Post by Richard El Britannia on Jun 13, 2007 12:19:25 GMT
Name: This Ugly Existence
Type of writing: Prose
Subject: Human evolution
Genre: Sci-Fi
Summary: The human race is evolving. Ordinary people are changing, but is the world ready for what is in store?
Status: Still being written
Okay, need opinions and stuffs. I wanna rewrite this part, making it better and more in-depth.
Chapter One ~ This Ugly Beginning
Eric dragged his way through the crowds, buffeted this way and that, barely even seen by the overwhelming crowd. The town centre always seemed so very busy all of the time. Eric wondered if he’d ever see the place quiet and empty. Well, he used to wonder. In the seemingly distant past, his head would always be full of different thoughts, full of curiosity. Not now. For a long time, pain and agony had latched onto Eric, forcing him down into the depths of his own mind; his prison; his Hell.
Gun fire wailed through the crowds. The rattle of machine guns could be heard plainly all around. Screams arose from within the crowd and people struggled, forcing for a way to escape. With a hard crash, Eric was flung to the floor by one of the terrified people fleeing. Eric looked up slowly; barely aware of what was happening.
“What … is wrong with this world?” He asked the crying sky. He curled into a ball and shivered on the cold, hard ground. He wanted to cry, but he felt dry inside. Dry and empty. He just sat there in the crowd shivering silently, ignoring the crazed mass of people and those that tripped over his seemingly lifeless body.
Even in the pack of terrified people, Eric felt alone.
“There surely is no justice, is there?” He asked himself, laughing mockingly into his knees … and then it all stopped; the screaming, the gun shots, the pounding feet.
He pushed himself up slowly, weak arms trembling, and looked around. Everything had stopped moving. The darkened sky which gave birth to tiny drops of rain had stopped. The rain was somehow suspended in midair before his very eyes. The large, open square was totally quiet. Eric spun around, confused. Despite his confusion, he relished the quiet, though. Looking up to the old, stone buildings and the row of trees lining the square, he started to feel a tiny piece of his old emotions of happiness and joy; the emotions of a time when he was truly at peace.
It had been so long since he had actually looked around and took in what he saw. Previously, he just floated around, staring at the floor. He then caught a glimpse of the men with the guns, clothed all in black and wearing balaclavas. Terrorists, it seemed to him.
Like a roar in silence, the wailing of gunfire and the screams suddenly started again and the world became mobile once more. Then it struck him: what had just happened?
He rubbed a hand through his long, brown hair and looked around, plainly confused. People still carried on to storm past him in an attempt to escape, but he just didn’t care. He had to know what happened; try as he might, however, he couldn’t reason it out. He rubbed his chin in thought and after a few seconds, he decided to move.
Whatever had happened back in the square, he just had to find out what it was. In staying there, he knew he’d probably end up dying, which he could not let happen. ‘Not yet.’
Marc sat rigidly on the edge of the large, squishy chair. He often enjoyed lazing about on that chair, thinking about things that popped into his mind. Often, the girl he loved, Jenna, and her beautiful face, her full, rouge lips, her - ‘Argh! I’ve got to stop letting my mind drift!’ He thought in frustration.
Even so, the anger he felt quickly left him. He couldn’t be angry with himself too long, especially with what was being aired on the television. In the town square, a riot had begun, by the looks of things.
Marc’s focus quickly dissipated again when he heard the front door of the house opening. The lanky, nineteen year old wasted no time in jumping out of the chair and making a run for the hallway. At the end of the hallway, a dark haired girl wearing an equally dark skirt and a white shirt was closing the door. Marc continued to run though the hallway and flung his arms around her. Before she even had time to think, he dragged her into the living room and directed her to the television.
“Have you seen this, Jenna?” He asked, somewhat anxiously, although the excitement he felt was still showing strongly. “This is in the town square!” He was almost jumping up and down like a small child would.
Jenna, startlingly beautiful, stared up at him for a second, still confused with what was happening. “Hello Marc,” She said, smiling. She gently pushed him down onto the chair and lounged on him. “Now, what did you say?” She asked lazily, snuggling down.
Marc peered down at her for a second with wide eyes and then suddenly started waving his arms wildly. “Terrorists! Riot! Town square!” He shouted, hurriedly. He really did seem like a small child.
Jenna laughed at Marc’s comedic dance and continued to look up at him. As far as she was concerned, Marc was a lot more interesting than what was on the television.
