Don't Fear the Reaper: Chapter 1
It's dark. Nighttime. My favorite time. Especially after it rains, what luck for me tonight then...
For everyone who doesn't know me, my name is Jonathan Porter Caldwell. But for the longest of times, I hadn't used it. It took me till about 3 weeks ago to remember...got too used to the name everyone else had given me...
Most people call me a Skinner. I belong to a subsection of a major government corporation that specializes in tracking down and eliminating members of other governments that MY government doesn't particularly like. Got all that? Good.
Skinners are very highly bred and extremely well-trained for what we do. Assassinations.
Silent, invisible, deadly. Our main steadfast laws, these are the rules you'll want to stick to when you get your next job. They make it easier...for the beginners. Sure! Not to say I'm not one to work like that on the average job, but for other jobs you kinda want them to know you're there...to feel that fear and then when they expect it the most...you gut them while they flick away their bullets round by round...hitting only the wall behind you! Because that's what guns do! They miss. There's no skill OR honor involved in pulling a killswitch. We train to dodge projectiles, disarm gunmen, dismantle firearms, and that's about all we have to do with guns...
We're the best...no one can doubt that even if they were the most stubborn fools in the world...
We have no fear. We have no families, we have no lives. No emotion. No mercy. No mistakes. Ever.
Come along on this little journey if you'd like! I'm sure you'll find it entertaining...keep up, and oh! Just a little warning...on your way...
Stay out of mine....
A house devoid of lights. Darkness, rain pattering the roof and the polymer covering his back. His targets rest here. Inside. Tonight, it almost seemed too perfect. Dark, cold, pouring rain, windy, crescent moon...he loves the crescents...
Now, onto business...
He clipped his dropchord to the bird-railing on the side of the apartment complex upon which he stood and then leapt, the chord stopping him as he touches down. A quick yank on the chord and back it zips into his belt. One twist to the side and his spine cracks pleasurably, leaving him stress-free as he makes his way up to the large, regal-looking building. He wore a red, relatively skintight battlesuit, coated from head to toe in custom stitches for the added effect of terror. Along with hundreds of pockets and sheathes. His long black jacket trailed around his boots, also covered in stitches, but no pockets for weapons...at least on the outside. He wore a pair of gloves with large metal studs on the knuckles. On his head there was a helmet bearing slight resemblance to a motorcyclist's helmet, more form-fitting though, much less clunky, and without an attached front. It had a removable faceplate instead. The helmet was pure white and polished to the core, and the faceplate was the only thing any Skinner could have to himself. It was his face...his only face. His faceplate had a skeletal look to it, also bleached white. Its eyeholes were slightly sunken into the helmet and the nose was missing the cartilage, like an old, human skull. The bottom and top jaws were spaced evenly apart, and the teeth were nothing more than metal strips connecting the two. Between the teeth, though, were grating panels for separating oxygen and pathological intruders.
The gates aren't too heavily fortified tonight. The wind and rain has brought out the more dedicated guards and driven the lazier/less loyal inside. Wonderful...
The guards outside of the gates look at him as he approaches the gates, head bowed...
Thoughts race through his head...time to analyze...
Targets: Two official guards. Male. Basic combat and flashy takedown techniques if not any less. Large builds. Unable to decipher species underneath helmets and bandanas.
Armament: MP5-K submachine guns. MK-23 handguns (holstered). Kevlar vests. Military-grade Trauma-resistant helmets. Urban-camouflaged Army fatigues. Red-checkered (left) and skull/crossbones (right) bandanas covering nose and mouth.
Predicted movements: Shoulder-to-shoulder stance, designed to instill feeling of impassibility into subject. Discreet display of weapons and physical build. Yelling for effect of intimidation.
The two guards moved side by side and hefted their guns, standing tall and looking down at the Skinner.
He was about 3 feet away from the guards when they raised their weapons to him.
They didn't even have a chance to start yelling. The Skinner leapt forwards, two small blades jumping from his sleeves and slicing both guards clean across the throat before quickly snapping back inside. The Skinner stopped when he stood behind them, turning around slightly to watch them slump to the ground. He bent over and picked up a card off of one of their belts. He swiped it through a reader on the wrought iron gates. The doors beeped and then slowly swung open. He dropped the card, then reached up to his helmet and pressed a button close to his ear. There was a small burst of static then a silence.
"Mother, its Scarecrow," his voice distortion apparatus in his helmet made him sound hoarse and gravelly, quite terrifying! A gentle, female voice came on over the other line.
"Scarecrow, Mother hears her Children," the voice said smoothly. She was clearly an older woman, judging by the sound of her voice maybe 30-35. "Have you made contact?"
"Affirmative, Mother," Scarecrow said. "Contact has been made, beginning my Descent."
