So I'm working on writing this short story and I have a very small part done. Please tell me what you think of it, what you like about it or how I can improve it. Or just say whether you like it or not idk. :) Anyway, it's called The Circle and it's based on a script for a Machinima I never finished. So here it is: (The latest stuff is in bold)
Detective Robert Duncan sat quietly in his office on the 23rd floor of the FBI headquarters building in New York City. He had plenty of time for sitting quietly. He hadn't gotten a case assigned to him in over a week. Duncan's office was dark, the only light source was a small green lamp that sat gathering dust on the corner of his desk.
Rob figured he might as well head home, although the setting at home would be no different from work. He'd sit alone in the dim light thinking, just like every night. The only small difference would be the sound of the television softly broadcasting the NBC Nightly News.
He sighed a heavy sigh as he headed toward the lobby down the twenty-three flights of stairs he walked up and down every day for the last twenty-five years. As he reached the lobby, he was greeted by Alice Smith, a thirty-something brunette who had been working as a receptionist at the headquarters for about two years. Rob's eyes met with hers as he walked into the room. Rob had always had a "thing" for Alice.
And why wouldn't I, Rob would say, I mean she's pretty and funny and kind and intelligent and-
"Heading home, Rob?" Alice asked cheerfully.
"What? Oh... Yeah." Said Rob as his mind stopped wandering.
"No you're not"
"Why not?"
"Because Collins just called and said he wants to see you about a case."
"Collins? Head of the FBI Collins?" Rob said, grinning quite stupidly.
Alice laughed. "Yes of course it's that Collins."
"Finally!" yelled Rob.
He raced back up the twenty-three flights of stairs, tripping only once or twice. He reached a door that had the words 'HAROLD COLLINS- CHIEF INVESTIGATOR' engraved on it. Rob braced himself for the potent smell of Cuban cigars that awaited him on the other side and opened the door.
"Duncan! There you are. Sit down! I gotta talk to you." Said Collins happily.
Rob sat down in the chair closest to the desk.
"Alice said you had a case for me?" Rob said hopefully.
The happiness disappeared from Collins' face and was replaced with stern sadness. His voice lowered.
"We um... we found one of the missing children we've been looking for."
Rob smiled, but Collins remained somber.
"Dead." He said, almost whispering, "Mangled pretty bad. Cut up all over. A total mess. The CSIs were barely able to identify the body."
"Damn it Collins! That's 9 missing kids found dead in the last two months!" said Rob, the anger rising in his voice.
Collins took in a deep breath.
"I know, son. That's why I need you to help me find this missing boy before he winds up dead, too."
Collins slid a 5x7 photograph across his dust-covered desk. Rob picked it up tenderly to look at it. It was a young boy, fourteen years old, and his mother, both smiling into the camera.
"The boy's name is Alex Harper." Said Collins as he watched Rob stare inquisitively at the picture. "He went missing a few days ago. Disappeared the same way the other kids did. He went out to meet with some friends and never came home. Now normally I'd say he might have just gotten into some trouble and never made it home. Maybe got wasted and got in an accident. But with all these kids missing recently, I'd say that's not the case."
"I'll find him" Rob said.
"Now wait a minute, Duncan," said Collins, "there's one more thing. Before you make your decision just hear me out."
"What is it?"
"Well the girl we just found, in fact all nine of the children we've found, were killed... ritualistically."
Rob thought he knew what Collins was going to say, but he hoped to God that he was wrong.
"So what does that mean, sir?"
"The cuts, the placing of the wounds, it's all the same and-" Collins paused for what seemed like days to Rob. "They all had the mark of The Circle carved into their palms. You do remember The Circle, right son?"
Rob Duncan remembered The Circle all too well. He wished he couldn't remember, but he did. He remembered the vicious cult's rise. He remembered the countless senseless murders. He had been at the scene of every one of them. Rob was only 22 at the time. It was a lot for a rookie detective to handle, but it was his job. He remembered the panic that it all caused. He remembered the cult promising an uprising that never came. But most of all, he remembered one of the murders in particular.
It was an young man, around twenty years old. Rob had never known him. He was the first one to be killed by The Circle. When he had arrived at the crime scene, he attempted to interrogate the man's wife, but she was too hysterical. Rob was informed 3 months later that the woman passed away. The said it was a heart attack but Rob knew that wasn't what it was.
After the attempted interrogation, he saw the body. The cave they had found the man in smelled like standard death, a smell that Rob was used to. He was not, however, prepared for what he saw. He shone the floodlight an officer had given him into the cave. He moved in deeper until he could see the back of the cave.
As he got closer, he saw that the wall was coated in blood. Rob gagged a bit but kept his ground. The smell was stronger now, far past unbearable.
The body's down here, said Jared Castle, gesturing for Rob to aim his light downward.
As he aimed the light downward, he saw the twisted mass of flesh that was once a man. There were large gashes from his feet to his head. Where his eyes once were, there was nothing. Just bloody sockets and a fearful look upon what was left of his face. His jaw was dislocated, making his face seem surreal. And his palms were faced upwards, with the letter 'C' carved in each of them.
Rob could only look for a moment or two. He lost all control of his mind. Panic filled every inch of him at the sight of this poor man. He dropped his light and fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. In the distance he could hear Jared Castle yelling for medical assistance. Doctors came and carried him out of the cave. He couldn't remember anything else.
For the next few weeks, Rob Duncan sat in his house alone, not speaking and not going to work. Until, of course, the next victim was killed.
"So what's your answer?" Collins asked.
"Where's the girl who was killed?" asked Rob quickly.
"She's still at the scene. She'll be there for a few more hours."
"Take me there."
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