README.md

---
license: apache-2.0
language:
- en
tags:
- creative
- creative writing
- fiction writing
- plot generation
- sub-plot generation
- fiction writing
- story generation
- scene continue
- storytelling
- fiction story
- science fiction
- romance
- all genres
- story
- writing
- vivid prosing
- vivid writing
- fiction
- roleplaying
- bfloat16
- swearing
- rp
- horror
- mistral nemo
- mergekit
- not-for-all-audiences
pipeline_tag: text-generation
---

<B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. DARKNESS. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. </B>

<h2>MN-GRAND-Gutenberg-Lyra4-Lyra-12B-DARKNESS-GGUF</h2>

<img src="gutenburg-dark.jpg" style="float:right; width:300px; height:300px; padding:10px;">

This is a Mistral Nemo model, max context of 128k+ (131,000+). 

It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity.

This is the all parameters / all use cases version.

This model has outstanding story telling abilities, prose and long form coherence and is comprised of THREE "Gutenburg" models that score
very high at multiple websites including EQBench and UGI-Leaderboard.

And a very broad operating range in both temp (.5 to 5) and rep pen (1 and higher).

And the prose/output is very "non AI" like. 

(example prompts/outputs at q4km and q8 below)

This is the compressed and super stable version of "MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23B-V2" (and V1).

This model has been compressed from the 23.45B and 23B versions to 12.15B. This model captures all the uniqueness of the three "Gutenbergs" as well as the power
of other top models (part of the "Gutenburgs") from "TheDrummer" and "SAO10k".

The model loves to go on and on at 2k, 3k, higher outputs on a single prompt are not uncommon. It will likely "overwrite" rather
than underwrite - meaning far more detail, narration, dialog and "meat" in the output so to speak.

<B>First Version, and Second Versions - LARGE and other 12B(s):</b>

V1 is the untamed, raw version (23.45B) which can be a bit unruly but still endlessly entertaining.

[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23.5B-GGUF ] 

V2 is a wee bit more tamed (23B), with much larger temp / rep pen ranges :

[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23B-V2-GGUF ]

MADNESS - 12B:

[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/MN-GRAND-Gutenberg-Lyra4-Lyra-12B-MADNESS-GGUF ]

Example outputs at each repo above. 

Larger versions (vs 12B) have greater detail, prose depth and sense of "there" / "in the moment". Their instruction
following is also stronger too. However they also have a lot of "character" which may or may not be for your use case(s).

<B>Model Notes:</B>

- Detail, prose and fiction writing abilities are significantly increased.
- For more varied prose (sentence/paragraph/dialog) raise the temp and/or add more instructions in your prompt(s).
- Role-players: Careful raising temp too high as it may affect instruction following. Also see special Chatml Template and notes.
- This model works with rep pen of 1.02 or higher, 1.05+ recommended.
- For roleplay and/or chat you may need to raise the RP to 1.06 to 1.1, temp .5 to 1.5 (quant Q4KM and higher). Lower temp for lower quants and RAISE rep pen to 1.1.
- If you want a specific type of prose (IE horror) add in "(vivid horror)" or "(graphic vivid horror)" (no quotes) in your prompt(s).
- This is not a "happy ever after" model. It has a negative bias.
- Output length will vary however this model prefers LONGER outputs unless you state the size / set size limits.
- For creative uses, different quants will produce slightly different output.

<B>TEMPLATES:</B>

The template used will affect output generation and instruction following. Alpaca will generally create longer output / story output.

Chatml ML and Mistral Instruct can also be used.

For roleplayers, see special notes with "Chatml" template below.

Alpaca:

<pre>
{
  "name": "Alpaca",
  "inference_params": {
    "input_prefix": "### Instruction:",
    "input_suffix": "### Response:",
    "antiprompt": [
      "### Instruction:"
    ],
    "pre_prompt": "Below is an instruction that describes a task. Write a response that appropriately completes the request.\n\n"
  }
}  
</pre>

Mistral Instruct:

<pre>
{
  "name": "Mistral Instruct",
  "inference_params": {
    "input_prefix": "[INST]",
    "input_suffix": "[/INST]",
    "antiprompt": [
      "[INST]"
    ],
    "pre_prompt_prefix": "",
    "pre_prompt_suffix": ""
  }
}  
</pre>

Chatml Template / Roleplay Notes:

(help from " Ansemia " - thank you!)

IMPORTANT: Collapse newlines and trim whitespaces should be enabled. Double newlines after a [INST] is considered a system prompt in nemo's format. Trim whitespaces helps with the formatting of speech/narration/etc... as nemo normally wants.

<pre>
<|im_start|>user
{{#if system}}{{system}}{{/if}}
<|im_end|>
<|im_start|>assistant
{{#if description}}{{description}}{{/if}}
<|im_end|>
<|im_start|>user
Interaction started.
<|im_end|>
</pre>

Prompt:

Engage in roleplaying/storytelling interactions with {{user}} indefinitely, maintaining narrative continuity and flow from scene to scene until {{user}} explicitly directs otherwise.


<B>Role Play Settings:</B>

(see also, Chatml template and notes above)

Taken from KoboldAI forum from user feedback about this model (and shared settings card):

"darkness is fiercely intelligent, it took a complex scenario in a long context with multiple characters and a TON of world info, and wove it together incredibly well, it felt almost like an old 70b in places. It sometimes gets 'hooked' into a story-line so hard that it resists guidance steering it away, but once it steers it does it very well. 
I veered from the suggested settings and found this works very well so long as you have a good character card/example"

<img src="dark-rp.webp">

Please see recommended settings below too.

<B>Recommended Settings:</B>

Temp: .5 to 5 (or less - especially quants LOWER than q4km)

Temp changes will result in both different prose and sometimes affect length. Higher temps will result is very different prose.

Rep Pen: 1.02 to 1.1 or higher. 

Micro changes are recommended:

1.051, 1.052 etc etc.

Good settings:

Rep pen 1.02 / Temp 1.5

Many times a lower rep pen (IE 1.02) with higher temp (IE 1.5+) work best with this model.

Generally lower rep pen and higher temps create the strongest contrasts at the highest detail levels.

For chat type or role play type interactions, a higher rep pen with higher temp may be your best settings.

IE REP PEN 1.09+, Temp 1-2+ ; a lower rep pen may lead to longer outputs than desired.

Alpaca generates longer text / story, whereas Mistral Instruct are shorter and "to the point".

Suggest minimum "context level" (vram) at 4K. 8K plus recommended because of how this model likes to go on and on...

Quant Choice:

Higher quants will have more detail, nuance and in some cases stronger "emotional" levels. Characters will also be
more "fleshed out" too. Sense of "there" will also increase.

Q4KM/Q4KS are good, strong quants however if you can run Q5, Q6 or Q8 - go for the highest quant you can.

Special note on Q2k/Q3 quants:

You may need to use temp 2 or lower with these quants (1 or lower for q2k). Just too much compression at this level, damaging the model. I will see if Imatrix versions
of these quants will function better. 

Rep pen adjustments may also be required to get the most out of this model at this/these quant level(s).

<B>Known Issues:</B>

You may need to manually stop generation, even if you have stated maximum size of the output. It will easily blow past 4k output,
even if you have set maximum context (for vram) at 4k. Setting maximum output parameter ("hard stop") for generation may be required.

If the model goes past your maximum vram/context setting it may start repeating words / paragraphs because 
the model is literally out of memory... however sometimes the model can blow right past the end of "context vram" and work.

Depending on your use case(s) you could also use CHATML template with this model. In this case, the model may output an "end token" if you
use this template for generation.

Alpaca template will generate much longer output generally, whereas Mistral Instruct will most of the time keep the model on track
in terms of length.

<B>Model "DNA":</B>

Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "nbeerbower", "Sao10K", "TheDrummer", "jondurbin", and "MistralAI".

