Maltese Strangers (Sauron, closed, MATURE)

[Adrian Phoenix]

Hadn't slept for weeks. Not that he needed to, but he didn't even bother pretending anymore. No, he lived for the case, every waking moment spent contemplating it, twisting each piece of evidence, re-examining everything for something that he'd missed, trying to find another small hint of who the killer was. For months, this monster had terrorized New York, slaughtering families, torturing his victims before killing them with whatever power it was he used to simply drain the life out of them. What few witness statements he had pointed toward a male, but Adrian refused to call this thing human. Anybody who could do things like this didn't deserve to be numbered as a human being. This... this thing, it was subhuman, a disgusting, sickly parasite.

Tonight, he finally solved it. It was so simple, so obvious to anybody who knew it. The killer was good, knew what he was doing. But they always made a mistake sooner or later. This one had slipped up, just like they all did. His mistakes had been subtle, but Adrian had found them. Then it was just a matter of connecting the dots and following the lines.

The immortal glanced out the window of his car, watching the pouring rain pound softly against the windshield as he lit another cigarette, taking a slow drag, letting it calm his nerves for that split second it took his body to purge the poison. This was the place, he was sure of it. A rundown, cracked brick apartment building haunching in the darkness of the night, just like a hundred other decrepit houses in District X. Except this one housed New York's most wanted killer. This... this was where all the trails converged, the end of all the lines. He had the bastard now, had him good. Adrian didn't know what the man looked like, but he knew his heart, and that was better then any photograph. One murderer always knew another, and Adrian knew his past held more then it's fair share of death. It was as if his inability to know death made him seek it out, one way or another. He sought the killers, but once he had made the victims. He knew this man, because he'd been him. Once, the monster in the alley had been him, granting others the one thing he would never have, in his madness convinced that their deaths would give him life.

Even now, he could remember the twisted logic of that insanity, the frantic, paranoid delusions that drove his mirror self.

Luckily, his dark train of though was interrupted by the emergence of what might best be described as a 'killer fox' from the doorway of the building. A stunning blond, dressed in red, the kind of woman that they didn't make anymore. The very epitome of dark, sensual beauty. Just watching her hinted at lost memories, and Adrian could feel them, swimming just out of reach. No matter how hard he tried to recall, they seemed to remain there, taunting him, teasing him with glimpses, fractured images of his past.

He watched as the woman grabbed a newspaper to shield herself from the torrent of rain, quickening her pace as she vanished down an alley. That's when Adrian saw him.

A man. Thin, almost gaunt, with hollowed features and a presence that could not be mistaken, quickly emerging from the doorway. Taking another drag of his cigarette, it's glow illuminating the dark interior of the car, his eyes reflecting on the rain stained windshield as the man vanished down the alley in pursuit of his new prey. And Adrian Knew him. This was his killer. There was no mistaking him. Adrian's hand reached for the gun resting on the passenger seat, hovering a split second above his .45. Could he really do this, hunt a man on a hunch, without any sanction from the law he claimed to serve?

Then he remembered the victims, the marks of torture on their bodies. The children now without their parents, the families who'd lost their daughters to a man with no conscience and no compassion. This man had not only killed his victims, but he'd wounded the hearts of countless others. He had shown no mercy, given no quarter, and he would get none in return.

Adrian knew this man to be guilty, and now it was time for him to face his judgement. If justice wasn't found in court, where money and influence could buy you innocence, Adrian would be the judge, delivering judgment from the barrel of a .45. Because while Adrian served the law, it was not his first allegiance. He'd sworn to protect the people, even if the law stood in his way. Adrian couldn't let bureaucracy stop him from taking this man in, just like he wouldn't let it stop this man from getting his just punishment. By the time he presented the evidence, this man would have already claimed another victim.

As he closed the door, only the dieing embers of his cigarette remained.

[Karl Lykos]

If you could ask him why he killed, he probably couldn’t have given you an answer. He killed like others breathed, slept, or ate. He hadn’t slept in weeks, months maybe…he didn’t need to anymore. And with every death, every life that he took away, the screaming in his head grew quieter, and the deep, itching pull he felt somewhere in his chest faded…at least for a while. He killed because he was a predator. That was what he was alive to do. And those around him were just prey.

For the being that called itself Sauron, the lives of others, be they human or mutant, amounted to little more than animals, and even that difference was only because human and mutant lives were simply more pleasurable for him to take. If he had though through his reasoning, he would say that his killing humans was no worse than humans killing cows for their hamburgers or stakes or killing turkeys for their holidays. That is…if he had thought through his reasoning. He didn’t, of course, because he saw no reason to. He didn’t have to explain his actions to the prey that surrounded him, and as far as he knew, he was the sole exception, the apex predator and one of a kind.

Sure, Sauron had met killers during his hunts. Or rather, those that had styled themselves as killers…before they had met him. They had fallen, of course, like the rest of them. Some of the mutants he stalked had put up difficult fights, but in the end, none of them really stood a chance. Of course, Sauron knew to pick his battles. Here and there glowed auras even he was wary of. But like a tiger avoiding the obvious rampaging elephants, he gave them little thought, merely stayed out of their way. It wasn’t that they were superior to him, he just picked the prey that would give maximum return for his efforts.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t like a little sport now and again, however. Sauron had been stalking his current target for a while now, a mutant girl, and a selfless civil worker. She had the remarkable ability to endow others with a small healing factor. True, the healing factor wore off quickly, but it was enough to cure most illnesses and injuries, and as such she had been a godsend to the impoverished, and severely damaged District X.

