Falcon in the Dive
To lose one's wealth is sad indeed. Too lose one's health is more. To lose one's soul is such a loss That no man can restore." -Robert H. Smith
Prologue
Febuary in Tokyo. The sky was gray, a steady drizzle of rain falling from it. It was just above zero Celcius, so the snow melted before it reached the ground. Grey trees reached plantively for the sky, their spindly limbs rattling in the cold wind that swept down through the buildings. The people lumbered through the wet streets, dressed in dreary clothing and jacket to protect them from the weather. All color had been washed from the world, and all that was left was an ugly gray that permated everything. That night, the streets would freeze and the homeless left outside would do the same, their rigid bodies to be found sometime the next day, carried off to wherever the homeless were buried. The cold seeped into everything, every bone, every brick, and people did their best to get out before it hurt to much.
Brad Crawford leaned back in his chair, turning from his computer and gazing out the window onto the dreary world below. It was rare that he stopped work, but he could not concentrate today. Even after years of working under the hardest stress, dealing with the fightings of his team mates when they became to much, he could not bring his structred mind to the task of hand.
Today was the day he was supposed to die.
End Prologue
Hey all! I've had a Crawford fic stirring in my head for a very long time now, but things suddenly clicked into place. I warn you all, this may be depressing. Maybe no...but you never know. ^^ Remember, Brad at 12 is NOT Crawford. That's part of the point of the story. I'm still working on GWL, don't fear! I just need something so I don't get stuck in a rut. Tell me what you think, anyway! 10-12-2002
To lose one's wealth is sad indeed. Too lose one's health is more. To lose one's soul is such a loss That no man can restore." -Robert H. Smith
Prologue
Febuary in Tokyo. The sky was gray, a steady drizzle of rain falling from it. It was just above zero Celcius, so the snow melted before it reached the ground. Grey trees reached plantively for the sky, their spindly limbs rattling in the cold wind that swept down through the buildings. The people lumbered through the wet streets, dressed in dreary clothing and jacket to protect them from the weather. All color had been washed from the world, and all that was left was an ugly gray that permated everything. That night, the streets would freeze and the homeless left outside would do the same, their rigid bodies to be found sometime the next day, carried off to wherever the homeless were buried. The cold seeped into everything, every bone, every brick, and people did their best to get out before it hurt to much.
Brad Crawford leaned back in his chair, turning from his computer and gazing out the window onto the dreary world below. It was rare that he stopped work, but he could not concentrate today. Even after years of working under the hardest stress, dealing with the fightings of his team mates when they became to much, he could not bring his structred mind to the task of hand.
Today was the day he was supposed to die.
End Prologue
Hey all! I've had a Crawford fic stirring in my head for a very long time now, but things suddenly clicked into place. I warn you all, this may be depressing. Maybe no...but you never know. ^^ Remember, Brad at 12 is NOT Crawford. That's part of the point of the story. I'm still working on GWL, don't fear! I just need something so I don't get stuck in a rut. Tell me what you think, anyway! 10-12-2002