Marc calmed down a little and looked at her with mock disappointment. “Can’t you be even in the slightest bit shocked, Jenna?” He asked, jokingly. He did just love to look at her and her beautiful, round face, her lovely inviting lips, those big, dark eyes like deep pools, seemingly endless.
Jenna laughed and blushed, poking Marc in the chest softly. She finally turned her head around to look at the television. Marc realised what was being shown again.
Terrorists seemed to be shooting randomly at the throng of people in the town square. From what Marc could tell, there seemed to be about twenty or so, randomly slaughtering innocent people.
The atmosphere in the room quickly changed. “Marc … This is terrible,” Jenna said, anxiously. She pushed herself up and went to sit on a free chair next to Marc’s.
***
Admittedly, Jenna knew her attention wasn’t still completely on the television. She wanted to sit on Marc’s lap still and look up into his bright, blue eyes. She knew that a lot of girls had never thought that he was very attractive and a thought he was strange, but for some reason Jenna loved the lanky, messy haired geek.
She looked over at him, smiling despite what she had just seen on the television, but he just stared at the television, transfixed with wide eyes. ‘Stop staring at him, bubblehead,’ she thought, as she turned her head to look at the television.
The terrorists were just dropping lifelessly to the floor. Jenna and Marc’s confused gazes met as they turned their heads from the television.
The sirens of the police cars echoed through the streets as they sped through the seemingly empty town. Their target was where the terrorists were; the town centre. It seemed too easy. This worried Gerald Mari, an old investigator in his early sixties, both suspicious and cautious in nature. Serving in the force for such a long time had made him into such a person. Gerald was an untrusting man and always looking for underlying meanings to everything. Something such as what was happening in the town centre perplexed Gerald. In his experience, terrorists had behaved much more differently to how the ones in the town centre were. Their strategy was ill-conceived and potentially suicidal.
He rubbed his bald head tiredly and peered at the policeman who was driving the car and sat next to him. He frowned at him thoughtfully, as if trying to peer into his mind.
As they got to the town centre, he noticed a rowdy mob of people crowding the area and policemen holding them back and taping off the area. Pushing through the throng of people, followed by an escort of policemen, he went to the person who was seemingly in charge. He dressed like an average policeman in the navy blue uniform, but his conical helmet had a different emblem from the average policeman.
“What’s going on here?” Gerald demanded, brushing off his suit as if the crowds of people had made it dirty. “Where are the bloody terrorists?”
The high ranking policeman obviously knew who Gerald was. Most people in the police force did. Gerald was an incredibly high ranking investigator, and one of the longest serving men on the force, after all. “Sir, the name is Benz,” He said, saluting formally. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir!”
“I didn’t ask for your name, man! What’s going on?”
“Sorry, sir,” He replied, feeling slightly dejected. “Well, sir … It seems that all of the terrorists were … murdered. Eye-witnesses say they just saw the terrorists … dying.”
Gerald looked past Benz and he finally saw the scene on the town square. Blood stained the ground and the corpses of the terrorists lay, scattered around. Some missing limbs; some heads.
Gerald’s old, winkled face scrunched up as he frowned disbelievingly at the scene. How did they all just die, and how in such a way? Something just didn’t add up. The anger that Gerald felt at not understanding simply fuelled his burning determination.
“The mission went well, Captain,” a well-spoken voice said.
“As expected. Return to base soon,” a hoarse voice replied.
Alexander flipped the phone shut and stuffed it into a spare pocket on his dark trench coat. He leant against a damp wall in the dingy alleyway and pulled out a small comb from within his coat. He began to comb his long hair back, but a loud, raucous voice made him stop midway.
“Oi, gimme ya fuggin’ money,” the voice demanded as a figure came into the small amount of light before Alexander. The hulking, unshaven man that stood before him held out a long knife as he came closer and closer before him.
Alexander simply put the comb calmly back into his coat and looked the man up and down, mockingly. “Go away,” he said simply.
The man roared something Alexander didn’t quite catch and flung himself at him, attempting to stab him. Alexander didn’t fall; it was the stinking man who fell. His head rolled on the floor before his body met the ground, too.
“Filth,” Alexander muttered, cleaning the blade of a long, curved sword with the man’s coat. He slowly stood up and sheathed his sword, which hung next to another identical one at his waist. “Filth …”
Chapter 2 (Not finished)
Eric stumbled down the fairly empty streets and collapsed against a wall. He had been running furiously in a desperate bid to escape and carry on living.
