Taster book of sorts IDK

F-a-i-l-e-d

So I'm gonna enter that Twisted Fate thing.

And I started the story. And finished it. Story board and all.

Then I decided to re-read the information.

Apparently you're meant to take a already existing story and twist it round. So the story I wrote isn't gonna help me.

Time for brain storming again. However, it does mean you guys get a story teaser.

You can take this one if you want. I don't know what you'd do with it, but you can have it. Just tell me first.

I'm very pleased with the ending. So pleased I won't say anything and let you hang there, wondering...

Nope. Stop talking Glitch.

On with the story.

We received the bomb threat two weeks prior. They knew as we knew that we wouldn't move from the building. Since then, at least one person had been on constant patrol outside, watching and waiting.

Of course, it had to be my turn to patrol when they arrived. I recognized them through the crowds, and although my heart plummeted, a grin spread on my face. I fought it off and approached them. The same red hoodie. The same grim expression. His face was hardened, hair shorter, but still the same person.

He saw me and recoiled, hand darting to his belt. Of course he didn't recognize me. He thought I was dead.

The gun spun in his fingers, the bomb still attached to his belt, now visible. A warning shot fired into the air, and the streets were cleared after a moment of screaming and yells. We had about ten minutes until the police arrived.

With the streets empty, he didn't have to battle the endless tide of people flowing from place to place. The gun never moved from my head.

"Move." Ah. Even his voice is the same soft tone. Sweet. "And you live."

I stared at him, not moving, not even blinking. Doubt flickered in his eyes, but not from the question of firing the gun. I'd watched him from trees and bushes firing it and hitting wherever he was aiming countless times. Once it was me, when he mistook me for a small mammal. The scar on my arm is still there.

That's not including the countless training tapes they made us watch as we grew. Technically, I've trained every second of my life for this moment. If my life began at eight. 

"Move!" The command was more forced this time. I still didn't try to take my gun from my belt.

"No. You move, Sean." The doubt turned into fear and the gun shook. I smiled. He probably hadn't been called Sean in five years.

"How..?"

"Do I know your name? I grew up with you, Sean. Yet you're the one who forgot me. I'm a little offended." It was fun to watch the fear on his face grow.

He looked confused for a millisecond, then his eyes widened and the gun slackened a little. "Jay? Jay Eliott?"

My smile widened. "You do remember. I'm touched."

His hands were shaking now. "You're dead. No, you're dead. You're dead you're dead you're dead!"

"Am I?" I glanced down. "No, I think I'm alive."

"I was there when they buried you. You're dead."

"Yes, I saw that. Quite touching, really. You visited my grave quite often, didn't you? Every other day, right? For two years, at least. I watched that. You missed me, admit it."