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The Re-birth

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  • beanmachine43


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Posted 23 May 2005 - 03:31 AM

Well, I decided to take a break from all the GTA stuff. I’m starting anew with a story that’s totally different. What I mean by that is that it has twice as many guns!

Right now, I’m just in the basics, and this is just some background info. Basically, like a prologue:

The story takes place in the year 2034:

Since the fall of the Soviet Union, Russia has been a quite peaceful nation. That is, until now. The country has had some internal problems over the past decade (Since 2020). They were able to put down any resistance, until the year 2030. That was a year of a bloody coup. The rebels claimed that Russian leaders were unjust, and that they be punished. Their leader, Sergei Molotov, used to be a respected Russian general. He helped participate in the invasion of China as a soldier, but came back as a respected officer.

After the fall of China, in 2026, he became famous for treating his troops like dogs. That was the beginning of his downfall. The president of Russia at the time, Olga Grueskev, stripped him of his position, due to horrible treatment of his underlings. He argued that it turned them into men, and stayed at his post. She then jailed him for disobeying a direct order. That didn’t help though, as he escaped on his second day of imprisonment. He revolted against her, saying that she was unjust. So, on July 4th, 2030, followers of Molotov marched into Moscow and cleaned the place out. He spared no one; children, women, elderly, and even animals were ordered to be shot on sight.

After the city was nearly destroyed, he marched into the capital building. He demanded that Grueskev be brought to him. Seeing that they were outnumbered, the royal guards did as they were told. She dropped to her knees before him, and asked him to spare her. He drew his trusty revolver and shot her in the forehead. Right there he declared his independence from Russia. On July 4th, 2030, he announced himself as the leader of the Soviet Union. That was how Sergei Molotov came to power.

His very first command as the dictator of the Soviet Union was an invasion of America. For four years he trained troops and built weapons. It was a one-sided arms race, each and everyday more recruits came, ready to fight for their new country. There were too many troops for their military to hold, so many soldiers had to sleep at their residence.

Even though America didn’t know about the invasion, the government prepared for war. Seeing that the new country was building itself up, drafts were held all over the country. Now, it was a full-out arms race between America and the new and improved Soviet Union. The Soviets had more recruits, but America had a better sense of technology. The war was inevitable; it was going to happen sooner or later.

This is where the story puts you in Brian McGowan’s shoes, an American soldier.

  • Kayuni


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Posted 23 May 2005 - 04:04 AM

Nice use of vocabulary for the most part, and well-written. I look forward to seeing more of this story.

  • beanmachine43


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  • Joined: 21 Feb 2005


Posted 24 May 2005 - 03:08 AM

The Re-Birth

Chapter 1

“Hey baby, do you have to work today?”

I opened the bathroom door and looked at my fiancée sympathetically, “I’m sorry babe, I have to. The boss said one more if I take one more sick day, then I lose my job.”

“Are you sure you wanna go?”

My spouse pulled her robe up her long, slender thigh. I, naturally stared at it.


I snapped back into it, “Uh, no, I can’t. Look, I’ll try to come home early, okay?”

Michelle nodded her head, seeing that she had no chance. I looked into her bright blue eyes, and I lost my composure, “How about dinner, just you and me.”

Her face lit up, “That’d be nice, Brian. I better go get my hair done then.”

I took a look at her long, gorgeous hair, “No honey, I like your hair blonde.”

She stared back at me, “Oh, really? I never thought I looked to good with blonde.”

“What?” I said, “You look best with your natural hair color!”

She smiled and pecked me on my cheek, and walked to the bathroom. I started to walk out the door, and grabbed my things.

“Brian!” I heard her yell, “Yeah?” I answered back. “Make sure to do a good story on, uh, whatever you’re working on!”

I smiled and walked out the door, not before saying goodbye, “See ya, Michelle!”

I closed the front door and began to walk down the hallway. You guessed it, I live in an apartment. It wasn’t even that bad, considering that I live in Seattle, and that almost every place here is taken up. I checked the mail box. I don’t know why, seeing that it’s Sunday. I walked down a few flight of stairs. I would’ve used the elevator, but since it was out of order, you understand. I walked into the main entrance of the complex. I saw an Indian couple trying to rent out an apartment. I wished them good luck in my head, seeing that it’s nearly impossible to try to get a place here.

After I walked out the door, I realized that I was smiling. I don’t know why, maybe I just felt good today. It might’ve been because I’m getting married in a week and my sister’s pregnant. For some reason, people think it’s a bad idea to get married at twenty-six, but I just say, “Who cares if you’re in love, right?”

I took out my keys and electronically unlocked my Chrysler Crossfire. No modifications on it, just a stock care, except I have a sick sound system. You must be thinking, why a twenty-six year-old white guy would have a sound system.

Well, I was raised in what was back then known as the “projects”. People always made fun of my skin color, so I tried to identify with them by doing what they did, listened to what they did, whatever. I guess I kind of grew to like my murder rap. At around high school, I got into journalism and moved out of hood.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you my life story, back to the story.

I entered my car and put my stuff down. I turned on the radio real quick to listen to the traffic update. Nothing, I guess radios don’t really work after they’ve been smashed. I looked at my radio; it was completely demolished with what looked like a hammer.

“Fu*k!” I yelled.

You’d figured in the year 2034, they’d have better car alarms. I tried to fix it, but got tired with it and threw out the driver side window.

“Damn,” I thought, “I just got my new 2pac CD.”

