Run?
?keep running?
??almost there.
These were Fabian's only thoughts as he raced across the desolate landscape for the two-story house atop the barren knoll. The scenery was a blur, the speed of his gait watering his eyes and muddling the details, but he didn?t let that stop him. He had to get in that house.
Inside was his freedom.
Inside was his sanctuary.
He didn?t know why he was wearing his Specter 7 bodysuit; a form-fitting Kevlar/nano mesh that clung like a second skin. It was engineered to stop most types of attacks, from heavy artillery to magic, offering the protection of tank armor with the weight and flexibility of spandex. It was cutting edge.
The figure that pursued him wore the same.
?don?t?stop?moving.
He reached the door and greeted it with a lowered shoulder, exploding through the rickety barrier to enter within. The haunted estate was as forsaken as the countryside that surrounded it, filled with darkness that was occasionally interrupted by slivers of moonlight peering in through the windows. He didn?t stop, racing for the stairs and climbing them quickly, catching sight of the man who followed him out of the corner of his eye.
He?d never been in the house before and yet somehow knew where he was going.
At the top of the stairs he cut right and darted down the hall, bypassing the numerous doors that lined the impossibly long corridor for the one at the far end. They opened, hands reaching out as he passed, trying to grab on and take hold of him. He pushed through and continued on.
A glance over his shoulder showed that from these parting archways poured more agents of Specter 7, all dressed in the same bodysuit as him, though theirs included the combat mask which completed the uniform.
?almost?there?
He reached the door at the far end of the hall and introduced himself to it much like the one in front. This one didn?t detonate in quite the same explosive fashion, though it did jerk open and swung wide, slamming against the adjacent wall.
There, in the middle of the room, was his salvation.
Beneath a shaft of random silvery luminance was a podium and upon it were two items: one a nickel-plated handgun, the other a clip.
Without hesitation he made his way there, scooping up the weapon. The weight of the clip felt off and with a glance he realized why. It only housed a single bullet.
?Don?t!?
The threatening command came from the door as the score of agents entered the room, swelling in and fanning out behind the lone figure who had taken the lead. The crimson lenses of his hood stared at Fabian harshly, their menace undeniable.
Fabian slammed the clip into the gun and chambered the lone round. ?Fuck you.? He snarled as he brought the gun to his lips, clenching his teeth around the barrel. He closed his eyes and, before he could reconsider, pulled the trigger.
Click.
Eyes snapped open and the gun slipped out, leaving Fabian to stare at the weapon in disbelief. Quickly, frantically, he put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger again.
Click.
?then under his chin.
Click.
...then against his chest.
Click, click, click.
?No!? He cried as he dropped to his knees, cradling the gun in desperate hands.
Why won?t you work? Why won?t you kill me and let me go?
The figure in front moved forward, not stopping until he towered above Fabian. With a lightning reflex he lashed out and snatched the gun from his hands, placing the barrel upon his temple.
?Because,? He answered those private thoughts as though he could hear them out loud, reaching back with his free hand to take hold of the mask. ??your mission isn?t over yet.?
Fabian watched as the mask was torn away, his breath hitching in his throat and his gaze widening with startled astonishment at who it was lurking beneath.
It was?him.
Paralyzed with fear, Fabian stared at the mirror-image looking back at him. ?Wha?what is my mission??
?You don?t know yet because you?re a sleeper.? His reflection replied, ?But if you?d like a hint I can give you one.?
Finally there was movement as Fabian nodded with a jerky motion.
The facsimile smirked and then whipped around, stepping out of Fabian?s line of sight between him and the door.
?Fi?Fiora??
There, standing in the doorway amidst the crowd of Specter 7 agents, was Fiora Shantalaine. The exhilarated realtor flashed him a beaming smile as she started in, her excitement and enthusiasm undeniable.
BLAM!
Fabian winced from the thunderous sound and watched in horror as Fiora?s head opened up, dark claret and grey matter splattering across the doorframe behind her as the impact of the blast drove her into the wall and crumbled her sickly to the ground like a doll.
?NO!?
**************
Gasping for air Fabian sat up, spilling sheets about his hips to reveal a chiseled physique glossed with a thin sheen of sweat. Tears streaked his face as he panted, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts as he fought for control. The bedroom was dark and that was good; he needed the darkness.
?that?s where nightmares belonged.
