Post by Dante "Vagabond" Coles on Aug 3, 2007 18:39:20 GMT -5
The warehouses. They were a part of the city, but cast aside to the very outskirts of civilization. Storage units for that which wasn’t necessary. Metal behemoths creating a massive maze of identical lanes and alleyways; only to be differentiated by the massive company logos placed over the great doors. Put there as if the banner of some conquering country, marking the building as their own while advertising their name to those unfortunate to find themselves in this part of civilization.
Dante gazed over them now, from the very edge of their territory, the one to his left marked with a large Frito-Lays logo, while the one on his right was a great Five Star logo. A warehouse full of chips, and another full of binders and exercise books. Down the lane many similar logos screamed toward him, yet he paid them no attention.
The Two were here somewhere, in this massive maze of metal mammoths. He laid his hands on the phone in his pocket, just to make sure it was still there. Someone, female, had called him, told him she was at the warehouses. The only reason he found himself there now was because he was sure this was not the next breadcrumb. No, Steele was the next breadcrumb, so the Two wouldn’t interfere, not yet. This was outside of their plans; for him at least.
Overhead the clouds threatened to unleash their watery loads down upon the area. With a flick of the brim on his hat, the man known as Vagabond set himself into this maze. His mind set; the Two were there, he will find them. He will end them. It was just a matter of finding the girl first. And luckily for him, she wanted him to find her.
It wasn’t quite so easy. He had imagined the search to be simple. There couldn’t be that many brand names wishing to store their stuff here. He could easily cover all the ground until he found some sign of her. Or them. At the thought of running into the two of them, he felt the handle of the gun in his pocket. Since his first encounter with them, he took care of it. It will not jam this time. The bullet would strike home, no problem.
But he was wrong. In the end there were far too many companies, many of them shipping the same crap as others. Even more of a hassle were the companies that needed two warehouses, in a few cases even three. It made him angry at everything that was civilization, all the useless needs, all the pointless urges and cravings, feeding the corporate fat cats and causing them to release more.
No... he couldn’t let the rage overcome him. It was welling up inside him at the thought of the Two being so close, soon to meet their end. His moment was drawing nigh. After all this, their sadistic pleasure in other people’s misery will be their downfall. They had slipped up, and he would make sure they knew it.
There was a scream.
Dante took off at a run. He knew his pace; the pace he could run so that he wouldn’t tire out as quickly as he would sprinting, yet cover more ground than he would jogging. Turn after turn through the alleys and lanes, he headed in the direction he had heard the scream coming from.
The rain finally came as he ran. It came in an utter downpour, so much it actually created poor visibility. But Dante wasn’t running by sight. Once he had heard the scream he had turned his inner compass, that which guided him on his journeys, took him where he was needed, to the direction it had come from. Using the little visibility he had, he turned corner after corner.
He turned the last corner and saw them. Their black and white outfits were turning dark as the rain drenched them. Roger was leaning against a dumpster, combing his hair against the futile attempts the rain was making to mess it up. Johnny was knelt down beside a prone figure, whispering something through the drenched auburn hair into the girl’s ear. She was held down by some goon.
Immediately Dante drew the gun, but they had caught sight of him even before he realized it. Both Johnny and Roger drew their own guns at the same time, much quicker at the draw; from experience most likely. Dante dove for the ground as they fired. No words this time. No mucking around. They knew he would fire.
Then they were rushing down the alleyway. The rain dripped from the brim of his hat as the goon, loyal to the end, started to draw his gun. One quick shot from Dante’s gun took him off his feet, planting him back on the ground. He could just make out the Two as they reached the end of the alleyway.
Time slowed.
He could see each raindrop as it came down, landing in little miniature explosions in the puddles. They fell thicker from his hat, where they had built up in his flight through the rain. The Two were drenched and getting wetter. Roger had his comb in one hand and the gun in the other, while Johnny ran with just his gun. But neither weren’t really running. In a look back, Dante could almost see a mocking look on Johnny’s face.
The girl on the ground was getting up. Panic in her eyes. He knew she would begin to flee. But she wouldn’t be fast enough, by the time she got out of his way he would lose his shot on the Two. He had to take down one of the monsters. At least one. Without them both together they would not be nearly as organized, as planned as they usually were.
If he shot now, there was no telling what would happen. Perhaps he could take one of them, but the girl. The auburn hair clung to her forehead as her hazel eyes darted about. Her left arm was a bit awkward, pulling back as she put weight on it. If he shot now, he might take her. Right in the head.