Yeah, that’s right; Pac is still coming out with new material.

I shrugged it off, figuring I’d just get a new one. I turned the car on, and pulled out of my spot. I turned onto the main road, no real heavy traffic so far.

After around five blocks, I turned into my company parking lot. Just because it’s only five blocks, doesn’t mean you can’t drive with style. I shut my door and locked my car.

I walked into the “Seattle Times” entrance. I don’t know why I did that, because I just ran back out to my car. I forgot my camera and papers. I put them all in an old briefcase and jogged back into the building.


I turned around to see my boss smiling at me.

“Uh, yes Mr. Strickland?” I was scared he was happy; it’s usually a bad sign.

“You’re going to be working on that Soviet Union affair.”

I hung me head, “C’mon sir, that’s old news. Let me do a story on the president’s secret affair!” I said with energy.

He looked at me with a confused look on his face, “President Wilson?”

I nodded my head, “Yeah, the only president we have.”

That didn’t make him too happy, “Okay smarty-pants, let’s just see how smart you after you do that story.”

I sighed in relief, but that was to be short lived.

“After you do an article on the Soviet activites.”

He then walked down the hall behind me. I sighed, this time in sadness. I walked over to my cubicle. I sat down and began to work on the assignment.

I looked on the internet; they always seem to have info.

But, before I looked up anything on the Soviets, I stopped by at GTA Forums to see if anyone replied to my topic. Five replies since my last visit. I smiled and figured I’d take a look at those later. Playing GTA was a dark secret of mine. I guess I liked it so much because I pretended that all those people I was slaughtering were Mr. Strickland.

So anyway, I looked up "The New Soviets" on Google. The first result was exactly I was looking for.

“Damn, internet’s awesome,” I thought.

I took down every little note and description I saw. I then separated them to fact from fiction. I had everything I needed to complete the article, except a citizen’s opinion. I decided to call my sis, but I hung up seeing how they were having a baby shower at my place. I just decided to make one up. Her name was Patricia Oliver. I had her think that the Soviets were evil and should be killed immediately.

“Perfect,” I thought.

I typed up the article and saved it to the company’s database, all done. I walked over to and looked out the window of the Seattle Times HQ. I looked over to the South. I saw my apartment complex. Believe it or not, I saw a pair of binoculars sitting on a table next to me. I grabbed them and attempted to spot my window. I saw it and tried to peer inside. I couldn’t make anything out, so I turned my attention elsewhere.

I looked over to the West, towards the Pacific. I saw hundreds of fighter jets flying towards the tall skyscrapers and buildings.

“Must be the Blue Angels,” I thought.

They didn’t look too modern, maybe made around twenty years ago. I looked back at the jets, they weren’t slowing down. In fact, it looked like they were speeding up.

I put down the binoculars and looked with my naked eyes. What I see I couldn’t believe. A fighter jet crashed into the Space Needle head-on. I looked over at the others; they too were crashing into buildings. Some were even firing missiles. I couldn’t believe it, I thought I was dreaming. I wasn’t, as everyone on the floor was looking out the window too.

I finally realized what was happening; the Soviets have started the invasion. I looked towards the ocean, and what I saw I thought was a figure of my imagination. There was dozens of battleships and hundreds of smaller ships.

I looked over to Michelle’s building and back at a nearby jet. I put two and two together. No! The jet collided straight into the side of the building. It didn’t topple; in fact it barely seemed phased.

I thanked God and prayed nothing else would happen to it.

I heard a loud bang and saw the Space Needle topple over. It landed on dozens of buildings, including our new museum.

I looked behind me; people were panicking and running around. I saw a few people trying to calm others down. I turned back ahead of me; another jet was heading to my apartment. Four missiles came out of the jet and exploded on contact with my place. The building then exploded along with my wife and sister.

"Oh God! This can’t be happening!"

I ran down a flight of stairs. Along the way I saw a dead person laying on a flight of stairs. I ignored that and continued to proceed towards the bottom floor. There was a window for a fire escape. I decided to jump out of it, but looked outside it first. I saw a jet coming straight for me. Naturally, I ducked and jumped down a story worth of stairs. The jet didn’t collide; instead it shot machine gun fire at the building, nearly totaling the side.

I broke out of the place and ran towards my car. People were fleeing for their lives. Dead children littered the place. I saw all of this in horror, and froze opening my door.

I heard a loud noise, it was growing louder. I turned to my right and saw yet another fighter plane heading towards me. I hopped my car and turned it on. The jet was drawing closer every breath I took. Finally, after about five seconds of struggle, I slammed my foot on the accelerator and headed down 1-5.

The highway was nearly abandoned, except with a few cars trying to flee from the war zone. I could see totaled cars along the road. I swerved trying to avoid oncoming traffic. I didn’t even pay attention which I was going. I looked up and saw a sign indicating I was heading south. So, I decided to head to Tacoma, unless it was destroyed.

I looked behind me and saw a Seattle in flames. I turned around and saw the National Guard heading towards the scene.

After around five miles of driving, my car ran out of gas. I got out and dropped to my knees.

It finally sunk in, my wife was dead, my sister was gone, I had no job, even my unborn nephew was gone. I burst into tears, "Why God? Why?" Still, I heard explosions in the distance, each one reminding me of my dear Michelle.

I was royally screwed.

  • beanmachine43


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Posted 26 May 2005 - 01:09 AM

Mods, please lock this. I'm working on another story right now. I won't be able to work on this one.

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