Dark Transcendence (Creative Writing)
By
Abbzy,
Posted on: 2008-08-19 22:21 in Multi-Media Fan Creations
I really like this, you seem to have put some work in to getting it right and your description is excellent. Youve either got an affinity with rain 
or you had a strong image in your head as the downpour came across very well.
The blade she carried slipped from her shivering hand, deactivating as the metal hilt bounced across the cold wet concrete beneath her. For example this sentence was particularly well done. A couple of tweaks and it would be perfect.
I also loved
but the bloody stain had framed the injury leaving its mark on her expensive jacket.
that enveloped her hands when she wielded them granted her a sense of security and safety that she often felt she lacked in her obsessive and solitary work absorbed life. Another example of good description that added depth to the character, it just needs a bit to tidying up to be spot on.
As with all of us, you need to be careful with repetition of words in close proximity (meh, theres probably a phrase for it as that one is always messy when I right it, but I cant be bothered to look 
). A few examples are:
the frequent flashes of lightening staccato'd the appearance of her movements as though she were caught in the irregular pulse of a malfunctioning strobe light. The heavy rain
Her immaculately tailored and expensive black silk suit had long since reached saturation point from the torrents of rain which cascaded down onto her narrow shoulders. Her white
On another general point, while your description is very good, be careful not to use too many adjectives. A lot of your sentences are a tad too long and wordy. A small amount of editing to reduce them in length would make them feel easier when they are read and they wouldnt lose any of their beauty.
By way of an example try this:
Her target had at a previous time been a member of the same Organisation as her, they had exchanged ideas
This could be edited down to Her target had previously been a member of the Organisation, they had exchanged ideas ...
Also:
A single tear formed in the corner of her right eye, a glistening bead of water that briefly stood out from the millions of droplets that fell from the sky above, slowly running down her cheek to merge with the pouring rain that engulfed her. This starts very well but the back end needs tightening up. (Oh, now thats a phrase I dont get to use often in a forum. )
Keep up the good work and write some more. I hope you dont mind the feedback and do ask if Ive not been clear with anything.
Thanks for your very constructive criticism which i assue you i will take on board, the repetition of the and her was something i was concerned about to be honest and should have altered before posting.
I do have a bad habbit of getting lost in descriptions
Will hopfuly
I plan to get chapter 2 up perhaps within the next week or so, and i hope you enjoy where im aiming to take this fiction.
[u]Chapter 2[u]
Shattered Insight
(Coming Soon)
Well this took a while to piece together and i apologise for the wait, any constructive critcism is always welcome and i hope anyone who reads this enjoys it
[u]Dark Transcendence[u]
[u]Chapter 2 - Shattered Insight[u]
Everything compressed into nothingness, hopelessness without despair, loveless without hate, no light, no dark, no clock ticks, no heart aches, all is lost, all never was.
Indigo gasped suddenly as she awoke, a cold sweat laminated her tanned skin, her eyes wide as if suddenly enlightened to the reality of an advancing yet incomprehencable threat . She laboured for breath as she attempted to rationalise the vision she had just experienced. 'A dream?' she queried to herself. The absolute blackness of what she had percieved would have felt to most normal beings like a heavy slumber, but Indigo was not a 'normal being'. Since childhood her powers of foresight had been un-canny, always a step ahead of what would happen in the world; time did not pass for Indigo, it occured. She was a Seer, one of the few in the world, and it was this ability which had allowed her to progress so far into the Organisation.
Sleep had always yielded her more accurate insights into the paths time would take. Since her youth, each night would deliver a conveluted montage filled with images of things to come. Rarely an event she had foreseen would not come to pass, her foresight allowing her the ability to manipulate the strands of fate, not only her own but that of others. Experience had taught her some things should not be tampered with. Recently however her dreams provided her with nothing; they were filled with nothingness and this worried her more than any visions of either natural or predatory nature .
