Post by FireAngel on Jun 18, 2007 9:38:17 GMT -5
”Come on, come on! Start, come on!”
The rain pounded on the roof of the car, an incessant drumming sound that was occasionally punctuated by loud peals of thunder reverberating over the sky, slanting down in the fluorescent streetlights and making the black road glossy and slick. A brilliant flash of lightning bleached the world white, illuminating the darkness and driving back the shadows on the street the nose of the Camero was pointed towards.
Lilac eyes were bleached white in the reflection of the rear-view mirror as the key was turned almost frantically in the ignition again, darting left to right along the alleyway until they reached the door at the very end set in the wall of the graffiti-decorated brick building. The heavy iron door was still slammed shut from where she had beat a hasty, gun-fire filled retreat from the Wok Dumpling restaurant, but that did nothing to calm the wild race of her heart or the fire running through her veins. The Camero sputtered, struggling to catch to life as the lightning died and the alley behind her was plunged into darkness again.
”Come on, come on, start you Mickey Mouse piece of shit COME ON!”
As if screaming at the dimly lit gauges was not enough help, she beat the top of the steering wheel with her fist and tried the ignition again, her foot pressing on the gas as if willing the thing to life and knowing in the back of her mind that she was flooding the engine. Another flash of lightning illuminated the alley and street, huge buildings forming thick walls towering over the old car and its occupant. Her eyes flashed to the rear-view mirror again in that blinding white light and the iron door leading from the Wok Dumpling burst open, nearly wrenched from its hinges by a huge, muscular figure in a dark navy blue uniform that looked black when all color was washed under the crack of lightning playing over the sky.
The sound of the engine trying to start had to have drawn his attention, or maybe it was the way the car was blocking the exit to the alley, pointed towards the street, a perfect position for a swift get-away. With more menace than anything else in his features and with rain beginning to plaster short-cropped, dark hair to his head, the angular face of the police officer twisted in a sneer of hatred as he began to run towards the spluttering vehicle, a glint of black in his hand marking the 9 millimeter Glock being reloaded while he ran. Her white eyes grew huge when she saw the palm of his other hand slam into the butt of the gun.
”Shi-YES!”
The engine roared to life finally, the 350 horses under the hood spluttering against the sudden punching of the gas pedal causing the car to rumble and roar like some hellacious beast, her eyes on the figure stopping to level that lethal glint of black at the car as she threw it into gear with her foot buried on the gas. Tires squealed, almost masking the ‘pop pop pop’ of the gun emptying into the back of the screaming car tearing out of the alley without even looking for oncoming traffic. Skidding on the slick, glossy black pavement, the old Camero careened in a wild fishtail as the back windshield shattered in a spray of glass into the backseat by the hailstorm of bullets unleashed on the car, sending her hunching down in the driver’s seat and barely missing the oncoming truck that came barreling for her.
Correcting quickly, she quickly sat up once the alley faded into her rear-view mirror and kicked out the horribly fractured front windshield, holes in the glass where bullets had torn through without stopping and leaving behind a thin, complex spiderweb of fracturing behind, making it almost impossible to see out of. The sheet of glass slid off the hood as she brought the racing, straining car back to a more reasonable 55 mph while easing into the lane that would feed up onto the freeway, the wind and rain whipping through the opened cab and causing the long, gleaming black locks with the pair of white streaks at the front to swirl in a wild nimbus around the pale visage, getting wet and plastering to her icy throat in slender black and silvery white ribbons. A quick glance in her rear-view mirror with eyes slowly fading back to a cool, icy lavender color told her there were no flashing lights in her rear-view mirror, and her heart finally eased its thunderous beat.
She would have to ditch the car and was not bothered by this. The old vehicle was something purchased for exactly this purpose, bought under an alias and slated to be found in the ghettos come morning. Picking up speed, she merged easily onto the deserted highway and let her mind think back on what had just happened. Most people would not have run from an officer, but then again, most people wouldn’t have seen what she did – the iron-tough green skin or the glowing yellow eyes under the mortal exterior. They wouldn’t have seen the drooling mouth with the razor-sharp teeth that could have ripped a bone clean. Most people would have seen the human man the troll pretended to be.
Miles churned under the radials as she squinted against the driving rain lashing at her face, reaching up to rub the moisture from her eyes in the occasional, futile effort, easing along the empty highway until an exit for Saint Royal St. came up and she took it, knowing the regal-sounding name was a misnomer. Slums and tenements lined the street as the car rumbled down the road at a low, throbbing pitch, finding a parking lot that was empty in front of a locked up and barricaded convenience store and pulling into it. With tiny rivers of water running down her neck and causing the stiff leather top to stick to her body, she killed the engine, left the keys in the car and got out.
She only pulled two things from the car – a long, wide, gleaming silver sword that was seized in a comfortable grip and slung into the sheath across her back, and a gleaming black gun that was modified beyond its normal specifications to hold a variety of rounds from hollow-point copper jacket lead bullets to silver nitrate filled 45 caliber rounds, fitting it into the holster low on her hip. Looking around and taking note of the deserted street, she quickly merged into the shadows at the corner of the strip center, her brow lowered in a tiny frown. The cop had seen her, he would recognize her now, and Kyndal had to admit that until he was dead, she would be both hunter, and hunted.
