Categories > Original > Fantasy
The Shadows - Chapter One
0 reviewsA man goes around and he is trying to find his past. He knows it, but he yet he doesn't. His travels lead him into danger but he has one goal: find his family or what is left of it.
0Unrated
The night was dark and quiet as the wind blew through the streets of Vliashire, near the Moonlit Distant Jungles, where beasts roamed the wilderness. And it was peaceful. Or so it seemed. To a by-passer, the jungle edge was undisturbed. But eyes can play tricks.
A man, concealed from sight, was covered head to toe with the armor of the deepest black. Between the armor’s plates, lines of deep blue showed, and on his shoulder, a symbol was engraved.
His breath was quick and shallow, and his head rested on his chest as he crouched in the jungle’s edge. He looked up, scanning the streets in view of dangers and pedestrians. There was none. But he waited still.
Two guards with tranquilizer guns walked across the street, making their rounds. The man waited a few minutes even after their voices had faded. Then he ran across to the outskirts of the city.
Pressing his back against a building, he knocked on an old, abandoned factory door. Two knocks, pause, four knocks, pause, one knock.
The door opened, and he walked inside, but not before hesitating for a split second. As silently as it had opened, the door shut behind him.
His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw men in work clothes, in fancy suits, and even street clothes. The eyes of the men were the same cold, calculating eyes of people you usually avoided.
The man in black paused, taking in his surroundings and was panting. He shifted position, putting more weight on one leg than the other.
“You have what I asked for?” the man spoke.
“Do you?” replied one of the men. He wore slacks, with a white t-shirt and a brown leather jacket. His eyes were a piercing green and he had short golden hair.
The man in armor took a few steps forward and placed a few small objects on the floor. Then he stepped back.
“Hmmm…. You did follow your word,” the other said with mild satisfaction.
“Now you follow your word, Drake.” replied the man.
Drake laughed, short and cruel. “Should I? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, you are a criminal. And by turning you in, imagine the reward we’re getting! He’s all yours, Lieutenant Zerkief! Boys, let’s go home.”
“With pleasure,” drawled a voice of loathing and distaste. When the men dispersed, soldiers in white stepped forward, lead by a man in an officer’s uniform. The man in black snarled and cursed.
“Hey, now! Don’t be like that! No one likes people who use that type of language, now do we?” spoke Lieutenant Zerkief. “But then again, it’s like finding a diamond in cow manure for you to even make any noise. Give up, soldier. You’re outnumbered”
The man growled and produced a blade, ready to fight.
“Kill him.”
✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴
A man, concealed from sight, was covered head to toe with the armor of the deepest black. Between the armor’s plates, lines of deep blue showed, and on his shoulder, a symbol was engraved.
His breath was quick and shallow, and his head rested on his chest as he crouched in the jungle’s edge. He looked up, scanning the streets in view of dangers and pedestrians. There was none. But he waited still.
Two guards with tranquilizer guns walked across the street, making their rounds. The man waited a few minutes even after their voices had faded. Then he ran across to the outskirts of the city.
Pressing his back against a building, he knocked on an old, abandoned factory door. Two knocks, pause, four knocks, pause, one knock.
The door opened, and he walked inside, but not before hesitating for a split second. As silently as it had opened, the door shut behind him.
His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw men in work clothes, in fancy suits, and even street clothes. The eyes of the men were the same cold, calculating eyes of people you usually avoided.
The man in black paused, taking in his surroundings and was panting. He shifted position, putting more weight on one leg than the other.
“You have what I asked for?” the man spoke.
“Do you?” replied one of the men. He wore slacks, with a white t-shirt and a brown leather jacket. His eyes were a piercing green and he had short golden hair.
The man in armor took a few steps forward and placed a few small objects on the floor. Then he stepped back.
“Hmmm…. You did follow your word,” the other said with mild satisfaction.
“Now you follow your word, Drake.” replied the man.
Drake laughed, short and cruel. “Should I? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, you are a criminal. And by turning you in, imagine the reward we’re getting! He’s all yours, Lieutenant Zerkief! Boys, let’s go home.”
“With pleasure,” drawled a voice of loathing and distaste. When the men dispersed, soldiers in white stepped forward, lead by a man in an officer’s uniform. The man in black snarled and cursed.
“Hey, now! Don’t be like that! No one likes people who use that type of language, now do we?” spoke Lieutenant Zerkief. “But then again, it’s like finding a diamond in cow manure for you to even make any noise. Give up, soldier. You’re outnumbered”
The man growled and produced a blade, ready to fight.
“Kill him.”
✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴
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