Chapter Twenty-Eight: When Day Has Gone and Come Again
"Stop here!" Dante yelled from the back seat of an armored transport. "Here!" he cried again, and finally the driver had stopped. The driver picked the radio up from its base on the dashboard and held his thumb firmly on its button.
"Stop here," he exclaimed, and the rest of the vehicles - along with a jeep - stopped around them. Jumping up from his seat in rage, he ducked to the door in the middle row of seats and pushed it wide open, stumbling onto the dry alley floor. Quickly, the others emerged from their transports and stood before him. A FACtion soldier in black uniform helped Colonel Campbell out of one of the armored vehicles and stood at his side - gun in hand.
"Where are the 1st Officers?" he asked the nearest uniformed man who saluted hastily and went on to answer.
"They are somewhere in the city, sir," the man replied. Dante's face melted into a look of disgust.
"Somewhere in the city?!" he roared. "Get them on the radio," he ordered as the man before him remained still with fear. "NOW!" Saluting him once more, the man ducked into the front seat of the jeep and began to fiddle with the dials on the radio console.
"Sir?" Another man questioned. Dante turned to him rigidly and looked to the man's left where there stood Mei Ling and Naomi. "What are we to do with them?"
Turning away, Dante walked toward the wall of a bordering building and braced his hands against the dirty bricks. His eyes were closed tight and his breathing was slowing rapidly. He inhaled deeply and then pushed off the wall again, turning to face them before falling back against the wall - his back to it. A twisted smile came over him as his eyes surveyed the two women.
Pausing for a moment, his mouth slightly open but no words escaping, he cocked his head and something twinkled in his eye. "We need a new location.a hotel, perhaps?" Mei Ling and Naomi both realized his intentions. "We'll set up camp there, and maybe.maybe we'll find some time alone?" He pushed off the wall and began to walk steadily toward the two, his eyes glued to their bodies - which were unsurprisingly fit.
Stopping between the two, he turned to Naomi first and set his hand on her shoulder.lightly enough to give comfort, but tightly enough to prevent any confusion as to who was in control. Smiling at her, he turned to Mei Ling and ran his hand through her silk-like hair, its smooth touch moisturizing his hands and sending a wave of purity through him. Leaning toward her, he spoke quietly into her ear: "I will make time for you."
Mei Ling's eyes did not burn with fury, but rather fear. Tears began to swell into pools around her eyes, and only when Dante had turned back to the jeep did she blink, letting the salty sin drip down her cheeks and well at the tip of her chin before letting the stingy concrete swallow them up with its heat - having been exposed all day to the sweltering sun.
"Sir," the uniformed man called from the jeep. He was waving the radio in his hand, and Dante had raised his index finger to make sure Mei Ling and Naomi both knew he would not be long. Pacing toward the jeep, he snatched up the radio and pressed his thumb on the side button.
"Dante," he stated, identifying himself to the officer. He waited, hearing an odd hiss in the radio, followed by an eerie slithering voice, no louder than a whisper:
"Master, I offer you my services," she hissed. Dante took a seat in the driver's spot and looked over the dashboard, monitoring the activity ahead of him. "What are my orders?"
"Esher," Dante said aloud, "take the others with you to Tower One. Do whatever you must," he paused. "I want the Patriot dead before sunup."
"Understood," she confirmed. And then the radio went silent.there was a click.and the crackle of absent conversation quickly ceased when Dante clicked off the power. Looking over the crowd he noticed one member was absent. His eyes flashed with anger.
"Campbell." he said absentmindedly. "Campbell.where is he?!" They all turned their heads this way and that, but there was no sign of him. Dante recalled seeing him with another FACtion soldier when they had stopped in the alley, but his memory was hazed and unclear. The images of the past minutes were blurred in with those of the past hours and no one moment stood out.
