ponyrl
02-15-2006, 02:50 PM
The Wraith:
Messaged Delivered
By R.S.P.L.
'They guarded him well,' the Wraith thought to himself as he moved through the shadows near the main wall surrounding the mansion of the Cobra. He was there to tell the Cobra that his presence was not going to be tolerated. Metro city was his and none that brought pain and suffering to the people of his city, would have a long life. A warning, he was aiming to give in person.
The guards the Wraith was spying on, were blocking his way. The moon
shined brightly overhead. Shadows made it possible for the Wraith to hide, but it was that same moon that made the night bright enough to show his movements out beyond the bushes. There was a ten yard sprint from the wall to the nearest French-styled double doors where the Wraith could enter, but the security was tight, and Maxwell’s diversion hadn’t been set off. Maxwell Horton was the Wraith’s go-to man for most of his tech and in this instance, his best way of getting rid of the guards presently in his way.
“Check. Guard’s one and two checking in. Everything’s all quiet here. Nothing to report,” said one of the guards wearing black nylon and black combat boots. The gray round helmets had night-vision visors installed in the goggles behind them. Since they had no idea that the Wraith was in eye shot of them, they had no need to keep them on.
Guard number one lifted the vision, searched through his pockets, and pulled out a Marlboro and a blue plastic Bic. He slipped the cigarette between his lips, smiling at the expectation of the taste of nicotine filling the walls of his lungs.
“Hey, put that out man. You know the rules, no smoking when we’re on guard watch. The Cobra wouldn’t like that.”
Guard number two frowned, pulled out the cigarette, held it by the end lacking the filter, and stared at it with a pout. “I know, I know, but I’m dying for a butt. If you don’t tell, I won’t. What do you say?” If the Wraith had a sense of humor, he’d find these two laughable. But he was on a mission, and these two, though slightly comedic , were in the way of completing it.
__________________________________________________ _____________
Maxwell’s hard, callused hands tightened the last screw on his fifth flash grenade. He and his chariot, sat hidden off behind two large green sycamores that were eight feet from the main gate entrance where security was heaviest. Maxwell thought about the times he stood behind the Wraith, stood, and supported his savor, being his right hand, helping him, and sometimes returning the favor of saving him from the wounds that are inflicted upon him during his war on the injustice that soaks the city in its filth.
__________________________________________________ ___________
Maxwell had this timed out to the last second. All he needed was the right moment, and the grenades equipped with noise amplifiers to give the bang more of a distraction, would give the Wraith his chance.
“I’ll never forget London. Every chance I get, I’ll repay you for then.” He’d find himself whispering to himself before he charged into the breach along side the Wraith. He slid up the well-worn brown leather jacket, looking at his watch, waiting.
The Wraith slid back the end of his gauntlet looking at the watch underneath. His and Maxwell’s watch was in sync with each other. They’d set them before they had started this operation. The Wraith looked up, squinting at the still-bright moon. He pressed the optical modifiers that Maxwell had installed into his cowl. Setting one was to shade bright light. The lenses helped the Wraith to see the cloud movement. A shadow colored cloud started to move over the moon. The Wraith pressed the lenses back up, returning his attention to the two guards, preparing.
__________________________________________________ _________
“There are those that challenge my rule, thinking they could stand, lording over all that I own and survey. Those that think they may have this kind of strength, let them speak now. This is an open forum.” The Cobra sat erect, within his personal meeting room that was decked out in fifth century Persian rugs and hand crafted Ming dynasty blue & white vases that sat on either side of his projection monitor. His desk was made of solid jade. An impossible thing to get considering the time and money involved in obtaining such great amounts of jade. But money as it appeared, did not have much sway over the Cobra. His voice commanded your attention, his presence sat heavily upon the seven under-bosses that sat at the crescent shaped meeting table on the other side of the LCD screen, connected to a remote location somewhere within the city.
