The Fallen Angel

Discussion in 'Art & Creative' started by Sigurd, Mar 14, 2010.

  1. Sigurd

    Sigurd Internet Dig Dug

    This is one of my stories I write when I have time to (which is very random and minimal). I just want to know what you guys think, what you guys believe I should work on and what is good. so without much left to say here is the first chapter.

    The Fallen Angel
    By
    Serene

    Chapter 1: Unclear past​

    I awake to the sound of my alarm clock; it was seven in the morning as if I had set it to about five hours previous. I quickly get up and turn off the blaring noise that was emitted. My bed was on the floor and my alarm clock was on the stand that was out of my hands reach even if I sat down on my back, it was a design that I used to actually force me to get up in the morning and not sleep through the day if I did turn it off on my back.
    Getting out of my rather small room, I head down the adjacent hallway and go into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I was only eighteen, and yet I could see signs of my age being double the amount, there were scars across my once gentle face. My eyes were somewhat devoid of the jubilant energy that they should possess. My once bright brown hair has become more of a darken color, more than likely a black. My last five years have been hard on me, in fact they are the only five years that I remember, I can’t recall anything past my tenth birthday, I don’t really pay to much mind to it for it’s an obstacle on my job to think about anything else but the objective.
    I reach down to grab the toothbrush that I stole about a month back, and grab the toothpaste that I also stole. I could care less, I stole something big deal, it’s not like it’s the end of the world to me. I have done worse in my life, things that would make the common person vomit right on the spot.
    I kill people; it’s more of a forced job than anything else though, I actually enjoy the assassin job as much as men enjoy sex. I knew ages ago and still know, that I am going to hell, it‘s nothing that I really go crazy over. Though I still ask questions about myself, like is there really an afterlife, or is there such a thing as recreation. I always ponder this question as I sit in my bed with only the darkness of the outside world to accompany me as I wait to pass out.
    I have killed countless people in the past eight years. Some people do not know that I actually commit these sins on them, killing them in their sleep with a gun or slitting their throats and watching the blood spill from the agape hole that I just recently cut open. Then there are some people that I kill while they are awake, it is somewhat more of a challenge due to trying to keep the person quiet while you poison them, or snap their necks off and let their limp body fall to the floor in the dead of the night.
    Gender is something I do not exclude from; some assassins in the trade actually do only target males. However it’s not good for yearly profit because the people who do kill females get paid the more due to the fact the contractor knows you can take any job which makes you more deserving of the higher salary. I remember one time, this one job, it occurred a year back but it has withstood the last year and still haunts me to this day. I killed pregnant women on this job, as I was told too by the baltic group, a mafia organization based out of China, using a Japanese name to throw off police. However, no one informed me she was carrying a baby. Nonetheless, I still killed her slitting her throat while she was awake, the blood spilled onto my hands and splattering on my face as the dam of blood was released. These actions define me, and myself, if I never killed anyone, what would I be, a nothing, I have no past, no present, and more than likely no future. That is what I have determined as I look at the mirror.
    As I said, the baltics, or abbreviated the KK, is an organization based out of Hong Kong China, with ties to the Chinese government. Some people in the underground even believe that they are the puppet masters pulling the strings on the Government. Though that is complete rumor and possibly propaganda to help try to stop them. I don’t know many if any of the main figures of the KK, I only know the many people who were given the task to relay the information for the various assignments that I was to carry out. The most recent person that I know is a mid twenty year old man named Lance. Now Lance has one thing different from any other person that I’ve had as my relay person. He has green hair, which makes him stick out like a sore thumb, but his skills I would say are second to none.
    There was an event that occurred a few years later, something that still to this day I have wondered, and questioned. It was four and a half years ago around the month of March, I was fourteen when the KK decided to give me this assignment. The task was rather simple and easy when I heard about it. The goal was to kill an entire family that consisted of a father, mother and daughter that I heard was my age. They told me they didn’t care how it was done because they already have a way to make it look like a planned killing thought out. Since there was no wrong, way in the art of killing this time around I decided to shoot them all in their sleep with a silencer equipped nine millimeter. Making the job simple, easy, effective, and most importantly to me, safe both in terms of health and being caught.
    Now before I began the mission I did some information gathering on the father, paying no real attention to the mother figure since as Lance put it “she seems typical 1970’s cook and clean mother. So don’t bother with her.” The Father figure turned out to be a one David Nairne. He was a military scientist for Melinor technology, one of the premier business corporations in the United States, and a main figure in International business. I heard that they have been doing a lot of business under the table, in recent years with various groups, both legal and illegal, including some Governments. I guess a few of them were barracades that the KK would like to get rid of.
    The infiltration was easy the door was left unlock. I slowly walked through the hallways noticing that this home had a heavenly air in it. Though I didn’t stop, rule number three of being an effective assassin, don’t stop to look around unless it’s needed just make notice of specific landmarks. Taking too long to absorb the surroundings can mean being caught and being killed. In addition, it hindered by ability to hear the sounding ambiance noting if something was out of place.
