I refuse to stop posting in this now =)
"There. That's the last vulture Ion upgrade" yelled Michael over the mechanical hum of the other nearby machinery.
The past two weeks had been hard on him, and though he tried not to show it, Michael was deeply emotionally unbalanced. His work as of late on the outpost's vehicles hadn't been up to his usual standard. Loose screws would cause wheels to come off, or spider mines would detonate before burrowing. He had been the cause of the death of 18 Marines from such incidents.
However Michael had been determined in continuing his job. He believed every vehicle he built would bring the death of his brother's assassin he craved so dearly. A special mechanical group had been assembled to inspect his work, however, as he refused to take a day off.
"I gotta take a piss or my bladder's going to explode" he said to one of the mechanical team workers as he headed for the nearby forest.
Large white puffy clouds dotted the deep blue canvas sky, and a cool breeze sent a slight chill over his face. Michael spent so much time in deep thought, he would often awaken from it not knowing where he was. Snapping to, he realized he had wandered for over a mile into the forest, daydreaming. As he headed back he heard the snap of a branch.
"Probably just an animal" he said shrugging off the sudden twang of fear accompanied with the broken branch. Then he heard the flapping of a cape as the wind around him picked up. Turning around, he thought he saw what looked like tattered Protoss robes flutter behind a tree and vanish. Michael immediately broke into a sprint headed for the camp. Another branch snapped, a lot bigger this time. Michael was breathing so hard he began to get pains in his chest. The sharp piercing feeling as he breathed in, and worse when he exhaled. "It's not raining" he thought as he felt moisture pouring down on his hands, looking down he gasped.
A dagger of a design he had never seen before lay buried in his now bloodsoaked chest. The hilt was of Onyx black gems with a golden silk rope going up the spiral of the design. The blade, which seemed to glow dim blue-grey absorbed most of the blood it touched, as if a dry sponge. As his body began to feel heavier and his chest began to quiver, he collapsed. His head was pounding with the constant *thump* of his pulse, and he lay in a own pool of his own vomit for a moment before he came to grips with what was actually happening.
"Brother, I have failed you" he gasped as a red and black blade of energy severed his head from his neck.
Minutes later the sweet song of birds could be heard above the gentle hum of the crickets as the sun began to set, casting a bright magenta streak across the magnificent sky. Squirrels continued to gather food for the upcoming winter, and a honey-bee became stuck to a red liquid on the rustled leaves, once the blood of a man never to be seen again, now mistaken as a small blotch of wildberry juice.