?keep running?
??almost there.
These were Fabian's only thoughts as he raced across the desolate landscape for the two-story house atop the barren knoll. The scenery was a blur, the speed of his gait watering his eyes and muddling the details, but he didn?t let that stop him. He had to get in that house.
Inside was his freedom.
Inside was his sanctuary.
He didn?t know why he was wearing his Specter 7 bodysuit; a form-fitting Kevlar/nano mesh that clung like a second skin. It was engineered to stop most types of attacks, from heavy artillery to magic, offering the protection of tank armor with the weight and flexibility of spandex. It was cutting edge.
The figure that pursued him wore the same.
?don?t?stop?moving.
He reached the door and greeted it with a lowered shoulder, exploding through the rickety barrier to enter within. The haunted estate was as forsaken as the countryside that surrounded it, filled with darkness that was occasionally interrupted by slivers of moonlight peering in through the windows. He didn?t stop, racing for the stairs and climbing them quickly, catching sight of the man who followed him out of the corner of his eye.
He?d never been in the house before and yet somehow knew where he was going.
At the top of the stairs he cut right and darted down the hall, bypassing the numerous doors that lined the impossibly long corridor for the one at the far end. They opened, hands reaching out as he passed, trying to grab on and take hold of him. He pushed through and continued on.
A glance over his shoulder showed that from these parting archways poured more agents of Specter 7, all dressed in the same bodysuit as him, though theirs included the combat mask which completed the uniform.
?almost?there?
He reached the door at the far end of the hall and introduced himself to it much like the one in front. This one didn?t detonate in quite the same explosive fashion, though it did jerk open and swung wide, slamming against the adjacent wall.
There, in the middle of the room, was his salvation.
Beneath a shaft of random silvery luminance was a podium and upon it were two items: one a nickel-plated handgun, the other a clip.
Without hesitation he made his way there, scooping up the weapon. The weight of the clip felt off and with a glance he realized why. It only housed a single bullet.
?Don?t!?
The threatening command came from the door as the score of agents entered the room, swelling in and fanning out behind the lone figure who had taken the lead. The crimson lenses of his hood stared at Fabian harshly, their menace undeniable.
Fabian slammed the clip into the gun and chambered the lone round. ?Fuck you.? He snarled as he brought the gun to his lips, clenching his teeth around the barrel. He closed his eyes and, before he could reconsider, pulled the trigger.
Click.
Eyes snapped open and the gun slipped out, leaving Fabian to stare at the weapon in disbelief. Quickly, frantically, he put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger again.
Click.
?then under his chin.
Click.
...then against his chest.
Click, click, click.
?No!? He cried as he dropped to his knees, cradling the gun in desperate hands.
Why won?t you work? Why won?t you kill me and let me go?
The figure in front moved forward, not stopping until he towered above Fabian. With a lightning reflex he lashed out and snatched the gun from his hands, placing the barrel upon his temple.
?Because,? He answered those private thoughts as though he could hear them out loud, reaching back with his free hand to take hold of the mask. ??your mission isn?t over yet.?
Fabian watched as the mask was torn away, his breath hitching in his throat and his gaze widening with startled astonishment at who it was lurking beneath.
It was?him.
Paralyzed with fear, Fabian stared at the mirror-image looking back at him. ?Wha?what is my mission??
?You don?t know yet because you?re a sleeper.? His reflection replied, ?But if you?d like a hint I can give you one.?
Finally there was movement as Fabian nodded with a jerky motion.
The facsimile smirked and then whipped around, stepping out of Fabian?s line of sight between him and the door.
?Fi?Fiora??
There, standing in the doorway amidst the crowd of Specter 7 agents, was Fiora Shantalaine. The exhilarated realtor flashed him a beaming smile as she started in, her excitement and enthusiasm undeniable.
BLAM!
Fabian winced from the thunderous sound and watched in horror as Fiora?s head opened up, dark claret and grey matter splattering across the doorframe behind her as the impact of the blast drove her into the wall and crumbled her sickly to the ground like a doll.
?NO!?
**************
Gasping for air Fabian sat up, spilling sheets about his hips to reveal a chiseled physique glossed with a thin sheen of sweat. Tears streaked his face as he panted, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts as he fought for control. The bedroom was dark and that was good; he needed the darkness.
?that?s where nightmares belonged.