"Mother hears, Scarecrow, continue on. Be safe," Mother said.
"As always Mother Dearest," Scarecrow said and blew a kiss over the phone. He took his finger off of the button and kept moving. He brought up his hand and tapped out a code on a number pad over his right breast. Then he slapped the back of his hand, hitting a button on his glove. His body shimmered for a second...then vanished! Melted in with the landscape! He was gone...
There were three guards talking in a circle in front of the stairwell that lead upstairs. They laughed occasionally and looked around, trying to look wary.
Scarecrow looked through the glass on the front door. Watching them.
He was camouflaged, so no one could see him...but he could see them...
Time to analyze...
The guards heard a noise and each one of them looked around suspiciously before shouldering their weapons and aiming around the place. It wasn't a suspicious noise...it was a usual noise...the front door being unlocked...
It swung open...the guards trained their guns at it, waiting for someone or something to come through.
"Identify!" one called out. There was no response. One of the other guards, who was in the back, was new to the job, just getting his bearings.
"C'mon, don't be problems...please don't be a problem...just be another guy coming through the front doors...please," he thought to himself. There was heavy breathing on the back of his neck...
He screamed and turned around, aiming his weapon all over the place! He calmed down a bit, seeing nothing, and then turned around to see what was going on with the others. He turned to see an odd sight...
One of his fellows lay on the ground, a huge gash in his chest! The other was lifted off of the ground by a near 7' tall, black-and-red, stitch-covered nightmare holding a long, bloodied machete-type blade in his other hand! The guard choked and sputtered and clawed at the hand around his neck desperately. Scarecrow looked at him and cocked his head slightly, and then his grip tightened until a dull popping noise burst from the guard's neck. The guard went limp and blood dripped from his mouth as Scarecrow threw him to the side and turned to face the last guard. The guard shivered wildly, eyes wide open, and threw down his gun, raising his hands high. He fell to his knees as Scarecrow approached him, he started whimpering in fear.
"Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" the guard yanked a card off of his belt and, with quivering fingers, held it to Scarecrow. Scarecrow bent down and looked at it for a minute, and then snatched it out of the guard's hand. He stood up and looked it over before whipping his arm to the side, his machete slicing through the air and the guard's throat. The guard sputtered for a minute then plopped down onto the cold granite floor.
"Neato!" Scarecrow said happily. He made his way up the stairs and slid the card into the reader on the gate at the top of the stairs. The gate unlocked and Scarecrow pushed the doors open and continued moving. He hit his Envi-Camo (Environmental Camouflage) and walked down the hall...
A grey wolf slept soundly in his bed, a young mare sleeping soundly next to him, small scars along her back from where she had been whipped and beaten. Then, suddenly, they awoke from their sleep to gunshots and a loud scream! He jumped out of bed and looked around warily...there was nothing now...
He took a few wary paces towards the door, the small brown and white mare pulling the blankets to cover her and whispered to him.
"W-what's going on?" she whispered, her voice shaking. The wolf turned around angrily.
"I don't know! Now shut the fuck up!" he hissed and kept creeping towards the door. The mare looked taken aback and then pulled the covers over her snout. The wolf looked through the peephole on the door outside. He saw the empty hallway. There was nothing, no guards, no intruders...
Then there was a loud scream and a noise that sounded like a sonic boom! A guard exploded from the adjoining hallway and smashed into the wall! His body hit the wall and made a huge dent, wood splinters and shards of plaster flying like shrapnel! The wolf yelped and backed away from the door. He ran over to his nightstand and retrieved a large Desert Eagle handgun from the drawer. The girl gasped.
"What's going on? What's happening out there?!" she said, her voice laced with fear. The wolf pointed the gun at her, making her freeze in place.
"Listen Trisha, right now I need you to just shut the fuck up so I can deal with this...ALRIGHT?!" he yelled. She nodded her head, eyes wide, tears starting to form in the corners. Then she got up, shaking, and rushed over to her dresser to get some clothes. With her shaking fingers she managed to get a pair of jeans and a bra on. She wiped some tears from her eyes and then looked over at the wolf.
He looked through the peephole to see his assailant, but all he saw was the guard's body and the huge dent in the wall. As he looked around, breathing heavily, he noticed something move over by the far hallway exit. As all of his attention was focused on that one spot, he didn't notice the figure moving just under the range of the peephole...
"Boo!" Scarecrow growled quietly as he popped up right in front of the peephole, knowing his target could see him, and brought his heavy foot up to the door's body frame. The door exploded off its hinges, the wolf flying backwards with it and landing against the bed frame. Scarecrow rushed in and grabbed him by the fur on the back of his head, yanking him to his knees before delivering three devastating punches right to the face! The wolf coughed and sputtered, even spitting out three teeth before slumping over! Trisha screamed, cowering in a corner next to the bed. Scarecrow looked at her.
