Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

"Stay here," Rhett says.

They were crouched down behind a large, abundant, green willow tree, within the blossoming shrubs—by the serene, green emerald lake.

Looking through the misty moon, veiled by lustrous woolly clouds in the sombre, dark blue sky.

Wild shrubs and pearly bright flowers of blooming wildflowers, permeating throughout, under the weeping shadows of the verdant willow.

They had almost made it to the faithful church.

However, the illuminations of golden victorian lanterns erected all over the edges, flickers at the sight of armed gang, strolling around the compound of the church.

"No," Neva whispers, bothered, grasping his arm hard. He rives his gaze from analysing the arena and back to lace his eyes with the flurried woman—seated beside him on the ground, fatigued.

"I'll be here with you, before you even know it." He assures, caressing her warm reddened cheek. She shakes her head, drawing his hand away, she holds it close to her chest. "You can just shoot them from here."

"Their count is large, and I don't have a spare magazine conserved." He responds, calmly.

"Isn't it enough? You even got the gun from the man you shot." Neva presses, her voice withering away, her orbs, moist and blurred.

All these guarded troops, and Rhett alone resisting them. She abhors the illusion of the scene she envisions.

"That'll make noise. I for the world wouldn't want you in danger." Saying, he kisses, comfortingly her forehead.

The assault rifle didn't have a silencer on, if he made a noise, ganging up altogether, the troops would thunder down attacks on them. And lamentably, there remained hardly any ammunition left in the gun.

"Either way, I have to go. Shield yourself behind the tree." He hands her a pistol. She frowns, not liking the feeling of an eerie gun in her hold.

"Remember everything I have taught you. You have a great aim. Use it if need arises." He folds her fingers around the pistol, securing both of her hands, around the grip of the weapon.

"You know I won't be able to," she whimpers, tears trickling down her face.

"You wouldn't need to, I'll make sure of that. But there's an if of one percent. I believe in you. Do you believe in me?" He asks her, a faint smile feathered on his lips.

She nods, "I do, but you need it more."

"I have this savage, it's more than enough." He declares, grabbing the rifle.

"Be safe," she says, sniffling. He smiles, "I will." And he moves away from her, without a sound.

Her gaze trails his filmy form, lurking in the dark shadows of the chilling trees. He, in a breath, vanishes from her eyes.

Leaning her back on the willow tree, head tilt back on the rugged trunk, she let's her tears fall inaudibly.

The man dressed in all black, a black skull cap donned over his head. He calmly examines the area. Rhett, the rifle hanged on his shoulder, he looms behind the man.

He whistles a little sound in his ear. And with a whirl of his head, Rhett breaks his neck with a single snap.

A limp body drops in his arms, he silently, drags the body in the dark, deposing it in the bushes.

In the omnious penumbras, he would prey on the brute, stripped of eyes from it's herd. An unclawed hand wrapped around the mouth, he would slit the throat with a dagger.

He executed the assasinations, with extreme, akin flawless advances. He wouldn't fraction an eye in commiseration of the souls he ripped away.

Rhett had an apocalyptic aura, oozing out of him.

Agent Czar, had no void space for mercy in his heart.

The lingering assailants cognizances the dissapearing forces. Grazing the chin and the head, he simultaneously breaks the neck.

He grabs the assault rifle with a silencer on, —from the loosened hold of the fallen man, casting away his own.

He tilts his head in wonder; they were hardly any strain to deal with. Why did they want to ambush the countryside?

A man had heed to his presence. Still unsure, he carefully, steadily steps into the darkness. His gun, vigilantly aimed around at the unseen Rhett.

Rhett aims his assault rifle at the man, the cold tip of the silencer poking at his forehead. The perplexed man, didn't apprehend the iminent dead. For, in a blink of an eye, Rhett explodes his head.

Rhett seals his eyes, hot vermillion blood splattering over his face.

The victim falls on the ground in a thud, hauling in consciousness.

"Who's there?" A man voices out in an anxious tone. Rhett walks out the shadiness, the fluttering lanterns gleam bright, chiselling golden brilliance upon him.

The man bulges his eyes out at the imbrued view of him—positioning the gun to kill him. Nevertheless, before he could drive his finger to pull the trigger, Rhett blows up his head to liquids. Then arrives the never-ending footsteps of troops.

He groans in anger, and adjusts the assault rifle, to a full-automatic firing mode. He rumbles bullets at them, rupturing off their skulls. They sprawl out dead on the ground, one after another, with an absence of a final lament; for their brain were gruesomely masticated out the skulls.

His priceless fancy; ornamenting the heads with bullets.

He scans around, there remained no savages near distant.

He rushes back towards the willow tree, wedging through the lush, pricking shrubs.

"Angel?" He softly murmers. Neva flinches hard, she had her head buried in her hands; praying to God to let him be unharmed.

He caresses her shoulder, "It's fine, I'm here." She glimpses up at him, her lips quivering at his bloody sight.

"Are you hurt?" She sobs out, he shakes his head—embracing her warm. She weeps, soaking his chest in salty dribbles. Her shuddering frame, her little whimpers, drilling his fragile heart. She holds onto him, close and tight.

