Wounded Protectors: Immortals In New York 2

Mia smelled the earth and the foliage surrounding her as she waited. Her hair tucked in tightly under her camouflage hood. Her green cargos and boots blended with the bushes as she stood silent. Looking down at the Bethesda Terrace Fountain from her place behind the greenery, her eyesight was phenomenal through the darkness. She spotted the Angels of Waters sculpture that sat in the center of the masterpiece. One of the angels carried a lily in her hand and she thought of the flowers meaning - purity. She remembered studying the landscape and architecture of the park that sat in the center of her beloved New York City. The woman, who designed and dedicated the beautiful piece of art that flowed with the city water, once linked the fountain’s water to the healing power of the pool in Jerusalem quoted in John 5:2-4 of The Bible. However, Mia’s heart felt impure and no healing would come of what she was about to do - she must do. The sword felt heavy in her hands as she held on to the handle for dear life. The silver blade with its gleaming sharp point shone in the moonlight like a beacon guiding her to her prey. It was the only weapon she could use to accomplish her deed. The inscription along the jagged edges acted as her guide while she bid her time watching the beast scan the area around him. The beast heard a sound and quickly turned to see a slim black cat scurry towards him, it caught his eye for a split second, its gleaming slanted green eyes glared at him then it hissed and ran away. He had no desire to harm the stray so he turned his back continuing his scan of the area, carefully following the whistles of the strong winds that seemed to swirl around him. Mia had to be extremely quiet or she was dead meat. She lifted the weapon carefully trying not to hit the leaves on the higher plane where she stood. Lifting the heavy silver steel quietly was a strenuous task, as she stepped gingerly to the edge of the boulder. She laid the weapon against her right shoulder as if she were holding a baseball bat, in order to make one clean swing to his neck, knowing if she didn’t succeed she would die. Mustering all the courage she had, feeling her nerves prickling like pins on her skin causing her adrenaline to spike, she focused her eyes on her target and swung with all the power in her being. He turned his head to meet her with a violent yell.