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To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration)
28 Sep 2016 16:15 #50463
by Woodclaw
To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration) was created by Woodclaw
A long time ago our very own Argonaut presented one unusual challenge: a short 10 entries collaborative piece starting from a single suggestion from him. In spite of a great success we never got another experiment of the sort and I think it's due time to try again
You might think of it as a warm-up before th next workshop.
Here we go.
Boulevard Leopold III, 1110 Brussels, Belgium
The secondary conference room inside the N.A.T.O. permanent HQ was abuzz with chatting in several languages as the extraordinary session of the North Atlantic Council was about to start. Around the famous ring table, the British Ministry of Defense was chatting with his German and French counterparts, but the constant shaking of the three gray haired heads was a clear sign that none of them had any clue regarding the matter at hand, aside from the fact that it has been called in by the U.S. Secretary of State. Another group of five or six men was entertaining a similar conversation with a U.S.Army officier – part of the permanent detachment – who was trying to wiggle his way out and kept checking his wristwatch, silently praying that his superiors will arrive soon. While the conversations started to shift to more mundane matters, the two men picket at the door snapped to attention and saluted, announcing the arrival of the Secretary of State, accompanied by a tall and roughly shaved man.
Vivian Klein wasn’t a physically impressive women, barely 1.52 tall, with a soft and rounded face, compounded by a pair of horn rimmed glasses, that looked more suited for a grandmother than a top level politician, she had nonetheless carved her way through the halls of Washington DC. Her diminutive height looked quite comical next to her chaperon, who was a full 1.78 of compact muscles that contrasted wildly with his snow white sideburns, which highlighted a jawline that seemed to be more often than not clenched: some of delegates recognized Olaf Stratberg, the current secretary of the Interpol.
As Ms Klein took her seat, the other delegates scuttled to their places, many were discretely bitting their lower lips or twisting their finger with anxiety. Vivian put her glasses on the table and run a hand down her face trying to smooth the anxiety wrinkles off it: “Ladies, gentlemen.” she started with her voice taking the deep soprano she used for the gravest matters “I’m very sorry for this inconvenience, but I just received some information that are of the utmost importance for all of our countries.”
There was a hint of buzz around the table, as the delegates tried to speculate what could affect all the 28 members of the alliance.
“Yesterday at 15 o’clock, Greenwich Time, the Department of State in Washington received this,” Vivian produced a pen drive from her immaculate blue attache case, “alongside a note to deliver the information directly to several top level officials. After the customary controls the content had been reviewed by the President, the Joint Chiefs and the head of our intelligence agencies.”
She paused for a moment, but none took the moment, all the delegates were just waiting for her: “The President ordered to provide you access to these information immediately, hoping that a joint effort would succeed where individual efforts failed.”
Sir Terence Scott, the British Prime Minister, politely coughed: “I beg your pardon, madam Secretary, but are you implying that this information may somehow compromise one or more of our countries.”
Vivian suppressed a smirk, for all her years in politics she was always amazed how some people seemed ready to assume the worst without a second thought: “Not at all Sir Scott, I’m just reporting some facts.” she produced a second drive and gave it to one of the assistants – a 30-ish man with red hair, but an otherwise nondescript look – whispering some instructions. A moment later the room main screen lit up and after watching at the desktop decorated with the white on blue wind star a video file started playing.
The quality of the video was incredibly low and the constant shaking made abundantly clear it was taken from a hand-held camera or some similar device. The operator was running through a narrow space between two low buildings made of corrugated steel and plastic, alongside cheap wood planks – the clear marks of a shanty town construction. There was no sound, but the speed and the shaking were those of a full sprint run. All of the sudden a figure silhouetted against the light at the other end of the alley, while her face wasn’t visible the exaggerated curves of her profile – especially the roller-coaster between the hips and the waist – screamed of a femininity that had all the subtlety of wrecking ball.
A gun barrel swung from left to right, apparently handled by the operator. The lack of sound didn’t make the full-auto burst any less brutal, but the results were far from the expected: the narrow confines made sure that almost no bullet missed its mark, but the woman just stood her ground with her left casually resting on her generous hip without any apparent care.
As the barrage stopped, the woman waited one second, then took a single step forward. A blur of dark colors obscured the visual for a moment, the next she was standing mere centimeters in front of the camera, which now focused on a gorgeous round profile with magnificently pouty lips that opened in a hard smile. She cooked back her right fist and just a split second later the camera tumbled away into the sky.
“I believe you’re all familiar with this footage, although none of us will admit it openly.” Vivian stated dryly, “For those who aren’t: this was taken from the helmet camera of a B.OP.E. trooper six months ago after a failed operation in Rio. The woman in the video disappeared after the fact, but several agencies have tried to track her down. Yesterday she sent us this.”
Against a video file started, this one in a much better quality. The woman appeared in a half-length shot that outlined a beauty rarely witnessed. The round face was framed by a cascade of shining, raven-black and straight hair that went all the way down to a chest that was the embodiment of every maternal fantasy since the prehistory of mankind barely covered by a red bikini top; her glorious, glistening lips smiled under a nose that had just the slightest upward tilt – adding a touch of spoiled princess to her look – and flanked by two caramel colored eyes. Something in her cheekbones and eyes suggested the oriental, but the deep tan of her skin could pass for a number of things from South American to North African.
She looked straight into camera and every men in the room shifted slightly, having the feeling that she was looking right at him. “Good morning sirs,” her voice was smooth, rich and without an audible accent, “I believe that there’s no need for presentations, so I’ll go straight to the meat: I’m very, very disappointed in you all.”
Two or three delegates found themselves looking down at their shoes, as if they had been caught re-handed stealing some cookies.
“In these past six months you sent your soldiers after me time and time again. While this has been fun for a while.” she paused licking her lusciously lips, “I’m not going to tolerate this state of things any longer. Since you won’t believe what I’m capable of without proof, I’m going to present to you some highlights of my previous vi— I’m sorry, I don’t think that ‘victories’ would be appropriate. Lets say of the failure of you and your allies.”
The screen went black for a moment and she continued: “Number 10 …”
Now some ground rules:
Okay, now go nuts.
You might think of it as a warm-up before th next workshop.