“I’ve got a problem, yeah. What I want to know is, why we have to deal with an outsider like you when this city, Metro city, was ours before you even came. I’ve had my piece of the pie for a long time, why am I gonna give up that to you?” His name was Ronny Stafford. Mid-level boss that controlled the docks of Metro city. Anything coming into Metro city by way of the sea, came through Ronny Stafford.
The Cobra, with his long, strong fingers, tapped the console of his updated red cedar swivel chair. His dark black hair, sat upon his head, complimenting his short-cut goatee. He had a cobra tattooed over his scarred right eye, and with his left, spied and read the looks of the other six men, searching out their thoughts written on their faces. He could tell that some of them thought the same way, felt the same way, and doubted his control. Some probably thought that his enemy, Robert Latham, Conglomerate of Latham Industries, was the only power in town. The only game they had to play.
Then there was this figure, skulking in the shadows, pestering both he and Latham. A demon with glowing eyes men had spoken. A figure that struck without warning, floating between the shadows, and striking hard and fast. This thing, this unknown Wraith as one jabbering stooge ran at the mouth about, was becoming a thorn in the claw of both he and Latham.
The Cobra, 6 foot 10 inches of muscular force, stroked over one of the buttons that would activate the electric surge that ran underneath each chair with enough power to fry ten men. Sometimes, the Cobra had learned, an act of force had to be shown to keep the troops in line.
He was about to show them what power was all about.
“If you have an issue with how I wish to assist you all in our equal endeavors, then by all means, let us discuss further your distain at my taking the reins of leadership.”
His long finger hovered over Ronny’s chair when……..
An explosion shook the outer rooms of Cobra’s mansion. He heard the noise, but the vibration did not disturb the board room.
The Cobra was very displeased about the interruption and wondered who had the gall to attack his home.
“Gentlemen, you must excuse me. Something has come to my attention and I must attend to it.”
Ronny Stafford grinned a large smile on his small white teeth. “You go do that. The chickens have come home to roost my friend. Good day.”
“Excuse me?” The Cobra was about to question Ronny what he’d meant, but the line was disconnected.
Another explosion went off. The Cobra’s chair turned toward the large tapestry on his left. He tapped the third button on his console, and the tapestry slid silently, off to the right.
“Report to sector one! Explosions have been verified in sector one! Move, move!” the report came in over the earpiece of guard one.
“Let’s move!” Guard one moved at a running pace, MP-5 held at waist high. Guard two was close behind. The bright red of his cigarette, smoldered on the spot where he once stood.
The shadow of the cloud blocked out the bright glare of the moonlight, giving the Wraith his chance. Ever the supreme athlete, the Wraith sprinted across the yard, his cape bellowing behind him, not flapping, silent as falling leaves.
Pressed up against the mansion wall, the Wraith decided to use one of Maxwell’s newest toys. The tips of the Wraith’s gauntlets had micro-sized circuitry that could sense and interfere with electrical impulses. ‘Thanks to an inside informant, I was able to gain knowledge of the schematics of the Cobra’s lair. His security system may have given even Maxwell some trouble in figuring out. Though I’d never say that to Maxwell. Why hurt his pride?’ thought the Wraith as he pressed his fingers near the hinges of the double doors. The sound of fizzing metal, a small click, and the double doors slipped open with barely a whisper.
The Wraith slipped in, ducking and sliding in & out of the large inner rooms of the Cobra’s mansion. At the foot of a winding stair case was a division of armed guards dressed in the same fashion as those outside. The Wraith was itching to make his presence known now.
The guards were in for a world of pain.
__________________________________________________ _________
‘I’m glad I added those electrical interference circuits to the design of these flash grenades. They’ll help keep most of the Cobra’s monitoring systems down. Plus interfere with the night-vision in the guards rigs.' Thought Maxwell as he took the sign of the passing cloud over the bright moon as the sign of him to start the distraction.
