𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩? ❝ 𝘵𝘧𝘱 𝘹 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘢!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ❞ | REWRITING

preview

This is  a short preview of the new rewritten chapter 😭. And I'm posting it on a new book, but I'm not going to delete this book. I'm not much of a good writer so bear with me 

CHAPTER ONE

GENOS ventures through the labyrinth of the sewer, a caved tunnel of pertinence as his submerged boots is dragged along the marsh brown, frothing water. Repressed at the back of his mind, the questions lays there, and yet despite all the curious prodding, he wasn't bothered enough to question why the walls are coated in a thin sheen of slimy substance in the first place — trust me, he'd rather not. All those time spent fighting on the surface had prompted him it was better not to question anything at all.

But that's the thing — questioning has always been his greatest virtue, a habit imbued in his circuits, his systems , his lifeline, that every morning he wakes up to open his eyes, questioning seems to be the first of order. However it was an unfortunate subject to his master's chagrin and annoyance. If it weren't for this mission at any point, he'd very much rather indulge himself watching a movie with her. But the prospect of simple happiness was a mere dream as God had other plans. And said plan had him in a sewer (if he was anymore human he'd retch), staring at an object deemed with interest.

Despite the urge to stay unbothered, he couldn't help but to examine the random clumps of carmine lichen that had parasitically clung itself to the wall. There were many of those across and Its spongy texture was an overlap of different shades of red, with almost life like veins that branched off to thinner once's that pulsated and throbbed, giving it an uncanny flesh like look.

He ripped his gaze from the unusual patch of moss and, with his flashlight, continued to navigate through the dark abyss, kicking off trash and discarded bottles that crowded at his feet — and occasionally, occasionally, a most affectionate encounter of borderline virtually incinerating a sewer rat. Almost, at least. Something to out on his mind instead of that thing. The light falls upon the next tread and the sudden development causes him to halt. Briefly, his eyes skim over the two respective tunnels that emerged before him: a three way junction. His eyes flit down to the scanner. On the screen, two flickering dot appears to be moving at a much slower pace.

A hundred meters at most.

.With that, he turns to the left and trudges along for several more minutes until the tunnel meets a dead end. Though, that wasn't all. He shoves the scanner into his pocket and a gloved hand curls around the pole, the end of the flashlight now clamped between his teeth as he heaved himself up the metal ladder stuck to the wall.It creaks and jostled slightly under his weight.

The gentle whirr of his blaster thrums amongst the silence. He had put it on hold lest there was a 'problem' needed dealing with. if there was any sort of distaste towards his current predicament he doesn't show it. A trademark glare was instead opted over the favor of his verbal memorandum. A result of the culminating events — which, to be fair, is usually the only thing he articulates. He pauses for a moment and with a hand outstretched, he nudges the lid and pushes it off the manhole cover, careful not to make a sound.

Though, it came from a different source.

Heaving himself onto the asphalt concrete, he swiftly crouches onto his knees, hunched over in essence of keeping a low profile. The dots on his scanners are now but far, but also not too close. He scans the area, tilting his head in curiosity. The contrast between the dim glow of the yellow lights and the military green walls conjured his vision into a dull chartreuse luminance . And it wasn't just any warehouse, it was a military warehouse.