Here we go.
Boulevard Leopold III, 1110 Brussels, Belgium
The secondary conference room inside the N.A.T.O. permanent HQ was abuzz with chatting in several languages as the extraordinary session of the North Atlantic Council was about to start. Around the famous ring table, the British Ministry of Defense was chatting with his German and French counterparts, but the constant shaking of the three gray haired heads was a clear sign that none of them had any clue regarding the matter at hand, aside from the fact that it has been called in by the U.S. Secretary of State. Another group of five or six men was entertaining a similar conversation with a U.S.Army officier – part of the permanent detachment – who was trying to wiggle his way out and kept checking his wristwatch, silently praying that his superiors will arrive soon. While the conversations started to shift to more mundane matters, the two men picket at the door snapped to attention and saluted, announcing the arrival of the Secretary of State, accompanied by a tall and roughly shaved man.
Vivian Klein wasn’t a physically impressive women, barely 1.52 tall, with a soft and rounded face, compounded by a pair of horn rimmed glasses, that looked more suited for a grandmother than a top level politician, she had nonetheless carved her way through the halls of Washington DC. Her diminutive height looked quite comical next to her chaperon, who was a full 1.78 of compact muscles that contrasted wildly with his snow white sideburns, which highlighted a jawline that seemed to be more often than not clenched: some of delegates recognized Olaf Stratberg, the current secretary of the Interpol.
As Ms Klein took her seat, the other delegates scuttled to their places, many were discretely bitting their lower lips or twisting their finger with anxiety. Vivian put her glasses on the table and run a hand down her face trying to smooth the anxiety wrinkles off it: “Ladies, gentlemen.” she started with her voice taking the deep soprano she used for the gravest matters “I’m very sorry for this inconvenience, but I just received some information that are of the utmost importance for all of our countries.”
There was a hint of buzz around the table, as the delegates tried to speculate what could affect all the 28 members of the alliance.
“Yesterday at 15 o’clock, Greenwich Time, the Department of State in Washington received this,” Vivian produced a pen drive from her immaculate blue attache case, “alongside a note to deliver the information directly to several top level officials. After the customary controls the content had been reviewed by the President, the Joint Chiefs and the head of our intelligence agencies.”
She paused for a moment, but none took the moment, all the delegates were just waiting for her: “The President ordered to provide you access to these information immediately, hoping that a joint effort would succeed where individual efforts failed.”
Sir Terence Scott, the British Prime Minister, politely coughed: “I beg your pardon, madam Secretary, but are you implying that this information may somehow compromise one or more of our countries.”
Vivian suppressed a smirk, for all her years in politics she was always amazed how some people seemed ready to assume the worst without a second thought: “Not at all Sir Scott, I’m just reporting some facts.” she produced a second drive and gave it to one of the assistants – a 30-ish man with red hair, but an otherwise nondescript look – whispering some instructions. A moment later the room main screen lit up and after watching at the desktop decorated with the white on blue wind star a video file started playing.
The quality of the video was incredibly low and the constant shaking made abundantly clear it was taken from a hand-held camera or some similar device. The operator was running through a narrow space between two low buildings made of corrugated steel and plastic, alongside cheap wood planks – the clear marks of a shanty town construction. There was no sound, but the speed and the shaking were those of a full sprint run. All of the sudden a figure silhouetted against the light at the other end of the alley, while her face wasn’t visible the exaggerated curves of her profile – especially the roller-coaster between the hips and the waist – screamed of a femininity that had all the subtlety of wrecking ball.
A gun barrel swung from left to right, apparently handled by the operator. The lack of sound didn’t make the full-auto burst any less brutal, but the results were far from the expected: the narrow confines made sure that almost no bullet missed its mark, but the woman just stood her ground with her left casually resting on her generous hip without any apparent care.
As the barrage stopped, the woman waited one second, then took a single step forward. A blur of dark colors obscured the visual for a moment, the next she was standing mere centimeters in front of the camera, which now focused on a gorgeous round profile with magnificently pouty lips that opened in a hard smile. She cooked back her right fist and just a split second later the camera tumbled away into the sky.
“I believe you’re all familiar with this footage, although none of us will admit it openly.” Vivian stated dryly, “For those who aren’t: this was taken from the helmet camera of a B.OP.E. trooper six months ago after a failed operation in Rio. The woman in the video disappeared after the fact, but several agencies have tried to track her down. Yesterday she sent us this.”
Against a video file started, this one in a much better quality. The woman appeared in a half-length shot that outlined a beauty rarely witnessed. The round face was framed by a cascade of shining, raven-black and straight hair that went all the way down to a chest that was the embodiment of every maternal fantasy since the prehistory of mankind barely covered by a red bikini top; her glorious, glistening lips smiled under a nose that had just the slightest upward tilt – adding a touch of spoiled princess to her look – and flanked by two caramel colored eyes. Something in her cheekbones and eyes suggested the oriental, but the deep tan of her skin could pass for a number of things from South American to North African.
She looked straight into camera and every men in the room shifted slightly, having the feeling that she was looking right at him. “Good morning sirs,” her voice was smooth, rich and without an audible accent, “I believe that there’s no need for presentations, so I’ll go straight to the meat: I’m very, very disappointed in you all.”
Two or three delegates found themselves looking down at their shoes, as if they had been caught re-handed stealing some cookies.
“In these past six months you sent your soldiers after me time and time again. While this has been fun for a while.” she paused licking her lusciously lips, “I’m not going to tolerate this state of things any longer. Since you won’t believe what I’m capable of without proof, I’m going to present to you some highlights of my previous vi— I’m sorry, I don’t think that ‘victories’ would be appropriate. Lets say of the failure of you and your allies.”
The screen went black for a moment and she continued: “Number 10 …”
Now some ground rules:
- Every can participate.
- This story will be of 10 entries after that I'm going to provide an epilogue.
- No contributor can write two or more consecutive entries.
- Every entry can feature a maximum of one new power, but previously established powers are free to use.
- No entry can rewrite a physical feature, power or other element stated in a previous one.
Okay, now go nuts.
The following user(s) said Thank You: SHTL, shadar
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30 Sep 2016 02:20 - 30 Sep 2016 13:52 #50500
by castor
Replied by castor on topic To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration)
He was Scared.