No, he knew this scenario. It was all too familiar to him. It had haunted his dreams for the past year. The past year, almost to the day! He knew exactly how this would end. Dead goon on the ground, himself on the ground, the Two, the monsters, fleeing the alleyway, the girl getting up, panicked and ready to run herself.
Shoot! screamed the rage inside of him. Shoot and end this!
Vagabond was on his way. He had said so. She didn’t know if he would come, or even if it would be too late when he did, but he was the only one to respond. The phone in her hand had said so. It didn’t vibrate anymore, then the signal disappeared. Would he come? Would she still be alive when he did?
Her heart beat in her throat as she heard footsteps. Each one landed with a thud, echoed by another beat of her furiously beating heart. She clutched her left arm with her right to keep it from brushing against anything. She would not be able to keep herself from crying out in pain if she did. And if she cried out, they would know.
The British accents picked up again, one of them said something to the other. His voice was low, she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Hazel eyes darted about the other side of alleyway, half expecting to see one of them turn the corner and look right at her, piercing her soul, torturing her with a mere gaze.
No more footsteps. None at all. She held her breath, as she had done reflexively when they had come so close. Had they gone on to the next alleyway? Had they left her hiding spot alone? Was she safe to get up and move on?
It was a chance she had to take. If she stuck around there, they would find her. No, they wouldn’t find her. They couldn’t find her. She had promised herself she would make it through this! Slowly, and to herself, she counted to three.
1...
2...
3! She got up and darted for the end of the alleyway. Turning the corner she ran flat out, dodging down another alleyway on the opposite side of the lane. She didn’t know where she was going, but if she continued crossing lanes she would eventually reach the end of the end of the industrialized area. In the woods, or in the city, she would find better hiding, or even help!
Dumpster!
She narrowly dodged the metal shape, stumbling. Her footing was lost again and the ground was rushing up at her. Oh so familiar. She shot out her right arm, but it was not enough to catch her. Not with the momentum of her flight. Not with the full weight of her body coming down with it. There was no snap, it just slipped to the side. Her head hit the pavement and cried out in surprise and pain.
Stars.
They were everywhere in her vision as the darkness closed in around them. The edges of the warehouse against the ominous sky grew blurry as her vision unfocused. A raindrop smacked her in the head. They were coming down so fast, and so slow at the same time. Her head throbbed. Where was she? Warehouses... were they warehouses? Yes.
Then there was a hand over her mouth, muffling another cry in surprise. Hazel eyes glanced about, her vision still blotted with stars and her auburn hair matting her face, yet she was still able to pick out the face that stared back at her. Where she had been hoping to see a stranger, the image she had conjured of Vagabond, she saw only the white suited monster, grinning with a maniacal look in his features.
“Well, dear, it seems your little escapade has come to an end. You won’t be eloping on us, dear Hermia,”
Who? Quotes from the Shakespeare played through in her head through the throbbing fog. It was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But this wasn’t night, and this was no dream. She was sure of that.
It was a nightmare.
She realized there was another weight on her, keeping her where she was. Out of the corner of her eye she made out a dark suited figure, but not the other monster. No, not quite as distinguished, this one looked like a regular mafia-style goon. He had his foot on her, keeping her pinned to the ground.
But then the goon and the white suited monster looked up. The monster was quickest, drawing his gun. Were they going to shoot her? No, they weren’t, they were looking at something else. White-Suit’s shot was echoed by another shot from nearby, then White-Suit headed away from her at a run. The goon remained where he was, then his chest exploded and he fell backward.
She was free! She was no longer pinned. The rain beat down, her left arm ached and her head was throbbing with pain, but she was still alive. Maybe she would get out of this. As she put her right hand down to push herself up, she realized she still had the phone in her hand. They hadn’t taken it from her. But why did they flee?
She turned around to see a gun aimed right for her.
Shoot! You can do it!
No! called the voice of reasoning back against the rage. The girl! Don’t let her be another Annabelle.
The name struck home in his head. Panting heavily, he dropped the gun just as the Two disappeared around the corner, just as the girl finished standing up, eyes wide and staring at the gun. If he had shot, she would be lying on the ground next to the goon, those hazel eyes fading. He could picture it so clearly inside his head now, but no, she was standing there.
