The endless night.
A new beginning: Prologue.
Lights. All around. Swirling, blinding lights. And sound too. Blaring sounds that deafen the ears to all around. A cacophony of lights and sounds that blind and deafen the mind to what is important. To what matters. Huge monstrosities of metal, glass and rubber roar past, leaving whirlwinds that are only blown apart by similar monstrosities.
The wind blows hard in this place, this world of light, sound and confusion. A simple thing that people take for granted. That people find annoying. That people sometimes fear, for it can be a mighty destructive force. And yet, sometimes, it can be a refreshing breeze on a summer's day.
The ground below my feet is not is cold, hard and ungiving, an unnatural thing that man has wrought from the ground itself to make his cities, to make his world his own. And yet, even his mightiest cities have no command over a simple breeze, and so it fears. It fears the destruction of its life, as does every living thing, yet this fear goes beyond that. It goes above simple instinct, above primitive emotion. This fear is that of oblivion.
And yet, here I stand, on the edge of chaos, on the edge that is oblivion, for I stand face to face with the grim reaper himself, to look death in the eyes and defy him to the last. What good are words when in this instance, the soul itself is judged. What good are words, simple sounds that are adapted to the society around us? What good does it do to converse with that which will ultimately be your demise?
Not much. But it does serve to sooth one's nerves on this cliff edge. And so, I converse with my Grim Reaper.
"So. This is where it all ends, huh? This is where you choose to end it all?"
"Aye. So I do."
"I see. And just... what are you planning on doing once I die? Go on killing? Will you give up your game? Or will you die yourself, for lack of a worthy foe."
Words have no real meaning, except to convey the defiance that lies in all of us. To make it understandable to those who cannot understand anything else. Thus is the point of words, this is the reason why we speak.
But, as to the reason why I am facing down my Grim Reaper? Why I face down death himself? It is a long tale. But I suppose I had best tell this tale, so that you may understand that which leads up to this place, this edge of an abyss that is oblivion.
********
Cold. Yet there is a warmth in the air that is unnatural. Heat that is manufactured from the smelting of metals to make tools. A cold autumn's air warmed by the smelting plants of man. In the industrial area of one of his cities, one that shall go unnamed, two figures dart through the night on a risky adventure to find something interesting to brighten their dull existence. What they don't know is, they are about to fall into a heap of trouble.
Before I get too far into this tale, I might as well tell you a little about myself. I am the narrator, yes, but I am also one of the main characters. And this? This is the tale of my adventure. One of many, I assure you, but the only one that really matters.
One of the two figures, the taller of the shadowed pair, a male named Chris darted across an allyway, his silohet illuminated by a constantly burning flame. He had no idea why it burned, he only knew it might give them away. Once he was in the safety of the other side, he beckoned for his companion to cross.
The smaller of the two, a female named Kiran, darted after, crouching low to try to avoid being seen as much as possible. It was useless, this stealth, because no other soul was around to spot them as it was. But it was still a good idea, at least at the time, to try to be stealthy.
Chris was one that didn't like adventure very often, but when the stirrings in his soul got to him, he had to break free of his metaphorical binds and escape into the world to experience something other than what he had chosen. His physiche was what some females would call somewhat dashing, with a strong chin, broad shoulders and kind eyes that seemed to welcome anyone and everyone around him. His hair was touseled most of the time, for he didn't really care about it much, yet his clothing was kept clean and positioned just right.
His posture was a habitual stance of pride, his back straight and his shoulders as broad as he could comfortably make them. This was his habit, the way others saw him. When they looked upon him, they saw his skin, yes. They saw his clothing, yes. But they also saw in him a peace of mind and strength of spirit that doesn't normally come to young men.
Kiran, on the other hand, loved to take risks. She loved adventure, the heart pumping throb that went with chaos, the rush of adrenalin that made her giddy with excitement, both sexual and the regular kind. Hers was the type that made some feel intimidated. Her physiche was that that some males would look upon as petite. A fairly short stature, but well rounded in proportion. She was one that would tease a male, then leave him hanging, but give him a kiss on the cheek to make it seem okay.
