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The Stalker in the Shadows (standard:action, 1063 words)
Author: CravenAdded: Oct 03 2003Views/Reads: 2217/1282Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A ship in the middle of the ocean has a man on a mission. Garl Newliht is out to kill everybody onboard.
 



With little time to spare Garl Newliht threw himself over the railing.
Flipping in the air and disappearing into the darkness below. 

A good ten minutes had passed when, after searching in vain, the
officers returned to their normal patrols. They stepped cautiously over 
the rain soaked deck ready for any surprise coming from the shadows. 
Even though the search for the murderer had ended, they still had to 
keep a look out. No one really wanted to be the next victim. 

The butchering had been going on all night. Fear was slowly spreading
among the crew. People had only been able to get a quick glimpse of the 
attacker before he was gone, which made things all the worse. If they 
could not see their enemy how were they going to stop him? This was how 
Garl worked best. Like lambs to the slaughter. 

Stealth, he believed, was the greatest weapon in a one-man war. Taking
your target out slowly and not rushing things. Making them think you 
had gone and then reminding them in the most bloody way imaginable. 
Skinning your victims and watching their fellow officers recoil in 
horror and disgust. People called Garl insane, over the edge, but he 
had more control than anybody else in the whole world. 

He moved across the deck in a way, which was more like gliding than
walking. A short knife held tightly in his right hand and his left 
holding a napkin. He kept close to the walls letting them conceal him 
from the crew. Rain made it almost impossible for him to be seen. The 
falling water giving the area a misty look and the sound of the 
droplets hitting the deck drowning out his footsteps. 

Lifeboats hung from the sides. The yellow covers fluttering in the wind.
The coverings annoyed Garl, they kept distracting him, making him 
believe someone was watching him. Like huge ghosts peering onto the 
ship watching his every movement. He stared at the boats, someone could 
be hiding inside one of them. He could not have that, no one was 
allowed to survive. 

So far Garl had taken out at least two thirds of the whole crew. Taking
him hours to do so. At first murdering the crew had been easy but then 
they knew he was there and as their numbers went down it became 
increasingly harder to find his next target. They would be cowering all 
over the ship now. Of course not all of them hid from him some were 
being over-confident with themselves thinking they were invincible. 
Garl had dealt with them quickly. Now the place seemed deserted. 

With a turn of speed he was across the deck and his knife was cutting
through the ropes of the lifeboats. Within seconds the wind had caught 
hold of the cover and was whisking it away. The yellow phantom 
disappeared into the darkness leaving an empty boat behind. Without 
dwelling to long on the lack of a body Garl moved on towards the next 
boat in line. And the next, and the next, and the next... 

The last of the covers flew away like a magic carpet. He had lost track
on how long it had taken him to go through all the lifeboats on the 
ship. Overall he had only found two people, hugging each other in fear 
as Garl loomed over them. His knife moved with a blur. Slashing their 
throats before they even had a chance to scream. Instead of putting 
them on display he simply through them overboard. They weren't 
important. He was going after the big prize now, the captain. 

He leapt up the stairs two at a time. The wind grabbed at him trying to
pull him away from the ship but he fought against the cruel fingers 
grasping his legs. Nothing would stop him from achieving his goal. 

Garl continued to climb three more flights of stairs before reaching the
bridge. Opening a portal he stepped lightly into the corridor. Guessing 
the direction of the command centre from where he was, Garl walking 
stealthily, headed towards his target. A smile crept across his face. 

His mission was nearly over. He could soon rest. Knowing that everybody
on the ship was now a dead corpse, except him, the captain and whoever 
else was on the bridge. He allowed himself a short laugh. This had been 
all too easy. 

His plan was simple enough, either slash the captain's throat or
suffocate him with his chloroform soaked handkerchief and feed him to 


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