The Mr. Nightcrawler Trilogy: Book I

I figured you were Portuguese from the name. I know that continental Portuguese is different from what I speak, so I guess I could be wrong.

Actually, I'll email the head of the Portuguese department here at school. Hold on....

 

Doc, and my folk's language isn't even continental. From what I've seen, mainlanders can't hardly speak to Azoreans. We're like Atlantic rednecks. And even families from the different islands dislike each other. My people were 3/4 from Terceira, and 1/4 from Flores, and they mistrusted St. George, because you know, the people from that island were "different".

So for continuity, Carl is from Terceira. (which I did actually say in one point during book II)

 

I'm a bit confused.

Is this NC story a replacement for the nerve gas story? That's where he first met Ling, IIRC.

As I said, I'm a bit confused. Loving the story(ies), mind you. Just a bit confused is all.

__________________


And . . . welcome back, Lorenzo.

 

You just gotta love storytellers that break thier own posted deadlines, heh.


Lorenzo and Carl are back Yippee!


cpaspr: Yeah, think of it as the new and improved version

 

cpaspr, I'll try to answer. NC wrote the original story, kind of as a joke, and people really liked it.

So then he wrote book II, and that's when I jumped in with him. People liked number II. Which was a surprise since we made it up as we went along.

So we decided to collaborate and do a III. But in order to do it justice, NC wanted to go back and rewrite book I, so it would have more continuity, and also because he had a different direction he wanted to take it in.

So now you're reading the revamped director's cut of book I. Anything I plug into this thread happened before NC's character did anything. (my guys are older).

Next we're going to clean up II, and then we'll be posting III.

My gosh, it is more complicated than Star Wars.

 

>Which was a surprise since we made it up as we went along<


I don't know why it was that much of a surprise. It had a lot of pull to it. A lot better than many of the bound books I've paid for anywhere.

I got more excited waiting on the next chapter to "Welcome back Mr. Nightcrawler." then I did for any of the stuff I've read recently.

I remember that it took me until about half way through the first post to realize that I was reading a story. It just grew from there.

I really *did* have to buy a new keyboard, and wipe off my monitor once. (I learned to turn my head the other times) The humor as just in an unexpected place and caught me off guard. I even got my roommate into reading the thread when she asked me "What you laughing at?"

The story had it all, humor, guns, action, badguys, a love interest, flashbacks. Two main characters, two different writing styles. I think the writing it by the seat of your pants eevn helped with the draw to it.

 

Well? What were you laughing at?

EDIT: Yes, this replaces the original "So There I Was Again" story. That was just...campy fun, really. I tried to go over it, to make it mesh with the more serious tones of the "Welcome Back" story, and it just wasn't working. Especially since, despite the fact that I'd done no writing in between, my writing style had (inexplicably) improved quite a bit in the intervening two years. So, I started from scratch.

There's still humor there. You just have to have been a college student to appreciate most of it. Though, Valentine's armor not fitting anymore was, I personally think, hilarious.

 

Freshman 15?

Heck. I gained 17 pounds between the 18th of September and Thanksgiving my freshman year. 17 pounds in 2 months! Never mind in the whole freshman year.

But then I ate like a pig at Thanksgiving and actually lost 5 pounds. Less starch I guess. Changed my eating habits from all-you-can-eat to a light breakfast and a light dinner and held steady for the next 5 years. But, oh, to be that light again - sigh. Or even 15# over that - sigh again.

________________

But yeah, that freshman 15 reference was funny! At my college you could always tell which girls were freshman class when the sun came out and they all tried to get a tan. The sophomores and up had learned how to eat to keep their weights steady, but not the fresh. . .uh, freshwomen.

 

I just wish one of these guys liked a S&W K frame, but since there is a S&W 44mag in here, I can't complain too much.

 

BOOKMARK

 

Correia!!

This thread just went from major most excellent to especially major most excellent!


More please!

 

Correia, I just thought of another exclamation that works (although it's probably also a Brazilianism) - "Puta que pariu" means "the whore who gave birth" and is used the same as other exclamations. "Filho da puta" sounds a little strange now that you've put it in there. There's also "caralho," which is technically a slang term for penis but when used as an exclamation has no such meaning. That's probably the most common in Brazil.

I've asked a PHd in portuguese, and I'll let you know.

