Reasons? I'll keep it short, since it is 10 o' clock at night, in the middle of winter here.
Internet service had to be reset, new cables set in, and then computer taken away by parents.
Satisfy your curiousities?
Now to commemorate my glorious return (did any of you notice I am even gone?), you get
not one chapter, but two! (I guess I am just invisible)
Yes, yes I have been busy. I finished Lord Vlaedr Part One, and started with Part Two.
(hint: Part Two is better)
Each Part consists of Nine chapters.
Here you go! Feast your eyes, Patrick!
Chapter Six: Boogie Land....
Falling. A dizzying sensation caused by the rapid decreasing of one’s altitude. Also usually induces some sort of screaming. Or howling.
Vlaedr howled as he flew out the window, over the balcony, and down the side of the hotel. The air rushed by his face as he turned so that his face and stomach were pointing down. This is new, his brain registered mildly. His eyes watered, the ferocious wind snatching his wordless cry away. Through the streaming tears, he saw himself falling directly towards a huge, rusted warehouse of sorts.
There was a massive, Crrsk! And Bthank! And Vlaedr knew no more.
Vlaedr registered the sound as he woke up. He opened his eyes, flinching at the pain that it caused.
There it was again. Vlaedr listened for it closely this time. He moved his head to the side to see if it came from there.
He rubbed his bloody neck. It seemed that he was making the terrible groaning. Which means he woke himself up. If I wasn’t so beffuddleedalllldslssss...... Vlaedr thought thuggishly, I would be proud of myssssellffllsls......
He tried to sit up, noticing massive shards of wood and planking everywhere. On his legs, in his legs, trapping his arm, impaling his other arm, through his chest.....
He grunted, pulling a sword-like chunk from his chest. The blood flowed down his leather-chest, thing-a-bobber. He tried once again to sit up, coughing blood as he noticed with some interest that his ribs were broken. He succeeded with great persistence, and got shakily into a crouch.
He looked up, the roof way up high. A giant, jagged hole stood off to the side of his position. Then he noticed the boxes. Crates and crates, made of wood, filled the warehouse to the top. A line of broken crates slanted down from the jagged hole.
That’s where I must have made my entry. And then my nice soft descent, Vlaedr thought, grimacing.
White dust was everywhere, floating in the air, through the weak light that Vlaedr’s new sky light provided. His chest, hair, and blood were covered in the stuff. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then he coughed, as a pleasing fire spread through his body. I am in crack, he realized. It has the same consistency and odour as the drugs the doctor knocked me out with. I am swimming in crack.
He slowly rose, yanking out chunks of wood out of his arms and legs as he went. He had decided not to make a sound. Whoever bombed the crap out of our place, clearly meant business. Vlaedr looked around. And I may be new to this, but I know an assassin’s handiwork when I see it.
He limp-crawl-climbed out of his little crater of crates, leaving a nice shiny blood trail. When he got to what appeared to be an aisle, he dropped down in a heap, grateful for the respite. He quickly and silently plucked out the rest of the shards, examining his body for damage. Other than broken ribs, impaled innards, half his face being bruised, and his legs being burned by the explosion, he seemed dandy.
He quickly checked his inventory. Grenades, check. Ka-Bar, check. Pants, badly burned, check. Chest armour with holes, check. Singed cloak, check. Then he remembered. M9? He quickly searched himself. Nothing. He groaned.
I may be genetically altered, but I wouldn’t last in hand-to-claw combat for 5 seconds. I am wounded, bleeding, and burnt, without any ranged weapons. Wonderful. Vlaedr quickly scanned the surroundings for enemies. Well, Skai was right. The handgun didn’t do me any good. Either it dropped away from me in the fall, or it’s back in blood-crater.
Skai! Vlaedr scanned the warehouse roof for any more holes. Even if he did fall with me, he wouldn’t have survived. I don’t think anyone else besides me would have survived. Vlaedr sighed sadly. Either way, he died painlessly. I just don’t know what I am going to tell Vesalda. And I was just starting to like him...