The rain was falling quickly now, puddles forming in the dents in the ground. The ground in that area of town was imperfect, much like everything else there. Buildings were decrepit, long since yearning for demolition, but it had never come. That area of town had been simply left to waste. Nobody truly knew how or why it had got that way, but what most knew was that that area of town was run primarily by gangs. Murder, theft, prostitution and other crimes were commonplace and the police force had absolutely no hold there. Eric had made his home in that place.
Eric took in deep breaths and bent down to roll up his increasingly soaking brown trousers. His black shirt was clinging to him now, as was his hair to his head. Flinging his head back in an attempt to get the hair out of his face, he noticed a group of men nearing. One was in the centre, wearing a rich-looking suit, surrounded by larger, more haggard-looking men who were holding umbrellas to shelter the man they grouped around. ‘Shit, why’s David here?’
Eric pushed himself off the wall and stood to face David and his rough-looking entourage. “David,” he said, feeling slightly anxious. His worry didn’t show in his face, however; he simply wore his usual, depressed expression.
“Eric,” David said in a creepily delighted tone. David’s voice – despite being a gang leader – was rather high pitched. He moved in to hug Eric, who didn’t return the hug, but David’s seemingly happy mood didn’t dissipate. His thin lips actually twisted into more of a smile. “Ah, Eric, you are grumpy today, aren’t you? Just get over the girl, kid.”
Eric’s eyes widened and anger began to flood over him, which he couldn’t stop from showing in his expression. David sensed this and sighed. “Listen, I just came to say you still owe money. You’ve been living in your little … house for a long time without paying. It’s only since I like you I’m not taking things too seriously. Yet.” David’s smile twisted even more and his bright green eyes shone, maliciously.
Anger consumed Eric at this point. He just couldn’t resist and he let it flood him like a burst dam. And everything just stopped. Like before, in the town centre, time froze and nothing moved. David stood there, his face centimetres away from his own with that insufferable smile across his face. This time, the freezing of time didn’t shock him; instead he clenched his fist tightly and thrust it out in an attempt to punch David in the face. Instead, his hand went right through David and he crashed to the floor, thrown off-balance. Time suddenly snapped back and Eric sat on the floor a few paces from David, looking at him with great concern.
David’s eyes widened when he noticed Eric wasn’t in front of him. His head spun and he noticed Eric sitting in a puddle to the left of him. “H-how did you get there, kid?”
Eric gulped and slowly got up as David and his gang closed in on him.
“I think we’ve found what one of the people Biggs is looking for,” David muttered, half to himself, half to the gang. “Go get him. We’ll be paid through the nose!” David cackled as the huge thugs lumbered after Eric. Eric wasted no time sticking around, though, and started sprinting down the street from the men.
“Damn, he’s quick …” David muttered to himself as he watched the ape-like men attempting to run after him. He walked further up the battered street to a shiny, black BMW. He took a key out of his pocket, opened the door and got into the car.
Marc walked slowly down a path of dirt, surrounded by trees and littered with golden and brown leaves. Light poked its way through gaps in the canopy overhead, but the path was mostly shaded in the afternoon sun. Drops of water from the rain earlier dripped quietly from the leaves and small puddles were formed on the path.
Alongside Marc, walked Jenna who held his hand gently. They would often walk through the forest together, rain or shine. It was a sort of tradition the two had since they had both met in there. As they continued to walk, birds sung to each other and fluttered overhead.
Eventually, they came to fork. One path kept going straight on, out to a large, open field of overgrown grass with the occasional tree dotted about; the other path led further into the forest. They ignored the latter and walked to the field.
Despite how wet the grass was they managed to find a nice, dry spot beneath a large oak tree. This was the spot they usually sat at whenever they came here.
“You know, it worries me,” Marc said. “What happened on the TV. I can’t get it out of my head.” Marc sat rather stiffly against the trunk of the huge oak.
Jenna looked at him curiously. “Come on, just relax. It’s not good, sure, but it’s not affected us, has it?”
“Well, it’s just worrying. I mean, how can a bunch of people just … drop dead like that?” Marc looked at Jenna, as if looking for an answer, but before he knew what hit him, she was kissing him fiercely.
For a second, she parted her lips from his. “Now, you will stop with all this worrying?” That came as more of a demand than a question.