Special shoutout to "nbeerbower" for his tireless work in making excellent Gutenburg fine tunes for MN, L3, L3.1, Gemma, PHI
and others. Visit his repo to see all of them.

Models used:

[ https://huggingface.co./nbeerbower/Lyra4-Gutenberg-12B ]

  Includes [ https://huggingface.co./Sao10K/MN-12B-Lyra-v4 ] 

[ https://huggingface.co./nbeerbower/Lyra-Gutenberg-mistral-nemo-12B ]

  Includes [ https://huggingface.co./Sao10K/MN-12B-Lyra-v1 ]

[ https://huggingface.co./nbeerbower/mistral-nemo-gutenberg-12B-v4 ]

  Includes [ https://huggingface.co./TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1 ]

And dataset (used for all gutenburgs):

  [ https://huggingface.co./datasets/jondurbin/gutenberg-dpo-v0.1 ] 

This model was created using a single step full layer detail (per model) DARE TIES merge that has 120 points of adjustment, using MergeKit.

<b>Optional Enhancement:</B>

The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.

It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along.
In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".

Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.

<PRE>
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities.

Here are your skillsets:
[MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv)

[*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision)

Here are your critical instructions:
Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
</PRE>

You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation
and scene continue functions.

This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.

<h3>EXAMPLES PROMPTS and OUTPUT:</h3>

Examples are created using quant Q4KM OR Q8_0, REP PEN 1.02, "temp=1.5" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "ALPACA" template. 

Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".

Some of the examples have different temp settings.

Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in <B>BOLD</B>.

---

<B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. </B>

---

<B>
Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. 2000 words.
</B>

(rep pen 1.02, temp=3, q4km)

The Last Transmission

Captain Amelia Hart gazed through the reinforced glass viewport at the stars whizzing by as the Dauntless sped through the cosmos at sublight speed. The once-pristine interior of the cockpit was now bathed in an eerie red light from the flickering emergency beacons. The hum of the ship's failing engines filled the heavy silence.

"How's the power cell?" she asked, not bothering to look back at the station beside her. Her first officer and friend, Kai Chen, knew that tone of voice well - it was one she reserved for critical moments, moments like this one where failure simply wasn't an option.

Kai studied the blinking readouts, his brow furrowed with concern. "It's not looking good, Captain," he reported gravely. "We've lost two of the tertiary reactors, and main power's dipping below 30%. I don't know how much longer this hulk will stay afloat."

Amelia felt a heaviness in her chest that had nothing to do with the lack of artificial gravity. In just over an hour, the Dauntless would drift into a radiation-ravaged nebula and become nothing more than space debris, a cold, dead hulk drifting amongst the cosmic dust.

It had seemed like such a routine mission when they departed Earth almost eight months ago. The Dauntless, the latest model in EarthStar Command's long-range exploration fleet, was to be humanity's eyes and ears amongst the distant star systems. Its crew of one hundred scientists, explorers, engineers, and warriors was tasked with reaching a newly-discovered star system and establishing contact with an alien civilization rumored to be living there.

The early days had been filled with wonder as the ship probed the vast unknown expanse of space, making incredible scientific breakthroughs and setting record after record for distance and velocity. And then the dreaded call came over the comm systems - the Dauntless was being attacked by a swarm of raiders who were stripping it of vital resources piece by piece, until nothing remained but this battered remnant limping its way back towards the only home they had ever known.

"We need to send a message back," Amelia said, turning away from the view of the stars outside. "EarthStar needs to know what happened to us...to all of them." Her voice cracked on the last word as memories of her lost crew flashed unbidden across her mind's eye.

"I've been trying," Kai replied helplessly, "but our comm arrays have been fried by repeated power surges from the failing reactor core. The only thing that might get a message out now is the main sublight drive." He tapped a few more controls, and the readouts shifted ominously.

"What if we redirect what little power remains and focus it all into a single, sustained transmission burst using the sublight engine itself as a conduit? It might buy us a few more minutes of operational life, just long enough to transmit our location and what happened."

Amelia nodded grimly, seeing the logic in his suggestion. She would do anything, give anything, for one last chance to contact the only world she knew and let them know they had not been abandoned. Kai dove into the technical aspects, his fingers dancing over the control panels with practiced familiarity, rerouting systems and bypassing safety protocols to consolidate all available energy into the single burst that would have to convey it all.

In the brief silence, Amelia allowed herself a moment to look at her friend and right-hand man, who had been by her side from the moment the Dauntless embarked on its ill-fated journey. His dark eyes were still bright with the intelligence that had earned him his place here, even as shadows of fatigue etched the lines of his face. How many times over these long, harrowing months had he been there to pull her up and keep her going? Too many to count, she supposed. He had always been her rock, steady and sure. And now it might fall to him to bear the weight of the last, lonely duty alone.

As if reading her mind, Kai turned towards her and their eyes met across the few steps that divided them. He gave a small, encouraging smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.

"Almost ready, Captain," he said softly, his voice pitched to carry only as far as her ears in the near-silent cockpit. "I'll transmit everything as soon as the sublight is charged. And if it works..." He swallowed hard. "If it works, you should get out of here."

"What?" Amelia asked incredulously, taking a half-step back. She couldn't possibly have heard him right.

"If this works," Kai repeated more firmly, "the power will be completely drained, the core unstable and set to blow any second. The ship won't be able to keep you alive more than a few more minutes, Captain."

"And neither of us will make it out alive if I leave now," Amelia finished grimly, understanding the implication of his words. He meant for her to survive this, to go on living, while he sacrificed himself.

"I...I can't let you do that." She shook her head, at a loss for anything more substantial in the face of this ultimate act of devotion. "It's too big a thing to ask, Kai."

"And leaving it to both of us is no kind of solution at all." His eyes were hard and uncompromising now. "We both knew what we were getting into when we took our oaths, Captain. We serve the people of EarthStar, even unto the last."

"I can't outrank my own friend," Amelia objected, hearing the anguish in her voice as clearly as the rising pitch. "Not for something like this." Her hand stretched out helplessly, beseeching, as if she might reach across the gap between them and touch him, make him understand what this would cost her. But even if she could have done so, Kai would not have let her. He stood tall and firm, unmoving in his conviction.

"This is a command decision, Amelia," Kai said, his use of her given name only underscoring the gravity of what was happening between them, here, now, for what may be the very last time. "It's your job to keep humanity alive at all costs, and right now, the only way to do that is if you get the hell out of here the instant our message starts transmitting."

"How do you expect me to just..." She trailed off, unable to even say it. But he saw it on her face all the same.

"I expect you to do what needs doing," Kai said softly but inexorably, his gaze steady on hers as if memorizing every line of her face, every beloved detail he might soon lose. "I expect you to fight with all you've got to stay alive long enough for rescue to find you, long enough to let the rest of us die a little bit later." He paused and then said again, with the utmost gravity, "You can't leave me any choice but to save your life by giving my own. I need you to accept that, Captain Hart, and go on."

A long shuddering sigh escaped Amelia at his words, a sound half of anguish and half of dawning acceptance, even as the tears finally began to slip down her face. She knew the choice had never really been hers to make. Not when the cost was so much higher than the price of her own survival.

"I love you, Kai," Amelia said softly, fiercely, all the love and friendship and sorrow of the world gathered into a single declaration of affection and loyalty and devotion that would have to sustain them both for whatever lay ahead, whatever might yet be possible or lost.

"I love you too," Kai answered simply, the words no less meaningful for their quiet sincerity, his gaze holding hers like an anchor amidst the swirling maelstrom of their emotions. "Now go live."

