A Non-Way story.

[ReaperGal]

Alright. This isn't done yet, and it ends abrubtly. I'm still working on it.


The snow fell from the sky. It was a gorgeous sight, lazy flakes meandering to the street below. They fell softly and slowly, basking in the easy fall before coming to a gentle landing. The sun finished setting, and its red glow faded from the streets, replaced by the uneasy yellow flickering of streetlights, and the snow continued its task, coating all surfaces in white. One light flickered out. Several young children, no older than eight or nine, tossed snowballs at each other, laughing and enjoying the ecstasy of true youth.
They stopped suddenly. The crunching sound of wet snow being packed by footprints was getting progressively louder, and the high pitched wail of a crying baby. The kids looked into the dark area left by the failed streetlight uneasily. Some glanced at each other in a shared expression of fear, while the oldest boys nudged and grinned to one another, daring and cajoling, too filled with bravado already to show their fears.
An image could just barely be seen in the shadows now, but any distinguishing features were hidden still. As it came closer, more could be seen. Whoever it was, he was tall, and not too wide. He entered the light, revealing his arms clasped around a bundle of cloth while holding it to his chest. The man's head was covered by a loose hood, cut from a black piece of cloth and held both on his shirt and in shape with hundreds of small clasping pins. The top half of his face was hidden, but the children could still see his mouth and nose. He had a stringy goatee, and pale, thin lips. He shook violently. It seemed as if he had taken off his coat to wrap around the baby.
"Where are the sisters?" he asked. He shifted the enwrapped baby, and as he did, a piece of the coat came unwrapped. It revealed a curvaceous gray insignia. Once the children saw it they all backed away. He repositioned the baby so he could hold with one hand, and walked quickly towards the closest child. He was a ten or eleven year old boy, old enough to be afraid but too young to know when to run. The man grabbed they boy by the chest and peered down at him. “Where are the sisters?” he asked again, more forcefully. The boy stared at the baby and the man’s shirt, trying to glance into his hood. He saw that the man had taken his coat off to wrap it around the baby. The hooded shirt he wore was a loose weave, and the cold was obviously piercing to his flesh. He was shaking.
“The… The… Sisters.” Began the boy. The man pulled his shirt threateningly. “Uh, they have a shelter less than a block away. Th… That way…” he said, pointing his finger down an alley. The man dropped him, and strode off.
“That was intense.” Said another boy. “Did you see the symbol? I think he was in the Gangs.” He finished. The boy who had been grabbed straightened his coat. They had always thought people like him ate babies. Maybe he was going to have the sisters cook it for him, he thought.

