Ok, this is the first chapter of the sequel to The Fallen Angel, this is, The Source of Pain. Hope you like it!
The Source of Pain
Chapter 1
B. T .S.
"He ran through the city, more than a thousand men in hot pursuit. He turned down an alley. When his pursuers turned the corner, they're prey had disappeared. One man spotted him on the roof tops. They began stacking things to climb. He had jumped an impossible twenty feet in the air to the roof! The chase was on again. B. T. S. jumping roof to roof–."
"Impossible! How could he have outran one thousand men shooting at him! You're making up more stories again!"
"Not to be rude sir, but you must realize, only about ten of the men were able to shoot, the others were behind them, and would have killed the person in front of them, had they shot. And, I am not making this up."
The blond haired boy stared across the table, smirking lightly, swirling his drink softly. The old man glared. One of the many people gathered around the table urged him to continue his story.
"When B. T. S. reached the end of the line of buildings, he was forced back to the floor, the men, had to climb down, one by one, and by the time they had chased B. T. S. halfway through the desert, they realized they had lost. The men were lost in the desert for many horrible nights. A few days later, one of them sat in the local saloon. He noticed B. T. S. Sitting in a stool at the bar. He turned at smiled at the man. The man sat down his drink and walked out of the bar, not wanting anything more to do with B. T. S."
Everyone around the table stared in silence as the boy took a sip of his drink. They waited patiently for him to continue. He reached down into the pockets of his pants. He pulled out a small gold round object, with the push of a button, it flipped open. The silence that hung over the crowd was intense that the clicking of the small pocket watch could be heard across the room.
"Well, looks like it's time for me to go!" Everyone slumped their shoulders.
"Will you be back tomorrow, Blake?" One old man asked.
"If you want me to come back."
"Only if you tell more stories about B. T. S. Everything else out of your mouth is about women."
"Heh. Yeah, I'll do my homework and find ya a good story, one ya haven't heard yet."
He walked out silently. His blonde hair fell in his one blue eye, and his one green eye. 'The sun is so bright, everyone else is warm. But I feel cold. Why?'
The door to the small home squeaked open. "I'm home!"
A light voice yelled back from the kitchen. "Blake, where have you been! You had me and your father worried sick!" A black-haired women poked her head out the doorway to watch her son remove his shoes and pick up his backpack.
"Iris, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. It's not right to lie."
A single tear fell down Iris's cheek. 'Why do you do this to us Blake, to yourself? Why?'
He walked up the stairs to his room and laid down on the bed. 'I can sleep for three more hours.'
He woke up at 8:45. Exactly 3 hours later. He grinned.
"Vash! Iris! I'm going out, I'll be home soon!"
"You have school tomorrow, don't be gone too long!"
He leaned up against the wall at the back of the saloon. A young looking girl walked out the door, still wearing her uniform, but by the sight of her coat, she was obviously headed home. When she noticed him, she turned and put her hands on her hips.
"If you're looking for handouts, your not gonna get any!"
He smiled. One arm snuck behind her back, pulling her close, the other hand snaked its way up to her face. She gasped as his lips met hers. He pulled away.
"Please, I really am starving." She pushed him off her.
"Dammit, you do this every time I work!"
He had to smile again, her dark brown hair fell in her face, almost covering her eyes completely. He used his hand the tuck the bangs behind her ear, trailing his fingers along her skin. She shivered.
"You have beautiful eyes. You should keep your hair from covering them."
She stamped her foot and turned on her heel. "Good bye!" And with that, she walked away.
He smiled, then winced as a rock flew into his forehead. She was quiet a gal.
~*~*~*~*~
The next day, Blake returned to the small tavern. The old man, who seemed to have no other life than in the bottle, was, once again, eager for a new story.
This time, the dark haired waitress leaned a suspicious ear in the way of the small round table.
"More than a hundred men, all accusing B. T. S. of different horrible acts, were bickering amongst each other. Each claimed that he had been the one to kill one of their loved ones during a time of the day, but if he had done even one of those, he couldn't have possibly done the others, for how could he kill millions of people, in different parts of the desert, in the means of minutes? So, while the ignorant townsfolk fought, B. T. S. waited patiently for them to decide who was going to face him, and played a game of solitaire, which he lost, so a new game was dealt. And, further through the evening, he packed up his cards, and went to bed with the setting sun. No one noticed his absence until the morning, when they found him in the local tavern."
The old man broke out in hysterical laughter. "That little shit! I'm sure he thinks he can get away with just about any damn thing he wants! And he always has a cocky way of doin' it too!"
The other old man sitting there, scoffed. "Folks ain't that stupid. They wouldn't jest let him walk away, and they wouldn't let him play one game, let alone two games of solitaire."
Blake shrugged.
And then he noticed the girl sitting by him.
"Just how is it that you know so much about him anyhow?"
Blake calmly looked at the girl. She suspected that he was making all of this up, and he just wanted to entertain an old man who had nothing to live for except a little bit of good company.
Half the truth.
Not that Blake was going to tell her the truth. Even if he did despise lying, something he had picked up from his foster father, he couldn't tell her the truth.