“Oi!” A loud voice erupted behind them both, suddenly. Whilst embracing, they had not noticed three rather sinister-looking men approach. All of them stood quite tall, except one, who made up for height with fat. “How’d a nice little thing like you end up with that?” One of the taller men said to Jenna, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up, roughly.
Marc instantly jumped into the air, spun, and kicked the man round the side of the head, sending him flying through the air and landing with a crash a few paces away. The other two men stared wide-eyed at Marc in both fear and confusion as he landed.
Jenna wasted no time in running behind Marc and sniffling slightly. She still hadn’t totally realised what Marc had just done. She was just glad to be away from the men.
The two men left looked at each other then ran at Marc together, both pulling out knives. Marc dodged both of the men’s attempted attacks, gracefully and punched both in their stomachs, sending them soaring through the air like their counterpart.
The three men lay scattered about, unconscious in the grassy field where Marc and Jenna used to spend a lot of time at. Then it hit him: how had he just done that? The sheer strength in which he hit those men was comparable to being hit by a car, he estimated. That point made him feel nauseous. What if those men weren’t unconscious, but something worse? Part of him felt like they deserved it, but the thought of murder made his head spin. He suddenly collapsed against the tree’s trunk and took long, strained breaths.
***
Jenna rubbed her eyes and looked around at the sight before her. Three menacing men had just been squat like flies by Marc. She wondered where all of that strength and speed had come from. Never before had she seen Marc do anything quite like that.
Then she turned her head to see Marc on the ground, back against the tree with sweat dripping down his face. She gulped, bent down and looked him in the eye.
“I-I-I shouldn’t have do-done that,” Marc muttered as Jenna’s hands clasped around his. “I’m n-not a mu-mu-murd-” Before he managed to finish the sentence, Jenna cut in.
“It’s fine! You helped me! Besides, they can’t be dead!” Jenna tried to sound optimistic, but she felt the same as Marc did now. ‘What if he did kill them?’ She pulled Marc closer to him, hugging him tightly. “Come on, it’s fine. It’s fine.” Marc then drifted to sleep on her shoulder from exhaustion.
“Such an impressive display,” a voice mused from behind Jenna. Instantly, she thought it to be another thug, but when she turned around, all she saw was a young boy, even shorter than herself, who only looked about thirteen years old at most. The boy wore a dark suit and had his short blonde hair swept back.
Jenna eyed the boy suspiciously and held Marc even more tightly. “Wh-What do you want?” She demanded with a surprisingly calm and dignified tone.
“Oh! How rude of me! I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Arron Hemmingway. I come on official business from The Law.” Arron extended his hand as if to shake. Jenna ignored this, yet Arron continued being as cheerful as ever.
“You mean you’re a copper?” Jenna asked the boy. “You look a bit young. And you aren’t dressed like one, either.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. An organisation, my lady. We deal with people who are … changing.” Marc smiled, cheerfully. His face shone of nothing but innocence.
“What do you mean by ‘changing’?” Jenna demanded. All of this was making her very agitated and afraid.
Arron sighed and his cheerful demeanour changed into one of exasperation. “By ‘changing’ I mean physically changing. How do you think he did that to those men?” He waved his hands motioning to the men on the floor. “The gentleman you hold so tightly is changing.” Jenna’s eyes started to fill with tears and Arron waved his hands about trying to get her to stop. “It’s nothing bad! Really! Many people change! I have! That’s why I’m here; to get him help!”
Jenna sniffed. “How did you know Marc was one of these people? And how did you find him? I don’t trust you.”
Arron sighed again. “I don’t really blame you. It is a bit strange, isn’t it?” He sat down, folding his legs beneath him. “I can’t tell you how I know yet or how I found him. If you don’t want to come with me, it’s fine, but I’m only here to help.”
“How do I know that?” Jenna snapped, holding Marc even more tightly. “How do I know you come from … ‘Law’ or whatever you call it.”
“The Law,” Arron corrected. “And I can easily prove it by showing you how I changed.” Arron grinned, turning his hands palm up in front of him. Sparks of electricity started to flicker and dance on his hands and in seconds his hands were like bright torches of light. As he let the electricity fade, he saw Jenna’s face had gone very pale. “Sorry, my lady,” he said feeling quite embarrassed. “But you left me no choice.” He stood up and started grinning again. “Shall we be going?” He then looked down to the sleeping Marc. “You’ll have to carry him, my lady,” he said disdainfully. “I’m not very strong.”
