles - Hotel California
Queen - Another One Bites The Dust, Bohemean Raphsody
Led Zeppelin - Stairway to Heaven

And.... A Parody of "Don't copy that floppy" I've been working on:

Corporate Rap Guy - Corporate Propaganda Rap

... and many more fine songs

I will also star writting again soon I soon as I take care of a bunch of crap, I got back from uni too.

[Edited on 12-5-2004 by Ranger]

Reading these stories really gets my imagination going and so does the music I listen to when I read.

Here are some more songs that I think go well with our stories:
Rush - Anthem, Closer To The Heart, Lakeside Park, Bastile Day, A Farewell to Kings, Tom Sawyer

The Following are for French speaking ATS Story fans:
Grimskunks - Mange D'la Marde, Enfant De Chienne, Le Gouvernement Songe, Gros Tas De Marde
Jean Leloup - Le Dome

I can and will probably think of more songs.

[Edited on 13-5-2004 by Ranger]

And here's more once again!:

Chuck Mangione - Children Of Sanchez
Mike Curb Congregation - Burning Bridges
The Good, The Bad And The Ugly theme
The Doors - The End
Richard Wagner - The Ride Of The Valkyries

[Edited on 16-5-2004 by Ranger]

Chapter 32: The Sacrifice of Angels

DE collapsed as the shots faded in the distance, the battle largely over. All the exhaustion, the pain rushed back into his battered body. His face bled as his battered left arm sent waves of pain rolling through his awareness. His hands were bruised, and his left arm all but useless. His sword fell from nerveless hands as the world suddenly spun under rubbery legs. The ground feel cool under him, even as he thudded into it with painful force. A moment of wonder wandered across his mind like a lost raveller, taking in the scenery before moving on. Then suddenly it was all gone, overshadowed by concerned, bloody faces. He tried to lift his bad arm to fend them off, resulting in a flop of the tired muscles by his side. The sky was pretty, he thought, why were they ruining his view?

His head was cradled by something warm, resting against it at a bizarre angle. Calloused hands ran across his cheeks as Gothique�s face was shoved into view, a bandaid hanging off of her jaw. Finally, the voices reached his ears. A cacophony of garbled words rushed his senses, his head lolling from side to side. The slender fingers brushed away his hair as her tears exploded off his forehead. Then, everything quietly faded to black and he was alone again.

He found voices in the floating darkness. DE came to on a cot, eyes still closed as smaller, quieter voices filtered into his abused consciousness.

�-t there... you should have seen them. They were shot to hell and pinned down. Half the people in that truck ended up dead, but somehow he managed to get the rest through it.�

It was a female voice, unrecognizable. A memory stirred at the edge of his empty mind. The sound of cloth moving beside him.

�How did you see it all?�

Gothique�s voice- the sound of love, of sanctuary, of what is always wanted but never reached.

�I watched through the fence. #ing angel of death. I don�t know how they didn�t hit him, but some started to panic. I would have too. You should have seen it, kid.�

Spitting. Death. Images dribbled into the darkness.

�He killed seven men in five minutes with a pistol and a sword. You would be afraid too, you goddamn terrorist.�

A male voice intruded into the conversation. Harsh words, sputtered and trembling as they were defiant.

�Shut up. My god, Gothique. Your man tore one of them in half. You should be proud.�

Pride. Anger. The other woman�s voice reflected respect hard earned.

�My man?�

Concealed knowledge. Faked confusion.

�C�mon, girl. Think I didn�t see the part where you ran for him? The way you looked at him?�

Silence. Incriminating.

�Forget about it. How�s he doing? I just dropped by to see if he was okay.�

�Exhaustion, blood loss, three broken ribs from a bullet to the vest. Tore open some open wounds, plus these.�

Gentle hands over his body. Touching his scars. Distant through the layers of gauze, buffers to the pain. Then his precious Gothique�s voice again.

�He�s tough as nails. You wouldn�t know it, but I don�t know how he�s survived. You can�t see it, but his entire chest is scarred.�

More touching, then a sigh.

�It�s the sacrifices of angels - even avenging angels- that keeps this place alive.�




Whoo! New chapter. Enjoy. More coming Wednesday.

DE

Well... I really enjoy writing the ATS story for everyone. I really do. but now, I have to take it to the next level.

After talking to Kano and SO, I have decided to attempt to get the ATS story published. Perhaps with some luck, an ATS store will apear, and even carry the item.



Yes, I know. It's ambitious, and it's more than a little risky. But, I'm doing it myself. Despite having my computer all but burst into flames, I'm going to try to submit it by the 30th of THIS MONTH. I'm getting it self-published, so this is coming out of my pocket. This means three things:

1. My life will be extremely hectic and I'll have no money.

2. I'll need ot rewrite everything, and tie up the last five to ten chapters. This means no more updates, ever.

3. I'm going to need volunteers.



Yes, I know, perhaps some of you think this is me stabbing you in the back. it's not. I value everyone who reads this. I'm probably going to be a good 400$ in the hole for this enterprise, so unless they move like lightning on crack I'm pretty screwed. I'm taking out a loan in a few days.

Now, here comes the hard part. I need your help, bad. I need my friends- the ones who have stuck by me from the beginning, to help me edit the body of work. It's a lot to ask, and I'm sorry to put the burden on all of you.

If you want to help, I can be contacted at my denyignorance.com address, the hotmail address in my profile, my livejournal or by U2U.

Again, I'm sorry.

DE

[edit: no donations will be accepted of any kind, except for that of time. I'm doing this on my own.]

[Edited on 23-5-2004 by DeusEx]

Baldur's Gate and the Pixies - defininitely good soundtracks.
I have sent you a U2U with regards your request.

Originally posted by DeusEx
After talking to Kano and SO, I have decided to attempt to get the ATS story published. Perhaps with some luck, an ATS store will apear, and even carry the item.

I want one!!

-B.

why not pre-sell copies to us in order to help your cost?