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Hopefully you all enjoyed the prologue, heh, despite its boring setups.
Anyway, this is where the story really gets going. R/R please, and remember
if you have any stories on this site, review me and I review you. I'm nice,
aren't I? Anyway...
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The Marine
-Chapter One: Entering the Tournament-
Jack Mortis is a Marine that's seen all kinds of action. He joined up with the Marines at age 19 after his parents pulled him out of college for failing classes. Despite not doing well in school, Jack was an extremely smart individual, and found his way in and out of things. His first passion was fighting, his second going on a drinking binge. He was an excellent officer and leader for his men. He'd led them through thick and thin, mostly thick. His squad got into the most trouble of any, but he somehow got them out. Jack retired from the Marines for a short while following the recent war with the aliens on Deimos, one of Mars' moons.
Jack was built well, and stood about six foot two inches tall. He weighed a lot at 240, as he was quite muscular. He had long, straggly black hair which was rather unkempt at most times. His eyes were a deep black, he held an eerie, almost evil presence. He was kind at heart though, many people never gave him a chance, however.
Jack had always been searching for the ultimate thrill. He had thought long and hard through the cold nights about what it would be, whether flying through space fighting hoards of aliens, or here on Earth flying jets into battle, or battling man to man in an arena...
Finally, after weeks of thought, it finally hit him. Jack had been an avid fan of the Unreal Tournament, he'd watched Xan Kriegor rule the Tournament and he'd watched last year when Dante manhandled Malcolm. The light bulb came on in Jack's brain. He would try and enter the Unreal Tournament. He was a righteous man, and would never do anything to get himself convicted and entered in. He downed the last dregs of his beer and pulled on his black leather jacket. He stole a glance to his dispersion pistol in the corner, and grabbed it quickly. He holstered the weapon and walked out his apartment door.
While roaring down the streets on his chopper, Jack starting having dreams of glory and victory in the Tournament. He saw himself running down the corridor, looking quickly behind and around him, Flak Cannon in hand. He ran down the corridor and turned the corner to see his enemy waiting for him. Jack pulled the trigger of his weapon and saw the five shards of flak launch from the cannon and bury themselves in his opponent's face. The man opposite him screamed and turned into code and respawned, but Jack had won already. His daydream flashed to him waving at a crowd, the crowd screaming repeatedly, "Jack! Jack! Jack!" Suddenly, he was thrown back to reality as a car sped out in front of him. Jack swerved off path and started to lose control. He was thrown from the bike as it fell over and skidded across the asphalt with a sickening screech. Jack landed hard on his shoulder but turned, then flipped into a roll and leaped up to his feet. He looked around at the scene. His chopper was totaled, in a heap off on the other side of the road. The car that sped in front of him had eventually caused a four car crash. The police were on the scene already, apparently a policeman was in the area when it happened. After being questioned, Jack called for a taxi, uptown to the Liandri Corporation Headquarters, where the Unreal Tournament drafting was held.
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Jack walked inside the crystal doors and observed the setting in front of him. A rather plain room, just two elevators, a carpet with the Liandri logo printed on it, and a receptionist desk. There were six brown doors leading elsewhere, but Jack paid them no attention and walked up coolly to the desk.
'Wow, that receptionist is a hottie,' thought Jack. He disregarded this thought however, and spoke to her calmly and surely. "Excuse me, miss, but could you direct me to where I can sign up for the Unreal Tournament 2004 qualifications?" Jack asked as politely as he could.
The receptionist stared at him with blank eyes. She shook her head as if shaking herself back to reality. She felt she must of heard wrong. But then she came back down to earth and realized he was joking. The woman burst out laughing, while it became Jack's turn to stare rudely. He was legitimately confused. "No, really, where can I sign up for the Unreal Tournament qualifications?" he asked, persisting on the matter. The receptionist stopped laughing and looked at him with a look that read 'He's insane.'
She finally spoke, "You, you can't be serious, can you?" She was pleading his sanity at this point, but in futility.
"I'm quite serious, ma'am. Now would you please direct me to the signups location?" Jack was tired of being polite, this woman was pissing him off.
