Wednesday, 10 August 2011

Target Acquired

Butterflies stood watching her target -- a short, curly-haired boy named Jonathan, the self-proclaimed king-of-the-club, swing a terrified blonde around him in a tight circle and abruptly released her. She staggered face first into the flopping belly of one of his goons. The poor girl dragged herself up, and at the merciful nod of Jonathan’s head, she staggered out the door and the trio laughed drunkenly. Jonathan propped his legs up on the table and rapped it with one knuckle. The waiter hurried over to take his order.

Butterflies rubbed the back of her neck thoughtfully, thinking what the best way was to get rid of him. An up close and personal method works. She preferred it anyway. She also got to eliminate the two goons. Which, in her opinion, would be a good riddance.
She heard Jonathan shout out, to the newbies in the club perhaps, “So anyone else wanna take me on?”
Butterflies made sure her jade knife and bow were at the ready, then she turned around, her long, dark hair that streaked white swishing behind her. She looked him straight in his green eyes, and said, “I’ll take you on.”

Jonathan sipped his vodka, raised a brown eyebrow and said, “Come on.”
Then she was in front of him. He was so startled that he tipped back over his chair and spilled his drink. The goons had tried to reach for her, but they ended catching thin air and slammed chin first into each other. They slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Jonathan fell to the floor and tumbled. All at once, Butterflies was at his side, helping him up with a vicious wrench to the arm. Then she backed off and Jonathan growled, looked for her. She was so damned fast, she didn’t feel human.

Then there was a whish of movement to his right. He turned and brought his fist upon nothing but an afterimage.
“Where are you looking?” A sweet, mellow voice asked from behind him, and he turned, only to slam his chin into a granite fist. Butterflies’ fists accelerated and she hit him repeatedly in the gut. All air left Jonathan and he could feel his ribs breaking. Before he had a chance to draw another breath, an elbow was whipped to his face, a knee to his stomach and a foot to the small of his back. He bounced back up and backed off, wincing in pain, gasping. He saw her and he smiled.

“How old are you anyway? You don’t even look a legal age to be here.” He asked with great difficulty.

She arched an eyebrow. “I may look this age, but I’m way older than it. I’m way older than you too.”

“Oh really. Let me guess. You’re…. 14.”

She smiled, her teeth sharp. “Wrong.”

“How can you be older than me? I’m 23.”

“I’ll tell you the truth. I’m 274 years old. I’m a necrotic vampire. I’ve been assigned to kill you. And now that you’ve heard this, I’m pretty sure you have to die.”

He gasped again as he was immediately hit from behind. “Can’t follow me now can you?” her sugary voice breathed into his ear. He whirled, but she somehow wasn’t there. He tried to remember what he had learned about vampires…. They change form…. They move really fast… He was hit again on the middle of his spine and he felt it pop. “What are you thinking of?” Her voice smiled, and he knew she was right behind him. “It’s dangerous to stall in a fight. That’s the first rule during a fight.” She caught his wrists and twisted them behind him with inhumane force. He dropped to his knees to ease the pain. “Now. My moment.” She withdrew a dark green knife from within her shimmering black coat. “Time to die.” She raised the knife up and plunged it. It went into his spine and separated the segments. She twisted it savagely and Jonathan’s vision turned black.

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