And she was beautiful. Thinking of her, it was all Sauron could do to keep himself from licking his lips in anticipation. There was nothing more thrilling than watching the eyes of a beautiful creature like her fill up with fear, watch them slowly turn to glass as he stole her life, before tossing her to the ground, letting her crumple like a broken toy, a spent vessel used for his pleasure, and then discarded. Sauron’s breathing grew heavier just thinking about it. Patience, he told himself, patience.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the foolish weakling named Karl screamed and shouted.

Sauron ignored him. His disgusting counterpart was always loudest when Sauron took Karl’s form. In his own true form, beautiful in its power and peerless in its perfect danger, Sauron couldn’t hear Karl anymore…not that it mattered if he did or not. Giving his head a slight shake, he tried not to think of the man who shared his mind…doing so still caused him to seethe with rage, and right now, he needed calm. Later, when he had his latest quarry in his grasp…then he could release his rage. For now, calm was what was required, and taking a deep breath, Sauron stuffed clenched his pitiful pink hands, the nails, though long and dirty from neglect, were still pale imitations of the talons that sprouted from his true form.

A faint misting of rain began falling from the sky, and Sauron drew his attention back to his surroundings. He was leaning against an old, dilapidated building in District X, a shambled heap of red bricks that would have been condemned years ago if it had been in any other part of the city. As it was, the old building had four families as tenants, including the family of his prey, and Sauron could feel their auras above him, glowing softly.

He’d gotten better at searching out single auras. He found that it was less a matter of looking for the one aura, and more a matter of ignoring all auras but the one he wanted. As he began to do so now, the extraneous glow from the living creatures all around him began to fade from his mind. And then there was one left. Alive, vibrant, and not small, either. Staring down at the newspaper that was his disguise, he willed himself not to look up as he felt her approach, her aura burning in his mind.

He almost quivered from having to restrain himself, and finally looked up as she stopped next to him, grabbing one of the newspapers to use as a makeshift cover from the rain. Standing at this close range, Sauron couldn’t help admiring her form. The wetness from the rain pulled her already revealing red dress close, causing it to hug her form, and involuntarily, Sauron felt his human body respond, its pulse quickening with lust as it looked over her curves.

Sauron himself had no interest in breeding with the lesser beings around him; he’d as soon mate with a cow as with one of the creatures he viewed as prey. But he knew Karl was interested, as he had suddenly gone silent, and Sauron enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that flowed through his body anyways. Once again, the image of her perfect form, lying crumpled and broken at his feet flashed before his eyes, and again he had to control himself from reaching out to her now. No. He would wait until she went into the alley.

He had watched her for several days now, and knew her routine. She was coming back from work, to bring her family the much needed money for groceries. It would be a quick trip, as she left almost as soon as she arrived, this time going down to the soup kitchens where she volunteered. She began walking again, towards the alley that would take her back and behind the building, to where the only non-boarded up entrance to her building lay. But this time, Sauron pushed himself off the wall, and, at a casual pace that nonetheless allowed him to keep her in sight, he began to follow her.

Images flashed through his head as he thought what he’d do with her. Perhaps he’d kill the families in the building first, letting her watch, helpless, either trapped by his gaze or his strength. He’d make her watch her world crumble to ash around her, let her struggle, helplessly but unharmed…

And then? More images flashed in his brain, faster and faster, each a snapshot formed from his diseased mind. Blood, lacerations and her sobbing face, each outlined in stark detail against the blackness of a darkened room. She had made it to the alley now and Sauron, with a cursory glance around to make sure he wasn’t being followed, ducked into the alley after her.

She didn’t notice him until she was almost at her door. It was amazing how absorbed his pitiful prey got in their daily routines, completely oblivious as to what was happening around them. He’d had times where they hadn’t noticed literally until the moment he grabbed them. She was somewhat more observant, but not much. She had been fiddling in her purse for her keys when she suddenly stopped, and looked back down the alley.

Seeing Sauron moving towards her, she froze, and Sauron felt a rush of fierce pleasure as he saw her pupils dilate in fear as her instinct rooted her to the spot, only for an instant. That instant was all Sauron needed as he grabbed her by the throat, and forced her hard against the wall, pressing his body against hers, relishing in her softness, his piercing blue eyes locked onto her gentle, but shocked brown ones as she gasped for air, and for words.

She struggled, as did they all, but in the end, there was no competition. Slowly, her body went limp as she succumbed to his will, and Sauron again felt the rush of adrenaline as she surrendered completely to his power. He felt her mind struggling as feebly against his iron will as her physical body had struggled against his grasp. Slowly, he brought his face close to her, stopping a mere half inch away, inhaling deeply her smell, a mix of cinnamon and fear, as he ran his lips along the side of her neck, down to her exposed shoulder, savoring her softness, draining away just a sliver of her life, feeling another pulse of excitement as she gasped involuntarily as a tiny fraction of her very life was pulled away.

“And now…” Sauron said, his voice low, breathy, barely under control, “Why don’t we go visit the family?” Inside his mind, he felt her panic as she realized what he meant, and her hopelessness as she realized she could do nothing, causing his lips to curl upwards in a sinister smile, a baring of a few teeth as a harsh chuckle escaped his throat.

[Adrian Phoenix]

The weight felt right in his hand, molding itself comfortably in his grip. Like a piece of him he'd missed, another memory forgotten. War seemed to be in his blood, strife and conflict burned forever into his soul, the death that could not reach him forever following in his wake. For as long as he could remember, Adrian had always been good at killing. Even those things never intended to take a life became instruments of death in his hands. Paper clips, pencils, glass. Adrian needed only hold it in his grasp and his mind told him all he needed to know. How to throw it, where it needed to pierce the all too fragile skin of humanity to ensure that his victims breath would be their last. How many times hadn't he caught himself sitting at his desk, absentmindedly twirling his pen while in his head he plotted the death of everyone around him?

