....Half of his body glows in the sunlight, that was being covered with dark black clouds ever so slowly, the other half still hiding beneath the shadows. A small drop of water places itself onto His forehead, followed by its brothers and sisters. This once calm Monday morning, now raging with the weight of the clouds. The rain stings his wounds at first, but the pain quickly subsides. His left eye is now bruised and swollen. It can no longer open. If he moves his eye, a stream of blood squirts from its tear gland, landing on the vest that was just stolen from the corpse of the punk, whom he just slaughtered.
The rain, now pouring, drips from his ears, onto the sholders of the black vest, around the hole which was made from the bone, and down to the ground. The rain washes the blood free of its captive state, on its leather prison, and leaves it free to fall to the ground with its savior.
He takes his first step out on to the street. A woman almost rams directly into him. She carries a breifcase. He figures she is a business woman, late for work. The street is almost empty, not many people walking. Its still early, or so says the clock at the top of the bank across the street. 9:00 a.m. to be exact. The Man notices a woman, across the street, carrying an umbrella who looks oddly familiar. Its for this reason that he becomes obssessed with meeting this woman. She stands about 5'10, with dark brown hair, which ends about shoulder length. She wears a black treanch coat, tied so he couldn't see the clothing she was wearing. All he could see was her high heels that looked like they've never been worn. Then are brown velvet. Something about those shoes. He walks towards the street, passing chewed, dried gum, thats been frozen to the ground, which the rain is moistening. He passes over the cracks in the sidewalk. He passes a dead pigeon, that has had its head crushed. The pigeon looks like its been stepped on a couple of times, probably by incociderate people who have no respect for the dead, or the living. For everything dies, and if you lose respect for something after its time, you had no respect to begin with. He steps into the street, ignoring the on comeing traffic. He is so fixed on meeting this woman that he is beyond obssessed. But something makes him look to his right. He turns to see a very large man, about 250-300 pounds, coming at him on a motorcycle. The biker swerves to avoid killing the Man. The biker skids out and crashes, sending him and the bike flying across the street, into the curb which only stops the biker. The motorcycle goes flying into a diner window, landing on a table of two. A man and a woman, or thats what they used to be. They now lay bleeding and crushed under the steel stalion. The mans head severed and stuck on the leg of a chair. The womans body stuck with glass, and her stomach is crushed. Her fluids splatter across the room. A patron snaps to reality and lets out a shriek of horror.
The biker stands raging with fury. The Man just stands there, and looks on at the horrific scene that has just unfolded before him. Not an eye blinks as the biker makes his way towards the Man. All cars as well as pedestrians are still, every one watches. " What the Fuck are you doing, you Goddamned Dickhead?!?!?!" yelled the biker, who has a little Jack Daniels on his breath. He stands nose to nose with the Man. "You stupid Cocksucker, I'll kill you!" With that the man grabs the biker by his Harley shirt with both hands, and throws him straight up in the air 200 feet. Nothing but fear runs through out the bikers body as he reaches his aerial peak. He starts toward the ground, at first slow, but then gravity kicks in. His feet to his ass, the man lands directly on his knees. His legs shatter completely instantly. The spectators watch in horror, their mouths ajar. All is quiet except the biker, and some playfull cooing of the pigeons. The Man walks up to the biker, who is now begging fo him to come no closer, but the Man progesses. He stands over the biker, looking down at him with a cold empty stare. His legs no longer resmble legs, but they look like mashed potatos fresh from the stove.
"Shithead MotherFucker!" is all the biker could squeeze from his over used lungs. It was the last words hed ever speak. The man bends over, takes the biker by his red greasy hair, and tears his head off slowly. First the skin tears, which lets the first wave of blood go. Then goes the veins and muscles. The insides of his neck snap apart. The blood, spewing from his, or what used to be his neck, is now pouring all over the wet, oil stained road. The Man tosses the head aside on to the windsheild of a nearby taxi. The blood leaks down the hood onto the engine. The engine still hot from use, boils the blood and fills the cab with the sweet smell of honeysuckle. The cabby lets out a scream, opens the door, jumps out, and takes off down the street. The man looks at the bloody mess and notices a nice pair of black leather boots, laying in the pile of mush that was at one time legs. They look brand new, except for the blood and skin dripping off them. He bends over, picks up the boot, and pours the remnats of the feet out. The boots have 8 inch hightops, and golden buckles that must of been added because the lace holes are still there. After he he finishes pouring the "feet" out of the boots, he puts them on. There a bit small but they'll do. He gets up, and looks around. He sees that the people are starting to scatter. The faint sound of police sirens can be heard in the, panic filled street. The police turn the corner, and with that the Man runs back down the alley. He runs into one of the bums, who was pissing into a coffe can. The Man throws him out of the way and continues running. He reaches a fence thats about ten feet high. He starts to climb, and when he finally gets over, he hears, "Freeze Asshole!". He jumps from the fence and startsto run down the other side of the alley. A shot is fired and sparks fly as it hits the fence. The Man disapears into the shadows...