lol, May 32

Thanks for the heads up. Duh... may 32.... *smacks forehead two-thousand times and then is knocked unconcious.*
I'll change it as soon as I wake up... ughh

Anyway, what did you actually think of the story? After all that was what my whole rant was about.

It isn't bad. I'm having a hard time with the whole "high tech" fanfiction thing. But it has good writing. Chapter 2 was a bit short though. Keep it up!

I found about 6 includeing "forty rfive minutes".


I didn't really notice any in the last one.

It might be a good idea to start using firefox as it has a built in spell checker.
I'm not trying to annoying you so just keep up the great work.

*hides in bomb shelter hoping not to get killed by CUI-Krusty_The_Klown*

*Launches nukes on every square inch of the world*

Well, since the last fan fic was a little shorter, I got to proof read some chapters but there were ALOT of combined errors. Plus, if you pointed out errors but still sontributed to the thread then I'm cool. However, if you point them out just to try and kill the thread or whatever, that's who I was ranting about.

BTW you had a grammatical error when you said "I'm not trying to annoying you." Grammar Nazi Youth!!

----CHAPTER SIX----

Ken sat there, frozen in his seat. The plane was just gliding, tracers flashing by. Was my whole life a lie? Was I adopted? What happened? Ken rubbed his head, wondering whether to feel sad, mad, sorry or just plain shocked. An ear-shattering explosion abruptly ended Ken’s short thinking time. He leaped up and glanced at the radar screen. There were 2 enemy Prowlers closing in on him. Ken maneuvered the Cyclone in a banking left turn and then quickly did a loop, landing a quarter of a kilometer behind the Prowlers. The afterburners kicked in and propelled him at break-neck speed. The war-torn landscape was a blur.

The Prowlers approached quickly as Ken’s machine guns immediately opened up and chopped right through the first plane that was in a dazed state. The enemy aircraft combusted in a fiery storm of death before being hurled downward by gravity’s relentless pull. The machine gun kept chattering and tore into the second Prowler’s fuselage. It rolled and barely spun away from the deadly stream of hot gunfire.

Ken followed him on the dive and let the machine gun do the rest of the work, blasting through the Prowler’s wings and setting it ablaze.

Ken decided to head back to the airbase and recollect his thoughts. He executed a U-turn and glided back to the UEF airbase. After a few minutes later of flying, the base came into view. Artillery shells dotted the landscape, which was littered with the smoldering carcasses of dead tanks.

The Cyclone touched down and to his surprise, was greeted to a chorus of cheers and whoops. Ken nervously climbed out and plastered a fake smile on his face and pretended to gloat, bragging about how he blasted Korun out of the sky.

Ken desperately attempted to get to his room as fast as possible but was dragged into the General’s office. Ken plopped onto the chair and tried to look calm. Now, everything seemed fake. The General giddily shook his hand and then excitedly began to speak, “Congratulations, Ken Bellchime, You are now an ace and one heck of a one at that. You deserve a cold one and your wings.” He said, reaching down behind his desk and returning with a medal that had eagle wings and the words etched in, ”UEF Fighter Pilot Ace”
Ken nodded and quietly mumbled thanks as he pinned it on his flight suit, making sure it was aligned correctly.

Then, the General continued with the same upbeat mood. However, he was only half listening as he debated whether or not to spill the beans about the so-called Korun Findil. And anyway, who is Dan? Is he my real father? Did he actually mean Dean? It sounded like Dan. Was his father gay? He had a mother. Ken covered his hand over his mouth and pretended to cough, trying to not to childishly giggle. His sick, comedic moment came to a halt as another terrifying idea nestled itself in his head, not letting go. He could turn on the UEF. It was their fault. They sent him out here and forced almost all of his friends to die, killed his father, and annihilated thousands of lives. The Cybran were only trying to free the slaves made by the UEF. If he could somehow get into the Cybran Nation and be a fighter pilot, he could unlock the secrets surrounding Korun Findil.

Ken must have looked dazed because the General reached over and shook him on the shoulder, “Are you okay?”
Ken’s head shot up as he quickly replied, “I’m ok, sir.”
“Ok, now remember, the awards ceremony is tomorrow at 1000 hours. Be there.”
“Yes sir!” said Ken obediently and saluted the General and then marched out.