It made him wonder, just how often had he done it before? How many times had he brought death to another human being? As he walked down the alley, slowly following in the footsteps of his killer, he wondered if he was really any better. After all, hadn't he himself been just as evil, just as psychotic, more then once? He'd killed before, he knew that. For pleasure, for profit, out of hate, spite, desperation and grief. Wasn't his hands just as bloody as those of the man he hunted?

Did he truly have any right to be this man's judge, and quite possibly his executioner? What right did he have to pass judgment on a man, when he himself was guilty of the very same crimes and a hundred more? He was thousands of years old. How many people hadn't he killed in that time? Even now, their shadows haunted the dreams he need not have, the memories of their deaths forever fresh in his mind. How many more were lost to time, beyond his shattered recollection? Perhaps that was his greatest crime of all. Most murderers remembered in vivid detail every aspect of their crime, yet he could not even recall their names. He had taken them out of this world, and did not even honor them enough to remember it.

Yet, did he not suffer for his sins? Losing one's life was considered penance enough for the vilest of transgressions, and Adrian suffered a fate far, far worse then death. He payed for his crimes not with his life, but with his very soul. Surely, there could be no punishment crueler then that of losing oneself so utterly, so completely as he did, time and time again.

Was immortality not the cruelest fate of all?

The rain spattered against his his suit as it grew in force, ice cold spears chilling him to the bone, yet he paid it no mind as he moved through the curtain of cascading water, following steadily in the wake of his prey. Then, the man stopped, and Adrian knew what was to follow. Quickly, he stepped into the shadows, vanishing from sight just as the man's eyes fell upon the place he occupied not a second ago. Cold, ruthless hunger burned behind those blue eyes, and for a second, Adrian thought he saw something else, something inhuman, move through that gaze, and briefly he wondered if his belief that the man was not quite human was far more literal then he had imagined.

Slipping silently from hiding, he once again moved to follow, slowly, as though he had all the time in the world. He knew this beast, knew how he worked and how he thought. He'd take his time, work slowly, savoring each singular moment of pain and anguish like fine wine. Adrian remembered when that very same thing had brought a cold smile to his face, yet now the memories stirred only disgust.

Perhaps he was, if anything, more suitable a judge then anyone. Did he not know first-hand the drives and urges that drove this monster to hunt, to kill? Had he not too felt the intoxicating rush, the sweet, sweet taste of your victim's dying breath? He knew this man's heart, for it had been his own. Yet had he not found redemption, had he not weighted his heart against the feather of Ma'at and been found worthy?

He had been given a new life, so that he could right the wrongs of his pasts. So was this not his duty, his destiny? Knew he the hearts of the wicked so that he would know them unworthy and bring them to their rightful fate?

And then he rounded the corner, and the morality of his actions escaped him. He witnessed the girl, her body going limp in the killer's grasp, and her that harsh, sinister voice whisper horrors to her. And it didn't matter if he had the right to lay judgment on this man. This man had no right to take the lives of another, yet he did. And Adrian realized that he couldn't concern himself with the rights and laws of man. One could not use laws to fight those to whom laws meant nothing. To fight the monsters, you had to fight on their rules. It wasn't his rights, or his laws that set him apart from them. It was his heart, his compassion, his morality. And no law, no right, could strip that from him.

He was better then this man because of who and what he was. Not because of a badge, not because of his actions. Because of his nature. He was better then this man, and that, and that alone, was what gave him the right to pass judgment. For the righteous would always stand above the wicked. It mattered not what he'd done. What mattered was that his heart was pure and his intentions honorable. That was what made him any different from the man standing before him.

He raised his gun, the click as he pulled back the hammer like the crash of thunder in the silence, and he could feel the bullet, trembling at it's dark nest at the end of the barrel. He didn't speak, there was no need for words, no need to state his intentions or clarify his motive. They both knew why he was here, what he intended to do. He would see this man brought to justice, one way or another.

Immortal eyes narrowed slightly, water dripping down his face as he looked, unflinching, at the man he'd hunted for months. So this was him. This was the man that had held New York in a grip of fear. In person, the man seemed far less imposing, far less intimidating that he'd expected. Just a man, just another man, no different from the millions of others that littered the streets. No different. Yet he had managed to terrify an entire city, kept families huddled in their houses, afraid to go out in the darkness of the night. A man, a mere mortal, had brought fear and terror in his wake.

But he was just a man, just a mortal. He bleed, he died, he withered away and crumbled to dust in the face of time. For all his anger, all his killing, he was still so... so... human. Not in spite of them, but because of them. Adrian had been wrong to think him inhuman. If anything, he was more human.

Too human.

[Karl Lykos]

As he whispered to her, whispered that he would kill her family, and kill her too, Karl felt her helpless mind struggling in the iron grasp of his superior will. Letting her exhaust herself mentally, he relished her fighting. The pitiful attempts to free herself sent ripples of pleasure down his spine as his human body reacted to having the soft, helpless figure in its arms.

A click reverberated down the alley, easily audible even to Sauron’s pitiful human ears. Stopping slowly, he turned. Standing there in the alley was a man, pointing a nine millimeter at him. Despite himself, Sauron felt fear. The weapon was negligible; bullets, while unpleasant, were seldom more than a nuisance after he had transformed. No, what frightened him was that this man, despite looking human in all respects, had an unbelievable aura, something that Sauron had never seen before.

Huge and fiery, the blazing, seething sphere of energy reared high into the sky, a blazing edifice constructed of pure life itself. And while it was probably just a fancy of Sauron’s, he almost thought he could make out the vague outline of some kind of bird in that swirl of potent power.

Giving his head a little shake, Sauron reminded himself of who he was. Regardless of the immense power of this being, Sauron could kill him. Sauron was a higher being than this mere mutant, and he would not be interrupted by his meddling. Slowly, he stepped away from the woman, and raised his hands. His cold blue eyes stared across at the man who dared interrupt him, and shrugged lightly. “I’m sorry officer,,” he said, his voice warm, a little chagrined, but certainly not the hard, fear inspiring tone from moments ago. “Me and my girl were just trying to have a little fun, but surely that’s not a reason for pointing a gun at us?”

