Hi all.
This is the first draft of the first part of a character history I'm working on.
It's written in a different style than what I usually use for histories so I'm interested in some feedback to see if it works or not. It has a lot of conversation with events unfolding through dialogue and internal monologues rather than the large chunks of expositive text I normally use.
Since most people I know aren't interested in reading stories about Orks with swords, I figured Dumpshock would be a good place to get some feedback :)
I've read it over a few times myself. I can't tell if it's cliche and cheesy or cool so let me know your thoughts.
[ Spoiler ]
The man in the suit paced slowly around the ornately decorated room, his attention focused on the pocket secretary cradled in his calloused hands. His footfalls were soft against the tatami covered floor as he studied the glowing text scrolling across the miniature screen.
“Relax, Mr. Takayama. We have everything under control. We’re professionals and we deal with these types of delicate situations all the time.” The man in the suit spoke with a stern confidence earned after many years of violent experience.
“With all do respect, Mr. Sloan, but you do not understand! Have you not heard the news on the street! This is not a mere matter of business anymore! It is now personal…” The heretofore silent Nipponese man spoke in lightly accented English. A slim gentleman of middle years, he would be distinguished if he were not sweating so profusely. Hideo cursed softly to himself as he wiped his palms against the fine Italian wool of his garments.
Growing annoyed, the man in the suit sighed internally. Why do I always get stuck with the nut jobs?
“Listen, sir, relax. Centurion Personal Security Services is more than equipped to deal with whatever matter you have gotten yourself involved in.”
“If only it were so simple, Mr. Sloan. I can live with the threat of snipers or bombs or poison but it is more than that. He does not just want me dead. He wants to send a message!”
“Mr. Takayama, have a drink. Go to bed. Go fuck your mistress. Go do whatever the frag you want. My team and I have work to do.”
* * *
‘Takayama-san, you have dishonored your family and the entire clan.’
Hideo jolted awake, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room. Panic stricken, he sat upright in his bed, frantically scrambling to reach his gun. The nearby slumbering figure of his mistress lay in undisturbed repose.
“The Oyaban is most displeased. You should not have stolen from him, Takayama-san.”
A chill of fear ran down Hideo’s spine, as a mind numbing, bowel loosening fear overcame him. "Where are my bodyguards? Where is Mr. Sloan?"
“They cannot help you, Takayama-san. They are beyond helping anyone.” the dark figure replied as Hideo’s cry for help died unuttered in his throat.
A shrill cry shattered the tension of the room. Hideo’s mistress had awoken. The dark figure took a step forward, emerging from the deep shadows. His intense eyes were now visible through the mask shrouding the remainder of his features. A katana hung from his hip, his hands calmly folded in front of him. With a casual flick of the eyes, he gestured towards the door. Without a second thought, the woman leapt from the bed and fled from the room clutching a fluttering robe. The dark figure stood impassive, not even turning to watch her departure.
Pulling back the mask, the dark figure stepped closer. Hideo’s eyes widened in fright as he recognized the man. The rumors were true… “Watanabe-san! Have mercy!’ he cried out piteously.
‘Coward.’ Watanabe replied. “Although you have no honor, I will allow you the chance for a noble death.” With a fluid gesture, the dark figure produced a knife, handing the sheathed blade, handle first, to Hideo.
Nodding slowly, Hideo composed himself. He could still redeem himself and salvage what little remained of his honor.
“You are generous as always, Watanabe-san” he replied as he took the dagger. Swallowing nervously, Hideo drew the blade, plunging it into his own stomach. Hideo crumpled over and the katana flashed, ending it all. Honor had been satisfied.
* * *
“Grant me an honorable death…” Watanabe murmured softly, his voice hoarse and cracked. The pain that wracked his body was ebbing but the mental wounds remained.
“It is such a pity, isn’t it dear Hiro? You served the Oyabun so well and now look what has happened to you.” The man paced about the hospital bed as he spoke, his voice dripping with malice and contempt.
“I have served loyally, as did my father and his father before him. Please put an end to this cruel madness. Kill me.” Hiro was not used to begging but these were special circumstances.
