Post by keioto on Sept 1, 2006 14:14:43 GMT -8
Eh, I'm not such a good writer. >(<
And I was just writing this for boredom sooo .... hope you enjoy.
<_>
- - - - - - - -
Crossover
PROLOUGE
In the lone streets of Manhattan, a man in a long brown duster and a tilted fedora walked.
One hand in the pocket of his dirt-stained leather coat, the other holding up a white cigarette which sat between his lips. He sucked in deeply and then blew out a fine ring of smoke after removing the tube from his mouth, the wind trailed swiftly through the atmosphere and blew around crunkled trash which was in almost every corner of where the man walked. He snapped the cigarette in two with his fingers and dropped it onto the asphalt ground, stopping before a tall brick building. The man waited patiently, and in no time, the building in front of him started to look liquid, like water, and slightly gave him his reflection. The small liquid circle in the wall of the building expanded, and soon its fillings were no longer the red bricks of the building wall, but it looked like an alleyway. It was some kind of portal.
The man snorted, and walked forward, right through the liquid tunnel. Seconds after he entered, the portal closed up, and it was the rusted brick wall again.
In a dark backalley, where no sun shone, the same man walked. The end of the alley was fenced off, but the man seemed to know that. When he hit 10 feet or more away from the fence, he stopped and spoke, "Master ... I am here again. The mission was a success, what other tasks do you have for me?" the odd man kneeled. In the pitch blackness, two tilted red lights rose. Or maybe they weren't lights, but eyes. A snarl was heard from the thing which the eyes belonged to, "Oron ... you have done well," spoke it. "now I have yet another quest for you."
The man, Oron, lifted his head and stared into the eyes, "Yes, Master?" "Kill Doyle Smith, and I shall reward you." The thing spoke in a deep, frightening voice. But Oron didn't seem to be intimidated.
"I shall, Master. I shall."
CHAPTER ONE
Doyle Smith sat at his office, tapping his fingers on the metal top.
He slouched in his black leather office chair and eyed the clock boringly, Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc. it went. Doyle sighed, he closed his eyes in frustration and straightened his sitting position. "Screech!!" A loud noise from outside was heard, and Doyle's eyelids flipped up in part excitement part shock, "Jameson,"
Outside of the small white house, a red '96 Chevy Camaro was parked beside the sidewalk, roof down.
Loud tunes burst out of the car radio and the engine growling every now and then. The door to the house opened, and Doyle stepped out, he hardly had got dressed, just threw on shoes and a jacket. "Anton, what the hell are you doing?" He shouted over the loud music, which was very irritating. "Get in, I'll tell you on the drive." The man in the drivers' seat said, a large grin on his face. Doyle walked down the steps and to the car. He reached out and opened the door, then slipping in. "Turn down the dammit music first, will 'ya?" he shouted again. The driver, Anton Jameson, reached his hand out and lowered the volume of the radio. He pressed down on the accelerator and swished the steering wheel to the left, and they hit the road in the shiny, Convertible Chevrolet.
"Sooo ... what was all that about?" Doyle asked, sighing. "Well, yesterday, - or, last night- I was at a pub-"
Doyle rolled his eyes, "oh 'ell no, here he goes." he murmured. " ...and I saw this guy. he looked pretty strange," Anton continued, not hearing Doyle's complaint. "And?" Doyle interrupted. "-And let me tell the freakin' story on my own, dude. What is your problem?"
"..." Doyle didn't respond, he just leant back in the seat and took a deep breath with his nose. "now ... -and! Like I said, he looked really weird. Like he was from a junkyard or somethin'. Ol', rusted coat, ripped up fedora, -oh yeah, and there were mud stains all over him! Can't forget the mud stains. It was like he was a pig! ... Ahem ... now, 'nyhow, his fedora was covering his face, so I couldn't see his eyes. But the expression on his face, it was like ... erghh ... like he wanted to kill someone! Or he had just killed someone! -And! When he was walking out of the pub, his hand turned a little green and scaly ... like yuck! And not only that, but, I saw a glowing object in his pocket, like a blade or something." Anton finished his explaination, Doyle thought it would go on forever, and he wasn't really concentrating on what Anton had said. "... soo ... what?" Doyle asked. "I don't think he's human." Anton replied, turning the car into a different lane. "Well, that's only obvious," Doyle said. "what do you want Us to do with him?"
"Well, I did get a hint of where he was going, it was sort of in this maze-ish kind of thingy. I tried spying on 'em, but as soon as I thought I had a shot, he was gone. He just disappeared!" Anton explained. "So, you think he knew you were there?" asked Doyle. "No. He didn't," Anton said.
"And how do you know?" Doyle questioned again. Anton turned his head and gave him a blank look. Doyle broke eye contact with Anton and stretched his back, "Oookay...."