Rolling slowly to her side, forcably dismissing her rising sense of anxiety, she glanced at the luminous red lights of her digital alarm clock. They read 05:44,
"Another early start," she groaned, before forcing herself out of bed.
* * *
The bright morning sun filtered through the layered white blinds, illumintating the floating dust moates caught in the rays and bathing the office of Rondel Simes in a filmy white glow. The large private office space of the Director of the Organisation was expensively decorated, with ornate filigreed light fittings which hung gracefuly from the wall, below which various certificates and photographs offered any observer the image of a normal youth. The center of the room was dominated by a large, highly varnished dark oak desk inlayed with marquetry, the craftsmanship of which betrayed the obvious expense of the piece. The desktop was meticulously arranged, each thick file and loose paper in its designated spot overlooked by the obligatory desktidy.
Rondel Simes had sat at the top of the Organisation for 9 months, a brief time in comparison to his predecessor who passed away suddenly after 20years of service and management. The new youthful director had provided a fresh outlook for the Organisation since recieving his position, re-structuring sections and pushing forward various aspects of research, most of which remained undisclosed to the majority of his operatives. Confidentiality and secrecy had become some of his key ideals and even Crimson, who worked directly beneath Rondel was kept in the dark regarding many of the Organisation's current developments.
Agents Crimson and Indigo sat at the opposite side of the desk to Director Simes, who glared with pierceing blue eyes intently at the pair as would a stern father prior to scolding his children.
"400 agents, 37 surveilance satellites, the most complex and encompasing communications network in the world, and you can't find him?" queried the director in a tone of uttmose disgust.
"We are getting closer!" replied Crimson. "We almost had him in Hong Kong but had issues with one of our own operatives; we believe he may have attempted to move through Asia and then headed towards the Middle-East"
"It was a foolish mistake on your behalf to send someone with personal issues on such a misson Crimson, I expected better of you."
Again a tone of disappointment and disgust ran through Rondel's words. Few were the men in the world who would dare belittle Agent Crimson.
"Your lapses are most unfortuante, however not all of us litter our actions with pathetic mistakes, I have had the girl's body recovered. Her abilities should provide insight and solutions to some of our development projects, but the more pressing matter is Wolf. I want him found by the end of the week, or I'll find other people who know how to do their jobs, do you understand Crimson?"
"Yes Sir!" responded the agent, his voice trembling with timerity.
Indigo's eyes glanced between her partner and the Director. She had remained silent throughout the discussion, the normally charming Director's carismatic approach when normally addressing the pair was replaced by an intense display of irritation that left her lacking words. After much consideration she concluded it best to inform him of the portents she had experienced so often in her dreams of late.
"Sir one thing..." she said, hesitantly.
Director Simes eyes shifted from Crimson to make eye contact with the much smaller agent,
"What is it?" he demanded.
At that moment a bright red light began to flash at the back of the large desk. Glancing down the Directors composure seemed to shift slightly his face becoming a mix of surprise and urgency, as his mind processed a multitude of factors almost instantly before he raised his eyes to once more address the pair;
"Theres an issue in G5, I need to go!"
* * *
Mathew Roderick, known to most as Agent Wolf, surveyed the long corridor leading down to the state-of-the-art underground laboratories used by the various researchers and scientists of the Organisation. It felt surreal to find himself once more in the Apex building, the headquaters of his former employers. However on this occasion he would view the complex hive of labs, offices and training facilities from the perspective of an attacker rather than a defender. Like most operatives he had been recruited by the Organisation for his rare talents, his being described as multi-purpose vision. His usually unremarkable grey eyes were capable of a multitude of fields of vision, able to zoom to levels that could rival micro scopes, capable of night, infra-red and even x-ray vision, without the requirement for any equipment had made him ideal for missions revolving reconaisance and infiltration. The natural affinity and skill he had developed with fire arms had increased his mission scope to involve assasination and he had rapidly risen to become the finest black-ops operative the Organisation had at their disposal. They had trained him and honed his talents, but they had not contemplated or queried the strong sense of justice and morality the young man had always maintained. Today however his mission was not to kill, not to destroy, he was on a mission of rescue.
