Status: Hiatus
Dali
Welcome
“Jakob Dali,” I said. A man with a scar down his face took a seat across from me.
“What is it you want Dali?” He asked me. I avoided eye contact.
“I was told to come here by General Johnson,” I said. The scar-faced man snorted.
“Who?” He said with a smile. I sighed to annoy him. They hate it when you sigh.
“General Johnson,” I repeated. The scar-faced man looked at his fingers.
“Never heard of him,” He said. I stood from my chair. That’s when he snapped. A man in the corner behind me wasted no time reaching for his gun. The scar-faced man pulled a knife. It was over in seconds. I kicked my chair into the man with the gun. He pulled the trigger, but the gun lacked aim, and the bullet missed me by inches. A hole oozed blood in the scar-faced man’s shoulder. He wailed in pain, his knife hand faltering slightly. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him across the table. I managed to get the knife from him as he fell to the floor. The man with the gun picked himself off of the ground. I threw the knife into his leg. Again, he fell to the floor, the shot from his gun missing me completely. I kicked him in the face and took his gun. Suddenly, a voice came from the speaking in the ceiling.
“Enough Dali,” a voice said. I shrugged.
“I wasn’t going to kill them,” I started, “well, maybe this guy with the scar.” I put the gun away. I couldn’t see who was speaking, but I guessed by his tone that he didn’t appreciate my little stunt. I shoved the gun into my pants and waited for him to speak. There was nothing. The door to the room made a clicking noise, and I assumed that the door was now open. I stepped out, glancing down the hall both ways before exiting the small room. I hated what was going on now. Just last night I was with my girlfriend. Now I was on the other side of the world, wishing I hadn’t picked up the god damn phone. I had a feeling I would regret this later, but decided not to dwell on it. I was here now. I had taken a right out of the room, and now I was in a garage-looking area. I had convinced myself this was a training exercise before I had even gotten here, one of the many reasons I was so calm. An Audi was parked a few yards from me. I smiled and broke into it. An alarm went off before I started the engine. The garage was now a haven of flashing red lights, all of which whizzed past me as I drove the Hell out of the there. A sniper a few yards ahead of me tried his best to pick me off. I swerved the car around, and through the passenger window, I shot his trigger hand. He yelled and jumped out of the way as the car nearly ran him over. In no time, I was outside. I hit the brakes. General Johnson and a miniature army of gunmen surrounded the car. I stared through the windshield. The scar-faced man waddled over to me and opened the driver side door. I step out.
“Nice work Dali,” he said. I black out after he introduced his fist to my stomach.
“What is it you want Dali?” He asked me. I avoided eye contact.
“I was told to come here by General Johnson,” I said. The scar-faced man snorted.
“Who?” He said with a smile. I sighed to annoy him. They hate it when you sigh.
“General Johnson,” I repeated. The scar-faced man looked at his fingers.
“Never heard of him,” He said. I stood from my chair. That’s when he snapped. A man in the corner behind me wasted no time reaching for his gun. The scar-faced man pulled a knife. It was over in seconds. I kicked my chair into the man with the gun. He pulled the trigger, but the gun lacked aim, and the bullet missed me by inches. A hole oozed blood in the scar-faced man’s shoulder. He wailed in pain, his knife hand faltering slightly. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him across the table. I managed to get the knife from him as he fell to the floor. The man with the gun picked himself off of the ground. I threw the knife into his leg. Again, he fell to the floor, the shot from his gun missing me completely. I kicked him in the face and took his gun. Suddenly, a voice came from the speaking in the ceiling.
“Enough Dali,” a voice said. I shrugged.
“I wasn’t going to kill them,” I started, “well, maybe this guy with the scar.” I put the gun away. I couldn’t see who was speaking, but I guessed by his tone that he didn’t appreciate my little stunt. I shoved the gun into my pants and waited for him to speak. There was nothing. The door to the room made a clicking noise, and I assumed that the door was now open. I stepped out, glancing down the hall both ways before exiting the small room. I hated what was going on now. Just last night I was with my girlfriend. Now I was on the other side of the world, wishing I hadn’t picked up the god damn phone. I had a feeling I would regret this later, but decided not to dwell on it. I was here now. I had taken a right out of the room, and now I was in a garage-looking area. I had convinced myself this was a training exercise before I had even gotten here, one of the many reasons I was so calm. An Audi was parked a few yards from me. I smiled and broke into it. An alarm went off before I started the engine. The garage was now a haven of flashing red lights, all of which whizzed past me as I drove the Hell out of the there. A sniper a few yards ahead of me tried his best to pick me off. I swerved the car around, and through the passenger window, I shot his trigger hand. He yelled and jumped out of the way as the car nearly ran him over. In no time, I was outside. I hit the brakes. General Johnson and a miniature army of gunmen surrounded the car. I stared through the windshield. The scar-faced man waddled over to me and opened the driver side door. I step out.
“Nice work Dali,” he said. I black out after he introduced his fist to my stomach.