DUSKHUNTER: Chapter Four... "Entropy on a Yacht" Part One
Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 2:35 am
Perhaps it was the green eyes. And, not just any shade of green. These were a particular shade, reminiscent of a light, Chinese jade. Dappled with darker sea green, even. Kolchan once held dear a woman with such eyes. That woman's eyes were no longer open; they would never see the sun or the sky or the moon again. Not in this world.
Yet, this other woman, certainly bearing no resemblance to the woman from Kolchan's mysterious past, had seemingly identical eyes. Her long, blonde hair dangled and framed her rather charming face. Kolchan was frozen, as if captivated by a mythical charm or glamour.
The lady speaks, her voice low and urgent, "Hurrreeeeeee. Please."
Kolchan snaps out of his daze and whips out his polished steel Swiss Army knife, a gift given to him from his (once) father-in-law, one of the best things ever given to him, very useful. Kolchan cut the lady free. "Uh, sorry for the delay there for a moment," he whispered. "What's going--"
Once free, she looks past Kolchan, screams, grabs the chair and throws it past Kolchan, toward a hallway leading from this room deeper into the yacht's confines. Kolchan ducks to the side, narrowly missing the tossed folding-chair. He snaps his gaze to the left to see the chair hit a tall, dark-haired man in the chest. The man seems to be straight out of a 1970s mafia movie, pinstriped suit, sunglasses, greased back (and rather fantastic) hair, and a toothpick sticking erect out of the corner of his mouth. He goes down in a fumble as he tries to step past the chair.
Kolchan sees him reaching for something in his jacket, probably a gun. Taking quick action, Kolchan kicks him in the side of the head, causing the man to roll onto his side. The man's arm flings outward, revealing that he indeed had gone for a pistol. Kolchan also sees the bulge caused by a pair of handcuffs in the man's front pocket. Lightning fast, he kneels down, removes the cuffs and locks them into place around the assailant's wrists (hands behind the man's back). The guy is unconscious.
The situation has suddenly escalated in a dangerous fashion. Kolchan knows that the others from Fort Lee will soon return to the yacht. He glances at the hallway leading deeper into the yacht, then to the doorway leading back outside, to freedom and safety.
He knows the lady, who is rather tall since she's wearing fashionable high heels (nice, very nice ankles... STOP IT!! Focus Kolchan, focus), --he knows that she wants to go deeper into the yacht to get "it." Whatever "it" is... Is it worth possibly getting killed by a mafia grunt? Worse... is that the sound of sirens in the distance? It's hard to tell, the sound is faint. There isn't much time!
"Please, everything depends on getting *it* from them!" she insists.
The tension is broken by Kolchan's cell phone. The distinctive ring alerts Kolchan that Berkley is calling him. He hesitates... Then says dryly, "I might have to take this call."
Her eyes widen in disbelief.
NOW IT IS TIME TO VOTE...
Yet, this other woman, certainly bearing no resemblance to the woman from Kolchan's mysterious past, had seemingly identical eyes. Her long, blonde hair dangled and framed her rather charming face. Kolchan was frozen, as if captivated by a mythical charm or glamour.
The lady speaks, her voice low and urgent, "Hurrreeeeeee. Please."
Kolchan snaps out of his daze and whips out his polished steel Swiss Army knife, a gift given to him from his (once) father-in-law, one of the best things ever given to him, very useful. Kolchan cut the lady free. "Uh, sorry for the delay there for a moment," he whispered. "What's going--"
Once free, she looks past Kolchan, screams, grabs the chair and throws it past Kolchan, toward a hallway leading from this room deeper into the yacht's confines. Kolchan ducks to the side, narrowly missing the tossed folding-chair. He snaps his gaze to the left to see the chair hit a tall, dark-haired man in the chest. The man seems to be straight out of a 1970s mafia movie, pinstriped suit, sunglasses, greased back (and rather fantastic) hair, and a toothpick sticking erect out of the corner of his mouth. He goes down in a fumble as he tries to step past the chair.
Kolchan sees him reaching for something in his jacket, probably a gun. Taking quick action, Kolchan kicks him in the side of the head, causing the man to roll onto his side. The man's arm flings outward, revealing that he indeed had gone for a pistol. Kolchan also sees the bulge caused by a pair of handcuffs in the man's front pocket. Lightning fast, he kneels down, removes the cuffs and locks them into place around the assailant's wrists (hands behind the man's back). The guy is unconscious.
The situation has suddenly escalated in a dangerous fashion. Kolchan knows that the others from Fort Lee will soon return to the yacht. He glances at the hallway leading deeper into the yacht, then to the doorway leading back outside, to freedom and safety.
He knows the lady, who is rather tall since she's wearing fashionable high heels (nice, very nice ankles... STOP IT!! Focus Kolchan, focus), --he knows that she wants to go deeper into the yacht to get "it." Whatever "it" is... Is it worth possibly getting killed by a mafia grunt? Worse... is that the sound of sirens in the distance? It's hard to tell, the sound is faint. There isn't much time!
"Please, everything depends on getting *it* from them!" she insists.
The tension is broken by Kolchan's cell phone. The distinctive ring alerts Kolchan that Berkley is calling him. He hesitates... Then says dryly, "I might have to take this call."
Her eyes widen in disbelief.
NOW IT IS TIME TO VOTE...