As soon as he stepped foot inside his barrack, Tim Alders enthusiastically picked him up and swung him around. Tim was a wrestler in high school. Ken’s feet touched the ground while Tim babbled, “Man, I thought you weren’t gonna get out of that mess up there! Wow, you survived, I can’t believe it…”
Ken grinned and sat on his bunk, giving the dramatic story on how he downed Korun unlike the quick version he told the mob of people who greeted him. “Korun dodged every bullet I shot at him. As soon as the pipper landed on him, he was gone. He looped around and riddled my plane with bullets. I couldn’t control one wing. So then, I pretended to dive but then pulled up and there he was. I fired the machine gun and sent him kissing the dirt,” bragged Ken.

-2343 HOURS-

Ken lay wide awake for the second night in a row. Repeating the same questions over and over. The window slid open and a figure slipped in. Ken whirled around and dove for him. The figure’s eyes grew wider as Ken’s shoulders smashed into the figure’s side. They both landed with a loud crash. He got up and then gripped the figure’s collar, yelling and whispering at the same time “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The figure cocked his legs back and plunged them into Ken’s stomach, knocking his lungs into his throat. Ken flew back and clutched his stomach, crumbled over on the floor.

The figure took a few steps and then crouched down, brandishing a silencer pistol and holding it to his head. Ken’s breathing grew faster and faster, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Come with me,” growled the figure as he picked Ken up with surprising ease. Ken’s feet scrambled and then stood. The figure climbed back out of the window and motioned Ken to follow. A six-legged vehicle awaited them. It had a purple glow lining the jet-black hull. Ken stepped in and felt sharp pain lance up his spine. Mustering up all of his energy, he turned around and saw another figure plunging a syringe in Ken’s back. He tried to scream but fell limply on the vehicle as his vision darkened.

----END OF CHAPTER SIX----

You know, this is really the kind of thing that shouldn't be done in forum software. This just isn't the right kind of place for long form prose. Try a blog, or heck, a simple website, and just link it from here or something?

*Laughs as CUI-Krusty_The_Klown is destroy by his own nukes*

Being a hypocrite can be fun!

You would also be assisimilated... lol

He might be hiding off planet, in which case he could be safe

Just pointing that out

----CHAPTER SEVEN----

Ken slowly awoke from his drug-induced sleep. What has he gotten himself into this time? The room was pitch black and stuffy. He tried to move his arm which was resting on the armrest but couldn’t. To his horror, metal straps held his arms there. Ken tried to kick his legs but they were fastened to the chair as well. Just when Ken was about to give up, a door in the front of the room, directly opposite from him, swung open. The room was flooded with blinding light. Eight figures armed with laser rifles stepped in followed by a man with an AI implant partially showing above his eyebrow.

Ken tightened his muscles and gripped the ends of the armrests. The man calmly said, “This is a Cybran prisoner facility. We hacked into the chip inside of your head and found out that you plan to rebel. However, you could never fully do it since the chip prevents you from doing so. We are here to free what the UEF enslaved you as. Please, if you would cooperate, you can make this easier on yourself.”

Ken tried to calm down but kept imagining them doing horrible stuff to him. He even imagined a scientist reaching in his head, pulling out his brain and then devouring it in a few bites. He was escorted to an operating room. Hulking machines lined the walls, carrying surgical equipment and showing pulsating heart rates. Ken was led to an empty bed and told to lie down. “The implanting process includes opening your skull and placing an AI chip inside, truly turning you into one of us. After that, we seal up your head and then after going through a few tests, enter a training facility to learn to pilot Cybran aircraft.”
“Ok…” Ken said quietly and shifted uneasily. What would happen if they changed their mind? What if they messed up and gave him brain damage?

Just as Ken was about to ask the man something when a Cybran scientist turned and plunged a syringe loaded with greenish yellow liquid into Ken’s bicep. He howled in pain but the shouting soon receded as Ken was taken into a deep sleep.

