(Sorry for the delay, folks! It's been a long time... I shouldn't have left you... If you don't laugh, you're lame ;-) Anyway, this is my new story, and I'll be posting periodically with new parts. Thanks for reading! I'M BACK!)
“Do you see him?” Crosshair heard, but her attention was focused on the image through the scope. The butt of the rifle rested comfortably in the crevice between her underarm and breast. She gripped the trigger lightly as she focused on the target, ready to take the shot if need be. She had her shoulder-length, black hair in a tight ponytail to eliminate rouge strands from falling in front of her aquamarine eyes.
In the dark of night, her black leotard seemed to make her ‘invisible’ to unsuspecting travelers. And in the woods of the suburban, and homey Rightdale, invisibility was exactly what Crosshair needed. The belt hung loose enough that she wasn’t troubled by the weight of the equipment, but tight enough that if unlatched, she would immediately know.
“I’ve got him.” She responded with a pinch of irritation in her voice. It might have been because she enjoyed performing her missions solo, or because her concentration was interrupted. She had the muzzle pointed toward the second story window of the russet house.
“I know what you’re thinking.” The voice behind her was warm, but distant all the while. He seemed to be playing toward her sentimental side.
“That he’s not worth our time?” She continued to frown through the scope, a figure in her sights; a boy, in fact. From what she saw, he was her age, and quite innocent at that, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“The change will begin very soon. You know as well as I do that we need to be ready.” The voice drifted into her ears, calm and soothing, but it didn’t matter.
“We don’t need another one getting in the way.” Crosshair put a bit of pressure on the trigger, the boy would never know what hit him. Then, as she almost let her wants become a reality; a gloved hand lightly gripped her arm, pulling it and the rifle down. The seventeen year-old let her frown deepen into a scowl as she turned her gaze to her hooded accomplice. Well, ‘accomplice’ was completely inaccurate. The six-foot shadow was more of a father to her than she could ever say about her own father… that is if she knew her real father.
“Don’t let uncertainty cloud your mind. He will have a role to play just like you and I.” His auburn eyes reached into hers, looking to see her thoughts; her dreams. A relaxing wave of calm washed over her, and she knew exactly what he was doing. The girl immediately turned away, kneeling toward her small duffle bag amongst the crunchy leaves.
“Don’t.” She began to disassemble the rifle, securing the pieces in the bag. Crosshair blushed as her thoughts went to what he might have seen.
“Your nightmares-“ The concern in his voice rose. She felt him right behind her now, his piercing eyes on her back.
“They’re fine, Midnight.” Zipping the bag, she slung it over her shoulder. Looking back toward the house, the distance became relevant without the scope, but the boy’s silhouette remained in the window, “Besides, you wanted to show him to me. I saw him. Can we go?”
The hood of Midnight’s tattered trench coat came down just above his eyes, untied to show his white dress shirt and black, leather pants. His pallid skin sagged just a little over his cheekbones, and deep creases led away from his diffident eyes. He slowly waved his arm toward the house, “You will see. He will blossom from the change, and you will see.”
Crosshair turned, gripped the strap of the duffle bag. She scoffed as she ventured deeper into the woods, her feet crushing the dead foliage, “Whatever, but if gets out of control, I’ll kill him myself.”
Given her past, Midnight couldn’t blame her for being so jaded, but he also couldn’t help but cringe at her disconnected nature. Watching her disappear into the black; he would catch up with her later. At the moment, he shifted his gaze back to the house. The light of the bedroom was off, joining the rest of the house in a quiet slumber. The man let a tiny smirk grace his mug, then drifted into the night along with his hopes for what was to come.
