A Man's Perspective Novels & Stories

I love to give a few punches, it always helps me decompress. With my perimeter vision, I saw someone shouting at my side. A man in his mid-forties was approaching me. He was very tall and his body was well built. He had brown hair with a little gray on his temples, black eyes and some wrinkles on his face. I looked around and realized I was there alone. He came closer to me. -" Hey you there, what's your name? "he asked. -"Are you talking to me?" I wondered. -"Yes you! Do you see anyone else around?" he said in a sarcastic way.

JUNE “You don't have to look anxious, I just —” “She doesn't wish to speak with someone like you.” A man sat on my left, with his glare narrowed at him. Compared to the man sitting on my right, this one looked clean-shaven. His black hair is slicked to the side with a gel. His green eyes glittered with anger, staring at the man as if he were moments from throwing him away. “Why do you care? Wait for your turn mister. No one asked for your opinion, mister." The first man glared at him, looking god-damned murderous.

The man sat all alone with just his drink and phone . He looked like he had something that was bothering him . I watched his every move but his gaze still did not leave me even though I sat here right in front of him . "Is there any problem Here mr ?" I asked looking at the man . I knew I shouldn't be doing this but one thing I must commend was the fact that this man was good looking . He had the most interesting and rather handsome face. He's the most beautiful man that I had ever seen ,he was tall and his Hazel eyes made him more outstanding .

At this point, I'm just buying time, while my mind clambers to think of a way to get out of this. The man glances up at me. Through his dark strands of hair, are eyes of pure obsidian to match. My blood runs cold at the sight of them. Is this what pure evil looks like, wrapped in a spectacular body. “It just doesn't make sense to me, how someone can take another person's life, just because they want the best for their people,” I continue. He watches me, not saying a word. “And with knives,” I say, swallowing as my gaze drifts down to the blades glinting brilliantly on his thighs. “It just seems so cruel.”

He reminds me of Uncle Craig, charismatic and bold—deceptively so. My fourth captor is smaller than the others and less confident. He stands to the side, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to shrink in on himself, but that doesn’t make him appear any smaller. His expression is bitter, a permanent scowl etched onto his face. Unlike the others, he isn’t looking at me, but at the fifth and final man in the room—almost as if searching for approval. Alexander Mancini is the man on whom I focus.

" No thank you, I'm fine on my own." " Well you know I won't mind helping a beautiful lady as yourself." I looked at him straight in the eye and he had so much confidence. But I wasn't going to let that sway me. " Like I said earlier, I'm fine on my own." The man sighed. " I have someone who works in homeland services and security, I could talk to her." He said staring at me he looked like he could see through. For a minute I was almost charmed by his beautiful brown eyes.

But that had been before everything in his life had begun to slide down into the depths of despair. Irritated, he shook the thoughts away and trained his lens on the man. As he zoomed in on the man, he felt a slight twinge of alarm. That hard profile, the cold blue-grey eyes, the nose with a broken bent and the air of confidence, the immediate respect he seemed to command.

He feels the presence of a few more people behind him as well, he's surrounded. “Are you Lawson?” the tall man asks. Nothing in his tone asks for permission. “That’s me,” Aaron answers. His voice tries to be steady and he mostly succeeds. He keeps his hands visible. “Can I help you gentleman?” The man smiles thinly, without humor. “You helped yourself, Mr. Lawson, but you helped a man you thought needed saving. Those are two different things, two things can be done, but in this case, not both things are right." He takes off his sunglasses despite the dark, and Aaron realizes the eyes beneath are cold and clean as a blade. “Do you know what that looks like to us?”

I knew every rule. A voice came from the far end of the corridor. Low. Male. Dry. "You didn't flinch." I turned. A man leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Lean, dark-eyed, face unreadable. He wore Ironveil black but no insignia on his collar. Either no rank or so far above rank that marks had become pointless. I guessed the second. "Most people flinch," he said. "Most people have something to protect," I answered. He looked at me a long beat. Something shifted in his eyes. Just the small click of a man updating a calculation he thought he had finished.