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marked by heaven and hell

Discussion in 'Pandora, Year 1 - 7' started by Simon Lewis, May 17, 2018.

  1. Simon Lewis

    Simon Lewis The Mortal Instruments
    crowley stresses me out

    Posts:
    1,290
    Gender:
    Male
    Race:
    Vampire
    Age:
    18 (20)

    MAY 26
    WEIGHTING DOWN
    his unbeating heart

    "So you've got two options. Come with us quietly and willingly, or ... we do this the hard way."

    Simon could practically feel his heart pounding in his chest as his hands went into the air, all innocence. The guys had surrounded him, practically herded him into an alley to corner him like some sort of caged animal. At first, he'd thought they didn't have any idea what they were dealing with, but then the term vampire came up. They did know. They did know, and this was some sort of 'vampire' thing. But they still didn't know. Judging by the bats they were toting and the gun one of them had at his side, his hand lingering by it, they had no idea what they were dealing with.

    "Guys, maybe we can just talk about this ... and about the fact that I would-- I would strongly advice swinging that thing at me. Or shooting me, or literally anything--" They weren't listening. They were thugs who saw a scrawny vampire who probably looked a little bit out of his element like he always did, they weren't smirking, laughing, exchanging glances like this was all some big joke.

    There was the why, of course. Why they wanted anything to do with him, but Simon found himself a little bit too focused on trying not to let the bomb on his forehead go off.

    They weren't helping. They definitely weren't helping when one of them grew impatient and stalked toward him, lifting the bat in his hand and taking a swing despite Simon's wide eyes and obvious protest. The vampire's knees buckled and he bent at the waist, twisting away from the blew as he threw his arms into the air. The bat never touched him, though, as the blue of the mark on his forehead suddenly announced its presence, energy bursting forth from around him like some sort of forcefield and slamming right into the thug who wailed as he was sent flying off of his feet, back slamming into the wall.

    For a moment, there was silence as they all stared wide-eyed at the sight, the only sound Simon's quiet apologies and something about having warned them. To be honest, there was so much going on in his head then that he wasn't completely sure what was coming out of his mouth.

    "What the fuck did you do?!" the ringleader spat, tearing the gun from his waistband and pointing it directly at him. One gunshot, and it happened again, but it was worse. Or maybe it was just different. Simon didn't know which, but all he knew was that the bullet didn't touch him. It didn't even get near him before the mark was propelling it violently back into the other guy, bursting into smaller bullets and littering his stomach with wounds.

    And blood. There was blood. And shouting, and so much blood.

    "I'm-- I'm sorry, I-- I--" They'd come at him. They'd come at him and Simon still hated what he was seeing, hated knowing what the thing on his forehead could do. Hated hurting people at all. The third guy was staring at him by then, looking like he didn't know what to do until he didn't see any option that wasn't just turning tail and running. So he did that and Simon dragged himself backward one step and then another.

    In a blur, he was gone, leaving the scene behind. But not without leaving a tip for the hospital.

    THE END



     
    Raphael Santiago likes this.