Untitled story Chapter 2 (not proofread)

CHAPTER 2.A - Master of Puppets

[Focus: Man in hood]

Previously:-

          The truck carrying the antique sword was attacked as it was being transported into the antique store compound. Among the chaos, the crane lost hold of the sword causing a huge uproar and resulting in death and destruction. The sword was miraculously stopped by an unsuspecting child. When the security and the attackers tried to take possession of it by force, they were annihilated by a single swing of the sword. Meanwhile media personnel and some of the onlookers tried to capture the child’s appearance; later which were all destroyed by an onlooker in a hoodie, who also caused an explosion slaughtering all the media personnel. Soon after, he starts walking in the direction in which the child ran away in a frenzy.

Continued:-

He was walking with a slight spring in each step as though celebrating his triumph. He was swinging slightly, shaking his head and humming 'Live and Let Die' which was muffled due to the scarf he had used, to cover his face.

He abruptly quickened his pace, as if he was late for an appointment.

“Are you okay, my sweet rat? Did you get hurt?” enquired a gentle motherly voice.

“No, mom” said the hooded man with an embarrassed expression.

“If he were to get hurt by something like that, then he’d shame our family name honey, you wouldn’t do that wouldn’t do that would you, Kush?” said a masculine, low-pitched voice.

“He he he! Kush & rat, more like Krash. I would have done a better job with my eyes closed!” said a young bratty voice.

“Dad if you cant call me by my pseudonym, then call me by the name u gave me." said the man in an exasperated tone. "And shut up, you leaky nose!” he snapped at his little brother.

"Moooom! He’s calling me names again!" complained the kid.

“Sweet rat, haven't I told you not to call your brother that? Haven’t I?”scolded the gentle voice.

“He started calling me names, not me.” the man complained in a voice barely audible. 

“Okay both of you, stop that, this instant!” snapped the mother as she saw the kid open his mouth to argue.

She then turned towards the man and asked in a concerned voice, "Did you HAVE to kill all those people, ratty?"
The man, his brother and father muttered at once, "It was essential!"

"Hmph! Okay, fine! Is that anyway to talk to a lady?" scoffed the mother.

"Sorry, mom!" apologized the other three together.

The man then spoke in a dark tone, "I had to, otherwise those pesky reporters would have jeopardized my plan!"
His words were followed by a short silence before his father spoke, "Son, you better hurry! That kid's in trouble! He needs your help!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End of 2.A~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 2.B. - Time & Rain Washes Away Pain & Stain

[Focus: Young intern reporter]

Previously: The young reporter heard a disturbance from the mall where she was working. She rushed to the topmost floor along with her cameraman to get a better view of the disturbance. She then noticed the child wielding the sword as if it were a toy and the strange man in a hoodie who created a melancholy, Intrigued by the man's behavior of severe violence, she ran towards the scene with an intent to follow that man.

Continued:-

    The young reporter started running towards the elevator. She was a survivor, her instincts told her that in hurry escalator and stairs are always a better choice than elevator. She took the escalator down and she did not wait for the escalator to carry her she even descended those steps. As she was climbing down she stumbled and almost fell due the stilettos. But that didn’t slow her for long because the footwear lost its place on her foot and it was hanging from her shoulder. Down the escalator she ran towards exit barefooted.

     She was dressed in a pink suit, with a white shirt and pink buttonless small coat and a pink below the knee skirt, her medium length black hair was neatly set in a ponytail. She wore rectangular spectacles which hid her beautiful brown eye. If she were to be dressed casually without those spectacles she would look barely seventeen.

      As she came out from the exit, all she could see was a lot of smoke and could feel only chaos.

      She started sprinting towards the scene. Her breathing was steady and she did not show fatigue or any signs of slowing down. She was happy that she had been keeping up with her morning sprints which she started when she was in the school athletic team.

     It did not take her long to get to the truck, which, just minutes ago housed the large sword. But, she could barely make out anything due to the heavy smoke. She stopped hoping that the smoke would clear out. As soon as she gathered her thoughts, she noticed that her feet were wet and sticky. That is when she noticed the puddle of crimson she had stepped on. She jumped back, scared out of her wits when she realized what it was. By now the smoke had started to clear and now she could see the carnage. There was not even a single person who was still in one piece around her.

    There a foul smell of burnt flesh and blood in the air. The smell, blood on her soles, footwear on her shoulder all together made her stagger. She collapsed on the road.  She could neither nether blink nor breath. She sat there stupefied as though she has seen a ghost.