At the same pub Anton had been at the other night, the red Camaro pulled up at, Anton took out the key from the ignition and hopped out of the car over the door. "Come on." He told Doyle, gesturing with his hand for him to follow. Doyle nodded, opening the door at his side and stepping out, he pushed it close and walked over to Anton, who had just been slipping the keys in his jeans pocket. "What are we here for? To get drunk?" Doyle asked. "No, I'm going to find out about that guy," Anton told him. "I like the getting drunk subject better." Said Doyle, following Anton behind the pub.
They entered a dark spot, about quarter a mile behind the pub, there was a dark walkway, a brick pit stop, and three buildings, as well as two alleyways. "So, is this where he went?" Doyle asked, silently and slowly walking behind Anton, examining the place carefully. "Yup." Anton said, browsing the ground for any clue the man had left behind.
"Don't you think he went through one of these alleys?" "Nope," Anton replied, now checking the building walls. "I checked both of them, he wasn't in any. He wouldn't be able to walk through them so quickly." Doyle parted his lips, and he was going to say something before Anton cut him off, "-Or run!"
Doyle nodded, he walked away from Anton and started to examine the place. "Did you say he had a glowing object in his pocket?" He asked Anton. "Yeah. Why?" Anton returned a question, still examining the walls of the buildings. "Come look at this." Doyle said, bending down, -actually, kneeling, staring at an awkward item on the ground. Anton oblidged, he bent down over Doyle and viewed the object. It look like a small, aqua green glass piece, and its reflection was blinding.
"This look like it?" Doyle asked Anton, since he hadn't been at the pub with him. "Yeah, sort of. Except what he had was longer, and carved. 'Think this is a piece of it?" Anton explained, and then questioned as well.
"How would I know? I wasn't there, I don't even know what it looks 'ike, for petes' sake." "Well, I only told you!" Anton exclaimed. "..." Doyle hadn't anything to say, he just knelt staring at the object.
Anton reached his arm down and picked up the object, "-Wait!" Doyle shouted. Anton turned and stared at him, "Yeah?"
Doyle gulped, "you shouldn't've touched it, who knows what it might be able to do." he said. Anton chuckled, "Dude, your creeping me out. Stop it," he said. They both stood up, and starting to examine the place again. Suddenly, as Anton was searching, the awkward piece of glass was pulled out of his hand. "Wha--" he swung his head and watched as the piece of glass melted into one of the building walls. "Doyle, check this out!" he exclaimed. "Eh?" Doyle turned, and they both watched as a liquid circle expanded itself in the wall.
"Dude, this's a total freak show."
- - - - - - -
>)(<
Eh, more coming soon . . .
I think.
And I was just writing this for boredom sooo .... hope you enjoy.
<_>
- - - - - - - -
Crossover
PROLOUGE
In the lone streets of Manhattan, a man in a long brown duster and a tilted fedora walked.
One hand in the pocket of his dirt-stained leather coat, the other holding up a white cigarette which sat between his lips. He sucked in deeply and then blew out a fine ring of smoke after removing the tube from his mouth, the wind trailed swiftly through the atmosphere and blew around crunkled trash which was in almost every corner of where the man walked. He snapped the cigarette in two with his fingers and dropped it onto the asphalt ground, stopping before a tall brick building. The man waited patiently, and in no time, the building in front of him started to look liquid, like water, and slightly gave him his reflection. The small liquid circle in the wall of the building expanded, and soon its fillings were no longer the red bricks of the building wall, but it looked like an alleyway. It was some kind of portal.
The man snorted, and walked forward, right through the liquid tunnel. Seconds after he entered, the portal closed up, and it was the rusted brick wall again.
In a dark backalley, where no sun shone, the same man walked. The end of the alley was fenced off, but the man seemed to know that. When he hit 10 feet or more away from the fence, he stopped and spoke, "Master ... I am here again. The mission was a success, what other tasks do you have for me?" the odd man kneeled. In the pitch blackness, two tilted red lights rose. Or maybe they weren't lights, but eyes. A snarl was heard from the thing which the eyes belonged to, "Oron ... you have done well," spoke it. "now I have yet another quest for you."
The man, Oron, lifted his head and stared into the eyes, "Yes, Master?" "Kill Doyle Smith, and I shall reward you." The thing spoke in a deep, frightening voice. But Oron didn't seem to be intimidated.
"I shall, Master. I shall."
CHAPTER ONE
Doyle Smith sat at his office, tapping his fingers on the metal top.
He slouched in his black leather office chair and eyed the clock boringly, Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc. it went. Doyle sighed, he closed his eyes in frustration and straightened his sitting position. "Screech!!" A loud noise from outside was heard, and Doyle's eyelids flipped up in part excitement part shock, "Jameson,"
Outside of the small white house, a red '96 Chevy Camaro was parked beside the sidewalk, roof down.
