# *Unfinished, with adult content* Die Fledermaus, part 1.



## Victor Anderson (Nov 26, 2014)

“The squeeze of a finger, the falling of a hammer, the striking of a firing pin, the ignition of a primer… Then a boom. Would you like to die in this way, wastrel?” Said the man, who was pressing a Boberg XR9 into the back of the sitting figure he was speaking to’s skull. The man with the gun dawned a long black coat, with a thick, tall collar that almost touched the sides of his head. He also wore a black GP-5 gas mask that concealed his face, but his long black hair spilled from it openings. “Who, who are you?! How did you get in here?!” The sitting man cowered, with his voice cracking as he spoke. He was in a grey suit, and had brown hair. Those were the only comprehensible features one could have made out in the dark room. “Hold your tongue, or answer my question, worm.” The masked man said, calmly, while pushing the small pistol farther into the back if the mans head. “Please! Stop! I dont want to die!” The suited man continued to cower. At this point, he had fallen out of his chair and was slouched against a wall. The masked man was now putting the pistol into the front of the man’s head, and was only inches in front of his face. The posh coward was crying, and whimpering like a dog who had just been kicked by a man in a steel toed boot. 


The masked man punched the suited man in the lower face, so hard his was cut by his tooth, and the masked man’s glove split the outer part of the lip. “Aaaaaaaaagh!” The suited man screamed in agony, like the child he was. He slouched further, to the extent that he was almost laying on the shag carpet. He was almost knocked out, as the punch propelled his head towards the wall. “Good. If you have no wish to die, than tell me: The attacks on America, Europe, South America, Australia.... What do you know?” The masked man asked, with a hushed, almost depressed voice. “I know what hand you played, I know not why, but I know you were involved. Millions dead, all so you could gain money, and power. You are responsible for the death of so many innocent, woman, children, the elderly… All to give yourself slightly more money than you already had. You are a cliche, so many have done what you have before, yet you went above. Sickening, you are so unoriginal, you try to make yourself better than those who you copy from.”
The masked man said, with his deep, vicious voice. “I dont know! I Dont know what you mean! Oh god, please let me go!” The concussed man yelled, tears were now streaming from his eyes like small rivers. His suit had been ruined by lip blood and the previously mentioned tears, and the fact that he had urinated himself when he was punched only made his suit’s condition that much worse. “Once more: The attacks, what do you know?” The masked man said, gripping the urine covered man by the throat, pinning him up off the ground and against the wall. “I… I… it was… authorized by a man named…” The man said, choking and fading in and out of consciousness. “ Wake up, scheiße augen!” The masked man yelled into the urine man’s ear.”
“The desk… a note.. there… look…” The suited man said pointing at the desk he was seated at a moment ago. The masked man walked towards it, allowing his full body to be engulfed by what little light was in the room. His full form was visible now, and so was the suited man’s. The masked man dragged him from rear of the room to desk, that is in the center. The masked man, using his free hand, picked up the letter, and used his teeth to open the envelope. He separated the actual text from the envelope, letting the small pouch drop to the floor. After a few moments of reading, the suited man screamed. “Bat! Bat! Oh my god, you’re the fucking bat! Die Fledermaus! Stay away, killer! No,No! Oh god!” He screamed, loud enough for who ever was outside the room to hear. He broke free from Die Fledermaus in the commotion, and slowly backed away from him. “Oh, you know who I am. How entertaining. I am indeed Die Fledermaus, but that matters not now, degenerate. Do you have a religion?” Die Fledermaus said, while pulling the XR9 to his side, instead of straight at the man’s forehead. “Oh… I’m catholic…” The suited man said, with an extremely grim expression. Die Fledermaus chuckled, but it, along with all his speech, was muffled by his mask. “A hypocritical papist, eh? Oh, how the cliches do continue to flow…” He pulled a knife, and thrusted towards the hypocrite. The double edged blade with a black rubber hilt slipped through the mans chest, and into his heart. A loud gasp was heard, as the man spit up a small cloud of blood that presumably was from his teeth and lip wounds. “Dog, you have served your purpose. I have what I need, and you have your rest. How I wish I could comment on how honourably you acted, how valiantly you fought, but no. You died like the sick dog you where, being put down by a larger beast.” Die Fledermaus said, looking over the corpse.