Her posture was one that was also prideful, though not quite as much as Chris. Hers was one that made one think that she was glad to have her particular body, and was more than happy to show it off, as her choice of clothing revealed. She didn't wear skimpy clothing. At least, not very much anyway.
Her style was more along the lines of biker, meet punk, mixed in with a little school girl. In other words, she wore a denim vest that was frayed around the edges, but with a couple pockets hidden here and there for small items. It saved her from wearing a purse, which she loved. This was worn over a simple white belly-exposing top. Her pants were full length, down to her ankles, but vanished mid calf into a pair of straped black leather boots that were made for more gothic style girls.
She kept the pants up with a simple belt, made from the same material that the pants were to keep it fairly hidden, then overlapped it with a much more stylish and flashy belt that hung off her hips. She didn't wear too much makup, only a little eyeliner and mostly kept her red hair back in a ponytail. She had a tattoo, a family crest that her brother had designed for them. It was located on her left shoulder blade, as that was the only place their parents would allow her to get one. Her brother had one as well, the same design, but his was on his left bicep.
"Easy to get, easy to hide." They had said in the end as they relented to their pleading and badgering. They both had agreed, since it was a sentimental design anyway.
Her dark green eyes flashed in the red flames as she crossed the allyway, joining Chris on the other side.
"So Chris. Where to now?" In the shadows, her voice rang out, a soft and obviously feminine tone that nearly screamed training. When she was younger, her parents forced her to take music lessons, and indeed, singing was a good past time for her.
"Unknown. Pick a direction. Any direction." His voice boomed in the reverberating allyway, sounding like he was speaking as loud as he could without shouting, even when he was talking softly. He didn't have the training she did, but had some musical talent, but we shall not go into that now. His own light blue eyes searched the shadows for any way they could go, searching and marking details in case they needed a quick escape.
Due to a learned habit of trying to be prepaired for nearly everything, he had started to pay close attention to as much detail as possible, marking things that others would not, such as positioning, and how things look. As such, he had an innate ability to see things in his mind's eye, to examine possabilities if something happened at one spot or another.
As such, his clothing reflected his choises. He had large pockets, but with a small amount of tools within, such as multi tools, a perfect example of which would be a Swiss Army Knife. He dressed simply, chosing to wear a simple pair of denim pants, designed in mind for carpenters, with pockets and loops galore for tools. He wore sneakers instead of his sister's choise, for the ease of which he could step and not make noise. His shirt was a simple t-shirt, designed for comfort, but tucked in to keep it tight. Partly for ease of use, and partly to show off.
In the allyway, Kiran looked around, searching for some place they could go to find something to explore. They both knew the forge was too hot for their tastes, so they avoided it. They also knew that while they were exploring, not to get caught in anything that could prove dangerous.
"Why not this way?" She pointed over her shoulder towards abandoned district. "We havn't gone there yet."
A shrug from Chris spoke volumes to her. He didn't really care where they went, as long as they learned things. Things about how this place was planned out, how it used to be used for. Things to that nature. He didn't like to make noise when he did anything. Call it paranoia, call it whatever you will. He was more naturally silent than flamboyant, as was the case with Kiran.
With a short jerk of the head, she lead off, turning on her heel and making for the abandoned sector, her brother ghosting along behind her.
They both wound their way around equipment and supplies, through old concrete pipes and barracades. They climbed over spools of steel wire and fiber optic cable that were stacked in their way. In the shadows, their eyes adjusted more fully to the darkness and they could see the ground a lot better, and the litter that was strewn over the older areas of the industrial area.
Papers, cups, syrophome, everything that could be there was there. Or so it seemed to them at the time as they wandered. They made their way to a particularly older building, one that seemed to be the first one to be forgotten as they expanded. They, being the ones who owned and ran this park.
They approached silently, keeping to the shadows and keeping, for the most part, out of sight. Chris, being the taller one, looked in through the musty window, trying to see through it's dirty pane. He could see nothing in the old warehouse, not with the state of the window and the deep shadows inside.
So with a finger to his lips, he took out his multi tool and opened one of the attachments. He slipped it into the old lock of the door, and jimmied it around a little, finally smiling in success. With a silent chuckle, he twisted the handle, opened the door and gestured inside with his arm for Kiran to enter first.
What awaits them? Who knows. That...is another part of the story.