A/N: Talk about fire, smoke, guns, and blood. If you're uncomfortable with those subjects I suggest that you move on.
From the smoke of the ruined house, a single shadow appears, what looks like a cloak fluttering behind them. It looks like they're wearing the fire as armor rather than perishing in the flames. You pull out your gun and aim it at the figure fearfully. They were supposed to die. And yet, here they are walking out of the flames like it was nothing. It's terrifying.
But not as terrifying as their expression. As they emerge from the building, the fire latches onto their shoulder pads, licking at their hair, though never catching or burning the tangled mess. A smirk decorates their face and in each of their hands is a dagger, the fire dancing in the metal like a dangerous snake poised to strike.
"Fire," you order and you and your force start to pelt the person with bullets. Instead of falling though, they simply continue walking, unfazed by the relentless shower of bullets. When they reach the road, their grin grows and they lift their own weapons.
"Duck and cover," you yell, ordering your force behind their cars in hopes that you could prevent the slaughter of your team.
As the bullets from your enemy rain down, hitting those unfortunate enough to be in their path, you hear an evil laugh from the other side of your cruiser.
"You really thought you could kill me?"
VOUS LISEZ
Year of 365
AléatoireA mess of short stories, poems, and whatever else I feel like writing. I will be continuing this for one year and in June 2022 I'll end it.