The man walked as fast as he could, he heavy, metal-plated boots pressing deep indentations into the snow. He made sure the baby was protected from the cold. The baby coughed pitifully. The man stopped and sighed. He was starting to like it, and he thought it might have pneumonia. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take care of it, especially in the winter. He looked around, looking for the Sister’s shelter. He found a stairway that led down to a white door, with a green X. He shifted the baby so he held it with one arm, and knocked on the door as hard as he could with the other. A panel in the middle of the X slid open. The wrinkled eyes of an aged woman glared at him untrustingly.
“I have a child.” He said. The woman’s eyes widened with cynicism. He held the baby up to the panel, and she opened the door. He walked out of the snow, and into a small, sterile antechamber. The man took of his hood. His hair was short, dark, and limp. His eyes were a dark gray, and gave an impression of captivity.
“She’s sick.” He said, looking directly into the woman’s pale blue eyes. “She’s not mine. I found her a week ago, and I think her mother left her.” The woman didn’t seem convinced. “Please, you don’t need to believe me. Just take her and take care of her.” The woman shrugged and reached for the sleeping baby. He passed her to the woman. She unwrapped the baby from his coat, but stopped when she saw the symbol. She stared at him in shock.
“I don’t know the symbols,” she said. “Which…”
“I’m with the Mages.” Said the man. “We found her in Blood Pool turf. They’d kill her rather than help her.”
“And what were you doing there?” asked the woman.
“Getting revenge.”
“I knew it.” She said, arrogantly. “You’re all the same.”
“You’d say that.” He said. He suddenly flung out one hand and punched the wall hard, almost breaking his fist. “Of course you’d say that.” She hardly reacted to this outburst, only widening her eyes slightly. He rubbed his knuckles, looking at the congruent symbols now imprinted in his hand. He had seen the mosaic pattern on the wall before. Now that he looked at it, it seemed almost hypnotic. He looked back at the woman.
“You will take care of that baby, right?” The woman sighed, exasperated.
“I suppose.” She said, staring at it. She finished unwrapping the baby from his coat. Underneath, the baby had been securely wrapped in a towel. The man nodded, reaching for his coat. She passed it to him without looking at him. He swung it around one arm, around his back and on the other arm almost effortlessly. He strode out the door, and back into the shadows.
The woman watched him go appraisingly before locking the door. She opened the door to the main compound only after she was sure he was gone. Walking inside, she moved quickly down a narrow stairwell, holding the baby to her chest. Her dark robe swept dust off the floor and into the air, sweeping after her as she made her way down the stairs. She finally reached the end of the stairs, facing a large iron door. She waited as the camera scanned her, and the door swung open with a screech. She looked at the baby. It hadn’t cried in a while. She wondered for a moment if it was still alive. As she walked, she held her finger slightly over its nose, feeling for breath. She felt the smallest exchange of air. Satisfied, she held it closer and walked into The Convent.
The entrance hall was wide and spacious. The roof however was low, although not enough to be constricting. Murals of tales from the Tetriarcon adorned the walls in colorful murals, although they were somewhat muted by the lack of light. A door opened from the center of one such mural. A rather Neanderthal woman stepped out, also in the same dark robes, except she wore metal plated gloves and covering for her left shoulder. It was evident looking at her that it was to protect her arm from the kickback of the extremely large rifle she held. It had three wide barrels, leading back to a circular drum. This particular woman carried three replacement drums on her belt, for easy and fast reloading.
The Sisters had once been pacifists, but that was from Before. Now, pacifists were easy targets. The older Sister who held the baby leaned her head down.
“What do you carry?” asked the armed sister. Her voice was deeper then that of the average man, but it still held an air of femininity.
“A child.” Responded the elderly sister. “It was left her by a man who wishes it to have asylum.”
“The mother will decide.” Said the other sister. She strapped the gun to one wide hip, and with the other hand she grabbed the baby. Her hand was large enough to hold the baby almost completely, and she held it out away from her. Without warmth and a rhythmic heartbeat, the baby soon awoke. The woman seemed not to care. It writhed in her hand and it shrieked. Its mind was too young to truly remember, but nightmares would plague it for the rest of its life. It would have nightmares of a black hallway, and then white things with no face taking her. In its dreams, its clothing was removed, and it was put on a cold metal table. Once on this table, it was unable to move. In her dreams, two metal hands, each finger with its own light, shining all over its body.

The man entered another dark alley, and turned a corner.
“Hey bastard!” yelled a voice from the end of the street. Before even his mind could comprehend what was happening, he reached to his hip and pulled out a weapon. It was closest to a crossbow in design, but a normal crossbow to this was like a stick compared to a scalpel. He wasn’t thinking of it, but this crossbow could fire 70 bolts a minute, launching them up to a quarter of a mile. It was also able to imbed the bolts six inches into a concrete wall. Still, his mind didn’t register this. He just registered the three figures at the end of the road, each with red bands tied to their arms, and the bolts flying at him. He swung back behind the wall, as the bolts ripped out jagged chunks of brick. He hardly glanced around the corner and fired. A bolt shot past his head, so close it ruffled his hair. He pulled back, and loaded his crossbow with a clip of incendiary bolts. He glanced around again, but as he did so, he saw a bolt flying straight towards his eye.

A high screeching voice screamed from the walls as metal hands finished scanning the baby.
“THE GIRL-CHILD IS ACCEPTED.” It wailed. The avatars of The Mother entered the room, clad in their white, skintight outfits and masks. They picked up the wailing baby, and placed her softly in front of the guard, who was kneeling on the floor, her face to the ground. The avatars left the hall and a minute later, when she was sure the avatars had gone, she lifted her head and picked up the child. She walked it back to the entrance hall, where she gave it back to the elderly woman.
“It’s a girl-child. She can remain under our protection.” The old sister bowed her head, and took back the baby, and attempted to shush it. A few minutes after the transfer, the woman had quieted the baby, and walked her towards the medical area.