"He's a good friend of mine."
"Then let me ask you this, what does B. T. S. stand for?"
He stared at her a moment in her eyes, debating whether or not to tell her. The old men leaned in closer, equally eager to hear the boys answer.
"Talk to me when your shift is over."
The girl reached behind her, and untied her apron. She calmly walked to the bar, layed the discarded piece of cloth on the table, and yelled, "I quit!"
The, just as calmly, she retook her seat next to the blond boy.
"Done."
Blake blinked. What did she just? Why did she just? She quit her job?
He blinked again.
The old men looked like they just might pee their pants.
"Blake the Stampede. Son of Vash the Stampede."
She raised an eyebrow. One old man jumped in.
"Ain't your name Blake?"
"Yes."
"Then are you..."
"Yes."
The old man popped up in his seat so fast one would have the impression he hadn't aged past thirty. "Thank you for all the company you've been. But now I have to turn you in."
The old man pulled off a mask to reveal a much younger man, somewhere in his 30's. He had dark blue hair, and blue eyes to match.
The girl stood up and backed away a few steps. "Uh, daddy?"
Blake turned to her, he saw it in her face. There was plenty of resemblance, not only did she have her father's dark eyes, but also his dark hair.
"Hey honey, sorry, but I have to take your boyfriend away. One, he's killed many people and two, he's a liar, saying he's the son of Vash."
Blake looked stunned. He knew Vash?
"Sir, I'm only telling you what Vash himself told me to say."
"Liar! Vash doesn't have a son, especially not the same age as my daughter."
"In all honesty sir, I am four years younger than your daughter."
The girl stamped her foot. "You told me you were 22! Now your telling me your only 16?!"
The officer used his fingers to count years. "Um, that, uh, checks out. But I still don't know. You look the same age as her."
"I never drank coffee, and I take after dad, being tall and all."
"You do look like him..."
"And why would I lie about something like this?"
"To make yourself look good by saying your dad is the legendary gunman."
"I could have said that my father was Knives. I would look like him too."
"How do you know about Knives?"
"He's my uncle." Blake smiled cutely, realizing he had already won the man over.
"Well then, Blake, my name is Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Pleasure to meet you, and this is my daughter, Kira, also your cousin."
Blake suddenly choked, he fell to his knees coughing harshly. Kira ran to the back of the tavern.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"How can you be my uncle? My dad's only brother is Knives..."
"My wife is a sister to Iris, your mother."
Oh boy.
Ok, finally, here is the first chapter of the source of pain! Hope you liked it! Keep your eyes open for more!
The Source of Pain
Chapter 1
B. T .S.
"He ran through the city, more than a thousand men in hot pursuit. He turned down an alley. When his pursuers turned the corner, they're prey had disappeared. One man spotted him on the roof tops. They began stacking things to climb. He had jumped an impossible twenty feet in the air to the roof! The chase was on again. B. T. S. jumping roof to roof–."
"Impossible! How could he have outran one thousand men shooting at him! You're making up more stories again!"
"Not to be rude sir, but you must realize, only about ten of the men were able to shoot, the others were behind them, and would have killed the person in front of them, had they shot. And, I am not making this up."
The blond haired boy stared across the table, smirking lightly, swirling his drink softly. The old man glared. One of the many people gathered around the table urged him to continue his story.
"When B. T. S. reached the end of the line of buildings, he was forced back to the floor, the men, had to climb down, one by one, and by the time they had chased B. T. S. halfway through the desert, they realized they had lost. The men were lost in the desert for many horrible nights. A few days later, one of them sat in the local saloon. He noticed B. T. S. Sitting in a stool at the bar. He turned at smiled at the man. The man sat down his drink and walked out of the bar, not wanting anything more to do with B. T. S."
Everyone around the table stared in silence as the boy took a sip of his drink. They waited patiently for him to continue. He reached down into the pockets of his pants. He pulled out a small gold round object, with the push of a button, it flipped open. The silence that hung over the crowd was intense that the clicking of the small pocket watch could be heard across the room.
"Well, looks like it's time for me to go!" Everyone slumped their shoulders.
"Will you be back tomorrow, Blake?" One old man asked.
"If you want me to come back."
"Only if you tell more stories about B. T. S. Everything else out of your mouth is about women."
"Heh. Yeah, I'll do my homework and find ya a good story, one ya haven't heard yet."
He walked out silently. His blonde hair fell in his one blue eye, and his one green eye. 'The sun is so bright, everyone else is warm. But I feel cold. Why?'
The door to the small home squeaked open. "I'm home!"
A light voice yelled back from the kitchen. "Blake, where have you been! You had me and your father worried sick!" A black-haired women poked her head out the doorway to watch her son remove his shoes and pick up his backpack.
"Iris, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. It's not right to lie."
A single tear fell down Iris's cheek. 'Why do you do this to us Blake, to yourself? Why?'
He walked up the stairs to his room and laid down on the bed. 'I can sleep for three more hours.'
He woke up at 8:45. Exactly 3 hours later. He grinned.
