Face to Face With Death

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Gunshots rang out in the mile-long target range as Michael gunned down four more Edge Walker-shaped targets. He brought his enhanced reflexes to their limit, taking down each target as quickly as they appeared. Soon enough, every eye in the room was on him, staring at him in awe as he laid prone, destroying numerous targets with ease. He knew this, but he couldn't let their praise get in the way of his practice.

Don't let anything distract you from your mission, Michael.

He aimed his bolt-action sniper rifle at the head of an Edge Walker and fired the moment the reticle was slightly over his head. Judging by the distance, it would be a guaranteed head shot.

He pulled the bolt of the rifle back, and took aim at the next target. His finger barely pulled on the trigger as a bystander painted on a plank of wood hovered by. Sweat fell from Michael's brow as he raised his head up from the scope. Since the magazine had a capacity of eight bullets, it left him with only two bullets left. The question was if he was daring enough to try and take on the next wave of Edge Walkers with the two bullets, or waste them by reloading. He enhanced his vision, allowing him to see down the mile to the target. It took the target three and a fourth seconds to fall, so whatever decision Michael came up with, he'd have to do it now. "I'm probably going to hate myself for this." He repositioned his eye back in on the scope, wishing that Brianna would just let him take it off.

"Damn," he said to himself as five targets appeared after the bystander sunk back under the city-like venue. He shot the head off of two target before they had a chance to get into position, and using his strength-enhanced arm, chunked the magazine towards the remaining three targets. Snapping another magazine in the rifle, he pulled back the bolt and took out two more targets. The magazine soared down the mile-long range and shattered the final target as it was lowering into the ground. A bit risky, but it definitely showed the few Amians watching him that just because he was Human didn't mean he was weaker.

Weak enough to show how you feel towards your group, he heard a voice say at once. Since he's been with the group, he had tried to distance himself as far from them as he could, particularly Dre. It wasn't because they were bad people, of course, but it was because of a deal that he had made, a deal that granted him his life back. As ordered by Death himself, he was supposed to find the King of Elements and report to him once he was found. Michael figured that if Death wanted to see someone, chances are his time was up, and that Michael himself would be the vessel to end Dre's life, someone that was like beginning to feel like a little brother to him. A little brother that he'd never have.

His scar began to burn on his throat, Death's way of telling Michael that he had grew impatient, and refocused him back on the firing range. A target had already lowered back in the ground and two more were following. He cursed to himself as he quickly shot both down, shooting one in its head and the other in its neck. So much for a perfect round.

"Time!" Brianna called out through the speakers. He heard the crowd groan at his miss as he stood. I'm not here to put on a show for you, he thought as he released the magazine, placed the rifle and magazine on the rack, and walked out of the bulletproof glass door. The students went back to their own targets, signaling to the person behind the controls to begin.

"You took down forty-nine targets out of fifty, one with a melee from a mile away, and scored forty-seven headshot. Damn, kid, you sure you're a Human?" Brianna asked, just shy a few inches of standing eye-to-eye with Michael.

Michael said nothing, but simply nodded.

"Keiko! You're up!" she called to the almost-empty spectator area behind the target range. Keiko stood up and skipped towards Brianna and Michael, displaying a wide, child-like smile. "What type of weapon are you going to be using?"

"Hand gun, please," she said. She went inside as Brianna began typing away on a computer.

"You sure she's able to use a gun? She seems a bit too young to even be here," she asked Michael.

"I'm as sure as I am human."

"If you say so." She pressed a red button underneath a microphone. "What difficulty level and speed do you want it on?"

"Seven difficulty and eight speed," she called back as she picked up a pistol.

"You do know that ten is the highest level, right?"

"Yes ma'am, but I'm not ready for that yet."

"That isn't what I meant," Brianna said, rubbing her eyes in exasperation. "Starting in five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One."

Five targets fell from the ceiling; each one had been blown away almost simultaneously. The target range all fell into a collective gasp, including Brianna, who looked more dumbfounded than when Michael was behind the gun. It was as if he was at an opera; watching and hearing the people get proven wrong was music to his ears.