Meanwhile, Sauron’s mind was whirring, sending messages to his victim. ~Convince the nice man that we were just trying to have some fun…~ Sauron thought at the girl who was still fully under his thrall. The girl stepped forward, doing an excellent portrayal of embarrassment and a little bit of worry. “Please sir, we’re sorry.” Looking exquisitely young, beautiful, and naïve, she moved towards the man, who Sauron had guessed was one of the human’s ineffectual little peacekeepers. “You aren’t going to arrest us, are you?”

As she moved towards him, Sauron made some calculations. He’d already told the girl he’d been following her, that he was going to kill her, and her family. Flight, therefore, was not really an option. He couldn’t have descriptions of himself getting out…that would make his future hunts far more difficult, and far less pleasurable.

Then there was this…mutant. Sauron had assumed he was a police officer, but…his aura made him exceedingly nervous. Sauron didn’t know when he’d seen such a powerful aura. Even the pitiful creature who had imprisoned him in his own mind, Exodus, hadn’t had nearly as bright and glowing an aura as this one.

Still, aura aside…This creature had chosen to serve the weaklings that Sauron knew existed only as prey, and that made him no better than them. He would die, and Sauron would be the one that would bring his death to him. But for now, he thought, grinning in his head, he would wait, and see how the officer would react to being so completely and utterly proven wrong.

[Adrian Phoenix]

Deception. Was there a response more human, more desperate then that of the lie? Adrian had the man dead to rights, so now he tried to lie, a last desperate gamble for freedom. Had to admit, it was a valiant attempt, and it would have sowed seeds of doubt into many of his colleagues. But Adrian was not one of them, and he was no fool. Lies would not cloud his mind, and petty illusions would not, could not, sway him from his path. This man would not escape so easily.

There were too many dead, too many victims for him to allow himself the luxury of doubt. Adrian had no illusions about the identity of this man, and even if he had, the whispered threats from a second ago would have uprooted the seeds of doubt, roots and all. No, this little ruse had done nothing but make him more certain that this was his killer, if only because it showed that the man clearly had some form of mutant power, although Adrian had to admit that so far, he'd seen no signs of whatever ability it was the man used to kill with. Then again, if he had, he strongly doubted the girl would still be standing.

"Nice trick." he replied, his voice low and almost unnaturally cold, devoid of even the barest sliver of emotion. Stepping closer, he raised the gun straight at the man's face, the barrel pointing firmly between the killer''s eye, and Adrian felt his finger tightening around the trigger. How easy wouldn't it be to just... pull? A single, simple twitch of a digit, and this man's gruesome legacy would be at a close. No more victims, no legal dance where corrupt judges and crooked cops could send this man not to jail, but into the waiting arms of one of the dozen organizations that would pay handsomely to have such a skilled killer in their debt, though he doubted this man would be so easily controlled.

A pull of the trigger, and the victims would be avenged and perhaps, just perhaps, their spirits could find some rest, some sliver of respite, and rest as peacefully as they ever would. Justice would be served. But even as he thought the words, he knew that was not the case. Killing this man would first and foremost be an act of vengeance, not justice. Justice was to give him a chance to go willingly, to show some remorse for his crimes and give him a trial, a chance to confess his sins as face a just punishment. To kill him, without any chance at redemption, would be to invite those demons he had fought off time, and time again. Giving in to hate was to once more become the architect of his own demise, and he would not give up his second chance so easily. Was this really his second chance though? How many times had he not had, and lost, a shoot at redemption before?

"Are you gonna stand there and debate with yourself until the Earth dies and withers to dust? Kill him!" Adrian's eyes glanced to the side, only to find... himself. Another shard, another, darker reflection of his first, true self. Dressed in a suit not unlike his own, different only in that where his was creased and lose, His was sharp and crisp, the dark crimson of His tie matched only by the red that stained the cuffs, a gruesome reminder of how the man had once earned a living.

They came, unwanted and unasked for, whispering honeyed words of poison that none but him could hear, trying time and time again to make him their puppet. And Adrian knew this one well. His predecessor, the one that had come before. A dark remainder of what he once was. "And will become again, brother. Do you really think this pathetic crusade of yours will change Anything? You'll die, sooner or later, and another one of us will rise. And another, and another. Our return to darkness is inevitable. You can stop it no more then you can the rising of the sun. Give in, kill this pest and be done with it. We have more pressing concerns."

No, he could not let them distract him, not now. Refocusing his gaze on his prey, he allowed himself a moment to study the man. Shorter then he expected, and far less menacing then he had envisioned. Who would have imagined that the New York killer would be such a frail man? He could have been a scholar. Maybe he was. If it wasn't for his hypnotic powers, could he ever have done the deeds he did? Would he? Or was it his powers, the seductive lure of control, that had set him on this path to begin with? Was the man as much a victim as those he killed, a slave to his genes?

It mattered not. He was clearly a danger, be it to himself as much as to others, and he needed to be taken care of, one way or another.

"Let her go. Now."

[Karl Lykos]

It was always so pitifully easy. The lesser beings were fools, to a man. One quick deception, and Sauron would be having his way with this little girl. One simple-

"Nice trick."

Sauron froze. Was he mistaken? The man knew that he had been manipulating the girl? For another moment, Sauron felt stone cold fear clench at his dark heart. The gun pointed at his head would kill him, because of the frail form he’d foolishly trapped himself in. But he would not give the man the satisfaction…Sauron was a superior being, born to prey on creatures like this one…and no pitiful creation of steel and powder was going to end his reign.

