A review of Indigo's "Thirteen"
from Mitai the Critic
Spoilers ahead . . . warning . . .
Danger, Will Robinson!Ê Mitai the Critic has been detected!Ê Danger, danger!
Enough danger.
WHAT is this?!?!?! ::gestures at the mass of manuscript on her desk::Ê You thought I was gone, eh?Ê Thought you could escape Mitai the Critic, after all my warnings that I'd get around to _you_ someday?!?!Ê Think you can hide behind your classic fics and not be picked apart bit by little bit by ME?!?! ÊÊ::glares menacingly at the surprisingly calm-looking Writer in the brown leather chair::Ê We'll SEE about that!
>En Sabah Nur, ancient, wizened, and yet young, woke from a dreamless sleep, and had to slam his eyes shut again against the luminous crimson beams that burst forth from his corneas.ÊÊ Swearing under his breath in ancient tongues long forgotten, he concentrated, seeking to commune with that power he had for millennia commanded -- to place his body back under his command...to arrange the cells in the manner that he would have them.
>But ...nothing... happened.
What's this?!?!Ê You think that displaying your command of language and vocabulary gives you the right to start a story that way?!?!Ê Hmm?!
>Nur concentrated until he imagined he could feel tiny capillaries bursting behind his eyes and in his forebrain.Ê But nothing happened.
>He muttered under his breath that Summers was *gone* and that there was no possible way he could be thwarting Apocalypse's design ö that controlling the optic blasts was simply a matter of exerting his strength over his own will and body.
And what's this??Ê You think that by differentiating between Nur and Apocalypse you can give depth to a character that Marvel has seen fit to make as one-dimensional and simple as possible?!
>En Sabah Nur refused to admitÊ that his hands were shaking.
You've taken it upon yourself to HUMANIZE Apocalypse, have you?! ::glares over the manuscript at the faintly smirking Writer before continuing Êthunderously, accompanied by a small and very weary-looking dark grey thundercloud that obediently threw a pathetic looking yellow streak of lightning halfheartedly at the Writer.Ê The static was not enough to create foomf::
>~Space? No mutants are hanging out in space. Even Magneto's on earth, these days, ruling Genosha.Ê Who has a space program? Lowly little humans.~
>Apocalypse's own resources were no longer concentrated on anything beyond the planet.ÊÊ It was hard for him to think.Ê The constant readjustments of his body were distracting, painful.Ê He had endured pain before, and he would triumph over this tribulation as well.ÊÊ It was inevitable.Ê If it was a cosmic event, it was as simple as waiting out the alignment of the planets.
>~And what if it's something of man's design, Nur? What then?~
And THIS!Ê Giving little itty bitty hints about the voice, but keeping it so obscure as to not actually TELL the reader whether it was really Scott or not! ::growls furiously::Ê Just who do you think you are, being all coy and careful like that, teasing your readers?Ê Maybe your readers don't WANT to be teased, hmm??Ê Ever think of that, didja, didja??
>"Then they are WEAK and should DIE with the chattel as BEFITS theirÊ WEAKNESS!"Ê Nur bellowed, whirling, as if the thought had come from outside him.ÊÊ His gauntleted fist smashed a hole in the stone wall beside him.
>~Are you *really* of the strong, En Sabah Nur?~
>"I am APOCALYPSE!"Ê His amplified voice rumbled up and down the corridors of his sanctum.Ê "ONLY THE STRONG SHALL SURVIVE!"
::glares even more menacingly::Ê And here you only REINFORCE the concepts you've oulined by the first two pages of the story!Ê What game do you think you're playing, by showing such carefully sculpted emotions this way?!!?
>He spent his days eating and drinking to keep the strength of his merely human body up.Ê Nights, when it was cool, he would go out and take long runs across the desert floor, suffering the scouring touch of windblown sand.Ê "If I must be human, I will still be the strongest there is."Ê The pale eye of the moon watched his exertions, silent and unjudgemental, but the voice of dissentionÊ in his head grew stronger.
