Pictures of War (Raivh and Fao)

[Raivh]

“Shit!” he shouted, running as bits of debris and dust went flying into the air and scattering all around him. He’d had close calls before, but that was his closest all month. Panting, he slipped around the corner of a building and stood there while a brigade of armed men went rushing by, their guns held at the ready, and some already firing out into the cloud of dust in front of them. Screams rung out left and right, but he’d realized long before now that there was no peace for anyone, not even the innocents. Lying ten or twelve feet from him in the road were the trampled upon corpses of children. No one was spared when rebellions like the one today broke out. Waiting for the shouts of soldiers to die down, he turned, glancing left and right before rushing across the street. He needed to figure out a better way to lug around his equipment, but leaving his film anywhere but on his person was a bad idea. His job was a bad idea.

Camera in hand, he furrowed his brow and stared down at the object, tinkering with it to turn off the flash. The button was jammed. He groaned, knowing that he couldn’t stop snapping shots, not while in the thick of a massacre. Caution was something he would have to use, especially since he was already treading hot water. He’d been burned more than once by the government, and the scars on his back and shoulders were proof enough of that. Moistening his lips as his green-blue eyes darted back and forth, head turning every now and again to widen his awareness of his surroundings, he could taste the dirt on his lips—the blood that mingled with it. It was a bitter flavor, potent, and one that turned sour and remained thick in the air to be breathed in as fire consumed the city. Spitting it out didn’t help.

Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fingers around his camera, holding tight to it as he shoved himself to his feet and away from the wall, venturing toward the back of the alleyway he’d run down. There was an opening at the back, the wall blown out by a bomb or grenade. Stepping over bricks and wires, he peered out into a dimly lit street, fogged over by dust that hadn’t been carried off by the wind. He was quiet, careful not to make any noise, and kept his head low. Getting shot was the last objective on his agenda for the day as well as the rest of his life, for the better of the good, long, and happy life he wanted to live.

Heart pounding, he slowed to a halt as he rounded a corner, his stare skimming over the ground, mindful of what he was stepping on. When he lifted his head, he spotted a silhouetted figure through a cloud of floating dirt. The look of the individual’s physique, as he was able to make out, was female. There was a solemnity about her, a certain solace. Very quietly, he loaded a fresh role of film into his camera, holding his breath. He lifted it to his face, eyes flitting erratically about behind the lens, and trying to be sure he captured the scene perfectly. Flawless photos were best. Perfect was better. A bright flash cut through the particles drifting about, followed by a second, a third, but his camera was down by them. Swearing, his green-blue gaze shot to the woman.

 

[DrgnLadyLuna]

She lumbered along the broken street, appearing to be no more than a mangy, malnourished dog to the line of soldiers that rushed past her from behind the remains of a large building. The mission had gone well so far—almost too well. Only once had she nearly been killed by debris falling from an abandoned building. A grenade had landed nearby earlier, but Angel had heard it whizzing through the air and had been able to take flight and put enough distance between herself and the hand grenade before it exploded. Now, her target's scent was strong in her canine nose. He was already badly injured and moving slowly through the city. This man was a high ranking general from their side. Somehow, he had caught wind of the government's control over a secret sect of shape shifters. These shifters were used to take out anyone who opposed the government. In the wrong hands, this knowledge could cost them the entire war.

Angle paused, the man's scent flooding her nose, stronger than ever before. He must be hiding amongst the rubble. Her lungs filled with air before her body began to contort, feathers replacing fur. Once satisfied that she looked like nothing more than a common sparrow, the shifter took flight. Sharp eyes scanned the ground below, watching another platoon of soldiers scatter, the area engulfed seconds later in an explosion. They would not have made it away in time. She angled away from the site of the explosion, sharp eyes picking out a large man limping his way through the rubble. Angel dove swiftly towards the ground, pulling up and landing on the corner of a steel beam jutting out from a pile of debris. She hopped down, body contorting once more, taking the shape of a fully grown woman. Her hair was pitch black and hung down just past her shoulders, streaked with multiple shades of blue, giving it a nearly metallic look. Swirling gray eyes watched the man as he continued onward, unaware of her presence. Angel followed, her pace quick, footsteps inaudible to the man she pursued.

“No, not-” The man spun around, suddenly aware of the female stalking him. His words were cut off as the female pulled a short bladed sword from the sheath carefully hidden beneath her cloak. The distance was quickly closed, the general trying desperately to limp away, a large gash running along his leg. He knew he stood no chance against the female, even though she chose to wield a sword rather than a gun as most soldiers did. The general reached desperately for his revolver, but was too slow. She lunged forward, blade piercing his throat as her hood fell back. Angel stepped away, pulling the blade from his flesh as blood splattered her face and hands. One more mission complete, she though as she looked at her hands, the general's body falling to the ground. Before her thoughts could continue, there was a bright flash. Her head snapped in the direction of the light as two more went off, stormy eyes locking on to the photographer. She raced forward quickly, not giving him a chance to move from his spot.

