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Hit Me! [Unprofessional WIP story]


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Okay, I like to write stories, but the thing is.. I'm not good at plots. I'm going to post a new chapter (the chapters are short) whenever they get finished, and feel free to give any and all criticism. I'm not a good writer, but I like to write. That's that that really matters, and I hope I can interest at least one other person.


The story does jump around from character to character very frequently, and it's not organized very well except for being in chronological order (chapters are highly assumed to take place after the previous one and before the following)


Know that this is probably always going to be an unfinished story, as I just like to write, and I don't like endings. It will eventually be drawn out, but I will edit or add or whatever if people think something should happen.


Think of it like a WIP quest mod, where the author asks the Nexus where they want the story to go.


But, that doesn't mean it will follow everything that other people suggest.


This post will be a 'table of contents, of sorts, and will be edited with a link to each chapter. I will try to put in the already written chapters twice a week, and the ones that need to be written once a week or every two weeks. I don't really expect this to get a lot of attention because of the lack of posts, but if anybody has questions about the story, characters, setting, anything, then I'll try my best to answer.


Oh yeah, and I'm an amateur. Very very much.


The theme is started out as a sort of espionage-y story but I put it off after the first chapter and a little of the second for a few months, and when I came back to it decided to make it futuristic. Normal at first, but getting more sci-fi and cyberpunk-ish as the story goes on.















Edited by SgtHighwaters
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The cold polymer of the slide on Clover’s suppressed P22 pistol brushed against her right leg as she sheathed it into the thigh holster. Her black dress fit snugly on her slender form, yet was loose enough to hide the weapon in an easy-to-reach place. The contract was meant to be at a formal convention, and she chose to only bring the pistol because a knife would require being close to the target and his security, increasing her chances of being caught. She can’t screw this up, or her employer would have a bounty on her head, too. She checked herself out in the mirror to make sure nothing was revealing – including the weapon – and gazed at her reflection.

“Where on earth has your life run off to, Clove? You should be in a university, studying. Not killing off politicians.” She said to herself. At 23, she was a young woman, and there was still a faint hint of stress marks on the sides of her eyes. It’s taken a slight toll on her physical appearance, but thankfully the job doesn’t need attractive patrons to pull anything off.

Clover walked over to the bedside window, and noticed that Ronto, her hit, was arriving. He was a bald man, standing at nearly seven feet, had a somewhat wide build, and a very coarse beard hung from his face. Not quite what she was expecting, that’s for sure. “Hmph. Must be liberal.” She checked the time on her watch and set the alarm to go off in five hours, and headed to the hallway of the hotel. Stopping in the doorway, she couldn’t help but feel like she forgot something.


“Ay, Rontay!” greeted the man in the white suit, with his New York accent. “It’s been what, five years? How are ya?” Ronto grinned and pat the man on his back, nearly toppling him over.

”I’ve been great, Jackson. Been living the life since we passed the tax bill.” the husky giant said, cheerily.

“All that money ‘n da Wooly Mammoth still hasn’t trimmed his fur.” Jackson smirked, brushing his hand through his strikingly silver hair. The man had facial features that would somewhat resemble a malnourished coyote, but was healthy despite his appearance. He observed his surroundings as if he was expecting something to happen, and a blur moved in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He shrugged it off and walked with Ronto and the security into the hotel.

“Nice place, for a four star.” Ronto said as he checked out the building. He was enthralled. The interior of the lobby was decorated in shades of gold, red, and bronze, and the design of the building was made to resemble ancient Roman architecture. Marble columns lined the path from the doors to the front desk, standing at least fifty feet. The monoliths didn’t quite make it to the massive height of the ceiling, leaving about another twenty feet for the chandeliers to hang without worry of knocking into the stone towers. He moved his vision toward the polished floor, clearly seeing his reflection. Oh boy, I really do need a shave. He thought as he rubbed his beard.

“Ay, big guy, ya still with us?” Jackson snapped his fingers, forcing Ronto out of his slight trance, and handed over the room key. “Getchya some rest, we gotta coupla hours ‘till da speech. I’ll woik out da preparations, and knock whennis time ta head on downstairs” Ronto nodded his head, signaled two of his security to follow, and went on his way.


Clover opened the doors to the auditorium where Ronto’s speech was being held, noticing the large amount of people in the audience. She squeezed to the far left, nearing the doors to the maintenance area above the stage. Glancing over to the opposite side, she saw Ronto and a few other men walking toward the stage’s entrance. One of the group looked in her direction, and she nearly panicked. Try and keep your cool, Clove. Don’t screw this up.

“Hey, miss,” a stranger called out to her. He put his arm around her waist and burped. Clover almost gagged at the stench of alcohol and vomit erupting from his mouth. “How ‘bout you follow me to my ro-” She cut off his drunken flirting with a kick to the groin.