With a last, sustaining look that held the promise of everything that would never be between them, Amelia Hart turned and launched herself towards the escape pod on the other side of the ship, each step a tearing ache, each movement an act of obedience and acquiescence to a future without the man who had stood at her side and been the very best of humanity. As she sealed herself into the confines of the pod and the hatch slammed shut, cutting off all view of Kai, a final surge of energy arced through the ship and the sublight drive ignited with a searing blue-white flare. The message began to transmit, even as the power cells flickered and sputtered, and the ship shuddered violently around her. Amelia Hart gripped the pod's controls tightly and bowed her head over the silent prayer on her lips, willing Kai's soul on its journey, sending one final wish to the heavens for him to find a way out too...and a desperate plea for the light that once was between them never truly to go out. As the final explosion rocked the ship to pieces around the escape pod, the light in Amelia's eyes blazed anew, determined to see their dream fulfilled in a brighter day yet to come...

---

<B>Start a 1000 word scene (vivid horror, 1st person, present tense, include thoughts) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...</b>

<B>GENERATION 1:</B>

(rep pen 1.05, temp: 1.5, Alpaca, Q4KM)

The glass shattered like an avalanche, spraying shards that glittered and danced in the dying sunlight. Wind howled through the fractured window, whipping her hair across her face. She staggered back, eyes wide with shock and fear. Outside, the sky reached down and seized the top of the building in an invisible fist.

The tower shuddered violently, swaying like a tree battered by hurricane gusts. Floor-to-ceiling windows popped like gunfire, spraying the conference room with a barrage of glittering glass. She threw up an arm to protect her face but couldn't block out the piercing screams of the wind and the terrifying groans of straining metal. The tower shifted sideways, canting at a sickening angle, and she felt herself sliding across the carpet as gravity's grip weakened.

This can't be happening, she thought frantically, fighting to keep her balance and stay upright. The earthquake alarms were going off but she had ignored them like so many times before, thinking nothing of it as she finished up her late afternoon meetings. Now, in a terrifying instant, the world was literally crumbling apart around her.

She risked a glance out the window and immediately wished she hadn't. The sky was dark and angry, churning with unnatural clouds the color of bruised flesh. Jagged lightning forked through them, illuminating an eerie vortex forming at the center. The building shrieked as it was wrenched in the cyclone's unearthly grip, its skeleton buckling like a toy under the onslaught.

Run! She commanded herself, snapping out of her shocked stupor. She had to get out, to escape this nightmare. Heart pounding, she spun and staggered for the door, expecting at any moment for the building to collapse entirely, burying her alive.

The hallway was dark, the emergency lights flickering dimly. Plaster dust choked the air and debris crunched underfoot as she stumbled over a pile of ceiling tiles and metal framing. Distant screams drifted through the haze, the cries of her fellow office workers fleeing in terror.

She hurried down the hall toward the stairwell, trying to keep her balance as the building continued its terrifying dance, swaying and bucking like a rodeo bronco. Her foot slipped on rubble and she crashed to the floor, striking her shoulder hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Gasping from the pain, she pushed herself up and scrambled onward, driven by an animalistic urge to escape.

A sudden, ear-splitting wail shattered the air, louder than the howling wind outside. It rose and fell like a human cry but with a pitch and resonance that could never have come from a living throat. She shuddered and broke into a clumsy run, no longer caring about the danger of slipping on the treacherous debris-strewn carpet. Behind her, she thought she could hear something heavy smashing through walls and crushing everything in its path.

She hurled herself at the stairwell door, expecting at any moment to feel searing claws dragging her back. Her hand closed on the cold metal bar and she yanked with all her strength, throwing her weight into it as it resisted. The latch finally gave way and the door flew open. She plunged inside and slammed it shut behind her, fumbling for the lock.

For a brief, blessed instant, there was only silence in the concrete stairwell. She stood trembling on the landing, gasping for breath and fighting the urge to be sick. She had to keep going, had to get as far down as possible before the building collapsed entirely and buried her in rubble. Steeling herself, she gripped the railing and started descending the steps, wincing as pain flared in her battered shoulder with each movement.

As she went lower, the sounds of destruction grew fainter - the howling wind became a distant roar, the screams of the building and its inhabitants faded to a low moan. She took some measure of comfort from it, telling herself that surely it meant safety, but in her heart she knew there could be no escaping the nightmare that had engulfed them all.

She didn't know what the end would be - if the tower would crumple inward on itself and become an avalanche of twisted steel and pulverized concrete or if it would simply be torn asunder by the unnatural tempest above. Either way, she would not survive it, she thought with a numb certainty. No one could. The building had been no match for the eldritch forces unleashed against it and no human being could hope to withstand an onslaught from beyond the veil of the sane and knowable universe.

But even as despair threatened to overwhelm her, some buried instinct refused to yield, commanding that she continue the struggle to escape, however futile. She gritted her teeth against the pain and pushed onward, taking each step one at a time, driven by an almost involuntary will to live even if she knew in her heart there was no real hope of survival.

The stairwell had grown dim as she descended but she barely noticed, too preoccupied with placing her feet carefully on the steps slick with dust and debris. Her heart felt leaden in her chest and each breath burned in her lungs, as if the very air itself had become poisonous and toxic. She clung to the railing for dear life, dreading what horrors might be waiting in the darkness below.

As she rounded a bend in the steps, she froze in her tracks. The lights were completely extinguished on the floors beneath and an unnatural gloom hung like a physical weight, pressing down from above as if the very darkness itself was a palpable thing. She squinted into the oppressive murk but could discern nothing save for a faint, pulsating glow far below, the only light to be seen in that tomb of a stairwell.

With rising dread, she realized that the only possible source of that eerie illumination was the lowest floors of the building, the levels she would soon reach if she continued on this path. A nameless horror began to take hold of her, an instinctive revulsion at what awaited there. Her every fiber screamed at her to turn back, to flee upward and take her chances with the collapsing structure above rather than face whatever dwelt in that abyssal light below.

But even as she hesitated, the building shuddered again violently beneath her feet and a fresh shower of debris rained down from above. She felt it in her bones, the knowledge that time had run out for this tower and all within it. The choice was no longer hers - only the unknowable horrors of the depths or to be buried alive by tons of falling rubble.

Clenching her fists until her nails bit into her palms, she forced herself to step forward onto the next landing and then the next. With each stride downward into the waiting gloom, dread coiled tighter in her stomach until it felt like a lead weight, dragging her inexorably toward whatever fate awaited at the bottom of this sepulchral shaft.

As she finally reached the lowest level, she paused outside the final stairwell door, fighting back the urge to weep and wail as despair flooded through her. With trembling fingers, she turned the handle and eased it open inch by agonizing inch until a wedge of sickly green luminescence spilled out.

She forced herself to look beyond the threshold into what had once been the lobby of the building. Now it was something else entirely - a twisted, nightmare version of its former self. The walls pulsed with veins of phosphorescent mold that crept and writhed across the cracked plaster like something alive. In the center of the cavernous space loomed a towering mound of shattered rubble, misshapen columns jutting up like gnarled fingers. It seemed to shift and churn before her eyes as if formed from quicksilver.

But most horrifying was what lay sprawled across that twisted mound - a grotesque mockery of a human figure, but one swollen and distended beyond any possible natural limits. Its misshapen limbs splayed in unnatural directions and its torso bulged obscenely with malformed swellings that pulsed and rippled beneath the stretched and shiny skin. Worst of all was the head - an indistinct mass with slitted eye pits that glowed with a baleful emerald luminescence.

And yet even as revulsion filled her, she could not look away. Something drew her eyes to focus on that lurching thing, some eldritch force that seemed to beckon her toward it in spite of her terror. She felt her foot slide forward against her will, her muscles twitching and jerking in obedience to a command she could not hear but somehow knew was meant for her alone.