‘Go get him Wraith! Go in there and show him that his kind isn’t wanted in our city!Maxwell thought this as he tossed the grenades at the front entrance. Various other explosives were planted around the general area so the oncoming guards couldn’t get a bead on his exact location. Stun grenades were also on Maxwell’s list of gadgets to try out tonight.
“What the devil’s going on out there! I was busy in a meeting and was not to be disturbed. Report!” Cobra was yelling into the house microphone that was also connected to the radio receivers within his private army’s headsets.
“I’m sorry sir! There seems to be a number of explosions happening at the front entrance. Most of the men are reporting there now. I ordered a contingent to stay out front of your meeting room just in case. I’ve the situation under control, my liege.” Commander Orlin Levee spoke with a practiced confidence over his helmet microphone. He knew that he had to keep the Cobra calm or he'd be made to pay for it later.
“See that you do! I’ve business to take of and do not need the appearance of weakness in front of these fools I have to temporary deal with. Whatever’s wrong, handle it!” –SCKIRSH- was the noise that the Cobra’s microphone made as his long thumb released the switch.
The Cobra thought to himself, ‘Who would have the nerve to try and invade my sanctum. Whoever it was will pay most dearly for this transgression. Ronny Stafford might be someone who’ll have to be dealt with before I can get a stranglehold on the inner workings of the underworld here. His part would be the most powerful. Nothing can function in a city without access to the sea. Life is in the sea, so there’s power!’
The Cobra pressed his chair’s console, agitated that the entrance monitors weren’t working.
First came a muffled sound. Then a loud explosion, and the marble office doors flung open, slamming into the wall hard enough to put cracks all the way down to the foundation of the room’s walls.
A fog slithered passed the open doors, creeping, stalking, crawling its way into the meeting room, constricting around the legs of the jade table, then around the strong and muscular legs of the Cobra.
Surprise riddled the smooth face of the Cobra in waves of creases.
A voice, deeper, harsher, reverberated through the meeting hall.
It was the voice—of the Wraith.
“Cobra!” spoke the Wraith in a low rumble. “I have something you need to hear! And you will hear it—whether you want to or not!”
A sharp elbow to the sternum. A swift right open palm strike the jaw. The Wraith was striking the soldiers of Cobra like leaves in a hurricane. The guards, though brave enough for an ordinary foe, were no match for the blinding speed of a Wraith hell-bent on delivering his message to his intended.
“Stop him! Whatever he is!” One guard said, and then he was hoisted up and over the Wraith’s head, and flung like a rag doll to the floor below. The Wraith grabbed the next guard’s gun, turning the barrel towards him, hitting the clip release button, shoving the barrel into his stomach, dropping the guard to his knees. The Wraith balanced like a gymnast’s horse on the guards back, swinging his powerful legs, kicking three guards off the winding staircase, joining their friend below. The last guard was shaking, his knees clacked together hard enough to be heard, and sweat fell in large drops from underneath his helmet. He could barely hold his gun, which became useless as the Wraith football tackled him, flinging him up and over his head. The guard let loose a scream that was soon muted by the hard thud he’d made on impact with the foot of the staircase.
The Wraith kept on running, searching through his tunic, finding the mini-explosives and special gas grenades Maxwell always kept for the theatrics that came with creating the fear and legend of the Wraith. ‘Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot!’ He though to himself. To feed upon that fear, he had Maxwell come up with the fog gas. It was heavier than ordinary smoke, and made for a eerie effect. That, along with his own fearful powers as the Wraith, made the scene such as this, come off without a hitch.
The Wraith hurled the mini-explosives and fog gas at the towering solid black marble doors that the layout he’d memorized said was the Cobra’s office.
‘Now he shall know fear! The Cobra shall know fear, and learn to fear my anger, my vengeance, my wrath, he shall know the power…….
Of the WRAITH!’
The bombs hit. The doors shook. A gust of wind was created as the doors flung open. The Wraith’s cape moved, bellowing out behind him.
His walk became slow, steady.
He was ready to deliver his message!
