Post by scottenkainen on Oct 6, 2011 9:08:23 GMT -5
Others may cite other examples, but I feel my biggest weakness as a writer is, when I'm writing a story where I have to get characters from point A to point B, I tend to put too much distance between points and not realize how many pages that will require until I'm well into writing them.
Hence...I offer another deleted scene, this time a false start to 1970s FF #10. Reading #10, you can see how much of this breaking-in stuff I just skipped over.
It was a warm Sunday night on this lush, green island in Table Bay. Light flashed from the Minto Hill lighthouse over the bay, illuminating the crashing surf, the partly cloudy sky, and – if someone had happened to look in the right place at the right time – an oddly-shaped silhouette flying low over the water. Only when the shape came in close to the rocky shore would someone standing there have recognized it as Namor, the Sub-Mariner, carrying his teammate, Ben Grimm, known throughout the world as the Thing. Both men wore matching blue shorts and tank tops, the later with the familiar logo of the Fantastic Four on their chests.
“Lemme down here,” Ben said quietly.
“You know that’s not the plan,” Namor said, holding Ben below his spread-out arms.
“Yeah, well I’m sick of danglin’ here like a blasted marionette.”
“Shivering sailfish! Do you ever not complain?” Namor hissed.
“Yeah, I ain’t mentioned your fishy smell in weeks.”
Namor went to less trouble to carry Ben comfortably and gathered speed as they now flew deeper into the interior of the island. The rugged terrain rose rapidly and Namor inclined his flight path to match. Finally, over a rise, they were able to see the Robben Island Prison fall into sight. The prison was a huge, sprawling complex all contained within a thick stone wall. There were lights spaced out all along the top of the wall, as more as more bright light from the towers at each corner of the outer wall.
“You sure you don’t want to go in over the wall?” Namor asked as they continued at great speed without raising altitude.
“Naw, it might be harder gettin’ him out if we ain’t got a nice big exit. Now throw me hard!”
“With pleasure!” Namor said as he threw Ben underhanded like a softball. Ben tucked in and spun through the air. When he hit the prison wall, he crashed through it like a meteor strike.
Alarm sirens began to wail all around the prison complex. Namor went unnoticed at first, gliding silently into the prison complex, as Ben stood up and let all the guards get a good look at the ‘monster’ in their midst. Machine guns began pelting his thick hide with bullets without so much as a warning given first.
“Grrr! I’m a killer monster from outer space! The monster that walks like a man!” Ben roared, half-jokingly. To support his false threat, he gouged a huge slab of earth out of the ground in front of him and hoisted it over his head menacingly.
Doors opened in a nearby building and guards in heavy protective armor and carrying grenade launchers began to stream out into the courtyard. As distracted as they were by Ben’s show, Namor was able to swoop low, grab one by the arm, and fly up to the roof with his prisoner before anyone could even draw a bead on him. Ben, for his part, threw his slab of earth and stone onto the ground hard enough that it exploded into a shower of debris that blocked him from sight. By the time any of the guards could see Ben again, he was racing past them towards the wall of the same building they had just come out of and crashed through it.
While Ben kept the prison guards below running in circles, Namor held his prisoner off the ground with one outstretched hand. The guard, who had already dropped his grenade launcher, clutched with futility at Namor’s unmoving arm.
“Where is the Black Panther being held?” Namor demanded of his frightened prisoner.
Down below, inside, Ben kept the prison guards on the defensive, throwing furniture at them whenever they looked like they were about to fire or hurl grenades his way. He was not remotely worried about concussion grenades – and thought it highly unlikely they would be using incendiary grenades indoors – but was wary of being attacked with gas, knowing all-too well that he was vulnerable to that. After two minutes of making a mess out of the place and crashing through several interior walls to help keep moving, Ben stopped when the ceiling collapsed above him and Namor leaped down into the same room.
“Took ya’ long enough,” Ben said.
“I know to which building they took the Black Panther. If you’re done playing around with the guards…?”
Ben looked around Namor and saw two prison guards within eavesdropping distance of them, peaking from around corners. “Hey, I’m sorry, is Pointy-Ears here not speakin’ loud enough to give our plan away to ya?” he asked loud and sarcastically. As he spoke, he picked up a desk and threw it widthwise towards the doorway of the room. The wider desk took out part of the wall on either side of the door frame and the flying debris sent the guards diving further away for cover. “Okay, lead on, Wing-Feet.”
