Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Ian Heartbreak/Aretha Tesla: Death, Revenge, and Even Less Caring

Ian swore. Aretha was boarding at the last gate that he decided to check; typical. He sprinted faster, his breath coming in gasps as his legs started to protest. His suit was still pulling, even though it was designed for running. He cursed the maker of his fantastic suit in his head and lurched for Aretha’s shoulder.

The woman who was collecting the plane tickets grabbed a walkie-talkie on her belt and started to speak but Ian stopped her. “I’m Ian Roger, I work for the FBI and this woman is a wanted criminal. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.” He smiled half-heartedly as he guided Aretha away from the public’s eye and into a conference room.

“What do you want?” Aretha asked in a dead voice. She looked tired.

“I’m here for revenge.” He said slowly, drawing out the words as he rolled his sleeves of his grey jacket up. “Do you know that Death Rose is dead?” His voice cracked on the word, ‘dead’.

She didn’t seem to care, which just aggravated him more.“So?”

“So I want revenge. An eye for an eye…”

There was a knock on the white door to the room and Ian growled, a low menacing sound that was designed for violence to follow, but when he spoke, his voice was cool. “This room is occupied.”
“I understand that sir, but posing as an FBI agent is illegal.” The voice was deep and obviously male.

“I am not posing, I am an FBI agent,” he said as the door was flung open and a dozen armed men with guns held at their waists burst in. He let himself into their minds, showing him dressed similarly to how they were dressed; black from head to toe, tactical gear strapped to their bodies.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir,” the same man said, his voice didn’t match his body. He was the smallest of the group, smaller than Aretha even! He had dirty grey hair that reminded her of dead seaweed, just a different colour. His eyes looked black with gold specks around the pupil and his was very buff. It was almost as stupid as Ian’s outfit; his grey suit with red runners. He wore it just for the purpose of being random. “I didn’t mean to, uh… I’m sorry.”

Ian ducked his head in acknowledgment. “It’s fine sir, have a nice day.”

“You too.”

They possie of men walked out the door muttering to themselves, their emergency over. Ian turned back to Aretha and cussed loudly. “Where the,” he said something very bad, “did she go?!”Aretha wasn’t sitting on the chair that she had been frowning on before. She wasn’t even near the room! Ian reached out with his mind to try to locate hers but there were too many people in the crowded airport. He cursed loudly and stomped back out the door, not caring if she got away anymore. Not caring in the slightest.

Aretha used Ian's momentary distraction to slip quietly out of the room. Even though it was crawling with FBI agents, she was a trained assassin, and- well, she still wasn't close to being able to sneak past Croatoan, but then again, no one was. She had no problems with anyone else, though. In just moments, she was out, and she snuck back through onto the airplane. Ian may have convinced the agents he was one of them, but news wouldn't reach the flight attendant until the plane was taking off and couldn't be stopped.

As she found her seat and settled in, she started a count in her head of all the people who had died because of her. Niccolò, her parents, her brother, probably Rosa Evergreen now that I've told her about Mevolent. There was also that one homeless man she had seen when she woke up in that alleyway, and now Death, too. She had slipped away from Ian today- she'd probably end up killing him later. And next, she thought to herself as the plane lifted off the ground, the Grand Mage.

7 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. That's French for 'nice chapter!'

      Actually, no. It's Fabi'sbrainglish. XD

      Delete
    2. I'm assuming the random person who is Blogland Collaboration is Fabi!
      Hi Fabi! You're dead!!

      Delete
    3. I like stats...

      That's Fabi'sbrainglish for yes, it was me.

      Hi...Is that a threat?


      Or a rumour?



      Or a fact...do you think I'd notice if I was dead?

      Delete
    4. Ah, I see.

      [Dies a tragic death]

      Delete