        He opened the window, and looked down 7 floors to a large courtyard below. He picked up the corpse, and slung it over his shoulder. It was a simple courtyard; full of trees with a fountain, benches around the pool at the foot of the fountain. Rather pastoral, a small forest sanctuary in the center of a massive monument to human progression. Die Fledermaus threw the bloodied body from the window, and it hit the ground with a loud thud. The ground around the corpse was drenched by the blood coming from its wounds, old and new alike, and slowly formed a puddle. Die Fledermaus could hear a single scream, from a woman, he presumed. With this, he realized the “Local Interference” would soon arrive, whether they brought their weapons or not would be be clear in time. Either way although, it did not matter. Die Fledermaus was already marching down the emergency stairs, and on the second floor. He had triggered multiple fire alarms as he went down, 4 to be exact - He did this in an attempt to create chaos, which would give him more time to escape, and would mean the employees and residents would have evacuated from the building.


        He walked into the front lobby, witch was - thankfully - empty. The ceiling sprinklers had been activated, and the entire building was soaked with cold water that smelled of mold and age.
He didn’t dare go through the front doors, as the police and firefighters both would be right outside in a matter of moments, so instead, he turned to the right and went through a small utility door. The door lead out of the white, modernist room with small touches of art deco style, to a concrete lined hall with low hanging lights and doors going off to who knows where. He sprinted to the other end of the hall, to a steel door marked by a small red sign above it that read “Exit”. When he approached it he heard a hearty “You there! Stop! Turn around slowly and put your hands on the back of your head!” coming from what he thought was a cop, or security guard. He complied, as he had planned to draw the small XR9 he used on the suited man from his cloak, and slowly spun around with his hands on his head. A small laugh was heard as he did so.


        “Haven't you ever heard of a silent alarm, connard? I thought you were Die Fledermaus, but I must be mistaken, as he would never do something so stupid” Said the man, in a thick (Almost stereotypical) french accent. He was dressed in an all black suit, black dress shirt, and a red tie. He had striking brown eyes, that matched his hair in their dark colour. His hair was short, and was done in a the same style an older banker would have his done. He held a small black fedora in his left hand, and held it over his chest the way one would do if they were bowing to a very highly respected officer. His legs were held tightly together, and he stood up with a small bow. “So, fool, are you really Die Fledermaus? Hell’s Reaper? Deadbolt’s Former Ace in The Hole? You fit the description, so tell me, are you?” He said, putting the hat back on his head, and pulling a small handgun from his jacket. “A frenchmen? I thought this reeked of body order. I am Die Fledermaus, and jokes aside: Who are you?” Die Fledermaus said, putting his arms back down to his sides, and behind his back. His mask shifted, as he tilted his head to the side in a condescending, sarcastic manner. “I am Achille, the Deadbolt’s new midnight assassin, and your end!” He yelled the last part, as he drew the handgun farther from his jacket, revealing a long vented barrel with a silencer affixed to the barrel, and pointed it towards Die Fledermaus as he ran towards him. “You do like your titles, don’t you?!” Die Fledermaus yelled, as he sidestepped Achille, and fired 2 shots at him. Achille dodged by pressing himself against the wall after Die Fledermaus sidestepped pass him. Achille regained his composure, jerked his pistol towards his attacker and shot. The bullet dug into Die Fledermaus’s coat, and he fell to ground face first. He laid still on his stomach, unmoving, and un-breathing. “Good god, was that it? That was Die Fledermaus, ended with a single .45 shot? I expected more, more than a single dodge, especially since you were a Deadbolt agent!” Sirens whirled, and he walked towards the same door Die Fledermaus walked to, and he went to open the door. As he did so, a deafening boom echoed through the small hall, and blood splattered the door.


