Author's notes: Yes, yes, Street Fighter belongs to Capcom. If you don't realize that, why the hell are you even reading this?
I know I said I wouldn't write anymore, at least for the time being, but I really feel like writing's the only thing in this world that I can do a halfway decent job in. I feel empty without it. This is the only successful piece out of many, many attempts. I really hope I can continue this story, as well.
I also realize that I've been writing Smash Brothers fanfiction for a while now, and so I doubt I'll have my old readers (meaning I probably won't have any readers at all, actually). But if you know me, you realize that Street Fighter is my favorite game series and that I obsess endlessly over it--more specifically, Vega. ^^; So, I expect my tastes to be respected, and if you don't do so, I'll just laugh at you.
I hope I my style hasn't totally gone to hell, so I'd REALLY appreciate at least someone giving me feedback and telling me if I suck or not. It's very important to me right now. But I'll stop babbling and whining and get on with the story.
___ ___ ___
After hours of staring at the ceiling, the floor, and everything in between, I finally accepted that it was hopeless; I wasn't getting to sleep. I turned to the glowing red numbers sitting on the bedside table. Almost 4:30. With a sigh, I rolled my head back to look at the ceiling once more. "I just shouldn't think about it," I mumbled to myself. It was a bad habit I had.
But what I said was true. Naturally, I needed sleep to perform perfectly, and I had a mission at dawn. Then again, that was probably why I was thinking about it to begin with. Usually missions are to be carried out as soon as they're ordered, and distance was no limit to his transportation. That night was the first time I had to wait, giving me time to do nothing but linger on the apprehension of what might happen if I failed. It was usually quick, and faded when the mission was complete.
That apprehension was what drove me to put every bit of concentration into assuring that each and every mission would be carried out with perfection. Perhaps that's what drives every assassin: the determination to satisfy their master--not out of respect, but out of fear.
I broke my stare on the plaster ceiling and turned onto my left side, pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed to cover myself. "Maybe it's better that I don't sleep," I mumbled once again, then lowered to a whisper as I slowly sent my hand down to my sore legs. "I'm afraid of what I might dream."
__ __ __
I only had to hide in the car park for a short while. With experience and skill, I attached to the steep ceiling, avoiding casting shadows or being visible in any way, and being able to gracefully depart at any moment. I heard the footsteps long before seeing him come across the cement floor; my target had arrived.
My position hung a short distance from his car; far enough to avoid hitting it and possibly calling attention from an alarm, but close enough so he couldn't escape. He seemed completely unaware of my presence. I couldn't understand why the master said he needed to be eliminated because he knew too much about the organization. If he knew that much, he wouldn't act so ignorant to what we're capable of.
I watched carefully, specifically, until the precisely right moment to drop. I silently detached and fell swiftly, positioning my claws just so. He had been fumbling for his key until he saw the shadow approach, but he noticed too late. The metal went directly through his throat, cutting off the scream that would have come had I been a second later. As I landed, so did he; the back of his head hit the ground and the sound of my claws scraping the cement told me that my mission was indeed complete. I retracted my weapon from his body and swept one of the blood stains from my bare chest. Looking down at the terrified look frozen on his face, I smirked. "It wasn't worth worrying over something like you."
Before spending too much time in the open, I leapt back to the ceiling and made my way for the small window at the top end of the garage.
__ __ __
It was my luck that kept me from needing to report straight to the master. I was able to contact an agent first who gave him the report for me. I hated seeing the master; it took all of my self control to keep the anger he caused at bay. Until I was called on for another assignment, I was free.
I didn't like being seen casually in public; it tainted my image. So I departed from civilization and instead went to a small wooded lake that I knew of in the area, as that wasn't my first visit. Even in the distance from town I masked myself farther by resting in a short tree. I let out a soft and satisfied sigh. I had succeeded once more, setting me that much farther from more punishment.
My sigh was cut off quickly. The feeling of strangulation was all too easy to recognize. But I didn't understand how anyone could have gotten to me without me noticing. I wasn't one to be caught off guard. I opened my eyes to see who had a grasp on my throat. A piercing red glow shot from his eyes and penetrated my vision before I could see much more. I knew many escape techniques and knew exactly when to use which ones. I quickly sent my feet out from under the weight of my legs and hurled myself to land on my hands. Although the movement applied more pressure, the purpose was to surprise the attacker and cause them to slam down while I balanced. But I didn't get to complete this technique; in fact, he seemed to be expecting it fully well. Removing one hand from my throat, he twisted around behind me and tried to throw me off balance instead.
I'd never been defeated and never been the one to fall, but the pressure was traveling to my head and I barely caught myself. But my opponent was no amateur; he took the opportunity of my recovery to throw his weight over me and send us both down from the tree. My back hit the ground hard, but I would have been able to take it were it not for the suffocation. I naturally tried to let out a groan, but the breath couldn't escape my chest. It was only a few more seconds before my vision left me. All I heard was a voice with a slight rasp speaking to me, "Leave this place."
