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#Post#: 9785--------------------------------------------------
Of Gods and Hunters
By: FloatingInSpace Date: December 17, 2015, 9:06 pm
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[center][font=Times New Roman][size=5]Of Gods and Hunters[/font]
The night is cold and long
The day is moreso.
#Post#: 14737--------------------------------------------------
Re: Of Gods and Hunters
By: FloatingInSpace Date: December 25, 2015, 8:34 pm
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[center][font=Times New Roman][size=3]Reserved for Future Use
#Post#: 14738--------------------------------------------------
Re: Of Gods and Hunters
By: FloatingInSpace Date: December 25, 2015, 8:34 pm
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[center][font=Times New Roman][size=3]Reserved for Future Use
#Post#: 14739--------------------------------------------------
Re: Of Gods and Hunters
By: FloatingInSpace Date: December 25, 2015, 8:34 pm
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[center][font=Times New Roman][size=3]Reserved for Future Use
#Post#: 14740--------------------------------------------------
Re: Of Gods and Hunters
By: FloatingInSpace Date: December 25, 2015, 8:35 pm
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The familiar rattling noise of the bus filled the air. Men and
women sat on the plastic chairs, staring forward with vacant
eyes after a day or standing on their feet or combing through
papers that they would never see again or might see a thousand
more times. Some clung to the cracking handlebars above, rocking
back and forth to the steady lurch of the bus, their eyes as
empty as the ones sitting down. Some of them clutched ratty
suitcases that had seen far too many uses, dressed in fraying
suits. Others had dirt-crusted boots and bright vests and hands
roughed from hours of labor.
The bus hissed to a stop and opened its doors at a stop as
rustic as the others with a cold metal seat and a flimsy plastic
overhang that leaked even though it was supposed to be shelter.
The workers pushed off, eager to get back to their homes, as
dismal as they might be. At least in their homes, they were free
to be themselves.
Sylvia Mizone was among the hoard of individuals making it home
to an apartment as worn down and broken as themselves. She
clutched a brown briefcase, fraying at the edges and rubbed raw
at the corners, yet still intact. She wore black flats and a
simple black pencil skirt coupled with a plain white T-shirt
that she had tossed on under a suit jacket, to at least appear
professional.
Her eyes darted from side to side, as if trying to spot
something in the dark shadows. Her right hand was wrapped
tightly around her suitcase while the left one was stuffed deep
into her jacket pocket and bunched around her keys. Sylvia knew
that the neighborhood she lived in was not the best but it was
hardly her choice; she hadn't been able to afford anywhere else
that was close to both the college and her workplace.
Compromises had been made, as they had always been when it came
to her life.
She finally turned to an old brick building, only a few stories
high with dripping air conditions whirling at all hours of the
day and creaking stairs and lights that always seemed to be on
and buzzing. She unlocked the old red door with peeling paint to
get into the complex before ascending the steps and heading to
her apartment on the third floor, unlocking the door and
shutting it quickly, sighing as she kicked off her shoes and
headed for the crammed dining area in the corner.
The apartment was crowded despite the sparseness of the
furniture. There wasn't even a television in the room; only a
couch flanked by two armchairs facing a dented coffee table
overflowing with papers and books and pens. Books lined the
floor and papers were showered over them.
Sylvia made it to the cramped dining area, a pathetic pair of
plastic chairs facing one another over a round wooden table
salvaged from some garage sale with the microwave, refrigerator,
and oven only an arm's length away.
Sylvia dropped her briefcase onto the rounded table and quickly
opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of leftovers and
smelling them carefully before shrugging and heating them up.
As she waited, she pulled out a cracked phone and sent off a
text to her younger sister.
[i]Are you going to eat there?
#Post#: 14741--------------------------------------------------
Re: Of Gods and Hunters
By: FloatingInSpace Date: December 25, 2015, 10:24 pm
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Elsewhere, a pair of dark figures were huddled against a wall,
their breaths measured and steady, despite the fact that they
both clutched weapons. Both were dressed in dark costumes though
one was significantly taller than the other, even though they
were hunched over. The figures appeared to be watching something
in the darkness.
The alley they stood in hid them from view from the rest of the
street and the flickering streetlamp that faced them. Their
faces were covered by wool ski masks and it was hard to discern
anything from the pair, including gender. Both were
broad-shouldered and appeared built to withstand attacks and
were flat-chested, though one had what appeared to be a ponytail
stuffed into the back of their shirt.
Suddenly, something moved in the streetlamp. A figure, dark and
hunched over with elongated nails dodged by, its feet slapping
against the pavement. The two figures moved, the taller one
darting from their hiding place and pursuing the runner directly
while the other turned to the fire escape that they had managed
to find, scaling it with astonishing grace as they stowed the
gun temporarily behind their back, making it to the roof with
alarming speed.
The two figures on the pavement seemed to pass by without the
other pedestrians noticing, which was probably for the better.
The hunched figure had elongated toenails as well and thin limbs
that hurried it down the street, almost the image of some kind
of starved individual.
The darkly dressed figure was quickly gaining however, and the
hunched figure seemed to sense this, quickly diving away from
the street and into a much thinner alleyway, where it was harder
to spot it.
"Hunter," the hunched figure hissed. "Come to kill?"
The other said nothing but raised their weapon as the other
creature poised itself to lunge. After a heartbeat, there was a
gunshot from above and the hunched figure slumped to the ground.
There was brief shouting as people glanced around, alarmed and
the figure in the alleyway glanced up in an almost certainty
irritated expression as the other descended from the roof.
"You were waiting around too long," the one from the roof said,
the voice feminine.
"Yes, because we needed to get them secluded away," the other
said, the voice distinctly masculine. "Come on, help me move the
body before people start investigating."
With a groan, the other figure grabbed the ankles and helped the
other drag the body past the people rushing by, blending into
the walls. They made their way to a local cemetery and quietly
placed the body underneath a great oak tree, where the taller
figure pulled out a thin, silver sword and traced something onto
the figures chest. The body shuddered before starting to fall
apart and then dissolve away in the air.
"There," the shorter one declared. "Job done."
"Almost not, Juliet," the other responded, turning to look at
the other.
Juliet yanked off her ski mask and blinked at him with round
violet eyes, peculiar as always. "Come on," she complained.
"That little bar scene was nothing."
"It was enough to attract attention," the other replied, yanking
off his own mask. His skin was dark and his eyes were a shocking
green against his skin color.
The paler girl folded her arms over her chest and frowned. "But
we got the information, didn't we?"
To avoid more scolding, she took out her phone, which only
garnered her a glare from the other teen.
"My sister wants to know if I'm eating here or not," Juliet
said, turning to the man. "So, Jacob, will you be the ever
lovely gentleman and shell out cash?"
Jacob rolled his eyes.
"You're the best!"
"And you're the worst," he replied, though his lip twitched in a
smile.
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