        “Wha… What?” Achille stuttered, falling to his knees. “So arrogant. You are an idiot, a time waster. You talk as if you are so skilled, as if you know everything, but you didn’t even know that I do not wear my coat because it makes me look good - I wear it because it’s bulletproof. Auf Wiedersehen, you waste of flesh.” Die Fledermaus said, firing a second round into Achille's back. The 9MM round ripped through his spine, and through his heart. It exited is front, in a massive cloud of red mist and liquid. He fell forward with the force, hitting his head on the door, and then falling backwards onto the floor. Blood poured from his mouth and nose, as well as tears from his eyes.


        Die Fledermaus stood, and walked to the corpse. “No time to dispose of you, or make this like a suicide - it would be very difficult anyways… Perhaps you have something interesting on you?” He said bending over the body. He searched through his jacket, and found only a few .45 caliber loaded magazines with numbers on the side that signified bullet count, and a wallet. He looked through the wallet, and found nothing other than 50 or so $100 US bills, which equaled $5000 - trivial for a former contract killer and former member of The Deadbolt Organization. “Hmmm… I can put this to good use, but now I must leave.” He said, walking through the door, while police and fire men ran into the building through the front.

I hope you enjoyed what I have done so far, this piece is not finished, and I just want to see what you guys think. Thank you for your time.


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## hvysmker (Nov 29, 2014)

The man with the gun dawned a long black coat, with a thick, tall collar that almost touched the sides of his head. 
*** donned. Also, "wore" would be better because "donned" is a action, implying he was in the process of donning it at the tim.

He also wore a black GP-5 gas mask that concealed his face, but his long black hair spilled from it openings.
*** "it" is wrong. Maybe "small openings"? At least, "its".

He was in a grey suit, and had brown hair. 
*** Lose that comma.

“Hold your tongue, or answer my question, worm.” 
*** *'d lose the first or both of those commas?

“Please! Stop! I dont want to die!” 
*** Too many exclamation marks for me.

At this point, he had fallen out of his chair and was slouched against a wall. 
*** that point. "this" is present tense.

The masked man was now putting the pistol into the front of the man’s head, and was only inches in front of his face. 
*** Two "front"s close together. Maybe, "...into the front of the man's head, only inches from his face."?

The posh coward was crying, and whimpering like a dog who had just been kicked by a man in a steel toed boot.
*** steel-toed  One way to tell if you need a hyphen is to try all he adjectives against the subject. If any of them make no sense, use a hyphen,  In this case:
steel boot?  Possible, but a bad image. Kinda heavy to wear.
toed boot?   Well, again, I've yet to see one. Is it like a glove for the feet?
steel-toed? Yeppers.

    The masked man punched the suited man in the lower face, so hard his was cut by his tooth, and the masked man’s glove split the outer part of the lip. 
*** I'm mixed up as to who is who? It sounds like the puncher was cut by a tooth? "....so hard the victim's lip was cut by his own loose tooth."?

He slouched further, to the extent that he was almost laying on the shag carpet. 
*** "farther" is used for distance.

He was almost knocked out, as the punch propelled his head towards the wall. “Good. If you have no wish to die, than tell me: The attacks on America, Europe, South America, Australia.... What do you know?” 
*** Uhhhh!  All those places. This is a bad, bad boy.

The masked man asked, with a hushed, almost depressed voice. “I know what hand you played, 
*** comma after "voice"

I know not why, but I know you were involved. Millions dead, all so you could gain money, and power. 
*** Georgie W.?  Is that you? He-he.

    The masked man said, with his deep, vicious voice. “I dont know! I Dont know what you mean! Oh god, please let me go!” 
*** Again, too many exclamations. They should be used sparingly, maybe one per page, at the most.

his suit’s condition that much worse. “Once more: The attacks, what do you know?” 
*** New paragraph after "worse."  The subject changes from one person to the other.

    “The desk… a note.. there… look…” The suited man said pointing at the desk he was seated at 
*** "....look...," leading into a speech tag.

The masked man dragged him from rear of the room to desk, that is in the center. 
*** ....room to a desk in the center. ?