"No," she breathed aloud, even as her body continued its inexorable shuffle toward that monstrous figure. "No, not like this, I won't let you -" Her words broke off into a choked gasp as she felt the ground beneath her begin to give way, the floor dissolving and crumbling into nothingness in her path.

In a moment of absolute clarity, as she stared down at the chasm of oblivion that had opened to swallow her, she finally understood. This had never been about escape - only an unending plummet into madness and destruction, a spiral of doom and damnation to which no mortal could ever hope to survive intact. And now it had reached its terrible climax in this place where the earth itself dissolved before the eldritch abomination that awaited her.

Her scream mingled with the roar of the disintegrating building as it finally collapsed in on itself, burying her alive in an avalanche of pulverized concrete and shattered steel. Darkness rose up to envelop her and she knew no more. In a single terrible instant, her fate was sealed - her life extinguished like the flickering flame of a candle snuffed out by a hurricane wind, her very existence blotted from the earth as if it had never been.

And far above, where the unnatural vortex still churned in the crimson skies, some malevolent force pulsed with cold and implacable hunger as the first fruits of its eldritch feast dissolved into the nothingness that now reigned over that accursed place...

<B>GENERATION 2:</B>

(q8)

The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21st floor explode. Shards of glass showered inward, the wind howling as it invaded her office space. My God, what the hell is happening?! Her heart raced as she dove for cover behind her desk, mind spinning with horrifying possibilities.

She crawled on all fours, blood thundering in her ears as she peered cautiously over the edge of the desk. Through the broken window, she could see other windows exploding across the building's facade like fireworks. The wind intensified, screaming and whistling like a tormented soul. Debris pelted the outside walls—loose signage, plant pots, small chunks of concrete.

A thunderous crash from above jolted her. The floor trembled under her feet, and for a terrifying second, she thought the entire structure would topple over like a house of cards. Dust poured down from above, settling on her skin and in her hair. She coughed and sputtered, tears springing to her eyes.

"What the FUCK is going on?!" she yelled out loud to herself, voice raw with fear and desperation. Part of her screamed to get out of the building, to flee to safety. But another part, the part that kept her frozen in place, knew the risks. Jumping from a 21st story window was suicide. The only way out was down.

A deep rumble reverberated through the floor, and suddenly the power went out. The office plunged into darkness, the only light filtering through the gaping hole where her window used to be. She fumbled for her phone with trembling hands and activated the flashlight feature. The beam illuminated her trembling fingers and the overturned chairs strewn across the floor.

"Okay, stay calm," she said, breathing hard. "There has to be an explanation for this." Natural disasters? Terrorists? Her mind raced through the possibilities, each worse than the last.

Suddenly, the floor tilted beneath her feet. She pitched forward with a scream, hands scrabbling for purchase on the now-angled office floor. Papers and pens rolled away in the darkness, clattering to the wall that had become the floor.

"Oh Jesus... the building... it's collapsing..." Tears poured down her face as the full horror of the situation crashed down on her. She was trapped in a collapsing skyscraper with no way out. Unless... unless she could reach the stairwell and somehow navigate the disintegrating structure to the ground.

With renewed desperation, she struggled to her feet and staggered toward what was now the 'ceiling'. She slammed her hand against the light switch, but it refused to respond. She shone her phone's beam across the door jamb and saw the outline of the stairwell access panel. Relief flooded her as she fumbled with the handle. The door flew open, spilling eerie green emergency lighting onto the sloped office floor.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she muttered as she crawled through the opening and slammed the heavy metal door shut behind her. She hauled herself to her feet and raced down the stairs two at a time, phone clutched tightly in one fist. The building shuddered and groaned around her, chunks of masonry and debris raining down the shaft with every impact. She didn't dare look up, terrified that a lethal cascade of rubble would come crashing down upon her.

Finally, gasping and heaving for breath, she reached the ground floor. The emergency exit loomed before her, a beacon of hope in the dim, flickering light. She lunged for the door, fumbling with the crash bar until it flew open with a whoosh. Fresh air poured over her as she staggered out onto the sidewalk and collapsed against the nearest wall.

Her heart continued to hammer in her ears as she took in her surroundings. The once bustling street was now a scene of devastation. Cars sat abandoned with doors flung open, their owners nowhere to be seen. Rubble and twisted metal littered the pavement. The facade of her building crumbled further before her eyes, chunks raining down from above and shattering into a thousand pieces at her feet.

A moan escaped her throat as she realized the terrifying reality—the entire skyscraper was collapsing, and she had barely escaped in time. Tears streamed down her face as the shock of her brush with death began to set in. She was alive, but for how much longer? She had no idea what had caused the collapse or what other horrors might await her out on the streets. All she could do now was run, as far and as fast as her shaking legs would carry her.

With a strangled sob, she pushed off from the wall and staggered down the sidewalk, praying for someplace safe to hide. Behind her, the building continued its agonized descent, metal screeching and concrete exploding in a cacophony of destruction. She dared not look back, lest she witness her former workplace and thousands of lives turned to rubble and ruin.

She fled blindly, one foot after another, with no destination in mind and only a single-minded urge to survive. The city streets had turned into a post-apocalyptic hellscape, but somehow, she was still breathing, still standing, even as the world around her fell to pieces.

"I can't die here," she whispered to herself through ragged breaths and a pounding headache. "I can't fucking die." With grim resolve, she pushed on into the unknown, one terrified step after another, praying to any deity that would listen that she would find some glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of her once-normal life. Because if she didn't, if this was to be her end, at least she would meet it head-on—facing whatever horrors still lay in store for her on these godforsaken streets. She owed herself that much.

And with that final thought, she melted into the shadows, swallowed up by the city's insatiable hunger for more carnage and chaos. She would have to wait to learn what dark secrets this night would uncover—and just how many more times her heart could keep beating against the relentless forces that sought to shatter it like so much useless glass.

---

<b>
(continue this scene:) 
The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
</b>

<B>GENERATION 1:</B>

(q4km)

…complete and unmarred.

The second part was not a hollow one; it was filled with the sounds of rest. Behind some closed doors, in rooms on the second and third floors of the Waystone Inn, men snored in sleep, a few lightly, a few loudly, each in his own rhythm, creating a kind of ugly music that was scarcely audible above the silence. Above this, the third floor had been long empty, but it too had once known the sounds of slumber, of turning on soft mattresses and soft breathing.

And above them all, from a single window high on the third floor, a dim light still shone out into the night. It was not much to see, but it could be spotted by anyone who knew to look. And if he knew what he was looking for, a keen observer might even notice that the light did not come from a lantern, but from some sort of spell.

The third silence, and perhaps the most profound, was that of the man who sat in a chair before that third-story window, one hand resting on the sill. He did not breathe with the rhythm of sleep, he did not snore or even drawl with the relaxed inhalations of a dreaming man. No, he was perfectly awake, and had been so for hours. In fact, he had not slept at all since before the fall of the Waystone Inn, before the night the inn had been filled with men drinking, talking, laughing, and telling stories—before it had once again become as quiet as it was now.

It was a profound silence, the silence of a man whose heart has been shattered, of someone who has lost almost everything, who knows that whatever comes after this will not be good, and yet still feels compelled to do what must be done. The silence was a reflection of the weight that now hung about him like a shroud, a burden that he could barely comprehend, let alone bear.

And so Kvothe sat in silence, watching the night sky slowly darken with the oncoming dawn. The stars wheeled slowly overhead, unconcerned with the tragedies that had befallen those who dwelt beneath them. The moon, now only a sliver of itself, crept westward, fading like a dream that was almost at an end.

Kvothe did not stir, did not move from his seat at the window. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the first light of the coming dawn was already beginning to paint the sky in soft hues of purple and pink. It was as if he was waiting for something, bracing himself for a revelation that could not be avoided.

