Red hand

The red glow in his palm flickered whenever he made a fist. Thoughts of her invaded his mind again. He shook his head, unsure how long he’d been standing there, staring at his hand. Lost in dreams of an unattainable love.

Only inanimate objects have been the subject of his testing so far. He hadn’t wanted to try living beings. He’d killed enough already. Her smile flashed in front of his eyes, filling them with unshed tears. The longing in his chest threatened to tear him apart.

An apple had been the first victim of using the strange ability. He’d squeezed his fist once, turning the scanner on. Merely turning his palm toward the piece of fruit hadn’t done anything. But when he’d stroked it, a warmth had spread, and he’d known he had a copy of it in him. He’d slammed his flat hand down on the table. The real apple had disappeared, and a three-dimensional picture of it sat on—or in?—the table, as if part of it.

What he planned to do now was risky, but it must work. He’d played around with this enough. And who better to test it out than himself? He’ll go where his assassin skills are wanted and less frowned upon. The new environment should be enough to help him forget her.

He opened up the book. The Way Of Kings, the first one in a fantastic epic series. He’d chosen this because of the foreign world, and fore-knowledge about what was going to happen there. That should help him settle in before the unknown events started.

A few deep sighs didn’t help his nerves. He looked down at his outfit. Squeezing his fist twice to turn off the scanner, he felt in his pockets and satchel. That counted as a triple-check. Everything he thought he’d be needing was there, including all his knife-sets. His guns would be staying, they’d be too much out of place. The weight of the sword on his hips felt good, as if it had always belonged.

Time to stop stalling.

Staying here wouldn’t make a difference. She’ll never love you anyway.

He squeezed his fist. The red glow re-appeared. Not waiting for conscious thought—before the doubt came back—he let his hand glide over his body. It wasn’t necessary to cover every little area of himself. The warmth in his arm told him when it was ready. He had a copy of himself in him. Certainly a strange feeling.

He stared at the blonde-haired woman on the photo. It was staying on his desk, he didn’t want to take any reminders of her. Except for the ones he couldn’t erase—the ones in his head.

With a grim smile, he gave her an elaborate bow, the accompanying hand gesture ending on the book.

He was gone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Based upon a prompt given to me by @Terry_McGarry on Twitter: “lovelorn assassin, optical scanner, fantasy”. I’ve got to say, that was a difficult combination! But I managed to make something weird out of it hey 🙂