"Parental discretion is advised," he said and chuckled. He walked over to the wolf. "Martin "Marty" Picolloe...you seem to have changed since last we met, on to selling guns now? Whatever happened to those nice little drug fronts you had running? Wasn't working out, eh?"
"You know what they say; war is an expensive business for some..." Marty chuckled. Scarecrow grabbed him by the throat and lifted him to his feet, dragging him across the floor and over to his dresser where he slammed him against the top and held him there.
"Well then I suppose you've just gone bankrupt..." Scarecrow said and raised his arm high and flicked it slightly. A metallic click sounded and a long, smooth blade jumped from his sleeve. Marty's eyes widened. Trisha's eyes widened as well and she put her eyes under her arm.
The sounds that came from the dresser were brutal and demented. A choked scream cut short by a fountain-like spraying of blood and the sound of metal against flesh. After what seemed like forever, Trisha looked out from her arm. The bed blocked the dresser and the corpse that lay upon it, but the huge splatters of blood against the walls made it obvious.
Scarecrow stood up, Trisha could see him even hindered by the bed due to his height. He wiped the blood from his blade and then turned to face Trisha. He walked up to her, she started hyperventilating and trying to move further back into the wall. He walked right up and sat down next to her against the wall. She looked at him, eyes wide, completely terrified.
"So...what's your story kid?" he said and pulled a small, silver stick from his coat pocket. Trisha looked at him and then it and back at him. He looked over at her and she saw no eyes, just crosshairs moving on the eyepanels that allowed him to see out of his mask. She could barely talk.
"I...um...I-I uh...um..." she stuttered. Scarecrow rolled his crosshairs and looked away from her. He held the silver stick out to her.
"Here, little one...I think you need this more than I do," he growled and chuckled. She looked at the stick then at him. She shook her head.
"I-I...don't smoke," she whispered. Scarecrow laughed.
"Cute...you can drop the innocent act my dear," Scarecrow watched her hesitantly take the silver stick from Scarecrow's claw. She put it between her lips and then started shakily searching through her pockets. Scarecrow held up an index finger and flicked it against his thumb. A little spark shot from his finger then a small teardrop of flame appeared at the tip of his finger. Trisha looked shocked, but then just lit the stick and took a drag.
"Feel better?" Scarecrow asked. She half-smiled.
"A little...why...um...w-why did you kill M-Marty?" she asked and immediately hid behind her arm, expecting anger.
"I was asked to," Scarecrow said solemnly. "I was ordered to. Y'know...it's a tough job darlin' but someone's gotta do it."
There was a loud bang from downstairs. Scarecrow jumped to his feet and listened.
"What?" Trisha asked nervously. Scarecrow put his finger to his lips and moved towards the broken door. There was another!
"Fuck me sideways..." Scarecrow muttered. Trisha stood up. Scarecrow moved towards the window, Trisha close behind. "Well kid it's been a blast! Unfortunately those flashbangs down there don't mean the 4th of July...so I gotta split!"
"No! Please! I mean, take me with you!" Trisha grabbed his arm. He looked back at her.
"No touchy," he said and removed her arm from his. Trisha looked at him pleadingly.
"Please...they'll kill me if they find me up here with him...or worse they'll send me back to where I came from," she asked, tears forming in her eyes. Scarecrow guessed that would be bad...for her...
Time to analyze...
Target: young mare. Estimated around 17-18 years of age. Apparent long history of abuse accompanied with abandonment and potential drug problems. Copious amounts of scarring on lower back, arms, ribs, and chest, unable to see legs through jeans. No chemical substances currently in bloodstream or have been for 6 years.0
Problem: wishes to accompany you.
Risks: enemies might search for her, finding you in the process. What to do with her. Where to put her.
Benefits: Feeling of accomplishment. Could potentially allow for a distracter if properly trained. Is particularly attractive...could prove useful in the future.
This was over and done with in less than a minute...
"Please...I don't want to die, please take me with you," she pleaded.
Scarecrow thought for a moment until he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs.
"Dammit! Not a word though! You do whatever I tell you! Clear?" Scarecrow warned. He heard yelling.
"Yes! Yes! Yes I swear! I promise!" Trisha giggled with happiness and wiped tears from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around Scarecrow's neck and held on tight as he rushed forwards and leapt from the window! They fell from the second story and landed with an almost inaudible thump! There were soldiers everywhere around them...
"Silent alarm...must've triggered one. What do you think?" he turned to Trisha. Trisha was about to talk, but then pursed her lips and held a finger up to them. Scarecrow chuckled. "Good girl...stay right here understand?"
Trisha nodded her head and let go. She sat on the ground and watched Scarecrow shimmer and disappear...