The rain pounded on the roof of the car, an incessant drumming sound that was occasionally punctuated by loud peals of thunder reverberating over the sky, slanting down in the fluorescent streetlights and making the black road glossy and slick. A brilliant flash of lightning bleached the world white, illuminating the darkness and driving back the shadows on the street the nose of the Camero was pointed towards.
Lilac eyes were bleached white in the reflection of the rear-view mirror as the key was turned almost frantically in the ignition again, darting left to right along the alleyway until they reached the door at the very end set in the wall of the graffiti-decorated brick building. The heavy iron door was still slammed shut from where she had beat a hasty, gun-fire filled retreat from the Wok Dumpling restaurant, but that did nothing to calm the wild race of her heart or the fire running through her veins. The Camero sputtered, struggling to catch to life as the lightning died and the alley behind her was plunged into darkness again.
”Come on, come on, start you Mickey Mouse piece of shit COME ON!”
As if screaming at the dimly lit gauges was not enough help, she beat the top of the steering wheel with her fist and tried the ignition again, her foot pressing on the gas as if willing the thing to life and knowing in the back of her mind that she was flooding the engine. Another flash of lightning illuminated the alley and street, huge buildings forming thick walls towering over the old car and its occupant. Her eyes flashed to the rear-view mirror again in that blinding white light and the iron door leading from the Wok Dumpling burst open, nearly wrenched from its hinges by a huge, muscular figure in a dark navy blue uniform that looked black when all color was washed under the crack of lightning playing over the sky.
The sound of the engine trying to start had to have drawn his attention, or maybe it was the way the car was blocking the exit to the alley, pointed towards the street, a perfect position for a swift get-away. With more menace than anything else in his features and with rain beginning to plaster short-cropped, dark hair to his head, the angular face of the police officer twisted in a sneer of hatred as he began to run towards the spluttering vehicle, a glint of black in his hand marking the 9 millimeter Glock being reloaded while he ran. Her white eyes grew huge when she saw the palm of his other hand slam into the butt of the gun.
”Shi-YES!”
The engine roared to life finally, the 350 horses under the hood spluttering against the sudden punching of the gas pedal causing the car to rumble and roar like some hellacious beast, her eyes on the figure stopping to level that lethal glint of black at the car as she threw it into gear with her foot buried on the gas. Tires squealed, almost masking the ‘pop pop pop’ of the gun emptying into the back of the screaming car tearing out of the alley without even looking for oncoming traffic. Skidding on the slick, glossy black pavement, the old Camero careened in a wild fishtail as the back windshield shattered in a spray of glass into the backseat by the hailstorm of bullets unleashed on the car, sending her hunching down in the driver’s seat and barely missing the oncoming truck that came barreling for her.
Correcting quickly, she quickly sat up once the alley faded into her rear-view mirror and kicked out the horribly fractured front windshield, holes in the glass where bullets had torn through without stopping and leaving behind a thin, complex spiderweb of fracturing behind, making it almost impossible to see out of. The sheet of glass slid off the hood as she brought the racing, straining car back to a more reasonable 55 mph while easing into the lane that would feed up onto the freeway, the wind and rain whipping through the opened cab and causing the long, gleaming black locks with the pair of white streaks at the front to swirl in a wild nimbus around the pale visage, getting wet and plastering to her icy throat in slender black and silvery white ribbons. A quick glance in her rear-view mirror with eyes slowly fading back to a cool, icy lavender color told her there were no flashing lights in her rear-view mirror, and her heart finally eased its thunderous beat.
She would have to ditch the car and was not bothered by this. The old vehicle was something purchased for exactly this purpose, bought under an alias and slated to be found in the ghettos come morning. Picking up speed, she merged easily onto the deserted highway and let her mind think back on what had just happened. Most people would not have run from an officer, but then again, most people wouldn’t have seen what she did – the iron-tough green skin or the glowing yellow eyes under the mortal exterior. They wouldn’t have seen the drooling mouth with the razor-sharp teeth that could have ripped a bone clean. Most people would have seen the human man the troll pretended to be.
Miles churned under the radials as she squinted against the driving rain lashing at her face, reaching up to rub the moisture from her eyes in the occasional, futile effort, easing along the empty highway until an exit for Saint Royal St. came up and she took it, knowing the regal-sounding name was a misnomer. Slums and tenements lined the street as the car rumbled down the road at a low, throbbing pitch, finding a parking lot that was empty in front of a locked up and barricaded convenience store and pulling into it. With tiny rivers of water running down her neck and causing the stiff leather top to stick to her body, she killed the engine, left the keys in the car and got out.
She only pulled two things from the car – a long, wide, gleaming silver sword that was seized in a comfortable grip and slung into the sheath across her back, and a gleaming black gun that was modified beyond its normal specifications to hold a variety of rounds from hollow-point copper jacket lead bullets to silver nitrate filled 45 caliber rounds, fitting it into the holster low on her hip. Looking around and taking note of the deserted street, she quickly merged into the shadows at the corner of the strip center, her brow lowered in a tiny frown. The cop had seen her, he would recognize her now, and Kyndal had to admit that until he was dead, she would be both hunter, and hunted.