There was a knock at the door. The dark skinned man turned his attention to it and said” yes” as if replying to a question. There was a pause and it hit him like bullet to the head. The door seemed to explode off its hinges as a man hurried into the room aiming a pistol at shoulder level. The black man overturned the kitchen table, knocking over the cup of coffee and spilling its contents all over the rug and crossword he was working on. Bullets erupted from the pistol and came crashing hard into the overturned table. The black man rolled away from the cover of the table and looked straight into the gunman’s eyes through the now dusty and shrapnel filled room. “Die” yelled the man as he slashed his hand through the air towards the intruder. The gunman quickly grabbed the bottom corner of his cloak and pulled it over him as he dropped to his knees just in time. Flames swept across the man’s fingers and enveloped the intruder. The black man stood up as he watched the flames dance like a violent ballet. He bent over and picked up a picture frame. He rubbed off some of the dust with his sleeve and put it back on the shelf with the others. He wondered how he would explain this to his wife, he would never allow her to find out, he would die first. He thought about packing up and leaving, leaving a wife and three year old daughter behind, but he knew that they would find him through them. He knew the agency tortures quite well and would give himself up to set them free. His train of thought was interrupted and washed away like a tsunami just went through his head. He turned and yelled “traitor” as he swung his hand, launching a fireball from his fingertips that just missed a figure appearing in full stride from the wall. The missed fireball hit the kitchen cabinet and caused it to explode and send splinters shooting across the room. The flaming remnants of the cabinet began to fill the room with smoke. He wound up his arm and flung another fireball towards the new assailant but it didn’t get to him fast enough as he dived towards the table and phased through it. Before he could react the assailant pulled a knife from his combat vest and rammed the blade into the black man’s thigh. The glass vial inside the blade shattered once inside, releasing its sky blue contents into the bloodstream and leaving a faint trail as the blade was removed. The black man stumbled backwards and could no longer feel his legs as a feeling of numbness began to quickly sweep his body. He fell to his knees and then the rest of his body collapsed and darkness overtook his mind. “Nice job marcier” said the man who was trying to shake the flames off his cloak and eventually just ditched it. Marcier looked at his partner, “you too Jackson”. They were both dressed in standard agency hunter gear, all black and in standard fashion only used their last names. A radio on jacksons vest turned on and began to produce static. Soon words formed. “He’s…. there….all units….level four….. wit…..”. “Shit” exclaimed marcier as Jackson yelled but towards the doorframe “he’s here guys, ghost, get you shit together and lets get him”.
A hooded figure silently appeared upon the squad of armed agent cluttered outside a door. The figure soundlessly walked behind one of the men and quickly wrapped his left hand around the bottom of his jaw and pulled upwards as he delivered a hard right punch to the back of the neck simultaneously; the result snapped the spinal cord and nearly tore the gullet open as blood began to pour out like a broken dam. That got the rest of the group’s attention. he dashed low to the next ones knees and smashed his right elbow into the side of the man’s knee and broke it. This caused him to tumble down and during his descent the hooded man grabbed the knife sheathed under the soldiers vest and slashed his throat with it. A fountain of blood began to form as he moved t the next one. He plunged the knife through his next victim’s neck which pinned the corpse to the wall and grabbed his shotgun with his right and pressed underneath the man besides him chin and painted the wall with his brains. The next mans didn’t even have time to respond as the hooded man leaped into the air over him and turned himself upside down , then pressed his hands on either side of the face and twisted so that his head had a full one hundred and eighty degree turn on it and was staring into the eyes of the others. He slid gracefully to the floor like a cat and through his cloak into a agents face. This mysterious figure was wearing a mask that covered the entirety of his face. The mask was very plain; it was white with soulless black eyes and a horizontal line for a mouth and a regular nose. His whole body was covered in midnight black clothing. He pulled out two six cylinder revolvers out of his cloak. He pushed one underneath the cloak and vest of the man he had stunned and blinded with the cloak and fire three shots, one in the heart, and two in the lungs. And turned the other one and fire all six rounds into two other guards using the other revolver. He placed both revolvers back into his cloak and turned just in time to see one of the agent get his bearing and raise his fully automatic submachine gun shoulder height. The masked man slid just underneath the bullets as they erupted from the muzzle of the gun. He swung his open palmed right hand into the locked elbows of the agent and shattered the joints. He grabbed the hot muzzle of the gun and ripped it out of his weak grip and using it as a bat smashed the agent in his left knee with it. As the agent crumpled on the floor he delivered a crushing blow to the skull with the machinegun which shattered the skull and broke the gun. By this point all the agents that he hadn’t killed yet had their guns aimed to kill.