Type of writing: Prose
Subject: Human evolution
Genre: Sci-Fi
Summary: The human race is evolving. Ordinary people are changing, but is the world ready for what is in store?
Status: Still being written
Okay, need opinions and stuffs. I wanna rewrite this part, making it better and more in-depth.
Chapter One ~ This Ugly Beginning
Eric dragged his way through the crowds, buffeted this way and that, barely even seen by the overwhelming crowd. The town centre always seemed so very busy all of the time. Eric wondered if he’d ever see the place quiet and empty. Well, he used to wonder. In the seemingly distant past, his head would always be full of different thoughts, full of curiosity. Not now. For a long time, pain and agony had latched onto Eric, forcing him down into the depths of his own mind; his prison; his Hell.
Gun fire wailed through the crowds. The rattle of machine guns could be heard plainly all around. Screams arose from within the crowd and people struggled, forcing for a way to escape. With a hard crash, Eric was flung to the floor by one of the terrified people fleeing. Eric looked up slowly; barely aware of what was happening.
“What … is wrong with this world?” He asked the crying sky. He curled into a ball and shivered on the cold, hard ground. He wanted to cry, but he felt dry inside. Dry and empty. He just sat there in the crowd shivering silently, ignoring the crazed mass of people and those that tripped over his seemingly lifeless body.
Even in the pack of terrified people, Eric felt alone.
“There surely is no justice, is there?” He asked himself, laughing mockingly into his knees … and then it all stopped; the screaming, the gun shots, the pounding feet.
He pushed himself up slowly, weak arms trembling, and looked around. Everything had stopped moving. The darkened sky which gave birth to tiny drops of rain had stopped. The rain was somehow suspended in midair before his very eyes. The large, open square was totally quiet. Eric spun around, confused. Despite his confusion, he relished the quiet, though. Looking up to the old, stone buildings and the row of trees lining the square, he started to feel a tiny piece of his old emotions of happiness and joy; the emotions of a time when he was truly at peace.
It had been so long since he had actually looked around and took in what he saw. Previously, he just floated around, staring at the floor. He then caught a glimpse of the men with the guns, clothed all in black and wearing balaclavas. Terrorists, it seemed to him.
Like a roar in silence, the wailing of gunfire and the screams suddenly started again and the world became mobile once more. Then it struck him: what had just happened?
He rubbed a hand through his long, brown hair and looked around, plainly confused. People still carried on to storm past him in an attempt to escape, but he just didn’t care. He had to know what happened; try as he might, however, he couldn’t reason it out. He rubbed his chin in thought and after a few seconds, he decided to move.
Whatever had happened back in the square, he just had to find out what it was. In staying there, he knew he’d probably end up dying, which he could not let happen. ‘Not yet.’
Marc sat rigidly on the edge of the large, squishy chair. He often enjoyed lazing about on that chair, thinking about things that popped into his mind. Often, the girl he loved, Jenna, and her beautiful face, her full, rouge lips, her - ‘Argh! I’ve got to stop letting my mind drift!’ He thought in frustration.
Even so, the anger he felt quickly left him. He couldn’t be angry with himself too long, especially with what was being aired on the television. In the town square, a riot had begun, by the looks of things.
Marc’s focus quickly dissipated again when he heard the front door of the house opening. The lanky, nineteen year old wasted no time in jumping out of the chair and making a run for the hallway. At the end of the hallway, a dark haired girl wearing an equally dark skirt and a white shirt was closing the door. Marc continued to run though the hallway and flung his arms around her. Before she even had time to think, he dragged her into the living room and directed her to the television.
“Have you seen this, Jenna?” He asked, somewhat anxiously, although the excitement he felt was still showing strongly. “This is in the town square!” He was almost jumping up and down like a small child would.
Jenna, startlingly beautiful, stared up at him for a second, still confused with what was happening. “Hello Marc,” She said, smiling. She gently pushed him down onto the chair and lounged on him. “Now, what did you say?” She asked lazily, snuggling down.
Marc peered down at her for a second with wide eyes and then suddenly started waving his arms wildly. “Terrorists! Riot! Town square!” He shouted, hurriedly. He really did seem like a small child.
Jenna laughed at Marc’s comedic dance and continued to look up at him. As far as she was concerned, Marc was a lot more interesting than what was on the television.
