07-04-2015, 02:19 PM
Spinning, spinning, spinning darkness. Riveting reality dizzied in his mind as the ringing in his ears demanded a familiar throbbing in his head. His hands met the back of his head while thick blood trickled down his forehead and dribbled from his eyebrow. The smear-stained face of Kindal, the smarmy Coruscantian bastard, as he slowly awoke and found himself suspended in the hovercraft, held by the dense ribbons of gravity technology, that worked as an extra airbag. It was too bad that the driver did not share the same post-concussion fate.
As Kindal's brown eyes turned to the man, they widened out of shock and slight fear of the inevitable. His eventual inevitable.
Kindal saw it. The horror shot through him like venom. Death, such an abstract concept, suddenly became so fathomable. Glass shards layered the man's face that dribbled with still-warm blood onto his cheap commoner clothes. Kindal's suit was ruined, splattered with the same drying scarlet as the white collar of his suit became crimson. His head wound made him forget, his memories became fleeting as he grasped his current situation. The sound of a stream filled his ears. It brought his flinging thoughts into a still quell.
What was that smell? Gasoline?
SHIT.
He hastened to disengage anything that would release him from his suspension in the air. The anti-gravity lock was soon to mean his death. He reached from his place on the screen, the small cabin wasn't much to bounce off of, however the windows of the cars had been crumpled, and the doors were nothing but mangled pulp. Too narrow was the space even for the slim man to slip through, even if he somehow managed to get free.
His arm strained to do anything but reach for the button-less screen. It was intact, somehow if he managed to click the brightly lit button that would deactivate the lock, he would have a chance at escape. As if the sound of running gasoline in his ears wasn't enough, he suddenly heard the ebbing bursts of blaster fire.
They're coming.
Shrill fear gripped his stomach as his ligaments burned, the flesh of his shoulder grated against air, and his throbbing head rained blood onto the cabin floor.
Kindal saw the flash, his life, suddenly, it became so vacant, empty, he had used people to get what he wanted, yet it had never made him happy, and it would never make him free. Stains filled the ground as his reddened face tensed and grimaced with effort.
It's not over.
He convinced himself as the dissatisfying taste in his mouth became his last motivator. Bread and circus, it was no way to live a life. The smolder of fire soon began to heat the internal chamber of the car. Kindal would soon either be slow-cooked and burnt to a crisp or explode with the igniting tank of gas.
A hallucination interrupted his reach. With a start he jumped as he saw the auburn-haired man's face, and felt the memory of the colliding crash of the man's fist with his cheek. It delivered no pain yet it was the only real thing Kindal had experienced in a long time. Gildarts. Yes, that had been the the Prime's name. What was it the man had said? "You'll get what is coming to you, if you don't first change your ways."
Kindal had thought it was a bluff, but now, he remarked at the man's wisdom and again the force of the blow that had been landed on his cheek.
His fingertips caressed a surface both smooth and flat, Kindal's hand had reached the glass and before he could brace himself, his entire body smashed into the ground. His ribs shook as they tried for air.
In a violent scramble, he was able to crawl over the driver's body and into freedom. Into his forearms dug small glass daggers, as his expensive shoe soles reached the ground, his heels dug into the tar and he put as much distance between the flaming car as possible.
His sore feet carried him to a scene he did not expect. Kindal hadn't escaped, he realized, as he was delivered to another blaze of battle. Jak accompanied by Daxter and Torn. The Prime, he recognized from Dante's Abyss were battling some storm troopers. We're his eyes tricking him? So close was Kindal to insanity that he rubbed his eyes incessantly and expected the image change, with no avail. The white-clad soldiers began to fall one-by-one and something like an explosion shook the grounds between them, and they were able to escape. They appeared to have vanished in the direction that lead to the Endless Dunes.
The explosion capsized the entire city block and sent dusty rocks into his perfectly gelled brown and crimson-stained hair. The suited man fell into the ground and covered his wounded head, smudging his hair into a sideways vertical angle.
His body groaned from the ferocious impact, weight that pounded against hard cement with the fall. Rubble clattered overhead and accumulated with gray dust on his back. A frozen yet everlasting moment passed until the sound of crashing walls became no more.