 

This! It was at this point that Dr Pepper, through the nose and into the keyboard rendered it impossible to use.

I ended up using that as an excuse to get a keyboard with glowing letters (easier to see while gaming in the dark)

As a side note. I did get the Dr. Pepper out of the old keyboard and have hooked it up to my laptop. Sugar ants cleaned it out for me. No joke. Let the things get into it for a two days then sprayed the entry point they were using. While not good as new it still works decently

 

*Ahem*.....

Far be it from me to be whiny impatient pain in the posterior...

but...isnt it ABOUT TIME FOR ANOTHER CHAPTER!!???


OR 4????

PRETTY PLEASE!!!!!!

Dont make me beg again......pretty please

 

I am not the best at translating vulgarity...don't use it myself, but I know a few words that brazilians are fond of using. I'll be happy to help out if i can...

 

AtomicFerret, you may not use profanity now, but you're working in the gun business with PvtPyle. Give it some time...

 

Hey Guys, Great stuff as usual.

 

'Crawler, I've been writing this as I've read the thread:

Well, Hoss, I waited a week from the time that I saw your thread appear until I finally opened it and began to read. Why?

For your first two forays into installment fiction, it seemed that I was checking the thread at almost every new post: I'd then read another member writing, "Wow, NC, this is Great!!!"

...true, but I wanted Another Chapter, Dammit!

We've all been getting the popcorn and the comfy chairs, PMing our friends and clearing the decks...

Fat Chance. oneslowgun nailed it when he wrote,"We really like the work, we are just trying not to clutter it up."

Larry, nobody's forgotten your style and panache in the last one, either. Before I knew you'd show up in this thread, I wrote: {Now Shhh...everybody pretend to ignore Larry so he'll let us get our hands on Monster Hunter.} Then I read Post #91 and thought, Never mind that, Larry. Wheee!

Post #97: Oh, Yeah. Larry's still got it, too.

What do we want to read when we open up a Nightcrawler thread?

All together, now:

 

Happy Bob, thanks.

Just to clear this up before I receive another fifty PMs asking about it, I was all set to self publish Monster Hunter International. I had spent the last year getting massive compliments from all of its readers, but rejection after rejection from agents and publishers, even while they told me that they personally loved it, but didn't think it was marketable, or that it was too long for a first timer, or that it didn't fit into a specific genre.

So the envelope was on the desk, ready to go to the self publisher, when I got contacted by a big-dog publisher. Yes, they contacted me. Thanks to a reader of the Welcome Back thread with contacts in the publishing industry, he read MHI, and passed it up the food chain, to some very important people in the book industry who thought it rocked.

So MHI skipped over the slush pile (where it had died without response the year before), passed through their first readers with enthusiastic endorsements, and is now sitting on the boss publisher's desk.

So now I'm waiting. This is my last ride on the rejection rodeo. If they pick it up, then MHI will have wide distribution. If not, then that envelope I mentioned goes back into the mail, and MHI is two months out from being available on Amazon.

I'll have more posted in this thread, either tonight or tomorrow.

 

I just wanted to pop in, and say I am a new member. I found this site about a week ago, and found the Nightcrawler/Correia stories, and got very involved in them.

I had to join up, and I have to say, this appears to be an awesome forum and a great group of people here.

Keep up the good work guys, and Correia, I want to read Monster Hunter Intl so keep me posted on it's release!

Thanks!

Neocode

 

Welcome to The High Road, Neocode! Got your seat belt on? 'Crawler & Correia are rolling again!

 

doubletap.

 

Me, too, but our problem is we don't know which of them a Portuguese would use.

 

10, Part 1

10: Consequences

It was just after noon by the time the van turned back into the NMU lower parking lot. Ling drove, and I was in the passenger’s seat. Austin had fallen back asleep in the rear.

“I guess this is it,” I said as Ling pulled to a stop.

“Will you consider my offer?” Ling asked, looking into my eyes.

“I will,” I said. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll consider it.”

“That is all I ask,” she said. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Thank you for your generous payment,” I said, tapping the briefcase between our two seats. I extended my hand, and Ling took it. I shook her hand gently and got out of the van. Briefcase in hand, I slid the side door open and shoved Austin on the shoulder. His snoring stopped abruptly as he was startled awake.

