Chapter 2: Alley Night.
Treading through the lonely and unforgiving streets of the big apple are many people of many nationalities, races, creed and background. However one man walks alone not caring about these things. He has no background or race to call his own. A genetic copy of an oriental assassin for some company that he never gave a shit about. He realized a while ago after meeting the one used to construct him that even if he was a clone, he was still himself. He was a clone, he was Zoanthrope, he was a killer and even a bit of a drunkard; His name was Shenlong. The sound of the metropolitan life was what he enjoyed more than anything, except maybe a few beers with a good friend once in a while. Despite the loving of the noises made in the urban environment he loathed some of the people there. The scum that infested the bottom and the top rums of this social hierarchy, even if that's what they didn't want to call it, the world was that. And conveniently enough their was some of the parasites of society following him, no doubt thinking he was an easy target because of the way he dressed and carried himself. Such slime, such a waste of space, they would all feel his wraith in a second. Shenlong turned off the brightly lit main street into an alley knowing the pursuers would follow. They wanted money and a good time, Shenlong was interested in the latter himself. He hoped this gang would please him for a few seconds of an otherwise lackluster day.
"Hey, fag, mind showing us a good time?" A gruff voice of a gangster asked. Shenlong turned to view this villain that was accompanied by several others. The bullies always traveled in packs and it was a typical one as well; a large guy white male, two black muscular figures and the leader who was slim and still had face was not scarred like that of companions. 'I'll fix that.' thought Shenlong who still had his hands inside the pockets of the purple skin-tight pants he was wearing.
"A good time, in what sort of way?" Shenlong asked coyly as if he was oblivious to the intended meaning.
"Strip, now, you rich queer." One of the blacks commanded with an overbearing tone. He would need to be put in his place promptly.
"Sorry, I'm not that kind of guy. You want to get your jollies off to men stripping there is a..."
"Shut up and get nude, you...!" The words faded away after that into more cursing but Shenlong didn't hear a word. He was now focused on muscle man of the gang; he was removing a long barbed chain from around his waist. As stereotypical as one could get, he was the brawn and didn't like the talking so he was going to use his weapon. After the curses were done the leader gave a command proudly to the big fellow. The dirty, metal whistled through the air with great speed but only a single barb scratched Shenlong's check. With crimson running down the side of his face the Zoanthrope remained still and unwavering.
"I think you scared the fag stiff, big guy!" The leader chuckled at his assumed success. Advancing further into the dark ally the leader pulled out a weapon. Hearing the swift spring launch followed by a soft metal clank Shenlong knew it was a knife. "I'm going to mess you up good, pretty boy-" The only light that allowed eyes to view anything further down the alley flickered dimming the gang leader and the Zoanthrope from the others. The light flickered again revealing the results of a few moments of darkness. In Shenlong's right was the leader, dead and limp held by his red hair. His left was coated with the salty, red liquid that the leader once needed to live along with the knife.
"Crazy little...!" One black man's voice was silenced with a flick of Shenlong's left wrist leaving the blade of a knife in the man's throat. Two down far too easily, it was depressing to be honest. The brawn and the other black cursed at him but his animalistic instinct was already in full flair. The black drew a small handgun from under his coat and fired off one shot, there would have been more that was all he got a chance to do. Shenlong tossed the corpse with effortless ease into the bullet's trajectory as he rushed forward, half crouched, at gunmen. The left hand grabbed the wrist holding the gun and squeezed it to pulp, the right hand pierced through gangster's abdomen like a hot knife through warm butter. The barbed chain was whipped down at Shenlong but instead met with the back of his fellow partner in crimson that was dying. The Zoanthrope discarded the dying gunmen for a moment to focus on the big guy.
"Hey, muscle-head, ready?" Shenlong asked as he ran the big man's body, slamming his feet so hard into the human's frame that the indentions of his shoe were left. Upon reaching overhead his foe Shenlong came down with a triple stomping maneuver called "Shadowless Kick" that crushed the muscle man's vertebrate and skull within the three hits that connected. Shenlong grabbed the barbed chain with his grasp, drawing his own blood from holding it to tightly. Without looking or any indication of knowing the Zoanthrope whipped the barbed chain through the air causing it to wrap tightly around the bleeding black gangster who was trying to escape. A sharp tug and a growl later the final gangster was dead and was calm within the alley with exception of a near inaudible whisper that last man standing had muttered. "Die..."
He took his leave from the alley of darkness and blood towards his apartment to wash away the smell of dead from his clothes and body then rest in tonight. Today was indeed a boring hopefully things would be better.
