08-01-2015, 10:08 PM
The girl eyed the one-armed warrior to check the status of his injury. It hadn't healed completely and suspicion rose in her eye as her passive glance swept over him. Isaac's face was weathered and wilted, his skin wilted from the arid dust that coated the dry air, while his cheeks poked out from his gauntly gray skin. As he crept along to the bathroom, following the close of the door a waterfall from the squeaked-on faucet, her gaze followed the messy mound of sheets and covers that were tainted with few dried stains of blood. Her eyes flashed to her kneecaps before her hands continued to play with the gun in her grasp. The cold-steel grip was nice compared to the sweltering heat. Some time had passed, plenty to rest, but Isaac was no prime and he certainly was not as young as he used to be. Still.. There was something curious about him, the same thing that had made her stay and keep watch over him, rather than ditch out on him in his slumber.
Tired eyes had fallen on her as the man spoke his mind and his heavy boots clunked closer. The whites of his bloodshot eyes flashed in the dim light, darkening his gaze. Christa had closed the shutters to block out the heat, and to conceal their location from anyone in the town whose stray glance happened to see a well-known and wanted criminal through the window. Lighting the room, almost ominously, was dull flicker of an orange flame. Little light seeped through the cracks of the door, and even less noise wove through the walls. Christa had been as motionless as a marble statue during his slumber, she hadn't readjusted her posture or even scratched an itch.
Isaac mused his thoughts to her, eyes drifting to the wall composed of every lead she had ever recorded. She smirked at his interest, sadistically keen on emphasizing her own priorities and acutely scoffing at his own. Boldly the girl interrogated the man, "Oh? And why is it you want to meet him?" Christa didn't exactly want walking dead-meat accompanying her on her life's mission.
Aggressively and subtly, she challenged the man's drive. It seemed Isaac picked up on this, for his answer was clear. "I'm tired Christa, tired of the Omniverse. Tired of fighting, tired of everything. I just want to set things right and not have to fight anymore."
"You may die, or worse."
His stern gaze held her, she saw the fire reflect in his pale blue eyes with an unmistakable determination to end the war he had lived so long.
"Understood." She said in a low tone to the veteran, as a curt, satisfied smile was weaved onto her lips. "But don't hold me back. Your injury has had enough time to heal, we have been here a while and another day of travel should rest it just enough. I-"
Her eyelids livened with shock and her stance rose to meet an untold challenge as her attention darted swiftly on the door. The soundless echo of a creaky floorboard could not be heard by someone with human ears. Isaac responded to her unannounced action with an expression of halved curiosity as Christa's gaze slinked back to meet his with a narrowed threat. It read, You move, you die.
Her gun raised from her hip and instead of angling her sights towoard the door, the girl shot three rounds out of the closest boarded-up window. Round holes burst through shattered wood and pinpricks of dusk light streamed in.
THWUMP!
A choked groan could be heard just before the soft crash of a dense body fell a distance to the ground. Next the girl's movements flowed to the doorway, and instead of opening it with her hand, suddenly the sole of her foot stomped on the plank of the freshly off-hinged wood and one bullet landed in head of the unexperienced man. Whoever it was had gravely underestimated her, until she realized as the weakling grew limp in her hands. "Damien? Shit." Christa cursed from the hallway as still-wounded Isaac grew near and the girl seemed to recognize the dead man she held up against the wall.
Her teeth clenched and it seemed her 'Kill first, ask questions later' mentality had blown up in her face, at least until she turned to the slightly hobbling Isaac and shoved the corpse that 'Damien' had used as bait, to the ground. He had sent in the weaklings to confirm they were there. It was so typical. "Looks like he's on my trail. We have to burn it. Burn everything."
Surely Christa couldn't mean the map that looked like it had weeks if not months of accumulated data on it. Isaac seemed surprised, before he could respond the girl intercepted his expression with the subtle shake of her head. "No, not the map." There was a twinkle in her eye. "It's removable. But he doesn't know that."
