The Queen is held hostage and talks her way out of it.
The Queen is held hostage and talks her way out of it.
Prison inmates discuss why they are in there.
A cat Familiar tries to make a potion to bring back its owner.
Time stops forever
The woman spat blood to the floor, the tears now falling much heavier down her face. Her shoulders heaved once again as sobs shook her head and the creak of rope strained against her.
The blond man shook out his hand, hissing as he did.
“She’s got a tough face,” he noted to his black haired companion. The red head was now drooling pink spit falling to her blouse as she continued to sob.
“I don’t know what you want from me! I’m not Hiza.”
“Of course not,” the Black-Haired Man said, his voice dull and grey. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest, “hit her again,” he said in the same tone.
The Blond Man sighed as well but stepped towards the Red Head again.
She screamed, what little movement her legs had she used to try and push herself away from the two men. It didn’t work, and his fist fell with a dull thud. The Red Head sniffled.
“I’m not Hiza!”
“Do I even look like them!?”
The Blond Man joined his companion with his arms folded.
“Well famously no one knows what Hiza looks like.”
The Black-Haired Man let out a long sigh.
“Well why do you think I am them!?”
The two men looked at each other, at the sight of his partner’s arms the Black-Haired man shook his arms out.
“We have good information that you are Hiza.”
“No, I’m not I’m Caroline Hansen.”
The woman’s sobs became louder, crying into her chest. The two men stood frozen for a minute, making the woman rock in the chair, her sobs becoming screams.
“…As in Fredrick Hansen’s daughter?”
She sniffed, “you know my father? He’ll kill you when he finds out what you did to me? He’ll break every bone in your body! He’ll burn you alive.”
The men looked at each other for a long time.
“If he finds out,” the Blond Man repeated.
The Black Haired man nodded and drew his gun.
Samantha beamed at her groom though she wasn’t really paying him any attention. She was smiling for how perfect the day was going. Her train was being held by her beautiful niece and her dress were dazzling white. Her hair was curled, her makeup was flawless. Everything was prefect. Even the groom was, a twenty-five hunk with an oil baron father, days from dying. She smiled for the crowd who was simpering as the groom read his vows. She dabbed the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t listening to what he was saying but didn’t matter really. He just needed to say his and then she’d say hers and then they’d be flying to the Bahamas.
The church doors opened and at first Samantha paid no attention to the screams from the aisle, they had been very over dramatic all day. Only when the gunshots started did she scream herself, pushing the groom away as she dived. Everything happened in slow motion and Samantha was able to turn just in time to see her groom riddled with bullets, ruining his three-piece suit with his blood. She sobbed as the vicar fell gracelessly across him. She had been so close. The bullet storm still streamed overhead, but she could see the cloak room from where she was. If she could just crawl unnoticed to it…maybe she could see what the law said about marrying a dead man. She slipped when she took her first step, biting her red lipstick in pain. She turned over, her whiten dress was now stained by blood.
“Shit,” she hissed. The shooting had quietened though the screaming had not. Samantha held her blood stained dress and looked across at the groom. He wasn’t moving, deathly still. She sniffed and sobbed again. So close. Heavy footsteps approached her, and she groaned and rolled her eyes as the shooter came into view.
He was masked and held the gun to her head, still all she did was exasperatedly mutter, “You couldn’t have waited until he said I do.”
Helen hissed and raised her gun to the knight who was now standing opposite her. He was faceless, his helmet twisted and like the rest of his armour, it looked melded to his very skin. His sword was thin and poised in his left hand.
“This isn’t cornering you solider!”
He didn’t move, still ready to attack. Helen sighed and fired. The knight only left a cloud of dust in his place as he leapt over the yellow explosion left by the Magma powder. Her gun was slow to reload and the solider came down on her, sword raised. But the gun proved to be sturdy as well and as the man’s sword hurtled toward her, the flank of her gun came to meet it. The force behind the blade shot through her so powerfully, that once it racked its way out of her body it shattered the earth beneath her.
She groaned as the solider jumped away and stood with his back towards her, standing like a dancer, barely effected by the fight, while Helen stumbled.
The guard had made a good choice when choosing his God. Her legs shook, and her skin now felt like it was burning. Where was hers? Quiet as always.
