Post by neverever on Mar 31, 2010 8:50:46 GMT -7
Maybe if he had been in London a little longer he would've known better than to take the bridge at night. Maybe if he was a little more familiar with the city he would've thought twice about taking the 'easy' route back home. But Fate didn't like things that came labeled with a 'Maybe' or 'Perhaps' or 'What If'; so there was little room for err as Everett eyed the bridge briefly before giving a shrug of his shoulders and heading in its direction. So conniving, that darkly robed woman.
The night was young but seasoned enough that the streets were quickly emptying. Only a few darling souls dodged around in the falling darkness as the last remnants of twilight faded away. If he had been one of them, one of the humans, he would have fled too. They were well aware of what lurked in the shadows. Smart prey was always aware of its enemy. If only he knew more about his enemy, he would have been aware too. Instead it was with an almost casual naivete that he headed toward the Millennium Bridge. The fog was rising up off the frigid water of the River Tyne, blanketing the structure with heavy gray mass. A few feet in front of him was as far as he could see through the thick. Everett adjusted his grasp on the pack he carried on his back, shifting its weight as he made his way across the bridge.
Below a barge was passing, a narrow miss with the drawbridge lowered. Green lights twinkled on it, reflecting off the dark, dancing water. Still it beat on against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. Ahead was a shadow, a black figure in the fog. A figment? Maybe? No. Fate didn't condone maybe. A figure there was. Everett was holding his breath as he drew near, a hand moving to the waist of his jeans to the old standard Desert Eagle. Long outdated but faithful as ever. Wait laid waiting for him in the darkness was something he could have foreseen.
The night was young but seasoned enough that the streets were quickly emptying. Only a few darling souls dodged around in the falling darkness as the last remnants of twilight faded away. If he had been one of them, one of the humans, he would have fled too. They were well aware of what lurked in the shadows. Smart prey was always aware of its enemy. If only he knew more about his enemy, he would have been aware too. Instead it was with an almost casual naivete that he headed toward the Millennium Bridge. The fog was rising up off the frigid water of the River Tyne, blanketing the structure with heavy gray mass. A few feet in front of him was as far as he could see through the thick. Everett adjusted his grasp on the pack he carried on his back, shifting its weight as he made his way across the bridge.
Below a barge was passing, a narrow miss with the drawbridge lowered. Green lights twinkled on it, reflecting off the dark, dancing water. Still it beat on against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. Ahead was a shadow, a black figure in the fog. A figment? Maybe? No. Fate didn't condone maybe. A figure there was. Everett was holding his breath as he drew near, a hand moving to the waist of his jeans to the old standard Desert Eagle. Long outdated but faithful as ever. Wait laid waiting for him in the darkness was something he could have foreseen.