The Post-Three-Sentences-At-A-Time-To-Make-A-Story Game

[Fusion]

Post three sentence at a time. No double posting. Keep it in good taste.

I'll start:

A little cat was walking down the road one day, and saw a table of mice playing cards. Being afraid of mice, he moved to cross the road to walk on the other side. Suddenly, one of the mice yelled out: "Hey! You wanna join?"

[Eileen]

Being an outcast of the feline society due to mild musophobia, she found it ironic that her fear was actually inviting her to play, where as her own kind had abandoned her and considered her as an absolute disgrace. However, the struggle of self identity, the fear of socializing with strangers/other species/mice, and the longing for acceptance and company all intermingled together like a bowl of fruit punch which left the mind of the little cat torned apart ambivalently while she stared shockingly at the mice who questioned her. Seconds passed like years as the little cat debated on her decision.

[qing]

Waking up drenched in sweat, the 120 year old man realized it was all just a dream. He climbed out of his sleeping bag and checked the monitor on the wall for his current location. Seeing that he was just 500000 light years past the edge of the milkyway, one fifth of the way to the Andromeda Galaxy, he climbed down to the exercise room to start his day.

[Moratorium]

He found the running machine broken, or maybe there was no electricity supporting it since the beginning, expected of a ship bought at a bargain price. He sighed as he edged his way toward the kitchen, hoping to find his breakfast safety tucked in the fridge. As he took a glance toward the calender taped to the door of the fridge, the date of 2015 November seventh rang loudly in his head, and he remembered.

[Fusion]

The rain was falling in torrents upon the lifeless figure of his first son, with a fresh gunshot wound in his stomach and a ruthless smile in the face of his beautiful murderer. November 7th, 2015... it was such a long time ago, yet he kept chasing her. Only this obsession - and, of course, the wonders of modern cybernetics - could have kept him alive for such a long time.

[Moratorium]

He had long forgot the meaning of his journey, what is he still chasing for? It should of ended when the bullet flew out of the barrel of his gun and into the temple of her head. However, things were never that simple, and dreams were never that easy to forget.

[qing]

After one last check of all the equipment on the ship, he floated back to bed. Back to the little cat and mice and away from the cold, depressing reality of real life. The cat finally made her choice to join the mice around the table.

[Moratorium]

Tiny paws pressing softly on the pavement, the cat made its way across the road. However, a shrill sound made it stop and turn, to face the incoming car. He jerked awake once more, to find his face bathed in red light as a digital voice spoke over the periodic sound of an alarm, "Approaching destination, approaching destination."

[Moratorium]

The man grunted, feeling disoriented with time. He looked to the watch on his wrist and saw no movement from the brass needles, a piece of trash like the ship. He pulled himself up to the deck, and spotted through the grand window the system that he'll soon touch down upon.

[qing]

"No double posting."

New Earth, the pinnacle of man's existance, zoomed up on the front window, a large blue planet. The ship docked to high orbital platform and the man felt the pressure change in his ear. Dead silence, something is amiss.

[Moratorium]

He took a look at the digital calendar installed on the side panel of his steering wheel, it was a Saturday, the docks should of being crowded with ships of all size and shape. Yet, barely anyone was here, only a few merchants loading their ships with ammunition and gas, and a service bot cleaning the bay as it hummed in a off tune melody. He was expecting someone, but he wasn't seeing any, the start of a plan gone rotten.

[Moratorium]

He pulled the gun off the shelf and locked it onto his belt. There was six shot in this thing, and he isn't planning to use any. Bullet costs more than lives these days.

[Moratorium]

Pulling the lever down by the gate of his ship, he stood and waited for the metal to grind down. It was raining, a crummy day, but certainly better than most days he's seen. He strode out, eyes peeled for any unpleasant movement, wasn't about to get surprise party anytime soon, nor looking to give any compensation.


(Triple post then. :/)

[qing]

( a triple post is actually a double double post, but w/e. also why is there rain in outer space, but w/e)

He walked down the plexiglass walkway peering down at the ominous rain clouds below his feet and saw a table of drunkards playing cards in the lobby. Being afraid of drunkards, he moved to cross the to room towards the space elevator. Suddenly, one of the alcoholics yelled out: "Hey! You wanna join?"

[Moratorium]

(Who says?! You said New Earth, so I assumed it's similar to Earth with it's conditions)

The man pressed the button to the elevator, and turned around, "No," he said it as politely as he could. Like any reasonable human being, the drunkard hardly took the hint, and continued to wobble to the man in a drunken stupor. "No," the man repeated his answer, louder this time, and defined by a motion of his hand revealing the metal chrome barrel of his gun, "But I'm going to value free will and you can choose your destiny."

[qing]

"The ship docked to high orbital platform"

Both men took a step each towards the back of the elevator, with the gun about to be drawn. The drunk man is knocked flat by a small woman who quickly hopped in the elevator and pressed ground floor. "I have been waiting for you," She said. <-- i left if for you to chose he or she lol. w/e

[Moratorium]

(Pfft, New Earth has a thicker atmosphere layer, and is constructed of two layers. The first mechanical layer is on top and overshadow the lower one. And while we are at it, the rain is man made. I hope this thread doesn't turn into a book.)

The man arched his eyebrow, surprised at the sudden entrance. He reluctantly stepped in as the woman held the button to close the door, separating themselves from the drunk man. The elevator descended in the long journey to the ground, allowing the man to take look through its clear window at the pillars that extended from the platform to the earth below.

[qing]

"you dont remember me do you?" the women said with a smile, "that's ok, we'll get your cyberbrain all fixed up." The women offered a piece of gum and the man accepted. Darkness came like a veil over his consciousness.

( u can prob tell, my favourite genre is cyberpunk =D )

[Moratorium]

He came awake to the sound of chattering, "Are you sure he didn't overdose?" came the voice of a worried elderly.

"No he only chewed it for a while," the sound of a woman trying to reassure, but uncertain herself.

"What the...hell...," his initial disillusioned words put the conversation to a halt.

(I do to. So what are you doing this Friday? )

[qing]

(nothing much lol.)

The man got up and looked into the mirror beside him. The face of a young man stared back at him. A flash of memories came rushing back to him.

[Moratorium]

He remembered things that he did do. He remembered things he didn't do. And he remembered something more.

[Fusion]

Something natural - or was it unnatural? Something mechanical. Something... alive.

[Moratorium]

He remembered those days, steps taken as a wanderer. The dry skin cracked as he spread his fingers apart, and the sweat forced down by the raw heat of the sun seeped into them. A sting shot up his arm, and he clutched his hand into a fist, hoping to squeeze out the annoyance.

[qing]

"we have a new mission for you," said the women. "Agent Washington, do you remember your deal with project freelancer?" She hands him a portable memory storage device and left the room.

[Moratorium]

He watched as the woman walked away, leaving him in company with the device. Confused, he picked the small electronic up and turned it from side to side under the dim florescent light bulbs that flicked a few times too many. He was uncertain of its purpose, and stared blankly toward the door through which the woman had left through.

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