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Fafnir Chapter Four - Anger, Passion, and Hatred
Posted By: KnightmareWolf<KnightmareWolf@aol.com>
Date: 26 August 2002, 6:08 pm
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A soppy atmosphere of grieving, wounded souls forever marred, teary eyes shed never-ending streams; the loss of a brother or son, a lifelong companion and dear friend.
Such was existence for those few assembled that day, that fateful time of mourning.
"And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil."
Autumn had come, come at last to make their lives more miserable.
"For thou art with me."
The Carter family had requested their son be buried in Canada, a place he'd thoroughly enjoyed in life, so too would he enjoy in death;
"Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
Multi-colored mishmashes blew through the air, twirling and stepping to an unseen rhythm, entrapped within dances surely worshipping death.
"Thou prepare a table before me in the presence of mine enemies."
On did the reverend drone, and frankly, David couldn't give a flying fuck.
"Thou anoint mine head with oil; My goblet overflows."
He eyed the woman in the white coat with mild interest, he realized half-heartedly, that the man with the gray goatee and the bald, solidly built man with blue sunshades were fingering some kind of 9mm handguns.
Within his own world though, nothing could touch him; his brother was dead.
"He's basically done David, I can't delay any longer."
He nodded solemnly; slowly David Carter began to rise, soon being followed by that... woman and her lackeys.
She lead the way really, and he was more or less being herded around like a cattle. Pretty soon they 'd arrived, their intended destination reached at last. A single pelican drop ship, hovering silently a few centimeters above the ground. He didn't like these, his brother had taken him for a ride in one once; David was throwing up all day afterwards.
"If you don't mind, I'd really like it if you just lay your head back." One of the Lackeys, his voice was soothing. "I'll get you strapped in."
Each of those were tightly on him, as a matter of fact he could hardly breathe.
"Hold up man, you're gonna' feel a small prick, just remember, even breaths, unhurried actions, like you're laying your head on a pillow."
A sharp pain made itself known to him, even as some miscellaneous air current swept about, blowing several leaves into the 'Cargo Area', for all he knew.
Suddenly David realized how... tiring this was.
He saw his plain brown eyes, gray hair and goatee. He looked old but not old. David wondered how that was, possible, it was like - Blackness.
One Day Prior...
It had come at about 4:00pm, a call describing bad omens. Xavier didn't like bad omens, his friend was always on edge when they made themselves known.
"David what's wrong?"
His friend would then gently place the receiver on the hook. "Jamey's dead."
Xavier lowered his head in shame.
At this moment the winds would howl, the trees on the front lawn would wave about in hypnotic scale.
Each was a solid colored evergreen, standing mighty, standing tall, and measuring several feet skyward.
Within their front room David sat on Xavier's perch, falcon close by.
Being a homely place, with a gray plush carpet, clear blue walls, a gigantic stained glass window depicting an angel, their home fit the description of... funeral home.
Lying in the upper corner was a table, front and Center their sofa, opposite a Video Screen.
"David..."
He was crying, though attempting to hide it.
"It wasn't your fault." Xavier's wings fluttered.
He didn't really respond, just made a pitiful squeal as tears streamed down, hundreds of little crystals, translucent diamonds.
Truly, his eyes were soft pools of mud shrouded within small ponds. Such a pair was compassionate, now they expressed mixes of emotions, horror to curiosity, curiosity to wonder. Nostrils flaring, he began to sniff, periodic, inevitable.
"Big guy..." David trailed, voice cracked, throat parched, choked with salty sweat.
Emotions were powerful things; the falcon knew this, to see his friend in such a state made his tiny heart ache. "David I'm sorry."
"What do you have to be sorry about?" He snapped.
This rebuff caught him off guard; he stared in awe, his grip weakening.
Nothing more was offered, nothing more was received, being more or less one of those awkward times where silence was necessary, where souls ate each other.
Time is passing,
Winds howl,
Spirits afoul, praying nine aching time;
Angels mine courage fine,
Show them mercy; show them hate,
Clock tick seven, clock tick eight,
Grandfather nine, ringing time.
Dong...
"Xavier?" Voice is shaking; skin is flaking, throat is throbbing tears are clogging.
Dong...
His wondrous orbs swept ground level, coming to rest on those opposite, Xavier's beak quivered.
Dong...
"I'm sorry."
Arrogant fool! Pathetic fool, you are only human.
Noting his friend's eyes were still teary, the falcon proceeded cautiously, wary that the slightest mistake could cost him everything. "I know." He told him. "I know." By now it was quite dark outside, streetlights were non-existent, they lived on the outskirts, in the hills and mountains overlooking intertwining roadways.
