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Mission Impossible
When advancing through enemy territory, one had to keep absolute silence.
It seemed like a simple truth, but once you were actually dumped in the middle of the enemy territory, it became a truth of absolutely nightmarish proportions. People could die every day just because of coughing at the wrong moment. A shot in the dark and a nice epitaph – “here lies dear Johnny, died of hay fever and lead poisoning”.
The “nightmare” part was suite fitting, in fact – it was dead of the night and Susan just heard a creaking noise.
Her whole body froze immediately. She didn't dare to breathe and if there was a way to stop her heart from beating, she'd gladly do that. She wanted to look around, but she was pretty sure her eyeballs would make way too much noise. Her muscles tensed; they slowly relaxed as no new noises followed, but she kept standing still.
For a long while, nothing happened. This was definitely the worst; Susan would much prefer bright flashes of light, a cacophony of noises, anything but standing in the pitch black, trying to catch the faintest echo of the noise that could as well be a figment of her imagination, running wild due to lack of stimuli.
Finally, she got herself together and slowly raised her foot. No landmine went off, nothing creaked, clicked, clacked, or clinged. Breathing a sigh of relief, Susan moved forward. Yet again, enemy territory showed its mercy. She took a few careful, well-timed steps, listening to even tiniest change in the airflow. Her target was in close, she was pretty sure of that. In fact, it could even be in sight, if Susan was suddenly granted the ability to see in the dark.
She cursed under her breath. Not taking her night vision goggles was a mistake. It’s not like she forgot about them – it was simply the fact that any electronic device left within her reach would soon end up being lost, dropped into water, smashed beyond repair, or ran over by a car. The night vision goggles were no exception and the replacement still didn’t come, much to Susan’s dismay.
Goggles or not, duty still called. Moving along the wall, Susan inched closer to her target. As far as she recalled, this place was usually littered with deadly traps. That was why she went barefoot; not only it wasn’t as loud, she could also sense objects with her feet before standing on them and triggering a cascade of noises waking up everyone within a mile radius.
Well, in most cases.
With catlike tread, she rushed forward, eager to get to the target in one leap. However, before she managed to see it, her left foot hit something, exploding in pain.
“Aww, shit!” Susan howled, jumping on one leg and looking around. So much for stealth. She turned, ready to face the incoming army.
Nothing like that happened. Susan just thought that the guards must have been crazy, when she heard the click of a light switch and frantic footsteps.
“Susan, what the hell?” Amy, Susan’s roommate asked, turning on the kitchen light. She looked at Susan, who stood in the middle of the kitchen wearing tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt of some band she’d probably stopped listening at least ten years ago.
“I stubbed my toe,” Susan muttered, blushing. She groaned, resting her foot on one of the chairs and rubbing the toe in question. “Why do they always hurt so much?”
Amy crossed her arms. “You were going to raid the fridge again, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Susan smiled sheepishly.
“What about your diet?” Amy asked. “Not to mention that you always seem to steal my food. If you really like peanut butter and onion sandwiches that much, buy the goddamn peanut butter yourself!”
“Diet-schmiet,” Susan muttered. “I can always start tomorrow.” She looked at the clock. “Damn. It’s already tomorrow.”
“It is.” Amy smirked. “Also, tomorrow–“
“Today.”
“Today I’m gonna get some Lego bricks and put them on the floor,” Amy said. “Speaking of, congratulations on the creaky floorboard. I almost didn’t hear it.”
“Thanks,” Susan said. “I also avoided the upturned plug, you know.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Just go back to sleep…”
“Okay, okay.” Susan walked out of the kitchen, limping slightly. “And if I want some peanut butter, I’ll eat peanut butter, whether you like it or not!”
Amy groaned. “Oh, come on!”
It seemed like a simple truth, but once you were actually dumped in the middle of the enemy territory, it became a truth of absolutely nightmarish proportions. People could die every day just because of coughing at the wrong moment. A shot in the dark and a nice epitaph – “here lies dear Johnny, died of hay fever and lead poisoning”.