The masked man, using his free hand, picked up the letter, and used his teeth to open the envelope.
*** I'd lose the comma after "letter"?

and slowly backed away from him. “Oh, you know who I am. How entertaining.
*** Paragraph break after "away from him."  Again, change in subject.

straight at the man’s forehead. “Oh… I’m catholic…” 
*** New paragraph after "forehead."

He pulled a knife, and thrusted towards the hypocrite. 
*** Lose that comma.

The double edged blade with a black rubber hilt slipped through the mans chest
*** double-edged.

A loud gasp was heard, as the man spit up a small cloud of blood that presumably was from his teeth and lip wounds. 
*** Not necessarily. If a lung wound and the victim expelled his breath, it could already contain blood.

    He opened the window, and looked down 7 floors to a large courtyard below. 
*** I'd spell the "seven"?

He picked up the corpse, and slung it over his shoulder. It was a simple courtyard; full of trees with a fountain, benches around the pool at the foot of the fountain. Rather pastoral, a small forest sanctuary in the center of a massive monument to human progression. Die Fledermaus threw the bloodied body from the window, and it hit the ground with a loud thud. 
*** I wouldn't use commas before those "and"s? I see no reason to pause at those points.

He did this in an attempt to create chaos, which would give him more time to escape, and would mean the employees and residents would have evacuated from the building.
*** Smart guy for a  bat.

The door lead out of the white, modernist room with small touches of art deco style, to a concrete lined hall with low hanging lights and doors going off to who knows where. 
*** concrete-lined, low-hanging

“You there! Stop! Turn around slowly and put your hands on the back of your head!” 
*** Again with the exclamations. Too many of them brands you as a rank amateur. Notice, while reading the works of others, that you never ever seem to see many of them. Personally, if I can't imagine someone saying it when they hit their thumb with a hammer, I don't use one of those little buggers. In other words, one to three words  at most. "Owww!" "Son-a-bit!", never "Oh, boy, I hit my blasted thumb!"

He was dressed in an all black suit, black dress shirt, and a red tie. 
*** all-black

He said, putting the hat back on his head, and pulling a small handgun from his jacket. “A frenchmen? I thought this reeked of body order.
*** New paragraph after "jacket"

“You do like your titles, don’t you?!” Die Fledermaus yelled, as he sidestepped Achille, and fired 2 shots at him. 
*** Why are they yelling at each other? Doesn't sound right. I'd spell out the "two"?

Achille dodged by pressing himself against the wall after Die Fledermaus sidestepped pass him.
*** past him.

 The 9MM round ripped through his spine, and through his heart.
*** 9mm ?
 It exited is front, in a massive cloud of red mist and liquid. 
*** in front

Good story with a lot of action, Victor.  I noted several failings, though. One was using a comma before "and"s.  Another is that you have to learn  when to use hyphens.  Also, you need to lose most of those exclamation points.  The wording on some of your sentences can be improved by reading it to yourself and noting somewhat stilted language.  Except for that, it reads well.

Charlie


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## Victor Anderson (Nov 30, 2014)

Christ. Thanks man, I really appreciate the time you put into this. I'll make the changes the nest time I work in it!


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## Victor Anderson (Nov 30, 2014)

Going on from my last post (I have now read it all), I would like to defend myself in a few places. Every last point you made was lovely, but certain things (Like 9MM, and the apparently concrete coated lights) were simply things that I need to add more detail to, and weren't actually grammar mistakes. 9MM, for instance, refers to the 9x19MM Parabellum pistol cartridge, or simply a small bullet. Continuing, I will make an excuse and say, "I do not know English well, and almost everything I know about the language I have learned myself, or by 2 English speaking friends, not to mention I'm weaning myself off my normal writing form." Actually, half the reason I signed up for this forum is because I want people to critique my work, so I can learn English better.