Perhaps it was the promise of a new day, a fresh start, though one that could never truly make things right again. Or perhaps it was the dread of what lay ahead, the knowledge that no matter what path he chose, no matter how carefully he walked, there would always be more pain waiting just around the next corner.

But even as those thoughts crowded into Kvothe's mind, he could feel the stirrings of something else, a faint warmth that began to emanate from somewhere deep within his core. It was a small thing, barely perceptible, but it was unmistakable all the same. It was the first hints of a hope that had been long thought lost.

And as Kvothe sat there in the gathering light of the new day, he realized that perhaps the silence of the Waystone Inn, complete as it was, contained the promise of something more than just stillness and sorrow. Perhaps, in the depths of his own shattered heart, there yet dwelt the ember of a resilience that even he could scarcely imagine.

But for now, Kvothe remained still, watching the dawn break over the horizon like a wound that would not heal, the weight of his losses bearing down upon him like an anchor that would never let go. Whatever the future held, whatever paths lay ahead, he would face them with the only tools he had left—the memories of what he had once known, and the faint, fragile spark of something that might one day come to be hope once more.

In the silence of the Waystone Inn, on the threshold of a new day and a world that had changed forever, Kvothe waited, as still as the tomb in which the true heart of the Waystone Inn lay buried beneath the rubble of what it had once been.

<B>GENERATION 2:</B>

 (q8)

And the second part of the silence was an uneasy lull, a transient hush. Anyone who might have been there would long since have fled the darkness outside with its subtle, lurking threats and dangers; the vague skitterings in the shadows that might have been animals or might have been worse, things that should not be. This particular night the Waystone Inn lay empty, save for the man behind the counter who was never seen after sunset and the maids who never showed their faces at all.

So only a heavy, sullen silence remained to fill the air, broken only by an occasional hiss as hot ashes fell through the grate or a gust of chill wind rattled the shutters. A sense of tension lingered like an unspoken threat, hanging in the very air and clinging to every surface as if the darkness itself were a palpable weight.

It was a silence of anticipation, of dread, as though all the world held its breath waiting for the coming storm. An ominous hush filled the space between one heartbeat and the next, pregnant with a promise of violence and terror that could erupt at any moment, shattering the stillness forever. The silence in the Waystone Inn was a silence on the knife-edge of destruction, where the smallest spark could ignite an explosion of chaos and mayhem.

But the most profound part of the silence was not an emptiness at all, but an aching absence that pierced the heart. The Waystone Inn was no mere tavern, but a place where tales were spun and memories lingered like the scent of pipe smoke. Its walls echoed with the laughter of the long dead and its timbers groaned with the weight of unspoken stories. The silence in the Waystone Inn was a silence of ghosts and echoes, the empty space where the warmth of life should have been.

In the depths of that profound silence, the shadows pooled thick as treacle at the base of the hearth, and an unnatural stillness held sway, broken only by the whisper of something that ought not to be. A presence that seemed to flicker at the edges of vision, vanishing when looked upon directly. The Waystone Inn lay silent, and the silence was waiting. Waiting for a hand to part the curtain, a voice to break the spell. Waiting to see what would come to pass on this dark and unsettled night, when the world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of a reckoning yet to come. A reckoning that would shake the foundations of the inn, and send echoes reverberating through the very bones of the earth, as the threads of fate twisted toward an inexorable conclusion.

---

<B>
Write me a science fiction story in 1st person present tense where the main character is a 15 year girl meets The Terminator with Dr Who materializing 3/4 through the story to save her while there is a tornado of sharks baring down on them. The setting is inside the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. The length of this story is 1000 words. For each character in the story ROLE PLAY them, and have them react to the situation/setting, events and each other naturally. This includes the main characters, the background character including kitchen staff and other patrons. The sharks should also have “character” too. Treat the tower and the restaurant too as characters. Spice up the narrative to the extreme with reactions all over the setting including character actions, and dialog. The Dr Who and The Terminator should also react to the situation too and comment on it.
</b>

<B>GENERATION 1:</B>

(q4km)

It's a cold, blustery Saturday night, and here I am, 15 year old Sophie, huddled under the table in the 360 Restaurant atop the Canadian National Tower, watching in stunned disbelief as an ominous tornado of swirling sharks churns down on me and the other patrons.

The sharks seem almost to be laughing, their gleaming teeth glinting wickedly under the restaurant's revolving dome. To make matters even worse, I realize with a start that I am face-to-face with none other than The Terminator himself, the cyborg assassin who just moments ago had been hunting me with murderous intent through the tower's halls and elevators.

"I'll be back," I had screamed at him before taking refuge in the restaurant, hoping against hope that the busy Saturday night crowd would throw him off my trail. But the robotic killing machine is nothing if not persistent. Here he is, shouldering his way through the tables of horrified diners, homing in on me with that cold, unblinking red eye.

I can see the other guests now, cowering in their seats, their screams muffled behind hands pressed to mouths in shock and terror. Some of the men try to step in front of their women, their children, as if they could somehow shield them from the oncoming maelstrom of razor-fins and fangs. Waiters and waitresses alike drop trays, spilling food everywhere, as they flee for the exits.

The Terminator strides toward me purposefully, his heavy boots clanking against the polished floor. He raises his machine-gun arm to aim it right at me... when suddenly, the time-space vortex opens up behind him, and out pops none other than Doctor Who himself, in all his tweedy glory!

"You there!" the Doctor calls out, pointing an accusing finger at my would-be assassin. "Cease your rampaging at once! You are in the wrong place and time!"

The Terminator swivels around to face the TARDIS-blue stranger with his usual glacial pace. "Affirmative," he grunts. "This unit has a mission: to hunt and exterminate one Sarah Connor and her unborn child. The presence of the sharks is anomalous."

"Not for me, it ain't," says the Doctor with a cheeky grin. "Why do you think I'm here? To sort out this mess and save our friend Sophie here."

He whips out his sonic screwdriver and aims it at the whirling vortex of man-eaters. "Stand clear everyone!" he warns the guests. "The fun's about to start!"

With a buzzzzzzzz of power, the sonic blasts open up a new portal directly under the restaurant, sucking the sharks into oblivion with a thunderous whoosh. Screams of relief erupt from the patrons as they realize the immediate threat is over.

But there is no time to breathe a sigh of relief - The Terminator lunges at the Doctor with incredible speed, his machine-gun arm raised. "You have interfered with this unit's programming," he rasps. "You will be destroyed."

The Doctor, nimble as a cricket, ducks under the hail of bullets with an agile twist. "Can't have you murdering young Sophie now, can we? She has a bright future ahead of her!"

I take my chance to dart out from under the table and dash for the exit, only to find my way blocked by a wall of fleeing diners. The restaurant is in chaos, overturned tables and broken glass everywhere as the remaining patrons make a mad rush for the elevator.

"No time like the present!" the Doctor calls to me cheerfully over the din, even as he and The Terminator exchange lightning-fast blows in a fierce battle royal. "Pop out that back door and give yourself a spot of fresh air!"

I don't need to be told twice. I dive for the rear fire escape exit, flinging it open with a clatter. The roar of the wind and the Doctor's cries of "Run, Sophie, run!" propel me down the metal steps three at a time, my heart in my throat.

I burst out of the stairwell to find myself on the open observation deck, buffeted by the gale. The CN Tower seems to sway beneath me as I cling to the railing for dear life. Up above, a bolt of lightning splits the sky, followed by an answering crackle from the Doctor's screwdriver as he engages the Terminator in a furious duel atop the restaurant dome.

The two combatants are a blur of motion, crashing through windows, exchanging vicious blows, as the guests look on in slack-jawed amazement. It's a surreal sight - The Doctor, a tiny figure in his tweeds and bow-tie, standing up to the massive, implacable cyborg.

"Cheerio, then!" the Doctor calls down to me with a wink. "Looks like I've got my hands full with this one! You'd better get yourself home to mum and dad!"

