PSYCHO MANTIS. [ a terrible madness ] (psycho_mantis) wrote in parabolical, @ 2007-12-23 01:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | jaina solo, psycho mantis |
who; Mantis (& open, if someone wants to attempt it).
where; Some.. poorly lit street in the middle of gang territory.
when; Sat., Dec. 22nd, just before midnight.
summary; Well. He's a crazy motherfucker.
rating; R, for violence and sort of.. semi-gory stuff.
status; Umm.. depends on if someone wants it?
On some level, beneath the constant clamor of voices pushing inside his mind, beneath the disorientation and the faint illness, Mantis knew that he probably wasn't doing so well. Dying had thrown him off somewhat, it seemed, because what little shielding he had was utterly gone---he was relying entirely on his mask, and that was really only a filter, at best, keeping the loudest of the voices from overwhelming him too badly. He hadn't eaten in.. days, was it? Probably since not long after arriving in Los Angeles, and that had been.. what? He couldn't even remember. He'd probably gotten it out of a dumpster, anyway. Or maybe that frightened old librarian had given it to him.
That was right--she had, hadn't she? The sandwich from her lunch. She'd practically thrown it at him and had fled back to her office. Mantis had eaten it, hunched over one of the public-access computers, not really tasting it beneath the flavour of ashes and blood. Food had never held much interest for him; even less after the fires that had scarred him. The fires he'd caused.
There was no regret there---his father had deserved it, and the townspeople, at least, were at peace. He didn't mind his own scarring. He'd never been a pretty child, always sick, wasting, as white and hairless as an unfinished doll. The burns didn't matter. No one ever saw them, anyway, did they?
Had he eaten since then? No. Had he slept? He couldn't remember. Probably not, if the sound of one of the vampires' thirsty thoughts had him so desperately furious.
He barely had time to think, to breathe, before his body was reacting for him.
"Go to your miserable end!" his mouth shrieked quite without his permission, rasping and hissing beneath the mask, amplified into nearly ear-splitting quality by his abilities. He was spinning to face the shocked creature then, arms spreading, bloodshot gray eyes enraged beneath the eerie gas-mask. Telekinetic power pulsed outward, ripping into the buildings on either side of them, and Mantis sliced a hand through the air---turning the power into a blade that split the vampire, whining and writhing, from groin to chin. --Intestines spilled out, blood-wet and splattering with a satisfying slick sound on pavement, and Mantis' breath wheezed out in furious satisfaction to see the terror in the strange, ridged face.
He took a step into the air, toes lifting from pavement as he glided over, and gloved fingers brushed tenderly over the tanned skin that had once been human.
"Pray for oblivion," he whispered, and with a delicate gesture of his free hand, ripped the vampire's heart out.
Goodbye.