08-07-2013, 06:47 PM
Continued from: #4 A Chilly Abode
"Just give me the fucking money and leave."
It was the third time that Michael had run afoul of a meth-head or some other user riding on a low. The first two he had managed to scare off with petty tricks, but he did not want to do anything to bring attention to his powers if he could help it. He was not keen to end up in a lab as a guinea pig for some government experiment.
He decided to try something different this time. He pulled out a few notes - he wasn't sure which and didn't particularly care, it wasn't any great amount. "Take it then."
"All of it. Don't fuck with me, man. Just give me your wallet."
For a homeless man, he was a greedy bastard. Michael would have taken the offered money and ran. Perhaps that's why he wasn't homeless. At least, not any more.
He pulled another two notes from his pocket and threw them on the floor. The man was not pleased. He lunged forward with his cheap and rusted knife - the biggest danger would have been the possibility of Tetanus.
The charging man frightened him - he had not made a habit of getting into fights - but it was a distant fear, dwarfed by the thrill and potency his power brought.
He timed his attack just as the man came into believable range, he jabbed at the air with a fist that would have looked to be aiming for his head and slammed his ready weave of Air forward like a club.
As it hit the man's forehead he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground limp in unconsciousness. Michael checked that he had not killed the unlucky assailant before laying him down on a more comfortable pile of trash. It wasn't the safest place, nor the most hygienic, but the man had tried to kill him.
That done, Michael moved on. He did not have any real plan. He was not exactly sure how one would go about finding a rapist, kidnapper and possible cannibal, and he did not have the experience nor the resources to conduct a real investigation. So he did the next best thing.
Make himself a suitable target.
He was not sure that they would try to rape him, but if they were cannibals like Tony hinted at, they would not turn down the prospect of an easy meal. He would have been, if not for the gift life had seen fit to grant him.
He lingered on that thought. No longer a curse, but a gift. One that came with great hardship and danger, but he was beginning to believe it was not something evil, merely a tool that could be used, a very extraordinary tool.
The night dragged on and it was hours before he stumbled upon anything, but eventually he crossed paths with a woman in her middle years who seemed to be either extremely drunk or high.
She sat in the corner of an alley scratching at her needle-scabbed arms in wide-eyed delirium. Looking up, she hissed at him like an angry cat. "What do you want? Get the fuck out of here! I ain't got nothing for you."
"Should you be out alone at this time?"
he asked, concern leaking through, even though he had a task to accomplish. He couldn't just leave the poor woman there.
Unless...
"Never mind,"
he said, cutting off her reply. "I am sorry to have bothered you."
Michael turned away and found himself a dark corner in which to hide, his eyes fixed on the woman who was now whispering to herself.
His enhanced hearing alerted him to the presence and he pivoted, but too late.
Before he could unleash a weave something hard and cold collided with his head and he lost his grip on the power. His eyes swam with tears as he heard a low guttural voice in his ear. "You're a sneaky one, but I'm better."
His head throbbing, he lost consciousness....
Michael's eyes sprang open and he snatched at the power despite his aching head. He must have only been out for moments, as he heard the frantic screams of the drug-addled woman nearby.
He put aside the pain. He embraced it. He had been careless, arrogant. He would not make the same mistake twice.
Rage burned distant in the hollow of the void that surrounded him and the shining power as he scrambled to the woman's aid.
The scene was horrifying, he would have wretched, but he put aside all feeling with savage force.
The...thing - for he could not imagine a human so depraved - had forced himself on the woman, torn her meagre clothes to shreds. Rape was one thing, but he went further, she screamed in agony as he chewed on her shoulder. Not with the careless savagery of a rapist, but a real hunger for human flesh.
He wove threads of Air with all the speed he could muster and threw the monster from it's gruesome deed, slamming it into the side of the tunnel with a metallic thud.
He turned to the woman who lay shuddering, clutching at the bloody mess of her shoulder. "Go, now. I will take care of this."
The woman took one dazed look at his face and ran.
Attention turned to the monster, he gathered its limp form in bindings of Air so it floated a foot from his face, eyes level.
It was groggy, but conscious, and he could see the confusion and fear in its eyes. Good.
He forced a savage smile - more of a snarl - which did not come difficult as he looked at its blood coated face.
"Tell me, monster, where have you taken your other victims?"
he said in a quiet voice.
The thing spat blood on his face. "Go to hell, I will tell you nothing."
Michael wiped his face with a sleeve, his eyes never leaving the monster's. He prepared a weave of Fire and Spirit.
"You will soon."
Edited by Michael Vellas, Aug 11 2013, 07:21 PM.
