You know.... I just..... I feel so betrayed by the internet.....
I can't even speak properly. My trust in it will never grow back. Forever it it shall be considered unreliable.
I hope you are happy internet. Well done.
I was went to some nice shops the other day. All of them had swords, throwing knives/starts, tasers, and walking sticks-swords. Needless to say, I felt compelled to buy something, being a guy and all.
Here is my little wakizashi:
And here are my little throwing knives:
Notice how I already messed up the beautifully wrapped handle. Oh well.
Now, enough gag-lollying.
Chapter...... (Checks which one is next) Chapter Three! Enjoy:
Chapter Three: You got a Friend in me.....
Vlaedr strode out of the building and turned around. The building was grey and drab, and used to be an office. Now it was rust stained at the edges and the windows were fogged over. Oh, and it was the London Sanctuary. But that didn’t matter. Because Vlaedr was hungry. No food had appeared in the Sanctuary. Just more of those crunchy-looking Scythe people.
Vlaedr felt for his M9, securely strapped to his ribs, under his jacket. He made sure his Ka-Bar was also secure on his inner thigh, and loosened it to make a quick draw easy. His grenades were in a plastic bag in his hand. He still hadn’t figured out where to strap them.
As he walked down the side walk, heading towards the Thames, he thought about everything that the Grand Mages or whatever they were called, had said. Basically they wanted him to work for them. But he didn’t want to. He had been mad that no food had been provided.
Vlaedr passed a few coffee shops, side stepping where someone had spilled. They had been quite persistent, but Vlaedr had simply said he had been controlled his whole life, and no more. So they had offered him a free-lance job. Whatever that meant. He had asked politely for food in payment for being a free-lancer. Nothing.
An oncoming cyclist whizzed by Vlaedr, almost hitting him. He growled. They had told him of reports coming from South America, that something dire was happening there. Only vague messages were coming through, but things sounded bad. Bad sorcerers. Evil things. Nothing to do with food.
Vlaedr stopped at the edge of the bridge, looking at the murky water below, called the Thames River. They wanted him to visit the Sanctuary there. If there was one. Help out anyway HE can.... They said they wanted some backup there, in case things got bad. They had given him some papers, called verification papers, and a passport and two tickets. But not food.
Why two tickets? This world is dangerous. Everyone works in partners these days... They had told him. He had pointed out that everyone also had food these days. Glares and dark frowns.
And so, Vlaedr was looking for a partner.... Damn......
Vlaedr crossed the bridge and went to the nearest thing he could call a food shop. Well at least they gave me the names of a few places I could find partners... He thought depressively. Now I don’t have to wander London.... Looking for food....
The house in front of Vlaedr was very much small. The door look like it was cut in half to fit, and there was one window on the second floor. It was painted yellow originally, but now the paint had cracks everywhere so it looked, well, bad. The roof was just a piece of metal that slanted to the left.
Vlaedr stared at the house, and then walked up the stone path that counted as the walkway. He stopped before the door, and knocked softly. Then he knocked harder. Then he banged on the door.
A flustered looking man opened the door, looking at Vlaedr angrily. He opened his mouth to start shouting, and then he noticed Vlaedr’s hands. His eyes widened. Vlaedr quickly stepped inside and closed the door, covering the man’s mouth with the other hand.
Vlaedr spoke quickly, and quietly. “I am Lord Vlaedr, call me Vlaedr. I am not a Vampire, I hate Vampires. I am not here to hurt you, I just want to talk.”
He removed his hands slowly from the man’s mouth.
The man glared at him and spoke angrily. “I know your kind. Dabbling in the dark Magic’s. Well I refuse to talk to you. You are a mutation. I hate you already. Let it never be said that Inferious Crane helped a Dark Mage. Good day to you!”
Vlaedr tried to speak, deny, shout, anything really, but the man threw up his hands and Vlaedr flew out the door way.
The cab slowed to a stop in front of the video store. Vlaedr paid the man and stepped out into the rain. He growled in annoyance and walked to the door.
The door made that annoying sound all video shops have at the front entrance when you open them. Vlaedr growled at the door and shook the rain out of his hair.
A very thin looking man stood at the counter, pierced everywhere you could see. He had a spiky Mohawk, dyed black, and a few tattoos on his neck. Vlaedr marched up to the counter and slammed his claw-fist against the counter. Then he growled for good measure.
“I am looking for Obanex Strife. Are you him or are you not?” He growled again.
“I be Obanex... What do you want, Vampire-Dude?” He said in a slow tone.
“I am not a Vampire! I hate Vampires!” Vlaedr roared.
“Thats cool, thats cool. I am going to have to ask you to leave though... Its closing time and you are scaring the custos, man.”
Vlaedr turned around in a slow turn scanning the store. No one.
“Look here, frog legs! I drove three hours to get here! And we are going to have a nice long chat, you hear me snap-stick?!”
Obanex nodded slowly, closing his eyes in agreement. Then he took out a large revolver and shot Vlaedr in the chest.
Vlaedr just glared at the man.
“No, Beast-Man. I really have to close now. Have a good day and come back soon!” He said cheerfully, starting to pack away his things.
Vlaedr stomped out of the shop, ripping the bell-thingy off the door, and got back in the cab.
“Last stop and then I’m done! Take me to the damn residence of...”
He stopped and looked at his list.
I think that is one of my longer chapters.
Well, let me know what you think or dont think about it.