-1 HOUR LATER-

Ken awoke, his head pounding and vision still blurry. “Raise the bed,” a voice commanded as the beds ascended and folded so it was like a chair. Ken rubbed his head and tried to say something but couldn’t really form a sentence with his addled brain. After all, they did split open his skull. Another voice murmured something and then Ken’s eyes flashed open. His eyesight was perfect again. “Ok. Now, I want you to finish this rubix cube. Make sure each side matches the same color by twisting the rows and columns,” he advised, placing a cube into Ken’s hand. Each side had mismatching color squares. It was a jumbled mess. At first, Ken was overwhelmed but then almost as it was a reflex, his hands were a blur as he rotated the cube, twisting it around and muttering complex algorithms. Ten seconds later, a finished rubix cube sat in Ken’s lap, all of the sides matching. Ken exhaled sharply and picked up the cube, examining all of the sides. Each side was perfectly back in order. He then sat back in his chair and grinned, “What else?”

The man however, was not smiling. He snatched away the rubix cube away and briskly asked him, “What is the definition of a vertical asymptote?”
“The line x = x0 is a "vertical asymptote" of f(x) if and only if f(x) approaches + or as x approaches x0 from the left or from the right,” He said automatically, trying not to appear surprised.
“Good. Good. Now follow me into the virtual simulation room to begin training.” He ordered.
“With all due respect sir, I’m a UEF fighter pilot that just graduated. I’m also an ace so I don’t think any more training is completely necessary.” He said as nicely as he could.
“We still need to see if you follow up with our standards.”
“Sure.”

Ken followed the man into a large room. Hundreds of cockpits lined the walls. In front of each window, was a screen. Today, there weren’t many pilots training on the simulators. Ken climbed into one and examined all of the buttons. There weren’t any except for a control stick. “Fly.” He said, trying to stifle a grin. “Aw, nuts.” He muttered as he gripped the stick and tried his best to start the plane up, trying to act like he knew what he was doing.

----END OF CHAPTER SEVEN----

Keep them replies coming.

I forgot to update the title to say UPDATED JUNE 3 so nobody read it. So uh... bump!

Very good. I gated seraphin with every one from GPG!

Short chapter

----CHAPTER EIGHT----

“Of course…” Ken chuckled nervously, gripping the control stick tighter and waiting to see if anything would happen. Then, the cockpit rumbled violently, catching Ken off balance and sending his head flying into the seat. He quickly rubbed his head and leaned forwards again. The screen displayed the runway of an aircraft carrier. Nothing happened after a few tense seconds of staring deeply at the screen. He chuckled and said, “Here, put this helmet on that links to the screen. It will transfer your brain waves via AI chip,” handing Ken a black helmet with a dark visor and Cybran logos emblazoned on the temples. He grabbed it and shoved it on his head.

The screen grew darker as Ken thought. Move. The screen screeched forward a little bit. The roar of a jet engine flared past him as he watched a Prowler dart into the sky. Ignite Thrusters. The screen lurched and then the runway started going by faster and faster, the growl of the airplane flooding his computerized hearing. Lift. The Prowler’s nose pointed up as the ground rolled under him. Level. The plane’s nose faced completely horizontal. More Prowlers filled his vison, a jet of smoke spewing out of their thrusters. Ken was enjoying this. Fire. A stream of tracers sped ahead and lit the darkening sky up. It didn’t halt like Ken hoped it would. Stop. The stream was cut off abruptly. Then he heard voices, “What is that soldier doing?” questioned a pilot.
“Probably just a rookie,” one replied.
Fresh meat!” shouted another.

Letters scrolled across the screen. It read, “Destroy incoming enemy interceptors.” Then almost immediately, all hell broke loose. Storms of bullets tore through the air, catching some airplanes with a flash of white energy and sending them spiraling downward in an uncontrollable dive. Screams filled his radio transmitter. Ken then used the control stick to maneuver easier, juking and lurching between hails of anti aircraft fire. He glanced down his computerized cockpit and saw dozens of AA emplacements sprinkled across the shadowy forest. Muzzle flashes erupted across the land, sending hails of lead hurtling at his Cybran comrades. The chatter of gunfire sounded like a weed wacker, cutting down friendly troops, smoke coughing out of a plane’s fuselage. Another burst smashed into the Prowler’s underbelly and engulfed it in a ball of fire. A trail of cinders followed the aircraft down to its inevitable fate.