PS: So, how'd you figure out Die Fledermaus meant the bat? Google translate, or do you speak Deutsch? xD


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## hvysmker (Nov 30, 2014)

I learned a little of a lot of languages while in the US army, including four or five years in Germany.  Unfortunately, over the years I've forgotten most of it.  Except for basic training and Vietnam, I made a point of living on the economy, among natives.  An excellent way to learn a language, except that I, personally, forget just as quickly.

If you notice, I probably put a question mark after the 9mm. I can't say for certain that capitals are wrong, only that I don't remember them used before.

I believe writing in English will help you in learning the language. I have a friend who's an English teacher in Serbia.  We communicate every day in English and have for maybe five years now. I've noticed a vast improvement in her writing, though when using Skype, she often mispronounces. 

Charlie


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## Victor Anderson (Nov 30, 2014)

Interesting, I've noticed how diverse this forum is. You can find people with all manor of backgrounds.

OK, sorry - also, now that I know you're a veteran, I kinda fell bad for talking down to you about ballistics xD

Its helped me a fair bit, so far.


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## hvysmker (Nov 30, 2014)

S'Okay, Victor.  I very often make a huge matter of a writer using such words as "gun" and "bullets" when I feel they should at least Google for specific firearms. What really ticks me off is someone writing "I put bullets in the gun." when they're writing a police or war story.  Any cop or soldier knows the differences between bullets and cartridges. A war story may be interesting as hell until I read that phrase. After that, I stop reading. Most likely, any hunter would do the same.  Something small like that will ruin a story.

Charlie


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## Victor Anderson (Nov 30, 2014)

Oh, and I just realized I also called him "The Bat" out right, using the suite man... lol

- - - Updated - - -

Agreed... I've always felt like I should be very specific about guns and cartridges in my stories, I'm glad someone else shares that opinion.


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## hvysmker (Nov 30, 2014)

It never hurts and even if a writer isn't familiar with firearms, a quick Google will tell them all they need to know. "Small pistol 9mm" for example, will bring up dozens of choices. It adds a lot of authenticity to the story.

Of course, your character might not be so familiar. To her or him it's just a gun, a big one or little one.

Charlie


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## Victor Anderson (Nov 30, 2014)

Hey, Charlie, do you think I should post a back story article to go along with this? I have one already done up, and the story doesn't really talk about the events before the story started much...? A quick question, as well, is this forum more for getting critiqued, or for sharing your writings? I ask this because the last forum I was part of really only cared about critiquing, and most people there didn't actually care for literature.


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## hvysmker (Nov 30, 2014)

Since it's "Part One" I assumed this WAS the backstory, he-he. You're writing it, but I'd assume the story, beginning to end, will come out eventually.  It's hard to judge with only a limited section of a story.  A few writing sites allow entire novelettes to be read in one posting.  

I've only been here a little shy of three months, but have found 2 - 3,000 words get the best response. Less that that get even more of a response.  I've noticed my Oscar Rat stories get around 200 or so in a couple of days, but that might be people liking the character.  I haven't been around long enough to really judge.

As for critiques, I'm not certain, either. Since members here seem to avoid simple comments on stories like in some groups, I have to  go by the "hits" which can be iffy.  Since mine have few errors, mostly due to endless editing, I get few critiques while newer members, those not as experienced seem to get one good crit and then comments.

I've belonged to many sites and they each have their pros and cons. I'm not going to name them, but you simply have to find one or two that suit you.  There's  a good one that encourages critiquing, not even accepting comments of less than 300 words. The problem there is that it takes weeks between submitting and  your story  being up for critique.  I prefer an almost instant response.  At the very least, posting here will give you a name among amateurs, a chance to showcase and improve your writing.  As I'm certain you hear constantly, to write fiction requires a hard shell.  I haven't seen any "trolls" here, but sometimes a critique or comment can be harsh.  You have to learn to live with it and accept what help is offered.

I have another recourse if they become too harsh. I've a good rapport with Don Meesio of the mouse mafia.  I can have a dozen hardened mice at someone's home, all brandishing tiny machine guns, putting thousands of pinholes in their furniture.

Charlie


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## Victor Anderson (Nov 30, 2014)

I... was not expecting that last part XD


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