Unnamed Project

[JoshGTAfreak]

Ok, I'm writing this story on a guy in the distant future who becomes a vigilante. It sounds like Batman, but the story takes a different turn. He ends up causing a revolution, and he's in the middle of it. So the story follows his path of becoming a hero and dealing with it.

 

Can you guys tell me you're opinion of this scene? It's set just after the character fully takes on the mantle. He's known as the vigilante for the moment.

 

 

The quite night was now interrupted as a small convoy pulled up to a factory, bathed in the neon-blue light of the distant skyline. The rain was pouring hard tonight, meaning no-one really wanted to be there. A black Z Class sedan pulled up. Ritchie Francis put down his champagne as he realised they were at destination. "They don't make them like this any more." He said as he put on his dark green trench coat. Ritchie despised the new aged clothes people wore today. In his early 50s, Ritchie was a man who's face did the talking. He had a lot of scars on his face, making him look older then he actually was. As he got out of his upper class sedan, he looked around, taking in the scene. He didn't notice the dark figure standing on a rooftop about two hundred and metres away.

 

"Alright boys, let's load these up quickly, try to get this over with." About fifteen men got out of the back of three trucks. The drivers stayed put. Ten of the men went inside the factory, while the others spread out to form a decent perimeter. They had their old school assault rifles by their side, or insurance. "I don't know we even bother with the guns these days, no-one is going to stop us." A young man who appeared to be Ritchie's assistant mused.

"We fought long and hard to have it that way kid, it's not worth losing." Ritchie replied rather seriously.

 

It was time to strike, Carter thought. Clad in his new Duroplex armor, he jumped off the rooftop, allowing his gliders to come out and take him to his target. He landed on the truck closest to the large iron gate, his gliders retracting almost instantly. From there, he jumped on a guard about two metres away, knocking him out cold with a punch. Carter drew out his Sabre, puncturing the closest truck's gas tank with it. He withdrew the sabre, in such a way that managed to spill gas over a two-to-three metre radius. With that, he launched himself towards two guards firing at him, hitting them in the stomachs with his sabre.

 

Ritchie and his assistant ran back for the car. They were about twenty metres away when the action had started. Carter noticed them as he took another two guards out. He fired the grappling hook from his wrist, landing it in the boot of the car. As he started to get pulled from the now moving car, he hit the ground hard with his sabre, causing the sparks to light the fuel he laid down earlier.

 

*To be Continued*

[ryuclan]

 

The quite night was now interrupted as a small convoy pulled up to a factory, bathed in the neon-blue light of the distant skyline. The rain was pouring hard tonight, meaning no-one really wanted to be there.

Should be a little more descriptive and expand on this. You should be able to see the splashing of the water, and hear the windshield wiper dragging lazily across the glass.

 

 

A black Z Class sedan pulled up. Ritchie Francis put down his champagne as he realised they were at destination.

Here I would make sure to point out that Ritchie is inside the sedan and would just put sedan as opposed to Z class sedan. Maybe describe how as the sedan came to a stop he almost spilled his champagne.

 

 

"They don't make them like this any more." He said as he put on his dark green trench coat. Ritchie despised the new aged clothes people wore today. In his early 50s, Ritchie was a man who's face did the talking.

Your face is always the one doing the talking, unless otherwise noted. Also I would just say 'the fashion of today' or something similar as opposed to "new aged clothes.

 

 

He had a lot of scars on his face, making him look older then he actually was.

Again try to expand on this.

 

 

As he got out of his upper class sedan, he looked around, taking in the scene. He didn't notice the dark figure standing on a rooftop about two hundred and metres away.

Don't need to say that he didn't notice it, only that it was there.

 

 

"Alright boys, let's load these up quickly, try to get this over with." About fifteen men got out of the back of three trucks.

With the rain pouring he'd have to yell out these orders, especially if everyone is still in there vehicles. Also have to let the reader know who said this.

 

 

The drivers stayed put. Ten of the men went inside the factory, while the others spread out to form a decent perimeter. They had their old school assault rifles by their side, or insurance.

What made them old school? Insurance against what? Thieves? Crakheads who sometimes tried to steal their merch?

 

 

"I don't know we even bother with the guns these days, no-one is going to stop us." A young man who appeared to be Ritchie's assistant mused.

"We fought long and hard to have it that way kid, it's not worth losing." Ritchie replied rather seriously.

Here you could describe how naive the assistant is or how comfortable he has gotten.

 

 

It was time to strike, Carter thought.

Can't just throw him in there. Maybe allow him to continue to be 'the dark figure' until someone recognizes him, then reveal his name.

 

 

 

Clad in his new Duroplex armor, he jumped off the rooftop, allowing his gliders to come out and take him to his target. He landed on the truck closest to the large iron gate, his gliders retracting almost instantly.

More descriptive.

 

 

From there, he jumped on a guard about two metres away, knocking him out cold with a punch. Carter drew out his Sabre, puncturing the closest truck's gas tank with it. He withdrew the sabre, in such a way that managed to spill gas over a two-to-three metre radius.

Needs work.

 

 

With that, he launched himself towards two guards firing at him, hitting them in the stomachs with his sabre.

I'm sure everyone would start firing, and the men who were going inside would emerge hearing the ruckus outside.

 

 

Ritchie and his assistant ran back for the car. They were about twenty metres away when the action had started.

Away from what?

 

 

Carter noticed them as he took another two guards out. He fired the grappling hook from his wrist, landing it in the boot of the car. As he started to get pulled from the now moving car, he hit the ground hard with his sabre, causing the sparks to light the fuel he laid down earlier.

Carter pursued them, and as they tried to flee in the car he fired his grappling hook through the rear window, hooking it around the assistant's neck.

 

 

 

Please note that everything I have noted here is personal opinion.