Information
.Marcell. has a minion!
Máté the Invisible Man
Máté the Invisible Man
.Marcell.
Legacy Name: .Marcell.
The
Reborn WyllopOwner:
KassieeAge: 13 years, 6 months, 1 week
Born: October 29th, 2010
Adopted: 13 years, 6 months, 1 week ago
Adopted: October 29th, 2010
Statistics
- Level: 19
- Strength: 23
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 11
- HP: 11/11
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
It always worth to stay calm.
The time is the key for everything.
The last moment before shooting, when I feel the enemy's movement, I know where will he shoot from, I hear he's breathing quickly. I know that he is afraid more from the punishment he would get, if he misses the target, than the failing itsef. Fear has lots of natures, and I can smell all their different scents.
I take a look at the person I have to protect, I see him smiling, as he has no clue that he is about to die in seconds. In a split second, to be honest, it depends if this evening will be a catastrophe, or itt will remain like all the others.
Life or death. There are no other choice.
I feel I have to move now, but suddenly... if I would not now how. I'm a only a lost child, who is in dread to loose him, whom he admires, whom he guards since years. Then I start to move, as fast as a snake, when I raise my gun, and I only take a small movement with my right hand at the last second, like an impulse, or somebody else - who is always with me, whom I call my "better self" - would move me to the correct direction. If it would say: "C'mon, bro, hey, bro, you really could do better..."
It's hard to hear the sound which is coming from my weapon, and I can sense the gunpowder's bittersweet smell, as it hides the assassin's stinky sweltering... But I don't need my nose to know: the small red hole on his forehead makes sure, that he would never ever be able to attack my protégée.
"What was that, Marcell?"
"Nothing at all, Herr. Only a nameless ba.stard."
Story byCygnea
Translation byIdaho
The time is the key for everything.
The last moment before shooting, when I feel the enemy's movement, I know where will he shoot from, I hear he's breathing quickly. I know that he is afraid more from the punishment he would get, if he misses the target, than the failing itsef. Fear has lots of natures, and I can smell all their different scents.
I take a look at the person I have to protect, I see him smiling, as he has no clue that he is about to die in seconds. In a split second, to be honest, it depends if this evening will be a catastrophe, or itt will remain like all the others.
Life or death. There are no other choice.
I feel I have to move now, but suddenly... if I would not now how. I'm a only a lost child, who is in dread to loose him, whom he admires, whom he guards since years. Then I start to move, as fast as a snake, when I raise my gun, and I only take a small movement with my right hand at the last second, like an impulse, or somebody else - who is always with me, whom I call my "better self" - would move me to the correct direction. If it would say: "C'mon, bro, hey, bro, you really could do better..."
It's hard to hear the sound which is coming from my weapon, and I can sense the gunpowder's bittersweet smell, as it hides the assassin's stinky sweltering... But I don't need my nose to know: the small red hole on his forehead makes sure, that he would never ever be able to attack my protégée.
"What was that, Marcell?"
"Nothing at all, Herr. Only a nameless ba.stard."
Story by
CygneaTranslation by
IdahoPet Treasure
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