In Which Jeshem Attempts to Write a Short Scene in Third Person

Which one?


  • Total voters
    3

jeshem

Cold, tired, sleepy
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
  2. 1-3 posts per day
  3. One post per day
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
  2. Beginner
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Genres
fantasy, scifi, modern, action
First time for everything. Here goes:

Wake up, wake up
The kid's out of it
Wake up, kid
WAKE UP

He gave a soft groan as his eyes began to flutter open. He remained motionless, his mind calm and empty until a white dove floated down and perched on his head. "Get off of me," he weakly muttered, waving his hand at the apparition. But the bird did not get off. Instead, his muscles tightened and shuddered as thoughts flooded his mind, bringing him back to the present. He was now aware of two other men in the room with him.

A large fist smashed into the his face making his head bounce painfully against the wall. As the ringing in his ears faded, he could slowly make out one of the men talking. " 'oo 'e talkin' to? Fink ya 'it 'im too 'ard?" asked the shorter man with some heavy accent.

His eyes eventually adjusted to the dim lighting of the room and he was able to observe more of his surroundings. He was sitting on the tiled floor of a dark room, restrained by his right hand handcuffed to a pipe which itself was attached to a stained wall of a windowless room. The only entrance and exit of the confined place appeared to be the metal door on the opposite wall from him. The room itself was completely bare save for a single wooden stool next to the door. Of the other two men, he observed that both of them were sharply dressed. The bigger, bald man seemed to be the one in charge, and the one responsible for his current predicament.

Ignoring his subordinate, the bald man painfully pulled the cuffed man's head up by his hair. "Did you think," he began, slamming the cuffed man's head into the wall. "That you could just come to my place, snoop around, and fuck. WIth. My. Shit. And leave as if nothing fuckin' happened?" The man painfully emphasized his rhetorical question by slamming the cuffed man's head into the wall several more times.

A knock on the door interrupted the man, followed by a muffled voice of a nervous man. "Mr Bronn? I know you said you didn't want to be bothered, sir, but Mr Davin is here. You said you wanted to meet him yourself, sir?"

'Mr Bronn' growled and released his dazed head, turning to leave. "Keep an eye on him, Clive. A close eye," Bronn said to the smaller man. "It's his head for your head. You have the keys?" Clive gave a quick nod, patting his breast pocket as he held the door open for his boss.

Once Bronn had left the room, Clive closed and locked the door before taking a seat on the only stool in the room. Meanwhile, the cuffed man recovered from his beating as he began to hear foreign voices mingling with his thoughts.

Told you this was a bad idea
If you had listened to me...
We're all gonna die
Listen to me!
If only...
I...
You...

These voices were drowned out as the black three eyed crow landed in front of him, burning its empty eyes into his own. "Well, dove, how are you planning on getting out of this one?" it clicked at the white bird still on his head.

Dove's eyes flicked around the room as his demeanor changed from a dazed prisoner to a cornered animal. "Have you tried brute force yet, dove?" mocked the crow. Dove closed his eyes and focused his mind into the cuff. It was too strong for him to telekinetically break. He opened his eyes again and glanced at Clive. If the man had the keys to the door, perhaps he also had the keys to the handcuffs. his power did not allow him to affect living bodies, not his own anyway, so attacking Clive directly was not an option. The stool however...

Using his left hand, Dove patted his jeans as if searching for something. He felt along the pockets on the front, then the back, then the front again. Clive immedietly took notice and cautiously got up from his seat to approach the prisoner. " 'ey, whatcha fink yer doin'?" he demanded.

As soon as Clive rose from his seat, Dove's left hand shot out. He could feel the stool, even if not physically, fall into his grasp. Closing his hand, he retracted his arm, telekinetically pulling the stool off the ground and smashing it into the back of Clive's head. Clive fell forward, knocked unconscious and within reach of Dove. Within several moments, Dove slowly pushed opened the door and took a step out of the room only to find himself on a balcony in a large, crowded warehouse.

