Post by Fenix Sole on Apr 18, 2009 11:44:37 GMT
Fen had been sat in the same alcove, drinking the same concoction and listening to the same convocations for over 4 hours now; head drooping, pupils dilating, headache growing. Life was spiraling out of control for him. London was spiraling out of control, so was his wife. Another sip in the shadows, the cool but sour liquid swilled down his throat and with that his troubles. The alcove was set in a stone wall, filled with a harsh wooden table and two harsher wooden chairs. The pub itself represented a tiny old church, the once holy alter was now extended as a bar and the stained glass windows had been smashed and replaced with ruined wooden planks and because of this small streams of light broke through. Small gas lamps illuminated only a tiny portion of the room.
Fen banged his head against the table and tried to forget everything but almost instantly another bar brawl rose out an argument about payment. Punches were thrown, shouting, breaking of chairs, glass. Fen ignored most of it, moping in his own problems, but then a body crashed into his table, smashing his multiple glasses and throwing his backpack across the room. Everyone stopped, mid fight and stared and the figure pushing himself up from his ancient chair, groaning and wincing. They all took a step back and another as he reached beneath his coat. Murmurs swept through the throng and cries leapt here and there when he pulled a bronze coated, rusty pistol. He held it towards them cocking it at random people and snarling. He stepped out of the alcove, still holding the pistol in front of him, and confronted the group. The man who had broken the table had rolled out of the alcove and back into the group before Fen stood up. Fen knelt down and held the pistol to his head.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" roared the man, who had panic in his eyes.
"Wouldn't you like to know..." as he pulled at the trigger.
"FCUKING ASSASSIN!" screamed the man.
"Not any more" Fen growled.
He pulled the trigger and stared at the smoking mark left on the stone floor.
He stood, roared at the crowd and ran out of the open door into the night, but he didn't get far...
(tis crap but i needed to contribute something)
Fen banged his head against the table and tried to forget everything but almost instantly another bar brawl rose out an argument about payment. Punches were thrown, shouting, breaking of chairs, glass. Fen ignored most of it, moping in his own problems, but then a body crashed into his table, smashing his multiple glasses and throwing his backpack across the room. Everyone stopped, mid fight and stared and the figure pushing himself up from his ancient chair, groaning and wincing. They all took a step back and another as he reached beneath his coat. Murmurs swept through the throng and cries leapt here and there when he pulled a bronze coated, rusty pistol. He held it towards them cocking it at random people and snarling. He stepped out of the alcove, still holding the pistol in front of him, and confronted the group. The man who had broken the table had rolled out of the alcove and back into the group before Fen stood up. Fen knelt down and held the pistol to his head.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" roared the man, who had panic in his eyes.
"Wouldn't you like to know..." as he pulled at the trigger.
"FCUKING ASSASSIN!" screamed the man.
"Not any more" Fen growled.
He pulled the trigger and stared at the smoking mark left on the stone floor.
He stood, roared at the crowd and ran out of the open door into the night, but he didn't get far...
(tis crap but i needed to contribute something)