The end
I have a better formatted version on my hard drive.
;)
Messaged Delivered
By R.S.P.L.
'They guarded him well,' the Wraith thought to himself as he moved through the shadows near the main wall surrounding the mansion of the Cobra. He was there to tell the Cobra that his presence was not going to be tolerated. Metro city was his and none that brought pain and suffering to the people of his city, would have a long life. A warning, he was aiming to give in person.
The guards the Wraith was spying on, were blocking his way. The moon
shined brightly overhead. Shadows made it possible for the Wraith to hide, but it was that same moon that made the night bright enough to show his movements out beyond the bushes. There was a ten yard sprint from the wall to the nearest French-styled double doors where the Wraith could enter, but the security was tight, and Maxwell’s diversion hadn’t been set off. Maxwell Horton was the Wraith’s go-to man for most of his tech and in this instance, his best way of getting rid of the guards presently in his way.
“Check. Guard’s one and two checking in. Everything’s all quiet here. Nothing to report,” said one of the guards wearing black nylon and black combat boots. The gray round helmets had night-vision visors installed in the goggles behind them. Since they had no idea that the Wraith was in eye shot of them, they had no need to keep them on.
Guard number one lifted the vision, searched through his pockets, and pulled out a Marlboro and a blue plastic Bic. He slipped the cigarette between his lips, smiling at the expectation of the taste of nicotine filling the walls of his lungs.
“Hey, put that out man. You know the rules, no smoking when we’re on guard watch. The Cobra wouldn’t like that.”
Guard number two frowned, pulled out the cigarette, held it by the end lacking the filter, and stared at it with a pout. “I know, I know, but I’m dying for a butt. If you don’t tell, I won’t. What do you say?” If the Wraith had a sense of humor, he’d find these two laughable. But he was on a mission, and these two, though slightly comedic , were in the way of completing it.
__________________________________________________ _____________
Maxwell’s hard, callused hands tightened the last screw on his fifth flash grenade. He and his chariot, sat hidden off behind two large green sycamores that were eight feet from the main gate entrance where security was heaviest. Maxwell thought about the times he stood behind the Wraith, stood, and supported his savor, being his right hand, helping him, and sometimes returning the favor of saving him from the wounds that are inflicted upon him during his war on the injustice that soaks the city in its filth.
__________________________________________________ ___________
Maxwell had this timed out to the last second. All he needed was the right moment, and the grenades equipped with noise amplifiers to give the bang more of a distraction, would give the Wraith his chance.
“I’ll never forget London. Every chance I get, I’ll repay you for then.” He’d find himself whispering to himself before he charged into the breach along side the Wraith. He slid up the well-worn brown leather jacket, looking at his watch, waiting.
The Wraith slid back the end of his gauntlet looking at the watch underneath. His and Maxwell’s watch was in sync with each other. They’d set them before they had started this operation. The Wraith looked up, squinting at the still-bright moon. He pressed the optical modifiers that Maxwell had installed into his cowl. Setting one was to shade bright light. The lenses helped the Wraith to see the cloud movement. A shadow colored cloud started to move over the moon. The Wraith pressed the lenses back up, returning his attention to the two guards, preparing.
__________________________________________________ _________
“There are those that challenge my rule, thinking they could stand, lording over all that I own and survey. Those that think they may have this kind of strength, let them speak now. This is an open forum.” The Cobra sat erect, within his personal meeting room that was decked out in fifth century Persian rugs and hand crafted Ming dynasty blue & white vases that sat on either side of his projection monitor. His desk was made of solid jade. An impossible thing to get considering the time and money involved in obtaining such great amounts of jade. But money as it appeared, did not have much sway over the Cobra. His voice commanded your attention, his presence sat heavily upon the seven under-bosses that sat at the crescent shaped meeting table on the other side of the LCD screen, connected to a remote location somewhere within the city.