As if the AA fire was a distraction enough, a formation of interceptors screamed towards them. Ken squinted into the dusk and saw that they were Aeon fighters. He poured raw fuel into the thrusters and launched himself at the wing. More Prowlers joined him, guns chipping away at the nimble Conservators. Glancing to the right, Ken saw a Prowler roll left and get caught in a machine gun trail. The bullets shattered the narrow body and disintegrated it in a deafening explosion of orange and yellow. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Maiden of Death snatch another comrade with her merciless claws in a loud boom. Looking straight ahead, he dove down and underneath the swarm of fighters. Tracers flew overhead, missing by a centimeter. One bullet slammed into the top of the cockpit window. Thankfully, it held. Ken swung around fired a barrage at a Conservator. The shells drove into it’s swept back wings and hurtled it into the ground. More bullets zinged by Ken’s cockpit as he wheeled around for another kill. Another burst missed him and splattered on another Prowler. Scowling, he thundered after the attacker, spitting ammunition at the enemy bogy. The Conservator easily turned to the left and then banked right, avoiding the whole anger-driven salvo.

All of a sudden, the KIA report with his dad’s name on it replayed through his mind, then the hail of lead annihilating Dominick from his own machine gun replayed as well. He also saw Korun Findil plunging downward, fiery ashes blowing out the fuselage. “Hey, Ken. I wanted you to know something. My real name is Dan. Dan Bellchime. Goodbye, Ken. I hope you become very successful, just like your father, I love you.” sputtered the same faint cough. It reverberated in his rattled brain, shattering every feeling of happiness he was having. Staggering realization hit him square on the chest like a bag of cement.

Shaking his head, Ken shook the helmet off of his sweaty head and dropped it on the floor next to him, the helmet landing with a soft clatter. The man was still standing there with a triumphant grin on his face. Ken got up and stormed out of the room, wondering what to do with himself.

----END OF CHAPTER EIGHT----

I hope my rant didn't scare anyone away from replying.

*Every one is dead or hiding after all the nukes nuked every inch in the world.*

I take that as a yes...

Good work. The story keeps getting more interesting as it goes on

Thanks, Hokie. Anyway, here's another action packed chapter involving air superiority fighters. In this novel, they actually aren't useless.

----CHAPTER NINE----

The door slid closed behind him. It was a long hallway with a few doors on either side. The man followed Ken. The door slid open. His boots thumped on the metallic floor as he called, “Come back here. Your training is not yet complete.”
“Well, now it is,” seethed Ken.
“I don’t think so,” chortled the man as he reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a stick with a button on the end. He pushed the button down as Ken screamed and writhed in agony at the unknown force. The man let up on the button. Ken pushed himself up, his arms shaking. He bared his teeth at the man, despising him evermore and stood up, refusing to blink. The man however, was unfazed and waved Ken over to the simulator.

Ken reluctantly dragged himself there, muttering insults. The man grabbed Ken with startling strength and threw him into the cockpit. You will train,” he snarled, his carefree expression replaced with an angry stare. Ken shifted uncomfortably in his cockpit chair. The screen lit up as his plane was transported to another carrier but in an icy world. Probably Seraphim II, he thought. “Take off and proceed south,” read the letters as they scrolled the width of the main screen. Ken thought move commands with his AI chip.. The Prowler immediately responded, jet engines roaring to life. After a minute of flying south, more letters slid across the screen. “Attack enemy Cyclones,” it read. Ken stayed glued to his current flight course. Cyclones? He was just about to turn the plane around when he noticed the man reach into his shirt pocket for the button. Ken shook his head and half-heartedly dove into the UEF formation. A Cyclone immediately acknowledged him and started to chase him. Ken barrel rolled and easily dodged the incoming stream of bullets. The early-morning sun brilliantly reflected off of the flying ammunition. The Cyclone and the Prowler passed each other in a split-second, making his ears ring. Ken reeled around again and unleashed a hail of lead. The Cyclone made a futile attempt to lurch left before being cut down. The man said something as Ken heard a clicking sound. More letters scrolled across the screen, “Difficulty: Extra Hard.” “Perfect,” thought Ken, “Just freaking perfect.”

