Achilicles Vs TheDrifter : Blood Upon The Gods

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Location : A large shopping mall in New York, Bad Neighborhood

Time : Dawn.

~~~~

It was dawn, the dew had laid it's claim upon the emerald grass once more and the sun had just reached over the hill-tops, stretching across the sky. Another day, Another opportunity for humans to piss their lives away in a commercially funded perverse rat-race.

Sex and Murder foamed up and ravaged through the streets, affecting every  last building in the damned city, especially this mall. Countless lives lost in gang murder, sprees of rape and bullets flew round this shopping area for all different reasons. Be they the color of their skin or the color Red or the color Blue.

But today, Petty gang violence would not what would break the news. Neigh today, All hell would break loose as a Shadow Manipulator and a God would clash, certainly they would leave both themselves and the shopping mall in smoking ruins.

The invitation was sent from Greece from the the God and Hero, Achilicles to France, To the Defense Administrator and Former student of Final Arrow, himself....TheDrifter.

They had agreed to meet on neutral playing ground, America. Two men entered, One man left, Brutality like never seen before.


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Achilicles

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#2  Edited By Achilicles

"Yaaaaaaa!!!!"

Achilicles crashed through another worthless building, the front door with a sign slapped on it saying "due for deconstruction, March 16, 2007." His long strides shook the ground and broke the concrete underneath him, literally making a path across the city to where he was going. He swam the distance between Greece and Boston Harbor in almost the same time it took for the letter to reach The Drifter in France; even less to run the hundreds of blocks deep into the heart of the agreed-to "neutral" territory.

He was almost halfway out of breath, chugging the remaining blocks like a train low on steam. However, this was his way of life. He would regain the stamina as soon as he had lost it. Turning a corner, he noticed that people were scarcely around. They were instead hiding behind windows and doors, oblivious to the outside world beyond what they could see. He smiled and laughed as he threw his arms up, heard a satisfying pop, and proceeded to jog backwards. It was just like running the hundreds of miles every day back in Greece, delivering heavy loads and moving houses for people who wanted to be closer to their farms or nearer to the cities. It was a modest lifestyle he had adapted to. But, his charisma was lost to the public around him in this place. They shunned him as a foreigner and stranger.

He hardly cared. His philosophy, "I offer one of three things: a helping hand, laughter, or a fist; you choose!" hung in his mind along with the triumphant song in his head. Achilicles turned around again and began to slow down; the target area was in sight, with a black car silently parked in the lot amid the trashed and useless ones. A few people were walking around with poorly-manufactured boxes filled with some kind of food or purchase. It was miserable. Achilicles stopped and rested against a nearby wall before raising his voice, saying:

"Drifter!!!! Where art thou?!!?!?!"