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To Destiny; Exposition redux
Topic Started: Jul 14 2013, 12:27 AM (405 Views)
Mister Karma
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I have no set sleep schedule.
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((yeah...it's high time I fix this shit up from the FD days, the real introduction!))

The far north was a cold and desolate section of the continent. It didn't help the fact that it was winter time still, with the trees bare and naked like cold, hard truth told to a stubborn bully, and at only 2:30 in the afternoon, the sunlight glowed a bright pink as it quickly set to the rolling western horizon.

In the distance, a young demon man walked seemingly tirelessly, an old rusty katana strapped to his back and a custom Uzi by his side that had never seen use. Not yet, at least. No one would have suspected it but he was a wolf demon, lacking only a tail and not by any stealthy means. He was born without one. To blend in even more with the human surroundings, he always stuck to typical everyday human attire, a fresh and slightly torn up navy blue Alien Workshop hoody and torn up dark blue jeans, suggesting he had trudged through countless forests and numerous thorn bushes. Blown out black boots from days of wandering were tied lazily to his feet; he did not feel the need to bend down and tie them back up.

Revenge and constant searching were his number one priority, after all.

Gold eyes scanned the landscape that spread out before him. Rolling green hills and then a sudden drop to what appeared to be a valley housing ruins of what used to be a city, with smoke billowing from tumbled skyscrapers and dying embers scattered about. The city looked like it had recently been ravaged. Beyond that, a sparkling, if thawing, lake sprawled beautifully, detracting from the desolation that was once a city. That sparkle would soon be gone if the young demon had not hurried his walking.

Looks like her work, alright.

Scratching at his face with a gloved hand, the young demon hurried his purposeful walk towards the smoldering ruins, picking up his pace into a light jog. He jogged over the rolling knolls and slid down the steep drop one foot in front of the other, his shoulder length dark blue hair billowing behind him, his feet kicking up stiff clouds of dust. At least in this cold, the dirt was still healthy looking.

The demon combat rolled through a thicket of bushes, further tearing up his favorite sweater and jeans before cutting through a small section of forest yet again. A few minutes later, his eyes caught a much closer glimpse of the city. Cars were overturned, smashed flat and glass was strewn everywhere as if an angry giant toddler got sick of his thousand-dollar toys and decided to play Break Stuff. Buildings that were once businesses of all kinds were now empty shells with just smashed up windows and blown in doors. Scattered everywhere were piles of burning dead bodies, having appeared to be killed just mere hours before his arrival. The demon inspected the scenery in front of him, nodding after gathering all the visual information he needed.

"Definitely their work," he thought aloud in a gruff, deep and slightly scratchy sounding voice. A pondering voice, anyway.
His legs ached, though. How long had he been walking for? A week, maybe two? His car was in the shop back home in New Haven, getting a new engine installed as well as a completely new fuel system fitted in. He could have easily taken a bus up here, making it in hours flat to stop the Organization from performing such a horrendous deed to a defenseless city. But public transport would not allow his weapons, and he was in no mood to shove Gravedigger up his own ass to hide it. That would have made for one uncomfortable walk. Yes, walking to this location just beyond the border of Canada seemed the most sensible. He would hunt in his wolf form to catch his prey more easily, and he would camp in his human form to keep everything organized and convenient, and to train.

He still remembered the cryptic note the old man left him, if it was the old man. It read, "You will find everything you need to know about that night, in the far north." The note appeared to have been written in someone's blood, giving the young man chills when he had read it in his apartment. Yet here he was, in the far north, and still nothing except a destroyed city similar to what happened that night when he was a child.
The demon's stern and serious face suddenly fell solemn, his gold eyes to the ground, as memories began to surface like a movie. A white wolf laughing maniacally, his mother propped up dying against a tree, he could have sworn she was bleeding out. His lover screaming for him to help, if one could call young adolescent infatuation "love." He closed his eyes slowly and tightly, shaking the pictures out of his head with a silent growl, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a portable music player, his earphones wrapped neatly around it.
"Need something hard," he told himself as he unraveled the black wires and stuck each earbud into his pointed human-like ears. Activating the player, the demon picked out a classic rock song, "Back in Black" by none other than AC/DC, before picking out a spot by a pancaked Honda Civic to sit near and simply jam. He didn't care if anyone in the world could hear the music silently coming out of the earbuds. He needed to feel a little better, and there was no Corona in sight.

Music had to do.
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