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Post by Andy F² on Aug 16, 2004 22:04:16 GMT -5
Smoke hung heavily in the air of the dimly-lit meeting room. A group of men in highly decorated military uniforms were clustered quietly around a patterned table, covered in miniature plastic tanks and jets to represent the warring armies. The American General was the first to break the silence. ‘Yes, Colonel. I can see damn well that we are outnumbered. But what I want to know is what we can do about it.’ His grey eyebrows twitched with anger and his aged wrinkles and flabby cheeks grew taught with frustration. ‘Surrender is not an option.’ The Colonel visibly cowered back, as though to distance himself from an imminent explosion. ‘I….I don’t know. I have nev-’ he began, but was interrupted by the General’s barking voice. ‘Dammit!’ he shouted. ‘I will not accept defeat!’ The General’s eyes roved the room furiously. He examined the flaking cracks of pale yellow wallpaper, the cloudy windows and the tiled floor, as though the answer he sought was hidden there. His eyes finally came to rest on a small toy sitting awkwardly on the dusty window ledge. The General squinted his eyes at it, and then said ‘What in God’s name is that?’ The Colonel, now more terrified than ever, took a while to formulate his reply. ‘It’s just a toy my son brought along for-‘ ‘Dammit, I can see it’s a toy! I want to know why it looks so familiar!’ Someone else around the table took his chance to speak. He wore an Airforce General’s uniform, and his eyes were rolled back as though fighting to recall some distant, long lost memory. ‘Hrmm…that’s the…what was it…the Roswell Incident.’ ‘Ah yes, the General replied. ‘The Roswell Incident.’ He casually strolled over to a filing cabinet, pulled open a draw marked ‘R-T’ and removed a tatty brown file which he quickly blew over to send thick clouds of dust into the air. Slowly, he walked back to the table, opened the file, and removed an old black and white photo from the paperclip inside. He gazed intently at it for a short while. Next to speak was the Airforce Major. ‘The Roswell Incident? But wasn’t that a flying saucer?’ The General took his eyes away from the photo, and layed it upon the table. He spoke with an un-emotional voice. ‘That, gentlemen, is the flying saucer.
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Post by Andy F² on Aug 16, 2004 22:15:30 GMT -5
The picture was of a huge mechanical dragon, crashed down and almost bent double amongst the trees. The people around the table looked at the photo, and then at the toy. They all wore the same mystified expressions on their faces. The General spoke once more. ‘Would someone be kind enough to tell me how highly classified information is being sold as a damn toy?’ he boomed. Deathly silence fell. ‘Well? Someone must know.’ Still no-one spoke, but there were a few head-shakes. The General began pacing up and down, deep in thought. ‘Where is this…this thing being stored?’ The Colonel spoke again. ‘Nevada Desert…Area 51.’ Area 51…prepare my Jet. We shall depart at once. But what about the meeting? A lower-ranking officer asked. The General glared. ‘Damn the meeting! We shall leave at once! No-one dared to speak again. Some rapidly re-packed their briefcases and made for the door, others loitered around before leaving. The General, however, waited until everyone was gone, walked over to the window, and picked the purple toy dragon up by its tail. He fiddled with the wind-up knob, and watched as the legs waggled about helplessly in the air and the wings flapped. A smile crept across his otherwise emotionally barren face, and his brown eyes twinkled with some long-lost life. He walked back over to the table, and with a quick sweep of his arm, used the toy to wipe the entire collection of opposing plastic tanks and aircraft off the table. He laughed, and then followed everyone else to the jet.
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Post by Andy F² on Aug 16, 2004 22:33:02 GMT -5
The General flung open the doors of Area 51’s holding bay, brandishing the toy like some kind of sword. He surveyed the cavern around him, as did the group of men clustered behind. A tall, bespectacled man with long, white, frizzy hair made his way over the shining, pure white floor towards the group with his spotless lab-coat billowing behind him. ‘Can I help you? he grinned. The General didn’t even flash a smile. ‘Would you explain this?’ He pointed the toy at the scientist’s neck, as though preparing to stab him with it. His smile broke like glass, and his eyes bulged behind his glasses. He regarded the toy for a grave moment, and then whispered ‘You better follow me.’
