The pale blue along his arms filled the alley with soft light, pure and gentle as they started to scream.
His strength was unbelievable, his speed beyond perception. Three men drew guns the moment he stepped into their path, and one of them was already crying out into the stars before the first trigger was pulled. That blue light pulsed slow and rhythmic, filling the air and the shadows and the coats, catching the snow in sparkles. That first hand twisted and snapped like broken ice, the body tossed behind like a heavy drift.
He kept walking.
The second of the trio fired franctically, striking brick and dumpster steel, but finding nothing but the echoes of that blue light, growing stronger and deeper all the while. He felt a sudden cold behind them and then a deep pressure at his back. Then he felt nothing, stumbling forward with an odd, disjointed gait. His legs were numb and unresponsive, his chest thrust an inch ahead of itself. He fell, never to stand again.
He kept walking.
The last of them backed away, firing shot after shot. The man in the blue lights never once stopped. The shots strayed, fear giving the killer armor. The man in the blue caught the gun, crushed it. He reared back a fist.
“Please! Stop! Don't kill me! I don't want to die!!!” The target, a petty murderer and thug, was as afraid as any other human being that night. He reeked of sweat and piss and fear, and he was weak before this thing, this force of nature. It paused, considering him.
“Why are you crying? You've killed many. Tears did not stop their deaths. It is an inefficient tactic.” The voice was neutral...cold. New snow fell amid the deep blue light, sticking the target's clothes, his hair, his face.
“I-I don't want to die...I'm a bastard, but I don't wanna die! Look! You're crying, too...you don't want to do this!”
The killer looked down at his target, glancing at the blue glow. Snowflakes covered the ground in his wake. Drops of sleet spilled down his face, onto this last victim. “I feel nothing...tears are an unregulated response. My emotions, however, are regulated.”
He lifted his victim, who started to thrash and to choke. In the blue light, growing deeper with each passing gasp, he was turning blue as well. “Unregulated, I could not restrain myself. Everything would die.” He clenched his fist – his fingertips met his palm and the man grew still.
“The blood of a god must be regulated. Such technologies are not inexpensive,” said the killer, as he walked out of the frozen alley. Tears froze to his face and to the place of death behind him.
He kept walking.
No comments:
Post a Comment