    I walk up the stairs after noticing that no one was currently sleeping on the bottom floor. Quietly walking up the stairs making sure not to wake up anyone, which could jeopardize the mission, well not really, there are already three plans that are effective if someone notices me while I go up the stairs.
    There was one door slightly opened, showing the subtle moon light that came from the window that actually went through there. My guess was that this room was the daughter’s room and that the room to the left of the staircase was the parent’s room because there was no third door and no basement. Walking up to the door, making sure that no one was up and I was about to make myself known.
    Then I finally open the door after about a minute’s preparation to make sure that no one was awake when I was to open the door. I was right with my previous guess; this was the room the parents used as a place to sleep.
    Calmly and quietly I enter the room paying no mind to anything but the target’s they were sleeping in the same bed like most couples do, but they were separated enough to where I could probably get two clean shots without waking the other up. I unloaded my custom-made Jericho 941 semi automatic pistol. The pistol was made in Israel, despite my like of American made weaponry; this is the only pistol I use during missions. I had a few features added to it; a silencer was added to it for these kinds of jobs. Most of the other features are there, .41 AE cartridges that hold about ten 9 MM rounds; I usually carry three clips on me. Might lack ammo but its recoil is outright unnoticeable, and the stopping power at the top of it’s class
    I aim the handgun, I never bother with an added scope or laser pointer, it would just be extra weight, besides I never miss. Finally, I fire the gun twice in succession, moving slightly to the right after the first shot to make sure that I hit the wife. I tuck back my gun after a minute, walking up to their bodies checking to make sure that I killed the targets. Which I did, two clean shots right to the center of their forehead, going right through. I sigh and get ready for the last part of my job, killing the daughter when I hear.
    “Mom, Dad,” the girl whispers softly walking into the room and right by me. “I heard something, are you okay?”
    How she could have heard those two rounds I fired a couple of minutes ago, I ask myself. The walls and the doors should have provided enough of a sound nullifier to make sure that she would sleep perfectly and not be disturbed as I walk over to her room and finished the assignment.
    “What’s wrong mom,” she ask moving her now dead body, but she didn’t know that until she noticed the bullet hole and the blood leaking to the bottom of it. Then she looked at me with a sense of anger. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS, WHY DID YOU KILL THEM.”
    For the first time ever during my time as an assassin, I felt remorse, normally in this situation I would fight her and snap her neck. Now I don’t know what to do I felt ashamed, not because I let this happen, but because she was the first person to dig through my tough mental barrier that I’ve develop during the two years previous. Standing there as she walked closer to me, her face now blood red with anger, she grabs me by the throat and tries to strangle me, but she can’t. She let’s go soon after and goes into the corner and starts to cry over the death of her parents, occasionally screaming. “I’LL KILL YOU.”
    This probably would continue for the rest of the night if it weren’t for a faint sound, it was a police siren, I was here for too long, my contact called the police telling the incident. I snap back into my senses somewhat, but not completely as I walk over to the girl, and say, “You need to come with me.”
    “Why should I come with you,” she states tears rolling down her red face. “You killed my family, you’ll probably kill me.”
    “I have no time for this,” I state getting out my Jericho again. “Come now or I’ll shoot. Something of which I’d rather not do.”
    “So you’re saving me because I did something to you,” she asked. I hate her so far she has been able to read me like an open book and tell of my motives. “YOU KILL MY MOTHER, YOU KILLED MY FATHER, YOU EFFECTIVELY ENDED MY LIFE. WHY SHOULD I NOT JUST DIE HERE AND SEE MY PARENTS IN THE AFTERLIFE.”
    “What is the afterlife,” I ask her solemnly putting back my pistol. “Do you know what it is.”
    “No.”
    “Do you know that you will see your parents again when you die.”
    “No.”
    “Then why not come with me and continuing living a life that you know quite fully, instead of going into an unknown afterlife.”
    “Ann,” she began after thinking long and hard about it. She got up and walked to the door. “That’s my name, Ann Nadeen Nairne.”
    “The name is Spike,” I state tucking her name and motive for why she’s coming in the back of my mind. “Let’s get going, my contact just called the cops to complete the job.
    That morning I told my contact a guy named Eric about what happened and he wouldn’t except me taking a $2000 pay cut from my already $6000 starting amount. Instead, he said that he wanted all of them dead and I would get no money, I then proceeded to snap his neck, take his money, and set some charges and blow up his building about a mile from the house.
    The first month was the hardest on me, she would get up late, and I thought seven in the morning was normal for people my age. Then to add insult to this injury of not being normal with my age group (in certain non-Assassin ways). She would attack me with a kitchen knife and yell “I’LL KILL YOU.” I don’t think she was awake when she did this however, because she never could recall this. Now today we are on terms though I still fell that she has it out for me, but she doesn’t want to kill me openly.
    “Spike,” Ann’s voice yells out snapping me out of my memory trip. I notice that I have been brushing my teeth too hard again as blood was oozing out of my gums and into the sink. I reach for the glass cup turn on the faucet and drink some water. “You have been in there for way to long, get out.”
    “Sorry about that,” I state getting out of the bathroom to allow her to get in. “Just thinking.”
    “Don’t think now,” she states. “You leave yourself open.”
    “I know,” I tell her as I walk away and she enters the room.
     