Glancing to his left, Xavier noted that the clock on a nightstand to David's left read nine-thirty. How long had they been sitting there?
Strange, he mused. It had overtaken them; they'd sobbed for hours. Not that Xavier actually could cry, though he would have, had it been physically possible. Really, David's falcon companion had emotions; it was just that he couldn't express them, minus when hunting anyway.
Illuminating the room they currently occupied was a small ornamental lamp near the Video Screen, glowing dimly despite a half burned out bulb?
The falcon thought it was quite strange such a construct could do this, but shrugged it off. Such things weren't in his realm of interests. His were... Birds and women, women in particular but he would insist it was birds.
Xavier leapt away, gliding into David's room. He guessed that funeral and travel arrangements had already been made, judging as how he'd been talking on the phone for about two hours straight.
He didn't know how long he was lying there, but the lights dimmed then blinked off completely, followed by a muscular shadow laying itself to rest on the bed.
He didn't really speak at all, but it was for the better. Both were tired and grief stricken.
David...
A soft whisper, sensuous and alluring.
David...
The voice was quite suggestive, erotic, irresistible. But it wasn't right. Something was wrong.
He awoke then, rising slowly. The bed was soft to his bare upper-body; the lighting was bright, mild. It was night, about ten, wasn't it?
David slipped from his bed, noting that Xavier had rolled off his side, typical of him.
He jumped, momentarily startled at the sight of an alarmingly beautiful...
No that was wrong, flawless woman standing seductively before him, he got over it, she was so damn hot that he didn't really give a damn what she was.
She stepped forward, hesitant, cautious, afraid, and vulnerable.
He was on her in an instant, his lust uncontrollable, his instinct absolute; she did not flinch, did not fuel the fire. Shuddering, the woman accepted his touch.
Their kiss was deep, passionate, like something out of a romance movie. He brought his strength to bear, firmly yet gently he held her in his arms, his nose tingled with her enthralling scent, not perfume, something much more; Something natural, of gardenia.
Her breathing was calm; she tilted her head leftward, exposing her neck to him, granting submission. David leaned her body back, and she relaxed.
He realized she was wearing clothing obsidian black in color, yet it was so revealing she was practically half-naked.
He brushed a strand of equally black hair from her pale face as he released, and lay her on the feathered covers.
She took a breath, louder than the other ones.
Shivering no longer, wanting more.
David was happy to oblige; he pressed ever so closer, his lips locking firmly about her own.
Then something snapped, her eyes were no longer afraid, no longer full of pleasure and lustful wanting, they were cold, unforgiving and ruthless, eyes of deep impenetrable emerald scattered with silver sparkles.
Her features were not soft; they were beautiful and cruel. Her kiss was not that of a lover, but that of a venomous backstabbing snake.
Her teeth clamped about his tongue and firm lower lip, drawing blood. To her eyes he looked again, they were boring holes through him, anchoring deep into his soul, ripping it from his body.
He convulsed.
David could have easily overpowered this ethereal maiden, his strength was the greater, but how was he so helpless?
It was he who lay atop her!
The answer hit him like a wooden board flying through a brick wall in a windstorm.
It was his soul; she was stealing his immortal soul.
His mouth slid away, her death grip on it released. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, and cascaded from the woman's mouth like a waterfall.
She would smile then, even as David let out a blood-curdling scream.
He awoke shouting, crying out as he had in his dream.
A Dream, it was just a dream.
A small crackle startled him. A sapphire flash, a sapphire flash. Crackle. Flash. Thunder. Stabbing away at windowpanes were tears, no only rain. Crackle. Flash. Spraying tears! Soft crescendo, quickening torrent.
Weather patterns had changed long ago.
Power would doubtlessly flicker, would be cut at some point.
He realized he was wet, small droplets splashed about his body, he, just like his covers, was soaked.
The storm raging abroad was remarkably loud, until a stick hit him in the side of the head.
He turned to the window.
There was a hole in it, jagged, radiating evil like a sour odor.
David moved closer to inspect it, his forefinger sliding about the edges until a sharp pain pricked it, sending it away. Near that jagged hole, too on his skin was blood, his blood.
Impulsively he turned about, every blanket or spread was twisted at an odd angle, stained with crimson.
It looked as if who ever had shot had been aiming for him, but missed and hit something else instead. Seeing the blood he or she felt their job was complete.
Xavier, he knew. Xavier was dead.
Tears began anew.
"Hello Mr. Carter." Spoke the shadow, apparently using a voice scrambler of some sort.