“You always adhered so closely to tradition, to the old ways. You and your precious, honor…” The pacing man spat out the last word as if it were a vile obscenity. “You know, Hiro Watanabe I have never liked you. So high and mighty… In the end, you and I are the same. We both have blood on our hands.”
“I am not like you, Jiro…”
“Ah, that is true. You have changed…” Jiro replied with a smirk. “Do you know what they are calling it?” he asked, while peering out over the San Francisco skyline. “SURGE…” he chuckled. “Catchy, isn’t it? The gaijin certainly have a way with words. You are kawaruhito. Or what they might call, an ork.” Every word dripped with venom and Jiro sneered as he saw them hit their mark.
“It is true!” Hiro cried out despairingly from his bed. The weeks of pain had ebbed and he had survived but his life was no longer worth living. “Have mercy and end it, Jiro! End my shame and the shame I have brought to my family…”
“Oh, yes. Your family…” Jiro chuckled softly. He was relishing the moment. For many years, the two had been rivals and now, he was triumphant. “I always knew your bloodline was weak. Tainted… You’re boy, Kenji, he changed as well… You do not have to worry about him, though. The matter has been handled and he will not taint future generations. Your bloodline has ended, Watanabe-san.”
“NO!” Hiro screamed, a bestial howl ripped from his throat.
“Oh yes, my dear friend. He is gone. I did it myself. And with your family’s sword, might I add. A fitting end, would you not say?” Jiro produced the katana, drawing the blade, testing its weight, admiring the keen steel. “This is truly a fine weapon, although wasted on your inferior lineage.”
“He was only a child…” Hiro’s voice was twisted in anguish as he cried out once more.
“But he was kawaruhito, my friend. Not a true boy anymore, merely a mongrel animal... Now poor Tamiko, she was so distraught at the shame. Husband and son, both changed. I offered her solace but she refused…” Jiro’s face was twisted in feral pleasure as he spoke… “So in the end, she followed the path of seppuku…”
“No…Tamiko did not hold to the old ways… She would not have done so…”
“Mmm…Did I say seppuku? I meant to say I killed her and made it look like suicide…”
A white hot, glowing rage coursed through Hiro’s veins as Jiro’s spiteful barbs hit home. Gone, all gone. It is time to die. It is the honorable way. You are no longer yourself. You are changed forever.
Jiro smirked as he approached the bedside, sword in hand, a cruel and triumphant smile on his features. He leaned in close, his breath hot against Hiro’s face. “Now, old friend, I will give you that death you were asking for…”
NO! It cannot be like this! The souls of my family cannot rest easy after these foul crimes… I have lost my honor. But I will have my vengeance…
Through a supreme act of will, Hiro moved. Reaching, his hand found something. A syringe… Bone and sinew creaked and nerves screamed in agony as he forced himself to move. With surprising quickness, he swung, the needle glinting in the fluorescent light of the hospital room before finding its mark. With a sickening noise, it sank into Jiro’s eye…
“Aaarrghh!!!” the human screamed as he dropped the sword. Falling to his knee, he clutched his face.
Rising to his feet, Hiro pounced. With the newfound strength of his changed body, his fists hammered home, raining down in a punishing hail of blows. Jiro lay helpless beneath the furious onslaught as bones snapped and blood splattered.
“Mercy…” Jiro gasped, his voice a gargled ruin.
“Why should I spare the murderer of my child?”
“Your sister… She has defended you and become a nuisance. She is unchanged but the blood is tainted… She is to be eliminated…The Oyabun has ordered it to be so...”
The words struck Hiro like a freight train. “Tell me where she is. Tell me, and I will allow you to live with your dishonor.”
“The pier…”
"You do not deserve an honorable death. Live with your shame, Jiro..."
Rising above his fallen foe, he reclaimed his katana and lovingly sheathed the blade.
Everything has changed.... I am alone... My family...My honor... My clan... The Oyabun has betrayed me....my dearest cherry blossom Tamiko... My little boy...I will avenge you… I will give you the peace you deserve…
A short story, - Interested in feedback
Apr 23 2005, 11:03 PM