  2. Sigurd

    Sigurd Internet Dig Dug

    Here is Part 2:

    Part 2: Holy Valkyrie

    Finally after what seems like forever, I get into the bathroom after Spike probably stopped having a flashback, an event that is becoming ever more frequent in the past year. I shouldn’t be caring about him right now, I need to get ready for a lunch meeting for my next mission. Spike prefers to call them what they actually are, assassinations. I try to make the line of work that I’m forced to partake in seem less violent than it actually is.
    The mirror is my greatest friend right now since it is telling me the way I look and how I should change it to look more like an actual person, then someone who kills and sometimes forgets to wash the blood off if it’s late enough. In comparison to Spikes’ face that seems devoid of almost any sign of being fifteen. My face still looks like its age as I notice that I actually don’t have blood on me today. I comb my blood red hair, I do remember being a red head, and this hair doesn’t smell like a dead body so I guess that’s my color. My eyes are light blue, reminding me of a nice water front.
    I walk back to my room, this apartment that me and Spike share is rather small but it at least has two rooms in it so we aren’t forced to share a bed. My room, unlike me, is always clean, it’s something I OCD over. If it’s not clean to my level of satisfaction it’s not good enough for me. Sometimes this level of cleaning would even make a germ phobic scream. Other times it’s a little messy, but not terribly messy.
    There are a few things in this room, a bed, a bookcase, and a night stand. The bookcase contained most of the books that I like to read. I don’t read as much as I did before the event that happened three years ago to me, it’s the reason why I’m living in this hell.
    Oh yeah my name is Ann, Ann Nadeen Nairne, and I’m living with the person that killed my parents about three years ago. I look over to my night stand to see the last taken picture of me and my parents. The last remnant of a happy past that is constantly tugging on the string in my heart. We were at a local restaurant on a sunny day. We were all happy and smiling, I was in the middle wearing my favorite shirt at the time, it was light blue and had nothing on it. My father, David and my mother Polly were on the left and right side respectively.
    “I’m sorry you have to see me this way,” I tell myself believing that I am talking to them in heaven. “Being with you killer, living with him, actually enjoying his company. Watching me kill other people, just like he did to you. I do this all for you, I know you probably think that revenge in this way, shape, and form is not worth it, but you didn’t have to watch as he shot you both in your sleep, had to see the ruthlessness behind his eyes.”
    That night three years ago or so will live on with me as a wound. Open and harmful, it will never close fully, the way that I want it to be. However, any sort closing is better than the open pain that I feel from my soul.
    It was a calm night, the moon was out, it was in the middle of the summer. That night my parents were arguing again, they have been arguing for the past month but this time it seemed more like my father was pleading with my wife, to have her and me leave. She refused to leave even when she was told my him “The Fallen Angel is coming soon.”
    The Fallen Angel is Spike’s assassin name, there really is no ethical reasoning behind the names, you just pick something that sounded cool to you. Like my name for example, which is The Holy Valkyrie.
    While my parents were discussing their options I was outside the entire time, hearing everything. I was completely confused, not knowing what any of this technical garble was.
    I have always been good at hiding and sneaking, making sure that I was not noticed. I was in kindergarten and we were playing a game of hide and seek. I stayed hidden the entire recess which was about half an hour.
    I proceeded with heading back to my room and sleep. My room was a haven to me during the last year, which has been the time period that my parents have been arguing. I would read when they were, which was a good two or three times a week at least. Now living the life of an assassin I learned some of the deeper darker secrets of my father.
    David, my father was a member of a secret military project done by Melinor Technology, which was and still is the biggest supplier of military and non military technology, buying out Microsoft and Gates when I was five. The projects name was Project Valkyrie, which in some sense is probably where I took my assassin name. It was designed to make super soldiers though a way that I never could find out. The results of the project were never actually recovered. In fact most people don’t even know it existed, even I only know the project by name, only due to walking in on my father while he had that information out.