“You IDIOT! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE JUST DONE?!” Angel grabbed the front of the stranger's shirt, quickly forcing him backwards until he was pinned against a wall. The camera was snatched from his hands and flung several feet away, the crunching sound it made as it hit concrete satisfying to the enraged female. How dare this fool take photos of her! Her body trembled with rage, but it was fear that dominated her eyes. His stupidity could end up with the both of them being shot for treason. The pictures could be burned easily enough, but him? What was she supposed to do about him now? He had seen her face. If he went to any of the authorities to report her slaughter of one of their generals, Angel would be killed immediately under the guise of treason, even though they had given her the mission to take him down. She should kill the photographer. It was the only way. Angel took a step back, moving to retrieve the dagger hidden beneath her cloak. Her eyes met his, and the assassin found herself unable to draw the dagger and kill the man. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were a remarkable green-blue, reminding her oddly of...Angel shook her head, clearing the thought from her mind. No. There was no way she could kill this man. She could not even draw the dagger from its sheath. Not when he had those eyes. He would have to come with her.

“You will follow me now. Should you even consider running off, I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?” Angel gave him a low growl as she gathered up the photographs he had taken and tossed them into a nearby fire, not budging an inch until sure they had been completely incinerated.

 

[Raivh]

The woman’s voice, greatly irritated and shrill, reached his ears on a piercing note, and he snapped his head in her direction. His eyes met hers the very instant she shoved him back against a wall. She was strong for a woman, and he struggled for a moment before deciding this. The only thought that raced through his mind was that she would kill him. That look in her eyes, he was positive it was intent to drive that blade she’d just used to slaughter a soldier through his heart. Heavy breaths filled his lungs as his glance followed her every move, plummeting to her hand the moment she took a step back. Licking his lips, he lifted his stare to hers, a scowl on his face, the fact that she’d busted his camera just registering. Something about her expression changed, went soft, and then she moved away and began collecting his belongings.

“Hey!” he shouted, ignoring her command and rushing toward her. It was too late. The film was ruined, as were the rest of the photos he’d taken and developed. Gritting his teeth to the point the muscles in his jaw strained and ached, he leered at her. This woman was the premier bitch on his list of most hated females.

“What’s it matter now?” He glared after her, staring at her back, willing her to feel the hatred he had for her. She’d just destroyed his livelihood, had taken away his chance of getting out of this damned, war-torn land. “You destroyed everything.” Despite his remarks, he pursued, following her back to a rather rundown building. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought, wondering if this was where she lived. This subconscious questioning didn’t last long before a large man appeared, adorned in military gear from head to toe, and heavily muscled. His stare was intimidating.

“Who is this, Angel?” the man interrogated, grabbing her captor by the front of his shirt and hauling him into the air.

“My name is Brandon.” Glowering down into the massive soldier’s blue, suspicious eyes, Brandon set his jaw. It wasn’t his every day intention to get captured by discrete individuals and taken away to some secret base. “Who are you?”

Dropping Brandon, the man took a step back. “Not someone you want to meet out there.” The huge fellow jerked a hand in the direction of an explosion and the sound of screaming. He had scars all over his face and one long, large scar that ran down his powerful neck. “Take him inside, and get something to eat.” With a curt nod and a grunt, he strode off and disappeared into a thick veil of smoke.

 

[DrgnLadyLuna]

“What matters is that you are still very much alive. That is enough to have us both shot. So if you like being alive, I suggest you shut your mouth and keep up.” Angel snapped as they approached the building. Before she could speak, Errin had grabbed hold of the photographer and hauled him easily into the air. She sighed impatiently. It had already been a long day, and was only becoming longer as time passed. The shifter wanted noting more than to slip into a hot bath and be rid of the blood and grime that coated her skin. She wanted to be rid of the photographer as well, but that seemed to be more difficult than it ought to be. Angel watched as Errin set the man back down, taking a deep breath.

“No one else is to know he's here, Errin. He's leaving with me first thing in the morning. I have three more targets before I can report in.” Angel led Brandon inside, moving swiftly up a flight of stairs. They moved down a short hallway. Each wooden door they passed had a different symbol etched into it, letting the others know which room belonged to whom. Angel paused outside one door, fingers gently tracing the wolf and bird etched into the door. It looked as if the two were chasing one another, their bodies forming a circle. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, quickly ushering him inside. The walls were bare, a large bed with dark sheets and a large comforter was set in one corner. A small wooden chest was on the floor near the foot of the bed. Angel pulled her cloak off, dropping it beside the chest before turning to him.

“Relax for a moment. I need to clean up before we go down and get something to eat. DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING.” She emphasized the last words before disappearing through a second door. It was pushed closed behind her. He would hear the sound of running water. Angel slid her clothes off and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime. Why was it impossible for her to kill Brandon? Killing had never been a difficult thing for her to do before. It was necessary for the shifter to continue living. Once the war was over, she would be able to disappear into the countryside and spend the rest of her days surrounded by trees. This man needed to die. He had seen her face, and now he knew her name...but those eyes. They were the same green-blue as...Angel bit her lip hard, forcing the thoughts to the back of her mind as she finished cleaning up before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower. She pulled on a clean pair of clothes from the small cabinet in the bathroom before stepping back into the bedroom. Angel had chosen a plain black blouse and faded jeans. Metallic looking hair was nearly black when wet. Grey eyes looked towards Brandon, watching him curiously.

“Are you hungry?”