The malleable paper rolled as a scroll in her hands before she stowed it away in her army-green weapons bag and tossed it over her shoulder. Also stashed in the bag was a med-kit, and a few days worth of food. With a mourning expression, "Such a waste," she held up a bottle of booze and drizzled the amber whiskey along the wood of the walls before shattering the bottle into the ground with one last splash of glass. Her expression seemed weighed down with unwept tears, as though someone close to her had died in a devastating sacrifice. Meanwhile the strong scent of alcohol reeked in the air and she growled to him, "What are you waiting for? Get going, the jeep is out front."
He followed her advice, but not without a fraction of a second's thought. Christa didn't seem like the martyr type, so she must've had a plan. The keys were thrown with a jingle into his hand, yet Isaac was still obligated to ask, "And you?"
She smirked, "I'll be taking the more scenic route." Footsteps tromped the hallway as Isaac found his way down the back staircase and out a vacant entrance. It seemed all the bloodied action had been proved correct by Christa's assumption. She had intercepted the enemy along her path, and this was confirmed by the still-blasting bullets with an erupting sound that cascaded into his ears as it passed through the hollow walls.
The engine revved at the the gentle press of his fingertips and he was latched onto the gray vehicle that lacked a roof. In fact, it wasn't originally a convertible, he observed that the shredded metal had been literally ripped off by some sort of three-clawed beast. The paint scratches aside and she ran great. A few problems arose as he noticed it would be difficult to defend himself and drive at the same time. A thorough sweep to the area confirmed no one was around and the rubber tires squealed as they turned up clouds of dust that filled the empty streets.
Already he could smell the smoke from the fire. But the building's warm flame lit the night. He hoped the hotel had insurance, because surely it would burn to the ground after Christa was done with it. A grenade sounded and the entirety of the building's walls shook as the fireplace crashed too close to the roofless car. A brick dented the hood to remind him his luck wouldn't allow him to so easily skate through it all. Another grenade followed by the ground-quaking shockwave and suddenly Isaac was prompted to hit the gas. Ten-feet away, and twenty-feet high was the bold girl, as she erupted through a scorched, charcoal-kissed wall and Isaac had barely made it in time before she rolled from air and landed in the fast-moving seat with near perfect aim. The back seat had a few military-rationed sized barrels of water, and while Christa had a bruised rib from the impact, she seemed to be enjoying the thrill as she tossed away the added weight of her duffle and freed her hands.
"Nice catch." Cha-Chick! She refilled her next magazine before Isaac clutched the throttle and they headed off once more.
"To Tangled." She muttered directions and Isaac easily coasted north. Saccharine plumes of dust covered their tracks, but if either of them thought a few mounds of dune would stop their assailant, they were wrong.
With the town fading on the horizon, the hum of another car soon approached and breached the mounds of sand as though it were the a crest of wave. "He's coming, the bastard." Suddenly water trickled in a puddle at Isaac's feet. "Lucky for you, long range is my specialty. Unfortunately for us, he knows it."
A wistfully cast glance affirmed the marksman's words as the pursuing car was intentionally staying just out of reach of her scope and riding with the cover of the ebbing mountains; they even used their own spewing dirt as an effective cloak. Christa tossed out a few grenades and Isaac kept on the steering wheel, the best a one-armed bullet-holed bandit could. The erratic movements occasionally jostled her aim as rounds were fired one after the next, throbbing in both of their ears shrieked with the few varied grenades exploding back at the enemy to keep them from growing any closer.
Eventually, after five minutes of constant rounds and the only-slightly reassuring cover of night, Christa propped herself up against the backseat with her rifle carefully perched in hand. As if reading his mind, she spoke to answer Isaac's unasked question, his wound still throbbed but his tightly wrapped bandage kept it from tearing open with the rapid and straining movement it would take to shift the wheel.
