AN: I'm not a violent person, but Hiead is; hence the 'possible violence'. Read and Review!
Chapter II: The End of the Beginning.
Hiead sat with his back against one of the buildings on the outskirts of the village; his face looking toward to the Wall, but his eyes not seeing it. He liked to think of the dangers that were said to be out there, liked to think about how he would crush anything that would dare to keep him away from those dangers. He had, over the course of years, sat in this very place and ran combat situations through his head; he called it 'Image Training'. One of his favorite victims was Him.
Hiead was in the middle of envisioning every detail of the blood splatters when he heard footsteps. Resisting his instinctive urge to look at who was coming; he instead waited for the person to show him or herself.
The person positioned himself in the shadows, but just inside Hiead's peripheral vision. Hiead automatically started calculated his chances of winning, should the person attack him.
He's older than I am, but that just means he has less maneuverability; taller, so I would need to deliver a good blow to the solar plexus, in order to bring his head down to my level. Of course, from here he looks as if he is already going to collapse, so it might only take one punch to drop him.
The man shifted uncomfortably.
Hiead allowed himself a slight smile at the man's uneasiness. He had found that silence is best, because most people can't stand silence. In an attempt to fill it they blabber on about themselves, and give Hiead information that he can use against them later. The man shifted again, and then finally stepped out of the shadows. As he walked forward he spoke,
"Normally I would not let a mere child like you get the best of me; however, I'm a very busy person. I don't have the time to be here playing games with you, Hiead Gner."
Hiead turned to face the man as the darkness withdrew from the stranger's face, exposing the grey-green eyes and the pale face that was set with lines of exhaustion; it also wasn't a face of any stranger, rather it was a face that Hiead could never forget.
His hands curled into fists almost of their own violation; Hiead glared at them as if they had betrayed him.
"Heh, not glad to see me are you? You remember what I—" His hand went to his mouth as a coughing fit seized his voice.
Part one! My muse left me for a better author halfway through this chapter, and my new muse and I are still settling our differences. A review or two might ease the argument. Thanks!