Locating where his friend was being held had been an easy enough task, and he had quickly maneuvered his way through the building utilising some of the equipment he had 'borrowed' from the Organisation. Borrowed was the term he prefered to use, the majority of the equipment he had taken was simply a means to an end, it did not feed a form of greed, he would return it to the appropriate people when he was finished with it.
Adjusting his apparently innocent watch slightly caused a sudden shimmer of energy to engulf his muscular frame, his scruffy dark hair shifting slightly as if caught in a slight breeze before he slowly began to fade from generic sight. He had to admit, the stealth technology the Organisation had developed over the last few months had been quite incredible, creating fields capable of bending and shaping light around the user to render them completely invisible. The field would only last several minutes but it was long enough to avoid detection from a prying security camera or guard patrol.
Drawing his gun he proceeded quickly down the long, narrow, poorly lit corridor, towards the steel security door at the end, that held his target. Beneath the field of stealth his eye color shifted, changing from its standard grey to a seering red, glairing no longer at, but through the door seeking any source of living heat coming from within. He sensed a figure moving slowly through the room positioning equipment around a female form which lay atop a cold inorganic surface. Relieved he appeared to be in time, he accelerated towards the door, simultaneously aiming his 0.45 calibur revolver at the lock , he squeezed the trigger.
* * *
The gentle hum of computers and machinery filled the barely lit laboratory. A focused bright spotlight highlighted the center of the room, where former Agent Seretta lay still on a steel grey table. The laboratory of Doctor Gerald Hanjo was completely off limits to all personal excluding the Director Rondel Simes. The doctor posessed the uniqe ability to identify if a person had any special gift which seperated them from the norm, and moreover, how that gift worked. This had granted him an immense understanding into the biological mechanisms which granted certain individuals 'super powers'. His dreams of being a field operative had quickly been proven irrational, lacking any skill in combat or infiltration. However, his brilliant mind had made him an invaluable source of information and knowledge to the Organisation, despite his bizzare and disturbing nature.
Only when Rondel became Director did he truly reach the level of appreciation he felt he deserved. The Director had granted him permission to un-ravel the secrets of the 'super human' regardless of cost. Ethical issues had been set aside. Operatives and targets with uniqe abilities, who perished on missions were quickly recovered and delivered to the Doctor, who would begin the process he refered to as the 'information harvest'. Disecting body after body to expand his theories, uploading his computer banks with with wave after wave of recovered data, and filling his freezer with human organs which possessed incredible properties, from eyes, lungs and hands that held the genetic coding to produce fire or ice from nothing, to brains that could generate immense forms of telekentic energy and even hearts made of flesh harder than steel. All had become posessions of the incrediably intelligent, yet quite mad Doctor Hanjo. The good doctor underlined the saying that between genius and insanity runs a very fine line.
He was aware his current specimen posessed a very rare talent he was eager to analyse. It was rare for the doctor to have a still living being to disect. He had repeatedly browsed the Organisations information banks on Agent Seretta and her abilities of regeneration, but with her recent fall from grace he had finally been granted the opportunity to fully explore her rapid regenerative capability. She had been delivered to him in a post mortem state, but after removing a steel shell that had been lodged in the back of her head he was surprised and delighted to observe her pulse was very much present. Colour had begun to seep into her face as her body healed from what had appeared to be a mortal wound. The doctor had quickly moved the agent to one of his cryogenic prisons unwilling to relinquish the opportunity to finally understand this girl's rare power.
A slight moan escaped the lips of his patient, which was his signal to plunge a syringe of sedative into her narrow bicep. He had often wondered to what level she was capable of regeneration. Cuts and minor wounds would heal rapidly, but he had pondered to what degree she was able to regrow tissue. This was his chance to answer one of the many questions he had dwelt on in recent years.
