InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "It's French...we're frenching."

shang_tsung (shang_tsung) wrote in utr_logs,
@ 2008-08-13 21:02:00

Entry tags:

shang tsung

Who: Shang Tsung and OTA (anyone looking for some action in the slumps of London)
What: Shang Tsung needs souls
When: Wednesday night
Where: The slumps of London
Warnings: Rated R for murder and gang violence

London was a nice place for Shang Tsung, though he did truly find the accents to be deplorable. It was of no consequence though, because every place had its flaws. Shang Tsung had just blown off dinner with his wife, to feast on the souls of London scumbags. He would obviously find the poorest districts around, and feast upon the souls of the pettiest criminals. Perhaps tonight would be exciting?

He put on his nicest tuxedo, and jewelry in his master bedroom, and looked at himself in the long bedroom mirror. He truly looked extravagant, and would be great “prey” for assuming criminals. His black hair was now cut to his shoulders, but he pulled it back in a short (but neat) ponytail. He knew that he would be truly irresistible.

He had scanned the city thoroughly the other day, and would no longer need a vehicle for these needs. Besides, it was best to be as efficient as possible. He easily summoned a portal in his bedroom to a back alley in London, and with one final scan around the room he leaped in the portal.

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shang_tsung
2008-08-13 11:40 pm UTC (link)

The portal took him to the alley in an instant, and he looked around quickly. Nobody saw him entering, save a homeless man who was laying against one of the various scattered buildings. He was obviously drunk, and barely even cohesive. Slowly he looked up at Shang Tsung, who acknowledged him with a disgusted grunt before quickly leaving the alley. The air was pungent, and even one with the fortitude of Shang Tsung could barely suppress the gagging.

He stepped out onto the pavement, and scanned his surroundings. Various buildings were in states of disarray, and almost all were defiled with graffiti. Shang Tsung couldn’t resist the insight into culture, and he stayed a moment to read some of the graffiti. Some of which were about boast of sexual prowess, and one’s own endowment. Some of them were choice curse words, and racial slurs of all types. Shang Tsung slowly lost interest as they grew more and more irrelevant.

He decided that idiocy was the same everywhere, and it simply did not matter in this world. Some of the once glorious buildings were now in such states of shoddiness that Shang Tsung could barely hide his fury. If someone were to act out in such a way in his Kingdom, they would have quickly been stopped.

It did not take Shang Tsung long to see a group of thugs huddled near a streetlight that was burnt out. Shang Tsung could barely see their pale outlines in the dark, and he could just hear their low whispers. He looked up at the light post, and muttered a quick incantation under his breath. The light bust on, and lit up the whole street. Shang Tsung saw the distinct passing of drugs from one of the men, to the other and they all looked at him at once.

There were five of them, and they all looked to be in different states of filth. One of the men stepped forward, and got into Shang Tsung’s face. “What are you doing in this part of town Richie?”

Shang Tsung smelt the man’s horrendous breath, and was instantly repulsed. “Just taking a walk you know? Enjoying the lovely scenery around these parts,” Shang Tsung spoke in an airy voice.

“Oh look here,” said the man to the four thugs behind him. “We have a real funny guy here.” The man pushed Shang Tsung back, and took a foolish swing at him. Shang caught the man’s hand in mid-air, and extended it out. With his other arm he pushed up on the man’s elbow and snapped his arm.

The man howled in pain, and fell onto the pavement. “Get him!” he cried out to the four behind him. They all began to circle Shang Tsung, and he settled into his battle-pose.

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