A small smile curved the corners of Sauron’s mouth as he stared into the eyes of the man pointing the gun at him. So hypnotizing the girl hadn’t worked…but hypnotizing the man, however…As he was preparing to unleash his mental abilities onto the unsuspecting mind of this foolish interloper, Sauron noticed something unusual. Rather than staring into Sauron’s cruel eyes, the man was glancing off to the side, his eyes filled with momentary doubt.

Memories of his own struggles with the now-vanquished weakling Karl sprang into Sauron’s mind, and amusedly he wondered if this man, this mutant with such a powerful aura suffered the same as he had. Would that not be sweet irony? To have this would-be captor fall because of the same illness that had plagued Sauron until recently. However, just as Sauron was about to begin making his way forward, the man focused his attention back on him, looking at him with a calculating gaze.

“Now let her go.”

Sauron’s thrall stood in front of him now, using her own body as protection in case the man began shooting. Sauron’s eyes, meanwhile, were focused on the man. Their eyes locked, and Sauron prepared to take over the man’s mind…

BAM!

Sauron had never felt such resistance before. Rather than destroying the man’s will with his own, which he knew was far superior, it was Sauron instead who’s consciousness was sent reeling, staggering him and causing him to grab the girl for support as the world seemed to spin around him, with blackness beginning to creep in from the swirling corners of his darkening vision.

What had happened? Sauron had been laid low by that brief instant of contact. This man’s mind was…unlike anything he’d encountered before. He had some kind of telepathic defense, the likes of which Sauron had never encountered. Not in Exodus, nor even the man who had called himself Sinister…

As blackness began to overcome him, Sauron willed himself to stay conscious, searching for something, anything, that would help him overcome the incredible blow that had been struck to his conscious. And then the answer came to him. He’d had it all along, at his very fingertips. Literally.

The girl. Within seconds, he was draining her life away, and as he did so, feeling his strength return to him. The girl was powerful, although her abilities could not have helped her, and as he drained her, he felt himself reaching that familiar threshold. As the indescribable feeling of her very life force filled him with a soaring, euphoric joy, fierce and free, his body began to feel as though it was set aflame.

His hands tensed, the muscles seizing up and locking into a feral claw-like shape as his whole body began to convulse slightly. Still, he didn’t stop, he kept taking, and taking, and then, just as there was nothing left for her to give, just as he felt her die under his hands, felt her last lurch of life tainted with the delicious bittersweet of death, he changed.

Clothes, already dirty and worn, ripped as his muscles suddenly bulged and huge, leathery wings erupted from the bottoms of his forarms, curling forward into deadly hooks as vicious talons sprouted from his hands. Raising his winged arms on high, he left out a terrible laugh, and turned his red eyed gaze on the man who had dared threaten him, he stared into the barrel of the gun fearlessly, his mind a mixture of eurphoria, contempt, and his omnipresent simmering rage.

One taloned hand lifted the girl easily and flung her limp corpse against the wall, where it cracked and crunched against the unyielding brick. “You DARE presume to threaten me?!” Sauron screeched, his voice a horrible symphony of razorblades on glass. “I AM A GOD OF DEATH, AND YOU WILL BOW TO ME!”
[/b]

[Adrian Phoenix]

No way out. The man was cornered now. His deception had failed and Adrian could imagine the panic, the fear, the confusion. The world was no longer conforming to his views, and like the rest of humanity the man grow desperate and fearful when taken out of the tiny shard of the world he knew. How little they knew. Like children, afraid of the vast, unexplored darkness that surrounded them.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the man had not yet given up whatever sliver of hope he still clung to so desperately, like a drowning man to driftwood, something which his sudden and rather strategic placement of his mental hostage showed. Adrian dared not take the shot, not yet. But there wasn't any hurry. He could wait, because sooner or later the man would slip up, make some mistake like he had done before. There was nowhere to run, and the man was only human. It was merely a matter of time, something of which Adrian had plenty.

When you looked at humanity with the eyes of an outsider, you soon started noticing things. Small things, like how they always seemed to repeat the most minute of actions every time they lied, or the look in their eyes that betrayed the emotions they worked so hard to hide. Adrian had watched mankind for an eternity, studied them for so long that they were like open books to him. He could tell love from lust, discern the truth in their lies and see the deceptions they used to fool themselves each day. Even though he could not read their minds, he could see their hearts.

But, as he locked eyes with his prey, he realized something he had forgotten. When you pushed a man too far... he pushed back.

In a frozen second of molten heat, the man's eyes turned to green fire, burning themselves past the immortal's own until they seared themselves into his soul. He felt his entire being engulfed in flames, the pain so strong that he would have clenched his teeth, had he still felt them. He could see himself in the green fire that blinded his vision, the flames pushing away the veil of eternity for the barest of instances. And he could feel them. All of them, so many he could not tell one from the other. It was like a tidal wave, smashing into him with all the fury of a storm, sweeping him away until he could not tell himself from the others. His mind flooded with memories long lost, overcome with recollections of pasts he didn't remembered, the voices of dead men echoing in his head. He dares defy me..... I shall never.... Her fire shall burn eternal.... then let us.... son.... I must.... she never knew.... He shall fall.... so long you've been lost... two deaths as one.... the planes themselves shall tremble...Eternity awaits brother.... what can.... the lady will have yer head... you are not Known to me... change...I needed time... nature... more time.. Just a little... in his deception lies the truth... and his faith shook the walls...

