The Standoff

A moment passed without any hint of movement outside of the uncontrolled trembling of his rifle. The only source of light into this room came from behind her frozen silhouette standing in the gaping hole in the wall. Her hair gently lifted into the air by a small gust of wind, for a moment hiding the horns that gave her such a frightful appearance.

He felt no enmity from her, yet he felt no sympathy either.

Her stance was low and agile. The moment he fired she would be somewhere else, though with his trembling even if she stood still he was likely to miss. Training having long since fled his ailing body.

As his eyes adjusted to the light he could see the room around him more clearly. Looking for an advantage over the woman, he glanced around the room without looking away from her.

Various weapons were lined up neatly along wall mounts except for those so unceremoniously strewn across the ground from his destructive entrance. Amongst the weapons were mostly various pole arms and swords with a few axes and hammers thrown in for good measure. Falling in through the walls of an armoury was hardly a fitting escape but then again he hadn’t been in a position to choose.

Due to their precious contents the walls were built thickly, made from wooden boards coated with a slightly different clay to that used in the shanty houses he’d come across earlier. Which explained why the pain in his shoulder was so intense, it was a surprise he’d even broken through, but perhaps his lower body armour was to thank for that.

Though that same armour had seen its last days, no longer giving him any boosted strength. Its metal plates melted down beyond repair, weighed almost as much as Matheson himself.

Having discovered nothing of use he finally looked upon the woman standing amidst the debris of the caved in wall. Her figure appeared short and frail but she stood with an intensity to rival the most fearsome of mythical gods, the horns rising from her very skull seemed as natural on her as the fur upon a wolf’s back.

The armour plating seemed as part of her skin it was so well fitted, coloured with a black that was a far cry from the armour he’d worn. It wasn’t nearly so completely dark as his own, still reflecting what little light was shining into the room but in a way that twisted the light strangely, unsettling to his eyes.

Where her pale skin was exposed to the light, dark lines stirred as if filled with life, shifting and flowing across her body like gentle waves in a pool of water. It threatened to enchant him in its seductive motion if it weren’t for her eyes demanding his attention.

The red light in her eyes was filled with alien power, stealing his attention and locking him in place. There was no anger to her expression or buried in those frightening eyes, in fact he could see nothing at all in her demonic eyes. A terrifying lack of emotion that made him want to run away and never look back.

But that plan had already failed.

Finally his eyes broke away and looked down at the sword pointed at his chest. The sight drying his mouth. The design lacked a handguard and the shape itself was hard to see clearly, since every time his eyes looked down at it they dragged themselves away.

From what he could tell, it looked like it was made from the same metal as her armour, but slightly different; as if it were more pure. The light reflected from it at impossible angles in fiery reds and oranges, as if it were somehow reflecting the fires of hell.

A cursed blade carried by a woman with the appearance of a demon. Locking eyes with the woman again, he knew that she was prepared to kill him. The thought of her doing it somehow more frightening than death itself.

His finger rested on the trigger twitching lightly, unsure as to whether or not to fire. Cornered and threatened with sword, all signs screamed for him to fire away but his finger was stopped short. Her face still looked like that of a woman; a young woman barely out of her teens. There was a certain innocence to that face which struck him.

Something deep inside struggled against his training, even at threat to his own life. Cornered, exhausted, and on the brink of death, his true nature slipped through as his finger slid from the trigger. Rifle still trained on her but now only an empty threat.

That strange breeze that passed through his mind seemed to strike again, ceasing all thought of fight or flight. His body locking up, as if paralysed. Thoughts froze halfway through his mind, as movement stirred ahead.

The rifle in his hands trembling even greater now that he lost control; it was still aimed towards target but without any reliability. Worse still his trigger finger refused to move, tears formed in his eyes but he couldn’t blink them away. Slowly he was losing balance about to fall on his side, but still his body refused to obey his flustered commands.

Her demonic figure strode forwards sword gently lowering with the confidence of a predator before her half dead prey. Tears streamed gently down his eyes, not out of grief but pure terror. Her eyes were shining red with something purely out of this world, or perhaps it was truly part of this world and he was merely ignorant of the fact.

She drew nearer, hand outstretched as if to tear away the rifle from his hands and make him truly defenceless. As her fingers gently caressed the barrel, words once again flowed into his mind, separate to the wind that made his mind ache. These words were his persistent companions flooding him with crippling guilt. The powerful emotions, forcing motion into his cold and broken body.

