Vyrse sighed as he leaned back, his black jacket crumpling in the smooth chair, and his long black hair falling into his pale face. A cold gaze came through those half open eyes, a knowing, penetrating look. His mind was slowly fading into sleep as he leaned back in his cushioned chair. A low crackling noise was slowly pumping into the room, steady and constant. Vyrse ignored it; the noise had filled his ears for too long to allow him to even acknowledge its presence. As he fell into sleep he patted his breast pocket, feeling the still thick wad of bills there, he never took anything but cold cash.
The slow noise came from the room next to his; whenever someone asked him what it was he usually came up with some excuse similar to "it's just a bit of static" or "it's my plumbing hitting the electric wires." This was followed by an insistence that he'd have it fixed soon. This usually rid himself of the people that lived next to his apartment. It was a fairly dreary place, not often fixed, but it allowed him to be as discreet as possible. This was good, for it suited his job, which was usually very... unpleasant. The reason for his digression was an oddity, a portal between worlds. He knew they would sometimes appear outside, and sometimes people from his world slipped out, and others slipped in, however his was the only one that was consistent and always open. It led to one of two connected worlds. This one was an ancient world, filled with old knights, chivalry, and kings. He was often employed to remove said people from power in the other world. He felt fortunate that his portal didn't lead to the third world, where beasts of immeasurable size roamed the world, their hides too thick for bullets.
He finally nodded off completely when his small black phone rang. He snatched it up and took down notes with a swift, nimble hand. Vyrse hung up five minutes later and looked down at his notes. “Another day, another job, another easy buck.” He said as he strapped a black belt around his waist, feeling the sleek black guns bounce against his thighs.
Vyrse took in a deep breath of the smoke-less air. “Middle Ages do smell quite nice.” He thought, as he began to walk into an open field.
"Vyrse has come!"
"Stop him!" Men, dozens of them began to swarm across the field at Vyrse. He sighed, tightening his grip on the wooded handles of his guns. In a blur he lifted them, his trained fingers pulling the triggers and reloading with only milliseconds between each shot. His belt, heavily laden with ammunition began to twist as he grabbed new packets of bullets and twirled the compartments of his belt faster than those of his guns. The men's numbers diminished rapidly, falling to bullets that pierced their heads, hearts, or lungs. The remainder managed to close the gap between themselves and the gunman, feeling his power was lessened at close range. Vyrse smiled as he let his legs fall under him, a lance swipe barely missing his head. Seconds later the man's blood hit his face, then the next, and another fell, the deafening gunshots seemed to become one roaring sound, rumbling into eternity. Finally the five remaining men dropped their weapons and ran. Vyrse smiled and sheathed his guns.
"Fools, always making it so much more entertaining." He smirked and followed the retreating men to their castle.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he ran, hitting the wall, but not stopping. His feet hit the wall, yet kept going, straight up, until they only touched air. He flipped and sprung off the top of the wall to reach the tallest tower.
Comments:
I actually wrote this story a while ago, it was supposed to be the back story for Vyrse and Raven, and it kind of is now. I just have to edit it a bit, especially the last few chapters.
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