[ WP ] He drew his sword silently

He drew his sword silently, hidden in the shadows underneath a set of stairs. It was more of a long knife, really, but it was all he had. He had n't expected to end up in this situation. 
 
 Marc had always relied on his powers. They were something like magic, but limited to the manipulation of rock and earth. He could n't use his powers here; he was outnumbered by a great margin. No matter how strong he was, he would n't stay alive out in the open. He snuck around in the shadows, his knife in his hand, ready for what came next. 
 
 It was supposed to be a simple retreival job, not even enough to justify sending Marc's partner. Just go here, grab the item, take it back home. No one had expected this many people to be at the facility. Lucky for Marc, he was quick on his feet and could hide easily in the shadows. Had it been anyone else, they would have turned back and requested assistance. 
 
 Marc was too stubborn for that. 
 
 He darted quickly up the stairs, as quietly as he could, hoping that no one was walking the opposite direction. Luckily for him, it was empty and quiet. Unluckily for him, the room he needed to be in had two guards inside the door. He had to weigh his options. 
 
 Marc did just that, sitting across the hall from the room. He had two real options: either he could rush in and take the item before he could get caught, hoping that the two guards were n't fast enough, or he could use his magic and send a beacon to every other magic user in the area. The first meant the possibility of a tussle and capture, the second meant almost certain death. Going back was not an option anymore. 
 
 Gripping his knife tightly, Marc bolted into the room. He spotted what he needed immediately and ran towards it, the now shouting guards on his heels. Marc grabbed the item just as a guard grabbed his shoulder. 
 
 Marc turned, his knife still in his hand. He felt resistance, and then the feel of the knife sliding through meat as though it was warm butter. Blood from the guard's neck splattered on Marc's face, dripping down his chin onto his shirt and matting his hair. He could n't tell if the cry of surprise was him or the guard. 
 
 Before Marc could process what happened, the second guard was on him. Another swing of his arm, another cry, and more blood. The second guard dropped onto the first. Marc was acting on instinct, and he did n't bother to clean his face. People would be in that room soon, looking for the guards. He made sure he still had the item, concentrated, and was gone. 
 
 Marc reappeared at his team's base and was greeted by his partner, who had been waiting for him. The adrenaline wore off, and he fell forward into her arms, struggling to keep his feet beneath him. 
 
 `` Marc? Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? What happened?'' 
 
 `` I'm... I'm okay, Jess,'' Marc gasped. `` Not my blood.'' 
 
 `` Whose is it?'' 
 
 `` Guards, two of them. I killed them, Jess, I killed two people!'' Marc began to cry, tears making tracks down his bloody face. `` Two grown men with families, dead by my hand. And you know what's worse?'' 
 
 `` What's worse?'' Jess asked hesitently, not really wanting to know the answer. 
 
 `` It was so easy, Jess. A knife through butter. One little slip, and two men died. And I could do it again, too.'' 
 
 `` M-Marc?'' Jess was uneasy. Marc was dangerously close to breaking down. 
 
 `` I'm scared, Jess. I'm scared of what I'm capable of.'' 
 
 `` Me too, Marc. Me too.''
