ha ha post Number 40!
ok this is sort of hhalf of the third part but it has a definate end point which the next bit doesn't have yet so here it is.
He woke, surprised not to find himself by the side of a crater. He was at home; lying in bed. She sat over him, worry showed on her face. He could see the dirty streaks down her face where she had let the tears fun. He tried to speak but the effort hurt, she saw his eyes open and relief flooded her countenance.
She embraced him, causing a rush of pain to his ribs that he ignored.
‘I thought you wouldn’t make it.’ She was crying again, the tears ignored and flowing free. He smiled, and then passed out, his vision blurring.
He spent the next three weeks in bed; he’d broken two ribs and suffered a major concussion. Stephanie sat by him as often as she could but she was the only visitor admitted by the estate doctor. In the second week he began to walk round again and by the end of the third he was training his body and beginning to come back into the businesses. All this time the war had been raging in the north of the city, the southern defenses were pushed to breaking, the northerners kept coming back with renewed numbers and better tactics. The guild had suffered heavy losses in an attack on the same day as the car explosion.
Forrest was in the gym, working out. He felt stressed; tomorrow night was his first public appearance since the accident. He had to attend a ball held by the leading parliamentarian. Forrest needed his influence on his side, the story of the skirmish in the bar had leaked and now he was being blamed for the current trouble. As he knew he would.
He dressed that night in his usual black, the shirt tight fitting but soft, his katana buckled at his waist. She was on his arm, the black ball gown flowing onto the tiles of the atrium.
The powder on the top of her breasts made her pale skin all most white, he kissed her, composed him self then they entered the hall.
The long tables were arrayed in two columns with an open space for dancing in the centre; they found they’re seats, suitably close to the head of the table and awaited the gong for the first course.
The meal was a dull affair not Forrest’s taste at all, the food was all delicately arranged and in small portions that left one feeling unsatisfied. He did manage to talk with several of the parliamentarians but they were all the old school of thinking and his views clashed with theirs. All in all the night was a disaster and he was glad when the clock struck eleven and he could leave without seeming rude. He made his goodbyes, feigning his recent injury as a reason and went home his mood soured.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Friday, August 12, 2005
Forrest: The Club (part II)
heres part two.
The estate was a large period house surrounded by landscaped gardens. The perimeter fence was made of steel bars, reminiscent of the last century. There were also the machine gun turrets hidden in various bushes and in ornaments in the houses architecture.
The interior was minimalist, with modern takes on period furniture in most of the rooms.
He awoke just before midday, he kept his eyes closed and allowed memories to flood into his head, and his senses to take hold.
A smile slowly crept to his mouth as he felt the weight of her head on his chest. He opened his eyes, and gazed at her face, a look of contentment on her face.
He kissed her and felt her muscles stir, her smile broadened as they gazed into each others eyes.
He leant in for another kiss, and there was a knock at the door, he swore.
He shouted an acknowledgement, kissed her fleetingly, showered quickly and dressed. The spring day was cold; the chemicals belched out form the factories out side the city blocking much of the heat. In the Atrium there were three guards and a man, whose face was distraught, and Forrest knew he wasn’t bringing good news.
They moved to a sitting room, he sat on a sofa and indicated they sit opposite. The man began to speak, but Forrest paid little attention he regretted his decision not to shave the nights stubble irritated his skin.
He drifted in and out of listening; the man was relaying something about an attack in province A. He nodded to the first guard, the man was allowed to finish then escorted out.
‘Go and deal with it and only bother me if it’s important.’ He sighed and went upstairs; he’d shave then go back to bed. His meeting with his brokers wasn’t until this evening, but he’d get some practice in the armory before then.
He went back upstairs, the attack playing on his mind. Northern gangs in province A, beyond the river, that was scary enough, but to have crossed the barriers set up by the guild in the two miles of no mans land on the south bank of the river. He knew there would be messages demanding more of his soldiers and others blaming him.
She was just getting into the shower, as he entered the bed room. He followed her, allowing his mind to leave the immediate problems. They washed each other, the heat of the water and the soft touch of her hands on his back took his mind form all but the here and now.
He stepped from the shower feeling invigorated. He shaved feeling cleaner; he dressed again, and loaded two extra pistols, strapped on his sword and took a dagger from the rack on the wall. The speed at which the northerners had responded made him feel uneasy.
His retinues of guards were waiting by the jeep; he nodded to them as he got into the car. He needed to see Vladimir. He knew Vlad would blame him; no doubt he had already relayed last night’s events to the guild. Forrest cursed as he realized what he’d done the night before.
He gazed out of the window the houses and offices of his province rushing by. His family had built this province from the dust of the revolution; they were built to his taste, minimal and tidy. He knew when they’d passed into Vlad territory as the architecture became more gothic following am early style the pale man was fond of.