He thundered up towards a scant collection of clouds. Tracers flashed by his cockpit, streaking even closer than before. They had striking blue color. Inverting the Prowler, Ken dove downward to face his enemy. Before he could even get near to completing the turn, the plane screamed right by him. Stretching around to get a visual, he spotted the aircraft. Only it wasn’t a Cyclone. The aircraft spun around with astonishing speed before plunging down towards him. Another burst of tracers shot right by the Prowler’s wing, disappearing ahead of him and hitting a far-away mountain. Ken swore and rolled downward, desperately trying to shake off the new opponent. Another salvo sped by his cockpit; each bullet darting ever closer until Ken could see every detail on it.

Then Ken came upon a horrifying realization; they were Wasps: the air superiority fighters of the UEF air force. He turned left and spotted the Wasp coming down on him. A stream of ammunition darted towards Ken’s Prowler and sheared off both wings. The tattered remnants sailed through the sky, tossing and turning with the force of gusty wind. Ken slammed the- hold on a second. There wasn’t an eject button. “Eject,” thought Ken. He shot out of the imaginary cockpit but the screen immediately darkened.
“You ejected to late,” said the man.
“I’m still getting used to the lack of buttons on this airplane,” muttered Ken.
“Whatever, just follow me to the hangar,” replied the man in disgust.

After walking through meandering corridors, the duo finally reached a large door that had the word Hangar engraved in it. The man moved his fingers over a panel on the left of side it. It was dotted with different buttons and scanners. After granting access to enter, the door slid open and Ken followed him through it. Hundreds of planes were lined up inside of the hangar. The hangar doors were open, light spilling across the hangar. They faced a land bridge with blue water splashing up against it on each side. Cybran Destroyers bobbed up and down with the waves on the East side of the land bridge, their guns pointing north. Squinting, Ken could barely make out the UEF airbase, which he had been abducted from a few days ago. Black shapes rose from behind the airbase. No, hundreds of them.

The man was about to say something when a loud ringing sound whooped throughout the base. The interior was flooded with pulsing red lights. “Hop in a plane and await mission objectives,” the man screamed into Ken’s ear. But Ken had so many questions. Now he had to survive another battle. He rushed to an empty plane and leaped inside the cockpit. After donning the helmet, he whispered takeoff commands, trying his best to ignore the frantic ringing of the air raid alarms.

The Prowler responded and launched off of the runway. Upon reaching the center of the land bridge, incoming Cyclones swarmed towards Ken, guns a blazing. He rolled to the right and then cut left, avoiding a stream of lead. Spotting a Cyclone, Ken opened up with his machine guns and chopped the enemy plane up, fire dancing atop the fuselage. It feebly flipped over, belly up, and dove. Banking left and into a formation of twenty bombers, he spotted a group of Wasps. “Not again,” murmured Ken, slamming his finger on the trigger and spitting machine gun rounds at a Scorcher. Only a handful chipped away at the cockpit, the rest narrowly missing. The UEF bomber went on unhindered.

Ken climbed his plane up, hopefully escaping the Wasps field of vision. It didn’t work. Two air superiority fighters climbed up with him. Except for one small detail: they flew a lot faster. It was like racing a turtle and a gazelle. Multiple barrages of tracers zinged by Kens cockpit, some slamming into the tail wing and tearing it off in a furry of bullets.

The Wasps at first were a kilometer away. In two seconds, they closed a half of a kilometer between them. Having lost the extra stability, the Prowler turned much more sluggishly as if he wasn’t at a big enough disadvantage. Ken plummeted towards the ground. Smoke trailed from behind as Ken desperately tried to gain speed. For now, he was at the mercy of the air superiority fighters.

----END OF CHAPTER NINE----

Keep them replies going. They help me greatly.

For some reason, it din't bump the topic up. Sorry for the double post.

It didn't bump because there's a Fanfic forum now where your thread has been moved to. The thread in General Discussion is just a link.