Hence...I offer another deleted scene, this time a false start to 1970s FF #10. Reading #10, you can see how much of this breaking-in stuff I just skipped over.
It was a warm Sunday night on this lush, green island in Table Bay. Light flashed from the Minto Hill lighthouse over the bay, illuminating the crashing surf, the partly cloudy sky, and – if someone had happened to look in the right place at the right time – an oddly-shaped silhouette flying low over the water. Only when the shape came in close to the rocky shore would someone standing there have recognized it as Namor, the Sub-Mariner, carrying his teammate, Ben Grimm, known throughout the world as the Thing. Both men wore matching blue shorts and tank tops, the later with the familiar logo of the Fantastic Four on their chests.
“Lemme down here,” Ben said quietly.
“You know that’s not the plan,” Namor said, holding Ben below his spread-out arms.
“Yeah, well I’m sick of danglin’ here like a blasted marionette.”
“Shivering sailfish! Do you ever not complain?” Namor hissed.
“Yeah, I ain’t mentioned your fishy smell in weeks.”
Namor went to less trouble to carry Ben comfortably and gathered speed as they now flew deeper into the interior of the island. The rugged terrain rose rapidly and Namor inclined his flight path to match. Finally, over a rise, they were able to see the Robben Island Prison fall into sight. The prison was a huge, sprawling complex all contained within a thick stone wall. There were lights spaced out all along the top of the wall, as more as more bright light from the towers at each corner of the outer wall.
“You sure you don’t want to go in over the wall?” Namor asked as they continued at great speed without raising altitude.
“Naw, it might be harder gettin’ him out if we ain’t got a nice big exit. Now throw me hard!”
“With pleasure!” Namor said as he threw Ben underhanded like a softball. Ben tucked in and spun through the air. When he hit the prison wall, he crashed through it like a meteor strike.
Alarm sirens began to wail all around the prison complex. Namor went unnoticed at first, gliding silently into the prison complex, as Ben stood up and let all the guards get a good look at the ‘monster’ in their midst. Machine guns began pelting his thick hide with bullets without so much as a warning given first.
“Grrr! I’m a killer monster from outer space! The monster that walks like a man!” Ben roared, half-jokingly. To support his false threat, he gouged a huge slab of earth out of the ground in front of him and hoisted it over his head menacingly.
Doors opened in a nearby building and guards in heavy protective armor and carrying grenade launchers began to stream out into the courtyard. As distracted as they were by Ben’s show, Namor was able to swoop low, grab one by the arm, and fly up to the roof with his prisoner before anyone could even draw a bead on him. Ben, for his part, threw his slab of earth and stone onto the ground hard enough that it exploded into a shower of debris that blocked him from sight. By the time any of the guards could see Ben again, he was racing past them towards the wall of the same building they had just come out of and crashed through it.
While Ben kept the prison guards below running in circles, Namor held his prisoner off the ground with one outstretched hand. The guard, who had already dropped his grenade launcher, clutched with futility at Namor’s unmoving arm.
“Where is the Black Panther being held?” Namor demanded of his frightened prisoner.
Down below, inside, Ben kept the prison guards on the defensive, throwing furniture at them whenever they looked like they were about to fire or hurl grenades his way. He was not remotely worried about concussion grenades – and thought it highly unlikely they would be using incendiary grenades indoors – but was wary of being attacked with gas, knowing all-too well that he was vulnerable to that. After two minutes of making a mess out of the place and crashing through several interior walls to help keep moving, Ben stopped when the ceiling collapsed above him and Namor leaped down into the same room.
“Took ya’ long enough,” Ben said.
“I know to which building they took the Black Panther. If you’re done playing around with the guards…?”
Ben looked around Namor and saw two prison guards within eavesdropping distance of them, peaking from around corners. “Hey, I’m sorry, is Pointy-Ears here not speakin’ loud enough to give our plan away to ya?” he asked loud and sarcastically. As he spoke, he picked up a desk and threw it widthwise towards the doorway of the room. The wider desk took out part of the wall on either side of the door frame and the flying debris sent the guards diving further away for cover. “Okay, lead on, Wing-Feet.”