Because You Demanded It

Cold wind blowing hard against his skin roused him from the depths of unconsciousness. Jumbled images of violence and betrayal spiralled through his mind, mere flashes of a thing that may or may not have happened. He didn't think long on them, knowing that his head was not yet ready to yield up any answers. Time would surrender the solutions to these riddles.

As the wind rushed past his ears, inside it's dull roar he could dimly perceive other sounds. The sounds of engines. Someone, at least, was nearby. He opened his eyes, and was greatly suprised.

I'm falling!

In the darkness of night, the ground appeared as no more than one black expanse, dotted with a rainbow of neon lights rapidly growing larger, nearer. Monolithic skyscrapers rose up out of the night landscape towards him, past him, up into the twilight sky. New visions appeared to him. Visions of a window shattering; visions of a room shrinking into the distance as he was forcefully ejected out the broken window; small figures within standing and watching. The people who had done this to him.

There was no time now to dwell on what had already happened. All effort must be concentrated on the here and now, if he were to avoid the messy fate rushing towards him at a rate too fast to calculate. There was no time, if he wanted to survive.

He took a deep, calming breath. With feet apart and arms outstretched, his cloak flapping and billowing, he slowed his fall minutely, an imperceptible amount to any ordinary person. For this person, though, it would be enough. Through careful maneuvering of limbs, he angled his decent towards the side of the nearest building. As story after story whisked past, windows dark and his plight unseen, a flagpole, jutting from the buildings' side promised to intercept him.

Composed, in control, he visualised the soles of his feet gliding across the flagpole. He saw his left hand gripping the pole ever so briefly. He was falling too fast; any sudden stops would mean more harm than safety. And hanging from that flagpole was no safe place to be in any event. But a series of light contacts would each slow him down a bit more, and may make all the difference between being alive and being a memory. At the very least, he might give himself a chance at choosing his landing spot. Better that than accepting whatever fate selected for him. The flagpole slid past foot and hand just as he planned.

One way or another, the fall was almost over. The ground loomed close now, the neon dots now readable billboard advertisments. Even indiviual people were discernable under those lights.

Between him and the ground, a landing pad now reached out from the side of the building. He would have to get everything he could out of it, for he saw no other obstacles to slow himself on. The flat surface and flashing landing lights made it an easy target. The trick would be to not hit it too hard. He took another calming breath... and then another one.

As his feet touched down, he instantly folded up into ball, rolling across the hard metal surface. Still, he was travelling too fast; The air was blasted from his lungs as his back hit the deck. He heard the loud crack as his head bounced off the unforgiving surface. Sharp pangs rang out from all over his body. He ignored his body's cries of pain and pushed it's clouding influence out of his mind. A sliver of satisfaction from having solid ground beneath him slipped away as his roll carried him off the landing pad's far edge. Now there was only a hundred feet left to drop, perhaps less.

But it seemed destiny was not entirely cruel. Hidden from view by the landing pad, a vast awning stretched around the base of the skyscraper. He was headed straight for it, and for the first time, permitted himself a small smile.

He landed smack dab on the awning. Which would have been perfect... had he accounted for it's elastic qualities. It stretched beneath his falling bulk until he hit his tailbone on the ground. "AAAAA! AAAA AAAAAAAHHHHH!" he cried.

But the awning did not permit further injury. Instead, it catapulted him back into the air, almost half as high as the landing pad. Not just upwards, but outwards, too, so that when he came crashing back down, it was into a heap of trash across the alley. There, he lay utterly still, and all was silent.


For awhile.


Later, consciousness returned once again. The smells and flavours of the garbage he was ensconced in assaulted his senses. He could feel vermin crawling about inside his clothes. Yet, impossibly, he had survived. This fact alone did not give him much comfort. If those visions he had were true, someone wanted him dead. That someone might be along shortly to discover his fate, or at least conceal the evidence. But before he could get up and at 'em, the whisper of fabric on pavement called out to his ears from the shadows, and then a voice.

"Good, good. You are still alive."

"Dor do." he replied. Even to him, though, the words made no sense. Perhaps his injuries were more severe than he knew. His brain felt hot.

From the shadows, a dark cloaked figure emerged. His face was obscured, his hood pulled low.

"Yes, yes. I know what happened to you. I know who did this to you. It was the same man who betrayed me. The same man who once tried to kill me in my sleep!"

"Duda do?"

"I have some right here." A small green bottle appeared in the hand of the dark figure. From it, he poured a bubbling yellow liquid into the mouth of the man lying in the trash.

"Good, eh?"

Indeed it was. Cold, refreshing, melony.

"Do?"

"We are not safe here. We must leave, before we are discovered. There are plans to be made, and revenge to be had."

Slowly, with the dark figures assistance, he extricated himself from the heap of trash. He stretched, feeling the good feel of solid ground beneath his feet. Attempting to brush the bits of refuse off himself, he let out a horrified gasp, discovering his right arm had somehow been neatly severed below the elbow.

"We'll worry about that later. Come quickly!" said the shadowy man. Together, they stole away into the night, not to be heard from again... until the time was right.