She stood straight and cocked her gun again. She aimed and shot before the solider had turned around. The red shot of lightening scattered as it hit the blade now between it and its target. The sound of the clash reverberated through the small village and Helen was sent backwards by the force. She groaned again as the sand burnt her eyes and she spat it to the ground. By the time she looked up the knight was already over her, pressing his foot into her chest.
She huffed, “fine you win, happy?”
The helmeted man cocked his head, “who is your God?”
Helen raised her eyebrows: woman, helmeted woman. She was only baffled for a second before her gun was taken from her clutches by one of the townspeople and her hands were taken by another.
“Hey! Get off of that! I have no God! The weapon is just mine.”
The woman solider was unphased and stepped off her chest, allowing Helen to be taken.
“Mine is the God of Fire…you probably want to start using ice powders if you’re going to defeat me next time.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” Helen yelled as she was dragged away.
“I’m Helen, see you around Luc’.”
She broken out of cells before, she hoped this time was a little more eventful.
“Do I have to go to bed?” Sammy asked, as if he didn’t look like death walking.
He’d been complaining all day. Too hot, too cold. Starving and then violently throwing up. His face was still covered in dried tears and snot as his mother tried to wipe him down. He sniffled again, perhaps she’d rubbed too hard or perhaps twelve hours straight with no sleep wasn’t particularly good for a six-year-old.
“Because if you don’t the vampires will eat you.”
Sammy didn’t like listening to logic but throw in a vampire or two and he’d do whatever you told him. His mother knew him well. She picked him up, her legs shaking as she stood straight. Clearly twelve hours with no sleep wasn’t good for a thirty-year-old either. She felt just as sick, her skin was sweaty and soaked her hair.
The house had also been seen to by the ill child. Every room was a mess of either toys or dried vomit as Sammy had gone through each and every one, trying to find somewhere in the house that would magically make him feel better.
“But what if I’m sick again?” he whined, rubbing his runny nose on her dress.
“Then mummy will help you clean up.”
“What if I’m hungry?”
“Then I will make you a sandwich.”
“Will you be awake?”
She was falling asleep as she walked upstairs.
“Of course,” she said, convincingly enough for a small child to believe.
He buried his face into her shoulder.
“I’m sorry mummy. Do you still love me?”
“Of course,” she repeated. Well, maybe she could forgive him in a couple of years. After all she had twelve more years of this to come.
“Hey…Cissa, it’s me.”
“Oh, hi hun’…are you okay?”
“Umm…sure. How are you? How’s your day been?”
“It’s been fine, I haven’t done much, mostly slept. Baby kept me up in the night.”
“Aww…but what else? Ho have you been?”
“Honey…what’s that noise?”
“It’s nothing, just talk to me.”
“Dan, you’re scaring me.”
“I know Cissa, I’m so sorry. Please just talk to me.”
“Oh God Dan, what’s going on?”
“…I’m not going to be able to come home tonight. I’m so sorry.”
“Honey…I love you.”
“I know, I love you too so much. I wish I could see you again. And the baby-”
“Don’t think about that.”
“But I want to…they’re going to be the best child I could ever have had. Promise me, you’ll love them and cherish them, no matter what. And let them know…let them know I loved them.”
“What are we going to name them?”
“Oh, I’m sure You’ll think of something great.”
“I want us to decide that.”
“Wow you really want them to be picked last in the register.”
“…Cissa…I love you…so much.”
“I love you too. Honey I love you so much.”
“Yes, Mr President?”
“Why can’t they shoot laser?”
“Why can’t they shoot…well it was hard enough to get subjects who can control objects with their mind, telekinesis if you will-”
“I will not.”
“Okay then. But the genetic manipulation was beyond complicated and restricted given how secretive it must be…to repeat the process again with something that isn’t even feasible possible in human natural is-”
“Ah Bill! The twins have got me again!”
“Just stay calm, we don’t need another broken spine. Just remember your training.”
“…I’m sorry Racheal can you repeat that?”
“Why do the mutants have control over your lab assistant. Why isn’t she carrying a Taser?”
“Well can’t Taser the…mutants Mr President. Especially ones that can move objects with their mind, they’ll just take the Taser off her.”
“Which is why they need to shoot laser. They can’t disarm anyone if they have lasers.”
“Yes but…they’ll be able to shoot laser.”
“Exactly! I know I can rely on you Doctor.”
“…Yes, Mr President.”
“I think I’ll need a new lab assistant, Mr President.”