"So, as you can tell, Damien is a friend of mine. And we go way back." She joked with an unamused tone. The crescent moon lit their path on the shimmering waves of sand and occasionally she checked her compass. It wouldn't be long until they reached the gate, but the real question that remained was whether or not they would make it before Damien's bounty-hunting legion of men caught up with them.
The soft skittering of their slowly-draining gas tank left a dribbled trail behind them, masked beneath their noses by the tossed up sand that kicked behind the swirl of their treading wheels.
Tired eyes had fallen on her as the man spoke his mind and his heavy boots clunked closer. The whites of his bloodshot eyes flashed in the dim light, darkening his gaze. Christa had closed the shutters to block out the heat, and to conceal their location from anyone in the town whose stray glance happened to see a well-known and wanted criminal through the window. Lighting the room, almost ominously, was dull flicker of an orange flame. Little light seeped through the cracks of the door, and even less noise wove through the walls. Christa had been as motionless as a marble statue during his slumber, she hadn't readjusted her posture or even scratched an itch.
Isaac mused his thoughts to her, eyes drifting to the wall composed of every lead she had ever recorded. She smirked at his interest, sadistically keen on emphasizing her own priorities and acutely scoffing at his own. Boldly the girl interrogated the man, "Oh? And why is it you want to meet him?" Christa didn't exactly want walking dead-meat accompanying her on her life's mission.
Aggressively and subtly, she challenged the man's drive. It seemed Isaac picked up on this, for his answer was clear. "I'm tired Christa, tired of the Omniverse. Tired of fighting, tired of everything. I just want to set things right and not have to fight anymore."
"You may die, or worse."
His stern gaze held her, she saw the fire reflect in his pale blue eyes with an unmistakable determination to end the war he had lived so long.
"Understood." She said in a low tone to the veteran, as a curt, satisfied smile was weaved onto her lips. "But don't hold me back. Your injury has had enough time to heal, we have been here a while and another day of travel should rest it just enough. I-"
Her eyelids livened with shock and her stance rose to meet an untold challenge as her attention darted swiftly on the door. The soundless echo of a creaky floorboard could not be heard by someone with human ears. Isaac responded to her unannounced action with an expression of halved curiosity as Christa's gaze slinked back to meet his with a narrowed threat. It read, You move, you die.
Her gun raised from her hip and instead of angling her sights towoard the door, the girl shot three rounds out of the closest boarded-up window. Round holes burst through shattered wood and pinpricks of dusk light streamed in.
THWUMP!
A choked groan could be heard just before the soft crash of a dense body fell a distance to the ground. Next the girl's movements flowed to the doorway, and instead of opening it with her hand, suddenly the sole of her foot stomped on the plank of the freshly off-hinged wood and one bullet landed in head of the unexperienced man. Whoever it was had gravely underestimated her, until she realized as the weakling grew limp in her hands. "Damien? Shit." Christa cursed from the hallway as still-wounded Isaac grew near and the girl seemed to recognize the dead man she held up against the wall.
Her teeth clenched and it seemed her 'Kill first, ask questions later' mentality had blown up in her face, at least until she turned to the slightly hobbling Isaac and shoved the corpse that 'Damien' had used as bait, to the ground. He had sent in the weaklings to confirm they were there. It was so typical. "Looks like he's on my trail. We have to burn it. Burn everything."
Surely Christa couldn't mean the map that looked like it had weeks if not months of accumulated data on it. Isaac seemed surprised, before he could respond the girl intercepted his expression with the subtle shake of her head. "No, not the map." There was a twinkle in her eye. "It's removable. But he doesn't know that."
The malleable paper rolled as a scroll in her hands before she stowed it away in her army-green weapons bag and tossed it over her shoulder. Also stashed in the bag was a med-kit, and a few days worth of food. With a mourning expression, "Such a waste," she held up a bottle of booze and drizzled the amber whiskey along the wood of the walls before shattering the bottle into the ground with one last splash of glass. Her expression seemed weighed down with unwept tears, as though someone close to her had died in a devastating sacrifice. Meanwhile the strong scent of alcohol reeked in the air and she growled to him, "What are you waiting for? Get going, the jeep is out front."
