Anima di Nerezza Chapter 3, "The First Target" Options

[Sirin]

Anima di Nerezza

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3


The moon was high in the night sky, to be sure, but I could not identify my opponent. All I knew is that he was drenched in blood, and the guards had blood smeared all across their bodies. Two and two equals killer. I had my dagger at the ready, but he stood there carelessly, allowing me time to consider the situation.

My opponent was unarmed, which left me bewildered. How he could slaughter these men in such a fashion and remain unharmed himself was beyond me. As I mentioned, I could make out his form, but nothing of his features. I could describe his attitude though: bold. Foolish, at best. He still waited before me, awaiting my first attack. Judging by the massacred guards, my first move would have to be my last, for I didn’t wish to entertain this killer with a long fight. I had no doubt that, if given the time, things would go in his favor.

Numbly, I lunged at him. This was an odd feeling, for it seemed to not be my own. It was almost dreamlike. The bold man stood still, as if he accepted his fate and would have it no other way. My blade danced closer and closer to my foe, but time slowed, or so it seemed. I could perceive every individual drop of rain tumbling from the darkened sky. Closer I came to running the man through. Abruptly, he leaped at me to connect in a daring clash of steel and flesh.

The sound was peculiar, to say little. There was not the usual metallic noise as the blade slid into the body. Nor was there the barely audible clanking of steel on bone. In fact, the sight was unbelievable as well. The killer was gone. I landed from my lunge and stood alone in the cold rain. I saw no body, other than those previously there. But suddenly, a hard fist connected with my back, sending me flailing onto the soggy ground.

Rising again, I turned around to face my foe again. He stood in the same over-confident fashion as before, but this time he was crouched and held his hand out, clenched. As if he’d just punched someone. Well, at least I know it was him, and I didn’t just get dumped by some giant raindrop, I thought sarcastically.

“Now, how did you get back there?” I asked, not quite expecting an answer. I didn’t get one, either, but I could have sworn that the maniac smiled at me. He leapt at me this time, apparently impatient for his next kill. He wouldn’t get one, though. Just had to time my next stunt perfectly…

This post has been edited by Sirin: Mar 2 2006, 02:02 AM

[Sirin]

Part 3- Unexpected Company

Walking up to the front door of my target, I noticed the lavishness of the home in which Dante Gallias chose to live in. The front door was hand sculpted oak wood, adorned with gold plated handles. The lone window in itself must have cost the same as half of this whole house! It was a large arch of glass, embellished with pearls and other precious gems. The moon, now high in the sky, reflected off of it though, making it almost impossible to see inside.

Laying my hands on the golden handles, I pulled open the noticeably heavy doors. As I did, the cool night air rushed inside past me. I stepped inside, and instantly developed a mentality of an ominous… something. The very silence that occupied the house was making me fearful of the unknown. I cautiously climbed up the ornate stairs that lay before me, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

The upper level was as spine-chilling as the lower. There wasn’t supposed to be anything so haunting about this house, but I had a feeling. I ran my hands along the guard rail, trying to steady my trembling body. I revisited the graveyard outside in my thoughts, trying to put reason to the impossible, bare-handed murder of the late night watch. It didn’t make sense. Swamped in my thoughts, I barely caught myself as the rails lurched to the side.

Every muscle in my body sprang into action when the rail tipped. Thankfully it didn’t fall, but I have no doubts that it would have, had I remained. I slowed my quaky breathing, calmed my nerves, and walked on. I turned into what was supposed to be Gallias’ bedroom, to see the outline of my target sitting on the floor, facing me.

My breath caught in my throat at the thought of my own prey waiting for me. This was most unusual, indeed. But did the hunted yell out, or even move toward me in a desperate attempt at self preservation? Not at all. I must have been more horrified than he, for he did absolutely nothing. I moved forward gradually, ready to take off the man’s head if he did so much as laugh. Even with my blade in my right hand, I was still nervous.

I reached out quickly, not hesitating a bit, and grabbed Gallias’ shirt. I hoisted the unmoving one up to my face, struggling for every bit of light. He was quite dead, but I couldn’t be sure for how long he had been so. The blood that painted his face and clothing was still dripping; however his skin was stone cold. I dropped him quickly and ran, giving in to primal instinct.

I made it to the staircase area when a heavy hand grasped my neck and stopped me dead in my tracks. I screamed and flailed, but I found no strength in my limbs. The hand, with surprising power, threw me against the rails.

“No,” I managed to whisper before my descent. He threw me against the wrong spot. The weak spot collapsed, and I sunk with it.