"Don't move," a delicate voice ordered from beside the jeep. Dante stopped, his anger mixing with frustration. Turning around slowly, he saw an M9 pointed at his forehead, and the other FACtion officials, soldiers, and drivers made no moves. "The Colonel is being relocated," the voice called from beneath a black cloth that covered the character's nose, mouth, and forehead, exposing only her eyes. And, covering the rest of her body was a heavy black trench coat, its collars standing straight in the air.
"Who -?" Dante tried, but the woman quickly pinned the M9 to his forehead, putting him to silence. He blinked and swallowed heavily, looking deeply into the character's eyes. They were a magnificent green.
"You don't need to know," the voice assured him. "Do you wish to die?" Dante hesitated, though knowing his answer from the second the veiled character had finished asking.
"Not unless you wish to die with me," he jerked a thumb toward his company. The woman chuckled and cocked her head.
"Life is highly overrated," the woman admitted. "Its only benefit is to be witness to the greatest of our kind. Those who conquer the arts give the only reason to our spiteful existence. Those who do not make the spotlight serve as the audience. It is an inevitable thing.but I, unfortunately, embrace the entertainment. And thus, I cannot let myself die here." That was relief to Dante. "But who's to say that your end means mine?"
Dante went deathly pale. The woman's eyes glinted with victory and then.'Click!'
"Stop right there!" a man cried from behind the woman. She could sense a gun behind her, and with a cruel grin she aimed just left of Dante's head and fired twice before the man behind her pulled the trigger. In a second, she had fired off two bullets and miraculously had dodged to the right when the man behind her fired his 8mm into Dante's chest - breaking through his ribs and busting out of his back.
As Dante grabbed the wound - almost three inches below his heart - the man holding Mei Ling and Naomi began to fall - two holes in his head from the woman's M9 - and the woman gained her balance and darted forward, snatching Mei Ling as another trench coat-clad figure got a hold of Naomi and began firing off his shotgun and a spare sidearm, and the third emerged from the beginnings of a shadow with his blade in clear sight.
Bullets dashing in every direction - some being deflected by Fox's blade, some shattering the dingy brick walls, and others making their marks in FACtion flesh - the three trench coat-clad figures disappeared into adjacent alleyways with three others under their cover: Mei Ling, Naomi, and Colonel Campbell.
Dante watched the ceiling of the armored vehicle as he was moved into the back seat on a spare piece of wood. He looked down at his chest, which still stung, and saw a mess of tangled dressings wrapped about his body - a red stain forming a circle where the pain was most evident.
A man moved over him, his eyes filled with pain of seeing his leader in such a condition. "We're taking you to a hospital," the man said. "They were left open to help treat victims from the bombing.we'll make sure you are served right away."
Dante reached up and lightly touched the man's face, bringing him close. "No," he said plainly.
"Sir?" the man asked, not quite sure of what Dante had meant.
"I'm not going to the hospital," Dante rephrased himself, and watching the man sigh with sadness he went on. "We belong at the Tower.take me to Tower One."
The man looked back with compassion, but also with pity. It made Dante feel uncomfortable. "Sir, you need to see a doctor, and -"
"It will be pitch soon," Dante interjected, inhaling deeply, though not enough to retain his normal tone - instead forcing a cracked and vicious voice from the depths, "and when day has gone.and come again.the Patriot shall be dead!"
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I'm going to tell you all now, that I most likely will not write anymore Author's Notes, because I tend to think they ruin the moment the chapter ends on. But, nonetheless, I am sorry for the long wait and while this seems to be an excuse not worth excusing me for, I cannot finish this without reviews. I have a terrible problem with finishing anything as it is, but it was the constant support that I gained in 'The Compilation' that got me to its end. And I want to be able to finish this story more than you want to read it, believe me, but I cannot do that without your continuing support. So, please, everyone who reads this, make a habit of reviewing more than once a story, or else this story might not show up on the site when you're looking for a good taste of suspense and drama. Thank you for reading, and I hope that you enjoy what is to come if we make it there.
