"There is a face beneath this mask, but it's not me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it, or the bones beneath them." - Vendetta
{{{{{-=+=-}}}}}
The Devil's in the Details
/
The night was still and silent.
Almost all nights were.
The Devil tilts his head to the side, unseeing, and yet, always watching.
There is fear in this city.
He could feel it running through the veins in the streets,
Hear it inhale and exhale in the cold night.
Yet he was unbound by this fear.
/
His shadow is of the darkest charcoal
as he leaps across the skyline.
The moment he arrives, he meets fire for fire.
All he can hear are the sobs of the woman behind him
And the scuffle of shoes on wet pavement
And the pounding of the other man's heartbeat
And the swing of the switchblade
But they are enough in his eyes.
/
He flows like ink through each strike,
And quickly the attacker subsides,
each of his blows becoming sluggish and weak.
A sharp clatter echoes in the alley
As the blade is tossed to the side in a silver arc.
His fists are a rhythmic beating on the man's face.
/
When he stands, towering above the fear and hate
All the rage flowing in his veins
Is suddenly gone.
/
And as he leaves the alleyway;
Hears the sirens approaching,
Hears the woman gasping in relief and pain –
He feels the blood on his hands, and the Devil, flowing red in his heart
To the very
Last
Drop.