“Wake up sleepy-head! Put your shoes on, we’re at grandma’s!” I said lightly, smiling, as he drowsily stepped into the afternoon light, squinting. He hadn’t even woken up when we stopped at the storage unit to drop off my stuff. I slid the van’s door shut, then stepped back to the passenger’s side door. The window was down. I smiled at Ling. She gave me the slightest of smiles in return, then put the van in gear and drove off. I watched it until it was around the corner and out of sight.

“Here,” I said, handing Austin the briefcase. It was one of those fancy aluminum ones like you see in the movies.

“What’s this?”

“Your payment. Ten thousand, remember?” His eyes grew wide, and he started to unlatch it. I stopped him.

“Don’t open that out here! Geez. C’mon, let’s get inside. Becky’ll be happy to see you. Oh, and here’s your camera.” We made the long hike from the lower parking lot to Spanner Hall in silence. It was a peaceful Sunday afternoon, and the sun was shining. It was like everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours had been a dream. I could tell that was what was going through Austin’s mind. He looked around, and then down to the briefcase in his hand, with an almost bewildered look on his face. I smiled to myself.

A few minutes later, we finished trudging up the steps to the third floor of Spanner Hall. We stopped in front of Austin’s room, and he started to unlock the door. Before he could finish, it opened. Rebecca looked rather frazzled as she let us in; I didn’t think she’d slept much. Poor thing must’ve been up all night worrying.

“So…um…how’d it go?” she asked after a long, awkward silence.

“It’s done,” I said flatly. “There’s your payment. Austin, I thank you again for your assistance.”

“Austin? Did you…I mean, did…”

“No, darlin’,” I interrupted, “he didn’t. He just helped us take care of the children. I did most of the shooting. Austin didn’t have a weapon.” Rebecca was visibly relieved. I think at that moment Austin understood the real reason I hadn’t armed him.

“They were just kids,” Austin said slowly. “The oldest was fifteen, Becca. Fifteen. We…we saved them.” Rebecca grabbed Austin and squeezed him so hard I thought his head would pop. I chuckled to myself.

“There’s your money, like we agreed,” I said, pointing to the case in Austin’s hand. “Remember, don’t put that all in the bank. No more than a few thousand, okay? Now…” I yawned. “****. I really need to get some sleep. Austin, it was nice working with you.” I grabbed his hand and firmly shook it. “See you guys in class tomorrow, okay?” I stepped out of Austin’s dorm room, slowly closing the door behind me.

“So what’s he like? Really like, I mean?” I heard Rebecca whisper to Austin just before I pulled the door shut. Almost smiling, I wearily plodded into my room. I un-holstered my revolver and slid it under my pillow. I feel asleep without even bothering to take my shoes off.

 

10, Part 2

“HUDSON!” I screamed. He groaned in pain as a rifle bullet tore through the soft armor on the side of his vest, missing his protective hard armor plate, and plunged into his body. He staggered back and fell to the ground, blood pouring out of the wound.

“MAN DOWN!” I yelled into my radio. Trying my best to keep my FAL shouldered with only my left hand, I grabbed the drag strap on Hudson’s armor and began to pull him down the corridor. Another one of the gun runner’s men appeared, and I fired off four rounds before he could get a bead on me. I didn’t hit him, though, and…

“****!” Pain shot through my arm, causing me to drop Hudson. I nearly dropped my rifle as well, and looked down to see blood begin pouring out of my right forearm. The bullet hadn’t broken the bone, I didn’t think, and…CRUNCH! I wheezed as the wind was knocked out of me, and I stumbled to the floor. I looked back towards the huge steel shipping crates that the gun runner’s men were using for cover in time to see the man with the H&K G3 rifle appear again. Laying on my back, I took a bead on him and fired three times. He fell to the floor, dropping his rifle with a clatter.

“**** YOU!” I screamed at the man I’d just killed. ”I’M HIT!”

“You okay?” Jeff appeared behind me just then, from around the dog-leg in the corridor.

“Yeah, armor stopped it.” The ceramic Small Arms Protective Insert plates in my vest had saved my life, stopping the powerful 7.62mm bullet from tearing right through me.

“Your arm!”

