Some nice descriptive violence and magic for you now! You've been warned
Disclaimer: Don't own of course
Chapter five
He hits the hard pavement without a sound, he runs through the streets under the full moon and spreads his arms out wide, he draws in deep breaths as he runs, he mutters a few words, foreign words but words of power and magic. Black material seeps through his fingertips and wraps itself around his body, it covers his hair and face in a hood then ties itself round his neck and billows outwards as he runs. He lets his arms drop and presses on, forever running not knowing where he is going.
He dashes down side streets and jumps obstacles with great power; he turns down into an alley and stumbles to the ground hitting the stony floor with a clear sharp scrape. He grits his teeth and slams his fists down onto the pavement as he hears snarled laughter, footsteps approach him from behind as a gang of youths dressed mainly in black surround him. He crawls to his skin-less knees then stands slowly; his fists tightened threateningly, his hood remains up covering his features from the yobs.
"Look boys, still in his jim-jams!" One of the boys shouts causing a riot of laughter, they poke fun at him, spit at his feet, kick stones and gravel at him but he remains silent and still, almost calm.
"What's the matter? Scared?" Another taunts as he throws a half empty can of beer at the floor splashing foul booze all up Vince's legs.
One boy approaches him, the leader or so Vince assumes, and stares him hard in the face. Vince only stares back but his eyes can't be seen, the youth whips down his hood to reveal his face, he doesn't flinch and hardly blinks.
"Who's a pretty boy then?" He sneers into Vince's face who's teeth clench together, his face a look of pure anger ready and waiting to burst. He feels something strange within, something that wants to erupt and unleash its power upon the boys surrounding him. The boy in front of him reaches for Vince's hair but is stopped with a quick snap of the mod's arm; he clamps his hand around the boy's wrist and smiles wickedly. The boy stares at him in shock then begins screaming in pain, his friends look at each other as their leader drops to his knees, steam fizzing from his arm where Vince's hand clings on. When he let's go there is no skin left, only burning muscle and a hint of bone, blood sizzles to the floor but evaporates before it can stain the ground. The gang stares at their friend then turn to run but Vince is too fast for them, he snaps his hands up and flicks his fingers causing the boys to fly backwards towards him, he directs his hands at a wall sending them crashing to the bricks.
He approaches them, his bare feet crunch against the small stones and gravel, the boys that are still conscious quiver and tremble under his gaze. Then he stops and stares at them, deciding which to deal with first.
After a quick glance left and right to check the alley is clear of witnesses he brings his hands together, closes his eyes and bows his head. His palms glow a fiery orange colour, heat radiates from his fists making the skin blister on the youth's faces, he thrusts his hands forward suddenly still with his eyes shut sending screams flying into the air.
"Shhh." He silences the screams with a quick spell, light flickers behind his closed eyelids, burning flesh fills the alley. He blows air out through his mouth and the smell disappears masking the murders, he lowers his hands and thinks of ice. His hands turn blue then return to their natural skin shade, he opens his eyes to a pile of rotting corpses, the skulls were still partly covered with flesh or muscle, eyes were melted in sockets and clothes were completely burnt to a crisp. He sniffs loudly in disgust then shuts his eyes, imagines nothing then opens them again. The alley is completely deserted with no trace or hint that he or any young boys had ever been there.
He turns causing the cloak to whip round, quickly he leaves feeling dizzy and disorientated; he breaks into a run and continues round the corner leaving the alley behind.
He passes houses bathed in darkness, the odd bedroom window still with a light on, dogs howl in distant neighbourhoods, he approaches the shop staggering, his feet tripping over one another, his lungs now catching up on him making him breathless, his heart pounds in his chest beating out a rhythm against his ribs, he heads for the door to the flat but collapses onto his knees with a bone shuddering crunch, the cloak melts away into the ground, his vision blurs and he crumples onto the pavement banging his head on the door.