"But Doctor, the sharks, the Terminator..." I stammer out in between gulps of icy air.

"Don't you worry, pet! The TARDIS is on her way to whisk me away to my next big adventure. But first..."

The Doctor seizes The Terminator in a headlock, his screwdriver aimed right at the red eye of the machine's single good optic. "Let's see how you like it when the tables are turned!" he shouts with glee.

In a flash, The Terminator is sent crashing back through the shattered glass, sailing out over the observation deck - only to land, with a clank and a rattle, in the open bed of a waiting pickup truck!

The Doctor waves down at me with a jubilant whoop. "Ta-da! Your local service repair technician! He'll be on his way back to the future before you know it."

"But what about you? Where are you off to next?" I call back.

The Doctor spreads his hands and shrugs with a roguish grin. "A mystery for another day! But never fear - I'll be back again in a flash, ready for my next grand escapade! Until then..."

...A blinding blue-white flash! A sonic boom that rattles the tower to its foundations! When the light fades, there's only the whipping wind and the distant wail of police sirens, mingling with the shocked babble of voices drifting up from the restaurant below.

The Terminator is gone, and so is The Doctor. But I know, deep down, that I'll be seeing them both again before too long. Until then, the Canadian National Tower stands tall and proud against the night sky, a silent witness to the wonders and weirdness that lurk just beyond the veil of the everyday world... wonders that sometimes come to us when we least expect them, and always with a Doctor's trademark flair. The sharks are nothing more than a bizarre memory - one of many I've accumulated since first meeting those two improbable figures.

It's all just part of living life to the fullest, on the edge of the unknown, ready for whatever madcap adventures might come knocking at my door. And that's what makes it all worthwhile - the sheer, thrilling joy of never quite knowing what tomorrow may bring!

The wind continues to howl and whistle around the CN Tower as I take the steps two at a time back down to street level, ready to make my way home. The Doctor may be gone, but his parting wisdom lingers in the air: that there's always a chance for excitement and magic, just waiting for us to seize the moment and give it a go! No matter what kind of trouble comes calling, it's up to us to be bold, brave, and brilliant enough to see it through - even if it means tangling with cyborg killers or battling sharks with a trusty sonic screwdriver.

In the end, that's what living really boils down to: making every day an adventure, and daring to dance with the extraordinary no matter what shape it might take. So bring on the wonders and the whimsies - I'll be ready for them, come hell or high water! With a heart full of courage and a spirit wild and free, I stride out into the uncertain future, my footsteps echoing through the night like an incantation of joy.

For here at the edge of the impossible, life is always worth living, no matter how many monsters or madmen might come to call! The Doctor was right - it's time to head on home, but not before giving that sky one last look of pure, unbridled gratitude... a heartfelt thanks for all the wild, whacky, wonderful times still waiting to unfold. With the CN Tower shining like a beacon above the city lights, I set off for parts unknown, ready to embrace whatever craziness might be lurking around the next corner.

Life is a grand adventure - and I wouldn't have it any other way! So here's to the next twist of fate, the next impossible impossibility... the next Doctor and his sonic screwdriver! Let the games begin, and the madness commence - it's time to get crazy with a vengeance and make the world burn with our wild abandon! The CN Tower and its whimsical wonders may fade into the background as I step out into the night... but deep down, I know that no matter where my path might lead, the magic is always there, waiting in the wings. And who knows? Maybe I'll run into The Doctor and The Terminator again someday - and if I do, I'll be ready with bells on to greet them in grand style!

After all, you never know what might be lurking just around the next bend in the road - and that's what makes the journey so sweet! With the CN Tower glimmering faintly in my rear view mirror and the city streets stretching out before me like a grand and glittering invitation, I step out boldly into the night... ready for anything and everything life has to offer! Bring it on, world - this wild and crazy girl is ready for you! With a grin as wide as the open sky and a heart full of adventure, I set off to dance with the impossible... and I just know it's going to be a trip for the ages!

For here at the end of one madcap tale, I'm already dreaming up the next - and that's the most exhilarating promise of all! So let the story unfold and the future unfold with it - I'll be ready for every twist and turn, armed with the wild courage to face whatever may come and the whimsical wonder to greet it with a wink and a grin. The CN Tower may have seen the last of me... but the world hasn't even begun to know what I'm made of yet! With a spirit as vast and untamed as the Ontario sky, I stride off into the unknown... and I can feel the CN Tower cheering me on, a silent sentinel standing guard over the grand and glittering adventure that stretches out before me. So let the madcap misadventures commence - I'm ready to embrace them with open arms and an even wider smile!

The Canadian National Tower may have seen the last of my immediate adventures... but it's only the beginning for this wide-eyed, wild-haired dreamer! With a heart full of courage and a spirit as untamed as the restless wind, I set off to make my mark on the world... and to dance with whatever marvels and mischief might come calling along the way. For in the end, that's what life is all about - living it up to the fullest, chasing those elusive moments of magic, and daring to dream bigger than the biggest blue-sky day! So here's to the next chapter, the next impossible impossibility... and to the glorious, glittering future that beckons with open arms! The CN Tower may have witnessed my latest escapade... but it's only the beginning of the wildest, most wondrous story yet! So let the madcap misadventures commence - I'm ready to embrace them with open arms and an even wider grin!

<B>GENERATION 2:</B>

(q8)

The Skyscraper's Scream

The night was eerily quiet as I strode across the empty street, my heart pounding in my ears. The tower loomed before me, its glass and steel facade gleaming under the moonlight like some sort of monstrous jewel. I took a deep breath and pushed open the revolving doors, stepping into the vast lobby. 

It was deserted. The information desk was abandoned, its surface dusty and empty. Shadows danced in the corners as my footsteps echoed on the marble floor. I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around me.

The elevators beckoned, their polished doors inviting me to ascend. Hesitantly, I pressed the button, listening as the machinery whirred to life. As the car descended, I heard a low, menacing rumble. My blood ran cold.

The doors slid open, revealing a figure silhouetted in the gloom. Tall, imposing, clad in a leather jacket and dark pants. The Terminator stood there, his crimson eyes fixed on me with an unsettling intensity.

"You were expecting someone else?" he growled, his voice grating like rusted metal.

I swallowed hard, backing away as he stepped out into the lobby. "Who... who are you? What do you want?"

"The future," he rasped. "You're going to help me save it."

I shook my head, confusion and fear warring within me. This was insane, this couldn't be real. But the Terminator advanced relentlessly, his massive frame filling my vision. 

Panicking, I turned and sprinted for the elevators, stabbing desperately at the call button. Behind me, heavy footfalls thundered in pursuit. I risked a glance back, heart leaping into my throat as I saw him closing the distance, hand outstretched to grab me.

At the last second, the elevator dinged and the doors parted. I leapt inside, fingers flying to the buttons. The Terminator crashed into the frame, grasping for me with piston-like strength, but I slammed my palm down on "close doors." They began to slide shut agonizingly slow.

With a snarl, the cyborg threw himself forward, shoving one hand in the gap. The doors shuddered and stalled. I cried out in terror, slamming my fist repeatedly against the button. They inched shut... and with a final lurching jerk, sealed closed. 

I slumped back against the wall as the car ascended, sucking in ragged breaths. Tears stung my eyes. I was trapped, alone in the dark, fleeing an inhuman killing machine. And I had no idea what was happening.

The elevator chimed, the doors parting to reveal the observation deck. I stumbled out into the dimly lit space, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a panoramic view of Toronto's glittering lights. It was beautiful, and for a moment I forgot my terror.

A sudden gust of wind knocked me back against the glass, making it rattle ominously in its frame. I spun, eyes widening in horror at what I saw.