He had been scared every day since he got here. At first like 20 hours a day followed by a 4 hour of fitful sleep mostly of nightmares.
But then as the last 3 weeks had gone on it had become more situational. There was moments of boredom, annoyance at the heat, a scattered laugh at some gallows humor joke, a recognition that the Chocolate bar had some flavor where he wasn't in fear. These moments increased everyday-minutes hours when he didn't realize, minutes when he thought of something else.
and then he was Scared.
Privae First Class Marcus Williams had been drafted by the United States Army and after completing in the top 10% of basic had been assigned to its first Cavalary division. Basic had been abstract. He wasn't agianst the army or any of that, or the cause-but well it was abstract. He had been in the football team in high school and a talk with the coach told him that what ever to do do it well-and well he did it best. It had been hard a lot of early morning runs and people yelling at him-but he was used to that by now.
In any case he did well on a mechanical test, and they spent him to spend 2 months learning how to fix helicopters. it was remarkably similar to cars. Then they gave him a week of lectures that seem academic slogg...and shipped him off to Vietnam.
And now 3 months after that he was in Khe Shahn in the far North near the Demilitarized Zone. Him and a couple of thousand other Solders marines and some airman facing what was considered depending on what you heard on based 5000, to 100,0000 Vietnamese troops which had surrounded them.
Khe Shahnn he had been told had been a village built around an old french fort. Very Little of the fort or facy the Village remained. It had been stripped away leaving it had been a respectful size hill, with a bunch of hastily built barracks, medical tents, quisnoist huts and the like built around wire and guard post-that always seemed to get cut always seem to get broken always seem to be pushed back by them. them.
The base was in a jungle. or used to be. Every day guns and armor made it less of one exploding the mass around them-but it still felt like that. Trees and vines don't grow that fast, but even as the fighting went on it felt like every night it would grow back,became more thick more dense with its mass of greeen dark menace. He had been told that a lot of the trees where cofee trees and that if you wanted to wake up just grab some but...every time he looked he saw it. just death in a trees.
Everyday the shot atilerly into them. To marcus eyes it would make vast burning fires that depending on the chemicals used in the bombs very pretty but do very little.
Every day the shot back. The North Vietnemese wheren't much of an artliery nation but they had some. The fact that there close to both North Vietnam and Laos let they bring the realitivly heavy forces-and so they shot at them.
And every day some people would get hit.
It didn't matter were. The base was loosely divided by the frontline marines, surrounding a core of the medical command, and his copters. The artillery wasn't that smart, nor was the grenades that got tossed or the occasional snipper or special force troop that came in. Not always fatally sometime just a shot to the chest you could litterally walk away from, sometimes more. They would come in and blow up and shoot, taking out 20 one, or just someone going out for a piss.
A hot stinking sweltering piss. it was Early April, and it felt like july back home-the hottest july on record. Williams woke up early and sat in his sweat covered sheets for a few minutes waiting for the command to get up. This wasn't safe-he knew that for certain but it had the illusion of saftey, the warm allusion of safe. He had dreams. Dreams of a beautiful woman, whose details felt lost in the morning haze, but he knew what she looked like and that she was most gorgious woman he had ever seen even if he didn't know if she was a blond a brunette or any of that. She simply was The Woman. in a place he couldn't make out-maybe it was the beach the mountions, paris or the moon-it was there and it was her.
This was the third dream he had of her and wanted more.
Eventually a sergent ordered him up. and he dressed. thankfully they forgoted stuff like PT or any of that crap, which felt alien and strange. Instead after he opened up an MRE cookie and had a cup of hot cofee he went to his work.
Past the fence. there was unecombered view of the fence about half way to his station and while it was maybe a 50 yards away not a great distance for fire-it was there-and behind it was more power then you could imagine. just waiting to come in.
Thousands of then. 100 of Thousands of them. All trying to kill him. Now Parinoia is the concept that there out to get you but...
They where out to get him. Him.
He shuddered.
But he couldn't say it. that was the thing. Admiting the fear made it real, made it life, made him dead. He couldn't admit any of it.
He worked in what was basically a makeshift air hanger but not a hanger, looking at choppers before they went out. Even though on all sides they where sorounded the Helicopters and the small runway let them resupply and bring in aid-he himself had came in here one on them. It was the idea that meant that this was a forward outpost of victory not a murasses of death..
The Tin roof at least gave the Veneer of Safety -unlike the things As mentioned Helicopters where a lot like Cars. Unlike Cars they had a tendency to break down almost constantly-screws rivets, engine parts almost falling off sometimes in the middle of flights. The problem was if a car lost something like that the worst it would do was stop. Even a plane if its engine stooped with a decent pilot wasn't the end of the world-they want to glide. A Helicopter that stooped would fall to the ground. A really great Pilot may walk out of it-but likely as not no.
And also cause it had to be light as a feather to fly it didn't have any armour. Which meant a cheep Russian Rocket Launcher could take one out easy peasy. And the VC had plenty of those.
The question he often asked himself was of course was he wanted to fly out of on one of these here with the base in a retreat or stay here until the Vietcong swarmed over.
In front of him was a Huey with a busted Exaust System, from what it looked like a little contact from a Tree? Sap. Easy enough to fix. Somewhere someone had a radio with what sounded like Jazz music. You got this image that they would be playing hippie music or folk or pop, but Jazz music. It added to the sureality. The Real strangeness was that he didn't hate it.
"Heard a story last night from an NCO"
He turned it was Corporal Donald working on another copter.. That was His last name; Donald. Didn't know his first. He liked to talk to fill the emptiness.
