City of IF

[sheik]

The Glass Wall

Scene: Back alleyways of the shopping district.

Three gang bangers, one cop. The youths surround the sheriff, whose personal trauma has given him wisdom far beyond his age. They strike at once, he moves with preternatural speed ducking and weaving. Frustrated the juveniles lash out again this time with crude weapons, two-by-fours and lead pipes. Again the dance begins, furious and chaotic; the sheriff strikes swiftly catching a juiced teen on the throat with a practiced chop, then turning and breaking another's nose with a fierce snap kick.

Screaming like a banshee the largest, a Tejanan brute weighing in at a massive 300 pounds charged wielding a titanium bat. Hoping to catch him with a spinning back-fist the Constable whirls around only to receive a mighty blow across the temple. He is thrown from his feet and sent skidding deeper into the alley. The wounded warriors rise to their feet sensing victory, the civil servant scrambles to his feet searching for a weapon. A bottle, two trashcans, nothing definite; he swears underneath his breath as he hurls the silver trash receptacle at the nearest menace.

Giggling, the younger chap easily evades the putrid missile. He brandishes his weapon of choice, a large carbonite serrated hunting knife, hopping onto an abandoned apple crate. He waves about the blade yelling in his foreign tongue. What he said is anyone's guess but whatever it was, it seemed to inspire new life into the smaller gangsters. Two charged ahead of the Tejanan wielding lead pipes, one fell back as he was struck by a flying trash can lid, the other ignored the state of his ally and continued his suicide mission. The officer easily sidestepped the youth's wild attack and returned the favor with a powerful series of knees to the gut before hurling him backward and sending him sliding underneath the giant's feet. The effect it garnered was not one he expected. Instead of tripping the burly leader all it did was send him stumbling back a few feet, blocking his only avenue of escape.

Damn. You've done it now, two left and only one way out. An idea comes to him, his hand drifts to his waist. The giant's eyes widen in recognition, he screams and rushes forward with a mad glint in his eye. Above him the knife fighter leaps from his apple scented perch and plunges his blade into the officer's shoulder. Falling backward he rolls and mounts the street urchin, choking him by pressing his knees into his throat and restraining his knife hand with his forearm. Looking up he snatches his pistol out of his holster and faces the hulking behemoth with weapon drawn. Two shots ring out, all is still, even the wriggling mass underneath him has ceased his struggle.

Pointing the firearm at the boy he climbs off. "Hands on the wall. Don't give me a reason to pull this trigger again." Unarmed he has little choice and does as he is asked. The cop slaps the cuffs on him and presses the nuzzle of the Smith & Wesson into his neck. "Get in the car." He hisses as he walks him to the cruiser.

Unlocking the door, he grabs a fistful of the trouble maker's hair and rams his face into the window relentlessly for a full thirty seconds. "That-will teach- you to- mess- with- me- little maggot!" The policeman pushes him into the carrier none too gently to keep the K-9 company. He then pulls a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment, cranks the heat to High, and shuts and locks the door, with the windows up no less.


A moment goes by, he is in deep thought. Suddenly, he is reminded of his purpose. He had not come to Takkun by choice, he had been chosen to control the vast crime outbreak. His sisters had become worried that it would spread to the rest of the world. Being the good sibling he is, he took the chance to shine good in his Father's eye. Unfortunately, shortly after he had began his missionary work, about 4 years to be exact the Tragedy occurred.


After breaking up yet another drug trafficking cartel he took the rest of the day off to retire at the local tavern. Though his sisters would surely frown upon his actions, he reassured this action by explaining, he needed to fit in. It was there in the seedy bar known as The Red, he first came in contact with it. He was referring to the Clown, the Evil which radiated out of him left him speechless. Applying the Sight, he began to peer deep into the creature's mind seeing the horrendous deeds he had committed.


