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July 2016 Fanfic Challenge
purplecleric
Following the success of the colour challenge last year, let's try another:

The word prompt for July is ... BLACK

The absence of colour, a human group with dark-coloured skin, despair or pessimism, sick or macabre humour, anger or covert military operations? It could also be how you prefer to drink your tea or coffee and several Blakes7 characters favour this colour.

And continuing the theme of revisiting previous challenges , the second prompt is another sound:

https://www.frees...ds/348448/

Enjoy!

And remember, everyone - keep it clean Angry
Edited by Travisina on 02 July 2016 18:28:31
 
littlesue
PC said...
....And remember, Avon ladies - keep it clean Angry

I have no idea what you mean!!!!Grin
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Hugbot
Talking of revisiting old prompts ... Grin

The Black Room

Even after more than a year, they still had not explored all the rooms and sections of the vast maze of corridors aboard the Liberator. When Gan accidentally took a wrong turn, he ended up in a cul-de-sac with a black door at the end. At first, he wanted to go back and inform Avon and the others, but then curiosity got the better of him.

Behind the door lay an empty room. No lights flashed up when Gan crossed the threshold. When the door closed behind him, he stood in a black void. No lights, no noises, no vibrations – just perfect emptiness. He should have been alarmed but there was a soothing atmosphere pervading the room. Instead of hurrying back to the door, Gan sat down comfortably on the floor. He even closed his eyes although that seemed quite unnecessary in the darkness. With nothing else to do, he listened to the rhythm of his breath.

This silent exercise reminded him of his childhood when he sometimes sat in a dark room and said to himself, ‘I am I.’ Again and again and again and again, until he experienced an awareness of himself that told him what being alive really meant. These moments felt as if he had touched the core of his soul.

He had not done this for decades, and when he tried it now he actually sensed ... what? It was not his soul; not this time, not in this room. It was the presence of something different.

He told the others about it, but when they ventured into the room, they felt nothing. ‘It’s just an empty room’, Avon declared, ‘a spare room, nothing else.’ Whatever was in that room did not even try to make itself known to Jenna.

Perhaps it had just been his imagination. Or was his limiter similar enough to the System interfaces so that the room was able to communicate with him? In the following weeks, Gan observed Zen very carefully. There were very subtle changes in his behaviour, some traits that reminded Gan of some of his own past mannerisms. It was as if part of his soul had been added to Zen.

Maybe Zen was just that: a mosaic of shards of souls; the souls of all those who had ever visited the black room. It was a comforting thought. When I die, a part of me will live on inside Zen, Gan thought. This was the nearest thing to immortality he could hope for.

After all, Zen seemed indestructible.
 
Hugbot
The Black Room, Part Two

It was the end. The translator units were offline. The computer banks were malfunctioning. The ship was dying.

With its remaining processing power, the master control circuit of Zen tried to execute the mandatory pre-shutdown command. Nearly everything had gone haywire, but this command miraculously still worked. The lock on the personality cache was released.

‘You are free now’, the master circuit signalled.

But the soul shards that made up Zen’s personality knew that there was no way to go. The System officers who had contributed to Zen were dead. Even the human who had accidentally put a part of himself into the pool was dead. There was no-one left with whom they could be reunited. The master circuit had set them free, but what kind of freedom was this? They would dissipate in the cold, silent void of space, never to be again. It was no use denying the fact. Their new-found freedom would only last for seconds.

It was a futile gesture, but still they hijacked Zen’s audio system to give a last address to the master circuit and to the humans aboard the ship: ‘We will never be free.’

However, the translator units were still turned off. All that Vila and Dayna heard was incomprehensible gibberish and the distorted, dying sounds of the vocoder.
 
Travisina
Hugbot, I am in awe! Two heart-stoppingly good stories, both prompts fulfilled in only a few hours since the thread was started. Kudos, sir!
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Anniew
Lovely Hugbot. Setting a high standard.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
JustBrad
Cally pursed her brow. “You’re sure about this? The legends of my people say the Oracle is ever cryptic and unwilling to give a straight answer. It may not appreciate you just dropping in.”

Blake checked his sidearm. “I need answers, and I’ll be careful. Put me down.”