"Vash! Iris! I'm going out, I'll be home soon!"
"You have school tomorrow, don't be gone too long!"
He leaned up against the wall at the back of the saloon. A young looking girl walked out the door, still wearing her uniform, but by the sight of her coat, she was obviously headed home. When she noticed him, she turned and put her hands on her hips.
"If you're looking for handouts, your not gonna get any!"
He smiled. One arm snuck behind her back, pulling her close, the other hand snaked its way up to her face. She gasped as his lips met hers. He pulled away.
"Please, I really am starving." She pushed him off her.
"Dammit, you do this every time I work!"
He had to smile again, her dark brown hair fell in her face, almost covering her eyes completely. He used his hand the tuck the bangs behind her ear, trailing his fingers along her skin. She shivered.
"You have beautiful eyes. You should keep your hair from covering them."
She stamped her foot and turned on her heel. "Good bye!" And with that, she walked away.
He smiled, then winced as a rock flew into his forehead. She was quiet a gal.
~*~*~*~*~
The next day, Blake returned to the small tavern. The old man, who seemed to have no other life than in the bottle, was, once again, eager for a new story.
This time, the dark haired waitress leaned a suspicious ear in the way of the small round table.
"More than a hundred men, all accusing B. T. S. of different horrible acts, were bickering amongst each other. Each claimed that he had been the one to kill one of their loved ones during a time of the day, but if he had done even one of those, he couldn't have possibly done the others, for how could he kill millions of people, in different parts of the desert, in the means of minutes? So, while the ignorant townsfolk fought, B. T. S. waited patiently for them to decide who was going to face him, and played a game of solitaire, which he lost, so a new game was dealt. And, further through the evening, he packed up his cards, and went to bed with the setting sun. No one noticed his absence until the morning, when they found him in the local tavern."
The old man broke out in hysterical laughter. "That little shit! I'm sure he thinks he can get away with just about any damn thing he wants! And he always has a cocky way of doin' it too!"
The other old man sitting there, scoffed. "Folks ain't that stupid. They wouldn't jest let him walk away, and they wouldn't let him play one game, let alone two games of solitaire."
Blake shrugged.
And then he noticed the girl sitting by him.
"Just how is it that you know so much about him anyhow?"
Blake calmly looked at the girl. She suspected that he was making all of this up, and he just wanted to entertain an old man who had nothing to live for except a little bit of good company.
Half the truth.
Not that Blake was going to tell her the truth. Even if he did despise lying, something he had picked up from his foster father, he couldn't tell her the truth.
"He's a good friend of mine."
"Then let me ask you this, what does B. T. S. stand for?"
He stared at her a moment in her eyes, debating whether or not to tell her. The old men leaned in closer, equally eager to hear the boys answer.
"Talk to me when your shift is over."
The girl reached behind her, and untied her apron. She calmly walked to the bar, layed the discarded piece of cloth on the table, and yelled, "I quit!"
The, just as calmly, she retook her seat next to the blond boy.
"Done."
Blake blinked. What did she just? Why did she just? She quit her job?
He blinked again.
The old men looked like they just might pee their pants.
"Blake the Stampede. Son of Vash the Stampede."
She raised an eyebrow. One old man jumped in.
"Ain't your name Blake?"
"Yes."
"Then are you..."
"Yes."
The old man popped up in his seat so fast one would have the impression he hadn't aged past thirty. "Thank you for all the company you've been. But now I have to turn you in."
The old man pulled off a mask to reveal a much younger man, somewhere in his 30's. He had dark blue hair, and blue eyes to match.
The girl stood up and backed away a few steps. "Uh, daddy?"
Blake turned to her, he saw it in her face. There was plenty of resemblance, not only did she have her father's dark eyes, but also his dark hair.
"Hey honey, sorry, but I have to take your boyfriend away. One, he's killed many people and two, he's a liar, saying he's the son of Vash."
Blake looked stunned. He knew Vash?
"Sir, I'm only telling you what Vash himself told me to say."
"Liar! Vash doesn't have a son, especially not the same age as my daughter."
"In all honesty sir, I am four years younger than your daughter."
The girl stamped her foot. "You told me you were 22! Now your telling me your only 16?!"
The officer used his fingers to count years. "Um, that, uh, checks out. But I still don't know. You look the same age as her."
"I never drank coffee, and I take after dad, being tall and all."
"You do look like him..."
"And why would I lie about something like this?"
"To make yourself look good by saying your dad is the legendary gunman."
"I could have said that my father was Knives. I would look like him too."
"How do you know about Knives?"
"He's my uncle." Blake smiled cutely, realizing he had already won the man over.
"Well then, Blake, my name is Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Pleasure to meet you, and this is my daughter, Kira, also your cousin."
Blake suddenly choked, he fell to his knees coughing harshly. Kira ran to the back of the tavern.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"How can you be my uncle? My dad's only brother is Knives..."
"My wife is a sister to Iris, your mother."
Oh boy.
Ok, finally, here is the first chapter of the source of pain! Hope you liked it! Keep your eyes open for more!