Glaring down at the barely concious form before him Doctor Hanjo could not help but feel a small degree of sexual anxiety. As a reclusive intellectual he had forfeited the more common aspects of a young man's life such as flirting and courting. His immense understanding of biology and physiology dwarfed his understanding of the human emotion and social interaction. His pale cadaverous face, thick rimmed glasses and unkempt black hair atop a thin wirey frame had not made him the most appealing of male specimens in the world of dating. Yet here before him was a living breathing well formed female, unaware and defenceless. Her body was barely concealed by the short white hospital gown, her silver hair spread beneath her framing her elegant shoulders, her eyes barely closed, her chest rhythmicaly rising and descending with each steady breath. Leaning towards her still pale lips and slightly arched neck he took a moment to deeply inhale, savouring her essence as he gently ran one of his wirey thin hands up along her exposed thigh, breathing heavily as he reached behind him to grasp the hilt of a narrow sharpened scalpel;
He whispered, "I won't be alone today," as a lover might offer a prayer of thanks to the ancient god of love.
Drawing a deep breath he stepped back to contemplate where to begin.
A sudden hiss filled the room as the large steel door to his laboratory swung open, sparks bursting from the door lock as the dim lights from the corridor illuminated the entrance to his human abertoire. A flash of energy seemed to fill the doorway as a figure appeared. The doctor quickly stumbled backwards, grasping instinctively for a large red button he knew to be on the wall behind him.
"You..." hissed Doctor Hanjo.
Turning, the doctor saw and lunged for the alarm button. Reacting instantly Mathew fired a shot. His bullet entered the back of the doctors neck cleanly but exited explosively,spewing forth a spurt of blood and flesh which enveloped the button as the doctor lurched forward, his hand mashing against the alarm as he collapsed, gasping frantically as his skeletal fingers clutched and clawed at the gaping wound in his neck.
Without exhibiting any remorse Mathew quickly approached the table, glaring down at Elesie who remained still, oblivious to the events that had just occured.
"I am so sorry Ele" he whispered as he reached beneath her, easily lifting her from the table to place her over his right shoulder. "Let's get out of here."
His eyes shifted once more from glowing red orbs to almost opaque spheres as he rapidly surveyed the room, the walls fading from his view as he scanned the various access points and vents that lead from the room, anaylsing each path he quickly calculated his best route. His eyes came to rest on a waste disposal shoot which led directly into the Steel Canyon sewer system. Swiftly moving over to the large escape hatch, Mathew took a moment to glance behind him. The sound of approaching foot steps and voices seemed to near with each passing moment, with one deep breath he tightened his grip on Elesie, and jumped into the tunnel.
* * *
Rondel Simes casually entered the laboratory, his eyes scanning over its scattered contents. The empty steel slab in the center remained highlighted, tracks of blood not yet conjealed traced down the far wall. He approached the table while three of the Organisations guard's entered a moment later and dispersed through the room, ensuring the area was secure. He made his way towards the prone form of Doctor Hanjo who laboured desperately attempting to draw oxygen into his blood laden lungs.
"Wolf" the enraged Director growled between clenched teeth as he turned from the writhing form at his feet.
With a long drawn out sigh he ran his left hand through his short blonde curls before pulling his phone from inside his expensive tailored black jacket. An automatic series of key presses connected him with his closest subordinate who responded immediately.
"Crimson," said the Director "I think its time for a more elegant approach, and kindly bring a mop to G5"
To Be Continued. . .
Umm, well, im pushing towards 400 views, and ive had 1 piece of feedback, that was highly constructive and appreciated.
However i have been left wondering what exactly im doing wrong, is the vocabulary to diverse, are the chapters to long? is it difficult to read? is the text to bulky? is it complete [censored]?
I really dont know where im going wrong at the moment, and it is a little discouraging to be honest, any advice would be really really appreciated at this point in time. Im half way through chapter 3 at the moment and feel myself lacking in motivation to continue.