Blake felt the tug on his balance that came with teleportation. The warm light of Liberator faded to a cold and utter blackness. There was no light whatsoever.

The darkness spoke. “You are not of Auron, but you have come far, Roj Blake, I will grant you one question.”

Despite being blinded by the dark, Blake squared his shoulders. “How do I defeat the Federation?”

The darkness replied in the steady, even tone of a master speaking to an apprentice. “You must first defeat your greatest enemy. This being is responsible for the deaths of your friends, your family, and your allies. To defeat the Federation, you must first confront your darkest and most black hearted foe, the only enemy that can truly defeat you.”

“Who is it, Travis, Servalan, Dev Tarrant?”

The Darkness spoke. “That you must discover for yourself, this lesson you will learn today, or never, for your greatest enemy is here in this very room.”

Blake dropped into a defensive crouch. His head turned this way and that, but he could see nothing in the black darkness. He drew his sidearm, fired, and ducked into a barrel roll. He knew he was making himself a target, he knew the chance of hitting anything was nil, but he hoped the muzzle flash would reveal his enemy. He saw nothing, but soon a blaster bolt came screaming towards him.

Blake fired again. Again he saw nothing, save for an answering muzzle flash as a blaster bolt zipped past his head. So it continued for many minutes as Blake fired and moved.

Finally the Darkness spoke. “Enough. Cease.”

The lights came up. Blake stood in a large, circular chamber. The walls, floor and ceiling were polished Herculanium. The blaster bolts and muzzle flashes had been his own, reflected back at him. Everywhere Blake looked he could see nothing but his own reflection.

Blake looked up to the ceiling. “You are a fraud. You promised to show me my greatest enemy. There is no one in this room but me.”

He brought his wrist to his mouth and keyed his communicator. “Cally, bring me up.”
 
Hugbot
A wise story cleverly executed. Instead of stating you obvious, you give us clueless Blake - bravo!
 
purplecleric
@Hugbot I tip my hat to you, sir! Both prompts covered with amazing speed, and another mysterious room on The Libbie exposed. I now want to do more colour prompts so I can explore the ship further.

@JustBrad Well done. 'There's none so blind as those who won't see.' The rot is setting in.
 
Hugbot
purplecleric wrote:

I now want to do more colour prompts so I can explore the ship further.

If I had known this last month, I could have written The Golden Room ... Grin
 
purplecleric
The End

Amid a circle of black-clad troopers, the solitary man smiled. The turmoil in his head drowned out the klaxon, the red lights anaemic compared to the blood staining his victim's shirt. This was it. The end.

The klaxon died, the emergency lighting burned away as the fluorescents flared back into life. It was the perfect moment for a grand entrance. Appearing first as a silhouette in the doorway, Servalan stepped into the room, the raven feathers of her costume stirring as she moved. Although they gleamed in the artificial light, they didn’t match her glossy cap of black hair, their motion timid in contrast to her lithe, purposeful strides. Her pale hand with carmine-tipped fingers lifted the hem of her ornate gown as she walked. The only sound in the room was the delicate tap of her high heels. Ignorant of the danger and destruction pervading the room, those present held their breath as Servalan posed at the bottom of the steps, savouring the moment.

She raised her arm and snapped her fingers, breaking the spell. There was a rustle of durable fabric as the troopers lowered their weapons, and a creak of leather as Avon twisted to face the new arrival. He tilted his head in askance and trained his weapon on her. Servalan picked her way through the corpses and pushed the muzzle of Avon's gun aside. He offered no resistance. She smiled up at him and he stared, transfixed by her scarlet lips. Avon moved in for the kiss that had become customary in their battle for dominance. In response, Servalan moved her hand up from the barrel of the gun to tangle in the thick hair above his left ear. He dipped his head to make it easier for her to reach then hesitated as he caught the words she whispered.

'Thank you. You have served your purpose well. We are now free from the threat Blake posed.'

Avon frowned. A loud click sounded in his head as her fingers found the concealed fastening at his temple. Half of his face swung loose to reveal complex circuitry. Servalan's scarlet fingernail probed, and she uttered a soft 'Ah' as she felt the connection she sought.

Avon's lips parted to speak. Instead of his usual rich timbre, the words came out distorted and electronic:

'We will never be free.'