He could not let his rage overcome him. The same rage that caused him to chase these monsters for what they did would not recreate that very incident. He would never be able to forgive himself for that.
“Vagabond?” squeaked a voice ridden with fear. It took a moment before he realized it had come from her.
“Call me Dante.”
Dante gazed over them now, from the very edge of their territory, the one to his left marked with a large Frito-Lays logo, while the one on his right was a great Five Star logo. A warehouse full of chips, and another full of binders and exercise books. Down the lane many similar logos screamed toward him, yet he paid them no attention.
The Two were here somewhere, in this massive maze of metal mammoths. He laid his hands on the phone in his pocket, just to make sure it was still there. Someone, female, had called him, told him she was at the warehouses. The only reason he found himself there now was because he was sure this was not the next breadcrumb. No, Steele was the next breadcrumb, so the Two wouldn’t interfere, not yet. This was outside of their plans; for him at least.
Overhead the clouds threatened to unleash their watery loads down upon the area. With a flick of the brim on his hat, the man known as Vagabond set himself into this maze. His mind set; the Two were there, he will find them. He will end them. It was just a matter of finding the girl first. And luckily for him, she wanted him to find her.
It wasn’t quite so easy. He had imagined the search to be simple. There couldn’t be that many brand names wishing to store their stuff here. He could easily cover all the ground until he found some sign of her. Or them. At the thought of running into the two of them, he felt the handle of the gun in his pocket. Since his first encounter with them, he took care of it. It will not jam this time. The bullet would strike home, no problem.
But he was wrong. In the end there were far too many companies, many of them shipping the same crap as others. Even more of a hassle were the companies that needed two warehouses, in a few cases even three. It made him angry at everything that was civilization, all the useless needs, all the pointless urges and cravings, feeding the corporate fat cats and causing them to release more.
No... he couldn’t let the rage overcome him. It was welling up inside him at the thought of the Two being so close, soon to meet their end. His moment was drawing nigh. After all this, their sadistic pleasure in other people’s misery will be their downfall. They had slipped up, and he would make sure they knew it.
There was a scream.
Dante took off at a run. He knew his pace; the pace he could run so that he wouldn’t tire out as quickly as he would sprinting, yet cover more ground than he would jogging. Turn after turn through the alleys and lanes, he headed in the direction he had heard the scream coming from.
The rain finally came as he ran. It came in an utter downpour, so much it actually created poor visibility. But Dante wasn’t running by sight. Once he had heard the scream he had turned his inner compass, that which guided him on his journeys, took him where he was needed, to the direction it had come from. Using the little visibility he had, he turned corner after corner.
He turned the last corner and saw them. Their black and white outfits were turning dark as the rain drenched them. Roger was leaning against a dumpster, combing his hair against the futile attempts the rain was making to mess it up. Johnny was knelt down beside a prone figure, whispering something through the drenched auburn hair into the girl’s ear. She was held down by some goon.
Immediately Dante drew the gun, but they had caught sight of him even before he realized it. Both Johnny and Roger drew their own guns at the same time, much quicker at the draw; from experience most likely. Dante dove for the ground as they fired. No words this time. No mucking around. They knew he would fire.
Then they were rushing down the alleyway. The rain dripped from the brim of his hat as the goon, loyal to the end, started to draw his gun. One quick shot from Dante’s gun took him off his feet, planting him back on the ground. He could just make out the Two as they reached the end of the alleyway.
Time slowed.
He could see each raindrop as it came down, landing in little miniature explosions in the puddles. They fell thicker from his hat, where they had built up in his flight through the rain. The Two were drenched and getting wetter. Roger had his comb in one hand and the gun in the other, while Johnny ran with just his gun. But neither weren’t really running. In a look back, Dante could almost see a mocking look on Johnny’s face.
The girl on the ground was getting up. Panic in her eyes. He knew she would begin to flee. But she wouldn’t be fast enough, by the time she got out of his way he would lose his shot on the Two. He had to take down one of the monsters. At least one. Without them both together they would not be nearly as organized, as planned as they usually were.
If he shot now, there was no telling what would happen. Perhaps he could take one of them, but the girl. The auburn hair clung to her forehead as her hazel eyes darted about. Her left arm was a bit awkward, pulling back as she put weight on it. If he shot now, he might take her. Right in the head.
