The Swift Darkness
Prologue
Ernie was pissed.
He ran blindly down the steps of his flat. The toddler three doors down from him had left a jumble of toys near the top of the second flight, and Ernie tripped over one of these. While he tumbled down the steps, he heard something snap, and felt a white-hot pain in his left leg as if in response. He slammed into the landing, moaned once, and was back on his feet. The adrenaline coursing through his body damped the pain a little, but there was only so much it could do for a leg broken cleanly in three places.
He tumbled again, and he struggled up, unaware that he was sobbing like a small child. The only thing he knew was he had to get away
The Secrecy Sensors went off at around 2:15. Ernie had been on his feet in an instant, wand out, and ready to blow the first thing he saw twenty feet back the way it had came. He wasn't disappointed. The door to his room was blasted to so many splinters, and two figures charged through the dust.
"Avada Kedavra, Punctio!" Ernie's curses struck one dead in an instant and blew a six inch wide hole in the chest of the other. The Silencing Charm on his flat muffled person number two's gurgling scream.
He rolled shoulder first into the hallway, and spotted another of the dark clad men.
"Stupefy" the bolt of red light flew over the man's left shoulder, he flinched then snapped up a bullpup-configured assault rifle.
"Reducto,"Ernie cried, and a rather disgusting mixture of blood, brain matter, and bits of bone sprayed out the back of the man's head, escorted by chunks his face and mask. His dying finger squeezed the trigger, and the bullpup's roar filled the corridor, dissolving picture frames depicting him and Hannah ('Thank God she was visiting her aunt.').
He tried to slip quietly to the back door, and his efforts were met with another spray of full auto hell. This time one blew the nightcap clean off his head before a pair of Puncturing Curses tore gaping holes in the chest of his would-be killer. As he crept back into the hallway he heard a dull thump, then a giant hand of heat shoved hard into Ernie's back, throwing him five feet down the hall.
He turned around and saw a raging fire where his bedroom once was, then quickly got back up on his feet. Ernie sprinted into the kitchen and over to the fireplace. He threw a handfull of red powder into the fire, then grabbed the .357 six-shooter out of the drawer where it had been collecting dust. The weapon was almost immediately put to use as he crept into the living room and found 4 of the men waiting for him.
They opened up on him the second they saw him, the staccato barks of the automatic rifles they carried was deafening. Chunks of upholstery, plaster, wood, and glass flew everywhere as the combined fire shredded everything in Ernie's general area. Ernie turned around the corner, wand in on hand, revolver in the other. He emptied all six shells and fired off four Killing Curses. No one so much as twitched, besides Ernie. He strode quickly to the door, taking care to step on one of the people's head.
Ernie staggered as fast as he could to the parking lot, firing at the shadows that moved in between the trees, once hitting one and getting a satisfactory scream. He wrenched open the '98 Ford Escort's door, and hauled his mangled leg inside. He slammed the key into the ignition and jerked it forward. The engine turned over once and died with a sputter. Shocked, Ernie took out his wand and prodded the instrument panel with it. Nothing happened, so he started frantically bashing the dashboard, and after about three hits, the wand broke in two.
Ernie bellowed in frustration and hurled his wrecked wand into the backseat and tried to crank the Escort again, but didn't get a chance. His hand was in mid-flight to the ignition when fourteen 9mm rounds tore into the shiny new car, one hitting Ernie just above the elbow, another tearing a inch wide chunk of flesh out of his right shoulder. He screamed in pain as blood repainted the US-made interior a gleaming crimson.
He jerked open the door with a shaking, blood coated hand, and flopped onto the pavement like a beached whale. He found out after a few seconds that he couldn't walk period. So he did a half crawl, half slither to the sidewalk near by. As he lay there he could hear footsteps approaching, he tried to sit up but just didn't have the strength. He lifted his head high enough to see a pair of polished black combat boots, noticing that they were tied kind of funny, with big loops and small strings, before two pairs of hands forcefully picked him up so that he was resting on his knees.
When his view came into focus, he found that he was staring into a small black tunnel. He wondered briefly where this tunnel led. It turned out to be his last thought.
Sgt. William David Barnes, UNSCF, pulled the trigger and blew Ernie Macmillan's wetware onto the sidewalk. They left the body there when they went back to the van two blocks away.
Hannah emerged from the bathroom half a world away and dripping wet. There had only been one towel in the linen closet and she needed one for her sopping mane of golden hair. Her toes squelched on the hardwood floors, making the sound you hear when you squeeze a glob of silly putty. Her parent's bathroom had plenty of the thick, fluffy towels Hannah loved so much, so she headed towards the door at the end of the hall.
When she was about to open the door she heard something. A mixture of shuffling sounds and labored breathing. She instantly turned red and leapt back from the door as if it had been electrocuted. 'Please tell me that's not what I think it is' Hannah thought. Then the sounds inside of the room changed. Heavy footfalls approached the door, and someone almost in front of it started to whimper. Curious, Hannah lingered a moment longer. In that moment everything went wrong.
There came the sound of something heavy being dragged, and then the person who was whimpering started to whimper. The footfalls got closer to the door, and Hannah backed up a step. It turned out to be a smart move as a sixteen inch long knife impaled the heavy oak door, spraying blood all over her recently vacated position. Hannah and her mother gave a cry of shock (and in her mothers case, pain too) as the knife dripped Hope Abbott's blood onto the floor.
Hannah stumbled backward and landed hard on her rear, although she didn't notice it. From inside the room a harsh voice shouted "Avada Kedavra!" and the door was outlined in a sick green light. Her father bellowed something, but was cut of in mid-sentence by a thunderous pistol shot. Hannah heard the sound of his body hitting the floor. She held her hand up to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs racking her body. The doorknob glowed yellow as someone within the room said "Alohomora". The knob turned and the door creaked slowly open.
Framed in the doorway was a man a little over six feet tall, wearing a cross between wizard's robes and an army uniform, as well as a large handgun on his side. He held a wand in his hand. The tip was smoking ever so faintly from the force of the Killing Curse that had ripped the life from Hannah's mother. He looked in surprise at her, but that look was soon replaced by a look of hunger as his eyes roved down her partially exposed body (the towel had slipped when she fell.
Hannah made to reach for her wand, then realized with wide eyes that she had left it on the bathroom counter. She looked up at the man, terrified, for a few seconds then scrambled up and tried to run. She knew it was pointless even before she heard the Leg-Locker incantation. Her chin hit the floor so forcefully that she felt some of her teeth crack, and she cried out in pain and terror. He stepped over her and cast a Binding Charm on her then silently cast a levitation spell on her and floated her into her parents bedroom, where the man's two comrades waited with wicked grins. The cords that (almost) covered her whole body muffled her screams. She felt the cords on her lower body vanish. She looked up at the ceiling, knowing what was coming.
Early the next morning, while Harry Potter was getting ready to be awakened to one of the most stressful days of his life. Hannah Marie Abbott's naked, lifeless body was hurled from a chopper high above London, to land with a meaty splat in Diagon Alley, right in front of Gringott's. The message had been sent.
Write a review and tell me what you think.
I hope to actually finish this story, as the idea has been mulling around in my head for a while now. I really could use the free space. Drew