The “nightmare” part was suite fitting, in fact – it was dead of the night and Susan just heard a creaking noise.
Her whole body froze immediately. She didn't dare to breathe and if there was a way to stop her heart from beating, she'd gladly do that. She wanted to look around, but she was pretty sure her eyeballs would make way too much noise. Her muscles tensed; they slowly relaxed as no new noises followed, but she kept standing still.
For a long while, nothing happened. This was definitely the worst; Susan would much prefer bright flashes of light, a cacophony of noises, anything but standing in the pitch black, trying to catch the faintest echo of the noise that could as well be a figment of her imagination, running wild due to lack of stimuli.
Finally, she got herself together and slowly raised her foot. No landmine went off, nothing creaked, clicked, clacked, or clinged. Breathing a sigh of relief, Susan moved forward. Yet again, enemy territory showed its mercy. She took a few careful, well-timed steps, listening to even tiniest change in the airflow. Her target was in close, she was pretty sure of that. In fact, it could even be in sight, if Susan was suddenly granted the ability to see in the dark.
She cursed under her breath. Not taking her night vision goggles was a mistake. It’s not like she forgot about them – it was simply the fact that any electronic device left within her reach would soon end up being lost, dropped into water, smashed beyond repair, or ran over by a car. The night vision goggles were no exception and the replacement still didn’t come, much to Susan’s dismay.
Goggles or not, duty still called. Moving along the wall, Susan inched closer to her target. As far as she recalled, this place was usually littered with deadly traps. That was why she went barefoot; not only it wasn’t as loud, she could also sense objects with her feet before standing on them and triggering a cascade of noises waking up everyone within a mile radius.
Well, in most cases.
With catlike tread, she rushed forward, eager to get to the target in one leap. However, before she managed to see it, her left foot hit something, exploding in pain.
“Aww, shit!” Susan howled, jumping on one leg and looking around. So much for stealth. She turned, ready to face the incoming army.
Nothing like that happened. Susan just thought that the guards must have been crazy, when she heard the click of a light switch and frantic footsteps.
“Susan, what the hell?” Amy, Susan’s roommate asked, turning on the kitchen light. She looked at Susan, who stood in the middle of the kitchen wearing tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt of some band she’d probably stopped listening at least ten years ago.
“I stubbed my toe,” Susan muttered, blushing. She groaned, resting her foot on one of the chairs and rubbing the toe in question. “Why do they always hurt so much?”
Amy crossed her arms. “You were going to raid the fridge again, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Susan smiled sheepishly.
“What about your diet?” Amy asked. “Not to mention that you always seem to steal my food. If you really like peanut butter and onion sandwiches that much, buy the goddamn peanut butter yourself!”
“Diet-schmiet,” Susan muttered. “I can always start tomorrow.” She looked at the clock. “Damn. It’s already tomorrow.”
“It is.” Amy smirked. “Also, tomorrow–“
“Today.”
“Today I’m gonna get some Lego bricks and put them on the floor,” Amy said. “Speaking of, congratulations on the creaky floorboard. I almost didn’t hear it.”
“Thanks,” Susan said. “I also avoided the upturned plug, you know.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Just go back to sleep…”
“Okay, okay.” Susan walked out of the kitchen, limping slightly. “And if I want some peanut butter, I’ll eat peanut butter, whether you like it or not!”
Amy groaned. “Oh, come on!”
I feel like I've read this story dozens of times before. Usually with ponies.
I'm not trying to pick on this for being unoriginal or cliche, just that I always see these repeat the same mistakes.
The beginning establishes that there's some danger, and how the character is trying to survive, and that's decent enough. But when the "target" is ambiguous and not described, it immediately rings bells that this is trying to be a cute twist. In a "normal" story, the objective of the mission would probably already be clear. You need misdirection, and the story isn't going to fool me if I'm already focusing on the missing puzzle piece.