I just realized that. Thanks for clearing it up, anyway.

Its good that GPG has finally put in a Fan Fic forum.

All I have to say is bump, bump, and away!

Semi-short chapter. Has the ultimate battle between loyalty and friendship.

----CHAPTER TEN----

Even though the Wasps could’ve easily finished him off, they peeled away in search of other targets. Ken heaved a sigh of relief before pulling back up. Then, out of nowhere, a Cyclone swooped down from the clouds and rained ammunition on Ken’s position. Sparks flew as his airplane shuddered under the merciless pounding of the machine guns. He evasively flipped horizontally and rolled the Prowler in a desperate attempt to flee the scene intact. Ken heard a whooshing sound as the Cyclone thundered past.

Peering down, he saw the enemy wheel around for another pass. Ken dove down again and fired his machine guns. Thousands of rounds hurtled at the enemy bogy. It shook and momentarily stalled before a ball of fire engulfed it and sent plane parts flying in all directions before descending into the sea. A column of water shot upward where the shattered Cyclone impacted. Multiple splashes appeared where the falling plane parts hit.

Wisps of smoke floated from his left wing so Ken decided to head back for repairs. Thankfully, the airbase was only two kilometers away. After a minute of cruising, the airbase came into view. Thousands of tracers reached up for the planes dog fighting above in a swirling fur ball. He narrowly avoided a storm of anti aircraft fire and rolled downward. After he touched down, a platoon of engineers rolled near the Prowler. Nano bots hovered above, their red lasers lancing out and repairing the airplane. Then a voice crackled over his radio, “You are cleared for takeoff.”

Ken catapulted off of the runway, avoiding red-hot bursts of anti-aircraft fire. Looking down, he saw a Cybran battleship open up; it’s massive guns recoiling in a boom. The shells launched up pillars of water in front of a UEF Frigate. Another trio of shells plunged into the deck. A loud cracking sound ensued before it slowly sunk beneath the raging torrent of waves, tongues of flame reaching upward. Ken swerved to avoid a cluster of flak before rocketing towards a formation of enemy interceptors. A Cyclone labeled with a box that read, “Fire Cat,” swooped down to meet him. A meandering trail of jet wash followed it. It was Tim Alders.

Ken frantically went into a screaming dive, avoiding a stream of ammunition by mere meters. Sweat poured from his head, drawing a puddle on the cockpit dash. He went inverted and climbed, meeting Tim, in a few seconds. The Cyclone twisted around and fired another short burst before plummeting downward. Ken hesitantly followed and felt the g forces crush his body. Ken tapped his finger on the trigger. Machine gun rounds peppered Tim’s airplane but it miraculously stayed intact as if God was giving Ken a second chance. Tears swelled up in his eyes and started choking up his throat. Picking up the transmitter, he radioed the “Fire Cat.”
“Hey… Tim?” he quivered.
“How do you know my name?” shouted Tim as he twisted his plane around in a desperate attempt to flee. Ken thumbed the control stick and easily tracked him.
“It’s me… Ken. Don’t you remember?” Ken confessed.
“You double crossing bastard!” Tim wailed and lifted his Cyclone’s nose up, unleashing a hail of lead.

The Prowler lurched sideways and got hit a couple times. A broken wing sailed off in the distance. On impulse, Ken slammed the trigger and sent tracers speeding towards Tim. They arced into the aircraft and set it ablaze. Cinders hopped off of the wing that was hanging by a thread. Thick, smoke slipped out from the fuselage. Tim’s plane wobbled dangerously and started flipping around uncontrollably.
“Sorry, buddy.” Ken confessed, wiping a tear that was winding down his face, “Sorry… sorry…sorry.”

A lean figure launched out from the burning Cyclone and dropped into the sea. Right where he landed a shell exploded and sent liquid flying upward. Blood was mixed in as well. The morbid shower splashed back onto the racing waters: Another forgotten victim of the wretched monster.

----END OF CHAPTER TEN----

Should I even continue? Replies would be greatly appreciated. There has to be some readers out there...

Please continue. The storey is quite interesting and filled with interesting amounts of action.