The roads in this part of the city were narrower, the light obstructed by the looming walls of the buildings. So his driver failed to notice the three men on the balcony.
The explosion echoed through the streets. The jaguar was lifted from the road and flipped onto its roof. The metal crumpled and steam hissed from under the bonnet. The wreckage sat in a huge crater that had blossomed in the tarmac.
He struggled to move under the wreckage, the body of the driver lay next to him. He didn’t need to feel his pulse to know he was dead, the half severed head told him that. He grimaced and kicked at the seat that now trapped his left leg. It shifted enough to allow the limb to move. His chest hurt, a cold stabbing pain, but there was no wound so he assumed he’d broken a rib in the explosion.
Out side the wreckage emptied clips into the balcony, the other two lay on the ground beside the jeep; one injured the other dead, a rifle round buried in his skull.
Forrest, let out an involuntary sigh of relief as the crumpled door was prized open and dragged him free. The danger no passed the adrenaline fled his body and he fainted, lying by the side of the road.
The estate was a large period house surrounded by landscaped gardens. The perimeter fence was made of steel bars, reminiscent of the last century. There were also the machine gun turrets hidden in various bushes and in ornaments in the houses architecture.
The interior was minimalist, with modern takes on period furniture in most of the rooms.
He awoke just before midday, he kept his eyes closed and allowed memories to flood into his head, and his senses to take hold.
A smile slowly crept to his mouth as he felt the weight of her head on his chest. He opened his eyes, and gazed at her face, a look of contentment on her face.
He kissed her and felt her muscles stir, her smile broadened as they gazed into each others eyes.
He leant in for another kiss, and there was a knock at the door, he swore.
He shouted an acknowledgement, kissed her fleetingly, showered quickly and dressed. The spring day was cold; the chemicals belched out form the factories out side the city blocking much of the heat. In the Atrium there were three guards and a man, whose face was distraught, and Forrest knew he wasn’t bringing good news.
They moved to a sitting room, he sat on a sofa and indicated they sit opposite. The man began to speak, but Forrest paid little attention he regretted his decision not to shave the nights stubble irritated his skin.
He drifted in and out of listening; the man was relaying something about an attack in province A. He nodded to the first guard, the man was allowed to finish then escorted out.
‘Go and deal with it and only bother me if it’s important.’ He sighed and went upstairs; he’d shave then go back to bed. His meeting with his brokers wasn’t until this evening, but he’d get some practice in the armory before then.
He went back upstairs, the attack playing on his mind. Northern gangs in province A, beyond the river, that was scary enough, but to have crossed the barriers set up by the guild in the two miles of no mans land on the south bank of the river. He knew there would be messages demanding more of his soldiers and others blaming him.
She was just getting into the shower, as he entered the bed room. He followed her, allowing his mind to leave the immediate problems. They washed each other, the heat of the water and the soft touch of her hands on his back took his mind form all but the here and now.
He stepped from the shower feeling invigorated. He shaved feeling cleaner; he dressed again, and loaded two extra pistols, strapped on his sword and took a dagger from the rack on the wall. The speed at which the northerners had responded made him feel uneasy.
His retinues of guards were waiting by the jeep; he nodded to them as he got into the car. He needed to see Vladimir. He knew Vlad would blame him; no doubt he had already relayed last night’s events to the guild. Forrest cursed as he realized what he’d done the night before.
He gazed out of the window the houses and offices of his province rushing by. His family had built this province from the dust of the revolution; they were built to his taste, minimal and tidy. He knew when they’d passed into Vlad territory as the architecture became more gothic following am early style the pale man was fond of.
The roads in this part of the city were narrower, the light obstructed by the looming walls of the buildings. So his driver failed to notice the three men on the balcony.
The explosion echoed through the streets. The jaguar was lifted from the road and flipped onto its roof. The metal crumpled and steam hissed from under the bonnet. The wreckage sat in a huge crater that had blossomed in the tarmac.
He struggled to move under the wreckage, the body of the driver lay next to him. He didn’t need to feel his pulse to know he was dead, the half severed head told him that. He grimaced and kicked at the seat that now trapped his left leg. It shifted enough to allow the limb to move. His chest hurt, a cold stabbing pain, but there was no wound so he assumed he’d broken a rib in the explosion.
Out side the wreckage emptied clips into the balcony, the other two lay on the ground beside the jeep; one injured the other dead, a rifle round buried in his skull.
Forrest, let out an involuntary sigh of relief as the crumpled door was prized open and dragged him free. The danger no passed the adrenaline fled his body and he fainted, lying by the side of the road.
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