And the ending goes on way too long, where the characters just explain stuff they already know for the sake of the audience. It's not that hard to figure out after a few lines. And it's not much of a punchline because the audience understanding of the story hasn't really changed - Susan wants something while not being detected, but her life's not actually in danger now. She just has an overactive imagination, which is cute but not funny.
I'm not trying to pick on this for being unoriginal or cliche, just that I always see these repeat the same mistakes.
The beginning establishes that there's some danger, and how the character is trying to survive, and that's decent enough. But when the "target" is ambiguous and not described, it immediately rings bells that this is trying to be a cute twist. In a "normal" story, the objective of the mission would probably already be clear. You need misdirection, and the story isn't going to fool me if I'm already focusing on the missing puzzle piece.
And the ending goes on way too long, where the characters just explain stuff they already know for the sake of the audience. It's not that hard to figure out after a few lines. And it's not much of a punchline because the audience understanding of the story hasn't really changed - Susan wants something while not being detected, but her life's not actually in danger now. She just has an overactive imagination, which is cute but not funny.
Alternate Title: The Most Intense Midnight Snack in Human History
Okay, I'll say it right here, right now, so I don't forget: I kinda like this entry, in spite of its very noticeable flaws, which I'll get into in a second.
It's cute, which is refreshing. There are only a few entries this round that I'd describe as "cute," and Mission Impossible might be the only one that is cute in a platonic way, and not lovey-dovey. Not that I mind the latter, but in a contest round where literally half the entries involve wolves and/or romance shenanigans this is certainly different.
Susan and Amy are written well enough; they have more personality to each of them than certain other entry protagonists, and even though I'm not on a diet myself (if anything I need to eat a bit more) I relate to Susan's love of peanut butter.
But let's face it, you could replace these two with EqG characters and you wouldn't have to change anything else. Unless LEGO doesn't exist in that world.
There's also the matter of the prose, which upon revisiting is even shoddier than I originally thought. No, "suite" cannot be an adjective, the author just got the Q and S keys mixed up. There are also a lot of weird phrasing choices ("Dead of the night" instead of "The dead of night") that give me the slight impression that this was not written by a native English writer. It could be a certain elderly Frenchman, but I'll give the benefit of the doubt and assume not. The writing generally suffers from a lack of polish (says the guy who rarely edits his own reviews), which is disappointing.
Then there's the exposition dump at the end, which >>Haze already addressed in fine detail. I feel like the story got mixed up in its structure, or rather that it ends long after it should've and begins likewise. Susan getting caught and the context for her sneaking around should've been revealed in like the last paragraph.
This sounds like quite a bit of complaining, but I still enjoy this entry more than some of the most well-liked ones from this round, as weird as that might sound.
Okay, I'll say it right here, right now, so I don't forget: I kinda like this entry, in spite of its very noticeable flaws, which I'll get into in a second.
It's cute, which is refreshing. There are only a few entries this round that I'd describe as "cute," and Mission Impossible might be the only one that is cute in a platonic way, and not lovey-dovey. Not that I mind the latter, but in a contest round where literally half the entries involve wolves and/or romance shenanigans this is certainly different.
Susan and Amy are written well enough; they have more personality to each of them than certain other entry protagonists, and even though I'm not on a diet myself (if anything I need to eat a bit more) I relate to Susan's love of peanut butter.
But let's face it, you could replace these two with EqG characters and you wouldn't have to change anything else. Unless LEGO doesn't exist in that world.
There's also the matter of the prose, which upon revisiting is even shoddier than I originally thought. No, "suite" cannot be an adjective, the author just got the Q and S keys mixed up. There are also a lot of weird phrasing choices ("Dead of the night" instead of "The dead of night") that give me the slight impression that this was not written by a native English writer. It could be a certain elderly Frenchman, but I'll give the benefit of the doubt and assume not. The writing generally suffers from a lack of polish (says the guy who rarely edits his own reviews), which is disappointing.