I need to keep moving, he realized. The longer I stay here, the better chance of them discovering I am alive. But I also need to rest to heal.... He started limping away, feeling better than 5 minutes before. He decided to follow the aisle until he hit an exit. With his knife in his left hand, his right holding his ribs, he made his way as quick as he could.
He turned left, right, right again, and as he rounded another corner, he came face to face with a gun-toting security guard. The man widened his eyes, dropped the gun and ran back the way he came. Vlaedr rolled his eyes and threw the Ka-Bar. The man went flying, falling on his face.
Vlaedr limped over to the man, who was now anxiously tugging at the knife in his thigh. He stopped bothering the knife and started crawling away. He let out a cry of fear before a there was silence. Vlaedr gently lowered the unconscious man’s head, and yanked out his weapon.
Then he kept going. Enough innocent’s have died today. Vlaedr thought. Wait, was that sympathy? He wondered angrily, stopping. After a while he kept going. Next time I will finish the job. It is a waste of energy and time, if I let the prey go. I have to keep nature in balance. The survival of the fittest. He nodded, satisfied with his reasoning.
Every now and then he would stop and sniff, letting the Beast side through. He also kept a close ear on any sounds in the warehouse. Mostly, all he heard was the falling of an odd crate every now and then from where he fell. Finally, he got to the side of the warehouse, and spotted a red, rusty door. A strange, rhythmic beat reached his earshot.
Vlaedr cautiously proceeded, limping right up to the door. The sound was coming from behind it. He readied his knife and slowly opened the door, the beat louder now, intermingled with shouting. Coloured patterns of light swirled in his vision, twirling and jumping bodies moving to the sound of the beat. The place smelled of sweat, heat, and alcohol. It was a night club. A night club owned the factory.
He quickly looked behind him and stepped into the club, closing the door behind him. He hid his knife in what was left of his sleeve and let his cloak settle heavily over him, hunching to keep his face out of sight. Then he stepped into the crowd.
Drunken men shouting, intoxicated girls screaming, and the same groovy-beat overwhelmed Vlaedr’s ears. His nostrils were over-powered by smoke, alcoholic-fumes, and the sweat of a hundred young bodies. Besides being wounded and hunted for his life, Vlaedr couldn’t help but find the very large primal side of him, swaying to the beat as he fought his way through the crowd.
When I am not hunted down as prey, one day, I will come back to this place. Vlaedr thought with excitement. Then the Bestial side won again and he moved with greater purpose and strength. His will to survive was kicking in.
He stepped into the darkness of night, lit by the glow of the neon signs, into the street. He memorized the club’s name. Then he turned around, checking his area, before locating the burning top of their hotel, the fires still flickering high. It stood more than a block away.
That was some seriously powerful explosives, Vlaedr thought angrily. Explosives meant to kill me. Explosives that didn’t come cheap.
He scanned up and down the street, closely watching the girls and couples that were laughing and walking by. Well, they just blundered into the Bear’s cave, not knowing what they did. Caught him sleeping. He looked back at the hotel one last time before walking the opposite direction.
Chapter Seven: You Have Leveled Up...
Vlaedr roared, jerking his claws across the soft larynx. The blood splattered against the wall with a soft sigh.
He stood there, panting, gazing about him. Seven bodies lay in the room around him. All of them were mauled or cut to pieces. Vlaedr resisted the siren-call of their warm flesh and retrieved his Ka-Bar in the first soldier he had killed, right next to the door.
They had burst in, M16’s aimed right for his heart, about 10 minutes ago. All dressed in black body armour, and armed to the teeth. None of that had seemed to help. Vlaedr examined a dead body. This equipment is expensive. Only available to highly trained soldiers and mercenaries, Vlaedr thought, musing.
He walked over to what appeared to be the leader. He was the second one Vlaedr killed. Partly because he was the one that had thrown the grenade in Vlaedr’s face and partly because he had the compact, and deadly, CA M870 Sawed-Off Shotgun. And there was no doubt in Vlaedr’s mind that its fire could have blown off his head. Given the chance of course.