"Yeah yeah" said Marcus" your full of stories"
"I did"
"okay what is it"
"Well the NCO got drunk with a Colornel"
"fratenizing with an enlisted officer"
"sure" said Donald "Well he was talking about why where here"
Williams shruged "Cause charlie is here. The Vietcong the NVA and Ho Chin Minh"
"Why are we fighting them"
"Cause there no good comies thats why" said marcus " I donno"
"Well aparently they say-that the NVA, the Army...there controled by something"
"Russia"
"Something" said Donald shaking his head "something big and scary"
"Oh great" said Marcus sighing but for the first time letting the fear come in "Like the boogy man"
"He said that the french- you know that Vietnamese used to be ruled by the French? That the french in the 50s...they went to some kinda site, like a temple or that...and they unlocked something, something bad. Something horrible. maybe it was in World War 2? what ever it got loose. Now they tried to fight it, but it didn't take. But they told america about it so we would fight it with them...and well here we are"
"What about the chinky gooks" came a voice. Marcus turned to Sgt. Aarons there commander a no nonsense little man of no more then 5'2 but had the voice of a man twice that .
"look i am just repeating it. The NVA the Vietcong-they work for it. They run there batons at us, their company's they did that Offensive last month-cause well there frightened. that if they don't fight, she'll kill them. Eat them, make there bones into her bread or something-something worse then dying "
Always the sound of gunfire, some firefight somewhere, some bullets going off. ocasionally it whould putter of into nothing but mostly. it was there
"woman" chuckled Arron "A dame. ts always a dame. A mermaid monster"
"They don't have a lot of stuff on her. But it is a her. Some kinda female thats what the captured solders identify her. some kinda something-maybe not fully human at all, but has the form of it." admited Donald "just saying"
"You said why here?" marcus realized he was saying
"What?" asked donald
"Why here?" said Marcus "Why are we in this god for saken death corner"
"oh" said donald in a manner that Marcus couldn't read was he forgot it or hadn't made up up yet "Well the Khe Valley is apparently where the temple was-where not quite sure where that kinda data got lost-but well this base was supposed to be a forward ops to find it, to find her info on how to stop her, something you know? but they can't find it. Then the NVA came in to stop us-and well here we are. they say shes out there with them. leading them. destroying the cowards, eating them whole in two bites with her flat perfect teeth. Shes out there ready to come in and destroy us herself if she has to."
Marcus paused looking at his oblt for a second when he heard a horrible terrible laugh..it was
Sgt Aarons was tittering. "Thats bullshit. But thats great bullshit. Thats a Classic Dracula story"
"Just repeating" Said Donald shaking his head
"Get back to work"
And so they did. Donald ocasionally bellyaching and talking but back to work. But Marcus felt ill at ease. Half Remembered dreams filled the story with preternatural acess. A woman, what kinda of woman. The lack of details became details. He wanted to press him to see if he had anything else, but that whould just show what a weak coward he was. And he didn't want to be that. not with all these marines everywhere.
Though the marines themselves often looked as scared as he was.
*****
Around 3 Some Shelling hit the base. Not a lot just pot shots really, but two or three big explosions hit the base in what turned out to be the sewer treatment. Fun. One person was lightly injured but more then that it just produced a big stink over the base., litterally the smell of shit and piss. Great. A short but intense burst of rain didn't help any.
After duty there wasn't a lot to do. Squads group gathered and shoot the shit. Marcus some nights whould join them, listening to music laughing joking something.
Not tonight-yeah probabbly somewhere but not in the Cavalary side of Khe Shan. It felt subdued. Marcus in his most recent letter to his parents had asked them to send books-not really carring what just something-but he hadn't got it. There was implication that packages to the grunts in the siege wheren't the biggest prioty.
They had Cigarettes of course but marcus couldn't smoke him. Something about them didn't relax him just made him more nervious-when ever he had tried smoking him here they made it all worse. There was a fair amont of dope on base. ocasionally a wiff or so would give him a subtle hit of something, but he avoided it to-something unsavoray about illegal, that if they did an autopsy on him they didn't want to find that in his blood stream.
Tonight however...it felt quiet. Empty quiet. just the sound of the liquid jungle trying to wash over them, birds, insects, monkeys for all he know..all just making there noise of the dying. and coming back to life with obsense speed.
However what they did have was the ocasional beer, some bottle of wine, bottles of something like wine. when ever they passed the bottle of that he drank. That at least made him feel-not brave, though some one called it liquid bravery, but the idea of the idea of something. Someon in the tent had some and he managed to get a glass of it. tasted like burning firewater, like some cheepest moonshine ever that for a second he was worried about going blind. Marcus didn't.
Instead He had an old Army Manual on the Care and maitence of the Abrhams tank that he had snaged and was reading. it was boring tedius an like a lot of army stuff written for a 15 year old in some places and a college engeener and others...but it was something to read, and not think about her.
and it didn't
Around 8 oclock when it was almost completly silent he got up. He had to piss but really he just couldn't stnad there. no one seemed to object as he walked outside into night to the sound of an eerily silent little base. some people where here and there and he walked...but he ignored them. He should have gone up to just talk but instead he walked off to a bush to piss cause of the non existent preasure
When he saw the frence. They had lights up on it though at this spot it was dim-behind it trees, grasses, behind it something swaying
He turned away for a second and when he turned back he saw her.
Her. He knew her.
"Let me in"
He could make out the details. She was small. not so big. Even though he was a 200 or so feet away her height was noticeable it was small. Her Skin was Pale. Vietnemese people looked different then that which is how he knew she wasn't some Vietnamese soldier. She had black hair and some kinda eyes he couldn't make out wearing what looked to be some kind of Victorian dress of lace and ruffle half decayed off by time. she looked like a ghost.
"Let me in" said the voice. there wasn't an accent. maybe french? he didn't know. All he know was it sounded less like a voice and that voices of the jungle where mimicking the sound of something, that the insects and the wind in the trees where becoming...
And he ran. Ran hard. Ran Fast. as far as he could go in the oppsotie direction.
He ran and he ran. somewhere someone said something like "Solder what" but he ignored them running in abstract and total fear of something
"Let me in". Her. It. Her.
He got to the medical ward area as deep in the base as there was when he stopped. let me in. He didn't like coming here. he could see the bags they used for bodies hear low moans coming over.
He closed his eyes. and then he opened them. It was her.