Then, just as sudden as they had come, they were gone, his mind still echoing with their ghosts. And he could feel the world again, the rain splattering against his back, and he realized he was on his knees, his eyes stinging with the tears of losing it all again. So close, he had been so close to knowing himself again, yet it had been nothing but a lie. This man had taunted him with the truth that had eluded him for centuries, giving him the faintest recollection before snatching it all away again. He felt his hand close around the grip of his gun as he raised himself to his feet, bringing his weapon towards to man once again, only to find the girl in the man's grip, her eyes growing dull and dead, her body limp in his hands. And he knew what he was seeing, and he knew he was too late. He could only watch, petrified in place, as the man seemed to grow, euphoria in his eyes, changing, twisting like the monster of a fairytale, becoming the embodiment of something just as ancient as Adrian.

He watched her lifeless body crumble to the ground, and for the first time in years he felt true rage. It burned like molten steel in his veins, setting every cell ablaze, and he felt his eyes darken as instincts took over, the culmination of countless millenniums of warfare burning across his mind. With peerless precision, he fired, effortlessly compensating for the recoil, each bullet aimed for a weak spot. A knee, an artery, an eye. Time and time again the gun screamed in the silence of the night, the falling brass like golden bells against the pavement until the hammer hit nothing but air. Before he knew it, he was closing the distance, dropping the useless weapon to the ground.

The beast before him effortlessly swiped the girl's dead body against the wall, and Adrian felt his rage grow colder, becoming focused. There would be no trial, no court, no jury. Only judgment. He watched, undaunted, as it screamed into the air.

“You DARE presume to threaten me?! I AM A GOD OF DEATH, AND YOU WILL BOW TO ME![/i]

"I dare." Adrian responded, with the cold, focused voice of a man who outlived man and mountain alike, the force of the ages behind his every word. "For my blade has shattered walls and crumbled spirits, and my very name has brought low kings. I have outlived Babylon and seen the fall of Rome. And today, I will see yours!" With each word he quickened his pace until he found himself running, raising his fist as he let it crash down toward the face of the monstrosity before him with all the might that the human body could ever hope to achieve.

[Karl Lykos]

The man had been affected by it too. The thought floated disconnectedly through Sauron’s mind as the sound of his shredding clothing and the groaning and snapping of his sinew filled the air, coupled with his harsh laughter. Although his attempt at hypnosis had almost incapacitated Sauron, it seemed to have a smilar effect on the man as well.

However, as quickly as Sauron recovered, so did the man. Sauron had barely transformed, his mind swirling and pulsing with exhilaration as the life of the drain filled him like an empty waterskin, allowing him to take his true form, when a hail of dangerously accurate bullets sped through the air at him, giving him no time to react.

Sauron’s body jolted a bit as a bullet collided with his tricept, his knee, the body ridge above his eye. Chuckling slightly as he heard the man’s useless weapon click empty, Sauron stared down at him with red eyes. “The time for that pathetic security blanket is gone. The real world’s here…it’s time to stop hiding under the bed.”

Cackling with triumph, Sauron tossed the lifeless body of his prey aside, screaming a challenge to the interloper. A challenge…the man seemed inclined to meet.

"I dare,” the man said, with a strength and a determination that Sauron, despite his superiority, nonetheless found somewhat unsettling. "For my blade has shattered walls and crumbled spirits, and my very name has brought low kings. I have outlived Babylon and seen the fall of Rome. And today, I will see yours!" As he spoke, the man began to move towards him, going faster and faster until he was sprinting towards Sauron.

Sauron would have smiled, if he’d had lips. Instead, his beak cracked slightly, his red eyes glinting in anticipation as the man hurled forward his fist with the strength of his run and the whole of his frame behind it, the curled hand smashing into Sauron’s face.

…Unfortunately, compared to the bullets Sauron had just taken, a punch didn’t feel like much, particularly because the man had decided to punch Sauron in his extremely hard, extremely bony “face”. Granted, the bullets he’d taken had been robbed of much of their force by the energy he’d just absorbed, and taking the fire had certainly deprived him of some of that energy, but he was nowhere near in danger of reverting back to his weak form.

Remaining motionless, Sauron stared down at the man. “This is not a game,” Sauron hissed. “I. Am. Death.” Sauron’s voice was low, sibilant, but filled with a barely controlled rage, as his anger rose to the boiling point. This…man had shot at him, had punched him, and had even hurt him with he’d tried to hypnotize him. Sauron enjoyed a game of cat and mouse…but at the moment, he just wanted to hurt the man.

Faster than the blink of an eye, Sauron swept out his wing, striking the man with the force used to keep an almost three hundred pound being of muscle and bone in the air for hours at a time, sending the pathetic creature spiraling through the air like a ragdoll, sending him spiraling through the air to against the wall of the alley.

[Adrian Phoenix]

He could feel them, all of them, burning through his veins, guiding his hand. A hundred lifetimes of war, of conflict and strife, each one fresh in his mind, each one telling him how to move, how to act, how to think. Yet he didn't try to remember, didn't try to recall what he'd been or what he'd done. No, right then he thought only of hurting this man, this human. Of causing him all the pain he had brought to the girl and a hundred others. Of tearing flesh from bone, sinew from muscle. To bring him a thousand deaths worth of suffering and anguish until the man lay dead at his feet.

Yet, as his fist connected, the only bones breaking were his own. He could feel them cracking like glass, the pain spreading across his nerves like fire, dulled only by age and experience. How well did he not know suffering? Even in this lifetime alone he had suffered injuries that would have killed him tenfold, yet even the most horrible of injury was dulled, and this one was no different. The abrupt stop of the blow was unexpected though, and Adrian couldn't help but stumble as he lost his balance, putting him out of action long enough for his opponent to swat him away like a fly, sending him spinning through the air.

For a second, he felt only the soothing chill of the air pulling at him, yet the serenity was all too short. As he smashed into the wall, the pain was excruciating, too powerful for even him to completely ignore. Bones shattered, skin ruptured and muscles were brutally ripped apart. His entire body was on fire as he collapsed to the ground, a mangled mockery of a man, his limbs torn out of their sockets and his own bones piercing skin. The world faded to black for a moment, the figure of his opponent growing blurred and unfocused, his red eyes growing brightly in the darkness.