The sound of the rifle firing drowned out his hearing as it echoed in the hollow room. The bullets path flying past the young woman’s face leaving a bloody mark along her upper cheek before tearing a hole through the ceiling. She did not flinch, not at the pain nor the sound, nor the closeness of her death.

The shine in her eyes was still bright, though now her face was filled with a strange sense of curiosity as she backed away a pace. Her hand releasing his rifle which in turn fell to the ground while his own hands released the weapon in a panic.

As blood ran down her neck he felt the guilt inside growing brighter, the burn in his soul causing acid to rise to his throat. He couldn’t recall whether or not he chose to pull the trigger. Was it just a knee jerk reaction or did he actually, for a moment, want her dead?

Why was it so bad if he wanted her dead anyway? It wasn’t the first time he’d killed today. The image of the man from earlier stained itself into his mind as he thought of the fact. Though he overlooked it in his panic and training at the time, now the images seemed grotesque and horrifying. He looked down at his mud covered hands expecting to see blood.

Meanwhile his legs kicked wildly at the ground throwing him backwards until his body was firmly pushed against the wall. The quaking of his body so intense as to drive him to near convulsions while the woman stood tall over his rifle, unfazed by the sight of her own blood.

The offending item lying between them as if a barrier forged from blood and steel. His fallen composure recovered slightly due to her stillness and her now sheathed sword, more importantly though was the lack of red in her eyes.

The red sheen that had stilled his heart earlier was now completely gone replaced by a deep violet. Perhaps she wasn’t going to do him harm, the thought flowed into his mind so naturally and yet it didn’t feel like his own.

The strange sensation flowing through his mind was fading into the background of his senses but didn’t falter. Perhaps he was going mad, something in the air, or the pollen of some plant, causing him to hallucinate the sensation. Or perhaps it was something more sinister. Hands still shaking even though his heart had regained a calm pace he started to crawl forwards, reaching for the rifle lying between them.

The drumbeat sound of boots in water sent a chill down his spine, while gruff sounding men called out to one another just beyond the woman standing over him. Although her eyes didn’t break from his own there was now a sense of distance to her, as she stepped more directly between him and the ‘door’ where the sounds were coming from.

The sounds of armour shuffling and swords being drawn resonated around the room as a group of guards filled the break in the wall armed with half a dozen crossbows and swords, ready to strike. Fear glistened in their eyes alongside hatred, the same dangerous combination that made a man unpredictable.

Matheson’s eyes were focused on the strange woman as he felt a wave of calmness wash over his mind; if anyone here was messing with his head it would be her. The strange presence he felt in his mind was soothing but painful, he wanted to throw down all of his guns and cradle his head at the same time. Instead he forced his arm out towards the fallen rifle.

Her eyes showed no hint of fear, nor even anger but he sensed something more… simple. Disapproval, the way she looked down upon him made him feel like a child brought before an elder for breaking the rules.

The guards were chatting, loudly, probably telling the woman to move aside, but she didn’t respond. There was an uneasiness about the group, their weapons were levelled but they weren’t nearly so well trained as his unit had been. Constantly shifting their feet and looking at one another as if waiting for someone else to make the first move, while their officer was yelling at the strange woman.

She gave Matheson a brief sneer for a moment as her eyes flashed red, forcing him to freeze in place before she closed her demonic eyes. The lines along her body shifted and moved, their colours changing into a dark green as they gathered tightly at her arms while only sparse across the rest of her body. When she opened her eyes again he was still in the same position, reaching out for the rifle but unmoving.

As his eyes traced back to hers, he heard a snap from where the guards stood, immediately he guessed that it was a crossbow. He’d been trained to recognise the sound before leaving on this mission.

Surprisingly there was no new pain springing forth from his body. His eyes were still locked in a mental battle with the demon woman, and he dare not look away. The red shine had returned to her eyes but this time, it didn’t feel like it was meant for him.

Losing heart he glanced away, looking towards where her hand was outstretched holding onto a thick wooden bolt in a firm grip. The feathers lining the back still quivering from the sudden forces of being fired and then caught mid-air. From the trajectory he could guess that it was on path to hit him should she have been absent from the room.

The thought sent a shock through his nervous system and for a brief moment he couldn’t feel his legs.

The green lines gathered at the hand holding the bolt seemed to glow, releasing a faint green mist into the air as she let out a low growl. The bolt shattered in her fist, but she still didn’t turn her eyes from him just yet. He could feel that wind in his mind again, flowing faster and harsher than earlier, as she stared at him for a while longer. She grunted in satisfaction when he leaned back away from the rifle, before turning to face the guards at the door.

