Before the Quake [Part 3]

[pieface101 285]

Part 1

Part 2

 

Before the Quake

__________________________________________________________________

 

From many lands afar they came

Glory or vengeance for they sought

With common pride and virtue had

Choosing the rightful path they thought

 

Here at the crossroads heroes meet

Built on the blood and tears of men

Glory shone on the tasks of valor

Done before the lion's den

 

The lull in action before the storm

 Seen in the sky and crystal lake

The sun shines bright and birds do sing

Always peace before the quake

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

The Assassin

 

The Tiger-507 was one of the most advanced military vehicles, and a secret that lost men their lives when they announced it to the public. Built like its namesake, it had a bulky body but surprising grace and stealth. The scope of the Tiger-507 was specially designed to be laser controlled, allowing unimaginable accuracy from a significant distance away. The only drawback was the tiny red dot that would show up on the target, possibly alerting it to the danger.

 

As the assassin sat in the Tiger, making his way across the desert to another military compound, he could not help but wonder how important General Enton considered this. Not only was he allowed to take any transportation he asked for, but also be given any budget he asked for. Theoretically, he could ask for a hefty loan and make off with it, but the assassin was a man of his word. On the other hand, he never forgot unfinished promises made to him. 

 

As the Tiger glided through the desert, even the stifling hot air could not suppress the sense of importance the assassin felt. General Enton had practically begged him to hunt down one of the most notorious terrorists alive. Sure, it would be a more difficult task than most, but he felt certain he could handle it. Chuckling to himself, the assassin aimed the scope at a lizard. The last thing the poor beast saw was a flash of red.

 

Looking at his map, the assassin turned onto a minor road to a small town where he would pick up supplies and swap the Tiger for a helicopter. As the dunes and scraggly rocks and bushes sped past, the assassin considered falling asleep, but quickly thought against it. It was a grave mistake to let his attention lapse, even for a moment. He shook his head, and stared ahead at the road, where a little boy was sitting.

 

"Hey kid! Get off the road!" the assassin called out, not stopping or slowing down.

 

The boy looked up, mystified by the strange vehicle the assassin was driving.

 

"I'm warning you! Get off now!" said the assassin, accelerating.

 

Rather than getting off the road, the boy backed up slowly, speaking very quickly in a foreign language. When the assassin didn't slow down at all, the boy's eyes widened, and he dove for the side, too slow as the assassin rammed into him. The assassin kept on driving, ignoring the crunching sounds, the screaming, and the spray of red. Fifteen years on the job had a way of turning one's heart into ice.

 

For security's sake, the assassin slowed down and went back to the boy, who was somehow still alive. The assassin picked up the boy and snapped his neck, before dumping him in some bushes by the side. He sprayed an aroma in the air, which would make the vultures appear much quicker. If it didn't work, the assassin was putting whoever sold the thing to him on his "to kill" list.

 

The assassin skipped back to the Tiger, and took out some rags, washing the blood off. He then went back to the scene of the crime, and covered it up with sand. Hopefully, that would throw authorities off for a while.

 

At nightfall, the assassin arrived at the town, easily passing security with his fake diplomatic pass. The border patrols shouted warm greetings after him and pointed towards the embassies. As if he cared about what they had to say.

 

Arriving at the inn, the assassin checked his tracker. He smiled. Years of experience allowed him to predict his victim's moves. Instead of chasing after his victim, he would stay one step ahead of the game.

 

Tewu

 

Tewu glared daggers at the soldier standing across from him. Served him right; he had murdered Little Eno, along with several others. He reached for the pistol in his pocket.

 

"Look, I don't mean any harm. This is just a big misunderstanding." began the strange man, stuttering and holding his hands out. The scene was strangely comical, yet Tewu did not feel like laughing.

 

"A misunderstanding what? A misunderstanding that you seized our land from us? A misunderstanding that you murdered our families in cold blood? A misunderstanding that caused us so much pain and suffering?" Tewu shouted at the soldier.

 

"Believe me, I didn't mean any of this." the soldier started.

 

"I didn't mean any of this either. My grandparents were living in a village long before you men. You came and seized the land from them. From us. You preach about equal rights. Do we have equal rights? Is this so called 'equal rights' the reason that you seized this from us? You can deny us our land. You can deny the lives of our people. But can you demolish the crimes you have committed?" Tewu spat.

 

The soldier looked like he was trying to swallow a watermelon. "Look, we may have taken the land from you, but..."

 

"But what?"

 

"Look. It's hard to explain."

 

"Of course it is. If it was easy to explain, it wouldn't be wrong."

 

"No, but see, we were a people that were exiled. We needed our own country. We could only negotiate with local authorities. They treated us badly for our beliefs. Our families were killed. Slaughtered. Eventually, we gained our independence. And then the insurgents fought back. They were enraged at us, right as our families settled down. Our children and the elderly. I have a wife back home I need to return to. Please. I just need to capture an insurgent leader. His name is Sergei Mansworth."

