Assassins Creed- Trade of the Blade
This is my first fan-fic, so bear with me. I don't mind criticism, but if you could make it constructive that'd be great, R&R & Enjoy! (new chapter at least once a week)
Chapter 1- Click... Click... and one last careful click came from the locker. Jackal had always had a knack for cracking safes and finding codes. When he needed it he could do something with his eyes he closed them for a few concentrated seconds then opened them. His sight would change. Instantly the world was grey, but the things hidden from the naked eye, they were brightly illuminated. He could see the finger prints from the jock that had propped himself on the wall an hour ago. Or the orange glow of the blunt in the stoner's back-pack. He could even see under clothing (This had its pros and cons) But most importantly he could see the lock turn inside this locker.
With the final click, the door popped open. I turned to Daniel
"Do your dirty work" He gave me a toothy grin and replied,
"Gimme 30 seconds and we can split" his southern drawl made him sound less intelligent than the short boy from Mississippi showed. Carefully he put the six cans of deodorant spray along with some twine, two paper clips and a hand full of cheep BIC lighters in the locker. As I kept watch, I glanced over and saw his arms moving, his hands were concealed by the locker door, but I changed my sight and saw the hands fumbling at lightning speed, arming the trap. Damn Jocks were going to pay. This was for all the times that they had stolen Jackal and Daniel's clothes in the locker room. All the times they cheated of their tests. All the times they stole the girls just as the two were about to get dates for the first time.
Finally the two outcasts would start to gain revenge. High school was a war. Jackal had learned this in his previous year. The year that had been the beginning of this living hell. But today was the first day of sophomore year. This year he would change the tide of this war. He would come out on top. Sure the "Jocks" were stronger, but Jackal had learned that strength didn't matter in a fight, it was all strategy. His father had taught him this in his education of combat. Somehow Jackal's dad was skilled in hand-to-hand combat. He even had a custom made blade from the ancient group known as the Assassins. I always wondered about that blade.
"Jack," Daniels voice whispered, "I'm done. Let's get the heck outta here. I think someone's coming!" sure enough the squeak of new Air Jordan's echoed through the hall. This was it. All twenty-three traps were set. All ready to spring on the douche bag Jocks and the stuck-up cheerleaders. The day was about to end, the bell would ring in about five minutes. Enough time for Jackal and Daniel to be on their way home in Jackals old F-150.
The two loners rushed down the hall, footsteps echoing. Hitting the blacktop, the two sprinted for the truck. At first the old thing didn't start. Daniel cursed and Jackal seconded his curse. "Come on baby," Daniel stroked the front dash after three more attempts the ancient truck began to purr.
"Thank God," Jackal said with a sigh of relief. Just then Daniel flicked on the radio station and began to blare country music. It wasn't Jackal's favorite, but in his small Ohio city/town of Youngstown, it was popular, and the genre wasn't bad for the occasion. Then, Daniel floored it, leaving tire marks where the pick-up had been. The two laughed hysterically as they imagined what their victims would look like tomorrow.
