Wanted to practice action scenes a little, so I wrote this short piece.
It wouldn’t take long anymore. The smell of booze wafted over from the tavern across the street, mixing with the rank smell of oil. The sky was coloured red, the sun almost gone. The Hextech streetlights buzzed to life.
And then they snapped off all at once. The square was coated in darkness.
He had hidden himself in one of the alleys. Checked his gear. One hand gun. Elaborately designed, smooth to the touch. Four shots in the chamber. Perfection.
A rifle. Thin. Lengthy. Good for one shot. It was all he’d need.
Four canisters hung from a belt under his mantle. The mechanism for each was subtly different. No explosion was the same. Just the way he liked it.
The creaking of a door alerted him. He felt his muscles tense, his heart drum. The darkness reminded him of the theatre, just moments before the curtains rose.
Beneath his mask, he smiled.
He listened to the footfalls. Metal on stone. Like percussion. Two paces. Three.
A dazzling array of light sprouted from the floor. Long tendrils reached up, out, to the sky, then slumped, cascading light. Two wings, beautiful symmetry, a Hextech miracle.
The woman had jumped back in the nick of time; the light exploded, knocking a crater in the square.
His gun shouted. Its voice was exquisite, the sound sharp and shrill. The bullet slammed into her pauldron. She was momentarily stunned. He emerged from the alley, stepping into the pale twilight.
“Who are you?! What do you think you’re doing?!” Her spear left little to imagination. A long shaft with a sharpened point. The golden decorations were tasteless, the inset ruby an affront.
He brought a finger to his lips. Her knees bent. Armour made her slow. One step, and his gun roared. Like an avalanche. The shot grazed her, drawing blood from her cheek. She would have another scar.
She reached him. Spear thrust forward. The steel made a ringing sound. Clashed with his rifle. Splinters were nicked off its intricate design. He clacked, stepped back with a flourish. The rifle fired, recoiled and flew from his hand. Then his gun sang.
Her armour cracked loudly, and she spat out blood. Behind her, the beam shattered one of the Hextech lights. She swung. His mask, designed with care, each detail meticulously etched, broke in two. He could taste the blood.
The man withdrew two paces, and then again as she thrust.
“Four.” His voice was hoarse, drenched in delight.
His gun laughed. She blinked. Stared. Mouthed a word. Wings sprouted from her back.
The sound of a swinging door was the last she heard.
The boy had been watching the lights spring up from behind them when the man boarded the carriage again.
“That was quick, sir.” The boy frowned. The man’s ornately designed cane seemed damaged. It hadn’t occurred to him before.
The man leaned forward, and pressed a coin in the boy’s hand.
“I told you there was a coin.”
The boy scratched his chin and threw away his cigarette.
Finding that coin in this eerie darkness hadn’t taken long at all.