No, he knew this scenario. It was all too familiar to him. It had haunted his dreams for the past year. The past year, almost to the day! He knew exactly how this would end. Dead goon on the ground, himself on the ground, the Two, the monsters, fleeing the alleyway, the girl getting up, panicked and ready to run herself.
Shoot! screamed the rage inside of him. Shoot and end this!
* * *
Vagabond was on his way. He had said so. She didn’t know if he would come, or even if it would be too late when he did, but he was the only one to respond. The phone in her hand had said so. It didn’t vibrate anymore, then the signal disappeared. Would he come? Would she still be alive when he did?
Her heart beat in her throat as she heard footsteps. Each one landed with a thud, echoed by another beat of her furiously beating heart. She clutched her left arm with her right to keep it from brushing against anything. She would not be able to keep herself from crying out in pain if she did. And if she cried out, they would know.
The British accents picked up again, one of them said something to the other. His voice was low, she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Hazel eyes darted about the other side of alleyway, half expecting to see one of them turn the corner and look right at her, piercing her soul, torturing her with a mere gaze.
No more footsteps. None at all. She held her breath, as she had done reflexively when they had come so close. Had they gone on to the next alleyway? Had they left her hiding spot alone? Was she safe to get up and move on?
It was a chance she had to take. If she stuck around there, they would find her. No, they wouldn’t find her. They couldn’t find her. She had promised herself she would make it through this! Slowly, and to herself, she counted to three.
1...
2...
3! She got up and darted for the end of the alleyway. Turning the corner she ran flat out, dodging down another alleyway on the opposite side of the lane. She didn’t know where she was going, but if she continued crossing lanes she would eventually reach the end of the end of the industrialized area. In the woods, or in the city, she would find better hiding, or even help!
Dumpster!
She narrowly dodged the metal shape, stumbling. Her footing was lost again and the ground was rushing up at her. Oh so familiar. She shot out her right arm, but it was not enough to catch her. Not with the momentum of her flight. Not with the full weight of her body coming down with it. There was no snap, it just slipped to the side. Her head hit the pavement and cried out in surprise and pain.
Stars.
They were everywhere in her vision as the darkness closed in around them. The edges of the warehouse against the ominous sky grew blurry as her vision unfocused. A raindrop smacked her in the head. They were coming down so fast, and so slow at the same time. Her head throbbed. Where was she? Warehouses... were they warehouses? Yes.
Then there was a hand over her mouth, muffling another cry in surprise. Hazel eyes glanced about, her vision still blotted with stars and her auburn hair matting her face, yet she was still able to pick out the face that stared back at her. Where she had been hoping to see a stranger, the image she had conjured of Vagabond, she saw only the white suited monster, grinning with a maniacal look in his features.
“Well, dear, it seems your little escapade has come to an end. You won’t be eloping on us, dear Hermia,”
Who? Quotes from the Shakespeare played through in her head through the throbbing fog. It was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But this wasn’t night, and this was no dream. She was sure of that.
It was a nightmare.
She realized there was another weight on her, keeping her where she was. Out of the corner of her eye she made out a dark suited figure, but not the other monster. No, not quite as distinguished, this one looked like a regular mafia-style goon. He had his foot on her, keeping her pinned to the ground.
But then the goon and the white suited monster looked up. The monster was quickest, drawing his gun. Were they going to shoot her? No, they weren’t, they were looking at something else. White-Suit’s shot was echoed by another shot from nearby, then White-Suit headed away from her at a run. The goon remained where he was, then his chest exploded and he fell backward.
She was free! She was no longer pinned. The rain beat down, her left arm ached and her head was throbbing with pain, but she was still alive. Maybe she would get out of this. As she put her right hand down to push herself up, she realized she still had the phone in her hand. They hadn’t taken it from her. But why did they flee?
She turned around to see a gun aimed right for her.
* * *
Shoot! You can do it!
No! called the voice of reasoning back against the rage. The girl! Don’t let her be another Annabelle.
The name struck home in his head. Panting heavily, he dropped the gun just as the Two disappeared around the corner, just as the girl finished standing up, eyes wide and staring at the gun. If he had shot, she would be lying on the ground next to the goon, those hazel eyes fading. He could picture it so clearly inside his head now, but no, she was standing there.
He could not let his rage overcome him. The same rage that caused him to chase these monsters for what they did would not recreate that very incident. He would never be able to forgive himself for that.
“Vagabond?” squeaked a voice ridden with fear. It took a moment before he realized it had come from her.
“Call me Dante.”