A Quiet Moment to Self

David lay underneath his car, a classic black Camero. It was a bright spring morning, the sun was high and the breeze was fresh off of the river that ran nearby, it was the perfect day to be puttering with his car. David thought fondly back on his father, the car had belonged to him. A radio lay near the car playing a classic rock station.

David scooted out from under the car after having finished his work, his shirt was greasy and stained black in places. He leaned over and picked up a red cloth and wiped his hands on it. Dropping the hood into place, he reached in the window and turned the ignition, the car roared to life and settled into a seductive rumble. A smile spread across David's handsome features and he slid into the drivers seat.

Shifting the car into gear, David followed the old dirt road along the river.

David squeezed the trigger, the gun spitting silently in the night, smoke rising almost lazily from the barrel. The figure at the far end of the block jerked and crumpled to the ground.

David lowered his gun slowly to his side; he did not hurry away from the scene, he did not skulk or even walk fast. David approached the cooling body on the pavement and looked down at the once vibrant face of the woman. He told himself that it didn't matter, that she was a traitor, that he was just doing his job. He wondered however, why the gun felt so heavy at his side.

Jump In, Let's Go

"This is starting to turn into a routine," Asia said.

Bob started violently and almost dropped the cymbal stand he was carrying. "How the hell did you get past security?"

Asia laughed and steadied the cymbal stand in his hands. "I've been inside security all night."

Bob shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "That's pretty ninja of you."

"Hardly, seeing how my brothers and I opened for the Acid Crashers in the smaller show room." Her smile was amused. "Not used to seeing the same girl two nights in a row, I see."

Bob ran a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to be --"

"What, a musician?" Asia stepped closer. "I'm a musician too, remember. At least I know that you have good hands."

Bob eyed her, considering. "All right. You're on."

Asia's grin was fierce. "Baby, I'm always on." She tugged open the luggage compartment door so Bob could stow the cymbal stand.

He darted a glance over his shoulder, checking for his brothers. Then he stowed the last of his drum set and shut the luggage hatch. "C'mon - the others are out drinking with the roadies. We have a couple of hours before they get back." He pulled open the door and climbed onto the bus.

Asia stood at the bottom of the steps, bemused. "What, no 'jump in, let's go, sit back, enjoy the show'?"

Bob blushed. "Are you trying to make the roadies think I'm wenching every night?"

"Would you rather they think you're a civilian informant for an international underground paramilitary organization?"

Bob sighed. "All right." He gestured for her to enter. "Jump in, let's go..."

Helping Hand

It had to have been near 12 hundred when David paused on his way to his quarters. He was near the large multi-purpose room that served all functions when he heard sounds coming from the dim room. Poking his head in he saw Joe. David leaned against the door frame for a few minutes watching the young man. It looked like he was practicing on the fighting moves that they had worked on this afternoon.

"Joe, what are you doing?" David asked, shouldering his way away from the door.

Joe spun around and snapped off a sharp salute. "Practicing sir."

"At ease Joe," David said, entering the room fully. Joe relaxed a little, wiping sweat from his brow.

"It usually helps if you have another person to practice with."

"Everyone else is busy sir."

"Your form could use some work Joe."

"Yes sir." Joe looked down a little.

"I am not busy, so let's see what we can do about your form."

"Yes Sir!" Joe said enthusiastically.

David guided Joe through the motions of the attacks, gentle in his corrections and advice.

Fifteen Minutes

"You look - panicked." Asia looked up from her laptop.

The young man who stood over her was panicked indeed, hair and clothes disheveled as if he'd run through a human gauntlet.

"Please," he gasped, breathless, "you have to hide me!"

Asia raised her eyebrows. "Are you a criminal?"

"No!"

Asia was on her feet. She tossed Keith's old army coat across his shoulders, tugged Gabriel's baseball cap over his hair, and then dragged him down to sit beside her on the couch. She dropped an open VisualBasic textbook on his lap. She said, "Look studious."