Loud tunes burst out of the car radio and the engine growling every now and then. The door to the house opened, and Doyle stepped out, he hardly had got dressed, just threw on shoes and a jacket. "Anton, what the hell are you doing?" He shouted over the loud music, which was very irritating. "Get in, I'll tell you on the drive." The man in the drivers' seat said, a large grin on his face. Doyle walked down the steps and to the car. He reached out and opened the door, then slipping in. "Turn down the dammit music first, will 'ya?" he shouted again. The driver, Anton Jameson, reached his hand out and lowered the volume of the radio. He pressed down on the accelerator and swished the steering wheel to the left, and they hit the road in the shiny, Convertible Chevrolet.
"Sooo ... what was all that about?" Doyle asked, sighing. "Well, yesterday, - or, last night- I was at a pub-"
Doyle rolled his eyes, "oh 'ell no, here he goes." he murmured. " ...and I saw this guy. he looked pretty strange," Anton continued, not hearing Doyle's complaint. "And?" Doyle interrupted. "-And let me tell the freakin' story on my own, dude. What is your problem?"
"..." Doyle didn't respond, he just leant back in the seat and took a deep breath with his nose. "now ... -and! Like I said, he looked really weird. Like he was from a junkyard or somethin'. Ol', rusted coat, ripped up fedora, -oh yeah, and there were mud stains all over him! Can't forget the mud stains. It was like he was a pig! ... Ahem ... now, 'nyhow, his fedora was covering his face, so I couldn't see his eyes. But the expression on his face, it was like ... erghh ... like he wanted to kill someone! Or he had just killed someone! -And! When he was walking out of the pub, his hand turned a little green and scaly ... like yuck! And not only that, but, I saw a glowing object in his pocket, like a blade or something." Anton finished his explaination, Doyle thought it would go on forever, and he wasn't really concentrating on what Anton had said. "... soo ... what?" Doyle asked. "I don't think he's human." Anton replied, turning the car into a different lane. "Well, that's only obvious," Doyle said. "what do you want Us to do with him?"
"Well, I did get a hint of where he was going, it was sort of in this maze-ish kind of thingy. I tried spying on 'em, but as soon as I thought I had a shot, he was gone. He just disappeared!" Anton explained. "So, you think he knew you were there?" asked Doyle. "No. He didn't," Anton said.
"And how do you know?" Doyle questioned again. Anton turned his head and gave him a blank look. Doyle broke eye contact with Anton and stretched his back, "Oookay...."
At the same pub Anton had been at the other night, the red Camaro pulled up at, Anton took out the key from the ignition and hopped out of the car over the door. "Come on." He told Doyle, gesturing with his hand for him to follow. Doyle nodded, opening the door at his side and stepping out, he pushed it close and walked over to Anton, who had just been slipping the keys in his jeans pocket. "What are we here for? To get drunk?" Doyle asked. "No, I'm going to find out about that guy," Anton told him. "I like the getting drunk subject better." Said Doyle, following Anton behind the pub.
They entered a dark spot, about quarter a mile behind the pub, there was a dark walkway, a brick pit stop, and three buildings, as well as two alleyways. "So, is this where he went?" Doyle asked, silently and slowly walking behind Anton, examining the place carefully. "Yup." Anton said, browsing the ground for any clue the man had left behind.
"Don't you think he went through one of these alleys?" "Nope," Anton replied, now checking the building walls. "I checked both of them, he wasn't in any. He wouldn't be able to walk through them so quickly." Doyle parted his lips, and he was going to say something before Anton cut him off, "-Or run!"
Doyle nodded, he walked away from Anton and started to examine the place. "Did you say he had a glowing object in his pocket?" He asked Anton. "Yeah. Why?" Anton returned a question, still examining the walls of the buildings. "Come look at this." Doyle said, bending down, -actually, kneeling, staring at an awkward item on the ground. Anton oblidged, he bent down over Doyle and viewed the object. It look like a small, aqua green glass piece, and its reflection was blinding.
"This look like it?" Doyle asked Anton, since he hadn't been at the pub with him. "Yeah, sort of. Except what he had was longer, and carved. 'Think this is a piece of it?" Anton explained, and then questioned as well.
"How would I know? I wasn't there, I don't even know what it looks 'ike, for petes' sake." "Well, I only told you!" Anton exclaimed. "..." Doyle hadn't anything to say, he just knelt staring at the object.
Anton reached his arm down and picked up the object, "-Wait!" Doyle shouted. Anton turned and stared at him, "Yeah?"
Doyle gulped, "you shouldn't've touched it, who knows what it might be able to do." he said. Anton chuckled, "Dude, your creeping me out. Stop it," he said. They both stood up, and starting to examine the place again. Suddenly, as Anton was searching, the awkward piece of glass was pulled out of his hand. "Wha--" he swung his head and watched as the piece of glass melted into one of the building walls. "Doyle, check this out!" he exclaimed. "Eh?" Doyle turned, and they both watched as a liquid circle expanded itself in the wall.
"Dude, this's a total freak show."
- - - - - - -
>)(<
Eh, more coming soon . . .
I think.