Ascension # 0/(Group) Legends Reborn

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whoisme

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#1  Edited By whoisme

Two years ago the world laughed when an isolated island called Grandoi declared war against all other countries. The nations of the world didn’t realize that they would be hopelessly outgunned.

It turns out that Grandoi had invented time travel, or at least a version of it. Their time machine allows them to gain the knowledge and abilities from people in the future in a process called “invoking”, which they use to build weapons that are centuries more advanced than the rest of the world.

The world tries to replicate this technology, and succeeds: to an extent. They can only gain memories and abilities from people of the past. But it turns out that magic is real and most governments already know that, so the world’s military invokes heroes from various legends and mythologies into their greatest soldiers.

Put simply, who wins: past or future?

Contribute your own stories if you want. Think of your favorite mythical heroes and how cool it would be to see them in the modern world.

Ascension # 1

When the city gates opened, revealing the crude figure and flashing glass eye of an eradicator, a single thought bloomed in General Brandon Green’s mind, drowning all the others . Well, that was the shortest raid ever.

Every man of his knew that the U.N. needed a win. Any kind of win. The world had looked on in bored bemusement when some unheard of speck of an island called Grandoi declared war. That didn’t last long. The self styled Grand Builders lived up to their name, unleashing armories, armies, vollies and fleets of weapons: bomb whose fires could ignite steel and brick and concrete as easily as paper; microscopic machines that, after invading the bloodstream, swam to the brain and devoured it from inside; plating and armor that bazooka rockets could only glance off of, yet was still light enough to carry or walk in; blinding beams of energy that dissolved organic tissue into sand. Thousands more,the effects and workings of each regularly reduced modern scientists to banging their heads against a wall in confusion. The battles were as persistent as rainy days, but Grandoi marched, drove, flew and sailed strong as ever, while the world had only claimed the barest of victories.

.The plan was simple, like plans always seemed to be. New Grandoi was a mining colony on the edge of Europe, processing metals and such and sending them back to the mother country. The Powers-that-be decided that if over ninety-nine percent of your military strength is made of metal, then maybe that’s a good area to start changing the tide. That’s where Brandon came in.

He slunk out of the forest crouching low, one hand lugging a ballistic shield, the other clenching a sleek black machine gun in a sweaty grip. The sound of his men’s footsteps on the dewy grass behind him was hushed but present. Even adorned in helmets and kevlar vests and muddy marching boots, they felt chillingly naked. At least he did. His orders were to take the thousand men at his back, barge through New Grandoi’s gate, burn its buildings, bomb the mines and shoot anyone who looked official. Then get out.

The last part didn’t seem so likely anymore. Damnit! Brandon lifted his gun, took aim for the eradicator’s eye and crushed the trigger for all he was worth. He might as well have thrown pebbles: the spray of bullets bounced off leaving it just as unmarred.

Patches of the eradicator’s shoulders slid somewhere inside, creating two dark recesses. Out of them spewed twisting twin clouds the color of ink. The air pulsated rhythmically as they flurried towards Brandon’s men.

“Hummers!”, Brandon screamed, and he heard others echo. Their cold discipline dissolved, and men scurried back towards the forest or fired wildly into the air. Both were equally useless.

Something like a bullet zoomed through a man’s neck, staining his white skin. But it wasn’t a bullet. Even as it’s victim collapsed, gurgling on his own blood, with a glint of coppery wings.the hummer darted at Brandon. But his ballistic shield was already up and the impact didn’t do any more than jar the bones of his arm.

It was a miracle that he saw the eradicator coming at him in time. He clumsily jumped and rolled out of the way, its gleaming metal fist burying itself in the dirt where I had been.

His legs started pumping into a sprint back towards the forest, ‘cause why the hell not? He passed by a guy staggering, arms and belly stained red. Somehow he had kept the hummers away from his head and chest. Something pushed Brandon, maybe another guy running, and he sprawled face down in the mud.

His shoulder screamed when a hummer burst through it and into the ground, but he bit my tongue bloody, thinking fast and playing dead among the thousand corpses who hadn’t even made it to the gate.

Eventually the humming faded away. Brandon didn’t open my eyes for a long time.

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cbishop

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#2  Edited By cbishop

@whoisme: I think your Grandoi are too powerful, but it will be interesting to see if you can balance it out with the magic from the rest of the world. Towards the end of your story, you bounce back-and-forth between 1st and 3rd person narrative- you need to clean that up. Otherwise, interesting story. Call me out if you do more. :)