|
|
TitaniumAlloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
posted June 09, 2006 11:44 AM |
|
|
Shadows
“Goldmine. This one better pay up big, Jon.” Raven said. “Had to pull more than a few favours.”
He took a deep drag of his cigarette so that it burned fast, dropped it, and put it out on the concrete floor.
“Nice shoes.” Jon replied. The room was dim; the fluorescent light of Raven’s basement struggled to reach either wall.
“Dammit Jon, this one’s the big one, I’m telling you!” Raven lit up again. Jon smiled.
“Who’s the guy?” He had always hated the stench of the smoke, but it was inevitable whenever he used the concealed entrance to get to the basement. And the guardsmen were out the front tonight.
The Sitian guardsmen were constantly on Raven’s back, as he was a fence. He found new deals, houses, people to hit, and sold off the ‘hot’ goods from his clients, but never had enough evidence on him to be convicted. And Jon was his number one. He was reliable, can’t be caught. If he could he would have been dead years ago, and has become somewhat of a legend in the city of Site, a myth, almost. After all, if it wasn’t for his type, the thieves, the hitmen… there would be no riches. But his reputation precedes him, and Jon often wound up annoyed at the old man.
“General Levy’s apartment.” Raven said through his cigarette. “Ask anyone on the streets they’ll tell you the exact place, after all who has a mansion like that nowadays? Stinks of corruption.”
“Communism has never worked, Raven, you know that. Jealousy, on the other hand, is a sin.” He looked at him with a sarcastic smile. God, he hated religion. “You think this one’ll win big?” Jon drew a small blade from his boot and cleaned his nails apathetically. The military were easy targets; they could take out the Arjan invaders with their command, but can’t set up a basic alarm system on their own front door, they get a god complex when they’re off the frontlines.
Raven wasn’t impressed.
“You’ll be needing to take him out. This guy’s a hotshot, if he finds out this thing is missing he won’t stop until the whole Sitian army was turned on it.” A specific item… this was a breath of fresh air. Jon looked up.
“Sounds exciting. What am I getting for you?”
With that, Raven peered into Jon’s grayed eyes, and a wide smile cracked across his face.
“This won’t be easy, Jon. You’re going for the Relic.”
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
|
TitaniumAlloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
|
posted June 12, 2006 02:22 PM |
|
|
Later that night Jon retreated from the basement to the shadows of the street, and begun search for the General’s apartment. Raven only gave names, not locations, or even times for that matter. At first it was irritating, especially when it nearly god Jon killed, but that was years ago now. It'd take alot more than mere ignorance now.
Up the concrete steps and into the streets, the local drug addicts sat in the back alleys as predicted, inhaling whatever they could find, backs blistering up against the nailed doors of the innocent houses they infested. Then the guardsmen, clean shaven, bolt rifles slung over shoulder, smoking, kicking away the vagrants, laughing, bragging... 'It was you who put them there.'
Jon walked up to one of the guardsmen. A tall, young man, probably in his early twenties.
"Yeah?" The stupid grin of youth faded away as the man took notice of Jon's approach. "Don't you have a bank to work for?" He laughed again, and looked to his peers for approval, as they lazed under the streetlight.
"Don't you have a duty to serve, or some homework to do, little boy?" The man stood up straight. "That's right, civilians can be patronizing too." Jon reached for the star on the guardsman's shoulder, but he withdrew quickly. "This badge... 23rd Watchman's, am I right?"
"That's right. Nothing you'll ever amount to. What do you want, you're distracting us from protecting you!" Another stupid voice from behind, as the dark skinned mouth it came from took another gulp of a bottle held up high. They laughed again.
"Like you'd know, Petty Officer. Get up before I have to blow my cover even more blatantly, and don't make me make you salute." The man rolled his eyes.
"Alpha One Two Eighty, this is Spec Ops agent 23." Jon whispered into a non-existant comlink in his empty jacket. The men jumped up straight. The way it was supposed to be. Jon looked up. "That's what I thought. Now I'm looking for General Levy, and if you kids don't let me know I'll have more than a little something to report about the street maintainance, catch my drift?"
An older guardsman, possibly even thirty, stepped forward.
"Master General Levy doesn't work weekends, let alone at three. What do you want with him? I can patch you through to headquarters."
Jon looked him in the eye. His voice cleverly disguised his fear.
"Just tell me where I can find him."
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
|
TitaniumAlloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
|
posted June 13, 2006 03:46 PM |
|
|
Left at the second, first on your right. The streetlights were as repetitive as the apartments beside them; they struck their rays upon the pavement and Jon was careful to avoid. Someone would be watching… there were cameras. Someone always watched.
He turned left at the second, and there it was. It wasn’t a typical apartment; it was only two floors, but they were vast, must have been especially commissioned. It was nothing special on the outside, but it stood out well enough from the monotonous grey buildings that seemed endless in these parts.