~ espresso
"Stop here!" Dante yelled from the back seat of an armored transport. "Here!" he cried again, and finally the driver had stopped. The driver picked the radio up from its base on the dashboard and held his thumb firmly on its button.
"Stop here," he exclaimed, and the rest of the vehicles - along with a jeep - stopped around them. Jumping up from his seat in rage, he ducked to the door in the middle row of seats and pushed it wide open, stumbling onto the dry alley floor. Quickly, the others emerged from their transports and stood before him. A FACtion soldier in black uniform helped Colonel Campbell out of one of the armored vehicles and stood at his side - gun in hand.
"Where are the 1st Officers?" he asked the nearest uniformed man who saluted hastily and went on to answer.
"They are somewhere in the city, sir," the man replied. Dante's face melted into a look of disgust.
"Somewhere in the city?!" he roared. "Get them on the radio," he ordered as the man before him remained still with fear. "NOW!" Saluting him once more, the man ducked into the front seat of the jeep and began to fiddle with the dials on the radio console.
"Sir?" Another man questioned. Dante turned to him rigidly and looked to the man's left where there stood Mei Ling and Naomi. "What are we to do with them?"
Turning away, Dante walked toward the wall of a bordering building and braced his hands against the dirty bricks. His eyes were closed tight and his breathing was slowing rapidly. He inhaled deeply and then pushed off the wall again, turning to face them before falling back against the wall - his back to it. A twisted smile came over him as his eyes surveyed the two women.
Pausing for a moment, his mouth slightly open but no words escaping, he cocked his head and something twinkled in his eye. "We need a new location.a hotel, perhaps?" Mei Ling and Naomi both realized his intentions. "We'll set up camp there, and maybe.maybe we'll find some time alone?" He pushed off the wall and began to walk steadily toward the two, his eyes glued to their bodies - which were unsurprisingly fit.
Stopping between the two, he turned to Naomi first and set his hand on her shoulder.lightly enough to give comfort, but tightly enough to prevent any confusion as to who was in control. Smiling at her, he turned to Mei Ling and ran his hand through her silk-like hair, its smooth touch moisturizing his hands and sending a wave of purity through him. Leaning toward her, he spoke quietly into her ear: "I will make time for you."
Mei Ling's eyes did not burn with fury, but rather fear. Tears began to swell into pools around her eyes, and only when Dante had turned back to the jeep did she blink, letting the salty sin drip down her cheeks and well at the tip of her chin before letting the stingy concrete swallow them up with its heat - having been exposed all day to the sweltering sun.
"Sir," the uniformed man called from the jeep. He was waving the radio in his hand, and Dante had raised his index finger to make sure Mei Ling and Naomi both knew he would not be long. Pacing toward the jeep, he snatched up the radio and pressed his thumb on the side button.
"Dante," he stated, identifying himself to the officer. He waited, hearing an odd hiss in the radio, followed by an eerie slithering voice, no louder than a whisper:
"Master, I offer you my services," she hissed. Dante took a seat in the driver's spot and looked over the dashboard, monitoring the activity ahead of him. "What are my orders?"
"Esher," Dante said aloud, "take the others with you to Tower One. Do whatever you must," he paused. "I want the Patriot dead before sunup."
"Understood," she confirmed. And then the radio went silent.there was a click.and the crackle of absent conversation quickly ceased when Dante clicked off the power. Looking over the crowd he noticed one member was absent. His eyes flashed with anger.
"Campbell." he said absentmindedly. "Campbell.where is he?!" They all turned their heads this way and that, but there was no sign of him. Dante recalled seeing him with another FACtion soldier when they had stopped in the alley, but his memory was hazed and unclear. The images of the past minutes were blurred in with those of the past hours and no one moment stood out.