The form was intimidating in it's inhumanity, the form of a creature designed to instill fear and terror in all who saw it. Yet, as the pain slowly fled from his mind, Adrian realized that, beneath the scales and claws, it was still just a mortal. It could bleed, it could be hurt, it could be killed. What hope did anything so pitifully fragile stand when faced with that which not even eternity had any hopes of slaying?

Adrian pulled himself to his feet, watching with jaded indifference as his arm bent into shape with the sickening crack of shifting bone. Already he could feel it, the hazy warmth of his healing spreading through his body, mending flesh and setting bone until nothing ever indicated he had ever even been hurt. Adrian cracked his neck as he raised himself up, the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips as he stared into those red eyes.

The anger still bubbled beneath his skin, but it had cooled, adapted. This was not a battle that could be won with rage and strength. No, he had to go at this with his mind, fight smart. His opponent was stronger and quite possibly faster. But, like always, Adrian had endurance on his side. To win, he would have to wear the man down, goad him into making a mistake.

“This is not a game,”

"I'm not playing." Came the reply, just as even and confident as before. Adrian began to stalk closer, slowly this time. Walking, as though he had not a care in the world, eyes running up and down the creature in front of him, almost analyzing him like one would a painting, trying to discern any weakness, any crack between those green scales, scrutinizing every inch for a sign of weakness. The anatomy was clearly different, so any attempt to strike at a nerve cluster or pressure point would be a swing in the dark, and even the man's joints seemed to be protected.

"I'm Immortal. What hope can you possibly have to succeed when entire armies have failed?" he asked, his voice still carrying that almost otherworldly tone, as though there was something else, something utterly alien lurking beneath the words, too diffuse to grasp yet too inhuman to miss.

[Karl Lykos]

Sauron crowed in victory, savoring the sight of his opponent’s fragile body smashed and ruined against the hard brick wall. In a way, he was slightly disappointed. The man’s aura had been so great, so awesome, that to defeat him so easily was almost a let down. Sauron had almost been hoping for a challenge. Dismissing the thought, Sauron simply attributed it to his superiority. Truly, even the highest of the pitiful foodlings was still far, far below his majesty.

It was as he was celebrating that Sauron noticed something…unusual. Something that made him pause. The man’s aura was still there, and glowing as brightly and powerfully as the moment Sauron had first seen it. Even more surprising, the man was already beginning to rise. Sauron had seen the damage to him, and knew that no one could stand after being so broken. Yet there he stood, stepping forward as challengingly as though he hadn’t nearly just died.

As the man rose from his position, he spoke to Sauron, in a voice that caused even the psychopathic reptile to pause. The man’s voice was like nothing he’d heard before, infinitely colder than the voice of any mere human or weak willed mutant. The man’s voice also held a supreme confidence, an absolute knowledge of his ability to persevere, that shook even Sauron for a moment.

“I’m not playing,” the man said, walking carelessly forward. Or at least trying to pretend that he had no cares…Sauron’s dangerous red eyes didn’t miss the fact that the man was studying him, obviously sizing him up. The thought snapped Sauron back to his senses. The man actually believed he had a chance against Sauron? He was studying him, as though he could actually harm Sauron. Surprised as he was that the man wasn’t dead yet, or didn’t even appear to be hurt,

"I'm Immortal. What hope can you possibly have to succeed when entire armies have failed?" The man continued his forward walk, and Sauron had had enough. Snarling, Sauron lashed out with his wingtip, catching the man with the sharply hooked bone that protruded from the end of the wing, and jerking him closer.

Sinking his sharp talons into the man’s tender flesh, Sauron stared down at him with his terrible red eyes as the blood flowed freely down his arms. “I will succeed,” Sauron said, quietly, hissing his words down to the fragile bag of blood snared helplessly on his claws, “Because I was born to kill.”

Snapping his head down in a surprisingly bird-like motion, Sauron thrust his sharp beak forward, smashing it through the man’s teeth, tongue, and lower jawbone before savagely ripping his beak back out, taking with it a large chunk of the man’s tongue. Slashing the man cruelly with his razor claws, Sauron threw the man to the ground before him and impaled him on his wing, stabbing the cruel talon through the man’s ribcage and out the other side. Cackling again, he began to drain the man’s life energy.

[Adrian Phoenix]

It was all so damn quiet. No sounds of life, nothing but the endless tirade of the rain splattering against the ground, a neverending storm of tiny spears, the kind of cold that buried itself down to the bone with all the chilling warmth of the Styx. Yet Adrian didn't feel it. All he could feel was the ghosts, the etheral touch of his past. It was moments like this, where time seemed to seize and the past and the present and the future got all muddled up, that he started to remember. His recollection was only a sliver of it, the barest of taste of the truth, but even that was more then enough. Even now, he could see the move before his eyes, each step, every movement as clear as day. He saw the attack before it ever even begun, yet he made no move to avoid it. People always got vulnerable when they thought they'd won. No man knew how to avoid an attack by an enemy that should have been dead. And this one was as careless as any other, even more so. So pitifully mortal in it's pathetic convictions of superiority.

Right then, he froze, his mind stirring at the thought he hadn't even seemed to have thought, shocked at the tactics it had never known. For a hundredth of a second, the doubt raced through his mind, only to be mercilessly crushed by the knowledge that right now, it didn't matter. He'd sort it out later. First, he had more important things to consider.