The woman was still incredulous, but pointed a shaky finger toward the first blank brown door to Jack's left. Jack nodded his gratitude and walked with more intent in his step than he had previously. He opened the door forcefully and walked inside. He found a prison full of mongrels. The cells were lined up along a long hallway on either side. One cell after another lined the hallway, each one containing nothing but a bed, a makeshift toilet, and a very annoyed looking prisoner. Jack took a sideways glance to several of them. Many were gigantic; they looked like they could snap him in half. 'Probably couldn't hit the side of a barn with a gun though,' thought Jack. He kept continuing down the hallway until he found another door, this time a locked silver one. A guard stood by it, and was staring at Jack. 'Jeez, I get a lot of stares in this place,' he thought.
"What in the good God's name are you doing here?" The guard sneered at him and chewed on a donut, small bits of icing fell from his disgusting mouth as he leered at the marine.
Jack shook his head in dismay, then took a deep breath and asked the guard how to sign up for the Tournament. The guard, just as the others did, laughed and drew his gun. He pointed it at Jack. "You know, you have no authorization to be here, insane clown. I think you need to feel some pain, buddy. Maybe shake you back to reality some."
Jack only stared at the Link Gun pointed at him. He started sweating; anticipating the first shot the guard would fire. He blocked everything out of his mind; nothing was around except for him and the officer. Jack had his own hand clenched in a death grip on his dispersion pistol; he was slowly charging it as he awaited the man's move. He concentrated only on his enemy, his face and his hand locked on his gun. "Well, you're serious, huh?" said the man. He chuckled lightly and more deliberately pointed the Link Gun at Jack's face. Jack noticed his finger slip from the primary to the alternate fire. Idiot. This would make him that much easier to kill. The dispersion pistol was finished charging, Jack could of killed him by now, but he had to prove himself somehow.
The man screwed up his face and fired the Link Gun's secondary attack, a small beam of green light that melted anything it touched. If one were to get in the way of this, it would melt the skin off their bones. Jack ducked in the split second he had before he was vaporized, and rolled back behind the guard, at the same time whipping out his pistol. He let loose on the charge he had stored and a large blue bolt fired from his small pistol. It hit the guard dead in the back; he flew several feet before landed on his face, then fell with his stomach on the ground. Smoke billowed from a major burn in his back. The man twitched and moaned in pain, before getting to his feet very slowly; a hand massaging the burn in his back.
He was enraged, and pulled out a communicator. "Yeah, this is Monroe. We got ourselves a rogue mental patient. He shot me in the back. Dispersion pistol. Yeah. Backup requested." He put away the communicator and wiped drool from his mouth before pointing a fat finger at Jack in rage. "You, you just wait, crazy fool. They'll get you."
Jack sighed deeply, shook his straggly hair and impatiently asked, "Lookit, just tell me where I can find the damn Tournament entries!" Four heavily armed security men banged open the door Jack had come through, and ran towards them.
"Hehe, you're dead now, crazy man." The fat guard ran back the other direction, as the four more dangerous ones pulled out Shock Rifles. Jack put up his hands and let the pistol fall to the floor. The four men, all well fit and looking pissed, pointed their rifles at Jack.
"Whoa there, no need to pull out the heavy weaponry, we can settle this calmly," Jack said in desperation. One of the men's eyes went wide, and noticed the pistol on the floor.
"Wait...you in the Marines?" he asked doubtingly. Jack nodded his head slowly, hoping that wasn't the wrong thing to say. By now, all of the prisoners were focused on Jack, several were cheering at his gall to shoot a guard. The man spoke again. "I'm Tom, remember? From your squad? You are Jack Mortis are you not?" Jack smiled with recognition. Tom Nelson was his best man, and probably had the best shot of any of them besides Jack. "Why are you here, Jack? Why'd you shoot a cop?" Tom was worried, and it showed in his face. "I don't wanna arrest you, Jack."
