Cyril Khan
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2006
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The blade slid out as silent as the morning breeze. The metal made only a minor reflection in the early light. The tiny glimmer was not nearly enough to catch the eye. It was a pity; the man about to enter the dark alley would have been able to see his fate had more light reflected. The shiny blade, free from its holding, lunged from the shadows into what seemed to be a businessman. Before the body fell to the ground, the killer lurched from the darkness and ran down the street with the victim’s briefcase.
The killer would not have killed this man unjustified. The case was filled with many credits. The murderer had thwarted an illicit dealing. While the new gain from the sudden attack was great, it was a risky move. The other dealer, expecting the money, would be trying to find the robber. Also, law enforcement would be on the killer’s tail. Desperately the robber ran into an alley, only to meet a worse foe.
The bloody blade pointed to the ground as the murderer stopped suddenly. The new man stood still; his long black hair danced in the wind. “You!” cried the robber. The other stood firm, but did not draw a weapon. “I have been sent for that money,” the newcomer said strongly. The killer grinned as he answered. “You’re too late!” he laughed. “I got their first!” The man did not move; his face remained as serious as it had ever been. “You have two choices,” he responded to proud statement. “You can run into the street and let the law get to you, or you can try to get by me.” The robber chuckled at the statement. He lifted his blade and slowly stepped towards the man. “And you think you can beat me?” the thief cackled. “Do you know who I am? You may have beaten out pathetic men, but I am the best swordsman in my gang, fool.”
Those words ended the conversation. The murderer charged, sending his blade towards the neck of the man. In a sudden moment, the dark blade of the other lurched from its sheath into the stomach of the killer. The robber let a cough as the wound was let free; he fell to his knees in shock. Blood fell like a small waterfall, but death came not from liquid loss. A second after the kneecaps hit the ground, the head of the robber did as well.
With no hesitation, the briefcase was taken up from the pool of blood and carried deeper into the alley. The thing was that the robber had been the best swordsman of his gang. However, the man that stopped him was Maros Xahng, one of the best pirate swordsmen alive. Death was not a common thing for Maros to put on another, yet he knew this man had murdered. He only gave killers their due, and never harmed an innocent being. This still did not liberate him of his crimes.
The killer would not have killed this man unjustified. The case was filled with many credits. The murderer had thwarted an illicit dealing. While the new gain from the sudden attack was great, it was a risky move. The other dealer, expecting the money, would be trying to find the robber. Also, law enforcement would be on the killer’s tail. Desperately the robber ran into an alley, only to meet a worse foe.
The bloody blade pointed to the ground as the murderer stopped suddenly. The new man stood still; his long black hair danced in the wind. “You!” cried the robber. The other stood firm, but did not draw a weapon. “I have been sent for that money,” the newcomer said strongly. The killer grinned as he answered. “You’re too late!” he laughed. “I got their first!” The man did not move; his face remained as serious as it had ever been. “You have two choices,” he responded to proud statement. “You can run into the street and let the law get to you, or you can try to get by me.” The robber chuckled at the statement. He lifted his blade and slowly stepped towards the man. “And you think you can beat me?” the thief cackled. “Do you know who I am? You may have beaten out pathetic men, but I am the best swordsman in my gang, fool.”
Those words ended the conversation. The murderer charged, sending his blade towards the neck of the man. In a sudden moment, the dark blade of the other lurched from its sheath into the stomach of the killer. The robber let a cough as the wound was let free; he fell to his knees in shock. Blood fell like a small waterfall, but death came not from liquid loss. A second after the kneecaps hit the ground, the head of the robber did as well.
With no hesitation, the briefcase was taken up from the pool of blood and carried deeper into the alley. The thing was that the robber had been the best swordsman of his gang. However, the man that stopped him was Maros Xahng, one of the best pirate swordsmen alive. Death was not a common thing for Maros to put on another, yet he knew this man had murdered. He only gave killers their due, and never harmed an innocent being. This still did not liberate him of his crimes.