Fiction
Johnson. Content Warning.
Agent Johnson’s feet rhythmically pounded the pavement. She wouldn’t let him get away with this. Deep inside she knew this was the end of everything she knew, her job, her partner, the country she fought so hard for, she would have to run from it all but he had to pay. Her breath came in even, lean muscles burning with the exertion. Adrenaline blanking her mind as she saw his heel disappearing around the corner. She had caught up, he had to know. She slowed down and pulled her gun from its holster. Turning to clear the corner he slammed into her. Falling back to the concrete, her neck snapped back, her head slamming into the pavement. Stars blossomed across her vision. But Lissa trained this a million times and muscle has memory. Her arms went up to guard, her legs shifted underneath them, and she thrusted her hips up and sideways. Stryk was off balance, sliding sideways onto his shoulder. Her vision was still blurred, and she could taste the metallic tinge of blood in her mouth. She quickly rolled away from his body mass and gained her feet. But Stryk had seen where her gun had slid, and he didn’t waste time to gain his feet. He bear crawled and by the time her vision cleared, he was halfway there. She bolted toward him, the world moved in slow motion as his fingers gained the trigger. He rolled and she saw the barrel of the gun. She felt fire go through her shoulder as the bang thundered through her head. She stumbled and the second bang. It was like hot iron through her gut, that had turned into a fist as it blew out her back. As she collided with him, it was with minimal effort that he pushed her to the ground. He stood, staring down at her as blood pooled out onto the pavement. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was in shock. It didn’t hurt anymore but a bone chilling cold settled across her. He was talking but she couldn’t hear him. She tried to roll onto her hands and knees but crumpled into a fetal position. And her hands hit the cold metal handle on her thigh. She remembered the day Tim had given her the knife, 5 inches of 1095 steel sharpened to a razor edge, and they had joked. But she knew that day that she loved him. She knew and she would never be able to tell him. Stryk crouched over top of her, grabbing her left arm and pulling her up to stair in her face. Sound came rushing back, as he finished his rant, “Agent Johnson, you lose.” He grinned, and with every bit of adrenaline that still flooded her body, she slammed the knife hard into his neck. It entered in just to the side of his Adams apple. Continuing the motion, she slammed the handle backwards, so it pivoted in his neck. She knew she had succeeded when the arterial spray coated her hand. Severing both the carotid and jugular he would bleed out in seconds. His eyes were wide with shock. He fell away from her grabbing his throat. She turned away from him, lying back on the pavement. Sirens sounded, but she couldn’t tell how far away. The ground was slick with blood all around her and she was so cold. She didn’t know how many minutes past, but she could feel the foot falls on the ground, hear the rapid voices… and he found her.
By Maili Paul2 years ago in Chapters
Eye on Her – Chapter One
It was a dull evening, and no one was in the city. She was driving a vehicle after the party; she dropped every one of her companions and began music behind the scenes; her speed was higher than her typical speed; she crossed the distance of 5 km from the party setting; she saw one man before her vehicle, and he was going to fall in the event that she was unable to press the breaks of her vehicle. The hints of horns had not irritated the man, and she in a real sense might have hit him inside a negligible part of seconds.
By Shital Ajit Londhe2 years ago in Chapters
Nichole
She thought back to the waiting room. So long ago when she had made the decision to let death chase her. And chase it had, through the underground, through prophecy, through the wars, she watched the eastern coast burn as they ran. She ran, death at her heals… dancing with her… sometimes so close, it whispered in her ear. And now, it chased her across the water. She felt the ship sway and she starred back at the woman in the mirror. Her hair was streaked white, pulled back in the worn clip. She didn’t remember getting old, it just kind of happened. And just as she couldn’t see how incredibly gorgeous she was in her youth, she couldn’t see how distinguished she was in her age. She held the cloth to her mouth as she coughed. When she first got sick, she hid it well… But the cough became uncontrollable, and the rumors spread like the disease in her body. At least the black handkerchief hid the blood. She took a shuttering breath and turned on her heel. Long ago she shed the poised dresses for more practical clothing. If you plan to outrun death… Her tight black leggings hugged her still muscular legs. But her curves had been lost to the disease. She concealed the loose skin beneath a tunic of blood red and wore a slightly heeled leather boot. Her two guards flanked her as she exited her quarters. Her assistant sat with the wheelchair. She moved too slowly now, too unsteady on the rock of the ship to walk. They maneuvered through the narrow corridor and out onto the deck where the sun beat down mercilessly. She was greeted with the cheers that broke her heart and lifted her spirits. Here were her people, who loved her. Her people, who were half starved, beaten, but not broken. Here were her people she loved. The prophetess came and knelt before her. She raised her eyes to Nichole and gave her a tearful little smile. Nichole returned the smile. Brushing her hands across the young girl’s cheek. “None of that. Tomorrow, we land in the forgotten place and the people need you.”
By Maili Paul2 years ago in Chapters
The Wolves
There are things worse than wolves in those woods, trust me. When you hear their howl, run. Chief Ranger Talin’s warning echoed in her memory as Liv crawled on hands and knees through the undergrowth. Ahead of her, little Tivar crawled with the eagerness of a puppy. If her parents caught her out of bed and beyond the gates...That thought annoyed her even further. Her fourteenth harvest drew near, and yet they insisted on treating her like a child still.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Chapters
Snow Humps, continued. Content Warning.
The last thing I remembered was trying to open my eyes and imagining the Buzzard pecking at me and tugging me while staring me down with his beady eyes. I slapped at him, trying to shoo him away, but he was persistent, yanking and pulling at me, lifting me out of the snow drift with his tremendous strength.
By Tina D'Angelo2 years ago in Chapters
Snowhumps continued
The last thing I remember was falling asleep in a soft, white cloud. It was so cozy and warm, I didn't want to move. When I awoke, I saw the Buzzard circling above me, gazing coldly down at me with his beady eyes; plucking and pulling at me, ripping me out of my slumber with persistent attacks.
By Tina D'Angelo2 years ago in Chapters
