Phoenix (akashas_angel) wrote in ourtrueselves, @ 2009-05-09 20:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | alexander churchill |
'caus we'll burn it to the ground tonight~
Who: Phoenix, npcs
What: Time they learned the rules of the game.
When: 11:30 local time
Where: Tokyo
Warnings: Violence
Flashing lights.
From the top of the skyscraper, Phoenix hissed, silvery eyes narrowing in anger. For the last eight hours, he hadn't been able to feed in peace; those flashing lights, the sirens, tore the beautiful night air apart and the last few times he'd hunted, he'd been forced to leave the bodies only half-drained. Some instinct or half-his memory warned him that those lights meant danger, and he'd fled every time they drew near.
No longer. Those memories weren't his, and he had no reason to fear anything. This was his territory, his city, his country. He'd run the length and breadth of the land last night, torn apart the two other vampires he'd found. And now this place was his, completely. He was the hunter, and these were his prey.
It was time they learned the rules of the game.
His powers had grown. They grew constantly, the store within him deepening by the hour, but each of his powers were different and they felt different when he used them. Flying felt like surrender; so did teleportation.
Using the fire felt like sending out a piece of his soul that set alight all it touched before he took it back.
Straightening, Phoenix felt the building's granite beneath his bare feet as he walked to the edge, and he looked down, waiting, watching. The wind brushed through his hair, the city lights glinting on the black-and-gold of it, and hanging over the dark blue jumper his bullet hung on it's silver chain, shining, the same colour as his eyes.
The blue and white sirens came flashing closer, near to the alleyway at the foot of this building, where he'd deliberately left his last kill. His mouth twisted into a smirk.
And he leapt from the edge.
He plummeted, withholding the power that would have kept him from falling so that he dropped like a hawk plunging for the mouse, a bullet from a gun, a fallen angel; the air ripped past him and the world – his world – blurred.
He landed in a crouch on the hood of the first police-car with a bang.
The car swerved, the smell of burning rubber fighting with the screech of brakes and car-horns as the vehicle cut across the road, but Phoenix kept his place as easily as his smirk, silver eyes locked with the wide, terrified brown of the man in the car. Around him, tires squealed and cars crashed, fires burst into existence as engines exploded, and prey started screaming.
They also started taking pictures, but he ignored them.
He shattered the glass of the windscreen with a thought and dragged the screaming officer from his seat with ease, laughing at the exhilaration of it. The firelight caught his fangs, and they glinted, reducing the man in his hold to terrified whimpers as Phoenix lifted him off the hood of the car by his throat.
“Tell them,” he said softly, the perfect Japanese reaching the man's ear as he kissed it mockingly, “that Phoenix has claimed this city, this country. Tell them a demon-prince walks here now – and anyone who fights against him will be destroyed. Tell them to stop hunting me, or things will become much, much worse.”
He released the man, let him fall back onto the hood of the car, whimpering and terrified.
“Remember,” he cautioned, smirking – and leapt straight up, vanishing.
As he did so, every car on the street – all but the police-car he'd landed on – exploded like dying stars in the night of Tokyo city.
Let them hunt him now.