• Lyte


    The warm sun beats on my face, well the part that isn’t covered by my black and white mask. The comforting weight of cold hard metal rests in my hands and pressed against my chest, a high powered rifle, the best money can buy. Through the scope I see my general target. “Third back,” I remind myself out loud, positioning my crosshairs on the third black SUV in the convoy. I line up my shot, take aim and—

    “Ahem,” a voice sounds from behind me in the darkness. From a female.

    I set the butt of the rifle down on the legs attached to it, the barrel resting on the window sill. Standing up, my muscular but stock form blocks out most of the light. Like anyone in my profession, I’m wearing all black, excluding the white on my mask, covering the lower half of my face. A black tactical vest covers my torso, some grenades in the pockets and a knife going down my back, over my left shoulder.

    My eyes, golden green, search the darkness of the room, looking for the source of the sound I had heard. Soon it appeared.

    Footsteps are faintly heard as a woman approaches me from the other side of the room. Dressed in all black as well, the woman is tall, lean and muscular. Instead of a tactical vest, she wears a bulletproof vest, no doubt the highest end one you could find on the black-market. Her pants are baggy and have a kind of neon trim that somewhat glows from the little light that enters the room. Her hair, long gold and pulled back in a neat ponytail. Her face, concealed in a half purple mask like mine and sunglasses.

    As I study her, she speaks. “You one of the Twin Dragons?” Her voice is harsh and sharp.

    I glare at her, wishing looks could kill, she’s getting closer. I see there’s some kind of large object in her hand, although I can’t see all of it because she’s using the shadows to her advantage to hide it behind her. I reach up and grab my blade over my shoulder, saying in my deep rugged voice, “And what if I am?”

    She stops, the cloth over her bottom half of her face tightening, no doubt she’s smiling. “You’ve been causing a lot of people, in a lot of places, a lot of trouble with your rouge tactics,” she says as she looks me over from head to toe.

    “So you have come to kill me?” I ask, looking directly into the reflective surface of her sunglasses.

    At that moment, she brings out her large object into view. I look down at the slick curved blade of a scythe. Sharpened and polished, the handle long interrupted only by her gloved hand and the smaller handle towards the blade for better maneuvering abilities.

    “I see,” I say, pulling on the hilt of my blade. “You’re the young assassin I’ve been hearing about lately.” I take a step towards the woman, beginning to circle her where she stands.

    “What have you heard?” She asks, bringing the scythe in front of her getting in a defensive position.

    I pace around her like a predator about to strike its prey. This time, I’m the one looking her up and down, then keeping my gaze down as I recall the rumors, “I’ve heard you were good,” I look at her, ”people are saying that you’ll be the one to take me and Dark out. You’re Moko, right?”

    She stands in silence, until I am at her front again. ”You’re Lyte, then?”

    In response I raise my knife, ready to fight. “That’s me.” I reply, glaring hard at her.

    “Well then,” she remarks, taking an offensive position with her scythe, “now that the introductions are done with, shall we dance?” She finishes matter-of-factly. Both hands tight on the pole of her scythe.

    I jab at Moko with my knife, she avoids it and gracefully traps my arms between under hers. A punch in the face soon follows, along with another, with the pole of her scythe in her fingers.

    A pain shoots through my arm, making me scream, my elbow popped when Moko jerked up on it. Bending my elbow in the wrong direction, I jerk my free fist into her stomach, causing her to let go of my arm.

    I stumble back and kick her, or an attempt to. She slashes me across my chest with her blade. Blood spurting against the wall, as I fall to the floor. As my head bounces on the concrete floor, Moko laugh manically, taunting. “This is the Mighty Twin Dragon??” She coos, laughing, gripping her stomach, almost doubled over.

    I stand up, looking at her, enraged. “You think that’s funny huh?” I reach and grab my sword, “MY TURN!” I scream, slashing at her with all I have left, she fends it off with the mental pole of her scythe.

    I get hit with the recoil of my blow and she draws the massive blade back to administer the final blow. She goes for the neck; I duck with milliseconds to spare. Kicking at her legs, she falls back and I pull out a small black pistol and aim it at her head, right between the eyes.

    She whips her head up at the metallic clink of the gun, her sunglasses by her hand. Looking down the barrel with her green gray eyes into mine. “That’s cheating.” She says.

    I take a step closer to her, when the barrel almost touches the skin of her forehead, by this time she has gotten up onto her knees. “All is fair in love and war.” I say, clicking back the hammer.

    I didn’t realize that I was too close, until she kicked up and hit me square in my chest. Swinging her scythe at me again, not connecting with me, but something tugs on my vest. I hear a pin hit the floor, from a grenade.

    When I look at her face, she has the same expression as mine. Most likely thinking the same thing:

    [********]