Jon stuck close to the wall, and headed for the front entrance. As envisaged, a thin black wire framed the wooden door before snaking its way around the corner. Jon followed it, as routine as any other apartment, and found the security keypad sticking out just edged from the corner.
A flick of his wrist and a steel blade switched out. Like an extension of his arm, Jon used it to pry under the plastic casing of the keypad.
The lid fell off, revealing the contents. There were the wires, the rubber buttons of the numbers all lined up… and a faint red light in the corner of the keypad, glowing, almost in fear as Jon carelessly closed in with his knife. It took but a quick slash of the wire casing, a twist of the copper and the light blinked off. It was time to go in.
Knowing that the Relic was in there, the holiest of artifacts to all Sitians… just the thought made Jon’s blood pump with adrenaline. He flicked the knife back, pulled up the cloth over his mouth, jumped up and grabbed onto the window sill above. They must have thought that no one would guess they would leave it in an officer’s house. He pulled himself up, the cloth muffling his grunts as he struggled. Holding on with one bent arm, he flicked out the knife once more and slid it under the window frame; a confirming click told him that it was open. He pushed it up with the free hand and pulled himself in, and soft moonlight flooded the otherwise dark room as he leaped carefully to the floor. His shadows danced across the floor as he regained his balance silently.
He ducked down under the windowsill on the inside, and quickly pulled the window back to keep from awaking anyone who might be around.
I’m in. He surveyed the surroundings, he was in some sort of living room. Any other occasion and this would have been incredible… a huge television was the showpiece of the room, surrounded by extravagant furniture and artwork sitting on the mahogany floorboards. Made him sick… but he was not here for this tonight. Greater deals were at play. Jon lifted his foot and took one easy step out into the room.
And then stopped: there was a sound. Not too far off. Foreign footsteps, one, two, and then a halt. Blood rose to Jon’s face, prickling his skin under the heat.
The General was awake.
He had to move. The footsteps started again, approaching ominously, like a hunter stalking its prey. It was time to become the hunter. Lure him in, and come around from behind… Jon picked one of the salubrious wine bottles from the rack, and held it tightly in his palm, his knife in the other. There were two doors leading into the room, it was from the left the footsteps were impending. Jon walked to the door straight ahead, his feet making no sound upon the floor as he crouched over. When he reached the door, he cast the bottle as hard as he could behind him, and ran quickly through the empty sitting room. The relic could wait; that officer needs to be silenced. He flicked out his knife, and peered warily around the corner. An empty bedroom with but one light on. Just as planned… he had taken the bait. Jon crept through the room, and again, peered back into the first room. And there he was, the target. A grey haired, balding man in his fifties stood with his back to Jon in the living room, wearing a military uniform, which was strange for someone up at midnight.
Jon stood up, back to the wall. He pulled his cloth down from over his mouth, readied his blade, and crept into the room. His breaths were short and quick. The General took two steps towards a wine stained chair, while Jon timed his quick steps with him, to avoid detection. He got up close behind him, his stealth as rewarding as ever. He held his breath, and when the General lifted his foot once more, Jon leapt up for the attack.
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
|
TitaniumAlloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
|
posted June 13, 2006 03:50 PM |
|
|
He grabbed the man swiftly by his head, smothering his mouth and pulling it back to expose his throat. Drawing his blade, he pressed it to the General’s skin, so that it only made a slight incision on the surface. Jon’s heart was racing, but the pulsating vein of his victim showed surprising calm for someone who’s blood is soon to be spilled. But Jon didn’t spill it; the blade was poised like the fang of a snake, ready to strike… just needed one cut to sever, and it would be done.
“You can’t do it Jon, you know that.” The man carelessly pulled Jon’s hand down from his mouth and pointed to the corners of the ceiling. Jon noticed four cameras, all watching, following his every move. This guy even knew his name… Raven hadn’t said anything about surveillance. “I’ve got the place surrounded with a shoot-to-kill order. If you kill me you’ll never make it out alive.” Damn the military. Damn Raven. Damn him. Someone always watched.
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
|
RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
|
|
posted June 14, 2006 02:24 AM |
|
|
filler post
____________
Go Red Sox!
|
|
TitaniumAlloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
|
posted June 16, 2006 12:47 PM |
|
|
“But I didn’t bring you here to die, snake,” the General said dryly. Snake… no one had taunted him with that name for years. “Lower your blade.”
“I’ve been set up…” Jon cursed, under his breath. He furrowed his forehead, he had never been caught like this before, but the old man had planned this from the start.
“So you are as… sharp as they say.” The General said, almost spitefully. Jon lowered his blade, but didn’t withdraw it. The General walked over to the high backed chair and sat down at the desk.
Jon looked either side of him; there was no escape. Disgrace overwhelmed him, he was trapped with nowhere to go, and by this man, no other.
The General cleared his throat, and wound his fingers together as if in thought, but Jon saw it as an act of truce.