Now with a brief respite, and without her intense glare, he finally had the opportunity to see what she was more clearly. As she turned towards the men, her motions were slow and definite, like she had been earlier towards him. Now though, he was able to reason why, if she moved any quicker with her appearance, they’d undoubtedly attack in a panic but with the way she moved he was betting they could hardly even breathe right now.

He looked up towards the first strange thing he’d noticed about the woman; the strange bone like growths out of her skull. The horns on her head were indeed the real thing, whatever that was exactly, but without her wearing a helmet he had to assume that they were a part of her body. Grotesque as they are, they only seemed to be around the length of a little finger, still long enough to poke free from her dark silver hair.

Her hair was dark by most standards but was reflective in such a way that it earned the name silver in his mind, reaching down to her mid back flowing freely. Her hair rather than being perfectly straight curled slightly bouncing with her movements and waving gently as tugged by a breeze. He’d never before seen hair grown so long; as a child occasionally some of the others would wear their hair down to their shoulders but never any longer than that. After that the military enforced a short cut for everyone.

The patterns adorning her skin were not the same as he’d thought he’d seen just moments ago, they stood out sharply in a deep black and were spread out across her body in a static print, as was natural. The gentle swirls scattered seeming randomly across her exposed skin before ending sharply and unexpectedly in harsh cuts and peaks. There was a pattern to it that seemed to escape the eye whenever he was close to understanding it. The visage both beautiful and obscene to the eye.

Her armour remaining silent even with her exaggerated motion. The metal plates were not small, in some places it seemed to be up to an inch deep but strangely she didn’t seem to be affected by its weight.

It was soon apparent that although it was beautifully smithed it was still only armour and he found himself thankful for that. Considering her other qualities he didn’t think it completely impossible that the plates were directly joined to her flesh. The thought sending shivers through his mind, such a creature born with steel plates attached, would not be friendly.

Though he could make out various straps holding the armour in place, strangely he couldn’t see any actual underclothes. Though it was hardly indecent by any measure, it did leave openings for her strange skin condition to be visible.

Compared to her the guards were pathetic, armed with slightly rusted steel swords and crossbows made from badly weathered wood was only the beginning of their deplorable state. Their armour was mismatched, made of a variety of metals and leathers, all in completely different designs, half-heartedly painted with the same insignia and colours.

As the strange woman spoke with the guards Matheson shuffled back into a more comfortable position trying to take count of his injuries. The blood flowing from his head had apparently been stifled momentarily but that cut was replaced by another on his forehead, which he’d earned from diving through the window earlier.

That was nothing though compared to the multiple knocks he’d taken to the head today. If he ever gets back to his squad and back home to his world, the doctors there are probably going to take brain scans just to make sure he didn’t manage to do any real damage. At the moment he was having trouble telling illusion from reality when it came to what was going on inside his skull, perhaps some of the strange things going on in his head was from the concussions.

Taking a peak beneath his jumpsuit Matheson received a look at the massive purple and yellow blend that was the front of his chest, his shoulder wasn’t any better either. The pain in his hip presently indicated that they weren’t the only bruises he’d suffered today. He was just hoping that the internal bleeding wouldn’t develop into anything life threatening just yet.

Trying to take his attention away from his injuries he allowed his dazed mind to follow the conversation flowing in the sweet sound of an alien tongue. The words which she spoke were foreign but he was already starting to get some feel for the sounds. It was sharp and clipped, though perhaps he thought, it may have to do with what she was saying in particular rather than a reflection of the language as a whole.

Although it made no sense at all to him he filled the words in with replacements of his own imagining.

“Perhaps you would do better with your cross should it not be fired with me standing before you.” For some reason her voice in his mind was filled with attitude, perhaps it was something to do with her stance or the terror in the soldiers eyes.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be protecting that monster! He killed half our army and we finally see his face and you stand there protecting him!?” The man, obviously their leader, pointed his crossbow in Matheson’s direction only to have it split in the blink of an eye. He didn’t even see the blade drawn or sheathed, the only sign that it was her came from the hand moving from her sword; both hand and sword lit up in an unnatural green light.

Her skin shifted again turning a deep purple with sharp lines, mostly focused along her arm, as it rested on the man’s shoulder. Her face leaned in close to him whispering a few words in his ear as the confidence fell from his face. Matheson noticed a stain growing from the groin of the man’s pants.

Taking a step back she looked over the men, her stance asking them to try something.