Jack was merely relieved to have someone who would listen, finally. "Listen, I only want to enter the Unreal Tournament, nothing else. That guy, Monroe, he wouldn't let me pass, called me crazy. Maybe I am, but who knows. He pointed a gun at me and tried to shoot, I just defended myself. Now come on, Tom, please tell me where I can find the signups."
Tom looked at him long and hard, and said, "Lower your weapons. He's okay." Monroe yelled in rage about his back in the distance. Tom gave further orders. "Monroe, shut the hell up. Jack, I dunno why in your right mind you would want to do this, but if you really want to, I'll take you to the entry bot."
Jack smiled his gratitude and followed Tom out of the room. The criminals cheered, they couldn't wait to fight alongside and against this man. Jack entered a room that looked very plain, just like all the Liandri rooms that anyone ever saw. Totally white, various pillars in the room for balance. A small desk with a bot in the center of the room was the highlight of the room; doors leading off to various places also lined the room. Jack noticed a television camera above the desk, signups were usually aired on sports channels, he remembered. Tom led him up to the desk, typed a few keynotes into the bot's system, then nodded at Jack. "It's all ready, Jack. The bot will tell you what to do from here. Remember that once you enter the Tournament palace, you can't leave. Unless of course, you win." With a chuckle and a hug goodbye, Tom left his old captain in the hands of the bot.
"Hello, sir. I am the Unreal Tournament 2004 Qualification entry robot. I will set you up with everything you need to enter the Tournament. Beware, once you enter the room to my left," the robot pointed a wiry arm at a set of double doors off to the side; "you may not leave. The only condition on leaving is if you emerge Tournament champion. If you leave that door without the Tournament crown on your head, you will be terminated by Tournament officials. Do you accept these terms of agreement?"
Jack realized that the bot must have been reprogrammed to give him a choice in the matter. 'So that's what Tom was doing, hehe. Tryin' to get me outta this, sneaky bastard.' He hit the Y in the bots keyboard, signifying he understood and accepted. The bot nodded and brought up a hologram image. Select your color of battle armor, red or blue. Be careful which you pick, as you cannot join teams on the other color, nor can you interact with them." Jack pressed the hologram key signifying blue. He had always loved the color blue. He had no clue why, but he just liked it. All the good things were blue; the ocean, the sky, his dispersion pistol....
Jack chuckled to himself as the bot brought up a new prompter. "Please select a codename. You may use your own, or you may type in a different name." Jack thought about it, he didn't want to use his own name. The Marines might not like one of their old Captains fighting in the Tournament. He'd have to keep that fact to himself for now. He thought some more, and thought up names that had something to do with his last name...'Mort, Mortibody, Mortisorption, Mortiorchis...Hey, I kinda like Mortiorchis. Yeah, that's it, Mortiorchis.' Jack smirked and typed in his new codename into the prompter. The robot nodded and pushed a button on it's console.
Blue body armor with an empty slot in the middle came out of a drawer in front of the desk. "Here is your armor. This is what will keep you alive in this Tournament. This piece of armor is the only thing that will save you if you are hit with bullets. You will still feel the effects of what would happen if you didn't have the armor, and your energy will portray this as well. When your energy runs dry, you respawn. If you take off your armor, these effects will be real. Do not, unless you wish to commit suicide, take off this armor, unless you are in the safety and privacy of your room. Is this clear?" Jack lightly pressed the Y button, now feeling slightly unsure and a little queasy. Maybe this wasn't what he imagined...
He held the armor in his hands, and wondered to himself what the blank slot was for. He assumed he'd find out soon. Jack slipped the tank top-looking armor over himself. He immediately felt better, once the protection of the armor washed over him. He loved the feeling of wearing armor once again. He was in his element again.
Jack frowned for a moment, and typed into the question prompter. "But, what if I am shot in the face? My brain is another vital point, right?" He looked somewhat worried.
The robot monotonously replied, "A helmet will be provided in your room. Further armor accessories will be provided, if you are good enough to pass the qualifications and make it onto a team. Any further questions?"
Jack thought for a moment, then pressed the N button on the prompter. The bot nodded, and simply said. "Good luck. You'll need it." A path to the door he was supposed to go through lit up in red along the ground. Jack took a deep breath, and with a last look out the window at New York City, walked through the double doors.