“I’ve got a problem, yeah. What I want to know is, why we have to deal with an outsider like you when this city, Metro city, was ours before you even came. I’ve had my piece of the pie for a long time, why am I gonna give up that to you?” His name was Ronny Stafford. Mid-level boss that controlled the docks of Metro city. Anything coming into Metro city by way of the sea, came through Ronny Stafford.
The Cobra, with his long, strong fingers, tapped the console of his updated red cedar swivel chair. His dark black hair, sat upon his head, complimenting his short-cut goatee. He had a cobra tattooed over his scarred right eye, and with his left, spied and read the looks of the other six men, searching out their thoughts written on their faces. He could tell that some of them thought the same way, felt the same way, and doubted his control. Some probably thought that his enemy, Robert Latham, Conglomerate of Latham Industries, was the only power in town. The only game they had to play.
Then there was this figure, skulking in the shadows, pestering both he and Latham. A demon with glowing eyes men had spoken. A figure that struck without warning, floating between the shadows, and striking hard and fast. This thing, this unknown Wraith as one jabbering stooge ran at the mouth about, was becoming a thorn in the claw of both he and Latham.
The Cobra, 6 foot 10 inches of muscular force, stroked over one of the buttons that would activate the electric surge that ran underneath each chair with enough power to fry ten men. Sometimes, the Cobra had learned, an act of force had to be shown to keep the troops in line.
He was about to show them what power was all about.
“If you have an issue with how I wish to assist you all in our equal endeavors, then by all means, let us discuss further your distain at my taking the reins of leadership.”
His long finger hovered over Ronny’s chair when……..
An explosion shook the outer rooms of Cobra’s mansion. He heard the noise, but the vibration did not disturb the board room.
The Cobra was very displeased about the interruption and wondered who had the gall to attack his home.
“Gentlemen, you must excuse me. Something has come to my attention and I must attend to it.”
Ronny Stafford grinned a large smile on his small white teeth. “You go do that. The chickens have come home to roost my friend. Good day.”
“Excuse me?” The Cobra was about to question Ronny what he’d meant, but the line was disconnected.
Another explosion went off. The Cobra’s chair turned toward the large tapestry on his left. He tapped the third button on his console, and the tapestry slid silently, off to the right.
“Report to sector one! Explosions have been verified in sector one! Move, move!” the report came in over the earpiece of guard one.
“Let’s move!” Guard one moved at a running pace, MP-5 held at waist high. Guard two was close behind. The bright red of his cigarette, smoldered on the spot where he once stood.
The shadow of the cloud blocked out the bright glare of the moonlight, giving the Wraith his chance. Ever the supreme athlete, the Wraith sprinted across the yard, his cape bellowing behind him, not flapping, silent as falling leaves.
Pressed up against the mansion wall, the Wraith decided to use one of Maxwell’s newest toys. The tips of the Wraith’s gauntlets had micro-sized circuitry that could sense and interfere with electrical impulses. ‘Thanks to an inside informant, I was able to gain knowledge of the schematics of the Cobra’s lair. His security system may have given even Maxwell some trouble in figuring out. Though I’d never say that to Maxwell. Why hurt his pride?’ thought the Wraith as he pressed his fingers near the hinges of the double doors. The sound of fizzing metal, a small click, and the double doors slipped open with barely a whisper.
The Wraith slipped in, ducking and sliding in & out of the large inner rooms of the Cobra’s mansion. At the foot of a winding stair case was a division of armed guards dressed in the same fashion as those outside. The Wraith was itching to make his presence known now.
The guards were in for a world of pain.
__________________________________________________ _________
‘I’m glad I added those electrical interference circuits to the design of these flash grenades. They’ll help keep most of the Cobra’s monitoring systems down. Plus interfere with the night-vision in the guards rigs.' Thought Maxwell as he took the sign of the passing cloud over the bright moon as the sign of him to start the distraction.
