Project Gamma

Prologue

Kursura snapped awake. Beads of sweat rolled gently down his face. Kursura sat up, getting out of his soft bed. A flash of silver emerged from the shadows. Quickly, the boy ducked, the arrow flew past his head, embedding itself in the pillow where my head was resting moments ago. Kursura's heart stopped as he looked out the window. A silhouette in the moonlight, a subtle glint of scope belonging to no one else but a sniper. 

He dived to the floor, his body hitting the hardwood planks with a solid thud, he crawled across the floor. He sat up, his back against the wall next to the window. Kursura had remembered the sniper's position, he leaned towards his nightstand, trying to reach for his phone, to no avail.

The window shattered as another arrow passed through, cutting his arm open. Blood began to trickle down his arm.. He cried out in pain, was a stupid idea. He recalled his father keeping a rifle for hunting under his bed. Kursura desperately dove under the bed for cover, taking hold of his father's rifle, he opened the cartridge. His blood ran cold as he realized there were no rounds left in the magazine. He crawled out from under the bed, peeking his head up and quickly aiming in to where the assassin stood, he was gone. He lowered the gun, listening for clues as to where the sniper could have went. It was silent. The only sound Kursura heard was his heart beating in his ears. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, he began to shake, overwhelmed by the situation. He was a boy, just turning 14, against what seemed like a professional marksman. 

He crouched down, trying to keep a low profile as he went for the door, he had slipped out of his room and into the hallway. His footsteps were close to silent, soft thuds across the floor. The footsteps making echoes in the hall. 

He stopped, his heart skipped a beat as he realized the second footstep for each one he took were not echoes but rather the steps of the assassin. As he felt the tip of a curved blade enter the center of his back, his vision faltered. A hot, unbearable burning sensation flowed through his body, then nothing. He felt warm liquid, trickle down his back as the blade was pulled out, Kursura fell to the floor, a dark figure stepping over him. The figure looked back, kneeling down on one knee, a red dot sight was all Kursura could conceive of any kind of distinguishable feature in his state.

"Sweet dreams." The assailant laughed mockingly, getting back up and proceeding to walk down the hall towards his father's room.