He picked up the heavy weapon, stroking it thick, black opaque muzzle. It’s a beauty, Vlaedr thought, cocking it. Then he slipped its holster over his shoulder, and placed it in it. And now it’s my beauty. Looks like Skai got what he wanted.
His smile dropped from his face. Skai. Dead. Already. And they hadn’t even begun this adventure.
Don’t think about Skai now, he thought, grabbing ammunition and leaning out the four-story window. Vengeance. That is all that matters. That, and getting to the Sanctuary.
He frowned and reached into his camo-pants pocket. Out came the wrinkled and torn verification papers. Well it will still work, he thought relieved. Then he checked his watch. One hour to noon. I will get there by two o’ clock.
He made sure that no one was outside in the street, before jumping. He landed in a crouch, spreading his hands to keep balance. He checked both ways for threats, and then he started jogging towards the ocean. The streets were small and narrow, very confusing for a newcomer.
He ran into a side alley, saw that it was blocked and turned around. Three badly dressed men moved to block his way, carrying broken bottles and pipes. They smiled at him in a threatening way. He smiled back.
Then there were three, massive Cracks! and Vlaedr had lunch. He noticed that they weren’t particularly clean. Neither did they smell good. But food was food. And murder was murder.
He wiped his mouth and slipped the ring back on. Then he reloaded his shotgun and slipped into its holster again. He stepped over the mangled bodies, looked to see if anyone was screaming “Vampire!”, and continued on his way.
People stared at his bedraggled appearance, recoiled at the blood splattered on him, and then immediately minded their own business when they noticed his “upgrade”. Vlaedr grinned. I think I just keep levelling up.
After two and a half hours of that, Vlaedr arrived at the Sanctuary in a good mood.
The building stood at the end of a street, in the centre of the cul-de-sac. It was a ramshackle, but large, old hotel. Clearly it had been closed down years ago; it stood close to the water front, surrounded by newer and considerably bigger buildings. From its entrance, Vlaedr could just hear the ocean, and glimpse a bit of sea between two other hotels.
Is it just me, or do all Sanctuaries seem to be built under old and cheap buildings, he wondered, walking into what used to be the lobby. He stood there for a minute of two, wondering what to do.
Then he took out the verification papers and waved them around. “Hello? I think this is the South American Sanctuary..... I have verification papers.... “
He trailed off, standing in the swirling dust that had been disturbed by his entry. Then he sat down against the wall. And so he waited. After twenty minutes, a flustered looking man walked out from behind the check-in counter.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “According to protocol you are supposed to knock on the counter three times, then once, and then three times again.”
Vlaedr stood up and frowned. The man had an Australian accent. “You work at the South American Sanctuary, but you are from Australia? That just seems... racist.”
The man coughed, blushing. “Excuse me! I applied for this job! It is an honour to work in a high tech facility like the South American Sanctuary.” He gestured around him. Then he remembered they were standing in the dusty lobby. “Not this specific place,” he said quickly.
Vlaedr stuffed the papers into the man’s hands and yawned. “Look I am supposed to help here, now either take me to your leader and give me food, or die and be food.”
The man went pale and led the way. Vlaedr followed behind the counter, down some concealed stairs, and into a big waiting room, with the Crunchy-Looking Scythers standing at intervals next to the walls. The man lead Vlaedr to a large, rectangular room with white walls and many tables, muttering something about food and soon, before leaving.
Vlaedr sat down and twirled his ring, mesmerized by the way the light caught its edges. After a few minutes, a strange smell filled the room, followed by a small cough, the sort that people use when they try to get your attention.
Vlaedr dived over the table, whipping out his “upgrade”, and loving the way its weight settled in his hands. He trained it on the figure before him. His smile dropped.
Then he lowered the shotgun slowly. The smell was Vanilla.
A smile spread across the other man’s face.
It was Skai.Whoooooo!!!!!!! Yeaah!!!!!!!!
Sit back and relax as the shell shock goes away. Not really.
Hope you enjoyed.... AND COMMENT!
OMG I HAVE 7 FOLLOWERS! *shoots into air*