He obeyed. It worked, because half a dozen teenage girls burst into the café, alert and tense like bloodhounds on the scent, but they didn't find what they were looking for. One of them hurried over to Asia's table.

"Have you seen Jesse Carlisle?" the girl asked.

He kept his head down.

Asia arched an eyebrow. "In person?"

"He came this way."

"Then he'd still be this way."

The girl tossed her head impatiently, then sneered at the coding textbook. "You're a nerd."

"And you're blind," Asia returned sweetly.

One of the other girls beckoned. "He's not here. Let's go!"

Asia watched them scamper away. Then she turned to the young man beside her.

"Give them fifteen minutes, Jesse Carlisle, and they shall tire of searching for you."

(224 words)

Pranks

Mark and Brian were huddled in the far corner of their barrack room, just out of sight of the door.

"Shh, you'll wake up Joe." Mark said, elbowing his twin in the side.

Brian stifled his snickers as best he could. his eyes darting back to the bucket of water that was perched precariously on top of the door. Mark had thought that this prank was a little to unsophisticated for them, but Brian had insisted. "It's a classic," he said as he filled the bucket. They knew that Steve would be back soon.

"Shh," Mark said again as they heard the faint footfalls in the corridor. They heard the creak of the door being opened and the clatter and splash as the bucket hit the ground. The yell of surprise however did not sound like Steve.

Brian peeked around he bed and saw a very wet Commander Cole.

David was brushing his wet hair out of his eyes and looking around the room, his gaze finally fell on Brian and Mark.

"Uh oh," Mark said.

"Uh oh is right," David said, advancing on the two soldiers.

Reclaiming Phillia

"When to the sessions of sweet silent thought --"

"Your thoughts are hardly quiet." Gabriel tuned his guitar absently.

Keith's brow furrowed. "Why do you always hate me?"

"My Fender Strat - the first genuinely nice guitar I owned - is charred scraps and you have to ask?"

Keith was curled up on his favorite gaming chair, poking through Tobias's copy of the Riverside Shakespeare. "It was an accident."

"Don't be so petulant."

"It was an accident."

"Then I accidentally hate you." Gabriel strummed an easy jazz riff.

Keith's eyes slide closed; the music was soothing.

Gabriel said, "I don't hate you."

"You lie."

"We kill with each other, for each other. We're brothers-in-arms, comrades-in-war. I wouldn't sacrifice myself for you if I hated you." Gabriel's hands on the guitar stilled.

Keith opened his eyes. "I know." Then he closed the book and said, "You read Tobias's dissertation on reclaiming phillia, didn't you?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Maybe."

"Just checking."

(159 words)

Training

David was flat on his back again, his opponent disarming him with amazing speed. All around him were other pairs sparring in the large room that was practically the hub of his world now. It was here that he learned how to fight, how to shoot, how to disarm and build bombs. It was here that his path to revenge was taking shape.

"On your feet Dave," James said from above him.

David arched his back and flipped onto his feet, falling into a fighters stance.

"You moved to soon again," James said, demonstrating the move again. "It is all about knowing how and when to strike. Speed is not so important at this point, it will come in time with the muscle memory. Now, try it again."

James was one of David's frequent sparring partners, and the closest person he had to a friend. James had taken care to show David the ropes, helped in his training.

David flowed through the movements again, waiting until he thought the time was right to strike. David suddenly jerked his arm forward, grazing James across the jaw. David grinned, but suddenly found himself on the floor again.

"Never lose focus."

Blue Blazers on a Tuesday

“Bottoms up!” Keith cried, and tipped his tankard back. Green beer spilled down his chin and the front of his shirt; Asia was going to put him on laundry detail for a month if he didn’t get cleaned up before he went home.

“Haven’t you had enough for the night?” Tobias asked. Gabriel was sipping spiced mead that Christian had managed to sneak into the bar.

