Post by Jonathan A. Keys on Sept 19, 2007 14:51:22 GMT -5
Explosions. Screaming. Gunshots? Where am I? Where the first four questions that went through his mind. Then he remembered with a striking reality. He was Gregory C. Hall, member of the illegal seal use hunters, or the I.S.U.H. They had been ordered to kill someone who was known as death on the street.
The one called death had pressed his palm to his chest and there was an explosion, hadn’t it killed him? The sounds faded away, and he opened his eyes. He was no longer in the warehouse, he was in some sort of white room. No it wasn’t a room, it was just a space, emty of everything except white.
“Is this the afterlife?”
“No”
“Who are you?”
“The voice of life”
“But im dead”
“Yes but im here to give it back”
“Why”
“So you can fight”
Fight, he thought, he had already fought, he had been defeated and killed. Who was he supposed to kill?, and why him. There was a sudden burning on his hands, and he was sort of shoved back into reality.
He wasn’t in the warehouse anymore, he was on a hill, overlooking a huge dirty city. As he regained himself he noticed things about him, the first thing was that he was in solid white robes. They had the same feeling about them as that white place he had just been in, like it was the fabric of that nothingness.
Closer examination revealed that her was still wearing his gear under them, and that his hands felt weak, even shaky. He held them up to his eyes, they were coated in his blood, but there were no cuts on them.
“What the hell is this?” he asked to no one in particular, not that anyone was there, the hill was completely deserted.
As he wasn’t getting an answer to that anytime soon, he had nothing else to do but go into the city. Might as well not look like a sage, he though as he pulled the robes off to reveal his combat gear. Or a deserter, he thought as he pulled off the military style vest, wiping his hands off on it.
There now I’ll just look like a guy who likes camo and cargo pants. He looked at his hands again, to see if there were any scars. He almost tried to run away from himself when he saw what was on his hands.
“Seals, seals on me?!” he said wildly as he stared at the two blood red marked circles on his hands.
The one called death had pressed his palm to his chest and there was an explosion, hadn’t it killed him? The sounds faded away, and he opened his eyes. He was no longer in the warehouse, he was in some sort of white room. No it wasn’t a room, it was just a space, emty of everything except white.
“Is this the afterlife?”
“No”
“Who are you?”
“The voice of life”
“But im dead”
“Yes but im here to give it back”
“Why”
“So you can fight”
Fight, he thought, he had already fought, he had been defeated and killed. Who was he supposed to kill?, and why him. There was a sudden burning on his hands, and he was sort of shoved back into reality.
He wasn’t in the warehouse anymore, he was on a hill, overlooking a huge dirty city. As he regained himself he noticed things about him, the first thing was that he was in solid white robes. They had the same feeling about them as that white place he had just been in, like it was the fabric of that nothingness.
Closer examination revealed that her was still wearing his gear under them, and that his hands felt weak, even shaky. He held them up to his eyes, they were coated in his blood, but there were no cuts on them.
“What the hell is this?” he asked to no one in particular, not that anyone was there, the hill was completely deserted.
As he wasn’t getting an answer to that anytime soon, he had nothing else to do but go into the city. Might as well not look like a sage, he though as he pulled the robes off to reveal his combat gear. Or a deserter, he thought as he pulled off the military style vest, wiping his hands off on it.
There now I’ll just look like a guy who likes camo and cargo pants. He looked at his hands again, to see if there were any scars. He almost tried to run away from himself when he saw what was on his hands.
“Seals, seals on me?!” he said wildly as he stared at the two blood red marked circles on his hands.