THEKYLEKURTZ'S PROFILE

Hey all! I started posting a story on here about 2 years ago, but had to stop due to unforeseen circumstances. I recently restarted the entire tale from scratch, and really hope anyone who has time enjoys it and lets me know what they think. I plan to edit this after it's complete, so any and all criticism would be appreciated, even if you find something terrible and let me know, I'll find a way to use it.

Thanks in advance!


Prologue: Just another day to die





Rain spilled down on the world from a deep blue sky, final rays of the setting sun choked out by the canopy of crying clouds. In the warmth of a diner he washed down the taste of his turkey and mashed potato dinner down with what was left of his coffee, grimacing as he wished he’d added at least another cup of creamer. Johnathan Dent looked out the window again at the world outside bustling despite the dirge coming down, and for a moment felt like it was always moving on without him.



He glanced down at the bill on the table and nodded, leaving an extra four dollars. He paused, recalling the waitress giving him a big smile as she came by to refill his coffee before for the third time and left an extra bill for her. For a moment he wondered if it was too much, but brushed the concern aside. There was nothing he wanted for himself anyway.



He pulled the collar of his dark blue coat up to cover his neck at the doorway, drawing a simple brimmed hat from under his arm and sliding it on a short cropped head of brown hair. Even though he wasn’t required to keep it so, he found the wavy locks cumbersome when it grew out. Johnathan Dent looked out at the street, watching cars slide by for a moment when two young women caught his attention.



At barely nine thirty they stumbled along the sidewalk laughing, clutching one another for support while holding thin purses over their heads in vain to block the rain. He’d shake his head, but there was a time when a young man that looked an awful lot like him was just as foolish. His small smile faded when one of the ladies’ heels snapped, young thing faltering out onto the road with a surprised yelp.



In an instant his hazel eyes took the entire world in, car less than five meters away skidding on the rain slicked road as the driver slammed the breaks down. The young woman rose to her feet, senses too dulled now to even realize the doom barreling her way. As the driver pressed the horn in John moved, across the road in less than a second to slam her aside with the force of his shoulder.



He locked eyes with the driver for just an instant before the two met. John’s knees gave in upon impact, body slamming against the hood as his skull let a spider web style fracture in the windshield stained with just a small spot of blood.



John Dent fell back onto the road, darkness already creeping across the edges of his vision as he stared blankly up at the dark blue sky. The pretty little thing appeared above him, her features blurring as he felt her tears on his face, one last hint of warmth as everything began to grow cold.



When he opened his eyes again, only darkness was waiting for him. He no longer felt cold, or pain or even the soft touch of warmth at his cheek. He’d been here before, in this limbo. But for some reason, he couldn’t really remember when. He briefly wondered if that blonde girl was okay, but then realized he couldn’t remember her face.



Or much of anything, for that matter.



---





Rebecca Black sat back in her chair, an ergonomic style seat she’s recently purchased for herself while slurping some ramen noodles from a cup. When an alarm sounded she lurched forward, swallowing as she caught her glasses before they slipped off. She pushed the framed up the bridge of her nose and swore aloud at the sight of Stroke’s vital signs flat lining.



She keyed in her password and activated Stroke Protocol Ninety-Six with a sigh. Somewhere deep within the Mausoleum, a hiss sounded as a coffin-shaped container slid off the wall and onto the conveyor belt. An automated system roared to life, heated air pumped in as electrical pulses raced through the body inside, diagnostic systems inside checking everything from his dimensions to muscle tension.



Without a pause her superior, General Magnus, burst into the room. He turned her way with ever present fury in his dark brown eyes and demanded, “Just what the hell happened, Miss Black?”



She brought up the video feed of that night and looped his last moments for the Soldier to see while explaining, “While out grabbing a bite to eat, Agent Stroke saw someone in trouble and decided he wanted to be a hero. He saved the girl, and that’s what he got for it.”



The general sighed with distaste, watching the event play itself out. He calmed, if only slightly and said, “I’ll have the geeks draft up a story and have some homeless guy who’s been missing a while be the patsy on this. Probably a veteran, no one will look twice.” She stared at him incredulously for a moment, to which the General demanded, “Do you have some sort of objection, Miss Black?”



She shook her head, noticing the revival phase was nearing completion. She quickly began typing away and let her superior know, “No sir. I’ll just wipe tonight’s events entirely and have him recall another scheduled check-up and we’ll go from there.”



With a curt nod, the imposing man turned on his heel and let himself out. She couldn’t help but let out a deep breath she’d been holding since he’d let himself in. The upload finished in seconds, Stroke’s mind accepting the implanted memories with a 98% success rate. She heard him in the shower now, John Dent emerging moments later while complaining, “Man Doc, that shower always leaves me feeling frozen to the bone. So how’s the prognosis, am I gonna make it?”