Luckily, the Clown was busy hitting on the waitresses to notice the Guardian and even after 3 hours of scanning he remained unseen. It appeared as if his misdeeds were endless! 3 hours of searching and he had only scratched the surface! “And this is only 1 resident of this foul area. Just imagine how many sinners must reside in this terrible place. My work is cut out for me, indeed.” The Preacher thought as he sipped his Captain Morgan.


Just then the Clown looks up, the young waitress in his lap is sticking her tongue in his mouth while twisting her hips, he stares at the Preacher for a long time. Realization comes, he is trembling in anger, the girl continues her heathen acts. He gets up throwing her to the floor. “More Elysian scum? How many must I kill before Jehovah realizes that Takkun is mine.” He snorts, then downs the rest of his beverage.


“Who the hell does he think he is?! Calling my family scum, my father creator of all life and the very ground he stands on a bastard? Misguided sinner or not, this could not go unpunished. I will not stand for this!” The Preacher thought before leaping from his chair to attack the pawn of the Devil.

It is going back and forth, with the Preacher pressing hard in the beginning but the Clown turns the tables with some key blows. He improvises, hurling furniture and all manner of projectiles at his assailant to halt his advance. Even going as far as to use civilians as shields and change them into demons. When this tactic fails he switches to another, one which forever stands as a testament to his resourcefulness and lethality. Taking a drag from one of the many bottles which litter the area, he swishes the liquid in his mouth before sending its now flaming contents, at the heavenly messenger. It is this attack which turns the tide.


In order to protect himself from the brunt of the attack the Preacher instinctively folds his wings across the chest, protecting his face and front from harm. It is this that the Clown is counting on. Once his wings and clothing catches fire and he sails overhead, unable to control his movement, the Clown conjures two wicked scimitars. Just as the Preacher flies past them he gives the order and the blades come down, severing the Angel's wings from his body.


The Preacher continues his flight, crashing through the wall of the building and skidding on the road. He tumbles and rolls over sharp glass and cinders, screaming from the pain, but the worst is still to come. Up ahead, a cop car is in hot pursuit of an armed robber. He holds the hostage in a vice grip around her throat, threatens her as he weaves through traffic, rides on sidewalks, and sprays civilians with his Mac-10. As if to reassure her there is no way he will be caught, he leans out his window and fires at the cop, popping a tire.


The trooper spins out of control, swerves then slams into dune buggy. The buggy, flies 30 feet, hits the ground and begins its deadly cartwheel. Four pedestrians are crushed, the buggy lands on the unfortunate Preacher and then explodes.

“Everything is covered in flames, the screams of the innocent are deafening. My entire body aches. Never before have I ever known such suffering. Worst of all, is even louder than the shrill sirens of the oncoming police cars, more disturbing than the mournful death cries of the bystanders, is the ghastly laughter which somehow rings true. I cannot believe it. How can anyone find such a terrible thing amusing?


It was then that I found myself filled with righteous anger. The Lord had lent me his strength, and I was going to use it to make sure no evil beings such as that horrendous Clown ever walked the Earth again. Somehow, I managed to dig myself out of the rubble that day, only to find that the Clown had disappeared.


It mattered not. I would meet with him again, there is no question about it. But when next time we meet I would be prepared. My knowledge of this age was very small, new technologies such as firearms and electricity amazed me. If I were to save the people of Takkun, I would first have to learn how to survive myself.”

Dusting himself off the Preacher hobbled to a nearby church where he meditated for months, slowly healing his wounds and formulating a strategy of how to take down his new enemies. Sadly his wings did not return, and without them he could not return home. For better or for worse he was marooned on this hellhole.

“My my, does the Lord work in mysterious ways.” The Preacher muttered as he knelt in front of the altar, just before he broke into tears.
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[Hope I did this right *wince*. ]

[Novelest_Ninjagirl]

aww. Wow, this was cool. It was a rush of things, but in a totally good way. I noticed something

Quote: Luckily, the Clown was busy hitting on the waitresses to notice the Guardian . .. .

Quote: Luckily, the Clown was to busy hitting on the waitresses to notice the Guardian