"Just give me the fucking money and leave."
It was the third time that Michael had run afoul of a meth-head or some other user riding on a low. The first two he had managed to scare off with petty tricks, but he did not want to do anything to bring attention to his powers if he could help it. He was not keen to end up in a lab as a guinea pig for some government experiment.
He decided to try something different this time. He pulled out a few notes - he wasn't sure which and didn't particularly care, it wasn't any great amount. "Take it then."
"All of it. Don't fuck with me, man. Just give me your wallet."
For a homeless man, he was a greedy bastard. Michael would have taken the offered money and ran. Perhaps that's why he wasn't homeless. At least, not any more.
He pulled another two notes from his pocket and threw them on the floor. The man was not pleased. He lunged forward with his cheap and rusted knife - the biggest danger would have been the possibility of Tetanus.
The charging man frightened him - he had not made a habit of getting into fights - but it was a distant fear, dwarfed by the thrill and potency his power brought.
He timed his attack just as the man came into believable range, he jabbed at the air with a fist that would have looked to be aiming for his head and slammed his ready weave of Air forward like a club.
As it hit the man's forehead he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground limp in unconsciousness. Michael checked that he had not killed the unlucky assailant before laying him down on a more comfortable pile of trash. It wasn't the safest place, nor the most hygienic, but the man had tried to kill him.
That done, Michael moved on. He did not have any real plan. He was not exactly sure how one would go about finding a rapist, kidnapper and possible cannibal, and he did not have the experience nor the resources to conduct a real investigation. So he did the next best thing.
Make himself a suitable target.
He was not sure that they would try to rape him, but if they were cannibals like Tony hinted at, they would not turn down the prospect of an easy meal. He would have been, if not for the gift life had seen fit to grant him.
He lingered on that thought. No longer a curse, but a gift. One that came with great hardship and danger, but he was beginning to believe it was not something evil, merely a tool that could be used, a very extraordinary tool.
The night dragged on and it was hours before he stumbled upon anything, but eventually he crossed paths with a woman in her middle years who seemed to be either extremely drunk or high.
She sat in the corner of an alley scratching at her needle-scabbed arms in wide-eyed delirium. Looking up, she hissed at him like an angry cat. "What do you want? Get the fuck out of here! I ain't got nothing for you."
"Should you be out alone at this time?"
he asked, concern leaking through, even though he had a task to accomplish. He couldn't just leave the poor woman there.
Unless...
"Never mind,"
he said, cutting off her reply. "I am sorry to have bothered you."
Michael turned away and found himself a dark corner in which to hide, his eyes fixed on the woman who was now whispering to herself.
His enhanced hearing alerted him to the presence and he pivoted, but too late.
Before he could unleash a weave something hard and cold collided with his head and he lost his grip on the power. His eyes swam with tears as he heard a low guttural voice in his ear. "You're a sneaky one, but I'm better."
His head throbbing, he lost consciousness....
Michael's eyes sprang open and he snatched at the power despite his aching head. He must have only been out for moments, as he heard the frantic screams of the drug-addled woman nearby.
He put aside the pain. He embraced it. He had been careless, arrogant. He would not make the same mistake twice.
Rage burned distant in the hollow of the void that surrounded him and the shining power as he scrambled to the woman's aid.
The scene was horrifying, he would have wretched, but he put aside all feeling with savage force.
The...thing - for he could not imagine a human so depraved - had forced himself on the woman, torn her meagre clothes to shreds. Rape was one thing, but he went further, she screamed in agony as he chewed on her shoulder. Not with the careless savagery of a rapist, but a real hunger for human flesh.
He wove threads of Air with all the speed he could muster and threw the monster from it's gruesome deed, slamming it into the side of the tunnel with a metallic thud.
He turned to the woman who lay shuddering, clutching at the bloody mess of her shoulder. "Go, now. I will take care of this."
The woman took one dazed look at his face and ran.
Attention turned to the monster, he gathered its limp form in bindings of Air so it floated a foot from his face, eyes level.
It was groggy, but conscious, and he could see the confusion and fear in its eyes. Good.
He forced a savage smile - more of a snarl - which did not come difficult as he looked at its blood coated face.
"Tell me, monster, where have you taken your other victims?"
he said in a quiet voice.
The thing spat blood on his face. "Go to hell, I will tell you nothing."
Michael wiped his face with a sleeve, his eyes never leaving the monster's. He prepared a weave of Fire and Spirit.
"You will soon."
Edited by Michael Vellas, Aug 11 2013, 07:21 PM.
"She saw a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It shouted of glory and power to come"
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."