She clenches her fists in his t-shirt, horrified of the darkened world.

"Shh... Everything's fine. I'm not hurt, not even a bit." He gently strokes her hair, breathing out a sigh of solace. Pulling away, he aches at her tear smeared face. He wipes away the flowing tears with his thumb.

"Are you alright?" He asks, she nods in reply.

She unzips the bag and takes out a thin, savanna pink, summer scarf. She gently caresses his chin, brushing the blood stains, off of his face.

He smiles at her. His heart sweetened at her warm gesture. "Let's go." He gets the pistol discarded by her on the grass, and tucks it inside his holster. As she gathers the bag, he cradles her in his arms.

She nudges his chest away, "You shouldn't carry me." She remarks, as he leisurely starts sauntering towards the Country Church with her in his arms. "I don't want you looking at the grimy scene." He declares. "But, the gun?" She gestures at the assault rifle he left behind.

"I don't need it." He utters, his strides hastier—towards the rear of the church.

Landing her airily on her feet, he inspects the wall overwhelmed with serried flowering creepers. Tapping the walls, gliding away the vines, he observes the outline of the grey door that had unveiled.

"Is this the hidden door?" Neva queries, amazed, it had been well concealed behind the flowers.

"Yeah, but it's locked." He returns, thumping the door. He threads their eyes, "You have to step aside Angel."

She agrees, moving a little far away. He steps back, and he lunges upon the door. He cracks the door open, with solely a meagre strength in his shoulder.

"Wahh," Neva praises, in awe of her mighty husband. He shrugs, "It's just a rusty door."

Bang!!

A storming bullet rages at him from behind the door.

Neva gasps in shock, her heart drops.

Rhett was taken aback, a bolt out of the blue.

The instinct in his muscles kicked in. He dodged the fire. He had slightly moved his head, the bullet an inch away from his ear.

He frowns. He looks at Neva; she is traumatized.

Clicking of feet—climbing up the stairs, resounds through the underground shelter.

They had missed the shot, the man had merged himself in the darkness, being unable to aim without his visible frame. They dare step out the shelter, with truancy of fear in their chest.

Rhett grips the barrel of the shotgun, the gun firing in the air. His pistol steered at the middle aged man's temple, he discerns the panic-stricken citizens behind.

He sighs, "We won't harm you."

The shorter, middle aged man on gun point, he shakes his head. "Brothers! Do not worry about me! Defeat these bastards!" He exclaims out loud, his legs though, trembles in fear.

"I told you, we are no harm. I live here with my wife." He speaks out to them.

Nonetheless, the man shakes his head. "Do not trust them brothers! They are murderers! Shoot them down!"

Rhett pierces the muzzle of the gun deeper in his skull. Eyes shut tight, he yelps out scared.

"Don't crap out the time!" He clenches his jaw, glaring at them with irate eyes.

"No-!" "Let them in!" Before the man could continue nonsense, a tall young man, walks out at the entrance.

He reveals himself, a lowered shotgun in his hand.

Rhett raises his brow, the boy's familiar.

"What are you spitting!!" The rigid man, below the stairs retorts.

"I know him, we are neighbours." Jayden replies. "I see now. He is a neighbour." Another voice affirms his words, striding up the stairs.

"What? Traitors!! Kill them!!" The man shouts, rather furious.

"They are traitors!!"

"Kill these swines!!"

"Shoot them down!!"

They blare out, they were more than twenty of them, all armed, either with guns, or bows and arrows.

They were violent, for they were terrified of the tragedy that had unfold brutally—before their uncomplicated eyes.

"God dammit!" Rhett exclaims under his breath. His eyes searches for a pale looking Neva. She looks at him, her contracted hands clutching her baby bump.

Worry tints his orbs; she was in pain.

"Angel," he shoves away the middle aged man.

He urges towards her, holding her trembling form. He wraps his arms around her, aiding her safe. She leans into his soothing warmth. Dizzy, her belly hurting awfully.

The middle aged man, keeps gasping out aloud. He was scared to his wits.

Jayden had at end, perceived Neva he had foraged recklessly around.

He runs towards her, "Oh Lord," Nervousness grips his heart, his features contoured in anxiousness.

He glances back at the countryfolks, "Do you not see the lady? Let them in!" He rages at them. The men below, they climb up to unveil the scene. Their eyes on the couple, stucked at the pregnant woman.

They exchange gazes at each other, nodding at their comrades in realization.

"They will be tolerated in the shelter." The severe man, who harshly surmised Jayden and his brother of being traitors mounts down the stairs. His grim silhouette, fading into the inked corridor.

"You can bring her in." Jayden says to Rhett. "Will you need any assistance?" Jason asks, standing beside his brother.

"No." Replies Rhett, his voice monotonous.

Swinging the bag in his shoulder, he cradle carries her in his arms. She buries her face in his chest, her face scrunched up in agony.

He carefully descends down the weary stairs, deep into the dark.

He's frightened, the menacing atmosphere hovering over the land. If she's in unbearable torment, he wouldn't be able to take her to the hospital.

The brothers, trades glances at each other. With the few men, who hadn't still left, they make sure the door is obscured and locked well.