After reading your comments on my work I feel its only fair I respond in kind Abz, I will be honest and say I originally wanted to speed read it as I am still at work and would have perused it more thoroughly when I got home....however I found myself scrolling back and having to re read sections I had given only a cursory glance... making me stop reading altogether, now before you frown I mean this as a total compliment, the whole thing tho narrative heavy is exactly the kind of writing I like (i.e I prefer dan abnett over graham mcniell in the 40k novels due to the formers concise attention to details, no matter their importance) you really make it hard to stop reading, hence why I had to stop before I got moaned at for slacking 
Keep up the good work and ill be sure to give a more concise reply when ive read it fully
Art of War Co-Leader - Union *Global@Warscythe*
"The box said Windows Vista or better - so I installed Linux"
I cant say i have read much in the way of warhammer 40k literature, but I have always been intrigued and impressed with the blend of fantasy and sci-fi within its universe, but that aside hehe, im sorry for well causing you to get moaned at I do tend to try and be a little overly descriptive at times which perhaps occasionally is self destructive from a fan-fiction perspective.
Well I hope if you get round to reading this in its entirety you enjoy, and thanks for taking the time to offer some feedback.
Heh dont worry about you "causing" me to get moaned at, its something i do every day, im becoming a master at the art of slacking, but i read it last night and have to say its an enjoyable read, yes in parts its description heavy and this is by no means a knockdown just a constructive criticism, however i do lean towards enjoying more heavy reading, i despise some "famous" writers who seem to feel that by thinning out the narrative will be more accomodating, its nice to get lost in someones view of a world they have created.
So in all im not going to nitpick something i found enjoyable on the whole, and besides Leigh covered most points i would have mentioned....just keep up the good work Abz, looking forwards to more installments
Art of War Co-Leader - Union *Global@Warscythe*
"The box said Windows Vista or better - so I installed Linux"
Thanks for taking the time to offer some support, im working on Chapter 3 at the moment which im hoping will be up without a 2month delay this time hehe.
This moves the story along nicely, and now we finally start to see some of what's happening. A good follow on to the first piece and I like the use of different characters. There can be times when over use of character swapping confuses the reader, but that's hard to tell when only two chapters in. Just keep it in mind as you write the next bit.
There are some editing points which I've highlighted below. Mainly these fall in to the categories of repetition (words repeated close to each other), some sentences which are worded slightly wrong, and the over use of adjectives in a few places.
Too many adjectives is an easy trap to fall into when you are a descriptive writer by nature. This is not to say you shouldnt stop being descriptive, it's one of your talents, I would just suggest that you keep it balanced. Hopefully the examples below make what I mean easy to understand.
I guess your editing has suffered slightly because of the length of the piece. My best tip to solve this is write something, leave it a few days and get on with something else, then go back to it and edit it. Do this again so you've done a third edit and then either mark it as the final or do a forth edit that moves it to final. Don't edit more than four times though.
Let me know if I've not made sense or you want me to expand on anything, and keep up the good writing.
Editing points:
The absolute blackness of what she had percieved would have felt to most normal beings like a heavy slumber, but Indigo was not a 'normal being'.
But there was nothing normal about Indigo maybe?
Director Simes eyes shifted from Crimson to make eye contact with
His dreams of being a field operative had quickly been proven irrational, lacking any skill in combat or infiltration. Sounded a tad cumbersome to me.
With a long drawn out sigh he ran his left hand through his short blonde curls before pulling his phone from inside his expensive tailored black jacket. Over doing it slightly with the adjectives.
The sound of approaching foot steps and voices seemed to near with each passing moment
A bit of an edit needed.
Relieved he appeared to be in time, he accelerated towards the door, simultaneously aiming his 0.45 calibur revolver at the lock , he squeezed the trigger. A slightly unwieldy sentence in my mind.
