|X10 (standard:adventure, 7245 words)|
|Author: DreamWeaver||Added: Jul 30 2003||Views/Reads: 1737/1067||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Nobody chose the lifestyle of an outlaw, the lifestyle chose them. Quite frankly, nobody ever grew to enjoy the lifestyle as they generally didnít live long enough. Gáol and Deben however were the exception.|
X-10 Prologue The two figures glided down the street, idly chatting as they went. To look at, they were very different. One was a tall slim figure with curly brown hair worn short, and long sideburns that were occasionally allowed to creep down his face and meet under his chin. Glasses sometimes shrouded the friendly warm eyes the face possessed, but as of late, they were shielded by the frown created by his course eyebrows. His clothes suggested he was the kind of man not to be annoyed. He wore black denim trousers, a black shirt and a black denim jacket that neatly hid the shoulder holster hidden within. The other was slightly smaller, and slightly better built. He too had short brown hair, but it was less curly than his companions. His dark eyes were piercing, and were presently shrouded behind thin sunglasses. He wore black combat trousers with plenty of pockets. They were fastened at the top and joined to a thick belt that had small leather pouches around its length. A black t-shirt covered his torso and partly covered the band that was worn around his neck. Atop all this was a long black coat that flowed behind him as he walked casually down the street, held back only by the rifle that rested comfortably over one shoulder and across his back. The barrel and scope glinted in the moonlight as the two walked down the street, towards a small bar at the end. G ol was suddenly aware of footsteps behind him, and spun to observe the figure of a middle aged man standing in the middle of the street, legs shoulder width apart, silver badge glinting in the moonlight. He stood, not moving, his weapon drawn and aimed at G ol's head, finger on the trigger. Deben, suddenly curious why the conversation and his companion had stopped turned also to observe the character. "What is your business here?" "What business is it of yours to ask, you god forsaken son of a bitch" was the harsh, but frank response G ol gave. He was not a man to mince his words, and felt it his duty to speak his mind, voice his opinions, whatever the situation may be. It had landed him in trouble in the past, and right now, was looking like doing so again. To his credit, he had the temper and attitude to back it up, and few people lived long enough to speak ill of him. "You are out after curfew. If you do not present identification and state your business, you will be detained" was the response by the officer. "Here officer, I'll think you will find them in order" exclaimed Deben as he handed a bunch of papers to the officer. He stepped backwards and glanced across at G ol as he did so, the faint traces of a smile drawing across his face. He could tell that the patience of his friend was wearing thin, and the smile soon faded. He flicked his eyes downwards to see G ol's hand slip inside his jacket and grasp the moulded grip of his Eagle. The officer shuffled through the papers until he came to a particular page and froze. The colour drained from his face and his heart rate quickened as he slowly raised his head. "I... I... I'm s sorry sir. I... I didn't realise you were..." "Not to worry officer, that will be all," grinned Deben as he retrieved the papers from the shaking officers hands. With that, the officer retreated and thanked his blessings that he had gotten off lightly. Had he known the truth, he would have been in deeper trouble than he assumed he was. G ol and Deben watched as he made his hasty retreat down the street and round the corner at the bottom. "What the fuck was all that about?" questioned G ol in a slightly apprehensive tone as he turned to face his friend. "Told you they would come in handy one day" smiled Deben. Deben was the complete opposite of G ol in every way. He didn't posses G ol's fiery temper and carefree attitude. He was a thinker, a planner. Every move he made was carefully planned and every outcome mapped out in his brain. He often had to stop his friend landing himself in hot water, but this was made up for by the number of times G ol's sheers balls had saved his ass in the past. "You're one crafty son of a bitch, my friend," smiled G ol as he released the grip on his Eagle and placed a hand on Deben's shoulder, "One crafty son of a bitch!" The pair's laughter echoed into the night air as the continued walking down the street and entered the small bar at the end. Chapter One Click here to read the rest of this story (528 more lines)
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