Theplahunter Posted May 5, 2015 Share Posted May 5, 2015 Guten Tag, 'allo, hi. I have started my first novel, 'A french mans dream.' a story that follows Jacob-Louise Franco, a 48 year man in Dystopian France in 2056 during the 2nd Democrat-Federalist civil war. Jacob is a Detective, but not the normal type of detective. Due to the first Democrat-Federalist war after the 5th German Reich came to power (The fourth collapsed after trying to fight the Afrikan Confederation (now the Afrikan Empire)) the detectives that just were investigators for the standard french police. They became a Military agency, the most elite of the Gendarmerie who have the option to buy their own weapons and perform side cases for police, civilians, and the government. The number of the detectives is 3,532. 1000 deployed in Paris due to the split in the city between New Paris, filled with Aristocrats and rich Nobles, outer Paris, filled with the middle class who live in peaceful ignorance, and Old Paris. Site of the First Eiffel tower and home to the Poor gutter trash, set with no say in government. Please ask questions, give comments, criticism. THE CURRENT MAP (Will be changed.) P.S: the map is so big right now it requires a URL, and some parts of it are cut off. Eventually it'll be revised with the full map i've been kindly provided with, thank you Ejundersc0re http://i.imgur.com/MvEqVjc.gif] NOTE: THIS IS A -VERY- ROUGH DRAFT, IT WILL BE EDITED AND CORRECTED DOWN THE LINE. FOR NOW ITS THE BASICS, ENJOY. CURRENT STORY (Will be continued on.) Chapter onePeaceful skies “The bustling city of Paris…” Jacob-Louise muttered “Still a massive shithole.” the man got up from his cushy office chair, walking to the window and looking down into the town square, packed with aristocrats and merchants. In the distance, the eiffel tower was perfectly accented by the setting, orange sun. He looked back over to his desk and silently read his name plaque out to himself “Senior detective Jacob-Louise Franco…” He walked over to the calendar and checked the date: 5/1/2067 Three quick knocks upon Jacob-Louises office door was heard, and he walked over quickly and swung open the door to see two Gendarmerie officers, armed with M5 carbines and wearing thick kevlar vests with dark black gasmasks “Detective Franco.” the first man stated in a synthetic voice “We need you to come with us immediately, Democrat terrorists are holding out in South Grotto.” Jacob sighed and reached over to the wall, sliding on his armor vest and picking up His Manurhin MR-73, a three inch barrel, Nickel plated, rubber grip .32 revolver. The Gendarmerie escorted the detective to the grotto, a line of sandbags and other officers with SG 522 carbines. Three officers cautiously hopped over the line, advancing forward slightly across the line. The RAT-TAT-TAT of a Vickers machine gun sounded, opening fire from an apartment window. The officers were cut down like grass as their armor was torn to shreds. Other men returned fire quickly, a humvees M2 browning machine gun tearing up the wall. The gun fell from the window and clattered onto the hard concrete sidewalk, closely followed by a dead rebel. Louise stared at the body and gun, being approached by a man in a navy blue police uniform “Bonjour, Louise!” the man greeted him warmly. Franco nodded and smiled, shaking the man's hand “Bonjour, capitaine Duvale.” He replied. Five other officers behind the Captain started firing again, engaging a Democrat fireteam. They held stolen reserve weapons and took cover anywhere they could, waiting to return fire. One of the soldiers popped out of cover in his black leather bomber jacket, his face covered with a bandana. He fired his Vz. 58 back, spraying it from the hip and screaming. One of the bullets caught one of the men in the head and killed him instantly, his forehead opened up and sprayed blood and bone fragments everywhere. A Royalist sniper raised his FR. F2 sniper rifle from the rooftops and fired, shooting the rebel in the leg. It flew in an arc, kicking the man flat on his back in shock. Another one of the rebels popped out, wearing an old kings marine uniform. He ran across the sheet and fired away with his Walther P38, grabbing the younger man and dragging him around a corner out of the line of fire. The standoff continued and a pearl white Buick ‘57 pulled up. Out stepped four additional detectives, carrying a variety of weapons. One of the detectives with a Winchester M1912 approached Duvale, saluting “Capitane, Detective Geed, Valeria, Jenner, and Maxwell. Reporting for duty.” Detective Geed stated. The captain raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat, rubbing his chin “I didn’t call for additional detectives, only Detective Franco.” Duvale said. Two Gendarmerie officers walked up, wearing senior uniforms “We called them, captain.” the first one said “DFI orders.” The Officer held up the orders, directly from the Directorate of Federal Intelligence. The captain scoffed and muttered “Fucking Federal assholes…” The three other detectives walked over and silently waited for orders, while Franco shook his head and loaded his MR73. Duvale started his briefing “Alright, Fr- You five… You’ll be moving under .50 cal fire into the grotto and weakening the defenses until the Gendarmerie can push in…” He pointed down the road where the standoff continued. The marine popped out from behind a brick wall and popped off three shots from his sidearm, having another rebel run forward, the rebel was quite thin and short, wearing A hoodie with a Kevlar vest over it and a FAC-20 gasmask. He slid down behind some makeshift sandbags and popped up, shooting off his Ithaca 37. Detective maxwell raised his FAMAS and fired off a quick burst, catching the attacker in the chest and killing him instantly with a stunning geyser of blood. The remaining rebel ran off, dropping his Vz. 58 in the middle of the street. The marine ran in the other direction, leaving the fate of the wounded man unknown. Louise sighed and walked over, jumping across the line and walking over. An officer called out “Where are you going!?” but he did not respond. He walked around the corner and saw the dying teenager, holding a CZ-75 in his hand. The young man raised his pistol, but his hands shook and he dropped the pistol. He pleaded in french, sobbing and gasping “Please, sir! Have mercy on me!” he cried out in pain and tried to crawl backwards, leaving a trail of blood on the concrete. Franco raised his revolver, cocking it and closing his eyes. He took in a deep breath and put pressure slowly on the trigger, putting a bullet into the boys eye. He died instantly, his suffering ended. The other detectives came over and stared, Maxwell shook his head and grunted “Fuckin’ kids.” Jacob-Louise shook his head and ejected the .38 shell, shoving a new one in. One of the other detectives walked over and picked up the Vz. 58, slinging his SG 550. He examined it closely and muttered “Hm…” he looked up and called out to the detectives “Hey, guys! this things stamped!” the others walked over and looked closely at the markings: Yugoslav republic union produced. Quote Link to comment
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