The Wolf's Bleyd

Chapter 7

I quickly dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a black short sleeved t-shirt and a pair of black New Rock boots that my mom bought in a second-hand shop before I was born. I let the metal into my skin and eyes, put silver streaks in my hair and made a few more knives to fight with. I stuck two of them in the top of each of my boots, four more in the waistband, and two in the pockets of my shorts. Two shorter, curved daggers went into wristbands that I always wore to complete my set.

I jumped out the top window of my home, landed on an ajacent rooftop, and took off running nearly faster than the eye could see.

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I made my way across the city to the Waterfront. In stereotypical "Bad Guy" fashion, this gang that took my parents was in one of the run down warehouses along the dock, cheap, easy to get to, low security, a thieve's haven if you think about it.

I stuck to the shadows coming up to the entrance of the warehouse. Stopping for a moment to listen, I heard two guards inside. They were conversing in low tones about some silly horse race that they were betting money on. Apparently, they was big money riding on it.

I looked around the front of the building to see if I could find a way in. I saw an open window about a foot over the door. It was one of those little ones that a normal person could never fit into, but it was perfect for my intentions.

Over my training, I learned that I absorbed light through my metal and the metal converted the light into energy. That was why I didn't need to sleep.

I jumped towards the wall, making the metal in my skin just pliable enough that it could sucker into the grooves in the wall to keep me stuck there. I looked like Spider-Man the way I was stuck to the wall. I "wall-crawled" my way over the little window above the front door of the warehouse. I looked in the window and saw four light bulbs in the front room.

It was sparsely furnished, just a table with two chairs underneath the light closest to the front door where the two "guards" were playing poker. There were two doors on either side of the room. I assumed one led to the parking garage that all the vehicles the gang used were housed in, and the other concealed a staircase that led to the upper levels of the warehouse.

They were focused on the game and so wouldn't see what I was about to do.

I laid my fingertips on the lip of the window ledge, sending out a line of metal thinner than a hair from each fingertip. They made for each light bulb. Touching each bulb where it joined its cradle in the ceiling, I blew the bulbs and siphoned off electricity from each outlet, storing the energy for when I needed it.

My vision adjusted to the light change immediately, but the two gangsters weren't so lucky.

They jumped up immediately, asking each other "what happened to the light?" I slipped through the  window, landed soundlessly on my feet beside the two men and karate chopped the two of them at the side of the neck where it meets the shoulder. They slumped to the ground, unconscious.

I jumped up to the ceiling, sticking to it by my fingertips.

I took out a knife from my boot, and, sticking to the ceiling by one hand, stabbed the heels of my boots, one by one. I pierced my actual heels, but the wounds sealed over straight away. I slipped metal through the slits my dagger made and stood on the ceiling, looking down at the chaos below me.

Other gangsters ran into the room from the staircase and the garage, drawn by the sound of the two watchmen falling to the ground. I knew I couldn't take all of them on at once without alerting the head of the gang to my presence and risking his getaway, so I slid along the ceiling to the staircase, dropped to the ground and ran up the stairs, making as little noise as possible.

When I reached the next landing, I jumped to the ceiling again, shorted out the lights along the corridor, absorded more electricity and knocking out more watchmen that were on their rounds.

I repeated this process through each of the corridors I passed through, looking all the while for a staircase. I knew from movies that the leaders of gangs stayed at the top of a warehouse.

After around an hour of running around the warehouse, shorting out lights and knocking out gangsters, I reached the leader's office.

I didn't bother shorting out the lights on this corridor, instead I just walked on the ground towards the door.

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HEY PEOPLES!!!!

First off, thanks to anyone who reads this, I really appreciate it :D

Okay, soppy moment over!

Second of all, I would like you to comment on my story. Whether it's good or bad, I don't mind. I just want oppinions on my story.

Thirdly, in your comments, I would like what you think the city in my story and the gang that caused Elva's car crash should be called. Whoever comes up with the best suggestions will get a dedication in my next chapter and a fan, I promise :)

Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

ehMJeyy