• Edge Vanguard cursed at the wind, in a bitter and cold language. He lay on top of Big Ben. His prey would soon arrive. And then, everything would feel much better.
    Edge Vanguard was the hero of our previous story-he was the truth and justice in a land of hate and unfeeling. After the death of his best friends, wife and his children, he had been driven to a land of no regrets-he had attempted at his own life, only to fail once he was revived by his friend.
    He know lay on the top of Big Ben, looking for Harold Furichèr, the leader of H-tech, the largest dealer in military equipment...next to the Pentagon. However, as a much less known hobby, he sold heroin to men and women in third-world countries. Edge would not have cared much, except that he was one of the 12 men to help in the massacre of his family.
    "The land won't regret losing one of their 'Best' men." Edge said. He donned the cape of old-the cape of the ancient Northern Witches. He became The Stalker.
    His blade lay at his side-until he had killed all of his men, The Stalker refused to use modern warfare. With goggles, he spot his prey...and leapt for the river. As The Stalker hit the water, the bridge exploded. The Stalker felt slight remorse for those who had died with the destruction of his foe, but he would forget-not everything always goes according to plan. Harold, from the ruins of the bridge, climbed back up onto the sidewalk. The Stalker was amazed-he realised this was no normal man. The Stalker chuckled quietly-this would be much more fun. He climbed out of the river and ran fast, before the police could arrive and halt him. The Stalker saw one up ahead. His sword drawn, a quick swing lopped the man's head off like a piece of wood. but The Stalker kept on running. He arrived at a small shack, and entered. The place was mostly barren, with little more than a bed and a computer, he quickly looked up Harold's address. After a quick confrontation with a security system, he discovered Harold's home.
    "Bingo." The Stalker, now dry, walked out of the shack. A press of a button, and the whole place erupted in flames. His business there was complete-he would find another shack to use later on. He hid back on top of Big Ben-day was beginning once again, and he could not risk being seen during the day. 9 hours later....
    The Stalker lay on Big Ben, with no sleep once again-his sleep had been held still by nightmares and dream demons...Night was falling. He began the descent down Big Ben and ran to his revenge...
    This did not take long. Infiltrating the house, killing the guards, and breaching the final defense was all easy. He hid in the rafters of the room, for Harold was sitting in a chair. enjoying a nice book. The Stalker silently fell to the floor, and was about to stab through the soft leather when...
    "Really? We can't solve this like civilized men? Well, let me at least stand up." Harold spoke. The Stalker once again had underestimated this man, and humbly obliged.
    "Nice to make your acquaintance. I am Harold, as you already know." Harold grinned. He removed his shirt, to reveal metal armor.
    "You almost got me yesterday...now, shall we dance?" Harold removed a rapier-a blade that had been known to cut right through armor like a hot knife straight through butter. The Stalker frowned-one stab, and he could be dead. Harold stabbed, and missed.
    "Je beux meurte tu." The Stalker said as he attempted a stab.
    "Ah, now the French want my head? What is your name?" Harold responded as he struck back.
    "Je m'appelle Le Traquerer." The Stalker responded. He stabbed Harold in the chest. His blade bounced off Harold's armor. Harold smirked, and stabbed The Stalker in the stomach. The Stalker bent over-his whole body had been penetrated.
    "See, it isn't skill that wins, boy. Its about whose gun is bigger. Your rusty blade would work if it was NOT rusty. Now, you can wither and die." Harold said, and began to walk away. But, he suddenly felt a pain in his arm.
    "I only need this rusty blade to kill a b*****d like you." The Stalker said as he ripped up-Harold's arm hit the ceiling before it fell. The Stalker laughed in a fashion extremely maniacal. Harold struggled to reach his arm.
    "You want to hear a story, Harry old boy?" The Stalker said slowly, "It's about a kid named Edge. See, you killed everyone he loved. Now, he finally got his revenge."
    Harold looked up.
    "Edge?But...you...uhh..." Harold said as he collapsed in a pool of his blood.
    "I won't be foolish and let you live. may you fell 100th of the pain that I fell every day." The Stalker said as he smashed Harold's face into the floor-a bloody remained. The Stalker planted an explosive on the ground.
    "Nighty-night, Harry boy!" The Stalker said as he jumped from the window in a mass of beautiful explosives. He smirked-his first revenge was complete. The first of many.
    ------)>Check for more things later...if I get around too it(Sry, lot'ta school work right now< wink ------