--------- So, how was that? R/R, please. ---------
The Marine
-Chapter One: Entering the Tournament-
Jack Mortis is a Marine that's seen all kinds of action. He joined up with the Marines at age 19 after his parents pulled him out of college for failing classes. Despite not doing well in school, Jack was an extremely smart individual, and found his way in and out of things. His first passion was fighting, his second going on a drinking binge. He was an excellent officer and leader for his men. He'd led them through thick and thin, mostly thick. His squad got into the most trouble of any, but he somehow got them out. Jack retired from the Marines for a short while following the recent war with the aliens on Deimos, one of Mars' moons.
Jack was built well, and stood about six foot two inches tall. He weighed a lot at 240, as he was quite muscular. He had long, straggly black hair which was rather unkempt at most times. His eyes were a deep black, he held an eerie, almost evil presence. He was kind at heart though, many people never gave him a chance, however.
Jack had always been searching for the ultimate thrill. He had thought long and hard through the cold nights about what it would be, whether flying through space fighting hoards of aliens, or here on Earth flying jets into battle, or battling man to man in an arena...
Finally, after weeks of thought, it finally hit him. Jack had been an avid fan of the Unreal Tournament, he'd watched Xan Kriegor rule the Tournament and he'd watched last year when Dante manhandled Malcolm. The light bulb came on in Jack's brain. He would try and enter the Unreal Tournament. He was a righteous man, and would never do anything to get himself convicted and entered in. He downed the last dregs of his beer and pulled on his black leather jacket. He stole a glance to his dispersion pistol in the corner, and grabbed it quickly. He holstered the weapon and walked out his apartment door.
While roaring down the streets on his chopper, Jack starting having dreams of glory and victory in the Tournament. He saw himself running down the corridor, looking quickly behind and around him, Flak Cannon in hand. He ran down the corridor and turned the corner to see his enemy waiting for him. Jack pulled the trigger of his weapon and saw the five shards of flak launch from the cannon and bury themselves in his opponent's face. The man opposite him screamed and turned into code and respawned, but Jack had won already. His daydream flashed to him waving at a crowd, the crowd screaming repeatedly, "Jack! Jack! Jack!" Suddenly, he was thrown back to reality as a car sped out in front of him. Jack swerved off path and started to lose control. He was thrown from the bike as it fell over and skidded across the asphalt with a sickening screech. Jack landed hard on his shoulder but turned, then flipped into a roll and leaped up to his feet. He looked around at the scene. His chopper was totaled, in a heap off on the other side of the road. The car that sped in front of him had eventually caused a four car crash. The police were on the scene already, apparently a policeman was in the area when it happened. After being questioned, Jack called for a taxi, uptown to the Liandri Corporation Headquarters, where the Unreal Tournament drafting was held.
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Jack walked inside the crystal doors and observed the setting in front of him. A rather plain room, just two elevators, a carpet with the Liandri logo printed on it, and a receptionist desk. There were six brown doors leading elsewhere, but Jack paid them no attention and walked up coolly to the desk.
'Wow, that receptionist is a hottie,' thought Jack. He disregarded this thought however, and spoke to her calmly and surely. "Excuse me, miss, but could you direct me to where I can sign up for the Unreal Tournament 2004 qualifications?" Jack asked as politely as he could.
The receptionist stared at him with blank eyes. She shook her head as if shaking herself back to reality. She felt she must of heard wrong. But then she came back down to earth and realized he was joking. The woman burst out laughing, while it became Jack's turn to stare rudely. He was legitimately confused. "No, really, where can I sign up for the Unreal Tournament qualifications?" he asked, persisting on the matter. The receptionist stopped laughing and looked at him with a look that read 'He's insane.'
She finally spoke, "You, you can't be serious, can you?" She was pleading his sanity at this point, but in futility.
"I'm quite serious, ma'am. Now would you please direct me to the signups location?" Jack was tired of being polite, this woman was pissing him off.