Several days later, a girl sat in her room, facing the wall. She was trying to remember the last part of her prayers, but her mind was elsewhere. She looked around, and listened. When she didn’t hear any footprints, she leapt onto her bed, lying on her stomach. She reached under her pillow and pulled out a book with no cover, long having lost it to age. It was a novel that had been smuggled into the convent from a long time ago, and it was VERY heretical. It broke several laws of the Convent, and it was VERY heretical. She read, imagining herself as the girl…
She slid her hands down his chest, feeling all his muscles. He pushed closer to her, pinning her to the wall. She wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her legs, eager with anticipation. He undid the buckle on his pants, lusting fo…
Suddenly, she heard feet walking down the hall, and she quickly put the book under her pillow and knelt back down on the floor. The footsteps came to a halt outside her room, and she closed her eyes and pretended to pray. The door slid open, and the Mother Superior walked in.
“I want to talk to you, Annika.” She said calmly.
“I have to finish my prayers, Mother Superior.”
“They can wait.” She said, and walked into the hallway. She waited until Annika had left her room, before she continued. “You know that you’ve been something of an anomaly at the sisterhood.”
“Yes, Mother Superior.”
“I think it would be best if you had some way to settle down, and have responsibility.”
“Yes, Mother Superior.”
“I’m glad you agree, daughter.” She opened a door, revealing a small nursery. “From now on, this child is your responsibility.” She bent over, picking up a quiet child. She handed a baby to Annika, a subtle smile on her normally emotionless face. Mother Superior was an elderly woman, but far from the oldest. Annika was almost her opposite. Annika was a pretty young girl, with short dark hair and bright inquiring eyes that revealed her innocence and urge to be different. The black habit she wore covered the new curves of her body, only recently revealed. She had begun puberty late, but when it happened it had happened almost over night. That was when she had gotten the novel from a sister who was getting older, and was ready to live her life more chastely.
“Mother superior…” she said, uncertainly.
“Now, you wouldn’t be denying me, daughter?” she said in a tone that suggested it would be very foolish to disagree.”
“Of course not, Mother Superior. If I may speak?” Mother Superior nodded. “Mother Superior, I don’t know enough about children to take care of one…”
“You will not be alone.” Said Mother Superior. “Others will help you. But the main responsibility falls on your shoulders.” Mother superior turned away, and left the room, leaving Annika with the sleeping child.

A huge metal door in an apartment across town was flung open.
“Get him inside!” Shouted the man who now held the door open. Two men carried a third by his shoulders and legs, and put him carefully on a long futon couch. His face was almost totally bandaged. One of them unwrapped the bandages while the others watched anxiously. He finished, revealing the bloody mess underneath. The bolt hadn’t hit his brain, but it had ripped out his eye, pulling it through the side of his skull and shattering the bone. Even now, blood was bubbling to the surface. It had taken days for the three of them to take him into friendly territory and a few more before they had reached this sparse dwelling, chosen as a middle point. The Mages had sent out several more people, including a healer.
This area was Shatterbulb turf, a gang that was neutral to the mages. They wouldn’t help them in a fight, but they had heard the Shatterbulbs had sent out their own group that would be able to at least keep him alive longer.

[OverlordBill]

You. Me. Zucchini. Kitchen table. Now.

Seriously. You're like Happenstan but female and around more.

[ReaperGal]

You. Me. Zucchini. Kitchen table. Now.

I'm both flattered and frightened. ^-^

[Glenn47]

Wow...I hope to god that this isn't like Wrong Way and Teen's unnamed story, where you stop writing after getting bored. Cuz I wanna hear the rest of it, and then a second book. VERY impressive.

[Teenr0cker]

Wow...I hope to god that this isn't like Wrong Way and Teen's unnamed story, where you stop writing after getting bored. Cuz I wanna hear the rest of it, and then a second book. VERY impressive.

Well I would name it, but "The Wrong Way" was aready taken

[Takarious]

You should write smut novels... But it's not bad at all (Which is high praise coming from me).

[ReaperGal]

You should write smut novels... But it's not bad at all (Which is high praise coming from me).

Smut novels? I'd nev... I...

Fine. I have written some. But I'm not posting them here.

[Porter]

Why not? We love smut. Well I love smut.

[ReaperGal]

Why not? We love smut. Well I love smut.

Because I'm shy and innocent.

[Porter]

It's the internet man.

[Glenn47]

Mmm....smut novels...

Usually the dirtier a girl writes smut novels, the more they fantasize about those sort of things. And guys...well, guys usually prefer checking over the girls' works.

[ReaperGal]

Mmm....smut novels...

Usually the dirtier a girl writes smut novels, the more they fantasize about those sort of things. And guys...well, guys usually prefer checking over the girls' works.

Yeah, and I don't want you guys looking at my fantasies.

[Glenn47]

*insert curious/turned on/appalled by humankind's shallow ways/happy face here*

[ReaperGal]

*insert curious/turned on/appalled by humankind's shallow ways/happy face here*

I'm dirty enough to write them, but not enough to share. Sorry.

[EmperorJeramyu]

This story kicks ass. I wish I could write original stuff like this.