This began as an attempt to add some depth to one of my characters ingame descriptions and quickly developed into my initial attempt at a piece of creative writing. I do have some plans as to where i hope to take this piece of fiction, though as this is my first piece of writing im testing the water a bit. Any constructive criticism and suggetions are more than welcome, and thanks for reading
Dark Transcendence
[u]Chapter 1[u]
Agent Seretta, born Elesie Ruth Seerhart, stared down the secluded Hong Kong alleyway, the darkness made more ominous by the relentless deluge; the frequent flashes of lightening staccato'd the appearance of her movements as though she were caught in the irregular pulse of a malfunctioning strobe light. The heavy rain obscured her vision, the tendrils of her long, silver hair clinging to the sides of her face like the threads of a thick, viscous spider web. Her immaculately tailored and expensive black silk suit had long since reached saturation point from the torrents of rain which cascaded down onto her narrow shoulders. Her white blouse and moderately flared silk pants clung uncomfortably to her slim frame as though they were a second skin.
A small rip ran around the upper portion of her jackets right sleeve, the tattered edges of the silk material darkened with the stain of her blood. The wound had only been minor and fortunately, due to her regenerative capabilities it had quickly healed, but the bloody stain had framed the injury leaving its mark on her expensive jacket.
Slowly proceeding down the alleyway, the clicks of her conservative black heeled shoes were drowned out by the hammering of the surrounding rain as it bounced off the ground beneath her creating a constant, deafening roar.
The nervous agent glanced behind her for a moment, her sudden movements and darting eyes betraying her usually confident persona. The subconscious part of her mind demanding her survival screamed for her to back away and leave this intimidating place, yet adrenaline surged through her veins driving her relentlessly onwards. Shakily reaching into her jacket pocket she removed a slim, silver cylinder like device, the hilt of one of her two vanguard issued Talsorian blades, a personal weapon of choice for the young agent. The elegant yet deadly pair of energy blades had become something of a trademark of hers amongst the Organisation and few argued her ability to utilise the weapons at an expert level. To her however the blades were more than simply a tool or weapon, but rather an organic extension of herself, the gentle soothing hum they released when activated coupled with the warmth that enveloped her hands when she wielded them granted her a sense of security and safety that she often felt she lacked in her obsessive and solitary work absorbed life.
Flicking the small switch on the side of the device triggered the blade to come to life, a large wave of energy arcing forwards to form a curved scythe like form of lethal dark purple matter causing the rain around it to evaporate in a constant hiss of steam.
It had been 6 months since she had first started tracking the rogue operative known as Agent Wolf. Her target had at a previous time been a member of the same Organisation as her, they had exchanged ideas, joked together, after her first mission she had confided in him and a relationship of trust and support had developed between them both. Existence within the Organisation provided a cold reality, a shadowy introvert life where identities were reduced to code names and hear say of exploits. In her 3 years of service, and with the exception of her superior, he had been the only person to address her as Elesie.
It came as a horrifying surprise when she heard the report that he had betrayed the Organisation disappearing with information and technology that had been declared vital to the Organisations security. It was through her persistent requests she had been assigned to the task of tracking him down despite the head of her department, Crimson, stating his objections over her inexperience in both tactics and combat when compared to the veteran target.
Only moments ago she had been painfully close to finalising her mission. Standing before the man she knew so well yet could no longer recognise. Cursing her own foolishness for believing she could have reasoned with someone who had an understanding of his own actions that extended far beyond what her own experience and knowledge could comprehend. Her impulsiveness to deactivate her weapons and approach her target, in an attempt to blindly defend a stance she barely understood, had left her wounded both physically and mentally. Her mind replayed her recently uttered words of pleading, which reluctantly she realised had been both weak and ill-judged.
