He should have let it go. A more humble man, certainly, would have. Yet, an unwelcome spark of interest had ignited within him, a dangerous curiosity he wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, extinguish.
The night itself was a heavy shroud, the sky an oppressive canvas of grey that swallowed the stars whole, promising an imminent downpour.
The air hung thick and humid, carrying the scent of impending rain.
His features, now covered with a mask from his unnatural ice after learning his first lesson with them.
It clung like a second skin, exhaling plumes of frigid vapor into the city's unseasonably warm air, a stark, visible contrast to the humid breath of the alleyways.
He arrived with the chilling precision of a predator, just as the shadowy figure were poised to siphon the very life essence from a cowering, terrified civilian.
Without a word, he unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp icy shrapnel that whistled through the oppressive air, tearing into one of their shoulders with a sickening crunch.
“I tend to keep my promises when I said I’d hunt you down..”
@frosted-hero
A necessary errand, is what he calls these occasions. In times of need, man does what man must do.
Night was the best time for these “errands”. Not so many people were out- so anything that would happen would go unnoticed until morning. Any screams hushed. Any sight blanketed by the dark of eventide.
The rain gave him a better advantage- he could almost feel it on its way, and had already noticed the murky grey clouds that sheltered the sky. The rain would wash away sound, sight.. would shield him from detection. Truly, the night was the best time for these “hunts” of his.
He loomed over the fool, who wandered around aimlessly so late, watching blood roll down its marred face. They froze in the face of harm, so how is he to blame for their poor self defense?
As soon as he began to reach for their skin, he felt something seem to punch his shoulder. He froze for a moment- feeling something shatter at the punch- akin to an ice pack… before feeling heat spread. Burning, like having hot iron press against your skin.
He pressed his hand against his shoulder, feeling warm ichor soak his hand. He turned- eyes glaring into the night.
“.. Couldn’t wait, huh?”
He hissed through gritted teeth, taking a moment with identifying the individual.. but he was able to put a name to the voice and that power.
How could he forget?
The other man was one that he spared.