Marc calmed down a little and looked at her with mock disappointment. “Can’t you be even in the slightest bit shocked, Jenna?” He asked, jokingly. He did just love to look at her and her beautiful, round face, her lovely inviting lips, those big, dark eyes like deep pools, seemingly endless.
Jenna laughed and blushed, poking Marc in the chest softly. She finally turned her head around to look at the television. Marc realised what was being shown again.
Terrorists seemed to be shooting randomly at the throng of people in the town square. From what Marc could tell, there seemed to be about twenty or so, randomly slaughtering innocent people.
The atmosphere in the room quickly changed. “Marc … This is terrible,” Jenna said, anxiously. She pushed herself up and went to sit on a free chair next to Marc’s.
***
Admittedly, Jenna knew her attention wasn’t still completely on the television. She wanted to sit on Marc’s lap still and look up into his bright, blue eyes. She knew that a lot of girls had never thought that he was very attractive and a thought he was strange, but for some reason Jenna loved the lanky, messy haired geek.
She looked over at him, smiling despite what she had just seen on the television, but he just stared at the television, transfixed with wide eyes. ‘Stop staring at him, bubblehead,’ she thought, as she turned her head to look at the television.
The terrorists were just dropping lifelessly to the floor. Jenna and Marc’s confused gazes met as they turned their heads from the television.
The sirens of the police cars echoed through the streets as they sped through the seemingly empty town. Their target was where the terrorists were; the town centre. It seemed too easy. This worried Gerald Mari, an old investigator in his early sixties, both suspicious and cautious in nature. Serving in the force for such a long time had made him into such a person. Gerald was an untrusting man and always looking for underlying meanings to everything. Something such as what was happening in the town centre perplexed Gerald. In his experience, terrorists had behaved much more differently to how the ones in the town centre were. Their strategy was ill-conceived and potentially suicidal.
He rubbed his bald head tiredly and peered at the policeman who was driving the car and sat next to him. He frowned at him thoughtfully, as if trying to peer into his mind.
As they got to the town centre, he noticed a rowdy mob of people crowding the area and policemen holding them back and taping off the area. Pushing through the throng of people, followed by an escort of policemen, he went to the person who was seemingly in charge. He dressed like an average policeman in the navy blue uniform, but his conical helmet had a different emblem from the average policeman.
“What’s going on here?” Gerald demanded, brushing off his suit as if the crowds of people had made it dirty. “Where are the bloody terrorists?”
The high ranking policeman obviously knew who Gerald was. Most people in the police force did. Gerald was an incredibly high ranking investigator, and one of the longest serving men on the force, after all. “Sir, the name is Benz,” He said, saluting formally. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir!”
“I didn’t ask for your name, man! What’s going on?”
“Sorry, sir,” He replied, feeling slightly dejected. “Well, sir … It seems that all of the terrorists were … murdered. Eye-witnesses say they just saw the terrorists … dying.”
Gerald looked past Benz and he finally saw the scene on the town square. Blood stained the ground and the corpses of the terrorists lay, scattered around. Some missing limbs; some heads.
Gerald’s old, winkled face scrunched up as he frowned disbelievingly at the scene. How did they all just die, and how in such a way? Something just didn’t add up. The anger that Gerald felt at not understanding simply fuelled his burning determination.
“The mission went well, Captain,” a well-spoken voice said.
“As expected. Return to base soon,” a hoarse voice replied.
Alexander flipped the phone shut and stuffed it into a spare pocket on his dark trench coat. He leant against a damp wall in the dingy alleyway and pulled out a small comb from within his coat. He began to comb his long hair back, but a loud, raucous voice made him stop midway.
“Oi, gimme ya fuggin’ money,” the voice demanded as a figure came into the small amount of light before Alexander. The hulking, unshaven man that stood before him held out a long knife as he came closer and closer before him.
Alexander simply put the comb calmly back into his coat and looked the man up and down, mockingly. “Go away,” he said simply.
The man roared something Alexander didn’t quite catch and flung himself at him, attempting to stab him. Alexander didn’t fall; it was the stinking man who fell. His head rolled on the floor before his body met the ground, too.
“Filth,” Alexander muttered, cleaning the blade of a long, curved sword with the man’s coat. He slowly stood up and sheathed his sword, which hung next to another identical one at his waist. “Filth …”
Chapter 2 (Not finished)
Eric stumbled down the fairly empty streets and collapsed against a wall. He had been running furiously in a desperate bid to escape and carry on living.
