Intertwining Paths

[Raebus]

Okay, heres part 1 and 2, It'll probably be a 7 or 8 part story. Just something that came about through boredom, enjoy. :)


Beginnings



“Good boy”

The master and his servant once connected by a feeling of respect, now separated by a once in a lifetime chance. It was time for this old tradition of treachery to be re enacted, this time with the help of a young boy, tears dwelled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheek, the gun, which was almost too big for his small hands, shook along with his curled up fingers wrapped around it.

In front of him stood an elderly man, a contemptuous look started to appear and twist his face, old age wrinkles showing clearer and clearer until eventually, it resembled a gargoyle. The stare from his eyes, it almost felt like it was looking beyond he flesh and into the boy’s soul. It was over within a few minutes, the tears which once wept from the boys pure blue eyes dried up and his face screwed up in anger, a small finger pulled inwards on the trigger and bang, point blank range, no way could he miss.

The moment his finger had pulled back the trigger he closed his eyes, not daring to open them and face the brutal reality of what he had done, he didn’t have to aim. Yet, he opened his eyes to see the same look on the old mans face, lacking the condescending look, which had been replaced with bewilderment. He had once chance, one perfect chance to end the life of the devil reincarnate, someone who had haunted him since his birth, beside the old man within the wall, a single bullet hole lay trapped in it.

“Not yet, but soon, dear boy”

He didn’t even have to ask, just reach out his old wrinkled hand and obediently, the boy stepped forwards and relinquished his grip on the gun and handed it over. Sirens broke the solitude and immediately, the old man grabbed the child’s hand and pulled him along, a begrudging look apparent on the boys face as he looked back at the spot where he once stood, ready to free himself of this life.



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A red droplet fell from the sky, followed by thousands more, blood. Unexplained to this very day, it was said that the gods took it upon themselves to bear the brunt of the worlds sorrow; each hit cut into their flesh. In the middle of this stood a single figure, for a moment, he did nothing except look upwards and mutter something with what seemed like a slight grin appearing on his face before glancing down the street.

Demolished buildings welcomed his gaze, nothing but ruins of a poor district, why they were destroyed was anyone’s guess, with no witnesses to spew out crap given in the form of a voice. In the distance, the sound of gunfire erupted.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears, bouncing off the gravel and creating a grating sound, sounding like a group as the sound became clearer and clearer until eventually, shouting and heavy became apparent along with it. Eventually they mixed with the grating noise to become something that no matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t able to close yourself off from it.
The fear dwelled up in the unsuspecting figure, how many where their? Who were they? Beads of sweat began to pore down and his face. Nervously, he bit his lower lip, a bad habit he’s always had. Sure, he could have tried to keep up his tough demeanour but in truth, he was a coward.

Silence. The noise, which had threatened to overwhelm him, ceased, his question as to why was answered. In the distance, a group of unclear figures seemed to be looking up at something; sight wasn’t needed, as the sound of it shifting through the air grew more immense.

[Raebus]

Goodbye



“How long as it been?”

“2 years, why?”

The same conversation struck up again, the same conversation, which usually came up from the depths of silence every few weeks. Two figures stood in a room, a young boy with a scowl on his face, wearing a pair of scruffy shorts and an old shirt.

The other person, a young man with a casual air about him, the meticulously cut suit highlighted the horrendous gulf in status between the two, though he hated to acknowledge it. His blue eyes looked around the room before finally setting on the young boy, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it, yet more silence, and he turned away from the boy and glanced out of the huge window, which welcomed his gaze.

Even though they were a thousand feet up in the air, it was still noticeable, smoke still spewed from the streets and crowds of tiny figures marched through the city, another riot and another good cause swallowed up by the peoples hatred. He just stood their, aware of the company but unable to pull himself away from the view until eventually, a small cough broke him free from the trance like state and he looked back towards the boy.

The young man's visitor, annoyance now noticeable across his delicately moulded features, sighed as he turned and left the room, the slam of the door jarring against the silence.

“The deed is done”

A raspy reached his ears, he didn’t even move though with shock or act surprised, like he was expecting it. He glanced upwards and laid his eyes on another smartly dressed person, looking slightly older than he was, standing on the ceiling. A strange person, he knew practically nothing about him, other than his name, Jean.

“Excellent, care for a glass before leaving?”

Courtesy has always been one of his strong points or at least one of his more admirable traits, something quite rare today, in the world or even the city itself. He walked over and pulled two glasses out of a cabinet just above a piece of paper which was nailed to wall, it showed two figures shaking hands, although most of it was taken up by an even bigger image further along of a face, definitely edited to remove all it’s of it’s targets flaws. He mumbled something before reaching once more into the cabinet and pulling out a single bottle of brownish liquid and turned round to face Jean again.

“Brandy will do?”

“Sure but something else.”
His hand faltered slightly as he grabbed the bottle and began to pour a more than generous amount into jeans glass, slightly spilling it over the side and watched it drip down onto the lush carpet. Looking up, he saw the look in his eyes, distrust. Nervously, he cleared his throat and finished pouring the already half bottle into his own glass. Something was wrong, he usually wasn’t so damn curious. He twisted his neck slightly as he glanced back towards his guest.

“First though, do you mind ACTUALLY being normal for once and taking a seat?”

He gestured towards a seat opposite his desk. Jean placed his left hand out in front, till it was flat on the upper ceiling and lifted his feet up until he was in a handstand position and pushed his hand off the ceiling, making sure to land perfectly on the ground unceremoniously. Without saying a word, he walked up to him and reached past, wrapping his bony hand around one of the glasses, placed it near his mouth, taking a sip and savouring the taste before arranging himself comfortable in one of the chair a few spaces away.

“As I was saying, my target, it’s just…”

All of a sudden, he was nervous as hell. He tried to hide from Jean and reached inside his jacket, pulling out a tissue and wiping away the sweat trickling down his face before chucking it aside. Luckily, his guest was preoccupied with the view and didn’t seem notice, in a cavalier fashion he walked over to the desk, being careful to hide the shaking of his hand around the glass.

He hated to admit it, but he always did this, folded under pressure. A leader has to be brave and never thinks twice about anything, even when things get complicated, the leader will sort everything out for all his cowards working under him, he hated that aspect.

“Hatred, it’s like a virus that spreads through person to person. Like a virus, it also has a source, but the source I killed, the person who’s neck I snapped was a…”

Jean stopped in mid sentence, as why he stopped; it was made clear the moment he looked up to see the barrel of a gun. He almost felt sorry for poor old Jean, he couldn’t utter a single word; his mouth just kept slightly opening. You don’t need a voice as proof of fear when you could see it in their eyes. He laughed to himself, not on purpose but at a thought; he’d only ever paid this much attention to faces when it was their last encounter.

“Leo, wait!”

Two consecutive shots rang through the room, closely followed by the squeaking a chair as it moved side to side with two arms on each side of the arm rests. Leo looked down at the gun; a small amount of blood had splattered against it, at such a close and all. No one would run in shock, no one at all. They knew as well as him that a few sacrifices are necessary; you have to look at the bigger picture.