Mehehe.I'm having fun with my short stories. ^^ Don't worry- Gaav will
come. Right now I'm just worrying about somebody ousting this fic for not
fitting in the Slayers category . . . . ^^;;; Maybe I can stun them all
with my mad skillz! Um. Anywho. This one's a bit confusing, so if you have
any questions, go ahead and email me about them. Enjoy!
Fiery red hair flaps violently in the wind, as it's adolescent owner stands over a dying friend. He looks up in fury and bewilderment at the offender. His stomach churns-this doesn't make /sense/. "What's going on?!" His inquisition is met with silence. "Tell me!" Still, his opponent does not respond, head down. His temper flares up in irritation. Under his breath he starts to mutters a chant, and a radiant light appears in his hand. "If you won't tell me . . . . . " He threatens boldly, and points the spell in her direction. She looks up suddenly, tears in her large black eyes on a face that was painfully grievous. "Crimen, why won't you wake up?!"
"What-" Everything faded to black.
Mere hours before, Crimen had been running out the door to pick up his partner and best friend, Vogel, in time for the mission. Both of them had recently joined a private organization, and they were getting their first tiresome, absolutely purposeless assignments. The organization did major things like stop wars, but the missions /they/ got were more like listening in on people who may or may not have something to do with someone who knows the person who's the real problem's sister. It was like a . . . . a gossip chain. It was stifling -but as Vogel always pointed out, this organization's so immense and important, they probably /have/ to test the newbies with stupid things.
Vogel laughed to see his comrade rushing over to him in a sort of frenzied panic. "Calm! The world won't end if we're a little bit late." Crimen shot Vogel a dirty look.
"I'd think you'd be even more excited then me," he retorted. "I know how much you love to be bored . . ."
"Enthralled." Vogel chuckled. "Now let's move it-can't miss an exciting day of irrelevant eavesdropping!"
Their mission had been simply to pick up a package and take it back to headquarters. That's all. Vogel had jokingly said how you KNEW a mission was sad when it was pick up the Vice President's imported authentic tea. They laughed, and the assignment went over smoothly, as always.
On the way back there was a sudden and drastic change in the normality- a young women standing out in the road, right in their path. Dark, straight hair fell into her face, and her head was bowed, as though in mourning. Upon seeing her, Vogel's eyes suddenly seemed to cloud. He stopped driving, and turned to Crimen with a anguished expression. There was grave, worn sadness in his eyes. "Why won't you wake up?"
"Vogel!" Crimen panicked. "Vogel, what the hell are you talking about? Steer, dammit!" Crimen grabbed the steering wheel and swerved the car sharply, to avoid hitting the girl. She remained unmoving. The car spun wildly, and crashed into a brick building. Crimen remembered hitting the brick wall dizzily-it was the worst part. More the sound then how it felt. He remembered climbing out the car, and standing, bewildered,. over his bleeding companion. He looked up at the girl to yell at her, and noticed a badge on her shirt. A badge of the agency. In large writing, the badge read : "President."
As Crimen hits the ground, a familiar voice enters his head . . . . . "Don't you hear me, Crimen?"
"Miss Muehe." A young nurse with a sad face came into the small meeting room of a tidy and calm hospital. "I'm afraid it's time to go."
The woman in the room slowly stood up. She looked down sadly at the long, crimson hair that framed an expressionless face. Still she could not seem to bring him back to reality.
He looked up at her, blue eyes blinking back at hers in confusion. "Why aren't you back at the agency?" Tears threatened her eyes, and she turned quickly. The nurse gave her a small hug, to try and comfort her.
"Do you . . . . . suppose he'll ever come back to reality?" She asked tearfully, looking back at the red-haired man.
"I don't know, miss Muehe." They left the room. Crimen was alone.
Fiery red hair flaps violently in the wind, as it's adolescent owner stands over a dying friend. He looks up in fury and bewilderment at the offender. His stomach churns-this doesn't make /sense/. "What's going on?!" His inquisition is met with silence. "Tell me!" Still, his opponent does not respond, head down. His temper flares up in irritation. Under his breath he starts to mutters a chant, and a radiant light appears in his hand. "If you won't tell me . . . . . " He threatens boldly, and points the spell in her direction. She looks up suddenly, tears in her large black eyes on a face that was painfully grievous. "Crimen, why won't you wake up?!"
"What-" Everything faded to black.
Mere hours before, Crimen had been running out the door to pick up his partner and best friend, Vogel, in time for the mission. Both of them had recently joined a private organization, and they were getting their first tiresome, absolutely purposeless assignments. The organization did major things like stop wars, but the missions /they/ got were more like listening in on people who may or may not have something to do with someone who knows the person who's the real problem's sister. It was like a . . . . a gossip chain. It was stifling -but as Vogel always pointed out, this organization's so immense and important, they probably /have/ to test the newbies with stupid things.
Vogel laughed to see his comrade rushing over to him in a sort of frenzied panic. "Calm! The world won't end if we're a little bit late." Crimen shot Vogel a dirty look.
"I'd think you'd be even more excited then me," he retorted. "I know how much you love to be bored . . ."
"Enthralled." Vogel chuckled. "Now let's move it-can't miss an exciting day of irrelevant eavesdropping!"
Their mission had been simply to pick up a package and take it back to headquarters. That's all. Vogel had jokingly said how you KNEW a mission was sad when it was pick up the Vice President's imported authentic tea. They laughed, and the assignment went over smoothly, as always.
On the way back there was a sudden and drastic change in the normality- a young women standing out in the road, right in their path. Dark, straight hair fell into her face, and her head was bowed, as though in mourning. Upon seeing her, Vogel's eyes suddenly seemed to cloud. He stopped driving, and turned to Crimen with a anguished expression. There was grave, worn sadness in his eyes. "Why won't you wake up?"
"Vogel!" Crimen panicked. "Vogel, what the hell are you talking about? Steer, dammit!" Crimen grabbed the steering wheel and swerved the car sharply, to avoid hitting the girl. She remained unmoving. The car spun wildly, and crashed into a brick building. Crimen remembered hitting the brick wall dizzily-it was the worst part. More the sound then how it felt. He remembered climbing out the car, and standing, bewildered,. over his bleeding companion. He looked up at the girl to yell at her, and noticed a badge on her shirt. A badge of the agency. In large writing, the badge read : "President."
As Crimen hits the ground, a familiar voice enters his head . . . . . "Don't you hear me, Crimen?"
"Miss Muehe." A young nurse with a sad face came into the small meeting room of a tidy and calm hospital. "I'm afraid it's time to go."
The woman in the room slowly stood up. She looked down sadly at the long, crimson hair that framed an expressionless face. Still she could not seem to bring him back to reality.
He looked up at her, blue eyes blinking back at hers in confusion. "Why aren't you back at the agency?" Tears threatened her eyes, and she turned quickly. The nurse gave her a small hug, to try and comfort her.
"Do you . . . . . suppose he'll ever come back to reality?" She asked tearfully, looking back at the red-haired man.
"I don't know, miss Muehe." They left the room. Crimen was alone.