Here's a section of the book I'm writing!

(oh and BTW, don't think I'm ripping off Panthera, The story line (if'n I'm right), is entirely different.

“No!” Daniel roared, but it was already too late, Dr. Cameron already stabbed him with the syringe, Michael’s head slumped to one side as the anesthetic slowly numbed his entire body. Daniel lunged at the doctor but was detained by the barrels of thirty automatic rifles. Dr. Cameron crowed as Daniel frantically thought of an escape plan, but nothing came to him. He was trapped by the one who knew him most, the doctor. Daniel’s tail began to sag as he slowly realized what had just happened: he had failed. After years of serving the King, learning his ways, countless months waiting for the day Michael would begin his journey, Daniel had let Michael, his fellow agents, and even the King down. Daniel lowered his ears, showing his submission to the doctor and the truth.
“Finally you give up! How long did it take you to realize that this day was inevitable? The King knew this would come, yet he didn’t tell you! He didn’t tell you that you would fail did he? And wasn’t it because of the King that you are now who you are? Without your, “King”, you could still be human, you could still enjoy what it feels like to walk into a restaurant and order a meal with out people calling the police!” Dr. Cameron mocked. Daniel let the words seep in his mind. “Who let you believe that you could save countless lives by “redeeming” this boy?” Daniel hung his head. His life long dream was pierced through the heart and it slowly crumbled with every word by the doctor.
“Tie that miserable beast up!” Dr. Cameron ordered, “lock him in the holding cell away from the others!” Ten of the thirty barrels dropped to follow the doctor’s orders. Daniel looked up helplessly at one of the guards and was answered with the butt of a gun to the head.

When Daniel had woken up again, his first thought was where was Michael? But then he remembered what had happened, and he cried. For the first time in fifteen years, he cried. His mission failed, his friend was gone, who knows what happened to his fellow men who he took on the mission with him. Not even the names of the King gave him comfort anymore. Had the King really intend for all this to happen? The King foresaw a boy who had the power to change the world, or kill it. His majesty chose Daniel, one of an extremely large group from the ST division, but one of the lesser known sections, Section 17. He was chosen to lead this mission, the mission that could save the undecided and lost, or damn them forever. All his comrades from Section 17 were on this mission, and even a few from Section 12. Sean, Quinn, Remmy, all were his friends and all of them he hadn’t heard from since the ambush. Daniel got up off the cold floor, his head throbbed and Daniel fell again.


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“Wh-where am I?” Michael asked the doctor, still groggy from the anesthetic.
“You, my little friend, are where you begin your new life.” Said Dr. Cameron, “You will be transformed into a killing machine, one who will destroy any and all in your path. You will become king of this world, and tomorrow, we start your training.”
“Training?” Wondered Michael.
“Yes, training. You will learn the art of killing, and you will learn to lock away all your emotions of guilt, regret and remorse. And you will begin to change into the weapon you will become starting…” the doctor pulled out a needle, “now!” and jabbed it into Michael’s neck, just missing the previous needle's entry wound.
“But then what was in that first–”
“Just an anesthetic. If I injected the formula before, you would have gone into cardiac arrest and died. And you are probably wondering why you aren’t dying now right? Well, while you slept through who knows what kind of nightmares, my assistants slipped you a stabilizing drug, essential to keep you and your heart from failing during the transformation. Tell me, do you feel any different?”
“Not rea–” Michael was cut off, his tongue had stopped working. Was it the formula? No, it was another anesthetic in the syringe.
“Good night my boy, you will begin your training when you wake up.”
Michael collapsed and had a dreamless sleep.



P.S. Comments are appreciated

O, For a muse to be commented on...

Interesting stuff, man. Would definitely like to see more. It's still a bit young, so I can't give too much of a perspective yet (not sure who any of these characters are?), but I'm intrigued.

Most of my quibbles are stylistic. For instance, the paragraph with the most information feels like a background-dump--and you might want to edit the sentence: "Daniel got up off the cold floor, his head throbbed and Daniel fell again." You could use to do a punctuation check as well (though this is mostly fine). Also, I'd suggest breaking up the doctor's long rants with some description. Setting would help a lot here. Daniel, for instance, has a tail, but I have no idea why. This could be intentional, but if so, I'd like to see where you go next--is this an in media res thing, where you'll go back to show it? If so, you might want to leave more mystery, and cut the info-dump. If not, you'll need to explain things (preferably without a rant or run-on) quickly--it's important for people to be able to picture the scene and the characters.

Mostly, I'd like to see more! ^^

Thanks D.Z.! I should have a bit more done in a few weeks or so...

Chapter 1
“How many more days dad?” Michael asked as he collapsed onto the bed, weary from a hard day’s work.
“Today was the last day son. Tomorrow we pack and head home,” replied a voice from the bathroom. “Boy I can’t wait to head home where a warm breeze doesn’t mean a power plant exploded!”
Michael sat up and turned towards the bathroom, “You tired of Russia dad?” Questioned Michael teasingly.
“No, I’m tired of this damn cold air! I love Russia as a country; its got beautiful architecture, and damn good literature!” Michael’s dad exclaimed, he had just recently read a copy of The Brothers Karamazov.
“I really wish you wouldn’t curse dad.” Said Michael, a little annoyed that his dad’s tongue had gone south every passing year of age.
“Hush up and go schedule us some shower!” ordered Michael’s dad, muttering something to himself about teenagers.

Slowly, Michael stood up, still weary from hiking through snow all day. “Aye, Aye captain,” he said while saluting jokingly. As Michael exited the room he suddenly got a sensation. Not the fuzzy tingly kind but the kind that you get when you know that something really wonderful or extremely dreadful is going to happen. Michael stood in the middle of the hall way, contemplating what the feeling when and whether or not it was for better or worse. Michael hurried down to the front desk, scheduled a shower time, and quickly rushed back to his hotel room, almost as if the dreadful event was following him through the hotel.
“Wow, that was fast…” a voice called from the bed.
“It was um… cold in the main lobby, you know… the main door is right there,” Michael fibbed, he wasn’t sure why he lied to his dad, but something felt like in he told him, the sensation would turn sour if at all it was ever good.
“So, when are we scheduled for showers?” Michael’s dad questioned.
“The only time left was at 6 o’ clock.”
“Great… just great… The only chance I get to sleep in this whole trip and it gets thwarted by Russian heating coils!” Michael’s dad let out a sigh being as dramatic as possible.
“Don’t worry dad, you can sleep on the plane. It is a 33 hour flight after all.” Said Michael, knowing that at once they were airborne, nothing would wake his dad except for the jerk of the landing gear hitting “good ol’ ‘merican soil” as his dad would sometimes call it.
“Humph,” grunted his dad as he rolled under the covers of the bed. Might as well hit the sack too I suppose, Michael thought as he changed into his pajamas and nudged his dad to scoot over. Crawling into bed, Michael wondered what the sensation meant, but Michael was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

P.S. More or less a "Chapter 1"