“I need you to get something for me.” His intentions were finally being revealed.
“I don’t work for you… sir,” Jon said with mock respect.
“I need you to get the Relic. From the Temple.” So the Relic wasn’t even here. “What, did you really think that we’d leave it here, in an unguarded house?” The way he said it made Jon feel like a fool… Raven must have been deceived. So it was the Relic again.
“And you think you can make me help you?” Jon still stood there, staring down this officer, this king on his leather throne.
”Well I got you here didn’t I?” This wasn’t coercion, this was a mind game. Jon looked around the room.
”So, how many Arjans do I have to kill to get a place like this?” Jon grinned. If it was a game, Jon was determined to win.
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
|
TitaniumAlloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
|
posted June 18, 2006 03:04 PM |
|
|
“Thirty, give or take.” Jon was taken aback. It was the General’s turn to smile. “Arjan invaders have taken control of the Site Temple overnight. We suspect they were in a chopper, through a breach in our air security, but however they did it, they threaten to raze the place unless we comply. Can’t send the military in, or we’ll compromise the Temple, and that blasted Relic. I don’t need to tell you the devastating effect that would have on the people. We need someone who can get in there undetected. We need someone who theoretically doesn’t exist… we need you.” Jon dropped his blade; the sweat covered handle slipped easily from his palm and stuck out from the floorboards. “Get in, get the Relic, get out, and kill anyone in your path. The place is crawling with Arjans, but if anyone can do it, it’s you, snake. You’re the only one.”
Jon took a deep breath. “I can’t stand you people.”
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
|
Shadowcaster
Honorable
Supreme Hero
Shaded Scribe
|
|
posted June 23, 2006 12:18 AM |
|
|
Interesting story. Definitely QP-worthy if you can keep it going for a while. Hopefully this'll get the Glade out of the fantasy setting and into a more modern genre. Or at least something that's not medieval. 
</filler>
____________
>_>
|
|
TitaniumAlloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
|
posted June 23, 2006 09:52 AM |
|
|
“I know why you do this.” His voice was imposing, the pathetic frame of his aged body did his character no justice. The man stood up. “Why you risk your life like this, on other people’s word: it’s in your nature. You need to stare down the barrel of a gun. Here’s your gun, Jon. Take it.”
He picked up a large rifle from under the desk. The imposing scope gave its make away as a trademark; it was a Venom Sniper. A lethal gun, brought silent death from the shadows. That was Jon.
The General walked over and handed it to him. It was lightweight, smooth, but he could tell it was powerful. The General stepped back.
Jon cocked the gun. It was loaded. The sound from the magazine chamber was so fulfilling, so dreadful; he now knew what made these people think they were god.
He hoisted it up to eye level, and placed the Generals head between the crosshairs. It was rare to merely see such a gun, let alone hold one.
“If you won’t do this for me, no, for your country, then you might as well kill me now.” The General had his hands behind his back, not to draw a blade, but to surrender.
Jon had him in his sights… all he had to do was pull the trigger. His heart pounded.
He lowered the gun.
“When do I strike?”
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
|
titaniumalloy
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Professional
|
|
posted July 21, 2006 01:53 PM |
|
|
Into the Fire
The rough concrete of the roof was harsh for comfort as Jon lay down behind the low wall which provided a makeshift viewing area.
There was a gap in the wall where he could slide the sniper through, and just enough room for a wide view. Jon peered down the scope.
It was a sunny day which made it hard to see, but the bustling cars and traffic around the Temple were hauntingly absent. The police had not only sealed off the perimeter of what was now Arjan territory, but had manned it with enough gunfire that they could without compromising the safety of the Temple, hence the Relic.
Jon zoomed in on the guardsmen. They had elites, and automatic riflemen at every entrance and all along the walls, and daunting mounted turrets at every situation which wouldn't cause a crossfire to shred up the precious pillars of the Temple.
The invaders weren't going anywhere, no one was. It was a complete standstill, which was going exactly to the Arjan plan; invoke democracy in which they have a strong upper hand.
Even though their job was to prevent this at all costs, the men couldn't, and wouldn't let Jon past the barricades. That was his second obstacle.
His first?
He aimed the sniper up higher to the Arjan positioned at the North East entrance.
He zoomed up, so he could see the whole body of the man.
He zoomed up again. Body armour, powerful weaponry. Short range, and heavily destructive. Behind the bulletproof helmet was his face, the face of the timer. The face was so different, foreign, their wasn't malevolence in his eyes, but something else... duty. But he was just the timer. Once this man is down, the clock starts ticking.
The armour was weak at the neck. Jon lined him up, and fired.
The rocketed forward with astonishing subtlety, and with nothing but a weak splatter of blood and a stifled cry, the man fell to the ground, concealed behind the stony pillar.
It was time to go.
____________
John says to live above hell.
|
| |
|
|