    I went to sleep, and started to dream. Soon my dream turned into a nightmare. My parents were in their bed, that’s all that I could see. Then a man, about my height came into the room, and walked closer and closer, moving ever so silently. He has a sword on his back and a pistol in his hand ready to fire. I tried to yell, practically screaming. “WAKE UP, SOMEONES HERE TO KILL YOU.”
    However my cries were not head by anyone, and the murder fired two shots hitting them both square in the head. I stood their, feeling tears rolling down my eyes as the man, encrusted in black armor, like the night, walked by me and went out of the room.
    I woke up about a minute later, but to me it felt like an eternity of watching the same five seconds over and over again while my heart is being torn open. Sweat rolled down form the center of my forehead right into my mouth. The entire dream felt all too real, so real that my body felt like an empty shell, the dream had scared the soul right out of me. I wanted to make sure that my parents were okay after this nightmare. I get to their door it was on the other end of the hallway here on the second floor. I sneak a peak through the slightly opened door, and soon stood their paralyzed by fear.
    The man in my dreams, the demon that had killed my parents was actually there inside the room. My blood ran cold, colder than I ever thought that it could happen. I slid through the slightly opened door trying to get a better view without being noticed. The man had not drawn his gun yet. I released a sigh of relief inside my mind, he still hadn’t killed them, which gave me time to alert them to their impending danger. There was a red dot on both of my parents heads, all my hopes were shattered with that dot for it was leaking a red color that was similar to that dot itself. It was blood, my parents had already been killed.
    “YOU MURDER,” I yell not even caring for my own safety, for me there was no safety, I lost it with two simple bullets to the head. I run up to my parents dead bodies. My feet give out as soon as I get there. Breaking down I start to cry uncontrollably, nothing compared to the pain that I felt at this moment.
    The man who had killed my parents just stood their, as if I was not to be apart of the equation, as if I wasn’t even worth being noted. My sadness soon was replaced with nothing but blind emotionless rage. “I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS.” I finally yelled out. “WHY DID YOU KILL THEM?”
    I got up, my movements guided by this new anger I ascertained. I get right in front of the killer, seeing into his bottomless pits of eyes, and finding only a comforting darkness inside of them. There was no sadness, no wish to do this different, just an empty feeling coming from his.
    I start an attempt to strangle him, but with all my I could not bring myself to strangle him. I wanted him to suffer, suffer worse than just simply killing him right now. I let go of his neck and walk into a corner and sit there. After about a half an hour the man comes close to me.
    “Get up we need to leave,” he tells me as he extends his hand out.
    I slap his hand away. “YOU KILLED THEM, YOU KILLED MY ONLY FAMILY WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU.”
    “Because you have no one to trust, no hope left,” he said pointing a gun at me. “Come now or I can collect my full payment.”
    I still don’t know why but I left with Spike that day, to guarantee he feel some sort of retribution for his actions that evening. The true answer, even I the person who made the choice, might possibly never know.
    I leave my room about to leave for the meeting that I had to attend that day. I prayed before I left however, I prayed for my parents hoping that one day they would see justice, either by killing Spike, or learning of the contractor and whether or not he had died. I also prayed for Spike oddly enough, I prayed that one day he could possibly see the light, the true meaning of a world without the need of a cold heartless assassin. A world which has been kept from him like a book to a child.
     
  3. Asenka

    Asenka Registered Member

    I want ask you... Are you want be writer? Sorry but i don't read your story while... I don't know English so much... but it interesting for me that i read..))
     
  4. barutiwa

    barutiwa Registered Member

    I like young writers. They give me a fresh idea of pending new trends that are in the making. Sigurd, I think it will be a good idea to create a shorter version of your stories specifically for posting on forums. That way you acquire more loyal readers who can grasp the main thrust of your stories quickly and post relevant comments for your digestion.
     

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