A disoriented and suited man rose from the remains of the city-block. Kindal's flashy tux had become white with powered ash. His scratched and skin-torn hands ruffled the fabric, yet, it seemed his resurrection from death had brought him back with a new color. His flashy smile turned into a scoff, "Tch."
His stride carried him and his weak knees past a few storm troopers, that crowded the scene as they looked for survivors while they were armed and aimed their brandished laser rifles to the hidden chucks of dull rubble. Somehow, Kindal was able to stride right past them, city-slicker or maybe the cams of their helmets didn't pick him up as anything more than another rock to peruse past.
Kindal's foot crushed the gravel beneath him, yet, in a single fleeting second, a flash of blue spark zapped into the Stormtrooper's helmet. The businessman's eyes fell on the trooper, who began to clutch his helmet and fall. Kindal's heart began to beat faster. A sense of danger stirred in his bones. RUN.
The man ran as far from the debris as possible and the sound of his clacking leather shoes filled the empty and death-filled streets.
The video feed the soldier received became static.
"Hey, man, you seeing this?" The trooper with an electric blue hue on his helmet asked his companion.
"What's that Smith? Seeing what? This massive crater we are gonna have to clean up? Damn Primes. What are we, their maid service?"
"No man, I'm blind, my feed is hella scrambled. Maybe it's interference?"
"What?" He chuckled, "Great excuse, but if you think I'll be cleaning up this mess without you, you're dead wrong."
"Seriously, I can't see a thing."
"Oh, well, uh, take off your helmet, there shouldn't be too much dust left to inhale." The spoils of destruction had settled.
"Yeah, you're right." The stormtrooper admitted reluctantly as his black gloves released the grip from his blaster and clutched the sides of his helmet.
A paralyzing pain shot through the soldier's spine before the crippled man fell to his white knees. Agony crushed against his scull and the deafening static filled the speakers of his helmet.
"Matt, MATT! What- What is it?" The trooper's friend shook the man's shoulder.
But nothing was getting past the blasting white sound from his speakers. The same sound soon became drowned out by the trooper's lasting scream.
Crippled and clutching the skull of his helmet was the man who had sunken to the ground, able to fathom only the pain of his torn and razed body. Stormtrooper Smith's only release became the distant sound of the cry of his voice.
"AHHHHH!"
As Kindal's brown eyes turned to the man, they widened out of shock and slight fear of the inevitable. His eventual inevitable.
Kindal saw it. The horror shot through him like venom. Death, such an abstract concept, suddenly became so fathomable. Glass shards layered the man's face that dribbled with still-warm blood onto his cheap commoner clothes. Kindal's suit was ruined, splattered with the same drying scarlet as the white collar of his suit became crimson. His head wound made him forget, his memories became fleeting as he grasped his current situation. The sound of a stream filled his ears. It brought his flinging thoughts into a still quell.
What was that smell? Gasoline?
SHIT.
He hastened to disengage anything that would release him from his suspension in the air. The anti-gravity lock was soon to mean his death. He reached from his place on the screen, the small cabin wasn't much to bounce off of, however the windows of the cars had been crumpled, and the doors were nothing but mangled pulp. Too narrow was the space even for the slim man to slip through, even if he somehow managed to get free.
His arm strained to do anything but reach for the button-less screen. It was intact, somehow if he managed to click the brightly lit button that would deactivate the lock, he would have a chance at escape. As if the sound of running gasoline in his ears wasn't enough, he suddenly heard the ebbing bursts of blaster fire.
They're coming.
Shrill fear gripped his stomach as his ligaments burned, the flesh of his shoulder grated against air, and his throbbing head rained blood onto the cabin floor.
Kindal saw the flash, his life, suddenly, it became so vacant, empty, he had used people to get what he wanted, yet it had never made him happy, and it would never make him free. Stains filled the ground as his reddened face tensed and grimaced with effort.
It's not over.
He convinced himself as the dissatisfying taste in his mouth became his last motivator. Bread and circus, it was no way to live a life. The smolder of fire soon began to heat the internal chamber of the car. Kindal would soon either be slow-cooked and burnt to a crisp or explode with the igniting tank of gas.
