08-29-2014, 06:19 PM
As Dane crossed the street, the three boys began to follow him. For the next block, they didn't gain any ground, but Dane wished they would. In fact, he specifically slowed his pace to force them to either do likewise or to reach him.
They caught up, spitting in the road and calling out profanities.
Dane turned, power rushed into his grasp. Their contorted, mocking faces became clear as day to him. He was in all black, including a button-down dress shirt tucked into sleek pants. He wore black dress shoes. A long black silk scarf billowed from his neck.
"Can I help you gentlemen?"
Dane asked.
One of the boys had intricate designs shaved into his black hair. The other two wore their hair in ponytails. The middle of the trio opened a switch blade and waved it at Dane as though to walk him between two buildings. The other two flanked and Dane found himself backing up. Dane checked his hair and obliged.
Once out of sight of potential security cameras, he gently placed the bag on the ground, careful not to rattle it too much, and slid his hands into his pants pockets.
Their leader flailed the knife at the bag, apparently interested in its contents. "Que hay en la bolsa?"
Dane did not know any Spanish and now was not appropriate time to retrieve his Wallet translator. Therefore his best guess was that they wanted to know what he had. Dane's gaze trailed to it but did not linger long, he kept his gaze focused on the two padres rounding him.
"Nothing of your concern friend,"
he said coolly. Power sizzled beneath his skin.
The two exchanged looks and rushed him. They grabbed his arms and shoved him against a wall, forcing out a pained grunt. His powers flickered, but he did not fight back. He was in full control of himself, and waited only for the right moment for grandest effect, of course.
With the seemingly limp and weak Dane under control, the second assailant went to help with the inspection of the bag. Dane smiled to the other as they were left alone. Beady eyes glazed high as the sky. But he apparently knew some English.
"What gringo? Think I'm pretty, gringo? Want to blow me, gringo?"
He said with sneering distaste.
Dane smiled and unleashed what was spinning in front of the man's face.
A grunt and it knocked him back a few steps and Dane pushed off the wall. With more room to work, an explosion of power flung him to the other building. He slammed into the brick and crumpled broken to the ground. The other two spat hated disbelief and ran at him. Dane slid his hands back in his pockets and re-crafted the same explosion and set it off before they could reach him. With the power dispersed among two individuals, they were not so violently flung aside. He had seconds to crush the skull of one while the other regained his feet.
Dane smiled between heavy breaths. The only street kid that remained was the one with the knife. He now wielded it like a shield, as though that might stop Dane. With the bodies of his two friends left for dead, he wisely turned to flee.
He did not make it far. Rope twined itself around his legs and dragged him on his belly tortuously back while Dane patiently waited. The man's fingers dug into the asphalt like it might save him, but it wouldn't. He was audibly crying by then, but without the harsh pop of gunfire, nobody in the area would think to call police. Not in this neighborhood.
Dane studied the designs shaved into the back of his scalp. In fact, he knelt down on one knee beside him to get a better look where he whispered in the man's ear. "Look at your friends."
The man did not know what he was saying. So Dane tried another tactic.
"LOOK!"
He roared and twisted the man's head sideways. The view of his dead partners should fill his view.
His sobbing turned to wet wailing. Dane's options were suffocation or decapitation, but neither option left him with the outcome he desired. Therefore, he tied ropes of air around the man's mouth, much like he would eventually tie his own black scarf around his face to conceal his identity. The man's annoying shrieks suddenly grew soft and simpering. Finally. Dane was left with some peace. Peace known only to the dead.
Like the man's friend. The one that knew English and requested oral sex.
Careful to avoid blood, Dane shoved him on his stomach with the square toe of his shiny dress shoe. He yanked the corpse's shorts low and studied the sight. The witness squirmed, but Dane ignored him.
It would dirty his knees to crawl on top of him. How he yearned for the nice, clean surroundings Aria and he and the reporter shared in Moscow. He knelt anyway and ran his palm along the curve of his leg and up his back. Sweat pasted his shirt to the skin. His pony tail was slick with grease. Finally, he grabbed a fist of hair and lifted the skull off the ground and listened to the way it dropped back to the cement. A beautiful, sweet thud. Like a cantaloupe.
He curled his fingers into the man's cheek and looked back to the weeping witness. "I apologize, but alas, I do not have the proper time."
He shrugged and with a few quick steps put the final man out of his misery.