Jackson looked out the door when no response came from the hallway. He peered out into the hallway to a grisly massacre. He looked down the hallway just in time to see a strange masked man with both hands, each hands wrapped around a jaw. With ease he pulled the jaw wide open. Tearing the lower jaw right off and taking with it the skin covering the front part of the neck. The masked murderer turned on his heels and locked eyes with Jackson. Jackson knew who it was. Before Jackson could say anything Marcier appeared from the wall leading with his right leg headed straight for his head. The masked man waited until his foot was about to tough his nose before his bloody hands shot upwards and grabbed him by the ankle. He turned on his hips and swung his arms downward sharply. Jackson heard a snap and then a thud and was petrified in his steps. The masked man maintained that swinging motion all the way around his body and let go. An unconscious marcier rocketed into Jacksons sternum and knocked the wind out of him as they collided to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The masked man walked towards them menacingly. Jackso0n looked at marcier. His head was busted open and gushing blood down his forehead and into his eyes and mouth, probably the result of when his head hit the wall. Marciers right legs knee was bent backwards at a almost seventy degree angle and had spear like bones protruding through the flesh. The stranger grabbed his cloak and walked past Jackson towards a window and stopped just in front on the frame. He turned around and stared at Jackson. Jackson tried to inconspicuously pull out his hands that had his pistol in his hand that was trapped under jacksons body. The masked man plunged his left hand into his cloak and pulled out something that filled his fist. Never taking his gaze off Jackson and vice versa, the masked man unclenched his fist and weakly underhanded tossed it so that it barely floated atop the floor before making contact and rolling the handheld explosive device towards Jackson. Jackson freed his hands just as the grenade hit the floor and began to roll towards him. He didn’t care to aim he just got him in his sights and pulled the trigger once and yelled “ghooos….”
Then the entire apartment exploded in a fiery celebration of destruction.
He managed to launch himself backwards out of the window just as the bullet smashed into the frame. The masked man was in a free fall headfirst halfway down the stainless steel building side when the apartment exploded. Air flew passed his face as he rocketed towards the ground. The ground rose up like smoke. The masked man drifted closer to the wall and as he stretched out his legs he broke out into a vertical run along the wall. He reached the bottom and slowed his sprint into a walk in the blink of an eye. He waited in the shadows, unseen, until a large group of unsuspecting people walked by, huddled in a large group like ants to a clump of sugar. The man pulled up his hood and blended in seamlessly. It was like no one seemed to notice the wailing sirens like the screams of a banshee or the blades of the helicopters whose spinning blades sounded like machineguns rattling off bullets into the air. Everyone except one man whose every fiber burned with hate but couldn’t help a uncharacteristic smile creep into the corners of his mouth.
He didn’t have enough time to finish the word as the explosion roared open from the canister. His whole body was in a searing pain for what seemed like forever and now there was nothing, it was like the universe had exploded and it was just him and his thoughts.
He couldn’t believe what had happened. Jackson had been with the agency for twelve years and was well versed with the rumors and myth that seemed to swallow that masked man whole and make him into a monster. But he was still a man, he was sure of it. Unlike most of the other people though he had inside knowledge of what he really was.
He was supposed to be the perfect one. They were never sure what to classify them as, soldiers, freaks, monsters, but the public gave them a name that soon became synonymous with those, witch. And these so called witches had the same effect that they had in Salem all those years ago, public outcry, fear and anger mostly. However you couldn’t tie these witches up and burn them at the stake for two reasons, one, they were government property and two, they were hard motherfuckers to kill. Every one of them has a power. Some can teleport, some can conjure fire, and some can turn water into ice. There are so many different powers no one can keep up with them. The only drawback to these powers is the enormous strain it takes on the body and mind. The results vary from subject to subject but some fall into a suicidal state of depression. Some get into fits of uncontrollable rage. Some have a sort of heroin effect where they feel things crawling all over their bodies which can lead to either them maiming themselves or worse. He doesn’t have any of these though. He was perfect.
No one except for high ranking agents know the training to become a witch. Although training isn’t really the right word, more like torture. They handpicked children in kindergarten and any surviving ones from campaigns in foreign countries. They then wiped out any sort of identification, only the color of their eyes and skin was different between them. They took away their nationality, birth date, family, and name, and replaced it all with a number. They would be given a government moniker if their bodies accepted the poison and once their skills developed. Only thirty percent survived. After that they would go through camp to hone their skills, bodies and minds. The survival rate of camps where worse than that of the poison. It takes fifteen years before they are allowed to leave.
The government doesn’t like to call it a poison. But even those in the agency called it that. It had a name some sort of really long scientific name that no one cared to remember. There are books upon books all about the lore behind it. Most of the original research team of it died by the unrefined effects of it. The others were murdered. They say it’s supernatural and comes from space. All that’s known about it is that you put it in someone and it works just like a virus. It mutates the cells and just seems to awaken something. There’s no rhyme or reason and all you can do is call it a wonder of nature.
There are leaders. The cream of the crops that control a legion of witches that have similar powers to them. Scientists found that witches respond better towards the witches who have similar powers. But he was supposed to lead them all. No one had his power. None were even close.
He sat in that dark place, feeling emotions and revelations that where bottled up inside him for years well up. Then he heard something. It started very quietly, like a mouse scratching at something inside a wall. It quickly rose in volume and it sounded like the scream of a dentist’s drill burrowing into his ears. He squeezed his eyes close and when he opened them the dark place was engulfed in a a brilliant white light that burnt away the blackness like fire. He felt his eyes burn out of their sockets and his skin turn to wax under the heat. He wilted under the intense pressure and as he lay on the floor a tear rolled down the valleys of his face and a words crawled its way out of his mouth. “please”.
Subject: cant stick to one stroy for extended periods of time. heres some new work. 
Thu Dec 30, 2010 2:17 am