“He had his weapon pointed at us, he was going to kill us like he did the others.” The man’s hands gestured enthusiastically towards where Matheson now cowered. “The man needs to die before he decides to kill us all!”

“I am the one who decides the people who are to live and die, you will stay silent like the filthy wretch you are.” Even with the many men standing before her, the words leaving her mouth seemed confrontational as they clutched at their weapons with white knuckle grips. Not a hint of worry resonated from her, and even Matheson could tell that she could handle them all with only a moment and a short blade.

“Turn and leave, you no longer have any business here Demon. This man has committed murder and will be tried by the magistrates of this city. Should he resist us though, he mightn’t make it so far.” The lethality in the man’s eyes were not as make believe as the words written in Matheson’s mind. Though the front of bravery was easily overwhelmed by the stain in his pants and quivering of his freshly drawn sword.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“You are wrong there, worm. This man has committed personal crime against me and mine and will be seen to proper punishment at my hands and not your own.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword again, releasing gentle green light as the men took a step back.

“The king will not stand for this.” The man in charge of their small troop took stand, sheathing his sword and staring into her eyes for a few moments before and striding away.

The woman spat words quietly to herself briefly as their turned backs disappeared, the colour of her skin returning to a contrasting black on white. Irritation still evident in her motions, she turned back to Matheson sending a spike of terror through his heart.

The intensity fading from her eyes as they looked over him. She wasn’t nearly as on edge as she was before but neither was she completely friendly; it was more like she didn’t think of him as a threat anymore.

Even so the air chilled around him, as her eyes chased his. As unthreatening as she was right now her eyes were still burning brightly with a passion, threatening to shatter the remains of his composure. A film of sweat formed as her feet started moving forward, his hands clawing for something, anything, which would protect him from that gaze.

Fumbling with fingers that fought against paralysation they quickly encompassed the sidearm hidden at its holster on his right leg. Drawing the gun after multiple failed attempts, he pointed it at the young woman finger resting gently against the trigger.

She didn’t stop moving, her intense stare only growing more heated, offended even as he continued to point the gun at her.

The pressure within his head grew more painful until he found it hard to even think. A rushing wind quickly grown into a tempest washing away his thoughts as he tried to compose them.

Her intimidating presence growing closer had him trying to push himself through the wall, but was yet to draw her sword. Although she strode with purpose he couldn’t assume it was to have him dead just yet. Regardless the thought of her sword splitting the crossbow in two sent shivers down his spine.

Her hands held by her side didn’t make a move for her weapon and even though she was advancing, her motions were slow and careful, definite and unstoppable. She paused standing over him, not with a look of fear, as would be a natural respect for his weapon. Not with a look of disgust as was appropriate considering his current appearance.

Her face may have looked deadpan to him but for a brief moment he seemed to notice concern flashing into her eyes. Perhaps the look one might give to a pitiful creature trying its best to survive. It was only for a moment before they regained their heat.

His pistol still unsteadily aimed at her, she knelt down to the fallen rifle, hand gently touching the barrel. Terror ran through him as he imagined her armed with a rifle; combined with her strange abilities she might just be more powerful than a fully kitted soldier. The thought terrified him.

Inspired into action, he reached out to the weapon trying to pull it out of her reach with as much speed as he could muster while his pistol was still pointed her direction to stop her from intervening.

As he pounced for the dropped rifle so did she, her hand reaching out and snatching his wrist an inch short of the weapon. Her tight grip restraining him even with the amount of strength he’d put into the motion. Pulling his hand back instinctively a deep panic took over his body, yanking repeatedly against her strength but she refused to allow him to move.

Her hand tightened in place around his wrist forcing him to notice the heat burning his skin, not quite enough to cause him pain but so much that it was uncomfortable. He looked up from the weapon on the ground to find her eyes digging into his own, eyes filled with a power that reached into him.

The howling winds in his mind stilled, calmed as he was forced to give himself over to them. Like giving up the fight against a waters current and letting it take control.

The pistol still gripped firmly in his other hand was pointed straight for her head but as his finger set upon the trigger he lost control of his own body and mind. Images and sounds formed together but not quite flowing as smoothly as they should.

He watched as his finger drew back on the trigger and the hammer snapped down. Still he watched without feeling anything but warmth on his wrist as the bullet flew through the air, the recoil kicking his hand back only slightly before firing again.

Both bullets traced a path straight for flesh. His guts trembled and heart ached as he saw flesh part for metal bullets, showering the room in gore. Blood splashing onto him as her body fell into his arms. Her face a mosaic of pain and suffering, lips moving to form words he’d never recognise as her life faded away.