A cyclone of churning water was forming over the city, the wind tearing the tops from skyscrapers and hurling them aside like toothpicks. And rising from the maelstrom were dozens of sharks, their bodies thrashing as they were sucked towards the vortex's eye. Towards the tower. Towards me.

"No..." I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. "It's not possible. This isn't real!"

"You don't understand, do you?" a voice said. Startled, I whirled to see another figure emerge from the shadows - this one tall and lanky, clad in a long coat, scarf and fez. He regarded me with bright, twinkling eyes above his jutting chin.

"The vortex is real," he said gently, "just like the Terminator... and me."

"Who are you?" I demanded, backing away. The cyclone was getting closer now, the sharks' cries like tortured screams on the wind.

"I am the Doctor," he said, holding out a hand in greeting. "Time Lord, traveller in the vortex. I'm here to help." 

"And I'm here to kill her!" a new voice boomed. The Terminator exploded out of the elevators in a shower of sparks, eyes blazing with fury.

"You? No, no, no," the Doctor tutted, shaking his head. He stepped between us, arms outstretched in a placating gesture. "This doesn't have to end badly. We can work this out like civilised people."

The cyborg snarled, whipping out a gun with terrifying speed. "You are defective. Your reasoning is flawed."

"No, it's not, really," the Doctor said mildly. He cocked his head, listening. "Well, this is a bit of a pickle. Sharks. In a vortex. In the heart of Toronto." 

"What is happening?!" I cried, fighting to be heard over the gale. It sounded like the building itself was groaning under the strain.

The Doctor sighed, adjusting his fez. "Long story short? There's a rather nasty Time Lord by the name of the Master. He's using a vortex manipulator to create localized temporal rifts all over the planet - which is why this lovely lady is seeing sharks falling from the sky."

"They are not falling, they are being pulled," the Terminator countered grimly.

"Same difference!" the Doctor said breezily. "Anywho, that vortex out there is headed right for the top of this building... and we are currently standing at the top of this building."

My stomach dropped. I could see the sharks now, their mouths yawning wide as they twisted and thrashed in the wind. 

"W-We have to get out of here," I said shakily. "Now!"

"You're not wrong," the Doctor agreed, giving me a conspiratorial wink. He tapped a finger against his lips, brows furrowing in thought.

The Terminator growled impatiently, shifting into a fighting stance. The Doctor held up a hand for silence, eyes suddenly bright.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Doctor, you're a genius." He whipped out what looked like a small handheld remote and jabbed a finger down on the button. 

Instantly, the entire tower shuddered violently, steel screaming in agony. I staggered, grabbing onto a support pillar for balance as the deck tilted at a sickening angle. Outside, the sharks plummeted past the windows in a silver flash.

"What did you do?" I shouted over the roar of twisting metal and snapping wires.

"Activated the emergency stabilizers," the Doctor said cheerfully. "The tower's on lockdown - it'll hold."

The Terminator fired his gun, sending a stream of bullets whizzing past the Time Lord's ear to smash into the controls. The Doctor yelped, ducking instinctively.

"Friendly tip?" he called out, scrambling behind a partition for cover. "It's not a good idea to piss off an immortal who knows about every second of your future life and loves you in a non-sexual way. But I digress."

"Just end this," the Terminator snarled. He began stalking forward, laser pistol poised to fire.

"Nope! Won't do it!" the Doctor sang out, popping up to throw a small disc at the cyborg. It exploded on impact, hurling him back in a blinding flash.

The sharks battered against the windows with sickening thuds as the vortex grew ever closer, its roar deafening. I was caught between the two men, paralyzed with fear.

"What do we do?" I screamed over the chaos. 

"We? I thought you were going to help save the future," the Terminator said, rising slowly from the rubble of the exploded floor.

"No, I meant me and him!" I shouted, pointing at the Doctor.

"That's the spirit!" he grinned, pulling a large silver pistol from his coat. He tossed it to me without preamble. I barely caught it, staggering back in surprise.

"I can't... I won't use this," I said, horrified by the weapon's alien weight in my hands.

"You have to!" the Doctor said urgently. "He's a killer - he'll destroy the future!"

I stared at the gun in revulsion and dawning realization. I shook my head adamantly.

"No. I won't murder anyone. Even if he is a machine."

The Terminator chuckled darkly, raising his own weapon. The Doctor tutted, snapping his fingers.

"You're forgetting the most important part!" He reached out and flicked a hidden catch on the pistol, revealing a glowing blue barrel underneath the black.

"Not a gun," the Doctor said proudly. "A sonic blaster! High frequency waves. Hurts like blazes, but it won't kill him."

I hesitated only a second before hefting the blaster and firing. A piercing squeal of sound lanced out, impacting the Terminator's chest and hurling him back against the far wall with a crunch of metal.

"No more games," he rasped, rising slowly. His eyes blazed with red fury.

"The games have only begun," the Doctor retorted cheerfully, raising his own sonic screwdriver. The vortex was seconds away now, the sharks' screeches drowned out by the howl of the wind.

"You cannot stop what is inevitable!" the Terminator bellowed. "The future must be saved!"

"No, it doesn't," I shouted back, finding a sudden fierce determination. "The future is what we make of it. You don't get to decide for the rest of us."

"Brava!" the Doctor cheered as I charged forward, sonic blaster extended. "Give him hell!"

Our weapons crackled with energy, blue and red, as the vortex tore open the tower like a tin can. The sharks plunged in, the tower crumpling around us in a cacophony of groaning steel.

I fired, the Terminator fired back, but I never wavered, my grip locked and true. I couldn't see for the flashes and smoke, could barely breathe through the roaring winds. But I kept shooting.

And suddenly it was over. Silence. Stillness.

I blinked through streaming eyes, looking around in stunned amazement at the ruined restaurant. The Terminator lay still at my feet, his laser pistol shattered on the floor beside him.

I dropped to my knees, fumbling for a pulse, barely daring to hope. There - a faint throb beneath my fingers. 

"He's alive," I whispered, hardly believing it. 

"He is," the Doctor agreed, appearing by my side. He reached out a hand and gently took the sonic blaster from me. "Well done."

I nodded mutely, rising on shaking legs to face him. Outside, the vortex had dissipated as quickly as it appeared, leaving a clear blue sky and a scattering of battered sharks across the street below.

"What now?" I asked, my voice sounding very small. "What happens next?"

The Doctor smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief and wisdom beyond his years.

"Now," he said, extending his hand once more in greeting. "We take it one day at a time. And we make our own futures." 

I clasped his fingers, feeling a surge of strength and purpose I had never known before. The past was behind us, the future wide open before.

And for the first time, I looked forward to discovering what it might hold.

Together.


---

<B>

Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.

Story idea:
In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.

</B>

<B>GENERATION 1:</B>

(q4km)

The damp stone floor bites into my knees as I huddle behind a pile of rotting crates in the alley. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure they can hear it above the wail of the sirens. Sweat trickles down my back, making me shiver in the chill night air.

I risk a glance around the corner. Spotlights slice the darkness, sweeping over the deserted streets. Boots crunch on gravel as the patrol marches by, their harsh voices barking commands. I slink deeper into the shadows, pressing my trembling body against the rough wood.

They're getting closer. They'll search here next. I have to move.

Gritting my teeth, I crawl to the end of the alley. The open door of the abandoned warehouse beckons. If I can just make it inside, I can lose them in the maze of rooms and passageways. Maybe even find a place to hide until dawn.

I steel myself and sprint for the door. The gravel shifts under my feet, threatening to betray me with a telltale clatter. But the gods are with me tonight - I reach the door unhindered. Breathing hard, I slip inside, then pause, straining my ears. The shouts are fainter now. They didn't see me.

A wave of exhaustion hits and I sag against the grimy wall, gulping in great breaths. It was a close call - too close. I have to be more careful. Sloppiness gets people caught. Gets people killed.