His scar burned even hotter. Michael hissed as he held his throat. He was supposed to report to Death at least once a week, but after he had found out who the King was last month, he hadn't had the heart to report to him. Death was growing more and more impatient. Michael slid out of the target room, walked down the underground tunnel, and appeared at the academy gates. Nobody was around. Perfect. He pulled out three black steel orbs and a small stake from his pocket and laid a knee on the ground. As he was preparing to shove the stake in the ground, he heard Dre's voice call out to him from the academy.

"Dude, I've been looking for you. What are you doing? Are you planning on playing marbles?"

Michael scowled. Of all times Dre had to show up, it had to be now. "No, but I'm glad you're here." Lie of the century. "There's something I have to show you. It's very important." He thrust the stake in the ground, sliding it in as if the ground was butter. It gave off a low hum. The wind, the wildlife, the leaves, the people, all had stopped at Michael's will. He stood, his back turned towards Dre, and dropped one of the orbs. A deep bell tolled at the moment of impact.

"Michael," Dre said wearily. "What's going on?"

He ignored Dre as he dropped another orb; it too tolled. "Do not show any fear."

"What do you mean?"

The final orb fell to the ground. Nothing happened. Would Death not be able to come to Amity? That wouldn't make any sense. Amians die as well, don't they?

A moment later, a dark vortex began swirling in the skies, black lightning flashing towards the ground.

Dre yelped as a lightning bolt struck just a few feet away from them. "Michael! I'm failing at not showing fear!"

A dark funnel cloud slowly fell from the sky, shaping itself into a Human form. The cloud flowed into his trench coat as he looked walked forward. Dressed in all black, the man looked Michael and Dre over through his black Pince- Nez. The only part of him that was not covered was a dark face. "I began to think you had betrayed me."

"What kind of fool betrays Death?" Michael said.

"More than you would know. Has the King of Elements been found?"

Michael looked at Dre, who looked paralyzed with fear.

Death hovered towards Dre. His eyes were completely hidden by his glasses, but Michael could tell that he was staring in Dre's eyes. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to kill him, or if you wanted me to." Dre glanced at Michael, looking as if betrayal had cut through him like a sword.

"Kill?" Death asked. "You must have misinterpreted why I told you to find the King. When you agreed to work under me, I told you to find him to protect him and ensure that he fulfill his destiny. You are not a Reaper yet, but an Oracle, a vessel to help save Amity and Earth from the evil forces of Aggaron the Dark. Whether you receive your life back or find eternal peace is up to you and the King."

"What about the other part of the deal? About being your mercenary?"

Death stared at him, his face as hardened as ever. Finally, he said, "Is that what you want? To be a mercenary under my wing? That isn't an easy job, young one. You'd have to kill the vilest of humans, some that would make you want to turn your back on humanity. It is a job that could easily corrupt your mind, make you go mad with rage at your own people. I will not be held responsible if that happens."

"I don't care about that." Michael lowered his head. "My scar's been bothering me for years now. It burns with rage every time I think about him." Snarling, he looked at Death. "I don't want to just sit on the sidelines while more innocent people go through the same Hell that I've been through! I want to be able to help them if I can!"

"Hm..." Death murmured. "I will think about this. For now, focus your attention on protecting the King. Only after the war will I decide your fate." He turned and began walking away from Michael and Dre, and vanished.

Time began to move normally as the dark clouds above the school slowly evaporated. Dre fell to his knees, still staring at where Death had vanished. "Are you okay, Dre?"

"Wh-what... who just happened?" Dre sputtered.

"Don't you mean, 'what just happened'?" Dre nodded, his mouth still agape. "We just had a conversation with Death."

"Death?!" Dre cried, finally turning towards Michael. "You mean, like, the Grim Reaper? Dude, are you evil?"

Michael exhaled. "If this is about me working with Death, then no, Dre, I'm not evil. Neither is Death. He's just someone who has a job to do. If we was evil, then don't you think that tyrants and murderers would still be walking, even after their death?"

"Well, yeah, but maybe Death made a mistake."

"Death makes no mistakes, Dre. Why were you looking for me, anyways?"

Dre thought in silence for a moment. "Oh, yeah. Megumi wants the group to meet up this Thursday at her house. You in?"

"Yeah, why not," he said before walking back to the school. "Keiko and I are going to leave early."

"Ok, see you later," Dre said as he waved.

Michael raised his hand as he walked without looking back.



You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net