Text --> Voice
Ae dfew dsays [There's a fumbled click of the microphone, and the voice that slides over the airwaves is a tired monotone, a thin layer of weariness spread like a membrane over the tightly packed frustration and annoyance underneath. There's the rustle of movement, a body scraping across the sheets, as he slowly sits up. The whole air of the one-sided conversation is that of mild musing, as if he's talking to himself more than the audience on the other sides of the Forge, a fact that is completely true.] Better.
As I was saying, a few days ago I fought what I believe to be the killer. Due to the speed and the fact that it happened at night in an unlit alley, I wasn't able to get a good look at them, not enough to accurately describe them, at least. However, I was able to pick up on a few minor details:
The killer is fast.[The word is pushed, drawn out. Harsh.] Strong. Skilled. A good fighter, not some stupid drunken street brawler. They know what they're doing.
They fight primarily with a bladed weapon and go for the throat first. Neither hand was favored or dismissed, so they must have been ambidextrous.
While I couldn't see much of them, I did notice a tear in the shirt only because I could see the skin underneath. There was an old wound there, half-healed, up at his shoulder. Small. Round. Deep. Damage on his arms, like cuts. His chest. And I think something on his face, though it could have been a shadow.
[He sighed, the weariness catching up with him, making him sluggish. He hadn't talked this much in awhile, not since getting hurt. Blood loss is a bitch.]
The most important thing is when he got close, my chakra was gone. The sharingan, chidori, amaterasu, everything, gone. I felt it drain out of me.
[There's a rustle in the blankets again, his body resting back into bed. When he speaks, he sounds far more tired than when he started.]
I will be out hunting him myself. Tomorrow, if possible. [If his "jailors" let him out, that is.
[And with that, he turns off the communicator.]
As I was saying, a few days ago I fought what I believe to be the killer. Due to the speed and the fact that it happened at night in an unlit alley, I wasn't able to get a good look at them, not enough to accurately describe them, at least. However, I was able to pick up on a few minor details:
The killer is fast.[The word is pushed, drawn out. Harsh.] Strong. Skilled. A good fighter, not some stupid drunken street brawler. They know what they're doing.
They fight primarily with a bladed weapon and go for the throat first. Neither hand was favored or dismissed, so they must have been ambidextrous.
While I couldn't see much of them, I did notice a tear in the shirt only because I could see the skin underneath. There was an old wound there, half-healed, up at his shoulder. Small. Round. Deep. Damage on his arms, like cuts. His chest. And I think something on his face, though it could have been a shadow.
[He sighed, the weariness catching up with him, making him sluggish. He hadn't talked this much in awhile, not since getting hurt. Blood loss is a bitch.]
The most important thing is when he got close, my chakra was gone. The sharingan, chidori, amaterasu, everything, gone. I felt it drain out of me.
[There's a rustle in the blankets again, his body resting back into bed. When he speaks, he sounds far more tired than when he started.]
I will be out hunting him myself. Tomorrow, if possible. [If his "jailors" let him out, that is.
[And with that, he turns off the communicator.]