“**** it! Help me up, we’ve gotta…****!” More shooters appeared, and Jeff and I fired on them again. He kept firing his HK33K carbine as I reloaded my FAL. My reload was slow and clumsy, and I nearly dropped the spare magazine. Blood continued to pour out of my arm. I hit the bolt release and fired off four more shots, again screaming obscenities at our adversaries. Jeff then helped me to my feet, and we each grabbed one of the shoulder’s of Hudson’s armor vest and dragged him around the corner, leaving a smear of his blood on the floor as we went.. Hawk leaned around the corner and provided cover fire with his own FAL carbine. Jeff pulled me to my feet and together, we succeeded in getting Hudson around the corner. Triana was waiting there, an MP5 hanging from a sling, with a first aid kit.

“Are the charges set?” Hawk asked.

“Yeah…Let’s get the **** out of here.” The mission had gone badly. The gun runner was dead. I had in my pocket the unique ring he’d worn on his finger, some ancient Roman relic that he’d paid an un-Godly sum of money for, to prove it. I’d left Hawk, Jeff, and Triana in the corridor to cover the main entrance to the place while Hudson and I set the charges. I had no idea a truckload of the gun runner’s men would enter the building from the other side.

“Hopper, he’s hurt bad!” Triana said, tearing Hudson’s body armor and equipment off. “I don’t know if I can stop the bleeding!”

“Do what you can!” I got on the radio again. “Corwin! We’re leaving! Get over to the north door and stand by!”

“Roger!” he replied. Corwin, still slowly recovering from his wound, was left to drive the van. He wasn’t really in any shape for that, either, but I couldn’t spare anyone else.

“We gotta go!” I yelled to Triana.

“I’m afraid to move him!” she said.

“If we don’t go, we’re all dead. Come on!” Jeff and Hawk lifted Hudson up and carried him down the corridor towards the door. His dark skin was losing color due to blood loss. I began to feel light headed myself as my arm continued to bleed. Triana led the way, weapon at the ready, while I lingered behind, covering our exit. A man appeared around the corner at a full run, AKM rifle in hand. I was on him before he could bring his weapon to bear. My FAL barked deafeningly in the narrow corridor, and the bullet tore through his right side, exiting out the left. He flopped to the floor and didn’t get back up.

“I’m at the north door!” Corwin said over the radio. “Where are you?” Just then, Triana shoved the double doors open, ran the short distance to the van, and opened its back doors. I made my way backwards down the corridor as Jeff and Hawk loaded Hudson into the van as quickly as they could. As soon as this was done, I turned around and began to run towards the end of the corridor. I was quickly losing blood, and the doors seemed a lot farther away than I remembered them being. I plodded on. As I came to the doors, I saw Jeff, almost in slow motion, yell something at me.

“GET DOWN!” It took me a second to react, but I dove to the floor. Jeff brought his carbine up and fired off a long burst in full auto, right over my head. Hawk fired off a few rounds as well, his Paratrooper FAL barking loudly in the corridor. Still laying on the floor, I turned and looked behind me. Two more armed men had come around the corner, and both were now dead. I tried to push myself up, but pain shot through my arm and I collapsed back to the floor. Jeff and Hawk ran to me, grabbed me by the armor, and hoisted to my feet. They practically threw me in the van, and Hawk yelled at Corwin to go before we even had the rear doors closed.

“Hopper!” Hawk yelled at me. “The demo! Fire the demo!” His voice sounded distant, but I heard him. I pulled the large radio initiator out of a pouch on my vest and extended the antenna. I flipped the safely lever out of the way.

“Fire in the hole.”

I squeezed the clacker. Half an instant later, the ammonium nitrate fuel-oil bomb we’d left in the warehouse detonated. The roof the building erupted into a huge fireball, and secondary explosions and fires began as vast quantities of stored munitions began to cook off and ignite.

I exhaled heavily, and sat against the side of the van, clutching my right arm with my left. My rifle was laying in my lap, still slung to me, and my sleeve and pant leg were covered in blood from my wound. I watched in a daze as Triana, Jeff, and Hawk tried to save Hudson’s life. He reached up, clutched Triana’s arm, then went limp. He was gone..

“No!” she said, and began to perform CPR. She continued for almost a minute before Hawk stopped her. He looked at her and gently shook his head. Triana slumped back, resting against the wall, as Hawk gently closed Hudson’s eyes.

****, I thought, banging my head against the wall. It’d been our first mission with me in command, and I’d lost a man. Hudson was dead, and it was my fault.

“Let’s get that arm patched up, kid,” Hawk said, appearing in front of me. It was the last thing I heard before falling unconscious.