I know I said I wouldn't write anymore, at least for the time being, but I really feel like writing's the only thing in this world that I can do a halfway decent job in. I feel empty without it. This is the only successful piece out of many, many attempts. I really hope I can continue this story, as well.
I also realize that I've been writing Smash Brothers fanfiction for a while now, and so I doubt I'll have my old readers (meaning I probably won't have any readers at all, actually). But if you know me, you realize that Street Fighter is my favorite game series and that I obsess endlessly over it--more specifically, Vega. ^^; So, I expect my tastes to be respected, and if you don't do so, I'll just laugh at you.
I hope I my style hasn't totally gone to hell, so I'd REALLY appreciate at least someone giving me feedback and telling me if I suck or not. It's very important to me right now. But I'll stop babbling and whining and get on with the story.
___ ___ ___
After hours of staring at the ceiling, the floor, and everything in between, I finally accepted that it was hopeless; I wasn't getting to sleep. I turned to the glowing red numbers sitting on the bedside table. Almost 4:30. With a sigh, I rolled my head back to look at the ceiling once more. "I just shouldn't think about it," I mumbled to myself. It was a bad habit I had.
But what I said was true. Naturally, I needed sleep to perform perfectly, and I had a mission at dawn. Then again, that was probably why I was thinking about it to begin with. Usually missions are to be carried out as soon as they're ordered, and distance was no limit to his transportation. That night was the first time I had to wait, giving me time to do nothing but linger on the apprehension of what might happen if I failed. It was usually quick, and faded when the mission was complete.
That apprehension was what drove me to put every bit of concentration into assuring that each and every mission would be carried out with perfection. Perhaps that's what drives every assassin: the determination to satisfy their master--not out of respect, but out of fear.
I broke my stare on the plaster ceiling and turned onto my left side, pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed to cover myself. "Maybe it's better that I don't sleep," I mumbled once again, then lowered to a whisper as I slowly sent my hand down to my sore legs. "I'm afraid of what I might dream."
__ __ __
I only had to hide in the car park for a short while. With experience and skill, I attached to the steep ceiling, avoiding casting shadows or being visible in any way, and being able to gracefully depart at any moment. I heard the footsteps long before seeing him come across the cement floor; my target had arrived.
My position hung a short distance from his car; far enough to avoid hitting it and possibly calling attention from an alarm, but close enough so he couldn't escape. He seemed completely unaware of my presence. I couldn't understand why the master said he needed to be eliminated because he knew too much about the organization. If he knew that much, he wouldn't act so ignorant to what we're capable of.
I watched carefully, specifically, until the precisely right moment to drop. I silently detached and fell swiftly, positioning my claws just so. He had been fumbling for his key until he saw the shadow approach, but he noticed too late. The metal went directly through his throat, cutting off the scream that would have come had I been a second later. As I landed, so did he; the back of his head hit the ground and the sound of my claws scraping the cement told me that my mission was indeed complete. I retracted my weapon from his body and swept one of the blood stains from my bare chest. Looking down at the terrified look frozen on his face, I smirked. "It wasn't worth worrying over something like you."
Before spending too much time in the open, I leapt back to the ceiling and made my way for the small window at the top end of the garage.
__ __ __
It was my luck that kept me from needing to report straight to the master. I was able to contact an agent first who gave him the report for me. I hated seeing the master; it took all of my self control to keep the anger he caused at bay. Until I was called on for another assignment, I was free.
I didn't like being seen casually in public; it tainted my image. So I departed from civilization and instead went to a small wooded lake that I knew of in the area, as that wasn't my first visit. Even in the distance from town I masked myself farther by resting in a short tree. I let out a soft and satisfied sigh. I had succeeded once more, setting me that much farther from more punishment.
My sigh was cut off quickly. The feeling of strangulation was all too easy to recognize. But I didn't understand how anyone could have gotten to me without me noticing. I wasn't one to be caught off guard. I opened my eyes to see who had a grasp on my throat. A piercing red glow shot from his eyes and penetrated my vision before I could see much more. I knew many escape techniques and knew exactly when to use which ones. I quickly sent my feet out from under the weight of my legs and hurled myself to land on my hands. Although the movement applied more pressure, the purpose was to surprise the attacker and cause them to slam down while I balanced. But I didn't get to complete this technique; in fact, he seemed to be expecting it fully well. Removing one hand from my throat, he twisted around behind me and tried to throw me off balance instead.
I'd never been defeated and never been the one to fall, but the pressure was traveling to my head and I barely caught myself. But my opponent was no amateur; he took the opportunity of my recovery to throw his weight over me and send us both down from the tree. My back hit the ground hard, but I would have been able to take it were it not for the suffocation. I naturally tried to let out a groan, but the breath couldn't escape my chest. It was only a few more seconds before my vision left me. All I heard was a voice with a slight rasp speaking to me, "Leave this place."