Well, I need to be off, so here's the last of it for now. Kyubi: please let me know if you want me to keep sending you these before posting, or if I should just put them up.
Kireiray/Garion
The soft whirr of the ceiling fan was, for once, quite audible in the bar; as it was only the early afternoon, the place was empty save for Garion and the bartender. The former sat quietly in the corner, staring into a shot of amber whiskey, and from time to time, his hands would stray to the Tasers stuffed into his belt before he caught himself and brought them back up to the table. For his part, the bartender seemed to take no notice of this nervous tic; rather, he continued polishing the glasses lining the wall, occasionally pouring another shot of whiskey from a brownish bottle and setting it down in front of Garion.
Damn it...I can't believe it triggered early. Garion rubbed his forehead blearily and swore to himself, then picked up the glass and poured it down a dry throat.
Too sweet, he thought with a wince before fading back into the past.
I checked it over and over again, and it was all set to go off once he sat down in the driver's seat...
With a shake of his head, Garion tried once more to dismiss the memory, barely hours old, from his mind. And yet, it remained so
real, the echoing blast of his bomb tearing Kireiray's car to shreds. By itself, he wouldn't have minded it, but what inevitably followed had shaken him to his very core. Every time the memory surfaced in his mind, he relived the moment of himself leaning out from cover, expecting to see the completion of his goal, and instead beheld Kireiray running towards the burning wreckage, knife in hand. Then, no matter how hard he tried to pull himself away, Kireiray met his gaze, the promise of revenge dancing hot in his eyes as he smiled evilly...
"Enough!" Garion shouted, slamming a fist down on the tabletop with a crunch and a clatter, and the visions disappeared, replaced by...pain? Puzzled, he frowned, raising his hand to his eyes, and the afternoon light sparkled in the side of his hand. From there, his sight moved to the ruins of the shot glass on the table, and he shrugged slowly, tiredly.
Oh.
For a short while, Garion remained as he was, lost among the grooves and lines of the table. Then, suddenly, he felt something alight on his face; its touch was light, but also unwelcome, like the sensation of a fly landing upon his nose.
Irritated, he swiped a hand over his face, and then gasped in surprise as he felt the fly flit upwards, out of his reach, and then dart back down to bite at his nose. A stabbing agony flared between his eyes as the creature tore into his flesh, sending a stream of blood running down into his mouth.
The metallic taste in his mouth sent a surge of fear driving up into his guts, and Garion lurched out of his chair, clawing at the fly with his fingertips. Each time, though, it danced away from his strikes, then closed in for attacks of its own; soon, blood was streaming freely from his many wounds, spattering over the table and the walls at his every move.
I have to kill this! I can't die here! Kill... kill kill KILL! In desperation, Garion slammed his face against the wall to crush the beast, rebounding off hard wood, and as the floor careened towards him, everything disappeared behind a rising wave of black.
The bartender looked down to the body lying in a growing puddle of blood and nodded, then reached up to his face, fingers digging into his skin, and pulled. A second later, Kireiray's face emerged from behind the latex ruins of the mask, bearing a sadistic grin.
Excellent, he thought, spitting towards Garion's corpse, then carefully picked up the whiskey bottle and placed it in a bag. "I sure can mix a drink, can't I, Garion?" he whispered mockingly. "I'll bet you never even noticed it in your own little world."
And with that, Kireiray made for the door, turning out the lights as he left. He was, after all, the last one to leave.
(Can anyone guess what ended up in Garion's whiskey, by the way? :evil
Google