“There’s never enough alcohol in an Irishman on St. Paddy’s Day!” Keith poured himself a shot of Glenlivet and, to the onlookers’ delight, dug a lighter out of his pocket and set the drink on fire. And then drank it. The already-inebriated onlookers cheered, and someone poured Keith another shot. He’d had enough alcohol to the head in a short enough time - immortal bodies burned through the stuff impossibly fast to really get drunk - that he was high on the energy of the crowd, so this time around he waved a hand over the shot glass, and with a magician-like flourish of his hand, set the drink ablaze. With his gift. Across the bar, Angel’s eyes narrowed with fury, but Keith drank the shot and there was more cheering.

The skinny young man perched on a bar stool beside Tobias winced and ducked his head at the sound.

“The irony of all this,” he said, “is that St. Patrick himself was Scottish.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Tobias nodded toward the man’s glass of green beer. “You don’t seem too into the spirit of the holiday.”

“Not Catholic,” the man said.

“Never stopped anyone before,” Tobias said.

“True.” The man eyed his glass, shrugged, and drank. Then he shuddered.

And then Gabriel was up on the bar, mandolin in hand. “Who wants to hear some Flogging Molly?”

(296 words)

Another Beginning

David jerked awake at the klaxon call of 0500. Bleary eyed he stumbled out of bed and grabbed for his uniform pants. He growled in frustration when he realized, a few futile moments later, that he was trying to pull them on over his shoes. Hopping around he tried to get them off again when he over corrected and fell over. The cement floor of the barracks was ice cold against his bare back.

"Here," a voice said from above. David squinted, trying to make out the figure above him, the halogen lights above making it difficult. David focused and grabbed a hand that was offered to him, he was quickly hoisted to his feet.

A smiling face greeted him when he was able to pry his eyes open all the way. Bright green eyes set in a friendly face, the man's blond hair buzzed close to his head.

"The first week is the hardest." The man said laughing. "Well actually the second and third weeks are the toughest, but at that point you're either committed or you're not."

David smiled wryly, "Where else would I go?"

The man grinned broadly, "Me too. Hey I'm James," he held out his hand again, this time in greeting.

"I'm David." David said, accepting the hand again.

"Better hurry up, the commanders will be in in a few minutes to inspect us." James stood up and stepped a few feet away to his own cot and made the bed. He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and bounced it off the bed after he was done.

The inspection was mercifully brief, though David did have a strike against him for not having his cot made up proper. He vowed to have it right the next day.

"Come on," James said, throwing an arm around David's shoulder, "let's go get some food."

Nectar and Rotten Fruit

Christian scowled. “Stop laughing.”

Tobias at least had the good manners to hide his laughter behind one hand. Angel had managed to school his expression into one of faint amusement. DJ was armed with a camera and clicking away with the detached studiousness of an artiste. Keith, by sharp contrast, had his hands on his knees and was laughing uproariously. The sound didn’t disturb the butterflies one bit, for they were content to form a comical halo around Christian’s head.

Gabriel said, “So the lovely flutter-bys know a Quislai when they see one.”

Keith could barely speak for his giggling. “Look! Butterflies on the f-f-faerie!”

“Sh!” Tobias hissed, but he was giggling too.

“Stop scowling, Christian - you’re ruining a perfectly good shot,” DJ said.

A little girl jabbed a finger in Christian’s direction. “Look, mommy, the butterflies are in love!”

The entire procession of tourists in the butterfly biodome had screeched to a halt when the butterflies descended en masse to gather around Christian, perched on strawberry-blond curls and fluttering around his ears.

At ‘in love’, Keith only laughed louder.

I’m an assassin, dammit! Christian snarled. This is an indignity!

Let it go, Gabriel said, and keep walking. The zoo staff will rescue you at the door.

The butterflies followed Christian all the way along the biodome path. The zoo worker opened her mouth to start the usual spiel about ‘hitchhikers’, and then her eyes went wide.

Keith said, blithe as can be, “I guess he smells like flower nectar.”

Tobias added, “Or rotten fruit.”

(259 words)

Project #20: Open Challenge

Sorry I disappeared for a few days. This week is open writing. let's keep it to 300 words.