I used to love going round my Nan’s, to see her and spend time with her. Listening and sharing stories with each other, watching my favourite TV shows, or movies. Whenever my parents were busy they took me round either my Grandma’s and Grandpa’s place, or my Nan’s. From what I can remember, nothing horrible happened when I was over at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house. But I can remember something bad had happened when I was at Nan’s. I call it…the bungalow statue.
It was 17:15pm, they were stuck on the I-91 highway. Hot, irritated and glazed with sweat. It had been a beautiful day with clear blue skies, a bright sun loomed, and of course, that sweet summer air… hours ago that was. Now, they crawled under a fiery, ash-filled sky, torn as if it was assaulted by a hundred unwanted guests. Noah drove on.
Inside the car next to him was a woman who lied unconscious with dried blood that had ran down her face. He was dressed in a light blue linen shirt, navy blue tie, black trousers; ripped and covered in soot. The woman wore a checkered shirt, blue jeans; also torn and sooted. Both appeared to be in their mid-thirties.
“Sergeant, what can you tell us?” An interviewer asked on the radio.
“We know that our weapons do jack-shit to their shields! Fuck, our infantry have a better chance at killing a few of them. Their armour is tough but with a dozen well-placed shots it can crack”
“How about you sir, anything?”
“Err, yes, well I believe we are dealing with a sort of extraction process here. My colleagues and I noticed that the two alien forces are attempting to take control of Earth for its resources, primarily deuterium….”
Kzzzzzzzz, weeeeeewooooooo
“A blade is only a piece of metal, harmless, when in no ones hands. As with any other weapon. On there own…they are nothing. But when wielded by a force, it has the potential to be many things”, says Kenjiin.
“Like what Master?”
“A sharp knife that cuts to the truth, a tool that can wreak destruction, an instrument for diplomacy, instills fear and salvation…it becomes dangerous! Which is why it is no toy, understand?”
The master held the blade in his hands, it was sheathed in its scabbard. His student looked upon it with eager eyes, a mere child, who only saw it as a new toy instead of a weapon, despite his master’s explanation. The man laid it down upon a flat rock. Then they sat.
“Meditate with me”
It’s sixty degrees celsius, cloudy skies, with a big bright sun (a supergiant in actuality) looming over a charred land; coated in sand dunes. The heat does not bother the two reptilian men, however. Of course their suits help greatly, though being cold-blooded also has its advantages. Their tails waver quite highly- meaning that they’re content. Deresius finishes fueling up his plasma torch and starts torching alongside Ulas.
He had been paired with the man, his newest friend, stripping down a crashed cruiser of some ancient design. They met each other on Kjazeen-Po, a space station that prizes itself on ores, lethal weapons, beverages, drugs and scrap. This was about two months ago, Ulas attempted to haggle more than he could bargain for. To his fortune, Deresius passed by and caught onto this. Together they got five hundred credits extra.
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