Scavengers. Part 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story follows Isaiah. An Irish native cursed with the power of deaths touch. Isaiah must take lives to continue his own but the abilities of a Scavenger are less of a blessing every day.

Submitted: March 22, 2012

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Submitted: March 22, 2012

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The white haired Isaiah stood at the top of the Eifle Tower. A storm battered his face with heavy rain and wind. He looked across the city with distaste in his heart. He Hated everything his eyes could see. He took a step towards the edge, climbing over the slick railing, pausing only momentarily before throwing himself off. He kept his eyes closed as he  neared the ground. 

Then before he hit the ground he disappeared. Vanished only inches from the busy streets of Paris.  He appeared in a bar bathroom, somewhere in scotland. It was empty, not that Isaiah cared. His skin was soaked, his hair was matted to his face. The mid-thigh length leather coat he wore dripped intensly. He pulled on the hood of his jacket and stepped into the dark bar. It smelled of smoke and the stench of the working men. The air was thick and warm, a normally disdainful atmosphere, was pleasantl to Isaiah.

He walked to the nearest bar tender and stared into her eyes. His a glassy blue, looked deep grey in the dark lighting of the bar. The woman was almost mesmerized but she didn't let on to it. Isaiah could tell, he could always tell. 

"What would you like?" The woman asked in an american accent. She smiled, but it was a salesmen smile. Isaiah looked at the shelves in the back and pointed to the bottle of top shelf whiskey. She turned her head and saw what he was looking at. "Thats twenty dollars a shot." Isaiah simply smiled and turned away. He scanned the room for someone. He couldn't see who he was looking for. When he had turned back she had already poured a shot. He picked it up and looked it over in his gloved hands. Then he took the shot quickly and pulled a wallet out of his pocket. He paid the woman for his drink. 

"I didn't see you walk in, where are you from." She asked with that same smile on her face. She was trying to sell Isaiah more drinks, but she was good at seeming genuinely interested. Isaiah stood silently looking around. "Well, it's rude to ignore someone when they ask you something." She frowned slightly. Isaiah looked away trying to avoide conversation.

"What's the matter with you, are you a mute or something?" The bartender seemed agitated from Isaiah's lack of words. Isaiah looked at the bartender, locking eye contact with her. Slowly he nodded, in fact Isaiah had been mute since he was a child. Then the bartender looked down in embarresment. "I'm sorry." She sighed, before she could say another word she was called from the other side of the bar, by a burly red haired man that was covered in dirt, who sat with several other men. She looked away from Isaiah and head across the bar.

Isaiah watched as the men laughed and ordered drink after drink, occasionally looking around for someone. He stayed there for close to an hour, waiting, and watching. Then he heard the sharp cry of a woman from where the men were sitting. The man that had called her over had his paw of a hand locked around her arm trying to pull her in for a kiss. Isaiah stood and walked across the room and stood a few feet from the man, it only took a few seconds for the man to notice him.

"What'chya lookin at boy." He growled his words in a deep scottish accent. Isaiah looked at the mans hand and then back at him. He got the message, but it was almost laughable to him. "Let her go?" He laughed. "What are you going to do to make me boy?" He stood up, he was much larger than he looked sitting on the bar stool. His arms were large but he looked slow.  He let go of the girl and in a rush of rage at the look on Isaiah's face he swung hard. Isaiah stepped backwards, just out of reach of the man. Then in one fluid motion he turned and brought the back of his boot to the mans neck, dropping him instantly. 

The bar went quiet. The mans friend stood in horror as their friend lay motionless on the floor. Isaiah backed up, he knew he killed the man, but he never intended to. He went to run from the bar but two more men blocked his path.

"Call the police."  One shouted. "We have a murderer." The bar patrons, the ones with any courage, surrounded Isaiah. Closing the distance quickly. Isaiah was panicing, he didnt know what to do. So he closed his eyes and took himself to the first place that came to his mind. New York City.
 


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