“Sorry, I’m not available.” Clover responded with a smirk. She calmly opened the doors and entered. Looking up, she saw a ladder leading to the stage’s fly loft, and climbed it. Expecting to be noticed, she placed a small explosive charge on the power box to hopefully take out the lights, giving her the chance needed to make her move. And now it’s time to play the waiting game.

Edited by SgtHighwaters
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  • 3 weeks later...

Nice, I like it! Look forward to reading the next parts!


May I offer a suggestion? I'm generally not too fond of spelling-out accents. You already pointed out he has a New York accent so I don't think it's necessary to emphasise that point with spellings. But perhaps that's just me :D


Great work!

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  • 2 weeks later...



The auditorium was already packed with people, much earlier than Jackson had expected. It was still half an hour until Ronto would be up on the stage, so they decided to get a bite to eat. On the way to the dining area, Jackson saw that blur again. What da hell keeps doin’ that? He thought as he unbuckled the holster on his waist. He isn’t normally armed, but whenever there’s a big event like this, he’s allowed to carry just in case something goes wrong.

“Ay, miss. Can we get some room service sent to a room?” Jackson asked as he walked up to the open kitchen door. The young woman turned her head to see where the voice came from.

“Oh, sure, but we’re getting ready to cater for the speech’s reception. If you want I can just make you a basket to take.” Jackson smiled. The girl was beautiful; her electric blue eyes standing out from the dull chef’s clothing, and her golden hair matched the décor of the hotel. He saw her blush, and she quickly turned around to gather the food. Jackson stepped out of the kitchen and looked around the empty dining hall. He looked at the security guard and asked his name.

“It’s Dave.” The man said. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, and didn’t look like he enjoyed his job.

“Have ya noticed anythin’ strange since we came here?” Jackson asked him. Hopefully he isn’t crazy. That blur was making him paranoid.

“Besides the lack of people in this hotel?” He said. “No, not really. Have you seen something of the ordinary?” Jackson just turned away and started watching the ceiling.

“Nah, just wondrin’” He thought about what Dave just said, and realized he was right. For a high-rated hotel, it was pretty empty. The thought of it made him nervous. Once again, he sees the shadow in the corner of his eye, and something grabbed his shoulder. He spun around and drew his pistol, but realized it was just the girl from the kitchen, with the basket of food.

“It’s going to be hard to shoot me with the safety on,” The woman said, smiling. “Sorry for startling you. Here’s your food, sir!” Jackson put the pistol back in its holster and took the basket.

“Sorry about that, miss. I get priddy jumpy whennis quiet.” Dave motioned him to get moving. “The name’s Jackson.” He said to the girl, smiling back at her.

“Elise” she replied softly, and blushed once again. “I-I better get back to preparing. Don’t you have someone to bring this to?” Jackson glanced at the basket, and then at Dave.

“Yeah, I’d betta get on the move. Don’t wanna starve anyone.” She giggled at his comment, and it seemed like the blue in her eyes flickered for a moment. Jackson just shrugged it off and started walking back to the room. “I’ll stop by afta the speech and take ya out ta dinna, how ‘bout it?” He yelled behind him.

“I’d like that!” Elise hollered back. She waited for the two men to get out of sight, and walked back in the kitchen. She was about to close the door, and she saw a blur rushing into the room. “Not yet, my friend.”


It was almost time. Clover’s back started to ache, as the position she was in wasn’t very comfortable. The fly-loft catwalk was very narrow even for her, and she wondered how many people have actually used it. She looked in the audience, and saw that Ronto was heading to the stage. He was shaking hands, kissing cheeks, the usual politician act. The man in the white suit wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and there were only two guards with him. Seems too easy, Clover thought as she reached for her detonator. She reached into her handbag and pulled out what looked like an in-ear receiver, and put it on. A gentle tap on the left lobe produced a blue glass-like screen across her face. The heads-up-display projected the heat signatures, distance and known names of all the people below. In her free hand, she unholstered her P22, and flipped the safety off. Three… Two… One… Boom.

The entire auditorium went dark, and sounds of panic erupted from the audience. Clover zoomed in on Ronto with her visor, and readied her pistol. Just as she was about to pull the trigger, a fuzzy object flew past her hand and knocked the gun to the ground. She tracked the strange thing with her visor as it bounced off of the walls, just before it crashed into one of the pulleys suspending the catwalk.

“Damnit,” she muttered under her breath, looking up at the creature. It’s still there! She crawled to her pistol lying on the ground, took her shot at Ronto, removed her heels and ran toward the rear exit. Whatever that thing is, I don’t want to know.

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