Young Writers Society

THE BEGINNING~

Prologue

There was a flash of white as he rounded a corner and through the damp, dark corridors. His lab coat trailed behind him like a phantom, as if haunting his every step. Breathless and anxious, he heard another crash and immediately quickened his pace. The ragged, shallow gasps coming from him could be heard throughout the entire mansion. Another flash. He rounded several corners briskly. Ahead of him, at the end of the hallway, a mahogany door suddenly appeared out of thin air- almost as if by magic. Radiant blue, purple, and white sparks shone brightly through the cracks of the door, revealing something chaotic was happening behind it.
"No," The man whispered, horror widening his emerald green gaze. He stopped a few feet away from the door- his snow, white lab coat swishing behind him. This can't be happening. I've made sure to securely-"
Immediately, his sentence was cut off as a strong gust of wind swept him off his feet and sent him flying through the air until he slammed against the stone brick walls behind him. The man narrowed his eyes as he sensed what was about to happen next. He could not move nor blink as the harsh winds kept him rooted against the wall.
The door practically exploded, sending splinters flying everywhere, bright fluorescent lights shining in his eyes and blinding him temporarily. Red spots danced across his eyes and he shook his head vigorously, trying to dispose of his temporary loss of sight. He blinked, suddenly visualizing seven blurry figures surrounding him. Each wore a sly grin and their shadowed bodies flickered and shimmered.
His heart fell as he recounted. Yes. There are seven figures. Clearing his throat, which of course did not help because his voice was still hoarse as he spoke, he said, "There are more like me, young ones," The man coughed. "And although I will be no more, they will continue our fight. We will stop you, no matter what. There is no room for S.I.N. in this world." The green eyed man glared defiantly and drew his thumb across his heart in the shape of an X. It was the sign of the Synthes.
Be gone now, Dmitri Grey. Your fight in this battle is over, The seven Spirits whispered, each of their voices blending into one unity. Their voices ricocheted against the walls and bounced back, hissing threateningly into Dmitri's ears. But he did not cringe nor flinch. He merely stood his ground, eyes closed and a hand placed gently over his heart.
It's over, They said in unison. One by one, the figures opened their fists and extended their arms, each pointing their palms towards Dmitri. But not for us.
Blazes of light blasted from their palms and shot towards Dmitri, who opened his eyes to stare right into its embers and smile crookedly. There was a flash. There was a supersonic boom. And then there was darkness.

Hey Disenchanted!

Okay, lets get into it:
I got excited when I read the beginning of this sentence - there is just one thing, though:

There was a flash of white as he rounded a corner and through the damp, dark corridors.

I think it would make more sense to say as he rounded a (or even, 'the') corner and went (you could use another word, like stepped, sneaked or ran) through the damp, dark corridors.

'Like a phantom' that's a very cool simile.

Another flash.

The use of this short sentence really builds suspence, which is good, and I'm thinking, what you want.

his snow, white lab coat

you don't need a comma after snow.

The door practically exploded

here, practically is used. Generally, the word is used in a more familiar sense - when the novel is in first person, for example. In your case, I would change it to something more straightforward. The door drastically exploded? You could even scrap the word 'exploded' and say something else that means the same thing: the door suddenly burst into a million pieces? Million being hyperbole, obviously.

The rest of it is quite good. I don't like reading about this topic, hands down, but at the moment, it's okay.

The name is actually perfect now that I think about it. Because that's what it's going to be, yeah? A big chase.

As to where to take your story, I would honestly, in your shoes, do something like the typical ten years later...
You know, get his son to carry off. That opens up a big void for mystery and revealing secrets. The boy, who is probably fifteen, sixteen (or older/younger if you want) is curious to know whether his father actually did die by drowning in the river (or whatever), and his mother, who passed away from sickness earlier that year never told him. So he does what any other curious boy would do and ransacks his father's personal documents that have been hidden in his house.

Something like that anyway...it's just an idea.

Good luck!

NightWriter x