Her eyes where Blue like a blue no human had ever been. Her hair was a Blackish but almost blue no hair had never been. there was very little light her except the moon but it glowed, somehow it didn't depend on illumination to look at her-but she was flesh. she was blood that much was aparent. small in frame large in proportions. Chest hips, lips hair all there...all
"When i said let me in it was a curtesy" she said smiling she put a hand softly on his chest to stroke it. "A request, becuse i like it" There was something sing song to it slightly litttling little voice
"I'm sorry you frightened me" he said. He knew about the logic of dreams, about how things that where incredible you did becuse. this didn't have the logic of dreams. he said it becuse he was terrifed
"Are you a virigin?" she asked absently looking at his chest. "Private Williams"
"Um"
"Please don't lie about anything. i find it unbecoming" she grabed his shoulder with delicate hands and while the pressure wasn't that thick somehow he knew that much behind it. so much. that if he.
"Also don't scream"
"Yes" he admired. He had a girlfriend in high school that had never
"Ahhh" she said "I like Virgins. i find them so amusing, clean there is something about them. Virgins. i chose well"
she walked away letting go turning her back..still don't...he wanted to.
"Whats your plans"
"Um...go home live a long time maybe work in mec..."
"Married?"
"probably"
"That would be fun" she said "Would you like to marry me. have a big white dress, and possy plants and feed each other cake. "
"Um...."
In an instant she was bheind him..litterally an instant. he first thought this was like a jump cut in a movie, and that he was dreaming but she grabbed him and held him and he felt pain from it. then a lick on his neck.
"Of course you want to marry me. you would do anything i say. Cause if you don't"
"Please just let me go..."
She giggled. he could no longer see her but he could hear her giggle.
"I'll rephrase. What is the army planning with your base?"
He sighed
"There sending divisions north. there about 30 miles away trying to brake through to retake the area around this . There having trouble. on the Lunar New Year the Vietcong did this big attack all over the country as a distraction-but there coming, don't know when there getting here"
"How many divisions ?
"2.... i think elements of 3. Lot of Airforce"
"Is that so difficult?" the woman said. she turned and walked in front of him
"What are you he asked?"
"Its not what i am that is of issue. its what i can do and what i want. Right now i am amused by pitting army against army battle against battle. They think they can find my weakness here. Idiots. silly though and fun."
Just then a massive Artillery burst came in the biggest that Marcus had ever saw, bursts of giant fire coming in huge shots in the air that he could barely make out they move so fast coming in big burst landing near them creating massive gouts of fire all over the base.
He turned to run hoping that it would distract her, kill her something her..he kept running and running as he looked up to see one go right at him.
When he got pushed aside 20 feet away in a single push. now you may think this is a movie where this is some kind act of safety. instead it felt like he had been hit by a truck. a massive fucking push right in his solar plexisu as he move and hit a wall of a tent sleeping over in the mud of the ground breaking several bones in his chest and his right leg in four places. the muscles there where none better, his left arm. though strangely his right was fine as he felt pain wash over him then leave in a shock.
And she was over him.
Standing in what looked to be the spot of an NVA rocket. He hadn't seen it but knew that it had hit her and...
"My own men know i am here you see. They did that not to kill you, but tried to kill me. There both trying to. This entire war is"
Her perfect flat Teath smiled.
"Please don't kill me," Said Williams " Please don't kill me..i am begging you begging you...i will do anything anything"
"Are you scared?"
"Yes. Yes i am scared. i am terrifed. Please"
She smiled and turned and walked away.
"You have pleased me. Never marry"
And she disappeared into the night.
*In July of 1968 Operation Pegasus Broke through to the south of Khe Shan. There in one of the most massive ground battles of the war, Offically the NVA where pushed back-however within two months there was a strategic retreat from the region to focus on other areas of the conflict. There was some talk of a larger push force that the forces where impossibly strong-but the army denied that
The Army considered many tactics to end the war- even nuclear bombs, but ultimately no. Instead slowly over the next 4 years officially and 4 years they kept fighting the enemy what ever that was until all of Vietnam was taken by the North.
Private Williams for his part was Air Vaced to Saigon and Eventually Stateside where he recovered from his injuries. He would walk again, though for the rest of his life he would need a cane. He got an office Job at an Auto part Distributor in Kansas where he worked for 30 more years living a quiet life.
He was a handsome man. People would occasionally tease him calling him gay or something for lack of love life. Though he never married, never did any of that.
He was waiting for her.
And he would dream of the jungle.*
He had been scared every day since he got here. At first like 20 hours a day followed by a 4 hour of fitful sleep mostly of nightmares.
But then as the last 3 weeks had gone on it had become more situational. There was moments of boredom, annoyance at the heat, a scattered laugh at some gallows humor joke, a recognition that the Chocolate bar had some flavor where he wasn't in fear. These moments increased everyday-minutes hours when he didn't realize, minutes when he thought of something else.
and then he was Scared.
Privae First Class Marcus Williams had been drafted by the United States Army and after completing in the top 10% of basic had been assigned to its first Cavalary division. Basic had been abstract. He wasn't agianst the army or any of that, or the cause-but well it was abstract. He had been in the football team in high school and a talk with the coach told him that what ever to do do it well-and well he did it best. It had been hard a lot of early morning runs and people yelling at him-but he was used to that by now.
In any case he did well on a mechanical test, and they spent him to spend 2 months learning how to fix helicopters. it was remarkably similar to cars. Then they gave him a week of lectures that seem academic slogg...and shipped him off to Vietnam.
And now 3 months after that he was in Khe Shahn in the far North near the Demilitarized Zone. Him and a couple of thousand other Solders marines and some airman facing what was considered depending on what you heard on based 5000, to 100,0000 Vietnamese troops which had surrounded them.
Khe Shahnn he had been told had been a village built around an old french fort. Very Little of the fort or facy the Village remained. It had been stripped away leaving it had been a respectful size hill, with a bunch of hastily built barracks, medical tents, quisnoist huts and the like built around wire and guard post-that always seemed to get cut always seem to get broken always seem to be pushed back by them. them.
The base was in a jungle. or used to be. Every day guns and armor made it less of one exploding the mass around them-but it still felt like that. Trees and vines don't grow that fast, but even as the fighting went on it felt like every night it would grow back,became more thick more dense with its mass of greeen dark menace. He had been told that a lot of the trees where cofee trees and that if you wanted to wake up just grab some but...every time he looked he saw it. just death in a trees.