Looking over the railing, stacks of wooden crates arranged in rows created an elaborate labyrinth beneath him but from where Dove stood, he could see the large figure of Mr Bronn speaking with another, equally built man in a clearing at the center of the complex. Crow also pointed out that several groups of heavily armed men also patrolled the warehouse. "So do we play stealthy this time or-" A cry from from his left caught his attention and turning to face the sound, Dove was faced with a pair of men dressed like Clive at the top of the stairs to the balcony. "Loud it is," cawed the crow preparing to take off.

"Not yet," responded Dove as he turned away from the black bird. He used his power to pick himself up and fling himself shoulder first into the first of the two men on the stairs, sending them tumbling down as the cursing crow flew close behind. Dove cushioned his landing with the bodies of the other men but was forced to dive away from a hail of bullets that flew too close for comfort.

Scampering into one of the countless aisles, Dove was met with a patrol of two men who had yet to process what was happening. With the element of surprise on his side, Dove telekinetically pulled down a stack of crates on the men, crushing them as he ducked into an adjacent aisle. In this aisle, a group of three men were prepared with automatic rifles which they began to fire immedietly upon seeing Dove. Dove instinctively toppled another pile of crates and ducked behind them for cover as the other three men began to advance while keeping up the suppressive fire. Patiently laying low, Dove waited for the men to get closer before vaulting over the pile of crates and sending a telekinetically backed fist into the face of the first man, feeling more than just a nose breaking. Continuing with his momentum, Dove grabbed the rifle of the first man and fired it at the other two. The second man was shot dead and the third man was quickly finished off with the butt of the gun.

Dove entered the clearing just as the rest of the patrolling men arrived, running back when they heard the commotion. In total, Dove counted at least fifteen men, not counting Mr Bronn and the man he was speaking to, armed with an array of shotguns, rifles, and submachine guns. The man who was speaking with Bronn, whom Dove assumed to be Mr Davin, was an older gentleman with slicked back grey hair that reached down to his shoulders and wore small green shaded spectacles. He was not as large as Bronn but he had broad shoulders and exerted an aura of strength and authority.

Mr Davin arched an eyebrow upon seeing Dove run into the clearing. "I thought I heard you say that everything was taken care of, Mr Bronn," he said in a controlling tone.

Bronn, meanwhile, had thrown his suit jacket on the ground and was rolling his sleeves up to his elbow, revealing his trunk like forearms. His bald head crimson with rage, he turned to give Mr Davin something of a mix between a grin and a grimace. "Everything is, sir," he forced himself to reply calmly. "Just give me half a moment to take care of this pest."

Mr Davin nodded and stepped out of the clearing towards the exit. "Well then, I trust that this won't take too long. I am a busy man, Mr Bronn."

Bronn charged like a bull at Dove, grabbing his escaped prisoner by the neck with a single hand and flinging him with ease into the center of the clearing. As Bronn charged again, Dove rolled from his back onto his knees and delivered a quick uppercut in between the large man's legs. A string of gibberish and curses escaped Bronn's lips as he fell forward, clutching his manhood. Dove rolled backwards, kicking his leg in an upwards arc and meeting Bronn's falling chin with his rising heel. The kick was enough to put the big man on his back though he recovered quickly.

"What are you halfwits doing?" Bronn roared at his men. "Are your guns for show? Shoot him!"

Time seemed to freeze as the barrage bullets approached Dove. He had no idea what to do. He could use his telekinesis to defend himself against one or two bullets but he could not do the same with so many bullets at the same time. He could do nothing. He was going to die. They were going to die.

Crow, sat next to a frozen Bronn's head gave an annoyed sigh before launching itself at the dove. Tackling the dove off its perch, it sank its talons into his skull. "This," cawed Crow to the dove. "Is why you should let me drive more often."