Then there's the exposition dump at the end, which >>Haze already addressed in fine detail. I feel like the story got mixed up in its structure, or rather that it ends long after it should've and begins likewise. Susan getting caught and the context for her sneaking around should've been revealed in like the last paragraph.
This sounds like quite a bit of complaining, but I still enjoy this entry more than some of the most well-liked ones from this round, as weird as that might sound.
WITH CAT-LIKE TREAD
UPON OUR PREY WE STEAL
IN SILENCE DREAD
OUR CAUTIOUS WAY WE FEEL
NO SOUND AT ALL
WE NEVER SPEAK A WORD
A FLY’S FOOTFALL
WOULD BE DISTINCTLY HEARD
Hokay, sorry. I’m sorry, I just… I had to get that out of my system.
*ahem*
You had me fooled with the first half of this story, Writer. You did a good job of maintaining tension and having things feel high stakes, at least until she starts to go on about her night vision goggles. At that point I started to question why Susan, of all people, would be sent on this type of mission when it’s clear she can be a liability. Still, it’s true that you are never more aware of how much noise you make than when you’re trying really hard not to make any, and you conveyed this very well early on.
My main issue here is that Susan is fully aware that the ground between her and her target is littered with traps, and yet still bounds forward at the last minute to close the distance between them.
Why? Why is she suddenly so heedless of her surroundings when it’s clear past experience has taught her not to do this? Her nerves don’t seem to get the better of her, and there’s no time limit from what we’ve seen so far. She takes paragraphs to move a single footstep, then arbitrarily goes, “Ah, fuck it,” and bounds forward for no reason. If she had lost her footing from standing on one foot for so long, or something else to that effect, it would make more sense.
Also, I agree with >>Haze and >>No_Raisin on pretty much every point that they made - the end overstays its welcome, and Susan and Amy could be named Lyra and Bon Bon and I wouldn’t bat an eye.
All the same, this was a cute idea, and a nice, refreshing change of pace from most of the other stories I’ve read so far. Thanks, Writer!
Tarantara, tarantara~
UPON OUR PREY WE STEAL
IN SILENCE DREAD
OUR CAUTIOUS WAY WE FEEL
NO SOUND AT ALL
WE NEVER SPEAK A WORD
A FLY’S FOOTFALL
WOULD BE DISTINCTLY HEARD
Hokay, sorry. I’m sorry, I just… I had to get that out of my system.
*ahem*
You had me fooled with the first half of this story, Writer. You did a good job of maintaining tension and having things feel high stakes, at least until she starts to go on about her night vision goggles. At that point I started to question why Susan, of all people, would be sent on this type of mission when it’s clear she can be a liability. Still, it’s true that you are never more aware of how much noise you make than when you’re trying really hard not to make any, and you conveyed this very well early on.
My main issue here is that Susan is fully aware that the ground between her and her target is littered with traps, and yet still bounds forward at the last minute to close the distance between them.
she rushed forward, eager to get to the target in one leap.
Why? Why is she suddenly so heedless of her surroundings when it’s clear past experience has taught her not to do this? Her nerves don’t seem to get the better of her, and there’s no time limit from what we’ve seen so far. She takes paragraphs to move a single footstep, then arbitrarily goes, “Ah, fuck it,” and bounds forward for no reason. If she had lost her footing from standing on one foot for so long, or something else to that effect, it would make more sense.
Also, I agree with >>Haze and >>No_Raisin on pretty much every point that they made - the end overstays its welcome, and Susan and Amy could be named Lyra and Bon Bon and I wouldn’t bat an eye.
All the same, this was a cute idea, and a nice, refreshing change of pace from most of the other stories I’ve read so far. Thanks, Writer!
Tarantara, tarantara~