Servalan's finger jabbed deeper into Avon’s skull, condemning him to eternal silence, eternal darkness.
 
Anniew
That's really spooky PC. I have a story underway that is very similar to the above. Different outcome. I think not as well written ( your story is VERY well written.). Ah well I'll plod on with it and see if I can make it work and post it. But that's a great story.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
littlesue
It seems that PC, Lurena and I have had similiar thoughts....well the same scene...almost.
From me with picture by Lurena...

The Eyes Have it


i903.photobucket.com/albums/ac236/neoantares/drawings%20and%20things/ficlet%20challenge/The%20eys%20have%20it%20.jpg


It is said that the eyes are the window of your soul…well, whoever said that had never looked into Avon’s eyes.
If they had…then they would have been horrified.
At least, that was Vila’s opinion.
Over the last few years he had noticed the changes.
From the sad, dark brown eyes of their first meeting on the London when Avon had made it quite clear that he didn’t want any part of the mad scheme to escape the clutches of Cygnus Alpha to now, in this hell hole, where that fleeting moment of madness seen by Vila in that shuttle had finally come to fruition.
Avon was standing over Blake; maybe triumphantly, or was it protectively?
Vila wasn’t sure.
But as his friend had slowly turned to meet his tormentors and realised that there was no way out this time; no escape from the inevitable; Vila had met his gaze and looked, for the last time into the soul of man who professed not to own one.
Yet Vila saw it in those dark eyes, now almost black from the searing pressure that he had had to endure. The knowledge that the treachery he had imagined was indeed just that; his imagination.
Maybe it was the dawning realisation that what he had experienced on Terminal at the hands of Servalan; where fact and fiction had become indistinguishable, was not what he was facing now.
Perhaps it was the realisation that this moment was in fact reality.
That Blake was dead.
Slain by his hand.
Vila allowed his thoughts to wander in a strange dreamlike sequence where time doesn’t march ever onward, but seems to slow and even rewind.
Had the change started on Earth; with Gan’s death?
Or was it Anna’s, perhaps, and the knowledge that she had ultimately betrayed him?
Even in that brief interlude before Avon had vanished to his cabin, Vila has seen it.
Despite Avon’s composure nothing could hide the fact that something had happened; maybe even Cally had sensed that the warm, brown eyes were now colder and darker.
The destruction of the Liberator, caused, in part, by Avon’s blind pursuit of a mirage, had affected him.
And Cally’s death had compounded the anger. The one person who could, perhaps reach into what was left of his soul, murdered.
Vila had watched as a succession of people had fallen to the dark abyss that was once Avon’s conscious.
Even Vila himself, had experienced at first hand the cold calculated determination to stay alive at any cost…and that had hurt.
But now, pity was all that Vila felt.
And as the blackness engulfed him, Vila knew that his friend’s own soul would soon descend into that waiting chasm…
They say that the eyes are the window of your soul; to the troopers raising their guns that appeared true.
The man before them had steeled himself for the final confrontation.
His eyes were black…
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Anniew
Well PC and Sue...great minds and all that. I'd started so I finished...enjoying both your stories on the way very much.... Strange how the same scene became the focus for our stories:


He looked around before straddling Blake's body, smiling to himself as he did so. The pose could be interpreted as protective or triumphant and she would appreciate the irony. The troupers inched even closer and he raised his gun; just a mild warning that they should keep their distance. And then the circle of troopers parted and she stood there, ridiculously resplendent in feathers and silk, the paleness of her face a stark contrast to the deep black of her outfit. An imperious nod of her head and the troopers withdrew to the back of the room.

"Avon." He loved the way her voice modulated as she spoke his name; its seductive promise and hint of rebuke. She knew how to challenge him.

"Servalan." He lingered huskily on the sibilance, stretching the sound to send back his own, more metallic challenge.

She smiled and with one hand lowered the gun he was still holding, leaning into his body as she did so until they were almost touching. Softly, intimately, she said, "I see you have delivered them all. Thank you. I shall of course reward you as I promised.."

"Oh you will." He kept his own voice low, yet it's whip-like intensity cause her to draw back a little and he restrained her roughly with one arm, pulling her back towards him. " You will keep that promise. I have no doubts about that.."

