Selected Writings
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:28pm
Thread Topic: Selected Writings
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The fourty-millimeter round streaked through the air like a shooting star, falling on an arc, and impacting the thorax of the Queen, sending purple liquid and hunks of spider flying. As one, the Arachnids screeched at the attack on their matriarch, and charged their attackers. Running into a wall of lead and swords.
The group, lead by Michael and Allyson, charged up the middle, cutting a path through the Arachnids as they charged for the bunker doors. -
The bloodlust of the insects were met in the front by flaming incindiary rounds from Michael's shotgun, and by the perpetual lethal movement of Ally's swords. They instictually knew what the other was doing, a bond forged in uncountable skirmishes and engagements in the mere seven months in which Ally had been on Earth.
Swarms of Arachnids attacked, some babies the size of a tarantula, other full grown ones approximitely the size of a VW Beetle. The Queen hit earlier was out of the fight, bleeding profusly -
However, the second Queen was, as of yet, unscathed and charging into the fray.
The fireteam knew that they wouldn't kill it in a frontal assault, so the two leaders went asymetrical on it. A look passed between the two leaders solidified the next move. Michael emptied his clip, and slung the shotgun, replacing it with his dual, black, .50 caliber pistols. "Everybody keep going," he barked over the gunfire. Ally's swords vanished, and her massive gold wings appeared, brushing his neck.
A nod passed: Ready. -
Her hands went under his arms, and her powerful wings lifted them up silently. She flew up, over the second Queen. Both were in deep concentration: One on landing his shots on the weak spots in the Queens skin, the other on flying as steadily as she could. Neither noticed the elevated heartrate of the other. Though both were seasoned fighters, and a battle barely affected them, it was their closeness. "Ready?" Michael breathed.
"Dumb question," Allyson replied.
Two fingers tightened around two triggers. -
A hail of gunfire streaked from the pistols, each round landing in the target area. The recoil shot through his arms, and suddenly she felt the desire to actually see his muscle. Allyson had seen the effects, and knew his power without a weapon, but never seen him with his shirt off. Always hidden under that damn armored shirt... Why now? she wondered, in the middle of a shootout, surrounded by gia-
"Left side!" Michael yelled, a streak of white...
Web caught her wing, immobilizing it. Ally cursed.. -
.. As they fell, one good wing beating helplessly at the air. Michael tucked in his arms and weapons, bracing for the fall. She hated the helpless, vunerable feeling, as the surface rushed towards them.
Michael hit first, hitting his side hard, the weight of Ally landing on top of him. His left shoulder dislocated, but he made no noise. They skid a little bit, and ended at the wall. Ally crawled off, snapping her wing free and crouching by him. "Michael?"
"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth, in pain. -
More pressing was the Arachnid force closing on them from all directions. Michael fought and repressed his weakness brought by the searing pain, and the stars subsiding from his sight and drew one pistol. He was determined to fight.
Ally summoned her swords and stood next to him, extending her brilliant wings, and cut down the spiders as they charged them, running into a furious angel's blades. When they backed off, she dematerialized her swords and crouched, lifting her comrade with a grunt of exertion. -
Michael closed his eyes as she carried him over the damn spiders, the Desert Eagle tight in his grip. Finally, she set him on the small crescant of space by the door defended by the Rangers while one of their number worked the terminal nearby. Within thirty seconds the door creaked open, Ally and Dante pulled him inside, and shut the bulkhead.
"We know what to do, Boss," one said, as the group fanned out, searching and securing the bunker. Leaving the two alone. -
"How bad, A?" he asked, the adreniline filtering out of his bloodstream and the pain rushing back.
The angel didn't say anything, she just laid her hand on his shoulder. A soft gold glow emenated from her hand, and her eyes changed to that color. His shoulder gently moved into place, his bloodflow restored, the dislocation had pinched a vein. After thirty seconds, she exhaled. "Better?"
"Thanks," he whispered, looking at her gold eyes slowly return to brown.
However, the healing had a price... -
When Allyson had been an angel, using this power had no consequence. Now, after becoming a fallen, every time she healed, she acquired a part of that person. With him, she got a door into his mind, one she never used. But sometimes thoughts of his would be overheard. "Anytime," she replied, sitting next to him.
Haghn smiled softly, "come on," he stood, holding his hand out.
She lightly took it, happy that he cared about her when none other had. They were tovarishes, until the end. -
Assault On Heaven-
For most, an ornate four post bed, large, comfortable couch, chair, and an attached bathroom was princly accomedations. However, to the rooms single occupant, it was a cell with golden bars. She was a prisoner.
It is well known among the angels that loving a human is a horrible offense, one which afforded the punishment of Falling.
Love was her crime, and as strong, brilliant, and determined as her lover was, he couldn't save her in time. No one could. -
Absentmindedly, she touched the bracelet on her left wrist. It was titanium, with a gold inlay. Michael had given it to her, and she'd given him one of the same design, albeit alternate. They had gotten them linked, through the work of a mage. Either of them could touch the bracelet, say the other's names, and teleport the other to them. It worked on Earth, but would never extend to Heaven.
Allyson slumped on the bed, waiting for Loki, her captor, to come back, take her to the High Council for her trial. -
She slowly drifted to sleep, not noticing the brief spike in heat from the ornament on her wrist.
Seemingly an hour past, before her door opened. Honed by months of fighting, Ally awoke right away, glaring at the man. He wore the standard angel metal guard armor. Broad chestplate, face-concealing helmet, sword on his hip. But she caught two inaccuracies: This one was an inch shorter than average, and most importantly, sported no wings.
"You're a little short for a guard," she quipped. -
A grin split the handsome face, as he took off the helmet. Revealing a chiseled jaw, rugged face, hard blue eyes, and that cocky smirk. Ally's heart swelled, as she jumped up and embraced him. "Michael..." she whispered, burying her face into his neck.
"I'd always come for you," he whispered, his arms around her.
"Its not safe for you to be here," she said.
"What we do isn't safe. The stakes were higher this time." -
Twenty minutes ago
"Helljumper, Helljumper, where you been?" Michael called from the lead.
"Feet first to Hell and back again," the cadets behind him replied in a combined voice. It was the daily five mile run.
"When I die please bury me deep."
"Lay an M4 by my feet."
"Don't cry for me, don't shed no tear."
"Just pack my box with PT gear."
"Cause one early morning, about zero five."
"The ground'll rumble, there'll be lightning in the sky."
"Don't you worry, don't come undone."
"JUST MY GHOST ON THE PT RUN
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