The old man spoke in a quick staccato, his voice booming across the cavernous red room as the cameras increased their intensity. But suddenly, it happened.
A rumble of fear surged through the crowd. Bad news. Assassination, all costs, Japanese farmers, kill, get out, run, protect. The panic was rising, and a sense of imminence was in the air. Imminence, but of what? He did not know, he did not want to know. The old man kept speaking throughout the commotion, louder and louder, almost shouting above the noise. And the cameras, kept flashing, the boom mikes, almost frantic in their trashing above the heads of the people.
Kill, Assassination, now, guards, doom. The whispers were frantic cries now, they had to leave, He knew he had to leave. Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run
He burst out through the large wooden doors as the assassins among the throng of people outside the room burst into action. They all held a small curved Japanese dagger. A wakisashi, they pointed their blades at various guards, and with a push of a button, unexpectedly shot their weapons out of their scabbards with a hiss of compressed air , the shards of metal burying themselves in human flesh.
This was a war zone, he thought, what on earth.... panic struck him and then he froze in the spot as a one of the assassins blazed past him, cold determination on his face, it was his...classmate? There was no way he would.. he would be killed by the UN guards. Just then a Japanese UN guard jumped into his friends way. No, he wanted to shout, but he didn't. Either that or he did, but no one heard him, over the chaos and shrieking. He didn't know.
The Japanese guard struck, flowing like blinding water. Slash. Parry. Slash. Block.
Slash.
His heart stopped as the short blade found its way past the empty scabbard that his friend had held out in defense, effortlessly driving its way through his neck. It was a perfect cut, aligned to his shoulders, and he could only watch as the head separated from the shoulders, sailing through the air. He would have vomited as the head landed less than a metre to his left, if not for the fact that his eyes were still riveted on his friend's killer. He expected to be next, but realized belatedly that the guard would not harm him. His relief lasted for a second till he saw a foreign fear enter the eyes of the Japanese warrior. The white-robed samurai immediately moving to his side, as if to protect him as the battle raged around them. Looming over him, a shining picture of death.
A dark shape flashed past, and the clash of steel rang out as he sought out his guardian's assailant with his eyes. Another flash and a dark red stripe appeared on the guard's arms. Another flash and it was gone. The arm. It was gone.
He got up and spun around as the guard dropped lifelessly to the floor with the next flash. The assassin stood before him swathed in black robes, wakisashi raised, and attacked. This was it, but couldn't move, he would have cried if there was time. The dagger flashed in towards his neck. Lord Jesus, save-
He woke up. His room. Nothing. He thanked God he was alive and stared out into the night, a pale bead of sweat working its way down the side of his head.