"Don't move," a delicate voice ordered from beside the jeep. Dante stopped, his anger mixing with frustration. Turning around slowly, he saw an M9 pointed at his forehead, and the other FACtion officials, soldiers, and drivers made no moves. "The Colonel is being relocated," the voice called from beneath a black cloth that covered the character's nose, mouth, and forehead, exposing only her eyes. And, covering the rest of her body was a heavy black trench coat, its collars standing straight in the air.
"Who -?" Dante tried, but the woman quickly pinned the M9 to his forehead, putting him to silence. He blinked and swallowed heavily, looking deeply into the character's eyes. They were a magnificent green.
"You don't need to know," the voice assured him. "Do you wish to die?" Dante hesitated, though knowing his answer from the second the veiled character had finished asking.
"Not unless you wish to die with me," he jerked a thumb toward his company. The woman chuckled and cocked her head.
"Life is highly overrated," the woman admitted. "Its only benefit is to be witness to the greatest of our kind. Those who conquer the arts give the only reason to our spiteful existence. Those who do not make the spotlight serve as the audience. It is an inevitable thing.but I, unfortunately, embrace the entertainment. And thus, I cannot let myself die here." That was relief to Dante. "But who's to say that your end means mine?"
Dante went deathly pale. The woman's eyes glinted with victory and then.'Click!'
"Stop right there!" a man cried from behind the woman. She could sense a gun behind her, and with a cruel grin she aimed just left of Dante's head and fired twice before the man behind her pulled the trigger. In a second, she had fired off two bullets and miraculously had dodged to the right when the man behind her fired his 8mm into Dante's chest - breaking through his ribs and busting out of his back.
As Dante grabbed the wound - almost three inches below his heart - the man holding Mei Ling and Naomi began to fall - two holes in his head from the woman's M9 - and the woman gained her balance and darted forward, snatching Mei Ling as another trench coat-clad figure got a hold of Naomi and began firing off his shotgun and a spare sidearm, and the third emerged from the beginnings of a shadow with his blade in clear sight.
Bullets dashing in every direction - some being deflected by Fox's blade, some shattering the dingy brick walls, and others making their marks in FACtion flesh - the three trench coat-clad figures disappeared into adjacent alleyways with three others under their cover: Mei Ling, Naomi, and Colonel Campbell.
Dante watched the ceiling of the armored vehicle as he was moved into the back seat on a spare piece of wood. He looked down at his chest, which still stung, and saw a mess of tangled dressings wrapped about his body - a red stain forming a circle where the pain was most evident.
A man moved over him, his eyes filled with pain of seeing his leader in such a condition. "We're taking you to a hospital," the man said. "They were left open to help treat victims from the bombing.we'll make sure you are served right away."
Dante reached up and lightly touched the man's face, bringing him close. "No," he said plainly.
"Sir?" the man asked, not quite sure of what Dante had meant.
"I'm not going to the hospital," Dante rephrased himself, and watching the man sigh with sadness he went on. "We belong at the Tower.take me to Tower One."
The man looked back with compassion, but also with pity. It made Dante feel uncomfortable. "Sir, you need to see a doctor, and -"
"It will be pitch soon," Dante interjected, inhaling deeply, though not enough to retain his normal tone - instead forcing a cracked and vicious voice from the depths, "and when day has gone.and come again.the Patriot shall be dead!"
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I'm going to tell you all now, that I most likely will not write anymore Author's Notes, because I tend to think they ruin the moment the chapter ends on. But, nonetheless, I am sorry for the long wait and while this seems to be an excuse not worth excusing me for, I cannot finish this without reviews. I have a terrible problem with finishing anything as it is, but it was the constant support that I gained in 'The Compilation' that got me to its end. And I want to be able to finish this story more than you want to read it, believe me, but I cannot do that without your continuing support. So, please, everyone who reads this, make a habit of reviewing more than once a story, or else this story might not show up on the site when you're looking for a good taste of suspense and drama. Thank you for reading, and I hope that you enjoy what is to come if we make it there.
~ espresso