The scene playing in his mind ended sharply, returning him to his senses in what he guessed was reality. His hesitation gave her a moment, she reached out for his remaining pistol as time seemed to slow. He pulled it back, not willing to let her take his last piece of protection away. She was fast, unnaturally fast as her skin started changing and yet too slow to stop him.

She fell on top of him while reaching for the gun crushing his leg with the weight of her armour, her face only a foot away from his when the pistol rose into place; targeting not her but his own temple as his finger went for the trigger. Her calm collected expression broke then, infused with shock as the hammer started to fall.

“Save them”

He felt regret for a moment, as he considered his failures. He wouldn’t be able to save anyone, especially since he couldn’t even save himself. Picturing her face, he finally felt calm; finally felt at peace.

His wrist twisted away painfully as the sound of gunfire deafened his ear. Fresh blood poured from the second wound to his scalp, the bullet meant to end his life having only grazed his flesh. Though strangely, his wrist was now broken, leaking blood from where bone parted the skin.

Looking down at himself the world slowed to a pause.

The air stilled in his lungs.

The blood stopped flowing from the wounds scattering his body, and all sensation across his skin become static, his next heart beat seemed fated never to arrive as the image of her eyes become printed within his own.

Memories ran through his mind without his consent, rising from the dark depths where he’d long since buried them. It was an experience he’d never known before, it wasn’t like when a tired mind wondered. This was different; as if every part of him were being sifted through at the will of another.

****

“What happened to Harry?”

The eyes of elder Nana fell upon him as his loose lips released the stray thought.

“He became an adult. Now he’s serving his part in the workforce, keeping society running, and everyone fed.”

“Will we ever see him again?”

“Oh dear boy, this world is bigger than you can imagine with more people living here than you could ever count. There is a chance you’ll see him again when you join the workforce yourself but it’s not likely.”

“Can’t he just come back here?” Emotions welled up inside as he made childish demands.

“Ah child, of course not. This is a place for children it’ll be the same when you grow up and say goodbye to everyone.”

“I don’t want to grow up!”

The old woman let out a small giggle, “That’s what everyone says at your age, when you grow up and make new friends you’ll understand.”

****

He didn’t understand. He didn’t make new friends. An alien world was spinning around in his watering eyes; nothing made any sense, except for the fact that all of his friends were gone forever.

****

“The first thing you will learn here is that life is not easy! Pain, Suffering, and Grief may come new to you but it is something for which you will become accustomed.”

Matt stood in line listening to the yelling of their lieutenant, everyone else in line was twitching and quivering. It was the first time most of them had been yelled at, and they were all frightened as hell.

Not Matt though, his eyes still staring into the distance. At the time he thought that he’d already survived worse, he thought that this would come easy.

“We serve to protect our people from those that would have them hurt by the hands of chaos. We serve to protect humanity itself from the hands of those who would see it come to an end.”

The Lieutenant stopped pacing in in front of Matt, turning to face the one man who foolishly stood with some confidence.

“What’s your name recruit?”

“Matheson, sir. Roderick Matheson.” His reply was clear but his tone of voice was relaxed, as his mind drifted elsewhere.

“Do you think this is going to be easy?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why aren’t you quivering with the rest of these men?! Anyone who really understands what you’re going to go through would be pissing themselves right now!”

“Since when did fear make anything easier…… Sir.”

“Fear would keep you alive better than 15 inches of hardened steel soldier. You better learn how to be afraid or you are going to die and bring someone down with you.”

Matt’s eye twitched but he stayed silent.

****

“Why couldn’t I have just stayed like that?” He spoke words that made no sense to anyone but him. Inside he felt something rising to the surface, memories he’d buried so deep that he couldn’t even remember why. He pressed his free hand tightly to his heart as a cold chill ran through his blood.

****

Water dripped from cold lifeless lips as words echoed in his mind, “Save them. Save them. Save them.” He let warm tears fall onto her cold flesh, as water gently numbed his pain away.

Clutching at the body of a girl, an emerald hair pin still neatly holding back her hair but no longer sparkling as it once had. They drifted listlessly down the mountain river surrounded by uprooted trees and drowning animals.

****

His eyes opened though he hadn’t noticed them close. His heart was no longer stricken with fear but now embraced by something colder, like he’d been flushed through with ice cold waters.

She no longer looked into his eyes as she turned away, her body language showing disinterest in him as the pistol he’d been holding fell alongside his rifle.

