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An Old Soul

Discussion in 'Creative Archive' started by Hydralisk, Feb 17, 2010.

  1. Blade...

    Steel...

    A shining, metallic gray. It pieces both body and soul, stained crimson red. Savour by some, and feared by others. That crimson red stains the hands of warrior, and psychopaths. Sometimes there is little to distinguish the two. The soft, metallic noise of a blade being drawn... Death comes.

    Prime raised his head, surveying the green grass cast in deep twilight before him. The sun had touched the edge of the world, and cast the land in shadow. There was a small compound in front of him, specializing in genetic research and experimentation. He had been hired to steal something from them, along with Eragon, crouched beside him.

    He nodded to the young man, sky blue hair and a wirey frame deceived some into thinking he was weak. But far from it, the young man had hard muscle beneith his sleeveless tunic. He held a combat knife in his right hand as though he was bourne to it, and Prime knew it was special to him.

    He looked fairly ordinary, aside from the sky blue hair and eye's. A little over average height, a slender, somewhat athletic build. His features were irish, but softened, and his face was smooth curves with few angles. He was a living bishie, but no one would mistake him for a girl.

    Prime himself was a great deal more roguish. He'd never been referred to as handsome, though the term hot was bandied about. He reflected that it would matter a great deal on a persons taste. His face was an even mixture of hard and soft angles, and looking at him, you wouldn't be sure whether he was irish, german, or greek. He had a large nose and a jutting forhead. The top of his head was covered with dark red hair, cut short, and hazel eye's that shift between blue, green, and stormy gray observed the world.

    For the moment, he was wearing black leather gear, over which he had a utility vest. His pants were loose, granting mobility. He carried no pistol or other firearm on him. He was tall, with a stocky, solid build, and he carried himself well.

    Save for the moment, with his head in the dirt, to avoid notice from perimeter guards.

    "You ready for this?" Prime asked Eragon, who nodded shortly in response.

    "Think they're ready for us?" Eragon asked.

    Prime shook his head, "Doubtful. It was a private contract, and I couldn't find any larger stake holders in this." He said, fingering his sword. "I think we'll have the element of surprise, but don't rely on it to much."

    Eragon nodded, shrugging off Prime's words. He'd known the man to long, been trained by him, he knew to be cautious and take nothing in a combat situation for granted. He stirred slightly, getting more friction against the ground. It was almost time.

    The sun ducked below the horizon, and Eragon look at Prime. He nodded.

    In a flurry of leaves, they darted away from eachother, circling around to either side of the compound.

    Prime moved quickly, long martial training granting him excellent speed across the terrian. He darted up to the fence behind cover of a few tree's, quickly climbed one, and jumped over the fence. He landed with a thud, rolling to absorb the impact, and was quickly back on his feet. He darted across the open space between the fence and the first building, and put his back to the wall.

    His eye's darted around the space, looking for signs of detection. A short three count, shallow breaths, nothing. He jumped, grabbing onto the edge of the roof, and pulled himself up over the top. He saw a flash of light on the other side of the compound, Eragon's knife. There was a flash of red and a muffled scream, the scent of blood kissed the air.

    Prime smirked, looked like it wouldn't be so easy after all.

    Gunfire range out, sparks peppered Prime as bullets landed in a hail around him. He increased his speed quickly, spotting the roof hatch the men were pouring out of. His smile spread to a death heads grin, and he reversed his direction.

    "Shit, shoot him!" The commander yelled, kicking one of his men into action, "Don't stand there shocked, open fire!"

    Multiple automatic rifles opened up, muzzles flaring at him in beautiful flashes of orange and yellow. Prime darted about, closing distance. Bullets peppered his chest and legs, but his kevlar took care of that. He endured the impacts and continued forwards, drawing his blade.

    There was a flash of silver, moonlight glinted of his blade. The point ground into the roof, coming away red, and the first man fell.

    "Oh, fu-" One of the men said, all of them spinning in towards Prime to open fire. The guns opened up, Prime darted about, his sword a storm of glinting moonlight among the men. Moments later they all fell about him, silent as death.

    He flung the blood of his sword.

    Click.

    Prime turned towards the commander.

    "You....monster!" The man spat, pointing a pistol at Prime. He pulled the trigger.

    "Grrrgh!" Prime grunted, clasping his hip. He took a hard breath, must've gotten in between the kevlar armor. His sword flashed, bisecting the left eye of the man who shot him.

    The commander took a last, slow breath, and layed still where he was.

    Prime crouched, quickly looking about the roof for others, but found nothing. He darted through the roof hatch, closing it behind him.

    At the base of the ladder, he checked the room. One door, utility room, he dismissed the contents and check his wound. Twenty two calibre bullet hole, so a fairly small bullet in his hip. It hurt like hell, but he still had full leg motion, so it wasn't anything to worry about. Save for the bleeding.

