Blue Wings

The rain never stopped falling. Thoreau looked over his shoulder, and stopped running. He appeared to be alone now, in the middle of the side alley he took when fleeing away. He started to walk, the drenched trousers of his expensive suit clinging to his legs, slowing him down.

Everything had happened so fast, he still wasn’t sure what had happened. One moment he was getting out of the hotel, his favorite bodyguard, Kibo, holding the umbrella open for him, and when he looked up at her to thank her gesture, she already had no head. A red shower splashed him, and he looked over only in time to see another of his guard’s head vanish. Then he heard the detonations, incredibly loud, and the last one of his guards pushed him away, and he started to run, not knowing what else to do.

He still breathed in short, hard gasps, watching the rain spatter all around him, trying to look all around for danger. He had always sort of expected this would happen, but he could never bring himself to believe it, and now, it was really happening. He was about to die, in the middle of an alley, on a cloudy and rainy afternoon.

‘I am terribly sorry, Mister… Thoreau, is it not?’ He spun, droplets of rain flying off his hair. The voice had come from a tall figure in the back of the alley. ‘The circumstances of my employment forced me to use those…rather spectacular means to remove your guard. I am usually fairly more discreet, though I do know how to employ force, as you just witnessed.’ Thoreau was suddenly reminded of the blood and brain matter being washed down his face by the rain. ‘W-who are you!?’

‘I believe I can tell you that, yes, as it will not matter much to you in a few moments. My name is Zefiel, and as you may have gathered, I am an assassin for hire.’ The tall figure came closer, every movement natural and fluid, like a huge cat stalking a prey; and Thoreau could see him, dark hair and skin, light stubble covering the stark features on the hard face. He wore a long coat of a strange fashion and simple cut. He carried in one arm a huge sleek rifle, almost as tall as he was, raised high, the dark silver color gleaming under the rain. That was undoubtedly the cause of the horrible detonations, and certainly one could see why his guard’s heads had merely vanished.

‘Who is doing this? I can pay you, too! You don’t have to do this!’ ‘I am afraid I do have to carry on with my work, I have a …reputation to maintain, you do know. The fact that I am carrying on with my work in the precise way I was required to is the reason you are here talking to me, and not in the afterlife already.’ He smiled a little as saying this, and Thoreau couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of that huge rifle being used on him. ‘Yes, I have a message for you. Death is too good for you, but it will have to do, to get you out of the way. You have caused too much pain already.’ With that said, the rifle went down swiftly from the raised position to aim at him, and Thoreau was both blinded and deafened by the powerful report of its fire. He fell back, unable to feel his stomach. The last thing he saw, before the world turned into pain, and then darkness, were wings, beautiful blue wings, spreading somewhere after him.