Treading through the lonely and unforgiving streets of the big apple are many people of many nationalities, races, creed and background. However one man walks alone not caring about these things. He has no background or race to call his own. A genetic copy of an oriental assassin for some company that he never gave a shit about. He realized a while ago after meeting the one used to construct him that even if he was a clone, he was still himself. He was a clone, he was Zoanthrope, he was a killer and even a bit of a drunkard; His name was Shenlong. The sound of the metropolitan life was what he enjoyed more than anything, except maybe a few beers with a good friend once in a while. Despite the loving of the noises made in the urban environment he loathed some of the people there. The scum that infested the bottom and the top rums of this social hierarchy, even if that's what they didn't want to call it, the world was that. And conveniently enough their was some of the parasites of society following him, no doubt thinking he was an easy target because of the way he dressed and carried himself. Such slime, such a waste of space, they would all feel his wraith in a second. Shenlong turned off the brightly lit main street into an alley knowing the pursuers would follow. They wanted money and a good time, Shenlong was interested in the latter himself. He hoped this gang would please him for a few seconds of an otherwise lackluster day.
"Hey, fag, mind showing us a good time?" A gruff voice of a gangster asked. Shenlong turned to view this villain that was accompanied by several others. The bullies always traveled in packs and it was a typical one as well; a large guy white male, two black muscular figures and the leader who was slim and still had face was not scarred like that of companions. 'I'll fix that.' thought Shenlong who still had his hands inside the pockets of the purple skin-tight pants he was wearing.
"A good time, in what sort of way?" Shenlong asked coyly as if he was oblivious to the intended meaning.
"Strip, now, you rich queer." One of the blacks commanded with an overbearing tone. He would need to be put in his place promptly.
"Sorry, I'm not that kind of guy. You want to get your jollies off to men stripping there is a..."
"Shut up and get nude, you...!" The words faded away after that into more cursing but Shenlong didn't hear a word. He was now focused on muscle man of the gang; he was removing a long barbed chain from around his waist. As stereotypical as one could get, he was the brawn and didn't like the talking so he was going to use his weapon. After the curses were done the leader gave a command proudly to the big fellow. The dirty, metal whistled through the air with great speed but only a single barb scratched Shenlong's check. With crimson running down the side of his face the Zoanthrope remained still and unwavering.
"I think you scared the fag stiff, big guy!" The leader chuckled at his assumed success. Advancing further into the dark ally the leader pulled out a weapon. Hearing the swift spring launch followed by a soft metal clank Shenlong knew it was a knife. "I'm going to mess you up good, pretty boy-" The only light that allowed eyes to view anything further down the alley flickered dimming the gang leader and the Zoanthrope from the others. The light flickered again revealing the results of a few moments of darkness. In Shenlong's right was the leader, dead and limp held by his red hair. His left was coated with the salty, red liquid that the leader once needed to live along with the knife.
"Crazy little...!" One black man's voice was silenced with a flick of Shenlong's left wrist leaving the blade of a knife in the man's throat. Two down far too easily, it was depressing to be honest. The brawn and the other black cursed at him but his animalistic instinct was already in full flair. The black drew a small handgun from under his coat and fired off one shot, there would have been more that was all he got a chance to do. Shenlong tossed the corpse with effortless ease into the bullet's trajectory as he rushed forward, half crouched, at gunmen. The left hand grabbed the wrist holding the gun and squeezed it to pulp, the right hand pierced through gangster's abdomen like a hot knife through warm butter. The barbed chain was whipped down at Shenlong but instead met with the back of his fellow partner in crimson that was dying. The Zoanthrope discarded the dying gunmen for a moment to focus on the big guy.
"Hey, muscle-head, ready?" Shenlong asked as he ran the big man's body, slamming his feet so hard into the human's frame that the indentions of his shoe were left. Upon reaching overhead his foe Shenlong came down with a triple stomping maneuver called "Shadowless Kick" that crushed the muscle man's vertebrate and skull within the three hits that connected. Shenlong grabbed the barbed chain with his grasp, drawing his own blood from holding it to tightly. Without looking or any indication of knowing the Zoanthrope whipped the barbed chain through the air causing it to wrap tightly around the bleeding black gangster who was trying to escape. A sharp tug and a growl later the final gangster was dead and was calm within the alley with exception of a near inaudible whisper that last man standing had muttered. "Die..."
He took his leave from the alley of darkness and blood towards his apartment to wash away the smell of dead from his clothes and body then rest in tonight. Today was indeed a boring hopefully things would be better.
