The city lights were bright but everywhere was dark…
Underneath a lone streetlight, stood a man in a trench coat. A shady fellow, his face hidden beneath his grey fedora and the collar of the trench coat up. Hands in pockets, hunched shoulders. The good old-fashioned violin case on his side. Very suspicious, if one were to look out their window into the streets below. He was waiting for something or someone. Occasionally, the man in the trench coat tapped his foot, pushing away a long sleeve to reveal an expensive watch. Impatient. Nervous. Waiting for something to happen.
Something drifted towards him. A piece of newspaper, a week old by the looks of the date. The someone he was waiting for had come to give the message. The piece of newspaper dropped near the man's feet and he kneeled down to pick it up. His eyes glanced around but he could see no one within his sights. Unfolding it, he read its contents and slipped it into his pocket.
The man in the trench coat kicked the violin case into the shadows. He couldn't see the other but something was going down.
The case was nearly in their grasp. The foolish man brought it to him, alone. No one else in sight, a full moon. Ready, and something was about to go down in this very city. Suddenly, something swooped, catching the case at the very last second. It was so close, their skin prickling with goose bumps from the force of the wind.
Recovering quickly from the shock, they howled and snarled in anger. The man in the trench coat backed away from the cacophony of guttural sounds in fear. He looked all around him into the darkness but saw nothing despite full moon.
"Looking for something?"
They looked up to see a figure of a silhouette against the moon. In the figure's hands was the desired case. They snarled angrily at the newcomer but the man in the trench coat merely cowered in fear. Unfortunate for him to be in the wrong place at the coincidently wrong time. A foolish man, indeed.
"You! Give it to me!" they snapped up at the stranger.
"What are you talking about?" the stranger answered. The figure held up the violin case against the shining moon. "Do you mean this old thing?"
"Yes! Yes!" they snarled, their hands grabbing up at the air uselessly. "Give it to me now!"
"What's so special about this?" the stranger asked. "Unless… This is your treasure?"
The man in the trench coat could almost see the raised eyebrow on the stranger's face.
"I told you to give it to me, you lesser being! It is mine! Mine!"
The phantom stranger flashed a pearly white grin. "The more you demand for it, the more I want to open it!"
"Don't you dare!"
The stranger shook the case. A rumble from within indicated the case's mysterious contents. The smirk was back on his face at the noise. The snarling shadows grew angrier as the stranger began to unfasten the straps of the violin case.
"No, you will not!"
They jumped out of the shadows and took a lunge with their claws at the phantom stranger. The latter calmly leaned back, narrowly avoiding the attack. The man in the trench coat watched as the demon-like being continued to lash out towards the stranger.
The demon-like monstrosity paused to catch its breath. Now, no longer under the protection of the shadows, the man in the trench coat could finally view their unusual appearance. The monstrosity was hunched back, overweighed by its large and powerful forearms. He noticed that its muscular goat legs were how it was able to jump up to the stranger in a single leap. The demon's rugged skin was tattooed with scars and throbbing white veins, which explained the need for the meeting at night. But the one feature that truly screamed out to the man of its demonic origins were their glowing, crimson red eyes.
"My turn."
The phantom stranger brushed his right hand over his cape, revealing an intricately decorated cane. His hand grasped the cane, tapping it twice onto the ground. The demon's toothy grin gleamed in the moonlight as they cackled.
"What was that supposed to do? Scare me into submission?"
"If it did just that, this wouldn't have been the rather exciting strife I'd expect it to be."
A piece of paper rustled, making the demon tense. The man in the trench coat watched as the wind began to howl and pick up speed, bringing along many pieces of paper into its vortex. Soon the whirlwind became a full-blown tornado, surrounding the monster. No matter how they tried to get out of the violent tornado, the papers sliced and the sheer speed of the wind flung them back. They were stuck with no way out.
"You think some wind and paper would stop us?" they roared, despite their precarious situation.
"Seems they're doing pretty well at keeping you away so far." the phantom stranger answered calmly, slipping a hand in one of his pockets. He took it out, to reveal a card held between his middle finger and index finger.
"Pathetic!" they laughed. "Is this all you've got?"
The phantom chuckled. "That's good. Keep your fighting spirit until death."
"We have no death! We are immortal! We will never die!"
"To be the one to give you the first and final taste of death, I'll be honoured."
With a quick flick of his wrist, the card flew towards the demonic monstrosity. It flew through the tornado barrier, straight into the forehead of the monster. The card melted painfully into the demon's skin as they tried to rip it out but they only managed to harm themselves. They screamed silently in agony, their voice stolen by the wind.
A glowing blue coat of arms formed in front of the demon. The phantom stranger stared down without sympathy into the crimson slits as he raised his left hand slowly into the air. He snapped his fingers. At the snap of his fingers, the coat of arms disappeared and the tornado grew smaller and smaller, caging the demon. The papers grew sharper and the wind clawed back at them, drawing long blue lines on their body. The tornado continued to grow smaller, much to their horror. Soon the demon was enveloped by the wind and the paper, their screams left unheard.
As the wind and paper cleared away, the man in the trench coat watched in horror as the demon fell to pieces, neatly minced by the furious flurry of paper. Their bluish black blood was splattered on the ground. Then they dissipated into the darkness, leaving no trace of the demon.
The phantom stranger jumped down from his perch and walked towards the man in the trench coat. He shrank away with fear. The stranger knelt down, face-to-face with the man in the trench coat and held out a card.
"Here's my card."
The man reluctantly took it and he shuddered as he felt his eyes roll to back of his head. Then he dropped to the ground like a stone, out cold.