"Wolf..., Mathew..., please..., please come back, the Organisation wants you back, they said they will forget this incident, youre like a hero at that place.... What your doing is wrong..., they need you.....I need you.... "
Her final words had faded softly as the conviction in her voice was replaced by a tone of desperation. The embrace she wished he would grant her never came, the event she had envisioned in her idealistic mind was replaced by the unveiling of the naïve sense of morality she had been conditioned to believe in. Her world had been questioned and now she pursued her target out of confusion more so than a passion for her mission, 'What did he mean? What did I expect? What am I doing?' Her self interrogation continued with each step she took, her world cracked around her as his words echoed repeatedly through her mind inspiring these questions that shattered her confidence. In her attempt to reason with him and bring him home he had enlightened her to the unseen actions of those around her and in doing so he had exposed her inexperience of life. The Organisation was all she had known, it was her life, without it she had nothing, that concept alone terrified her, how could she forfeit what had become the primary composition of her existence.
Whats right, whats wrong, whats heroic, whats evil, who decides this? The heros of today are those grasping life by the throat, making their own destiny, shaping their own future and the future of those around them, morality has become another tool that cages humanity to the will of others. To follow orders obediently without question due to a false sense of morality is a barrier I have transcended. Those you consider your superiors stride towards aims without a care for the path they carve behind them. My dearest Elesie, I am sorry, so, so sorry.
With those last words he had swiftly drawn his weapon and fired, delivering a glancing shot to her arm. The unexpected assault had left her staggering backwards, instinctively gripping her injured appendage. He was an expert marksman, known and feared as one of the Organisations greatest assassins, the best she had known in her brief life. She knew instantly he had no intentions of killing her, despite her self-healing capabilities he could have dealt far more damage at such a close range. He was aware more than most, of her ability to regenerate, a glancing shot to her bicep would have been futile for any other purpose, than to escape. Within the moment it had taken her to rationalise his actions he had fled out of the open park where their confrontation had occurred. Without time to rationalise the situation she had thoughtlessly given chase.
She continued to attempt to absorb and reassess her situation, whilst progressing further into the dark alleyway. The never-ending hail of rain refused to cease, the feeling of cold water running down her face had become the sole reminder to her that what was happening was no unpleasant dream.
Her movements came to a sudden halt at hearing the pistol click behind her head. The barrel pressed firmly through her matted wet hair to rest against the back of her skull.
Her legs weakened as she suddenly became attuned with the feeling of her heart pounding inside her chest, a sense of fear engulfing her as the fragments of adrenaline that had been driving her onwards through the alleyway drained away, being replaced with a sense of vulnerability and mortality she had not previously experienced. With a quivering voice she struggled to speak.
Mathew I I dont know what to do she stammered.
Regenerating from cuts and falls was easy, a broken bone could meld together perfectly in minutes, but a bullet to the back of the head she was not so sure of. Her mind raced with thoughts of self doubt and her own demise. She did not want it to end here, not in this dark alley, not at the hands of her closest friend, not completely alone. The blade she carried slipped from her shivering hand, deactivating as the metal hilt bounced across the cold wet concrete beneath her. A single tear formed in the corner of her right eye, a glistening bead of water that briefly stood out from the millions of droplets that fell from the sky above, slowly running down her cheek to merge with the pouring rain that engulfed her.
I did ask you not to take this assignment Ele
A calm, precise and hauntingly familiar voice came from the man behind her, and with his few words the final crack in the glass of her world formed.
Crimson?
Was the only word that managed to escape her throat before she heard the pull of the trigger, the gunshot echoing against the walls of the alley, for a brief moment silencing the hammering rain.
The petite agent slumped forward collapsing against the wet stone floor next to the hilt she had held moments earlier, unmoving as her executioner casually withdrew his gun to the holster inside his jacket. Withdrawing a cigar and silver old fashioned lighter from an inside pocket he brought the thick tube of carefully prepared tobacco to his slightly parted lips. A quick flick of the lighter formed a generous flame, un-phased by the pouring rain he brought it to meet the cigars tip as he deeply inhaled; His expression remained emotionless as he glanced down at the still form before him, her vacant blue eyes staring absently along the glistening, black, wet floor that was gradually transforming into a diluted shade of red. A low sigh escaped his lips before releasing a large plume of smoke from his sizeable lungs, taking a moment to savour the taste of the best Cuba had to offer before he casually turned and left the alley.
To Be Continued...