ametueraspirant

Every once in a while, a hero comes along destined slay evil and restore peace to the world. He wields a sword and shield who's might is unmatched throughout the lands, his heart is full of courage enough for a hundred people, his story would be written down and remembered for centuries to come. But, unfortunately, this is not his story. This is the story of a character from the other side, one of the survivors of the hero's latest rampage, who was left alive, while his friends, family and almost acquaintances were slaughtered. His name is minion number 98. Number 98, as he was endearingly called, suffered from a streak of incredibly poor fo

"Good evening ma'am," Randy said, handing his next customer a slip of paper, "look forward to doing business again real soon." As he walked away, towards the next prospective house, Randy checked the list again; His next target would be a Samuel Fisher. Sounded like a nice enough name. As he walked up to the porch, Randy's gaze swept the front porch for items and knick-knacks to identify the houses owner by. One torn shoe, water and food dishes, he owns dogs. patches in three different places on the porch, probably not enough money to spend on professional repairs, or likes fixing things. Porch swing with a novel on it, reads in spare time.

I was in a stadium; very large, and very empty. Empty, that is, except for one person. He was a bounty hunter, and I was his bounty. He growled and wiped sweat from his face. "You are coming back with me!" He shouted. "On your life!" I yelled back. He laughed at that, "On my life? We'll see about that" And he pounced. I shook my head a bit, as if doing that would clear the memories. I touched the scars on my face, nine scars, nine times escaping from prison. This would be my tenth, execution no doubt this time. I stood up abruptly, no; they weren't going to catch me again, I was going to board the ship and go back home. I was going to fo