She stifled a small chuckle and looked away after turning to find him draped only in a towel. She quickly pulled her glasses off and began nervously wiping away at the lenses while letting him know, “Yes John, I think you will. Have a good night, Agent Stroke.”



He walked behind the curtain and quickly got dressed. On the way to the door he stopped and wondered, “Hey Doc, you got the time? Don’t know where I’m always losing my watch.”



She grimaced at the small oversight and glanced at her computer before replying, “Ten twenty. Why?”



John shrugged and let out a wistful sigh. On his way out the door he let her know, “Was gonna hit up my favorite diner. But eh, they’re closed for the night. I’ll just whip up a snack instead.”

Hey, I'm new here so I hope it's not too early for me to be posting work or anything. This is a story I completed before, and I'm in the process of editing it so any feedback would be appreciated. I can't stress enough how little I mind criticism.

Here is the first 2 chapters.

Chapter One: Hope




He moved without attracting even a glance, evanescent in the shadows splashed across the complex. His boots silently padded across the pavement, bringing him to the edge of an open door. A man took a single step out into the night, subsequently driven to the floor with a knife jammed down his trachea on the way.


Stroke looked up into the dimly lit hallway, knife pulled free from the man's spine with a bloody snap as he descended into the building. Each threat along the way fell before he had a chance to scream. One after another he left a trail of red cookie crumbs towards his target. Stroke shifted along the darkness, watching the last guard berate the trio of hostages, butt of his rifle roughly connecting with the jaw of one foolhardy enough to talk back.


The guard turned to the sound of a pistol cocking, silencer pushing against his forehead as Stroke sent a round tearing through the man's mind. He moved quickly, crimson blade slicing the binds at the prisoners hands. The youngest of them, a skinny blonde who couldn't be a day over twenty thanked him. Stroke stared down at her, blue eyes tinged with gray caught between pity and apprehension. His mouth opened, but he didn't say anything.



Red lights crashed throughout as alarms blared, warnings of an intruder rough on their ears. Stroke finally spoke, voice rough as he roared, “Run!” The four burst through the facility, Stroke only having to fire a few more rounds on the way. They dashed into the chilly night air, the three struggling to continue before the bridge ahead.


Stroke saw the lights at the end, recognizing the vehicles as he felt the first round hit. It easily pierced his vest, fifty caliber round exploding from his chest in a red spray across the pavement. The three stopped, staring uncertainly as he stumbled to a halt, blood frothing between his lips as he ordered them to keep running.


The blonde was the last to go, turning in time to miss another round hit. Stroke stumbled toward the edge, blood trickling free from him now as he struggled to stay on his feet. He turned to face the sniper, knowing somewhere on a rooftop he was lining up his sights. Between ragged gasps he smiled despite the agony, last bullet taking him off his feet.


His thin form flew off of the bridge, finally splashing into the inky water below. Even immersed in the cold, feeling his life flow free into the river Stroke continued to smile. He watched the blood and bubbles of his last breaths twist above.


And finally, he died.






Chapter Two: Immortal



“Activate Eighty Three.” The woman looked up from her monitor, thin rimmed glasses slipping from her soft blue eyes. She pushed them back up and asked, “What, why? The last already-” General Magnus stood over her, voice resonating if he wasn't already imposing enough,


“Dr. Andrews, that's an order. You can review his memories from last night some other time, but for now strike them from the record and recalculate his birth date ahead two months.”Dr. Andrews brushed aside a lock of blonde hair from her face, looking down at her hands before answering with another question,



“Do you think it's time we do another rewrite? He may become unstable if we keep using the same-”



“It'll be fine. That's my call. Now activate him, we don't have all day.” She nodded passively, biting her lip as she typed in several prompts, finally accessing the Stroke mainframe. With only another password the two looked up at the sound of hissing, cryogenic chamber in the vault moaning to life.


General Magnus stalked away from her desk, looking out the window at the rows of chambers, each fashioned like a coffin. One separated from the wall, gently landing on the track towards the two. Dr. Andrews adjusted the transmissions received from the last shell, prepping the download for the new body. She looked out at the still body being drawn from it's chamber with remorse, prepared to bring Stroke back to life.



The technicians took the body out of it's resting place and she began the download, wireless transceiver in the blank brain firing wave after wave of impulses. In only a few minutes, he was taken and propped up in the showers, still quivering as the steaming water blasted his cyanotic form.


The General watched for only a moment longer, ensuring the rebirth went well. Finally he turned to Dr. Andrews, smile plastered across his fading features as he said, “Looks like he'll come out just fine. Last couple ones have been doing very well. Good job.”



She only looked down at her hands again, feebly replying “Yeah.” From the showers Stroke emerged with a towel draped across his waist, complaining, “Don't you hate when you feel so cold after a shower? I don't get it.” Dr. Andrews faked a smile, replying weakly, “Maybe you should get some rest then.” Stroke nodded, intense features contorting as he rubbed his head and agreed,


“Yeah, my head's killing me. Night Doc, see you tomorrow.”