sozme
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2013
- Messages
- 200
Hello, just wanted some feedback on this scene. It occurs in the middle of a chapter.
Particularly want to know how I can improve the emotional descriptions as well as the fight itself.
=====================================================================
Since construction of the Vactrain, the underground pathway had fallen into disuse and neglect. The heavily worn cement was scarred with asymmetric cracks and crevices. Overhead, several of the ancient sealed-beam lights were extinguished or flickering. The black painted signs on the walls were chipped or missing, some taped over with hand-written equivalents.
As they walked, he grew irritated at the slow pace of his shorter-legged companions. He was about to voice this complaint when he heard the sound of approaching footfalls.
“SCAR trainees,” Baker said, waving them towards the wall.
He glanced down the corridor as a large ranger led a band of barely adult men towards them. The group was uniformly dressed in black cargo pants and dark blue shirts with the SCAR logo - a hideously fanged rat superimposed on two scythes.
A surge of irritation hit him as he identified the leader of the group as Lucius Kane, son of Lord Commander Oren Kane.
Like his father, Kane had dark black skin and a long, broad nose. He was exceptionally tall and wide, with limbs the size of tree trunks. Unnaturally hypertrophied muscles bulged out of the form-fitting fabric of his t-shirt.
Kane spotted him as their groups crossed paths. “Hold up, boys,” he said, raising a hand the size of a holiday ham.
The trainees came to a sudden halt, confusion written on their faces. They were now inadvertently blocking the passage forward.
Baker scowled. “Ranger Kane, we’re in a hurry, please move-”
“Just take a second,” he said, nodding towards Cannon. He advanced through the invisible boundary separating their side of the corridor, stopping within half a foot of Cannon.
“Never seen an asshole so close before,” Cannon said.
Kane looked him up-and-down like a peculiar museum exhibit. “I just want to thank you,” he began, ignoring the insult. “For agreeing to spare us further embarrassment.”
Cannon’s brow netted in confusion.
“And I mean,” Kane continued, “It’s not like you can do much damage in the Patrol.”
Noticing Cannon’s look of surprise, he recoiled in mocked astonishment. “Oh, they didn’t tell you?” he said, chuckling.
Cannon’s eyes narrowed, feeling the ire rise inside him. “Tell me what?”
Baker stepped forward. “Come on gentlemen,” he said, forming a barrier between them with one arm. “Let’s be on our separate ways.”
Feeling his patience wearing thin, Cannon swatted Baker’s arm away like a house fly. The shocked MP shuffled backwards a step, holding both arms in the air in a “I give up” gesture.
Cannon zeroed in on Kane. “They shoehorned you into my job?” he said through gritted teeth.
Kane seemed to sense his anger with great satisfaction, a smug grin playing across his face.
“Can’t believe they didn’t tell you,” he said, shaking his head in a slow, theatric manner. “Always making their backroom deals.”
Electricity surged through him, making him stiffen with rage. “You back-stabbing piece of-”
“If only sacrificing Klein and Campbell had actually saved your girlfriend.” he interrupted.
Her image invaded his mind, piercing his angry heart with despair. For a split second, his eyes fell to the ground.
“You know, I do wonder though,” he said. “How did they know that Jinga bitch was carrying your kid?”
The slur sent a collective gasp through the crowd.
Cannon felt his face burn as rage bubbled over like a cauldron inside him.
An anxious silence fell upon the corridor. On the wall, the trainees studied them with nervous intrigue, as if watching two generals duel for control of the empire.
Cannon glanced briefly at his guards. Could they stop him from breaking Kane’s neck? Then, like treasure from the seafloor, a new idea floated to the surface. He smiled.
“It’s good the old man looks out for you,” Cannon said in a calm, controlled voice. “Did he give your sister the same attention?”
Kane’s sh*t-eating grin vanished in an instant.
“Maybe if the pig got her out of that whorehouse-” he continued.
“Don’t,” interrupted warned, his voice dangerous.
“Maybe they wouldn’t have sliced her throat open and diced her up like an onion.”
Silence in the corridor. One of the lights flickered rapidly overhead.
Kane stood rigid, his face screwed up in rage. Baker stared in stunned silence, possibly wondering if his four goons could maintain the peace.
Cannon grinned.