Everyday the shot atilerly into them. To marcus eyes it would make vast burning fires that depending on the chemicals used in the bombs very pretty but do very little.
Every day the shot back. The North Vietnemese wheren't much of an artliery nation but they had some. The fact that there close to both North Vietnam and Laos let they bring the realitivly heavy forces-and so they shot at them.
And every day some people would get hit.
It didn't matter were. The base was loosely divided by the frontline marines, surrounding a core of the medical command, and his copters. The artillery wasn't that smart, nor was the grenades that got tossed or the occasional snipper or special force troop that came in. Not always fatally sometime just a shot to the chest you could litterally walk away from, sometimes more. They would come in and blow up and shoot, taking out 20 one, or just someone going out for a piss.
A hot stinking sweltering piss. it was Early April, and it felt like july back home-the hottest july on record. Williams woke up early and sat in his sweat covered sheets for a few minutes waiting for the command to get up. This wasn't safe-he knew that for certain but it had the illusion of saftey, the warm allusion of safe. He had dreams. Dreams of a beautiful woman, whose details felt lost in the morning haze, but he knew what she looked like and that she was most gorgious woman he had ever seen even if he didn't know if she was a blond a brunette or any of that. She simply was The Woman. in a place he couldn't make out-maybe it was the beach the mountions, paris or the moon-it was there and it was her.
This was the third dream he had of her and wanted more.
Eventually a sergent ordered him up. and he dressed. thankfully they forgoted stuff like PT or any of that crap, which felt alien and strange. Instead after he opened up an MRE cookie and had a cup of hot cofee he went to his work.
Past the fence. there was unecombered view of the fence about half way to his station and while it was maybe a 50 yards away not a great distance for fire-it was there-and behind it was more power then you could imagine. just waiting to come in.
Thousands of then. 100 of Thousands of them. All trying to kill him. Now Parinoia is the concept that there out to get you but...
They where out to get him. Him.
He shuddered.
But he couldn't say it. that was the thing. Admiting the fear made it real, made it life, made him dead. He couldn't admit any of it.
He worked in what was basically a makeshift air hanger but not a hanger, looking at choppers before they went out. Even though on all sides they where sorounded the Helicopters and the small runway let them resupply and bring in aid-he himself had came in here one on them. It was the idea that meant that this was a forward outpost of victory not a murasses of death..
The Tin roof at least gave the Veneer of Safety -unlike the things As mentioned Helicopters where a lot like Cars. Unlike Cars they had a tendency to break down almost constantly-screws rivets, engine parts almost falling off sometimes in the middle of flights. The problem was if a car lost something like that the worst it would do was stop. Even a plane if its engine stooped with a decent pilot wasn't the end of the world-they want to glide. A Helicopter that stooped would fall to the ground. A really great Pilot may walk out of it-but likely as not no.
And also cause it had to be light as a feather to fly it didn't have any armour. Which meant a cheep Russian Rocket Launcher could take one out easy peasy. And the VC had plenty of those.
The question he often asked himself was of course was he wanted to fly out of on one of these here with the base in a retreat or stay here until the Vietcong swarmed over.
In front of him was a Huey with a busted Exaust System, from what it looked like a little contact from a Tree? Sap. Easy enough to fix. Somewhere someone had a radio with what sounded like Jazz music. You got this image that they would be playing hippie music or folk or pop, but Jazz music. It added to the sureality. The Real strangeness was that he didn't hate it.
"Heard a story last night from an NCO"
He turned it was Corporal Donald working on another copter.. That was His last name; Donald. Didn't know his first. He liked to talk to fill the emptiness.
"Yeah yeah" said Marcus" your full of stories"
"I did"
"okay what is it"
"Well the NCO got drunk with a Colornel"
"fratenizing with an enlisted officer"
"sure" said Donald "Well he was talking about why where here"
Williams shruged "Cause charlie is here. The Vietcong the NVA and Ho Chin Minh"
"Why are we fighting them"
"Cause there no good comies thats why" said marcus " I donno"
"Well aparently they say-that the NVA, the Army...there controled by something"
"Russia"
"Something" said Donald shaking his head "something big and scary"
"Oh great" said Marcus sighing but for the first time letting the fear come in "Like the boogy man"
"He said that the french- you know that Vietnamese used to be ruled by the French? That the french in the 50s...they went to some kinda site, like a temple or that...and they unlocked something, something bad. Something horrible. maybe it was in World War 2? what ever it got loose. Now they tried to fight it, but it didn't take. But they told america about it so we would fight it with them...and well here we are"
"What about the chinky gooks" came a voice. Marcus turned to Sgt. Aarons there commander a no nonsense little man of no more then 5'2 but had the voice of a man twice that .
"look i am just repeating it. The NVA the Vietcong-they work for it. They run there batons at us, their company's they did that Offensive last month-cause well there frightened. that if they don't fight, she'll kill them. Eat them, make there bones into her bread or something-something worse then dying "
Always the sound of gunfire, some firefight somewhere, some bullets going off. ocasionally it whould putter of into nothing but mostly. it was there
"woman" chuckled Arron "A dame. ts always a dame. A mermaid monster"
"They don't have a lot of stuff on her. But it is a her. Some kinda female thats what the captured solders identify her. some kinda something-maybe not fully human at all, but has the form of it." admited Donald "just saying"
"You said why here?" marcus realized he was saying
"What?" asked donald
"Why here?" said Marcus "Why are we in this god for saken death corner"
"oh" said donald in a manner that Marcus couldn't read was he forgot it or hadn't made up up yet "Well the Khe Valley is apparently where the temple was-where not quite sure where that kinda data got lost-but well this base was supposed to be a forward ops to find it, to find her info on how to stop her, something you know? but they can't find it. Then the NVA came in to stop us-and well here we are. they say shes out there with them. leading them. destroying the cowards, eating them whole in two bites with her flat perfect teeth. Shes out there ready to come in and destroy us herself if she has to."
