It was a cold, autumn day. Rays of sunlight filtered weakly through dense grey clouds. A chill breeze swept over and around the rigid stone structures. Tree branches filled with colourful fall leaves swayed back a forth, hues of red, yellow and orange.
A girl walked quietly along the pale sidewalk. Her blond hair whipped about by the wind, she held tightly to her trim red parka. She strolled nonchalantly, her soft blue eyes staring tiredly at the ground as it scrolled past her. She cursed having worn a skirt, it’s light green hem flustering about, showing her thin, unprotected legs to the icy gusts. Around her, orange and red leaves fluttered noiselessly to the ground.
She did not lookup, did not notice high above, on the rooftop, a silent watcher. A boy stood on the hard stone rooftop of one of the buildings. His grey eyes watched with the stealth of years of training, his brown hair thrown about furiously by the wind. His grey trench coat was wrapped around his lean frame. Underneath, a dark blue turtleneck, and faded brown khakis.
He waited until she was out of sight. A sudden movement of air caused him to turn around, and face the newcomer. A tall white-haired man stood silently facing him. The man wore a black trench coat, dark grey pants, and jet-black boots. On his left shoulder, a red insignia with two silver swords crossed, the symbol of the death squad. He smirked, his face fierce with cunning. Despite the grey sky, he wore dark, shaded sunglasses, an occasional glare glinting off the smooth surface. In one swift motion he reached into his coat with his leather-gloved hand, and pulled out a fearsome black shotgun.
With quick precision, the boy responded by unsheathing a long, narrow sword, a Japanese style katana, it’s edges used and worn. Holding the shotgun in one hand, the man pulled the trigger, sending a spray of projectiles in a stream towards the boy. Rolling in one side, the boy dodged the initial shot with seemingly impossible speed, and leaped towards the man. There was a glint of steel as the boy rushed forward, and with a single, swift motion, cut the man’s shotgun cleanly in two.
Surprised and startled, the man stepped backward, and the boy poised for another strike. Recovering, the man grinned, menacing white teeth showing. In an instant he withdrew a long, threatening sword, another katana. The man lunged at the boy; swords clattered and struck, harsh pings and clangs vibrating above the hurling wind.