‘Go get him Wraith! Go in there and show him that his kind isn’t wanted in our city!Maxwell thought this as he tossed the grenades at the front entrance. Various other explosives were planted around the general area so the oncoming guards couldn’t get a bead on his exact location. Stun grenades were also on Maxwell’s list of gadgets to try out tonight.
“What the devil’s going on out there! I was busy in a meeting and was not to be disturbed. Report!” Cobra was yelling into the house microphone that was also connected to the radio receivers within his private army’s headsets.
“I’m sorry sir! There seems to be a number of explosions happening at the front entrance. Most of the men are reporting there now. I ordered a contingent to stay out front of your meeting room just in case. I’ve the situation under control, my liege.” Commander Orlin Levee spoke with a practiced confidence over his helmet microphone. He knew that he had to keep the Cobra calm or he'd be made to pay for it later.
“See that you do! I’ve business to take of and do not need the appearance of weakness in front of these fools I have to temporary deal with. Whatever’s wrong, handle it!” –SCKIRSH- was the noise that the Cobra’s microphone made as his long thumb released the switch.
The Cobra thought to himself, ‘Who would have the nerve to try and invade my sanctum. Whoever it was will pay most dearly for this transgression. Ronny Stafford might be someone who’ll have to be dealt with before I can get a stranglehold on the inner workings of the underworld here. His part would be the most powerful. Nothing can function in a city without access to the sea. Life is in the sea, so there’s power!’
The Cobra pressed his chair’s console, agitated that the entrance monitors weren’t working.
First came a muffled sound. Then a loud explosion, and the marble office doors flung open, slamming into the wall hard enough to put cracks all the way down to the foundation of the room’s walls.
A fog slithered passed the open doors, creeping, stalking, crawling its way into the meeting room, constricting around the legs of the jade table, then around the strong and muscular legs of the Cobra.
Surprise riddled the smooth face of the Cobra in waves of creases.
A voice, deeper, harsher, reverberated through the meeting hall.
It was the voice—of the Wraith.
“Cobra!” spoke the Wraith in a low rumble. “I have something you need to hear! And you will hear it—whether you want to or not!”
A sharp elbow to the sternum. A swift right open palm strike the jaw. The Wraith was striking the soldiers of Cobra like leaves in a hurricane. The guards, though brave enough for an ordinary foe, were no match for the blinding speed of a Wraith hell-bent on delivering his message to his intended.
“Stop him! Whatever he is!” One guard said, and then he was hoisted up and over the Wraith’s head, and flung like a rag doll to the floor below. The Wraith grabbed the next guard’s gun, turning the barrel towards him, hitting the clip release button, shoving the barrel into his stomach, dropping the guard to his knees. The Wraith balanced like a gymnast’s horse on the guards back, swinging his powerful legs, kicking three guards off the winding staircase, joining their friend below. The last guard was shaking, his knees clacked together hard enough to be heard, and sweat fell in large drops from underneath his helmet. He could barely hold his gun, which became useless as the Wraith football tackled him, flinging him up and over his head. The guard let loose a scream that was soon muted by the hard thud he’d made on impact with the foot of the staircase.
The Wraith kept on running, searching through his tunic, finding the mini-explosives and special gas grenades Maxwell always kept for the theatrics that came with creating the fear and legend of the Wraith. ‘Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot!’ He though to himself. To feed upon that fear, he had Maxwell come up with the fog gas. It was heavier than ordinary smoke, and made for a eerie effect. That, along with his own fearful powers as the Wraith, made the scene such as this, come off without a hitch.
The Wraith hurled the mini-explosives and fog gas at the towering solid black marble doors that the layout he’d memorized said was the Cobra’s office.
‘Now he shall know fear! The Cobra shall know fear, and learn to fear my anger, my vengeance, my wrath, he shall know the power…….
Of the WRAITH!’
The bombs hit. The doors shook. A gust of wind was created as the doors flung open. The Wraith’s cape moved, bellowing out behind him.
His walk became slow, steady.
He was ready to deliver his message!
The end
I have a better formatted version on my hard drive.
;)