Marcus paused looking at his oblt for a second when he heard a horrible terrible laugh..it was
Sgt Aarons was tittering. "Thats bullshit. But thats great bullshit. Thats a Classic Dracula story"
"Just repeating" Said Donald shaking his head
"Get back to work"
And so they did. Donald ocasionally bellyaching and talking but back to work. But Marcus felt ill at ease. Half Remembered dreams filled the story with preternatural acess. A woman, what kinda of woman. The lack of details became details. He wanted to press him to see if he had anything else, but that whould just show what a weak coward he was. And he didn't want to be that. not with all these marines everywhere.
Though the marines themselves often looked as scared as he was.
*****
Around 3 Some Shelling hit the base. Not a lot just pot shots really, but two or three big explosions hit the base in what turned out to be the sewer treatment. Fun. One person was lightly injured but more then that it just produced a big stink over the base., litterally the smell of shit and piss. Great. A short but intense burst of rain didn't help any.
After duty there wasn't a lot to do. Squads group gathered and shoot the shit. Marcus some nights whould join them, listening to music laughing joking something.
Not tonight-yeah probabbly somewhere but not in the Cavalary side of Khe Shan. It felt subdued. Marcus in his most recent letter to his parents had asked them to send books-not really carring what just something-but he hadn't got it. There was implication that packages to the grunts in the siege wheren't the biggest prioty.
They had Cigarettes of course but marcus couldn't smoke him. Something about them didn't relax him just made him more nervious-when ever he had tried smoking him here they made it all worse. There was a fair amont of dope on base. ocasionally a wiff or so would give him a subtle hit of something, but he avoided it to-something unsavoray about illegal, that if they did an autopsy on him they didn't want to find that in his blood stream.
Tonight however...it felt quiet. Empty quiet. just the sound of the liquid jungle trying to wash over them, birds, insects, monkeys for all he know..all just making there noise of the dying. and coming back to life with obsense speed.
However what they did have was the ocasional beer, some bottle of wine, bottles of something like wine. when ever they passed the bottle of that he drank. That at least made him feel-not brave, though some one called it liquid bravery, but the idea of the idea of something. Someon in the tent had some and he managed to get a glass of it. tasted like burning firewater, like some cheepest moonshine ever that for a second he was worried about going blind. Marcus didn't.
Instead He had an old Army Manual on the Care and maitence of the Abrhams tank that he had snaged and was reading. it was boring tedius an like a lot of army stuff written for a 15 year old in some places and a college engeener and others...but it was something to read, and not think about her.
and it didn't
Around 8 oclock when it was almost completly silent he got up. He had to piss but really he just couldn't stnad there. no one seemed to object as he walked outside into night to the sound of an eerily silent little base. some people where here and there and he walked...but he ignored them. He should have gone up to just talk but instead he walked off to a bush to piss cause of the non existent preasure
When he saw the frence. They had lights up on it though at this spot it was dim-behind it trees, grasses, behind it something swaying
He turned away for a second and when he turned back he saw her.
Her. He knew her.
"Let me in"
He could make out the details. She was small. not so big. Even though he was a 200 or so feet away her height was noticeable it was small. Her Skin was Pale. Vietnemese people looked different then that which is how he knew she wasn't some Vietnamese soldier. She had black hair and some kinda eyes he couldn't make out wearing what looked to be some kind of Victorian dress of lace and ruffle half decayed off by time. she looked like a ghost.
"Let me in" said the voice. there wasn't an accent. maybe french? he didn't know. All he know was it sounded less like a voice and that voices of the jungle where mimicking the sound of something, that the insects and the wind in the trees where becoming...
And he ran. Ran hard. Ran Fast. as far as he could go in the oppsotie direction.
He ran and he ran. somewhere someone said something like "Solder what" but he ignored them running in abstract and total fear of something
"Let me in". Her. It. Her.
He got to the medical ward area as deep in the base as there was when he stopped. let me in. He didn't like coming here. he could see the bags they used for bodies hear low moans coming over.
He closed his eyes. and then he opened them. It was her.
Her eyes where Blue like a blue no human had ever been. Her hair was a Blackish but almost blue no hair had never been. there was very little light her except the moon but it glowed, somehow it didn't depend on illumination to look at her-but she was flesh. she was blood that much was aparent. small in frame large in proportions. Chest hips, lips hair all there...all
"When i said let me in it was a curtesy" she said smiling she put a hand softly on his chest to stroke it. "A request, becuse i like it" There was something sing song to it slightly litttling little voice
"I'm sorry you frightened me" he said. He knew about the logic of dreams, about how things that where incredible you did becuse. this didn't have the logic of dreams. he said it becuse he was terrifed
"Are you a virigin?" she asked absently looking at his chest. "Private Williams"
"Um"
"Please don't lie about anything. i find it unbecoming" she grabed his shoulder with delicate hands and while the pressure wasn't that thick somehow he knew that much behind it. so much. that if he.
"Also don't scream"
"Yes" he admired. He had a girlfriend in high school that had never
"Ahhh" she said "I like Virgins. i find them so amusing, clean there is something about them. Virgins. i chose well"
she walked away letting go turning her back..still don't...he wanted to.
"Whats your plans"
"Um...go home live a long time maybe work in mec..."
"Married?"
"probably"
"That would be fun" she said "Would you like to marry me. have a big white dress, and possy plants and feed each other cake. "
"Um...."
In an instant she was bheind him..litterally an instant. he first thought this was like a jump cut in a movie, and that he was dreaming but she grabbed him and held him and he felt pain from it. then a lick on his neck.
"Of course you want to marry me. you would do anything i say. Cause if you don't"
"Please just let me go..."
She giggled. he could no longer see her but he could hear her giggle.
"I'll rephrase. What is the army planning with your base?"
He sighed
"There sending divisions north. there about 30 miles away trying to brake through to retake the area around this . There having trouble. on the Lunar New Year the Vietcong did this big attack all over the country as a distraction-but there coming, don't know when there getting here"
"How many divisions ?
"2.... i think elements of 3. Lot of Airforce"
"Is that so difficult?" the woman said. she turned and walked in front of him
"What are you he asked?"
"Its not what i am that is of issue. its what i can do and what i want. Right now i am amused by pitting army against army battle against battle. They think they can find my weakness here. Idiots. silly though and fun."
Just then a massive Artillery burst came in the biggest that Marcus had ever saw, bursts of giant fire coming in huge shots in the air that he could barely make out they move so fast coming in big burst landing near them creating massive gouts of fire all over the base.