All bonds of power dissolved. Dane zipped up the duffle bag after making sure its contents were unspoiled. He straightened his attire, smoothed his hair, twisted his scarf toward the side of his throat, and resumed his walk.
They caught up, spitting in the road and calling out profanities.
Dane turned, power rushed into his grasp. Their contorted, mocking faces became clear as day to him. He was in all black, including a button-down dress shirt tucked into sleek pants. He wore black dress shoes. A long black silk scarf billowed from his neck.
"Can I help you gentlemen?"
Dane asked.
One of the boys had intricate designs shaved into his black hair. The other two wore their hair in ponytails. The middle of the trio opened a switch blade and waved it at Dane as though to walk him between two buildings. The other two flanked and Dane found himself backing up. Dane checked his hair and obliged.
Once out of sight of potential security cameras, he gently placed the bag on the ground, careful not to rattle it too much, and slid his hands into his pants pockets.
Their leader flailed the knife at the bag, apparently interested in its contents. "Que hay en la bolsa?"
Dane did not know any Spanish and now was not appropriate time to retrieve his Wallet translator. Therefore his best guess was that they wanted to know what he had. Dane's gaze trailed to it but did not linger long, he kept his gaze focused on the two padres rounding him.
"Nothing of your concern friend,"
he said coolly. Power sizzled beneath his skin.
The two exchanged looks and rushed him. They grabbed his arms and shoved him against a wall, forcing out a pained grunt. His powers flickered, but he did not fight back. He was in full control of himself, and waited only for the right moment for grandest effect, of course.
With the seemingly limp and weak Dane under control, the second assailant went to help with the inspection of the bag. Dane smiled to the other as they were left alone. Beady eyes glazed high as the sky. But he apparently knew some English.
"What gringo? Think I'm pretty, gringo? Want to blow me, gringo?"
He said with sneering distaste.
Dane smiled and unleashed what was spinning in front of the man's face.
A grunt and it knocked him back a few steps and Dane pushed off the wall. With more room to work, an explosion of power flung him to the other building. He slammed into the brick and crumpled broken to the ground. The other two spat hated disbelief and ran at him. Dane slid his hands back in his pockets and re-crafted the same explosion and set it off before they could reach him. With the power dispersed among two individuals, they were not so violently flung aside. He had seconds to crush the skull of one while the other regained his feet.
Dane smiled between heavy breaths. The only street kid that remained was the one with the knife. He now wielded it like a shield, as though that might stop Dane. With the bodies of his two friends left for dead, he wisely turned to flee.
He did not make it far. Rope twined itself around his legs and dragged him on his belly tortuously back while Dane patiently waited. The man's fingers dug into the asphalt like it might save him, but it wouldn't. He was audibly crying by then, but without the harsh pop of gunfire, nobody in the area would think to call police. Not in this neighborhood.
Dane studied the designs shaved into the back of his scalp. In fact, he knelt down on one knee beside him to get a better look where he whispered in the man's ear. "Look at your friends."
The man did not know what he was saying. So Dane tried another tactic.
"LOOK!"
He roared and twisted the man's head sideways. The view of his dead partners should fill his view.
His sobbing turned to wet wailing. Dane's options were suffocation or decapitation, but neither option left him with the outcome he desired. Therefore, he tied ropes of air around the man's mouth, much like he would eventually tie his own black scarf around his face to conceal his identity. The man's annoying shrieks suddenly grew soft and simpering. Finally. Dane was left with some peace. Peace known only to the dead.
Like the man's friend. The one that knew English and requested oral sex.
Careful to avoid blood, Dane shoved him on his stomach with the square toe of his shiny dress shoe. He yanked the corpse's shorts low and studied the sight. The witness squirmed, but Dane ignored him.
It would dirty his knees to crawl on top of him. How he yearned for the nice, clean surroundings Aria and he and the reporter shared in Moscow. He knelt anyway and ran his palm along the curve of his leg and up his back. Sweat pasted his shirt to the skin. His pony tail was slick with grease. Finally, he grabbed a fist of hair and lifted the skull off the ground and listened to the way it dropped back to the cement. A beautiful, sweet thud. Like a cantaloupe.
He curled his fingers into the man's cheek and looked back to the weeping witness. "I apologize, but alas, I do not have the proper time."
He shrugged and with a few quick steps put the final man out of his misery.
All bonds of power dissolved. Dane zipped up the duffle bag after making sure its contents were unspoiled. He straightened his attire, smoothed his hair, twisted his scarf toward the side of his throat, and resumed his walk.