Silently, he seemingly floated through the alley. Waiting. He peered around the corner, his face a shadow of the darkness that surrounded him. Waiting. His eyes followed each person as they made their way up and down the street. Men, women, children, couples old and young. None of them. He was waiting for the perfect one. His eyes darted back and forth as he studied each person. The man -- too skinny. The woman -- too old. The children - too young... too...innocent? Did he still have the soul to say that word? What was innocence? His bloodstained hand would carry fresh blood tonight. He knew it, he despised it, but he had not the power to stop it. He hungered for new blood, fresh meat. He suppressed the urge for over 24 hours this time, that was the longest he'd been able to go without it. He snarled at his own weakness. His eyes still watched the street, but his mind thought of other things. Tonight would be the fifth in the town...no more, he would move on before day-break. Another town...fresh, unsuspecting. Eventually they would find him, they would have to. He was to suspicious - if he was ever seen.
The moon was high in the sky when the time had come. He had been in the alley for...hours? Minutes? He could never tell anymore. His crimson eyes were tracing the few people that were still out at this time of the night. Finally the perfect one came. She was a woman, mid twenties, her long blonde hair bound back by a simple elastic. She was dressed in navy blue and her briefcase glistened in the moonlight. She was humming to herself. He made one futile effort to suppress it...to no avail. He slipped around the corner and still standing in the shadows surveyed her again. Checking once, then twice to ensure the streets were clear; then he pounced.
It happened all at once, and yet the images came in slow-motion. He grabbed her right shoulder, startling her and causing her to drop her briefcase. She spun around in surprise and nearly screamed, but a metallic hand silenced the screams in her throat. Panic took over her as her baby-blue eyes seemed to bug out of their sockets. He twisted his neck and bared his fangs. Just before he fed he whispered as soft as the wind, "I am sorry..."
- - -
Vincent sat straight up in the bed of the inn; wishing it was all but a dream. He could still taste her blood in his mouth. The taste sickened him, yet brought pleasure to the demon. He reached for his cape and then jumped gracefully out the humble window of his room. He sighed as he quickly made his way out of town. Back to Nibelheim? Perhaps. Perhaps that was the only place he could rest in peace. After all, he had gone for thirty years without feeding, why could he now only bare going one day? No, Nibelheim would only increase his need for feeding; all the memories, nightmares...
He was out of town now, wondering when the woman's family would find her. He wanted the souls of his victims to go and join the Lifestream, but he feared they would too be damned like him. He looked up at the sky and an ominous red meteor stared back at him. He nearly fell over. Causing his long ebony hair to swirl around him, he shook his head. Meteor? No, that threat had been gone for a long time. Far too long. He was one hundred years behind. Scoffing again he continued on.
On to a new city. A new life? No, for no matter where he went the demon would always follow him. Trapping him, using and abusing him for its own sick pleasures...
- - -
He had found a new alley, a new source of darkness, and yet the same hunger nagged him. He waited, for the next perfect one. When he or she would come, his hands would be stained with new blood. For no substance could clean then; he would be trapped within the demon and the demon would remain trapped within him. Two beings, one body. Yet, he wondered how long it would be before there was no longer a Vincent Valentine and only a Chaos occupying this body. He shook his head in disgust as the next perfect victim turned the corner in front of him. And the demon cried a sadistic cry of delight...
