Part 2
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When the world resolved again, he was sitting on the Warp pad. Bleeding on the Warp pad.
He groaned. The room was dark and empty. The only light came from the center. Pulsing green waves came off a complicate yet elegant machine, suspended in the middle of the room by thick coils. Castian shuddered. Time magic, and lots of it, rolled through the room.
Stumbling to his feet, he skirted the Field generator and its green light. The color of time looked different to everyone. Taren saw an indigo light. To Castian, it was every sort of green.
He fumbled at the door, then slipped out of the room and onto a long, white hall. Oh yeah, bloody footprint all the way home baby. Taff would have a fit.
Leaning against the wall, Castian moved along the hall. He couldn't find the will to give a single shit about the blood he left smeared against the bone-white paint. The hall let out into a large room with two stairs, two more doors lead off to other parts of the floor, where a variety of machines ticked and whirred. Down the first set of stairs was the dinning rooms, the kitchens, and several guest rooms too opulent to be ever be functional in Castian's most humble opinion. From there, there was another set of stairs to the basement. Up went to the Five's rooms. Or... Well, they were Four now. A small pang entered Castian's chest, then it was gone. Then there was another set of steps off their floor to the dojos and where the masters lived. The top floor belonged to Taff.
Castian started up the curling staircase. The smooth, polished wood of the railing turned slippery under his blood damp fingers. The steps were an equally polished wood of a darker color, but hey, it looked like bloody footprints showed up on them too! Just his luck.
Castian drug himself up the final step. He felt like of just collapsing there on the floor. Instead, he let go of the railing, and stumbled through the common room. A TV, rarely used but now on, sat with a semicircle of assorted chairs around it. A mini fridge and a shit stove occupied a small "kitchen". There was a table off to the side, covered in dirty dishes. Bookshelves lined the walls where possible. A single desk, littered with loose paper and a variety of art supplies sat undisturbed in the corner. Just like it had for the past four months.
In front of the tv, someone stirred from the clutches of a beanbag. A head of shaggy blond hair swiveled as Taren looked back at him. His eyes widened and he scrambled up.
"What in the bloody... Cas, what the hell mate?" He leapt over a recliner and to Castian's side.
"Touch me, and I will put a dent in the floorboards with your face," Castian warned in a low voice, still limping towards his room.
"Ah, hell man, you're bleedin' everywhere," Taren said, worry plastered over his face like a second skin. Castian didn't care. "What's on your arm?"
He'd almost forgotten about the four pounds of iron wrapping his arm, not that his wrist had, "I don't want to talk about it." He made it to his door and yanked it open. "Night, Taren."
Taren stuck his sneakered foot in the door before Castian could slam it shut. The younger boy grunted under his breath as the heavy wood hit him. "It's seven in the bloody morning and you just walked through the bloody livin' room getting your guts everywhere, an' I demand an explanation. You were gone an entire bloody day."
"I was gone fourteen hours," Castian snapped, temper fraying even farther. Taren just had a way of driving him completely insane. "Not a day. And none of it's guts. Get out of my room." He shoved on the door again. His leg tried to buckle and he caught himself on the knob. The door swung inward under his weight, and Taren wormed in.
"C'mon mate." His voice was whiny, and would have shoved drove Castian up a wall if his leg could produce such a feat.
"I got shot." Taren hissed in a sharp breath, eyes going to his leg. "And now that you know, you can beat it."
"Should I get--"
"Taren, in exactly five seconds, I am going to unload a round of bullets in your general direction."
Taren went pale, then a green color. "Y... C'mon. You wouldn't."
"Five... Four..."
The slam of his door cut off "three". Castian heard Taren swearing in his obnoxiously high pitched way from just outside. With a sharp click, Castian dropped the lock
The Warp suit was halfway off before he even made it to the bathroom. Castian left bloody footprints on his hardwood floor as he moved. He threw the gun and holster at his bed. They bounced, and landed with a solid thump on the floor. Whatever.
Sliding his shackled arm from the suit, he looked down. The wiring woven through it looked like viens, especial smeared in blood. Castian rolled it down to his waist, shoving the bathroom door open. The room inside was small, and clean.
Crossing to the shower he turned it on with a jerk. Water pounded against the cool tiles, sending steam through the room. He picked up a remote from an alcove in the wall. A stereo clicked on. Castian pressed the volume button till the vibration from the bass shivered through the floor and into his feet.
He slid his hands behind his head, nails biting into his neck and screamed into the deafening noise.
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And with this, concludes chapter three! I hope you guys liked it, got a few hints to things that have happened recently, but aren't revealed yet. What do you think is up with that desk? What about Taren, he seems less annoying than Castian finds him. I have a specific accent for him in mind, but I'm curious, you do you think he sounds like?
If you did like it, please think about dropping a vote. Each one is special to me and makes me feel like people like my stuff in a way that's hard to express to non writers! You--you're a writer, you know what I mean XD.
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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...