He was so startled he screamed and leapt for the window, alas to no avail, two burly shades moved to block his path, flinging him away.
He looked on in horror, glancing from one tormentor to the next, his eyes wide with fear.
"You have two choices in the matter Mr. Carter."
He turned toward the speaker.
"You can either use plan A, die like your brother and pet here, or plan B, do as we say and live on, possibly leading the way to immortality."
It didn't take him long.
"B!" He cried. "Plan B!" A stifled giggle emanated from somewhere behind him.
"I thought you might."
David waited for some reaction.
Who were these people?
They'd come into his house undetected, killed one of his only friends and now they were.... Now...
"You will attend your brother's funeral as expected, following that you will accompany me and my associates to a waiting aircraft, where you will be transported to a secure facility to begin your task."
He nodded immediately.
"Speak nothing of this, my colleague has sealed the hole and replaced the broken pieces of your window, sleep well David, we'll be seeing you in a few hours." CRACK! PaIn FLaShInG Stabbing. Blackness SwEeT Restful Peace. Not so...
Pain! Unending, steady blunt sharp pain!
"Be warned Carter." A pause followed. "You will comply, or it will be very painful for you."
David nodded. "Xavier?"
Shadow number two slipped in front of him, speedily making his way to the door.
"No more."
A cover slipped over his head and a tight grew threw him to the floor, three sets were heard exiting the room. * * * * Morning managed to flow in swiftly, between cracks, past open windows...
He groaned, never fully realizing how hard a carpeted floor could be, until now. That was life, he guessed. Although David realized moving to his bed was possible; he didn't feel like spending the night with Xavier's Carcass.
Footsteps caught his attention immediately.
"Rise and shine sleeping beauty."
Full of mirth, deep. Sounded like a voice coming from someone named "Bubba."
Something hit him, quite hard really.
"Up, up, Cinderella!"
Two strong pairs of hands lifted him, throwing him into a corner.
"Pull the sheet of his face maybe he's dead." A Bubba again.
"I would be dead too if I had to smell your hairy ass all night long." Russian, but not Russian, Caucasian Russian.
"Yeah that's real cute Grigor."
"Any time Bubba."
Bubba, his actual name was Bubba?
Suppressing an urge to laugh was what he normally would have done, however considering those incredibly tight plastic thong type things digging into his skin every time he might have tried, David didn't even think of it.
The sheet was lifted from his body.
"Nope," Exulted Bubba. "Still alive!"
They herded him to the door, minding carefully various pieces of waste or discarded novels as they did so whilst eyeing him, then various parts of his house.
"Oh, Blender!" Grigor praised, snatching the miniature gray appliance up with one hand and holding a small flashlight in his mouth.
David couldn't see their features clearly, he still felt hazy.
Apparently they'd seen fit to ransack his house of anything they felt was remotely useful to them, seeing as how the Caucasian Russian just stole his 'fruit mixing super dicing machine of fruitiness.'
So much as they didn't paint his geisha doll -
Goobers Green. They pained his geisha doll Goobers Green.
Bubba threw him down, right next to his front door.
Grigor sniffed the air.
"Stank ass bastard." Bubba remarked. "Shove his ass in the' shower." Grigor was more than glad to. * * * * When he came out Bubba was waiting.
"Draw the towel off ugly, we got a suit for you."
David looked at him weirdly.
Bubba shook his head, clearly this guy wasn't up for this anymore than he was, none the less he was hesitant about letting a guy do it... What guy would do it? Well unless you were gay of course but...
He kicked David in the foot. "Come on man, I'm not gonna' jam my foot up your uh..." Ah, he was hesitant, this was good news indeed.
What did he have to lose?
He did so; he was wearing shorts anyway.
"Thank god." Bubba was visibly relieved, throwing him a suit he departed, slipping off to his living room.
It was solid in color, deep gray. Solids were always good, 'least it wasn't some plaid or velvet piece.
He slipped them on, combed his hair and basically did what he did for any other formal occasion, spiking his hair was a natural attribute that he wouldn't go without. He walked to the living room.
"Looking good little Cater!"
Bubba again, Grigor seemed to sulk in the shadows all the time, normally he wouldn't have liked being called little but in this case he would keep his mouth shut, Bubba's arms were as big as he was.
It was like, well, Bubba wasn't fat, David knew that, in fact he was muscular, fit like himself, it was just that his arms were as big as he was!
Seemed like it...
Stepping in front of him, Bubba proceeded to fix David's collar and choke him with a red and white/gray diagonally stripped tie.
"On the move, Limousine's waiting."
Grigor and Bubba followed him, blender and painted Green Geisha doll complete with mustache in hand.
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