The rain was falling quickly now, puddles forming in the dents in the ground. The ground in that area of town was imperfect, much like everything else there. Buildings were decrepit, long since yearning for demolition, but it had never come. That area of town had been simply left to waste. Nobody truly knew how or why it had got that way, but what most knew was that that area of town was run primarily by gangs. Murder, theft, prostitution and other crimes were commonplace and the police force had absolutely no hold there. Eric had made his home in that place.
Eric took in deep breaths and bent down to roll up his increasingly soaking brown trousers. His black shirt was clinging to him now, as was his hair to his head. Flinging his head back in an attempt to get the hair out of his face, he noticed a group of men nearing. One was in the centre, wearing a rich-looking suit, surrounded by larger, more haggard-looking men who were holding umbrellas to shelter the man they grouped around. ‘Shit, why’s David here?’
Eric pushed himself off the wall and stood to face David and his rough-looking entourage. “David,” he said, feeling slightly anxious. His worry didn’t show in his face, however; he simply wore his usual, depressed expression.
“Eric,” David said in a creepily delighted tone. David’s voice – despite being a gang leader – was rather high pitched. He moved in to hug Eric, who didn’t return the hug, but David’s seemingly happy mood didn’t dissipate. His thin lips actually twisted into more of a smile. “Ah, Eric, you are grumpy today, aren’t you? Just get over the girl, kid.”
Eric’s eyes widened and anger began to flood over him, which he couldn’t stop from showing in his expression. David sensed this and sighed. “Listen, I just came to say you still owe money. You’ve been living in your little … house for a long time without paying. It’s only since I like you I’m not taking things too seriously. Yet.” David’s smile twisted even more and his bright green eyes shone, maliciously.
Anger consumed Eric at this point. He just couldn’t resist and he let it flood him like a burst dam. And everything just stopped. Like before, in the town centre, time froze and nothing moved. David stood there, his face centimetres away from his own with that insufferable smile across his face. This time, the freezing of time didn’t shock him; instead he clenched his fist tightly and thrust it out in an attempt to punch David in the face. Instead, his hand went right through David and he crashed to the floor, thrown off-balance. Time suddenly snapped back and Eric sat on the floor a few paces from David, looking at him with great concern.
David’s eyes widened when he noticed Eric wasn’t in front of him. His head spun and he noticed Eric sitting in a puddle to the left of him. “H-how did you get there, kid?”
Eric gulped and slowly got up as David and his gang closed in on him.
“I think we’ve found what one of the people Biggs is looking for,” David muttered, half to himself, half to the gang. “Go get him. We’ll be paid through the nose!” David cackled as the huge thugs lumbered after Eric. Eric wasted no time sticking around, though, and started sprinting down the street from the men.
“Damn, he’s quick …” David muttered to himself as he watched the ape-like men attempting to run after him. He walked further up the battered street to a shiny, black BMW. He took a key out of his pocket, opened the door and got into the car.
Marc walked slowly down a path of dirt, surrounded by trees and littered with golden and brown leaves. Light poked its way through gaps in the canopy overhead, but the path was mostly shaded in the afternoon sun. Drops of water from the rain earlier dripped quietly from the leaves and small puddles were formed on the path.
Alongside Marc, walked Jenna who held his hand gently. They would often walk through the forest together, rain or shine. It was a sort of tradition the two had since they had both met in there. As they continued to walk, birds sung to each other and fluttered overhead.
Eventually, they came to fork. One path kept going straight on, out to a large, open field of overgrown grass with the occasional tree dotted about; the other path led further into the forest. They ignored the latter and walked to the field.
Despite how wet the grass was they managed to find a nice, dry spot beneath a large oak tree. This was the spot they usually sat at whenever they came here.
“You know, it worries me,” Marc said. “What happened on the TV. I can’t get it out of my head.” Marc sat rather stiffly against the trunk of the huge oak.
Jenna looked at him curiously. “Come on, just relax. It’s not good, sure, but it’s not affected us, has it?”
“Well, it’s just worrying. I mean, how can a bunch of people just … drop dead like that?” Marc looked at Jenna, as if looking for an answer, but before he knew what hit him, she was kissing him fiercely.
For a second, she parted her lips from his. “Now, you will stop with all this worrying?” That came as more of a demand than a question.
