Part One
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Today sucked with profound absolution. No. He squinted at the hands on his watch, trying to resolve them in his still blurred vision. Not today. Tomorrow. Bad did not even begin to sum up this shit.
Eleven and a half hours. Actually, a little less. The little second hand kept ticking back, back, back, counting down his remaining time.
He tried to sit, a chain around his left wrist jerked him to a halt with a clatter. Okay, ow. Everything hurt. Castian hated even to admit to himself when things hurt, but damn. Had they beaten him? Yes. There were bruises on his hands, the only parts of his body he could see past the skintight one-piece of the Warp suit. Bastards. But then... he had shot someone and done whatever had happened in the saloon, so they probably didn't think highly of him.
"The little brat is awake." Ah yeah, they weren't fond of him.
Castian looked up at the man. He stood on the other side of stout cell bars, his feet spread in a strong stance. The nose gracing his face was a mangled thing. Maybe there was a chance it could actually be a flesh colored lizard squashed there. Castian wouldn't bet against it. His eyes were a wild grey, crazy storms pinned up inside his skull.
Castian sat as much as possible, maneuvering the chain holding him to the heavy metal bed frame till he was upright. "Why am I in here?"
The man let out a laugh of pure rage. "Because you killed four good men, and injured a half dozen others."
"Ah..." Castian winced. Four, oops. That... wasn't great. Maybe he just would leave it out of the report. And... what? Hope it didn't show up in the history of this town. Right.
I am infinitely screwed.
"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I have no idea what you're talking about?" His eyes went from storms to hurricanes of fury. "No? Didn't think so."
He gripped a cell bar in one meaty fist, squeezing till his knuckles went white as marble against his tan skin. This entire situation was becoming bad. Okay, becoming was a generous term. This was thoroughly bad.
Another man appeared behind the first, wiry and straight as a post. Two. Perfect. Castian unobtrusively tested the chain again. Stronger than him. He sighed.
"Look I--"
"Shut up." The first man hissed. He pointed behind him to a clock mounted on the wall, almost out of sight around a corner. All Castian could make out was the minute hand on the exposed side of the clock. It showed about fifteen. Maybe sixteen. "You see that?"
"I--"
"It's just after two AM, sunrise is in three hours, maybe a bit less."
Castian frowned past him, trying to get a better look. Two, goddammit. God. Damn. It. He should have been home by twelve at the latest.
"What happens at sunrise?" he asked with a sigh.
"We hang you." The man grinned, and his pal chuckled at Castian. Oh yes, they were having far too much fun with this. Hang? No, don't think about it. Ever. He'd be fine. Despite the fact they'd taken his gun... and his holster, and... well, everything but his clothes and watch. Scratch that, his boots were gone too.
"Did you hear me kid?" The man asked, annoyed at the lack of weeping and begging probably. "You're going to die in three hours."
"What? Yeah, sounds like a plan."
Both of them stared at him like he was mad, and hey, maybe he was. But let them think whatever they wanted, maybe it'd make them wary.
The first man released the cell bar, turning away. His buddy followed him, shooting Castian a deadly look. He gave his most insane grin in return, watching as they moved out of sight around a corner. All he could see was an empty cell opposing his, the wedge of wall where the clock sat, and what might have been the corner of a desk. A jailhouse or whatever the hell they called a police station in this time period.
"Taren, you're dead," he hissed, not caring the other boy couldn't hear him. He looked at the Link clock again. Eleven hours, nineteen minutes, twenty-eight seconds. A groan slid out of him. His head throbbed. It felt like someone had shoved a hornet's nest between his ears. Breathe. Think.
He stared at the Link clock on his wrist in frustration. It could only get him back if he returned to the place he'd appeared. Warping was uncertain business, and if you didn't use your old Warp Hole, no telling where you'd drop. His had thrown him out near the bank, in a dingy back alley. Easy to find, even without the tracker in his watch.
He clattered the chain, pulling on it. Oh, ow, ow. Hell, ow. Had they broken his wrist? The sons of bitches. He gave another pull, teeth tight against the pain. The chain was good, and he couldn't really drag the skeletal jail bed around, it was too heavy and well, obvious. And he wasn't even thinking about the locked cell between him and freedom.
Screwed. He was so screwed. His hornet's nest headache thrummed in affirmation.
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So I'm going for a more.... ugh? Smartass style I guess XD, I have smartass characters in my fantasy stories, but the actual narration is just cocky/witty instead of what I normally do I suppose. Anyway! Tell me what you think! Was it even remotely humorous, or should I just bury my head in the sand and go back to writing typical fantasy feel on everything (and yes, I know this isn't fantasy)
Also if you did enjoy, consider voting, I know most non writer don't even think about it, but it is an intense confidence boost and we love it. Okay, maybe some don't, but I haven't met them!
YOU ARE READING
An Assassin In Time
Science Fiction(ON HOLD) If time couldn't hold you, what would you do? Castian was born inside a Field, outside of time. He has no timeline. He belongs nowhere, and anywhere. The Field he was in was destroyed when he was young, and he and four other children...
