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Title: Darkness Walks
Chapter: Prelude
Author: Tyrror
Rating: FRT
Summary: A mysterious figure seems to have put a quick end to a night of terror...or has he?
A/N: This was a random snippet that ran through my head late at night and which I had intended to be a stand alone piece but, the more I think about it, the more it seems like I could really flesh the story out some. Who knows, keep your eyes open and you may see more of the same.

“Are you aware of who I am?” the man said in a surprisingly deep voice given the lithe look of his body; brushing a few stray strands of hair off the face of the unconscious girl he had just set against the wall before standing to face the other boy.

The boy was no more than a child, a tiny thing with a mop of unruly brown hair and deepset eyes that screamed 'someone please pay attention to me'. He looked like he was fifteen, give or take, and the man took no pleasure in his business here tonight; his tall, thin frame towering over the boy in the dim lighting, his floor length coat the color of wet ash and making his shadow look like a creature from all of the darkest novels and scariest of films which, of course...he was.

“No!” the boy retorted in a voice filled with anger, rage almost, “and I don't care!” His fists tightened in an almost audible manner although, in reality, the only noise was that of the fluorescent bulbs lighting the dingy underground walkway, dripping with wet and smelling faintly of mildew and rot. The mans face hardened, watching and knowing what would happen next without any hope to stop it; thinking for the thousandth time how perhaps, if he left quickly, everything could just go right for once, though that is never how it worked. With all the grace and swiftness of a dead pigeon, the boy swung a small fist, landing solely in the older man's palm, right where he knew the boy would swing, right where he had placed his hand but moments before the strike.

The older man's grip was strong for how thin his arms seemed, so frail and almost...dainty. Pale skin gleamed just beyond the cuff of the dark coat, but the boy had only a moment to ponder the man's, no, the intruder's looks before he was pulled close, hot breath brushing past his ear as the older one spoke.

“Then I am truly sorry for what you have done...”

The words hung in the air like the moisture wouldn't let them fall, but the man left them there, straightening himself and taking a final look at the limp frame behind him before walking around the boy and into the silent grime of the tunnel, his shoes clacking ever so slightly with each step. Above him, for just a moment, the hum of the lights died and there was pure darkness; no windows, no glows, no grey in the black, just the dark...and then he was gone. Behind him, the boy stood silent for a moment and then, in a voice only the lost may know, he screamed...

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December 2012

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