 

"Quite frankly, I find that hard to believe." Tewu said coldly, although a shiver ran down his spine. Sergei Mansworth. He knew that name. It was the government official who offered Tewu the home and the mission. The man who revealed Zeku's head. The man. The memories. His family. Tewu fought hard to keep tears at bay.

 

"No, actually. Please. We have families too. It doesn't have to be this way." the soldier coaxed.

 

"What justifies you kicking us off our land and killing our families then? We were just fighting back. Fighting for our lives."

 

"No you weren't. You didn't welcome us and tried to push us away from our new settlement. Don't you understand? We had no home. We were exiled. We needed a home. We settled here, hoping for a warm welcome from the locals. Instead, we were attacked. We had to fight back."

 

"Oh. So you expect us to welcome an intruder?!"

 

"We aren't intruders. We are guests. The host doesn't attack his guest, does he?"

 

Tewu had reached his boiling point. He took his pistol out, and nodded at the rest of the children. They wielded various weapons of their own. They were all willing to fight for their families. Their broken promises. Their spirit.

 

"Permission to kill."

 

Somewhere in a parallel universe, the prince and evil wizard charged at each other.

 

The Assassin

 

The assassin surveyed the battle from his stealth helicopter overhead. The little boy and the target stood apart from each other, faces hard as if in an argument. Behind the little boy were the other children. They wouldn't stand a chance against the powerful guns the target's squad was equipped with. However, they probably would bridge the gap to the target, killing him. The assassin wouldn't have to lift a finger.

 

"Yo dawg, you sure you don't want me to fly closer?" asked Jerome, the pilot. The assassin sighed. He was going to kill this man after this. But not now.

 

"No. And if you call me dawg again, I will skin you alive."

 

Jerome paled and nodded. It didn't matter anyways, thought the assassin. Jerome was as good as dead. He just needed to pretend Jerome had a chance of living. He sighed, and turned back to watch the battle.

 

The children took out various weapons. Sticks and stones, but the lucky ones had pistols. Still others had their fists. The target backed up slowly, while the children advanced on him. Any sudden move, and the field would be launched into chaos.

 

The snipers kept their guns trained on the children. They held a firm allegiance to the target, so the assassin considered killing them. He decided against it for the time being. After all, there was a good chance the target would die.

 

And then one of the snipers fired a shot. A crack. The world seemed on edge for a moment, as if in shock. No one moved. The assassin was about to get impatient and throttle Jerome and everyone else, when all hell broke loose.

 

The children surged forwards in a great wave of anger, charging onto the hill like a tsunami. They wielded their makeshift weapons, with anger and certainty in their eyes, as if they knew this was the last battle they would fight in, determined to go out in a blaze of glory.

 

At their head was the boy talking, Tewu, like an enraged bull, heading straight for the target, Watson. Not even firing his pistol, determined to crush Watson to a pulp, he charged, with a fire in his eyes. As bullets flew around him, he marched on unscathed, like an immortal.

 

As cracks resounded, mowing down wave after wave of children, they were replenished constantly, like an endless waterfall, crashing over the rocks. A little girl, barely able to walk, was knocked clean off her feet, crashing into those behind her and knocking them all down, like a bowling ball.

 

The children were being picked off from both the front and the back. As the assassin watched, a man emerged from behind the buildings and began firing. No doubt the man known as "Beckett". He needed to eliminate the threat immediately. He focused on the man's neck through a scope, and fired a shot. A spurt of blood shot out from the neck of Beckett. Jerome trembled and cowered in his seat. The assassin fired another shot, just for show. Jerome hid further.

 

"Yo dawg, could you stop firing, please?" Jerome called out meekly. The assassin glared at him.

 

"What did I tell you about calling me dawg?"

 

Jerome trembled visibly, his knees knocking together. "I... I'm sorry."

 

The assassin shook his head. "Open the door."

 

"Why?"

 

"Just do it!" the assassin hollered.

 

"Okay, okay. Calm down." Jerome said, unlocking the door. As soon as he turned around, the assassin swung around with a grunt and kicked Jerome square in the gut. A look of shock and fear spread across his face as he flew out the door, tumbling towards the rocks below, screaming. The assassin looked over the edge.

 

"Bye bye!"

Edited December 22, 2016 by Quarks

[NERF836 202]

This is scary! But great article.

[NERF836 202]

When's part four?

R.I.P patience.

[pieface101 285]

When's part four?

R.I.P patience.

Unfortunately, the series has been discontinued until further notice due to lack of attention and/or author boredom.

 

Referring to yourself in the third is the first sign of insanity :P