“Master Kane,” one of the brave trainees said into the silence. “Let’s move out, sir.”
Baker nodded, saying, “Good idea.” He turned to the other guards and jerked his head in the desired direction. The two belligerents remained inches apart in a deadlocked stare, blocking the path of three MPs.
Kane’s hand shot up in the air in a “stop” motion, bringing two of them to a sudden halt. One ignored the gesture and tried to maneuver past them. Kane seized his arm and yanked, sending him flying down the hall like a discarded doll.
“What did you say?” Kane’s black eyes bore into him with a look of sheer, undisguised hatred.
Cannon felt his adrenaline flowing. “What I said was,” he began. “If your whore sister-”
Kane’s fist shot at him like a bullet. Expecting it, he cut hard left, the missile flying an inch past his ear. Kane lurched forward with his own momentum, exposing the right side of his head. With his back foot planted, Cannon fired a rocket straight into his temple. A resounding crack was heard as he connected, and Kane slammed into the pavement with a thud.
Cannon’s heart pounded as he towered over his unconscious opponent. And stay there you traitorous piece of trash.
In that instant, his ears registered the sound of rifle safeties clicking as three muzzles were shoved in his face. The cast-aside MP was still picking himself and his gun off the floor.
“Stand down!” Baker yelled, genuine panic in his eyes. “Now!”
He took a deep breath to slow his heart as the guns were lowered back to the ground. Watching the slowly-expanding pool of crimson-red form behind Kane’s head, he felt a rush of endorphins and feel-good chemicals pour into him. An ear-to-ear smile lit up his face.
The trainees beheld him with slackened jaws and wide-eyes, like a mythical beast whose appearance shattered their very sense of reality. From experience, Cannon knew that trainees tended to idolize their instructors, and profane was the notion that any mere mortal could fell them. For Kane, the severe brain damage would be temporary, thanks to the nano-dendrites installed during Induction. The damage to his image, however, was irreparable.
As he was ushered away, Cannon felt this knowledge boost him further, sending him into a kind of manic state where it no longer mattered that was on his way to a prison cell.
Baker led the group away, peering over his shoulder repeatedly as they walked. A few minutes later, he stopped their march and turned around. “That didn’t happen.”
=====================================================================
Particularly want to know how I can improve the emotional descriptions as well as the fight itself.
=====================================================================
Since construction of the Vactrain, the underground pathway had fallen into disuse and neglect. The heavily worn cement was scarred with asymmetric cracks and crevices. Overhead, several of the ancient sealed-beam lights were extinguished or flickering. The black painted signs on the walls were chipped or missing, some taped over with hand-written equivalents.
As they walked, he grew irritated at the slow pace of his shorter-legged companions. He was about to voice this complaint when he heard the sound of approaching footfalls.
“SCAR trainees,” Baker said, waving them towards the wall.
He glanced down the corridor as a large ranger led a band of barely adult men towards them. The group was uniformly dressed in black cargo pants and dark blue shirts with the SCAR logo - a hideously fanged rat superimposed on two scythes.
A surge of irritation hit him as he identified the leader of the group as Lucius Kane, son of Lord Commander Oren Kane.
Like his father, Kane had dark black skin and a long, broad nose. He was exceptionally tall and wide, with limbs the size of tree trunks. Unnaturally hypertrophied muscles bulged out of the form-fitting fabric of his t-shirt.
Kane spotted him as their groups crossed paths. “Hold up, boys,” he said, raising a hand the size of a holiday ham.
The trainees came to a sudden halt, confusion written on their faces. They were now inadvertently blocking the passage forward.
Baker scowled. “Ranger Kane, we’re in a hurry, please move-”
“Just take a second,” he said, nodding towards Cannon. He advanced through the invisible boundary separating their side of the corridor, stopping within half a foot of Cannon.
“Never seen an asshole so close before,” Cannon said.
Kane looked him up-and-down like a peculiar museum exhibit. “I just want to thank you,” he began, ignoring the insult. “For agreeing to spare us further embarrassment.”
Cannon’s brow netted in confusion.
“And I mean,” Kane continued, “It’s not like you can do much damage in the Patrol.”
Noticing Cannon’s look of surprise, he recoiled in mocked astonishment. “Oh, they didn’t tell you?” he said, chuckling.
