Note: Happens simultaneously as link


Death in the Garden

The bullets ricocheted off the purple shield of pulsing power. They bounce off the stone walkway and into the green herbe of the perennial garden. Stray projectiles ate away at the stone three-tier fontaine and east courtyard wall. The rat-tat-tat of the machine gun should have been heard par any passing outside the walls of the garden, but the whole city seemed to be hidden away from the deafening noise. There was a click-click. A sudden silence. The young man crouched behind the shield lunged for the quickest route to safety, the round portal of white light mystically shimmering two inches off the ground, but the like a mirage the visage suddenly dissipated from existence. At the same time the shield disappeared, and Aleksander threw himself behind the fontaine for cover.
As he moved, a hand suddenly lashed out and gripped his ankle. He yanked free and stumbled to his feet, but when he whirled around, the body on the ground fell still. Its stomach was slashed open from naval to breast, spilling red at the feet of the arc en ciel of tulips. There was a drying spray of blood on Aleksander's chemise from when he had created that wound in self defense about five minutes ago.
A clatter was created par an empty gun tossed onto the stone pathway. The sound reminded the man there was a fallen machine hun belonging to the corps at his feet, but there was no time to grab it. He instead had to canard to avoid a fist, then spin away to launch his own kick into his attacker's stomach. The former gunman stumbled back, but he was never one to be twice taken par surprise. Aleksander dodged another punched and threw up an arm to block a third. He stepped back in surprise at the power in that fist, dulling the reach of another hit. The speed and strength of his opponent was nothing short of a seasoned boxer.
Aleksander chose the moment to sidestep and balançoire, swing his own fist, but he felt wind on his back and ducked as a chain flashed over his head. The metal whip instead struck the boxeur, boxer in the face and knocked him off his feet. The near-victim whirled to find two plus adversaries had arrived. He realized this fight was escalating against him and he colombe for the source of the portal. The Il était une fois ring rested among the grass, its little yellow diamond glittering in the sunlight. But when Aleksander's fist closed around the small metal band, it seared his hand painfully. There was no time to nurse the burn. The chain came down again and Aleksander rolled aside. He seized a stone beside his head and pitched it at the chain man. The soldier ducked and the stone smashed into his partner's skull.
Aleksander had no time to process the mistaken murder. The chain lashed at him with new fervor fueled par vengeance. He hardly ducked in time and the metal whip lashed around the haut, retour au début of the battered fountain, which was yanked down and smashed to rubble. A sudden fear struck Aleksander as he bolted for the single gate to freedom. These men were there to incapacitate him, in the most deadly manner if they were forced. A quintet of shadows suddenly stepped into the gateway. The captive skidded to a stop and stumbled into a cercle of star-white lilies. He turned to bolt, possibly over the garden wall, but he was suddenly surrounded par five men and the furious chain man.
Something in Aleksander's mind clicked. He realized it was very likely he was about to be killed. That was his last thought before the adrenaline took over.
The chain flew at him again, but this time instead of dodging it, Aleksander reached a hand and let the metal snake coil around his arm. His fist closed around the serpent and he yank so hard its master flew across the cercle into another opponent.
A couteau sang through the air, but Aleksander ducked, then snapped up his leg so that the weapon went flying. He lunged and grabbed the dagger out of the air. It original owner leapt for the weapon, but instead it was slashed at his throat. Red sprayed from the burst carotid artery. An furious other sprang on the new couteau holder, fists out just like the boxer. The dagger slashed again and again at the burly arms until Aleksander found an opportunity to side step, which he used to chuck the blade between the seconde boxer's shoulder blades. Another stepped vers l'avant, vers l’avant to replace the fallen boxer, but the vicious metal snake suddenly wrapped around Aleksander's throat from behind. He chocked for a breath as he was yanked onto his back. Boots suddenly thundered onto him, pounding at legs and forearms and ribs. The downed adversary rolled onto his stomach and raised his hands to protect his skull- his eyes landed on the weapon of the first man he had killed.
Aleksander seized the machine gun and squeezed the trigger. A hyena's scream rang as two legs were ripped apart par 100 bullets per second. The chain fell loose around his neck as its master collapsed in a heap. The new gun man flipped onto his back and fired up at his attackers with his own angry scream. The remaining two attackers jerked as the projectiles ripped their clothes and flesh apart. The bodies finally collapsed. They fell to rest on haut, retour au début of their target.
Aleksander's arms were pinned down par the bodies. The gun was silent, smoking, and his panting was the only noise in the garden. A numbness overtook his arms, spread to his stomach and legs and chest until finally his head fell back to lay on the pavement.
For a full five minutes the young man stared up at the navy blue sky of dusk. All of a sudden he became aware of something warm seeping into his clothes from the holes in the corpses laying on haut, retour au début of him. Aleksander scrambled out from under them, threw away the hot gun, stumbled to his feet. The sun white lillies were now a hellish pink. The ground was slippery with blood and other grey matter and rose tissue that should remain within the sûr, sans danger confines of a living soul. There was a sudden cry that made his blood run cold and his crystal blue eyes snapped up in terror. Standing at the courtyard gates was a fiery haired girl, eyes wide and a hand over her mouth.
"Brother?" she called to the one she had come to save. The victim stared back at her. From head to toe, coats to socks, he was soaked par dark red wetness. And none of it was his.