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 4- Coming Home

Every bone in my body was aching, but I managed to stay conscious and alive. I fought to keep my eyes open as my assailant jumped off of the upper floor and landed effortlessly next to my pained body. He leaned over me, observing his victim momentarily.

“You won’t die, nor are you paralyzed,” he assured me. “If you can still talk, which I’m sure you can, you will tell me what I wish to know.”

Discovering my continued gift of speech, I spat out, “And if I choose not to?”

“Trust me. That isn’t in your best interest.” I’m sure he spoke the truth, so I decided to talk.

“Did you kill the man in the bedroom?” was his first question. Idiot, thought I, if you only had some common sense…

“No,” I replied, truthfully. He seemed taken aback at this, but continued his cruel little interrogation.

“If you didn’t kill him, why are you here? And why were you running?”

“Well, if you must know, I was bringing him some cakes,” I shot back sarcastically. The Stranger didn’t seem to like this, so I answered again with the fear of losing fingers.

“I was here to kill him. But, as you can see, that didn’t turn out to well…” He once again looked surprised, but satisfied in the questioning area.

“I’m going to leave you here,” he said “If you make it out before someone else shows up, good for you. If not, well… good evening.” With these last, uncaring words, he left me to die in this nightmare of a house.

Exhaustion eventually overcame me, and I slept for some hours. When I awoke, it was still dark outside, but I thought it to be sometime close to dawn. I was refreshed with a newfound goal: getting home alive. My legs were not broken, though they may as well have been. They were ignited with fires beyond imagining. When I stood up, the pain shot up to my waist. This could be nothing but easy.

Step by step, I pressed on, screaming with pain. I made it out of the doorway, feeling relieved in the brisk air. I staggered past the corpses and to the gate. Once there, I made an interesting discovery: the gate was closed and locked. The Stranger would definitely pay for this.

Above all of the fears, and above all of the sorrows, another fire burned in me. It was one that was related to pain, but not quite. It had a name which some men cower from, and some channel into power. It was called Hate. I was one that would use it for power. Gathering every bit of might left in my body, I bounded off of the ground. Up and over the gates I went, landing on the ground on the other side. The pain was only satiated by my Hate. I still screamed.

I lay on the road for some time, panting and moaning with agony. Finally, I forced myself to stand again and staggered down the road. Halfway to the Imperial City, a large carriage rode past me, causing me to duck in the few remaining shadows. It was only after another half hour of grief that I stumbled back into the City.