(no subject)
A gust of wind sweeps up dust over the beaten trail, stirs it as a small cyclone would, and then vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Neither the sun nor the dust makes the highwayman flinch in the slightest. His skin, bares a light red color but not in the way a young girl’s checks blush after being asked to prom, more of an indication that this man was no stranger to the merciless sun out in the wasteland. Though his face was wrinkled it rarely showed emotion. The wrinkles on his face were more as though they were from wear as one would see in aged leather rather than smiling. This was his work, the work where the strongest survived and attrition took care of the pretenders. He thrived on power. Here on the dusty trail they had entered his domain. He would take them as a hunter takes his prey.
He rested his eyes briefly in the shade of a slab of granite. The slab served a dual purpose for his work. It allowed him refuge from the blistering heat and also provided cover from the sight of travelers until they would be no more than 20 paces from him at which point he would chase them down. His mustang stirred almost restlessly. He named her Valkyrie after the maidens of Valhalla that would take those with the warrior’s soul to their home with Odin. Their transport was swift and true.
The movement came out of the corner of his eye. He saw what appeared to be two young lasses on the road northbound, likely en route to the city. The city was a large wicked place of debauchery in which he had seen from a great distance but had never visited. The road other than his new guests was utterly barren. Every indication told him that the time was right. With a flick of his heel the mustang sprang into action. Valkryie kicked up dust as she rode after the intended victims. The dust in the waning daylight looked almost like Witchfire. He gained ground on them quickly. He saw one of the young girls, a fair skinned blonde glance back. The milk white of her eyes grew in shock of seeing him. She knew his purpose on this desolate road and also would know that attempting to escape would be futile. He would ride them down at all costs. As is usually the case the girls stopped willingly. He waited a moment before dismounting. Though his intendeds were weaker than he, he still took the necessary precautions before approaching them. Out here one could never be sure what surprises may lay in wait.
He took his weapon with him as he approached them. He did so slowly watching their every move. The ride and fall of their breathing, their eye movements and most importantly he watched their soft slender arms as he had learned from his guild of men who did similar works. His feet pushed mounds of sand apart as he approached them. These were prints that would remain in the dust for hours. He felt as though he was doom approaching slowly and steadily as our final demise approaches us all. Upon confronting them one of the young ladies was whimpering. Her soft lips quivering ever so slightly. She pleaded with him to let them go but he knew he had business to do here. In a few moments he had relived her of a great sum of money. The entire time the other young woman sat quietly. Occasionally the blue of her eyes would meet his but only for the briefest of seconds before she would look away to the ground. He loved that feeling of control.
After his work was complete he walked back to his steed. He slammed the car door, which read “Clark County Police Department to protect and serve”
He rested his eyes briefly in the shade of a slab of granite. The slab served a dual purpose for his work. It allowed him refuge from the blistering heat and also provided cover from the sight of travelers until they would be no more than 20 paces from him at which point he would chase them down. His mustang stirred almost restlessly. He named her Valkyrie after the maidens of Valhalla that would take those with the warrior’s soul to their home with Odin. Their transport was swift and true.
The movement came out of the corner of his eye. He saw what appeared to be two young lasses on the road northbound, likely en route to the city. The city was a large wicked place of debauchery in which he had seen from a great distance but had never visited. The road other than his new guests was utterly barren. Every indication told him that the time was right. With a flick of his heel the mustang sprang into action. Valkryie kicked up dust as she rode after the intended victims. The dust in the waning daylight looked almost like Witchfire. He gained ground on them quickly. He saw one of the young girls, a fair skinned blonde glance back. The milk white of her eyes grew in shock of seeing him. She knew his purpose on this desolate road and also would know that attempting to escape would be futile. He would ride them down at all costs. As is usually the case the girls stopped willingly. He waited a moment before dismounting. Though his intendeds were weaker than he, he still took the necessary precautions before approaching them. Out here one could never be sure what surprises may lay in wait.
He took his weapon with him as he approached them. He did so slowly watching their every move. The ride and fall of their breathing, their eye movements and most importantly he watched their soft slender arms as he had learned from his guild of men who did similar works. His feet pushed mounds of sand apart as he approached them. These were prints that would remain in the dust for hours. He felt as though he was doom approaching slowly and steadily as our final demise approaches us all. Upon confronting them one of the young ladies was whimpering. Her soft lips quivering ever so slightly. She pleaded with him to let them go but he knew he had business to do here. In a few moments he had relived her of a great sum of money. The entire time the other young woman sat quietly. Occasionally the blue of her eyes would meet his but only for the briefest of seconds before she would look away to the ground. He loved that feeling of control.
After his work was complete he walked back to his steed. He slammed the car door, which read “Clark County Police Department to protect and serve”