And this! ::waves the papers loudly::Ê Use of imagery!Ê Running in the desert, it could mean so many things!Ê How do you know no one will read anything into this?Ê Hmm!?!Ê Where do you get off writing this fic so well, hmm? ::continues with an even more stormy look::
>The thought rankled and filled his mouth with bitter bile, but he knew the reasonable voice that usually plagued his thoughts was right.Ê The pyramid was riddled with escape tunnels and secret passages -- that Ozymandias and his other thralls could come and go in secret without disturbing him.Ê Now, though, they were his only hope of escaping death.
>He held his breath, waiting for Sinister to slacken his grip, cursing himself inwardly for the hubris that only allowed him to manipulate his machinery as the giant.
I mean, look at this!Ê ::gets out Red Pen of Death::Ê You've got him experiencing emotion, fear, having to face combat as a human, recognizing his pride as a fault!Ê A FAULT!Ê It's a wonder he hasn't had a nervous breakdown yet! ::keeps reading despite herself, and the thundercloud looks less dense::
>At the pit of his stomach he felt queasy, but the strong do not throw up at the sight of blood and entrails.
HAH!Ê ::stifles that laugh quickly, glares twice as meanly to cover up the lapse in Critic-ness, and continues with a renewed but less formidable evil look::
>The passage leading to his supplies was already blocked off by nanites and poisonous creatures.Ê His helmet was the only part of his armor he could reach, so he dove for it, donned it, and bolted with his bedsheets and a pair of pants -- all he could grab before Sinister's final solution encroached on him entirely.
::snickers at the thought of Nur being embarassed about having been caught with his pants down before remembering herself and steeling her expression once more::Ê Hmmph.Ê Oh, so you think he'd be worried about pants, hmm??Ê
What is this, fear of exposure, or are you hinting he doesn't think his new body's up to par, hmm??Ê Insulting Scott, are we?Ê ::makes a big mark in red pen and looks vaguely satisfied and very curious, and keeps going::
>Then he settled down in his little lean-to and made himself as comfortable as possible.Ê It would be a long trip back to civilization, and Êa long story to tell his friends and family.
>He needed to conserve his strength.
Oh, and you HAD to throw that last line in as a jibe, hmm??Ê ::throws the Êmanuscript at the Writer and towers over her::Ê Do you how LONG it's been Êsince I've had a fic like . . . like . . . like THAT in my mailbox?!?Ê A long time!Ê And do you know WHY, Indigo?Ê Do you?
Because you haven't been writing nearly enough lately. =)
This was just superb!Ê Nice vocab, lovely flow, the imagery wasn't necessarily unique, but presented in a way that made it seem . . . different.Ê Subtely different enough that I actually took notice of it all.Ê Your fight scene was easy to follow, graphic without falling prey to the dry quality so many writers revert to when trying to clearly depict action.Ê Your dialogue was wonderful, both inner and outer, and your wordplay on Nur and Poccy and strength itself was refreshing and rather tastefully done.Ê You didn't beat me over the head with it, but you certainly made me notice it.
I really do like the way you've portrayed Apocalypse, here.Ê Even five thousand years old and changed by machinery, he hasn't lost the basic human emotions that we carry with us.Ê Too many, Marvel included, portray him as the fanatic but emotionless and accepting of both defeat and victory, and don't realize the two contradict one another.Ê Here we have a man who is not tired of life, neither apathetic nor unmoved by his struggles, and that hints that even in the armor, he is still aware that he is human, and he has faults, or he wouldn't have shown such intelligence in that position.
Scott was a nice touch, too. =)Ê That's my boy.
Thank you for the best read I've had in ages.Ê You took a difficult concept and you made me believe it lock, stock, and barrel.ÊÊ A previous fic somewhere along these lines hit the list immediately after the issue was released, but this . . . this went well above and beyond that, and it's something I like to see.Ê Similair concepts handled by different authors.
And you handled it beautifully.Ê Bravo, and thank you.
::the Critic takes the Writer out to dinner::
=)
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