    He pulled a patch out of one of the utility vests pockets, peeled off the casing, and slapped it over the wound. He pulled out a butane torch lighter, lit it, and directed it at the patch. Prime hissed as the heat seeped through the patch into the wound, but the plastics adhered and sealed the wound tightly.

    Battlefield path, Prime chuckled, Eragon called it saran wrap for your skin. Useful, in any case, since they prevented extreme bleeding. The was the worst thing about most wounds, the bleeding. A stab wound is superficial if it doesn't pierce any vital organs, it's the bleeding that kills you.

    Prime dropped the trash on the floor, and poked his head into the hallway outside. No one was about, but he could hear people nearby. The hall looked like that of a hospital, though bare of things like beds, and medical equipment. Smelled like one to, though any similar operation would likely disinfect, for their own safety.

    He snuck out of the room, and started moving stealthily down the hallway. He checked each room as he passed them, looking for hidden surprises. He stopped a few feet from the last door, listening. The faint sound of breathing, the smell of smoke. Prime scowled, bloody amateurs. He quietly unsheathed his sword, surveying the wall beside him.

    There you are, Prime thought, the sword pierced the wall, met with a surprised grunt and a gasp. Prime extracted the sword, now covered with blood and white dust.There was the sound of a body slumping to the floor, and Prime shook his head. Paper thin walls, were not cover.

    He threw himself to the side, as shots erupted from inside of the room, the wall was covered in small holes. The guard on the other side completely emptied his clip into the wall, then moved slowly forwards to look through the hole at Prime.

    Prime tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around in surprise.

    "You should always watch the entrance." Prime said, and punched the guard out.

    "Bloody kids," Prime said, looking at the boy, barely out of his teenage years. "Don't think this is fun and games."

    "Doesn't that apply to you to?" Eragon asked from the doorway.

    "Psh," Prime said, "I've got an old soul."

    Eragon shook his head, "You're so full of shit Prime, you can't even grow a proper beard."

    Prime flipped Eragon the bird, the young man just grinned. "Shut up Eragon, you still have peachfuzz. Why do you go play bridge with your grandmother again."

    Eragon grinned, "Because I have a date with your mom tonight."

    Prime scowled, "Fu-" A shotgun blast his Prime in the back, knocking him down.

    "Eugh, the hell?" Prime said, rubbing the back of his head. A few of the BB's had hit him in the back of the neck. Thankfully BB's on their own were't very damaging.

    Eragon had already darted across the room, covering the hole. He signaled for silence, and listened. Soft footsteps, very soft. A man was moving about, Eragon could faintly hear the sound of his coat. It had to be a lab worker than, in a long coat. He heard a muted click, and then a second. The man had chambered another round.

    Eragon gestured to the wall, as Prime hopped silently to here feet.

    "Where?" Prime mouthed, and Eragon pointed to each place he heard a footstep.

    Prime waited patiently, timing it carefully, waiting.

    The footsteps stopped.

    Eragon gave the signal, and Prime rammed his sword through the wall. There was a gasp, followed by a crunching sound, and then a beastly yell. Another sword erupted from the wall, heading straight for Prime's head. He ducked under it, withdrawing his own.

    A huge man slammed through the wall, his skin was gray and he was holding the strangest sword Prime had ever seen. It looked like some kind of amplifier, with sharpened edges. He wouldn't even call it a sword, truthfully, its purpose was undoubtedly something different. However, a peice of steel with a sharp edge made a sword, as long as you could cut and stab the other guy.

    The huge brutes eye's looked sad, but his face was still contorted in rage as he swung the blade at Prime. Prime parried, and swung hard, burying half his blade in the brutes ribcage. The brute grunted, and Eragon darted in, jabbing his combat knife into the brutes spine. There was a snaping sound, and its legs went out from under it.

    Prime jumped back, withdrawing his blade. It flailed about, grabbing at him. Eragon jumped over it, clapping Prime on the shoulder. "Well this guy is fun!" Eragon said, "Eugh!"

    A blade was suddenly protruding from Eragon's chest. The brute was standing again, apparently having regenerated. Prime stepped around Eragon, holding his blade with a cold air about him.

    "Die!" There was a flash of light in the dark room, and a gray head rolled across the floor, followed by an immense gray body. Prime pulled the sword out of Eragon, "You alright?" He asked.

    Eragon whirled to look at Prime, scowling and gasping for air. "Screw!" Eragon said, "You!" The wound in his chest slowly started to close, starting with the inner portions thankfully.

    "Just because," Eragon gasped, "I'm immortal." There was a pause, as something inside him snapped. He flinched, "Doesn't mean I enjoy getting stabbed." Eragon said a little more easily.

    "Well if you weren't immortal, I'd stop to feel more shock and anger." Prime said, "As it is, I think its better if I kill the thing that stabbed you, so you don't have to enjoy it a second time."

    Eragon flipped Prime the bird.

    "Hahaha," Prime laughed, "Now we're even!"
     

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