    It was almost 10 minutes after that, when her cameraman caught up with her. His plump body drenched with sweat and he was panting.

“You…. Never told me it was a race to the finish luv” said the still panting cameraman half expecting her to rebuff him for his false accent. But that had to wait as he saw the way she was.

   He was so used to her always in control, witty, energetic self, coupled with her nothing is impossible attitude that he could not bring himself to accept it was her. She sat in the middle of the road her knee to her chest cuddled; she was shivering violently as if it was a frigid mid-winter night. Only when he saw his surrounding that he could understand her being the way she was now. Even his self-proclaimed bad neighborhood experience left him as he could taste sour in his mouth.

   “Hey Akira, dear you gotta get up. Come on take my hand it’s an active crime scene now cops will be crawling like ants towards sugar lumps. The crowd has started to gather again. Please take my hand I can’t lift u off with this camera in my hand” said the warm humane cameraman.

   It was minutes before she actually took his hand and tried to stand again. But she was still shivering uncontrollably. And many more minutes slipped out before she could recompose herself.

   “I’m okay now , get the camera rolling let us do a first report on all this before the cops come and seal off the whole block” said Akira.

“This is Akira with cameraman prufulla ” with that she completed their first report.

   Not long after that the sirens barred the street. First only a handful of cops arrived they were the first responders. They usually comprise all patrol cars or the on duty cops at the nearest station. They usually just do all that is required to preserve the scene to the respective specialized cops and forensic staff. So the first thing they did was seal off the block. And they canvased the neighborhood for any witnesses and take their accounts or detain them for further enquiry. They were followed by some plain clothed and higher ranked officials who started the investigation and enquiry. It was nearly 20 minutes after the arrival of first responders did ambulances blazed in, and then came the bomb squad which checked the aggressor’s car and truck for booby traps and secondary explosives. To their relief there were none.

   Akira and prafulla stayed there for another hour or two before deciding to leave to their office. By then they could even see one or two of their colleagues around the scene. And even the heavens themselves had started to weep.

~~~~End of time and rain washes away pain and stain~~

Chapter 2.c:- Ignorance- a bliss or blindness of soul

 Focus: Kid with the sword.

                The kid started running; he was running faster than he thought he ever could. He only stopped when suddenly breathless and his stomach felt like an immovable stone rather than the lump of muscle. He felt as though he had just woken up from a very realistic nightmare; the nightmare of being a passenger and not the driver in one’s own body. He tried real hard to shake it off pinch and wake up, it is not real it cant be how could I kill so many people , why did I kill those people ,what is happening to me? So many questions bombarded the back of his head but no response. He cannot go to his school he knows this how does he know, how does he know that the wave after wave of question kept crashing but no response. But only one question he could actually was he back, he was the driver again; he was back to his old self all but with the exception of a sword hanging on his back. It looked like a mummy wrapped in cloth from its own hilt.

                That’s when it started the rain. It poured down heavy from the first drops hit the ground. It looked like it would never stop. Neither can he go to school now nor go back home, so he knew the one place which kept him safe and happy and that is where he headed. As he walked somewhere behind him just barely within the eyeshot a dark shadow loomed, moving slowly but at very uniform pace.

As soon as the kid arrived at his destination he threw his bag on a heap of straw. His destination had a roof but no walls; it was not far from civilization but it still hidden from the civilized; it was under a bridge on the bank of one of the only clear water rivers still flowing. Even when he threw his bag he couldn’t get rid of the sword. All he could was barely shake it, but yet he felt no burden on his shoulders and his back from which it hung. He started his favorite pass time throwing the stones in to water making hops. He maximum no of hoops he could ever do was 4 no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make the stone take 1 more hops; but today he could barely make 2 hops. He kept throwing until he could make 4 again. Now satisfied his strength was back he finally made one attempt to remove the sword from his back; this time he was successful. It was now again in his hands majestic and gallant, he couldn’t help but admire it; a sense swept all through him a feeling when one observes his muscles after many hard workouts. The cloth on form sword’s hilt rested on the ground like a curled up snake.

Now the kid made that hard decision if no sword then no problem no troubles so he pulled the sword back held in both hands and swung it towards the river and when he reached his expected direction he let it go. The sword lunged in to air and charged through as bull charging towards his target. As soon as the kid let go of the sword the cloth from the hilt sprang to life flew in the air 

not in the direction he threw the sword but towards the kid  .

~~~~End of Ignorance a bliss or blindness of soul~~~~~