He followed her advice, but not without a fraction of a second's thought. Christa didn't seem like the martyr type, so she must've had a plan. The keys were thrown with a jingle into his hand, yet Isaac was still obligated to ask, "And you?"
She smirked, "I'll be taking the more scenic route." Footsteps tromped the hallway as Isaac found his way down the back staircase and out a vacant entrance. It seemed all the bloodied action had been proved correct by Christa's assumption. She had intercepted the enemy along her path, and this was confirmed by the still-blasting bullets with an erupting sound that cascaded into his ears as it passed through the hollow walls.
The engine revved at the the gentle press of his fingertips and he was latched onto the gray vehicle that lacked a roof. In fact, it wasn't originally a convertible, he observed that the shredded metal had been literally ripped off by some sort of three-clawed beast. The paint scratches aside and she ran great. A few problems arose as he noticed it would be difficult to defend himself and drive at the same time. A thorough sweep to the area confirmed no one was around and the rubber tires squealed as they turned up clouds of dust that filled the empty streets.
Already he could smell the smoke from the fire. But the building's warm flame lit the night. He hoped the hotel had insurance, because surely it would burn to the ground after Christa was done with it. A grenade sounded and the entirety of the building's walls shook as the fireplace crashed too close to the roofless car. A brick dented the hood to remind him his luck wouldn't allow him to so easily skate through it all. Another grenade followed by the ground-quaking shockwave and suddenly Isaac was prompted to hit the gas. Ten-feet away, and twenty-feet high was the bold girl, as she erupted through a scorched, charcoal-kissed wall and Isaac had barely made it in time before she rolled from air and landed in the fast-moving seat with near perfect aim. The back seat had a few military-rationed sized barrels of water, and while Christa had a bruised rib from the impact, she seemed to be enjoying the thrill as she tossed away the added weight of her duffle and freed her hands.
"Nice catch." Cha-Chick! She refilled her next magazine before Isaac clutched the throttle and they headed off once more.
"To Tangled." She muttered directions and Isaac easily coasted north. Saccharine plumes of dust covered their tracks, but if either of them thought a few mounds of dune would stop their assailant, they were wrong.
With the town fading on the horizon, the hum of another car soon approached and breached the mounds of sand as though it were the a crest of wave. "He's coming, the bastard." Suddenly water trickled in a puddle at Isaac's feet. "Lucky for you, long range is my specialty. Unfortunately for us, he knows it."
A wistfully cast glance affirmed the marksman's words as the pursuing car was intentionally staying just out of reach of her scope and riding with the cover of the ebbing mountains; they even used their own spewing dirt as an effective cloak. Christa tossed out a few grenades and Isaac kept on the steering wheel, the best a one-armed bullet-holed bandit could. The erratic movements occasionally jostled her aim as rounds were fired one after the next, throbbing in both of their ears shrieked with the few varied grenades exploding back at the enemy to keep them from growing any closer.
Eventually, after five minutes of constant rounds and the only-slightly reassuring cover of night, Christa propped herself up against the backseat with her rifle carefully perched in hand. As if reading his mind, she spoke to answer Isaac's unasked question, his wound still throbbed but his tightly wrapped bandage kept it from tearing open with the rapid and straining movement it would take to shift the wheel.
"So, as you can tell, Damien is a friend of mine. And we go way back." She joked with an unamused tone. The crescent moon lit their path on the shimmering waves of sand and occasionally she checked her compass. It wouldn't be long until they reached the gate, but the real question that remained was whether or not they would make it before Damien's bounty-hunting legion of men caught up with them.
The soft skittering of their slowly-draining gas tank left a dribbled trail behind them, masked beneath their noses by the tossed up sand that kicked behind the swirl of their treading wheels.
![[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