Cannon’s eyes narrowed, feeling the ire rise inside him. “Tell me what?”
Baker stepped forward. “Come on gentlemen,” he said, forming a barrier between them with one arm. “Let’s be on our separate ways.”
Feeling his patience wearing thin, Cannon swatted Baker’s arm away like a house fly. The shocked MP shuffled backwards a step, holding both arms in the air in a “I give up” gesture.
Cannon zeroed in on Kane. “They shoehorned you into my job?” he said through gritted teeth.
Kane seemed to sense his anger with great satisfaction, a smug grin playing across his face.
“Can’t believe they didn’t tell you,” he said, shaking his head in a slow, theatric manner. “Always making their backroom deals.”
Electricity surged through him, making him stiffen with rage. “You back-stabbing piece of-”
“If only sacrificing Klein and Campbell had actually saved your girlfriend.” he interrupted.
Her image invaded his mind, piercing his angry heart with despair. For a split second, his eyes fell to the ground.
“You know, I do wonder though,” he said. “How did they know that Jinga bitch was carrying your kid?”
The slur sent a collective gasp through the crowd.
Cannon felt his face burn as rage bubbled over like a cauldron inside him.
An anxious silence fell upon the corridor. On the wall, the trainees studied them with nervous intrigue, as if watching two generals duel for control of the empire.
Cannon glanced briefly at his guards. Could they stop him from breaking Kane’s neck? Then, like treasure from the seafloor, a new idea floated to the surface. He smiled.
“It’s good the old man looks out for you,” Cannon said in a calm, controlled voice. “Did he give your sister the same attention?”
Kane’s sh*t-eating grin vanished in an instant.
“Maybe if the pig got her out of that whorehouse-” he continued.
“Don’t,” interrupted warned, his voice dangerous.
“Maybe they wouldn’t have sliced her throat open and diced her up like an onion.”
Silence in the corridor. One of the lights flickered rapidly overhead.
Kane stood rigid, his face screwed up in rage. Baker stared in stunned silence, possibly wondering if his four goons could maintain the peace.
Cannon grinned.
“Master Kane,” one of the brave trainees said into the silence. “Let’s move out, sir.”
Baker nodded, saying, “Good idea.” He turned to the other guards and jerked his head in the desired direction. The two belligerents remained inches apart in a deadlocked stare, blocking the path of three MPs.
Kane’s hand shot up in the air in a “stop” motion, bringing two of them to a sudden halt. One ignored the gesture and tried to maneuver past them. Kane seized his arm and yanked, sending him flying down the hall like a discarded doll.
“What did you say?” Kane’s black eyes bore into him with a look of sheer, undisguised hatred.
Cannon felt his adrenaline flowing. “What I said was,” he began. “If your whore sister-”
Kane’s fist shot at him like a bullet. Expecting it, he cut hard left, the missile flying an inch past his ear. Kane lurched forward with his own momentum, exposing the right side of his head. With his back foot planted, Cannon fired a rocket straight into his temple. A resounding crack was heard as he connected, and Kane slammed into the pavement with a thud.
Cannon’s heart pounded as he towered over his unconscious opponent. And stay there you traitorous piece of trash.
In that instant, his ears registered the sound of rifle safeties clicking as three muzzles were shoved in his face. The cast-aside MP was still picking himself and his gun off the floor.
“Stand down!” Baker yelled, genuine panic in his eyes. “Now!”
He took a deep breath to slow his heart as the guns were lowered back to the ground. Watching the slowly-expanding pool of crimson-red form behind Kane’s head, he felt a rush of endorphins and feel-good chemicals pour into him. An ear-to-ear smile lit up his face.
The trainees beheld him with slackened jaws and wide-eyes, like a mythical beast whose appearance shattered their very sense of reality. From experience, Cannon knew that trainees tended to idolize their instructors, and profane was the notion that any mere mortal could fell them. For Kane, the severe brain damage would be temporary, thanks to the nano-dendrites installed during Induction. The damage to his image, however, was irreparable.
As he was ushered away, Cannon felt this knowledge boost him further, sending him into a kind of manic state where it no longer mattered that was on his way to a prison cell.
Baker led the group away, peering over his shoulder repeatedly as they walked. A few minutes later, he stopped their march and turned around. “That didn’t happen.”
=====================================================================