Time resumed and the barrage tore through Crow's clothings, reducing them to tattered shreds. Crow himself, however, remained unharmed as the bullets passed through him as if the men were firing at a mirage. The firing eventually died down, at which point Crow casually sauntered up to one of the men and phased an open hand into the man's head, appearing through the back of the man's head, holding his brain. Crow withdrew his arm, extracting the man's cerebrum without leaving any apparent wounds. The other men froze in stunned silence until one succumbed to his panic and started emptying the rest of his gun into Crow. As the bullets began anew, Crow calmly paced the room slaughtering the men. Most of them had an essential organ removed from their bodies though a few had a gun phased through their chests and one was forcefully merged with the ground. With all but one dealt with, Crow turned tangible again and faced a standing Mr Bronn with a sneer. "Well then, Mr Bronn. Shall we begin?"

Bronn made the first move, charging low. Crow, in response, flipped over the man, landing behind him and kicking the back of one of his knees. He jumped onto Bronn's back, wrapping his arms around the thick neck in an attempt to put the big man into a chokehold but he was promptly grabbed and body slammed onto the concrete. Crow's power saved him from a stomp which would have surely crushed his head and he quickly rolled over onto his feet. The slam had left him breathless and he would not be surprised if something had been broken by the impact. Bronn, however, had only been enraged even more by the kick.

"Are you going to actually fight or just keep running, you little bitch!" Bronn demanded.

Crow hopped off the top of the head and onto a shoulder, looking at Dove and inviting him onto the other shoulder. "Well? Are you just going to keep sulking or are you ready for some fun?" the black bird cawed to the white.

Dove looked up at Bronn. "This is going to be fun."

Both men met each other at full force, Dove's telekinetically matching Bronn blow for blow while Crow's intangibility made up for the difference between the two men's durability. In the end, however, Bronn was only a very big man while Dove and Crow was a man with superpowers. Slowly but surely turned to the favor of the two birds as he caught Bronn on the side of the head with an elbow, sending the bigger man reeling back. Refusing to let up the offensive, Dove and Crow spun around, landing the back of his fist into Bronn's jaw. A punch to the rib, a jab to the eye, another punch, another kick, another elbow.

Stunned by the flurry, Bronn fell to his knees and looked up at one he had captured, his eyes still burning without fear. He knew he had lost but he was not afraid. "Well then?" he challenged. "Do it! Kill me!"

The dove and the crow looked at the man for a moment before replying. "You asked if we thought we could just come to your place," cooed Dove.
"Snoop around," cawed Crow.
"Fuck with your shit."
"And leave as if nothing fucking happened." Crow slammed a hand into Bronn's chest. "The answer is, yes."

Bronn's body stiffened for a moment before going limp. His body toppled backwards as Crow's hand slid out, holding the man's giant, crushed heart. Crow and Dove looked up at the aftermath and basked in the slaughter.

"I know you can hear me, 'Mr Davin'," he called out. "See me, even, with your fancy little cameras. I know the group you are part of and how you all like to think you're all so sneaky and undercover. I know why you were here and what Mr Bronn was keeping. I know he was not the only one." His eyes scanned the clearing until he spotted the reflective lens of a hidden remote controlled camera. "So go home, 'Mr Davin'. Go home and tell your friends that we're coming. They'll tell you you can all escape me, cover your tracks, disappear for awhile and rise up again anew somewhere else. They aren't completely wrong. You can easily escape me, I am but two. However, 'Mr Davin', when they do tell you that there is hope, that you can all survive, I want you to remind them. Remind them that they can never escape the Flock."

Dove and Crow exited the warehouse and into a fenced parking lot. It was a cool night but the street lights provided just enough for him to see tire marks made by a vehicle leaving in a hurry. He looked up and saw a barn owl sitting on the pole of a street light. It seemed to give him a short nod before turning away and spreading its wings to take flight. Dove and Crow knew and therefore the entire Flock would know. And nothing escapes the Flock.