As the world government begins gathering all of the world’s most capable fighters for the coming tournament the people ready themselves for the greatest event in history. One particular man is being sought after, a former operative of the S.U. military. Located in Manchester, New England the S.U. World Government’s lost prey is relentlessly chased.
The rainy streets of Manchester gave the city a gloomy atmosphere as dawn approached. The dark clouds above covered the city and made it appear to be much earlier than it actually was. Civilians in sophisticated garments walked about while holding umbrellas over their heads. Many held fear in their eyes as they watched several S.U. vehicles pass by as soldiers exited the vehicles. S.U. soldiers patrolled the streets in greater numbers than they have before, apparently looking for someone as civilians cautiously watched.
On a nearby rooftop a man watched with great care while staring down at several patrols. His face was scarred from betrayal and held a five o’clock shadow from lack of sleep. The bags under his eyes also helped to justify this. His black hair, which covered the top half of his face blended well with his all black attire but not with the light colored building he perched himself on. The man looked up into the sky and sighed as rain poured down on his face. He then slid his hand over his hair as it slicked back.
Below, S.U. soldiers constantly passed empty alleys, perhaps figuring that their target would not be in such an area, and inspected any civilian that looked suspicious. The man on the rooftop closed his eyes and opened them once again as his eyes were completely black. His attention was then directed at a S.U. soldier from across the street. The man sat in a meditating position when he suddenly looked around himself. He was down the street looking through red lenses.
The man held his hands out as he wore body armor and gloves. A pistol was held in his hand as he observed it carefully before promptly crushing the weapon in his hand, rendering it into nothing but scrap. He then threw it over his shoulders just as he suddenly opened his eyes and was back on the rooftop. He looked from his high position to see a S.U. soldier, without his weapon, looking around in confusion. The man smiled as he began running and jumped to the roof of another building nearby.
He kept watch over the men below, following their patterns and observing their behavior. He noticed nothing out of the usual besides them sweeping the entire area for him. Just then he heard the rotors of a nearby helicopter as he lay low, allowing the shadows to mask his presence. The helicopter aimed its light down on the city below it as it moved from building to building. When it had finally passed the one he was on he began to move again.
As the man moved he had found what he was looking for. He bent down lowly and observed the building several meters away from him and smiled as he saw a parked car of someone he knew. “Good, looks like they’re safe. Thank God.” Said the man. He observed the area for any S.U. soldiers. When none could be found he searched the sides of the building he was on and finally found a way down. Once he reached the streets he walked slowly to prevent any attention drawn to him. He looked on both sides of the street and quickly ran when the road was clear as he ran to the building’s door and frantically banged on it.
“Carol? Krystal? Are you there?” yelled the man as he looked around the building and area. The civilians passing by minded their own business as the man continued to bang and yell for the residents inside. “Open up! It’s Mitchell!” said the man. After a few moments a woman carefully opened the door as she peeked to see who was at her door. Her eyes widened as tears began to form. She stepped back as if she had seen a ghost and covered her mouth with her hand. “Mitchell, you’re alive!” exclaimed the woman as she threw her arms over Mitchell and began to sob as she covered her face into his shoulder. Mitchell embraced his wife and gently kissed her head when he noticed his daughter, Krystal. “Hey!” said an excited Mitchell as the little girl ran to her father. Krystal yelled, “Daddy!” as she ran into Mitchell’s open arms. He embraced his family as he looked behind himself and closed the door.
Subject: Loss of Equilibrium Chapter 12: On the run 
Thu Jan 20, 2011 3:40 am