The scientist led them through the foyer, and gestured for them to follow him through some translucent soft plastic flaps hanging from the roof and into a heavily air conditioned, domed, silver room. There in front of them stood a gigantic metal version of the toy the General had in his hand – easily 10 meters long – surrounded by computer terminals. The machine’s purple metal armor shone in the reflected light, and cast eerie shadows across the wall. Wires hung from the head, which on closer inspection, contained a seat and control instruments. To the side, separated from the machine, were 2 huge wings, made from what appeared to be glass, but had a very un-glassy luster to them. The scientist turned to look at the group of military men. ‘We recovered this baby from the Roswell crash site in 1947. The public knew something major had happened - we tried to tell them it was a weather balloon, but of course they had none of it and decided it was a ‘flying saucer’ or ‘little green men.’. Hah! How wrong they were. The pilot of this was, as near as we could tell, very similar to us humans. Carbon-based, oxygen breathing…even similar to us in shape. However, his DNA structure was completely different – the was no way that he could have been human. Of course, as you probably know, he died soon after the crash, leaving us to figure this mess out alone. The machine itself appears to actually be alive. It has a living heart, or a core, with what appears to be a synthetic shell around it, the body. This can be controlled by the pilot, whilst the core keeps it functioning and even controls it to a minimum extent.’ The scientist paused, as though thinking what to say next. ‘In 1956, we discovered a way to trawl through this machines memory bank. We got into combat data, tactical readouts, enemy unit identification, allied unit identification, images…this thing was a fully functional, state of the art war machine, not some petty spaceship!’ The General nodded, smiling. ‘Please continue.’ ‘Using these various readouts, we were able to compile a list of what appear to be similar units.’ The scientist pointed over to the wall, where there was a chart showing about a hundred pictures of robotic animals, each different in size, design and structure. ‘Do they all have to look like animals?’ The General asked, looking bemused. The scientist smiled. ‘It seems that way, yes. Anyway, in 1979, a printout identical to the one you are now looking at vanished, as did one of our members of staff. We organized an extensive search, but even a year later, nothing was found. We reluctantly had to call off the search. However, in 1974, very basic models of the machines shown on the chart began to surface from Japan. 5 of them at first, I believe, and then more. We didn’t feel that any action was necessary, as the general public would simply look at them as figments of some designer’s imagination, and not real alien war machines. If I recall, they are still pumping them out to this day. I suppose the fact that you have one there implies that this is the case.’ The scientist finished, smiling once again. The General stared blankly as he took in the last of the information. Finally, he blinked, and looked at the scientist. ‘But what is it?’ he asked. ‘It refers to itself as a ‘Zoid.’ Or a ‘Redler Unit’, to be precise. ‘You did a good job reconstructing it.’ The scientist smiled even more. ‘Thanks.’ ‘Is it operational?’ ‘As near as we can tell. It hasn’t been tested yet, and we are still unsure of its combat capabilities.’ ‘Is it possible to build more like it?’ ‘It would be impractical-‘ ‘Is it possible?’ ‘We would need a huge amount of fundin-‘ ‘damn it, I said IS IT POSSIBLE!?’ The General had turned a very unhealthy shade of purple. ‘Yes.’ The scientist said flatly. ‘That is what I wanted to hear. Then let’s begin.’
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gilvader
Captain
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"I know what the ladies like..."
Posts: 588
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Post by gilvader on Aug 17, 2004 2:47:31 GMT -5
A very interesting idea.I'll definitly want to read more of this. ![:)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/smiley.png)
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skatemonkey89
Captain
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life for you has been less than kind, so take a number, stand in line
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Post by skatemonkey89 on Aug 17, 2004 6:52:14 GMT -5
@_@
awsome!!!
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Post by Saix on Sept 25, 2004 23:55:02 GMT -5
My return of scanning the Fan-Fics section and this is what I find?!
I'm impressed, Andy. Very impressed. The little details make it seem so real. I can picture everything.
I'm looking forward to seeing more. ^ ^
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