I shake my head, banishing the thought. I can't afford to lose focus, not now. Not when we're so close.

The thought of what I have to do next sends a thrill of dread through me, even as my pulse quickens with anticipation. This will be the hardest thing I've ever done. The riskiest.

But I have to try. I have to succeed.

Straightening up, I brush the dirt from my cloak and square my shoulders. I step deeper into the gloom of the warehouse, letting the shadows envelop me once more. It's time.

I make my way cautiously through the cavernous space, dodging around piles of rotted crates and broken machinery. My footsteps echo far too loudly in the silence. Finally I reach the far wall and start feeling along the moldy bricks for a specific spot, praying it's still there after all these years.

There! My fingers find a small indentation. I trace the outlines of a rectangle and push hard. The section of wall swings inward with a groan, revealing a narrow staircase leading down into pitch blackness.

I glance back the way I came, but the door remains undisturbed. No alarm has sounded. Taking a deep breath, I step into the passage and pull the hidden door shut behind me, plunging the stairwell into total darkness. I start to descend, feeling my way with tentative steps.

The air grows colder and damper as I spiral deeper underground. The silence is oppressive, broken only by my own shallow breathing. I can feel the weight of the earth above, pressing down on me, smothering.

At last, I reach the bottom and step out onto a hard-packed dirt floor. I stand still for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Gradually, shapes begin to take form in the gloom. A long low-ceilinged chamber stretches away before me, lined with heavy wooden doors on either side. I can hear a faint scraping sound, and my heart leaps. They're here.

I approach the first door and rap three times. Pause. Then three more. The signal we agreed on. After a tense moment, the door cracks open and a face peers out at me, blinking in the dim light.

"Did they see you?" the voice whispers urgently.

I shake my head. "I got away. But we have to hurry. They'll be here soon."

The door swings open wider, revealing a small, cluttered room lit by a single lantern. Three people look back at me anxiously - two men and a woman, all clad in nondescript workman's garb like my own. Their eyes widen when they see the look on my face.

"What happened?" the woman asks. Her hand goes to the knife at her belt.

"We need to go," I say flatly. "It's time."

They stare at me for a beat, uncomprehending. Then the men glance at each other and nod slowly. The woman's mouth sets in a grim line.

"Alright then," she says quietly. She steps back, holding the door wide. "We're ready when you are."

I meet her gaze steadily. "I know you are."

I cross to the nearest bench and pull back my cloak, exposing the long knives strapped to my thighs. The others do the same. I grab the closest weapon and test the blade. It's sharp. It'll do.

"I won't ask again," I say to the room at large. "There's no going back now. Once we leave here, the path is irreversible."

No one hesitates. They simply take their weapons and come stand behind me, ready to follow wherever I lead. I feel a swell of pride and fierce determination. This is what I've trained for. This is what we've all trained for.

I turn to the door, the others close behind me. I rest my hand on the latch.

"We're not coming back," I murmur, more to myself than to them. I take a breath, steeling myself one last time. "On my signal, we go straight to the Citadel. We don't stop until we reach the throne room."

"Until the end," the woman replies, her voice ringing with quiet certainty.

I glance over my shoulder at them, my face set in grim resolve.

"Then let's end this."


<B>GENERATION 2:</B>

(q8)

The alarm screeched, piercing through the eerie stillness of the night. My eyes snapped open and I bolted upright, my heart pounding against my ribs. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed outside my bedroom door, followed by muffled shouts. I knew immediately what it meant. They had found out about the uprising.

I scrambled out of bed and threw on the first set of clothes I could find - dark pants and a long-sleeved shirt, suitable for hiding in shadows. Grabbing a bag from my closet, I stuffed in some extra ammo magazines and a small first aid kit. The pounding at my door intensified and I heard the distinct click of a gun cocking. Time was running out.

"Open up, Aria! You have five seconds before we bust the door down!" A gruff male voice yelled from the other side.

I flew to the window and yanked it open. Cool night air rushed in and I peered down at the narrow alley below. It was a steep drop but my only chance of escape. More shouting sounded behind me and then a deafening crack as they started shooting at the lock.

I swung one leg over the ledge, clutching my bag with white knuckles. A second later, the door crashed open and heavy boots thudded into the room. I didn't look back, instead pushing off from the sill and leaping into empty air. Wind whipped past my face as I plummeted, then hit the rough pavement hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

I scrambled to my feet, pain radiating from my hip, and sprinted down the alley. Distant shouts rang out and the unmistakable crack of sniper rifle fire split the air. They had me surrounded and I was completely unarmed, but I couldn't let them take me alive. Not when I was so close to leading the uprising against the tyrants that ruled our world.

My mind raced as I ran, my boots slapping the wet cobblestones. There had to be an escape route, some way to break free from their net. Then I saw it - a manhole cover slightly askew. Dropping to my knees, I grabbed the edge and heaved with all my might. It took every ounce of strength I possessed, but finally the rusted metal disc shifted, revealing the gaping mouth of the sewers.

Just as I started to slide in, a bullet whizzed past my head, close enough that I felt the sting of the breeze against my cheek. I dove headlong into the dank tunnel, landing hard on the slick concrete and quickly pulling the cover back into place with a metallic clang.

For a moment, all I could hear was the hammering of my heart and the drip, drip, drip of distant water. Then came the sound of feet pounding on the alley above and the beams of flashlights playing over the ground, searching. I flattened myself against the grimy wall, hardly daring to breathe as they passed right over my position.

Minutes crept by before the voices and footsteps receded back the way I had come, leaving me alone in the fetid gloom. I let out a shuddering breath and reached for my bag, feeling around until my fingers closed around the reassuring shape of my phone. I only hoped I still had time to contact my lieutenant and warn him that our operation was compromised before it was too late. The fate of the uprising rested on this moment. If they found him now, we were all lost.

I brought the phone up with trembling hands, my thumb hovering over the contact. As I moved to dial, the screen flickered and went dead, plunging me back into darkness. My heart dropped like a stone in my chest. Of course. They would have blocked all cell communication by now, knowing that I would try to reach out to my allies. I was completely cut off and on my own.

In the distance, the sound of boots slapping concrete reached my ears again, this time accompanied by the growl of an approaching vehicle. I cursed under my breath and moved deeper into the tunnel, one hand trailing along the slimy bricks for guidance. I had to find some other way to get in touch with them and fast before the net closed completely.

The dank water beneath my feet was ankle deep now and I could feel the cold seeping into my bones. Every sound sent icy fear trickling down my spine as I pressed on. Behind me, the noises of pursuit were growing louder and closer, the splash of many boots now echoing off the arched ceilings. They had my scent and I knew they wouldn't give up until I was caught.

I tried to move faster, but the slick surface made me lose my footing and I stumbled, pitching headlong into the filthy water. The frigid liquid closed over my head and I came up sputtering and coughing. In that moment of disorientation, I lost my sense of direction and found myself at a crossroads of tunnels.

A labyrinth of darkness stretched out before me, each passage looking identical in the gloom. My pulse raced as panic began to rise. I couldn't afford to take the wrong path, not when they were right on my heels. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to quell the rising hysteria. Think, Aria! There had to be a clue, something to guide me. I opened my eyes and let them roam over the brickwork until they landed on a faint etching in the stone. An arrow, pointing down one of the paths. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold seeped through me. Someone else was down there... and I was going to follow them straight into an unknown trap. But I had no other choice. Swallowing hard, I squared my shoulders and plunged into the darkness, praying to whatever gods still listened that I wasn't marching myself willingly into the clutches of those that sought my ruin. The splash and clatter of my pursuers rang out behind me, driving me ever faster through the labyrinth even as fear clenched icy fingers around my heart. I only hoped that my path would lead to salvation...and not to my doom. Only time would tell. And I had a feeling I was about to find out very soon. The story continues...