Celeritas [Jamie Bellafonte] (aimoboros) wrote in ofevil, @ 2009-10-16 01:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | celeritas |
WHAT: Death by heart attack.. and a fall.
WHEN: October 16, 2009; under cover of darkness. [Time of death: 2.50 am]
WHERE: The roof of his apartment building.
RATING/STATUS: R for character death/complete.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of cold air ruffling around him. Both his auditory and tactile senses were at work, taking in temperature, pattern, direction... and sound. You couldn't see the wind, but you could most definitely hear it. Especially if you were Jamie Bellafonte. He could hear it whistling, an acute and high-pitched whine that he could only imagine coming out of a living creature. A smirk crossed his features. Maybe it was a living creature, dispersed on the wind by a malfunctioning power. Its whistling might even be a howl of pain, misunderstood by humanity. The smirk disappeared. He took a deep, shuddering breath, remembering the scream of rage he'd given a week earlier.The building was cold, calm, quiet. It had made his skin crawl beneath the thin black clothes he'd worn. Upon reflection, blues or light greys would have afforded him more ability to hide in the building. The rustle of his own clothes and the rasp of his breathing were the only sounds he heard as he crept down the hallway. He made a quick turn into the execution room, and there she was. On the table, looking as peaceful as if she was asleep. The little girl he'd never known, blonde hair fanned out awkwardly over the metal table beneath her. His ears pricked, his own heart skipping beats. And then his face fell, and a primal scream erupted from his throat. She was dead, injected with poisons she never should have fallen victim to. Killed by these humans, these ugly, evolution-challenged creatures.
He shuddered, stepping back down into the dip of the roof. He bit his lip, feeling sharp teeth graze down over smooth skin. For the first time in quite a while, Jamie had failed. If only he'd gone sooner. If only he'd moved faster. If only he'd paid more attention. But no, he had failed. He wished desperately for emotional numbness, for the black inviting dearth of robotic existence. If the Devil had arrived at that exact moment offering Jamie just that, the Greek-Italian would've given anything to have it. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, hear the rush of blood in his ears. His awareness seemed to narrow to just that for a long moment before the heart began to subside, the anxiety pushed away.
For all that Jamie was a hardcore and occasionally frightening man, he could hit some of the strangest insecure lows. Perhaps because he faked so much, and he skirted the issue, and he lied... perhaps because of his mental instability, someone he'd never met and likely wouldn't have gotten on with was making him gasp for breath above an illuminated city. How foolish they are, he thought to himself. So sedate, so settled in this city. How different they would be if they had seen the outside world. If they could have seen her... A shudder ran through his body at the thought, and he pushed his daughter out of his mind one last time. Caoimhe Bellafonte, a young teenage girl, wouldn't enter his mind again. Not if he had anything to say about. He straightened, pulling his foot back from the ledge.
Training. He could train. He could push away the mental and concentrate on the physical. Jamie bit his lip again, this time feeling his teeth cut down nice and hard to spill his blood. The pain and the immediate air flow to dry the split lip made him suck in a breath, and then he nodded. With all the grace of a feline, he leapt up onto the ledge. For a few minutes, he walked back and forth along the raised lip of the roof. His movements were quick and efficient, and he soon grew bored of pacing. Just as he paused to begin a new routine, pain rocketed through his chest. In that moment, two very curious thoughts rushed through his head. First: Gunshot. Second: The girl. His head jerked up, and his ears perked. Where was the report? He turned, just as pain erupted in his left arm. A screech left his mouth, the howl of an animal that was hurting. From that one sound, one might almost say that his humanity had finally dissipated. Anyone hearing his screech could almost say that he'd finally lost touch with the coherent soul within him, the only remaining link between what little sanity he had left and total carnality demolished.
As his mind went reeling for the final time, Jamie's right rear foot shifted awkwardly back. He didn't realise it, because his body was beginning to rebel. Everything was going wrong, and he couldn't comprehend it. He wasn't sure he even wanted to try. Instinct told him to whip around and seek the source of his injuries, and so he did. It wouldn't have been a problem... if he wasn't on the ledge. His foot was misplaced, and when he put weight on it, he lost his balance. There were several stories between where he stood and the black road beneath, which gave him several seconds to think before he hit the ground. A high-pitched whine escaped him as he began to fall.
Those last few seconds as he fell were the longest of his life, drawn out by his power. As he fell, despite the pain shooting up and down his arm, Jamie came to a sort of peace. Death was a part of the life cycle. He had long ago come to accept that. He'd always thought of himself as a grim reaper of sorts, bringing people to death to complete the life-cycle. Even though he'd always walked into a job expecting not to return, Jamie had never quite imagined he'd end up on this end of things. He tumbled through the air, though his limbs didn't flail and he didn't seem to be at all distressed. He supposed the Bellafonte line would end with him.. with him, and that pretty little girl. He hadn't even known she existed until he caught her scent on the artificial wind of the air conditioning system.
The last words of Jamie Alexzander Bellafonte would be heard by no one but God and the speaker himself. They came out of his mouth just before his body hit the asphalt road, whispered quietly. "Her name was Caoimhe," he said. And then the quiet ended, the peace was over, and the mutant was gone.