The woman was still incredulous, but pointed a shaky finger toward the first blank brown door to Jack's left. Jack nodded his gratitude and walked with more intent in his step than he had previously. He opened the door forcefully and walked inside. He found a prison full of mongrels. The cells were lined up along a long hallway on either side. One cell after another lined the hallway, each one containing nothing but a bed, a makeshift toilet, and a very annoyed looking prisoner. Jack took a sideways glance to several of them. Many were gigantic; they looked like they could snap him in half. 'Probably couldn't hit the side of a barn with a gun though,' thought Jack. He kept continuing down the hallway until he found another door, this time a locked silver one. A guard stood by it, and was staring at Jack. 'Jeez, I get a lot of stares in this place,' he thought.
"What in the good God's name are you doing here?" The guard sneered at him and chewed on a donut, small bits of icing fell from his disgusting mouth as he leered at the marine.
Jack shook his head in dismay, then took a deep breath and asked the guard how to sign up for the Tournament. The guard, just as the others did, laughed and drew his gun. He pointed it at Jack. "You know, you have no authorization to be here, insane clown. I think you need to feel some pain, buddy. Maybe shake you back to reality some."
Jack only stared at the Link Gun pointed at him. He started sweating; anticipating the first shot the guard would fire. He blocked everything out of his mind; nothing was around except for him and the officer. Jack had his own hand clenched in a death grip on his dispersion pistol; he was slowly charging it as he awaited the man's move. He concentrated only on his enemy, his face and his hand locked on his gun. "Well, you're serious, huh?" said the man. He chuckled lightly and more deliberately pointed the Link Gun at Jack's face. Jack noticed his finger slip from the primary to the alternate fire. Idiot. This would make him that much easier to kill. The dispersion pistol was finished charging, Jack could of killed him by now, but he had to prove himself somehow.
The man screwed up his face and fired the Link Gun's secondary attack, a small beam of green light that melted anything it touched. If one were to get in the way of this, it would melt the skin off their bones. Jack ducked in the split second he had before he was vaporized, and rolled back behind the guard, at the same time whipping out his pistol. He let loose on the charge he had stored and a large blue bolt fired from his small pistol. It hit the guard dead in the back; he flew several feet before landed on his face, then fell with his stomach on the ground. Smoke billowed from a major burn in his back. The man twitched and moaned in pain, before getting to his feet very slowly; a hand massaging the burn in his back.
He was enraged, and pulled out a communicator. "Yeah, this is Monroe. We got ourselves a rogue mental patient. He shot me in the back. Dispersion pistol. Yeah. Backup requested." He put away the communicator and wiped drool from his mouth before pointing a fat finger at Jack in rage. "You, you just wait, crazy fool. They'll get you."
Jack sighed deeply, shook his straggly hair and impatiently asked, "Lookit, just tell me where I can find the damn Tournament entries!" Four heavily armed security men banged open the door Jack had come through, and ran towards them.
"Hehe, you're dead now, crazy man." The fat guard ran back the other direction, as the four more dangerous ones pulled out Shock Rifles. Jack put up his hands and let the pistol fall to the floor. The four men, all well fit and looking pissed, pointed their rifles at Jack.
"Whoa there, no need to pull out the heavy weaponry, we can settle this calmly," Jack said in desperation. One of the men's eyes went wide, and noticed the pistol on the floor.
"Wait...you in the Marines?" he asked doubtingly. Jack nodded his head slowly, hoping that wasn't the wrong thing to say. By now, all of the prisoners were focused on Jack, several were cheering at his gall to shoot a guard. The man spoke again. "I'm Tom, remember? From your squad? You are Jack Mortis are you not?" Jack smiled with recognition. Tom Nelson was his best man, and probably had the best shot of any of them besides Jack. "Why are you here, Jack? Why'd you shoot a cop?" Tom was worried, and it showed in his face. "I don't wanna arrest you, Jack."
Jack was merely relieved to have someone who would listen, finally. "Listen, I only want to enter the Unreal Tournament, nothing else. That guy, Monroe, he wouldn't let me pass, called me crazy. Maybe I am, but who knows. He pointed a gun at me and tried to shoot, I just defended myself. Now come on, Tom, please tell me where I can find the signups."
