Well then, that had been refreshing. She thought. The almost ethereal floating mass that floated and fluttered around her. Reminded her of the good times with her favorite nanny. They would play with her sheets while she insisted she help make the bed. The parachute finally settled over her, what life the fall had afforded it fled. The stillness of it was eerie, much like the eeriness she experienced when her nanny lay there in her arms. Bleeding out, after her father’s Chancellor had her executed for playing with her.
A gurgle, and a cough, let her know that she wasn’t alone. Seriously! She thought, He survived that fall!
Slowly she got up, unbuckled the parachute, and pulled out her revolver.
She stalked to the man, laying in an ever growing pool of his own blood. He coughed again, spitting out a spray of blood. “Do you really think,” he coughed again, “that you could kill me so easily D'onne?” his voice taunted, as the blood stained his opulent, remains of his garments.
"Why, yes," she retorted, "but then again, my father would have never hired you if you were!" Cocking the revolver, her cybernetic eye burning a ruddy crimson.
He watched as she brought the weapon in line with his face. Staring down the barrel, he watched, almost tauntingly, as her finger squeezed the trigger, and the hammer found its home. To his credit, the High Chancellor Ulanti never even flinched.
The tranquility, and peace, of the happy flutteres of the parachute, were ruptured. As the shell gave birth to the angry, molten metal, and spiraling projectile. It burst forth from the muzzle of her gun, with such determination. That even the Chancellor's skull offered little resistance, as the hollow point blossomed.
It was then, that D'onne, for that fleeting moment, wondered how angry her father would be. The projectile, finished it's grusome work. Shattering both the Chancellor's skull, and D'onne's thoughts in much the same way as the skull. When the chunky remains splattered across her face.
Spitting out a chunky combination of skull, brain, and hair. She thought That's what I get for fiering at point blank range! As she wiped his remains off her face.
A gurgle, and a cough, let her know that she wasn’t alone. Seriously! She thought, He survived that fall!
Slowly she got up, unbuckled the parachute, and pulled out her revolver.
She stalked to the man, laying in an ever growing pool of his own blood. He coughed again, spitting out a spray of blood. “Do you really think,” he coughed again, “that you could kill me so easily D'onne?” his voice taunted, as the blood stained his opulent, remains of his garments.
"Why, yes," she retorted, "but then again, my father would have never hired you if you were!" Cocking the revolver, her cybernetic eye burning a ruddy crimson.
He watched as she brought the weapon in line with his face. Staring down the barrel, he watched, almost tauntingly, as her finger squeezed the trigger, and the hammer found its home. To his credit, the High Chancellor Ulanti never even flinched.
The tranquility, and peace, of the happy flutteres of the parachute, were ruptured. As the shell gave birth to the angry, molten metal, and spiraling projectile. It burst forth from the muzzle of her gun, with such determination. That even the Chancellor's skull offered little resistance, as the hollow point blossomed.
It was then, that D'onne, for that fleeting moment, wondered how angry her father would be. The projectile, finished it's grusome work. Shattering both the Chancellor's skull, and D'onne's thoughts in much the same way as the skull. When the chunky remains splattered across her face.
Spitting out a chunky combination of skull, brain, and hair. She thought That's what I get for fiering at point blank range! As she wiped his remains off her face.
