So I was going to write a one-shot for my friend's birthday tomorrow... Then I got inspired. It will probably only be one or two chapters more, but I felt this prologue should stand by itself... for effect. Enjoy!
Prologue
Lately, the night breathed. It was an unusual sensation: one that whispered of danger and tension in every shifting shadow in the passing light of a Satomobile. Takeshi felt it, imminently heavy and terrifying. And every night, it seemed to grow worse.
The man flicked off the lights to his store and shivered faintly at the darkness that enveloped him. Only faint streetlights and the flash of intermittent lightning broke it, but that unshakeable feeling and the roll of distant thunder was enough to keep him on edge. He unclasped the thin strip of cloth constricting his umbrella, and he cursed when it sprang open before he passed through the door. Muttering under his breath, he pushed it together with his tightly clenched fist and stepped over the threshold onto the empty sidewalk. He let go of the umbrella to let it open, and with a soft 'whoosh,' it spread around him and broke the rainfall in a shower of droplets around him.
Takeshi breathed a sigh he wished could be relieved. After all, it was the end of a long workday. But instead, his exhalations came shaky and anxious—and growing more so by the icy chill that crept up his spine. He reached into his pocket and procured a set of keys, which rattled with a metallic clatter as he fished for the correct one. His hand trembled slightly, though he attributed it to the cold air. Quickly, he shoved the key into the lock and clumsily turned it.
When he finished, he turned and gripped the handle to his umbrella tightly. He clasped the keys tightly to hide them as he stepped into the street. Silence surrounded him except for the patter of rain on asphalt and the thrumming of his heart in his ears. Takeshi could stand it no longer. The sound of his footfalls carried into the night: hard and quick and steady as he trotted down the street, kicking up curtains of water as his shoes struck puddles. He didn't stop running until he rounded the corner—then terror seized him in a stony grip.
As lightning flashed, the face of a brick wall lit up to reveal a large graffiti painting. A red circle: the hatred seething from it was nearly palpable. And it was made no less terrifying as the red ran down the walls, carried by the torrent. The character inscribed at its center, once reading 'peace,' now was an unreadable blur. Like a Rorschach test. Takeshi only saw corpses.
"Don't tell me you're scared." A smooth, feminine voice sounded from behind him—only inches away from his ear. "Lightning must be something you're intimately familiar with."
His eyes widened as he looked to his right shoulder. In the dark, the gloved hand tightly gripping it was illuminated by the glowing blue circle at its center.
"Unless it's that symbol…"
"Please." It was the only thing that came to mind. Takeshi could scarcely breathe, and when he sucked in the air, it came out again only in a whimper. "Please. I haven't seen that in— I… I just want to go home to my kids."
The woman behind him seemed to let out a contemplative sound. For a moment, his heart fluttered and swelled with hope.
"Well," she said after a moment, "it won't be the last time Equalists have been responsible for the loss of someone's father."
Takeshi opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Or so it seemed.
The scream was silenced behind a peal of thunder just as lightning whitened the night.