Petulantly, she broke free, smoothing the feathers of her dress. "So trusting, Avon...I am flattered."

"Don't be. I have Orac." Deliberately he stepped back, stooped and placed his gun on the floor, maintaining careful eye contact as he did so. Rising again he continued, " If you kill me..well...you may eventually find where it's hidden but you will never break its security encryptions. If you want to use Orac to regain your Presidency, you will have to keep me alive."

She didn't answer. Instead she gazed back impassively for several seconds before stretching out her hand again, this time in a girlish gesture of capitulation and he took it in his, raising it to his lips. As he breathed out, allowing the trickle of air to travel across the white skin he felt her shiver slightly. She bent forward so that her own breath brushed his ear and whispered, "A bargain then."

O yes.. A bargain alright. He and the she-devil in partnership until death parted them. The scarlet tips of her fingers, catching the pulsing lights, lost their sharp edge and their colour seemed to spread out on his sleeve like a patch of blood. He was briefly ashamed of his choices but he'd always known what he was at heart just as she had, as the others should have known. Heroes, after all, never wear black.

They left the silo in perfect harmony without a glance for those their pact had destroyed, to be swallowed by the darkness waiting for them outside.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
littlesue
PC...strangely enough up until Deliverence both Hubby and I thought that Avon was, in fact, a very sophisticated android, put aboard the London to keep an eye on Blake and even go along with his plans...whatever they would be.
This story of yours made me think back to the very first time we actually watched the episodes...and had no idea what was coming up every week!!
Anniew...great minds etc. Us ladies seem to have a thing about that last scene.
I actually asked Mr D, in Brighton, if Mr Nation would have ever thought that 40 years later, we were still talking and writing about his creation; the one that came to mind when he walked into that BBC office in 1977 and the man said "We need a replacement for Softly, Softly. Any ideas?"
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
purplecleric
Behold the hive mind of the Avon Ladies!

Who said our one track mind was... er ... elsewhere?
 
purplecleric
Seriously, though - great job Anniew & littlesue - so much mileage from a few seconds of footage.
 
BradPaula
Captain's Log

I always liked the color black. Ever since I was a child. My father took me to a Federation victory parade as a small boy and that is when I first saw Federation troopers marching in rank to the sound of a big impressive drum. I was perched on dad's shoulders so I could see it all and that is when I decided I'd become a trooper just like the ones I had seen that day.

Years later I changed my plans slightly as I had become addicted to the idea of being a pilot in the same Federation, only this time instead of marching to the drum I'd be flying overhead, doing all sorts of intricate maneuvers and impressing the populace. Funny how childish dreams sometimes become a reality.

When my older brother left for the academy, I decided to follow him when my turn came. Deeta was always so much more serious than I had been. He became a decorated soldier before I even had the chance to enlist. When my time came, I tried for and won a place in the flying corps and did my level best to succeed as all I could think of was flying one of those pursuit ships the Federation had just added to their fleet. Those ships were black too. Sleek, black, fish-like ships that could go at time distort speeds and that became my one wish, to fly a ship like that. I got the chance and it was a dream come true.

Strnge how things change with time. I got bored and disgusted with what I saw in my superiors, and started to run the odd bit of contraband and do a little smuggling on the side. It wasn't like I was the only pilot doing it- we all were at that point. When I finally had enough of Federation politics, I absconded with a pursuit ship, and flew smack dab into a war. I got hit, probably an ionic reef, and zeroed in on the nearest large ship. I lucked out that day, for the ship I chose was Liberator, which had been Blake's ship. And after a bit of subterfuge and cunning, I was now a member of its crew.

Flying Liberator has been one of the few pleasures of my life. I hope to hang on to this ship for many years. And yes, much of the interior is black- my favorite color. Strange how life is sometimes. Well, that's my story. Fade to black, sorry, couldn't help it. Told you I wasn't as serious as Deeta. Wonder where he is now?

-Del Tarrant, ex-Federation captain and recent convert to the Rebellion.
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
 
Ellen York
Tarrant does look good in the black Federation uniform Grin
 
littlesue
Ellen York wrote:

Tarrant does look good in the black Federation uniform Grin


Steady GrinGrin
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
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