Her footsteps faded but he didn’t look up, eyes staring beyond the weapons lying on the floor into the distant past that he was trying to rebury. When he finally did lookup she was long gone, leaving him completely alone in the darkening room.

This was the first time in many years that he’d truly been alone, since then always there’d been someone nearby. The feeling even more oppressive than that of her alien demeanour or her forcefulness. Even the presence of the soldiers that wanted him dead would suffice to bring life back to the room.

Cold rain was wetting the soil outside and beating down upon the roof, the sunlight that had been dawning now masked in the shadows of clouds. Chill moisture was already flooding the room, and flavouring the air. Hands shaking but not from the cold, he reached for the pistol with his left hand.

Nothing stopped him, no one yelled or even slapped his hand away as he gripped it too tightly. The grip was designed for right handed use and felt uncomfortable to hold, and even more so when he tried to put it back into the holster on his right leg.

Even with the weapon back in its place he felt no safer. It was a false safety born from the strength of a weapon that he was apparently incapable of using properly. He couldn’t kill her because of a weak heart and he couldn’t even manage to kill himself to escape from her grasp.

He was dead already if she had wanted it, his very survival was because of her leniency. Or perhaps it was her confidence, as he was yet to leave this place and she may still be nearby waiting for him to get up and try to leave.

Looking down at his broken wrist he wondered whether it was her doing also. Strange things were happening in this world and right now he couldn’t even guess as to why his suicide attempt had failed. With an audible sigh of resignation he lowered his wrist unable to do anything about it right now.

The multiple pains covering his body hadn’t lessened and his mind was still drifting closer to passing out with every moment he stood around, but he wasn’t getting any healthier. Considering making another run for the gates, or stumble as would be the case, he leans down to pick up the rifle; again with his left hand. After a few moments of messing with holds he was finally satisfied with holding the pistol grip with his left hand and resting the barrel of the rifle on his right arm.

Accuracy would be horrible if he had to fire but setting it to automatic should help scare off any idiots prepared to take him on.

Having done what little he could to prepare for what was ahead, he paused briefly, trying to forget the overwhelming loneliness of being stuck here. No one in this world could understand a word of his language and he couldn’t understand theirs.

He was alone. Truly alone.

Not just the only one in the room but he couldn’t even hear the sounds of another human being. The sound of breathing, the subtle sounds of heartbeats, the soft warmth of another life nearby. All of it was missing.

Only the cold beating of rain on the roof and the sensation of a cool wet breeze washing over his sweat covered body. The sound of his own rapid breathing getting louder the longer he stood there hesitating. He’d give anything just for a working radio right now so that he could at least hear someone else’s voice.

His breathing became more rapid as he lost control, his mind unable to cope with everything and nothing. Losing his composure he stepped forwards about to run out into the beating rain in search of someone, anyone. He was halted from further breakdown by wet footsteps coming his direction, soothing his ailing heart while bringing back a different kind of anxiety.

The young woman walked back into the room followed by another. The second woman was of a kind with the first, horns rising from beneath pale hair and a sword just as wicked in shape. She stood taller by a few inches and her natural skin colour was a few shades darker, but was still covered in a similar strange pattern.

They spoke words at him, but the language was unfit for his hearing. Her eyes were soothing to look into at first glance but a sudden attack to his mind sent all thoughts of calmness out the window.

The pain in his head that had faded when the first girl left was now back more powerful than ever before, the language only serving to aggravate his mind as it writhed in pain. Focusing all his strength on just keeping on two feet, the rifle slipped from his hands.

He was almost begging for the pain to stop now, but couldn’t even speak the words in a language that they’d understand. When he met the eyes of the first young woman, she looked away.

“Please” The sound soft and gentle resonating through his mind.

The word spoken aloud made no sense at all but the idea of the word seemed to flow through to him. A deep breathe only served to steady his mind for a moment as he struggled to understand what he was hearing. Focussing for all he was worth, he noticed two distinct patterns of pain flowing through his mind.

One agonizingly aggressive with which he wasn’t familiar and then the one he’d been experiencing all morning. Feeling as if he’d come to some great discovery he looked up from the dirty floorboards, only to see the second woman was standing right on top of him.

Her eyes filled with… a calm aura. The shapes on her arm turning purple and gathering at her fingertips, the intensity of its colour growing into a small torch just before she reached out to him. With one finger she tapped his forehead lightly, blinding him with that deep purple light which drowned out his vision before spreading through his other senses.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.