A hallucination interrupted his reach. With a start he jumped as he saw the auburn-haired man's face, and felt the memory of the colliding crash of the man's fist with his cheek. It delivered no pain yet it was the only real thing Kindal had experienced in a long time. Gildarts. Yes, that had been the the Prime's name. What was it the man had said? "You'll get what is coming to you, if you don't first change your ways."
Kindal had thought it was a bluff, but now, he remarked at the man's wisdom and again the force of the blow that had been landed on his cheek.
His fingertips caressed a surface both smooth and flat, Kindal's hand had reached the glass and before he could brace himself, his entire body smashed into the ground. His ribs shook as they tried for air.
In a violent scramble, he was able to crawl over the driver's body and into freedom. Into his forearms dug small glass daggers, as his expensive shoe soles reached the ground, his heels dug into the tar and he put as much distance between the flaming car as possible.
His sore feet carried him to a scene he did not expect. Kindal hadn't escaped, he realized, as he was delivered to another blaze of battle. Jak accompanied by Daxter and Torn. The Prime, he recognized from Dante's Abyss were battling some storm troopers. We're his eyes tricking him? So close was Kindal to insanity that he rubbed his eyes incessantly and expected the image change, with no avail. The white-clad soldiers began to fall one-by-one and something like an explosion shook the grounds between them, and they were able to escape. They appeared to have vanished in the direction that lead to the Endless Dunes.
The explosion capsized the entire city block and sent dusty rocks into his perfectly gelled brown and crimson-stained hair. The suited man fell into the ground and covered his wounded head, smudging his hair into a sideways vertical angle.
His body groaned from the ferocious impact, weight that pounded against hard cement with the fall. Rubble clattered overhead and accumulated with gray dust on his back. A frozen yet everlasting moment passed until the sound of crashing walls became no more.
A disoriented and suited man rose from the remains of the city-block. Kindal's flashy tux had become white with powered ash. His scratched and skin-torn hands ruffled the fabric, yet, it seemed his resurrection from death had brought him back with a new color. His flashy smile turned into a scoff, "Tch."
His stride carried him and his weak knees past a few storm troopers, that crowded the scene as they looked for survivors while they were armed and aimed their brandished laser rifles to the hidden chucks of dull rubble. Somehow, Kindal was able to stride right past them, city-slicker or maybe the cams of their helmets didn't pick him up as anything more than another rock to peruse past.
Kindal's foot crushed the gravel beneath him, yet, in a single fleeting second, a flash of blue spark zapped into the Stormtrooper's helmet. The businessman's eyes fell on the trooper, who began to clutch his helmet and fall. Kindal's heart began to beat faster. A sense of danger stirred in his bones. RUN.
The man ran as far from the debris as possible and the sound of his clacking leather shoes filled the empty and death-filled streets.
The video feed the soldier received became static.
"Hey, man, you seeing this?" The trooper with an electric blue hue on his helmet asked his companion.
"What's that Smith? Seeing what? This massive crater we are gonna have to clean up? Damn Primes. What are we, their maid service?"
"No man, I'm blind, my feed is hella scrambled. Maybe it's interference?"
"What?" He chuckled, "Great excuse, but if you think I'll be cleaning up this mess without you, you're dead wrong."
"Seriously, I can't see a thing."
"Oh, well, uh, take off your helmet, there shouldn't be too much dust left to inhale." The spoils of destruction had settled.
"Yeah, you're right." The stormtrooper admitted reluctantly as his black gloves released the grip from his blaster and clutched the sides of his helmet.
A paralyzing pain shot through the soldier's spine before the crippled man fell to his white knees. Agony crushed against his scull and the deafening static filled the speakers of his helmet.
"Matt, MATT! What- What is it?" The trooper's friend shook the man's shoulder.
But nothing was getting past the blasting white sound from his speakers. The same sound soon became drowned out by the trooper's lasting scream.
Crippled and clutching the skull of his helmet was the man who had sunken to the ground, able to fathom only the pain of his torn and razed body. Stormtrooper Smith's only release became the distant sound of the cry of his voice.
"AHHHHH!"
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus