A Life Left Behind.

[Tactical Nightmare]

// My first (ongoing) attempt at a back-story to my characters (some of them, anyway) quite likely full of grammatical and spelling errors. Comments/Feedback/Criticisms of any kind are welcome and appreciated.


(Edit: Well, I guess a feedback section would be helpful, wouldn't it?)
FEEDBACK

Updates are likely, boredom does that to me.

Hugs, -TN

Edit: Well, story's finished. Hope you liked it, feel free to say so. With 157 views i'd like to think someone read it, But maybe not. See you around. -TN


[color=#000000]0040 Hours GC time- Location unknown

"[color=#ff6633]Keep an eye out, if this safehouse is discovered we'll have to move him again." [color=#000000]Commanded Imalt Zimmerman, Dialing up the intensity of his laser pistol and shutting the door on his partner's face.

[color=#000000] He turned to the man chained to the chair in the center of the room. He was slumped forward, unconscious. His untidy short black hair, with just the beginnings of gray at the roots, despite his young age, hung over his face. Blood dripped down off his cut lip onto the red and gray suit he wore.

[color=#000000] Zimmerman picked up a cup full of water from the table beside the chair, then splashed it over the man's face. The man jerked in his seat and looked up at Imalt. Imalt was impressed, this man had killed two of the people he'd sent to capture him. The remaining men had taken their sorrow out on him with their fists, but the man still glared at Imalt with those cold, gray, determined eyes.

"[color=#ff6633]Tell me your name." [color=#000000]Demanded Imalt, sitting on the table beside the chair, dropping the cup on the floor, where it shattered into porcelain shards.

[color=#000000] The man growled something that Imalt hadn't understood.


"[color=#ff6633]Say again?"[color=#000000] He said, putting a hand to his ear theatrically and picking a scalpel from the table he sat on.

"[color=#008080]Word for bloody word, what I said was: ''Your worst nightmare, You son of a syphilitic whore." [color=#000000]The man said, Grinning impudently.

[color=#000000] Imalt kicked the man in the chin, adding another bruise to the collection the man had on his face already. "[color=#ff6633]Take that as proof of my lack of a sense of humor, will ya?" [color=#000000]He said, Leaning back again. "[color=#ff6633]Now answer me, what is your god-damned name?"

[color=#000000] The man looked up at him again, an amused grimace on his face, pulling his sharp features into a condescending sneer. "[color=#008080]You sent five goons to kidnap me and you don't know my name?"

"[color=#ff6633]No, but I want to make sure that I've got the right man.[color=#000000]" Imalt leaned forward. [color=#000000]"[color=#ff6633]Are you or are you not Tobias Regenauld Fisher, Captain of the Archangel Research Vessel?[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#008080]Yeah, Guilty as charged, Gov'na.[color=#000000]" Said Tobias.

[color=#000000] "[color=#ff6633]Can the corny accent, You're Bretonian, not Victorian English.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#008080]You know your history, mate. I'm impressed.[color=#000000]" Said Tobias, Leaning back in his chair, Rolling his shoulders as if having his hands chained to the chair behind him was straining them. Which it probably was. "[color=#008080]So ya know where I'm from, What else do you know?[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#ff6633]Probably more than you'd like. I know that you killed my brother for instance.[color=#000000]" Said Imalt.

[color=#000000] "[color=#008080]Really? Could ya give me a hint? I'm not proud to say it, but I've killed a lot of people who could have been your brother.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] Imalt chuckled. "[color=#ff6633]Yeah, I know you have. And you know what? I don't blame you. It was your job. My brother was an idiot. But he was my brother. I'm only asking you to give up whoever hired you to kill him.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] Tobias grimaced again. "[color=#008080]Well, I may or may not tell you. But it'd be helpful to know who it was I'm supposed to have killed.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] Imalt picked up the data-pad he'd left on the table, flipped to the picture of his brother and held it out. "[color=#ff6633]Othello Zimmerman, Smuggler. Owner of Zimmerman produce. A front business for small arms dealing.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] Something in Tobias's face changed, a flicker of recognition. "[color=#008080]Who the hell are you?[color=#000000]" he asked.

[color=#000000] "[color=#ff6633]Imalt Zimmerman. Small time smuggler, like him. But I like to think that I'm smarter and haven't pissed anyone off enough to have them hire a thug to kill me.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#008080]I'm an assassin, I mean I WAS an assassin. Not a thug, Assassins have style. Get it right.[color=#000000]" Grumbled Tobias.

[color=#000000] "[color=#ff6633]Look Mr. Fisher, I know it was just a job. That's the only thing stopping me from cutting off your extremities with a hacksaw. Just tell me who hired you and you can go. I may even hire you to kill them.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#008080]I cordially invite you to suck it.[color=#000000]" Was Tobias's reply.

[color=#000000] Imalt picked up a hacksaw from the table. Tobias didn't flinch, but sneered again, disdainfully. He was right, Imalt agreed, He did have style, still, style couldn't dull blades. Imalt stood up and walked slowly around to the back of Tobias's chair, then rested the hacksaw against his shoulder. "[color=#ff6633]You want to rethink that last answer?[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#008080]Nope, Offer still stands.[color=#000000]" Growled Tobias, His shoulders tensing involuntarily.

[color=#000000] Imalt stood for a while, hacksaw poised to cut, flexing his fingers on the grip... A moment's indecisiveness then he took the saw off Fisher's arm, and walked back to the table, where he sat, twirling the saw around in his hand. "[color=#ff6633]You know.... I've always wondered what Motivates people like you.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#008080]People like me?[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] "[color=#ff6633]Assassins. Hired guns. Hitmen.[color=#000000]"

[color=#000000] Tobias leaned forward in his chair, the look he gave Imalt was calculating. "[color=#008080]Are you asking me to tell you my story?[color=#000000]"

// TBC.