“Oi!” A loud voice erupted behind them both, suddenly. Whilst embracing, they had not noticed three rather sinister-looking men approach. All of them stood quite tall, except one, who made up for height with fat. “How’d a nice little thing like you end up with that?” One of the taller men said to Jenna, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up, roughly.
Marc instantly jumped into the air, spun, and kicked the man round the side of the head, sending him flying through the air and landing with a crash a few paces away. The other two men stared wide-eyed at Marc in both fear and confusion as he landed.
Jenna wasted no time in running behind Marc and sniffling slightly. She still hadn’t totally realised what Marc had just done. She was just glad to be away from the men.
The two men left looked at each other then ran at Marc together, both pulling out knives. Marc dodged both of the men’s attempted attacks, gracefully and punched both in their stomachs, sending them soaring through the air like their counterpart.
The three men lay scattered about, unconscious in the grassy field where Marc and Jenna used to spend a lot of time at. Then it hit him: how had he just done that? The sheer strength in which he hit those men was comparable to being hit by a car, he estimated. That point made him feel nauseous. What if those men weren’t unconscious, but something worse? Part of him felt like they deserved it, but the thought of murder made his head spin. He suddenly collapsed against the tree’s trunk and took long, strained breaths.
***
Jenna rubbed her eyes and looked around at the sight before her. Three menacing men had just been squat like flies by Marc. She wondered where all of that strength and speed had come from. Never before had she seen Marc do anything quite like that.
Then she turned her head to see Marc on the ground, back against the tree with sweat dripping down his face. She gulped, bent down and looked him in the eye.
“I-I-I shouldn’t have do-done that,” Marc muttered as Jenna’s hands clasped around his. “I’m n-not a mu-mu-murd-” Before he managed to finish the sentence, Jenna cut in.
“It’s fine! You helped me! Besides, they can’t be dead!” Jenna tried to sound optimistic, but she felt the same as Marc did now. ‘What if he did kill them?’ She pulled Marc closer to him, hugging him tightly. “Come on, it’s fine. It’s fine.” Marc then drifted to sleep on her shoulder from exhaustion.
“Such an impressive display,” a voice mused from behind Jenna. Instantly, she thought it to be another thug, but when she turned around, all she saw was a young boy, even shorter than herself, who only looked about thirteen years old at most. The boy wore a dark suit and had his short blonde hair swept back.
Jenna eyed the boy suspiciously and held Marc even more tightly. “Wh-What do you want?” She demanded with a surprisingly calm and dignified tone.
“Oh! How rude of me! I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Arron Hemmingway. I come on official business from The Law.” Arron extended his hand as if to shake. Jenna ignored this, yet Arron continued being as cheerful as ever.
“You mean you’re a copper?” Jenna asked the boy. “You look a bit young. And you aren’t dressed like one, either.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. An organisation, my lady. We deal with people who are … changing.” Marc smiled, cheerfully. His face shone of nothing but innocence.
“What do you mean by ‘changing’?” Jenna demanded. All of this was making her very agitated and afraid.
Arron sighed and his cheerful demeanour changed into one of exasperation. “By ‘changing’ I mean physically changing. How do you think he did that to those men?” He waved his hands motioning to the men on the floor. “The gentleman you hold so tightly is changing.” Jenna’s eyes started to fill with tears and Arron waved his hands about trying to get her to stop. “It’s nothing bad! Really! Many people change! I have! That’s why I’m here; to get him help!”
Jenna sniffed. “How did you know Marc was one of these people? And how did you find him? I don’t trust you.”
Arron sighed again. “I don’t really blame you. It is a bit strange, isn’t it?” He sat down, folding his legs beneath him. “I can’t tell you how I know yet or how I found him. If you don’t want to come with me, it’s fine, but I’m only here to help.”
“How do I know that?” Jenna snapped, holding Marc even more tightly. “How do I know you come from … ‘Law’ or whatever you call it.”
“The Law,” Arron corrected. “And I can easily prove it by showing you how I changed.” Arron grinned, turning his hands palm up in front of him. Sparks of electricity started to flicker and dance on his hands and in seconds his hands were like bright torches of light. As he let the electricity fade, he saw Jenna’s face had gone very pale. “Sorry, my lady,” he said feeling quite embarrassed. “But you left me no choice.” He stood up and started grinning again. “Shall we be going?” He then looked down to the sleeping Marc. “You’ll have to carry him, my lady,” he said disdainfully. “I’m not very strong.”
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