Tom looked at him long and hard, and said, "Lower your weapons. He's okay." Monroe yelled in rage about his back in the distance. Tom gave further orders. "Monroe, shut the hell up. Jack, I dunno why in your right mind you would want to do this, but if you really want to, I'll take you to the entry bot."
Jack smiled his gratitude and followed Tom out of the room. The criminals cheered, they couldn't wait to fight alongside and against this man. Jack entered a room that looked very plain, just like all the Liandri rooms that anyone ever saw. Totally white, various pillars in the room for balance. A small desk with a bot in the center of the room was the highlight of the room; doors leading off to various places also lined the room. Jack noticed a television camera above the desk, signups were usually aired on sports channels, he remembered. Tom led him up to the desk, typed a few keynotes into the bot's system, then nodded at Jack. "It's all ready, Jack. The bot will tell you what to do from here. Remember that once you enter the Tournament palace, you can't leave. Unless of course, you win." With a chuckle and a hug goodbye, Tom left his old captain in the hands of the bot.
"Hello, sir. I am the Unreal Tournament 2004 Qualification entry robot. I will set you up with everything you need to enter the Tournament. Beware, once you enter the room to my left," the robot pointed a wiry arm at a set of double doors off to the side; "you may not leave. The only condition on leaving is if you emerge Tournament champion. If you leave that door without the Tournament crown on your head, you will be terminated by Tournament officials. Do you accept these terms of agreement?"
Jack realized that the bot must have been reprogrammed to give him a choice in the matter. 'So that's what Tom was doing, hehe. Tryin' to get me outta this, sneaky bastard.' He hit the Y in the bots keyboard, signifying he understood and accepted. The bot nodded and brought up a hologram image. Select your color of battle armor, red or blue. Be careful which you pick, as you cannot join teams on the other color, nor can you interact with them." Jack pressed the hologram key signifying blue. He had always loved the color blue. He had no clue why, but he just liked it. All the good things were blue; the ocean, the sky, his dispersion pistol....
Jack chuckled to himself as the bot brought up a new prompter. "Please select a codename. You may use your own, or you may type in a different name." Jack thought about it, he didn't want to use his own name. The Marines might not like one of their old Captains fighting in the Tournament. He'd have to keep that fact to himself for now. He thought some more, and thought up names that had something to do with his last name...'Mort, Mortibody, Mortisorption, Mortiorchis...Hey, I kinda like Mortiorchis. Yeah, that's it, Mortiorchis.' Jack smirked and typed in his new codename into the prompter. The robot nodded and pushed a button on it's console.
Blue body armor with an empty slot in the middle came out of a drawer in front of the desk. "Here is your armor. This is what will keep you alive in this Tournament. This piece of armor is the only thing that will save you if you are hit with bullets. You will still feel the effects of what would happen if you didn't have the armor, and your energy will portray this as well. When your energy runs dry, you respawn. If you take off your armor, these effects will be real. Do not, unless you wish to commit suicide, take off this armor, unless you are in the safety and privacy of your room. Is this clear?" Jack lightly pressed the Y button, now feeling slightly unsure and a little queasy. Maybe this wasn't what he imagined...
He held the armor in his hands, and wondered to himself what the blank slot was for. He assumed he'd find out soon. Jack slipped the tank top-looking armor over himself. He immediately felt better, once the protection of the armor washed over him. He loved the feeling of wearing armor once again. He was in his element again.
Jack frowned for a moment, and typed into the question prompter. "But, what if I am shot in the face? My brain is another vital point, right?" He looked somewhat worried.
The robot monotonously replied, "A helmet will be provided in your room. Further armor accessories will be provided, if you are good enough to pass the qualifications and make it onto a team. Any further questions?"
Jack thought for a moment, then pressed the N button on the prompter. The bot nodded, and simply said. "Good luck. You'll need it." A path to the door he was supposed to go through lit up in red along the ground. Jack took a deep breath, and with a last look out the window at New York City, walked through the double doors.
--------- So, how was that? R/R, please. ---------