He turned to run hoping that it would distract her, kill her something her..he kept running and running as he looked up to see one go right at him.
When he got pushed aside 20 feet away in a single push. now you may think this is a movie where this is some kind act of safety. instead it felt like he had been hit by a truck. a massive fucking push right in his solar plexisu as he move and hit a wall of a tent sleeping over in the mud of the ground breaking several bones in his chest and his right leg in four places. the muscles there where none better, his left arm. though strangely his right was fine as he felt pain wash over him then leave in a shock.
And she was over him.
Standing in what looked to be the spot of an NVA rocket. He hadn't seen it but knew that it had hit her and...
"My own men know i am here you see. They did that not to kill you, but tried to kill me. There both trying to. This entire war is"
Her perfect flat Teath smiled.
"Please don't kill me," Said Williams " Please don't kill me..i am begging you begging you...i will do anything anything"
"Are you scared?"
"Yes. Yes i am scared. i am terrifed. Please"
She smiled and turned and walked away.
"You have pleased me. Never marry"
And she disappeared into the night.
*In July of 1968 Operation Pegasus Broke through to the south of Khe Shan. There in one of the most massive ground battles of the war, Offically the NVA where pushed back-however within two months there was a strategic retreat from the region to focus on other areas of the conflict. There was some talk of a larger push force that the forces where impossibly strong-but the army denied that
The Army considered many tactics to end the war- even nuclear bombs, but ultimately no. Instead slowly over the next 4 years officially and 4 years they kept fighting the enemy what ever that was until all of Vietnam was taken by the North.
Private Williams for his part was Air Vaced to Saigon and Eventually Stateside where he recovered from his injuries. He would walk again, though for the rest of his life he would need a cane. He got an office Job at an Auto part Distributor in Kansas where he worked for 30 more years living a quiet life.
He was a handsome man. People would occasionally tease him calling him gay or something for lack of love life. Though he never married, never did any of that.
He was waiting for her.
And he would dream of the jungle.*
Last edit: 30 Sep 2016 13:52 by castor.
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30 Sep 2016 13:44 #50509
by Woodclaw
Replied by Woodclaw on topic To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration)
Well thanks to Castor for starting this up, often getting the first entry is the hardest part and it's a pretty nice story too, although I'm not sure how your story connects to my opening.
While I deliberately left out any precise time reference, I was hoping that the appearence of various present day items -- like helmet mounted cams and pen drives -- would suggest that the whole story was set in a present-ish time going back six months top -- as suggested by the ubergirl comment. Whereas your seem to be set during the Vietnam War, so I'm kind of lost reganding how the two should be connected.
While I deliberately left out any precise time reference, I was hoping that the appearence of various present day items -- like helmet mounted cams and pen drives -- would suggest that the whole story was set in a present-ish time going back six months top -- as suggested by the ubergirl comment. Whereas your seem to be set during the Vietnam War, so I'm kind of lost reganding how the two should be connected.
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30 Sep 2016 14:03 #50510
by castor
Replied by castor on topic To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration)
I took it to be the present day for your part, with an open active conflict, but it had been going on much farther.
There is never a line that all 10 happened in the six month but that at least 10 times it had happened, which is how stories often go. My ideas was that at least one, if not the first attempt to stop her was the Vietnam War. Not in the Vietnam War, but the Vietnam War.
It did go to an idea i had that this is a more Apocalyptic story then just "They shot rockets at her" , and to suggest shes Really *Powerful*.
There is never a line that all 10 happened in the six month but that at least 10 times it had happened, which is how stories often go. My ideas was that at least one, if not the first attempt to stop her was the Vietnam War. Not in the Vietnam War, but the Vietnam War.
It did go to an idea i had that this is a more Apocalyptic story then just "They shot rockets at her" , and to suggest shes Really *Powerful*.
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30 Sep 2016 18:54 #50516
by Woodclaw
I understand your idea and I respect what you're trying to accomplish, but this might work better as a prelude or addendum to the finished ten entries since it kind of defies two of the point I tried to insert in the premise: the idea that all that happens is within 6 months (to quote "In these past six months you sent your soldiers after me time and time again."), two that the video file contains an actual showcase of her abilities in the form of video records taken from a variety of sources (security cam, cell phones etc).
As I said, your entry might be an excellent addition to my planned epilogue, but as an opening that was supposed to go after that "Number 10 ..." moment, it lacks connection.
For the saqke of example this was the old thread I took inspiration from .
Replied by Woodclaw on topic To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration)
castor wrote: I took it to be the present day for your part, with an open active conflict, but it had been going on much farther.
There is never a line that all 10 happened in the six month but that at least 10 times it had happened, which is how stories often go. My ideas was that at least one, if not the first attempt to stop her was the Vietnam War. Not in the Vietnam War, but the Vietnam War.
It did go to an idea i had that this is a more Apocalyptic story then just "They shot rockets at her" , and to suggest shes Really *Powerful*.
I understand your idea and I respect what you're trying to accomplish, but this might work better as a prelude or addendum to the finished ten entries since it kind of defies two of the point I tried to insert in the premise: the idea that all that happens is within 6 months (to quote "In these past six months you sent your soldiers after me time and time again."), two that the video file contains an actual showcase of her abilities in the form of video records taken from a variety of sources (security cam, cell phones etc).
As I said, your entry might be an excellent addition to my planned epilogue, but as an opening that was supposed to go after that "Number 10 ..." moment, it lacks connection.
For the saqke of example this was the old thread I took inspiration from .
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01 Oct 2016 04:54 #50524
by castor
Replied by castor on topic To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration)
Sorry if i didn't do the kinda story you wanted.
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01 Oct 2016 09:15 #50526
by Woodclaw
There's no need to apologize, as I said you wrote a good story that made me rethink some of the project and I'm going to use it later on. If you wish the opening spot is still there.
Replied by Woodclaw on topic To Kill an Ubergirl (a 10 step collaboration)
castor wrote: Sorry if i didn't do the kinda story you wanted.
There's no need to apologize, as I said you wrote a good story that made me rethink some of the project and I'm going to use it later on. If you wish the opening spot is still there.
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