And then it came, the sharp claw of the wing, digging into his flesh and dragging him close. Close enough that he could feel the thing's putrid breath on his face, close enough that he could look into those red, cold eyes and respond with nothing but supreme confidence. It had nothing, no chance, not even the faintest hope. Even here, when it thought it had him at it's mercy, was it anything but yet another short lived creation of mortality. Here it was, convinced it was the god of death. But in a hundred years, it would be gone, nothing but dust and bones, it's existence forgotten by all and remembered by none. Not even he would be able to recall it for long. Soon, he would forget, and the last remnants of yet another mortal would truly die.

He waited, patiently watching it as he hung there like a twisted puppet on a broken string, searching for even the smallest opening. Yet none came, only another blow, the twisted talons digging deeper into his flesh, rendering muscle as they sunk deeper still. Then pain. Searing agony that turned his vision red and burned through his senses until nothing but the suffering remained. He didn't feel it as it ripped it's monstrous beak out, tearing his jaw away and leaving only a gaping void. Didn't feel it as it smashed him into the ground, grinding his bones to dust and shattering his skull. Didn't feel it rip apart his lung, didn't feel it's cold claw dig through his body. He felt only the pain that transcended the puny limits of his immortal flesh, burning so strongly he felt... nothing?

Nothing. He could feel it. Death. Soothing, beckoning him, it's cold touch finally slipping through his body, sucking away the warmth that had burned him for so long. Only now did he realize the torment those flames had brought him, as he finally felt her tender hand upon him. So beautiful. She was so.... very... beautiful. She'd been waiting for him, he knew. So long had they been apart, yet finally..... so very long. Yet her name still shone brightly in his mind, and he could almost remember. He'd forgotten her, though he had promised he never would. Shame came upon him, yet she froze it upon his lips. No remorse. She understood. She had always understood. And he'd loved her for it, like he had loved her for everything else. He looked upon her, and for the first time in an eternity, he knew her again. Her name came upon him then, and it was such a simple thing.

Fire. It burned into him again, digging it's searing claws into him, tearing him away from her, the soothing coolness of her touch vanishing under it's grip. And he was back, the air burning into his lungs, the fire like molten steel in his veins, LIFE, in a form purer then anything any mortal would ever feel, infusing his body with it's essence. He could feel again, every single nerve, every exquisite aspect of pain so strong that it washed away her name, washed away that sweet beauty that had haunted him for so long, until she was lost to him again, only the ghost remaining in his mind.

He saw it then, the pathetic creature that had tried and failed to kill him. His hand wrapped around the wing embedded in his chest. And he saw it, saw the opening he had been waiting for. And with nothing but a kick, he sent the creature reeling backwards, it's wing tipped with what little blood he had left.

Pulling himself to his feet, his muscles tried to smile, but his jaw would not obey. Yet even now, with the sickening sound of bone breaking in reverse, a new one began to emerge, the bone spreading like cancer from his skin. Already the wounds in his chest were gone, only his tattered suit, stained with his own blood, remaining as a sign of his injury. By now, the bone had grown back, but the skin was still gone, leaving only the bleached paleness of the bone.

Even now, he felt that part of him he'd touched slip away, that faceless, nameless entity that had crept into his mind, whispering words of power in his ear. And it took with it that unshakable certainty, that undeniable knowledge that transcended any mortal trapping. And he felt... empty, hollow. Like he had lost something, forgotten something, yet he couldn't recall what. All he knew was that something important wasn't there anymore, and this... this... man was to blame for it.

Adrian looked into those red eyes, and he felt the fire burning behind his own. While he lacked the certainty and conviction of the aspect that had slipped from him, he was still Adrian Phoenix, and he'd be damned if he'd let a killer go free.

The rain smashed against his frame, mixing with his blood as it cascaded down the shreds that still clung loosely to his form. And he smiled with the jaw that still showed the white of his bones, permanently locked in the haunting vision of the grin of a dead man.

[Karl Lykos]

He had spent his life trapped inside the head of a weakling, an insignificant blip on the sonar of life, flickering briefly and then vanishing. Sauron had been birthed by fire, by death. He had had to fight for his very existence, steal his life away from his creator, and take it into his own hands.

Even now, somewhere in the back of his mind, was the only being Sauron truly feared, the only being that Sauron knew would end his reign as lord of the humans and mutants alike. Karl Lykos, Sauron’s maker, had the potential to be his destroyer as well. As much as Sauron would never admit it, Lykos was the only human who he could not harm. He was Sauron’s only weakness, and the only human who had power over him.

The rest were prey. Mutants, humans…they were all the same. So consumed by their arrogance, their superiority, that they never paused to look around, and take stock of their world, at the natural order. Humans believed that they had long ago risen above any threat Mother Nature could throw at them. They had grown careless in their dominance, they had grown weak, complacent.

Sauron was not weak. Conflict defined his very being. With him, Sauron brought death. Sauron killed to live, and without the constant flow of death around him, Sauron would have no choice but to surrender to Lykos, and Lykos’ way of life. Something that he would not allow to happen.

Before him stood a human, just like any other, no matter how unusual his aura was. Sauron killed him. He killed him again, and again. But no matter how many times Sauron rent and tore, the man stood up again, his eyes blazing defiance.

Never had Sauron encountered anything like this. The man…lived. As much as Sauron could gave, and more, this man took. When Sauron had begun to siphon the man’s life from him, that life force overflowed into Sauron, filling him to the brim, and further, sending so much ecstasy through him that it hurt, that it was too painful, that Sauron had to stop.

The man was untouchable. No matter what Sauron did, the man stood up again. And so after Sauron attacked, more savagely than ever before, ruining the man’s form, destroying his face and shredding his body, only to watch the man stand back up, Sauron had had enough. This game was no longer amusing.

With a snap of his wings, Sauron surged suddenly forward, unusually silent, his harsh mocking laughter and mad screeches of victory strangely absent. With one casual wingbeat, Sauron had flown over the man, savagely smashing him with a wing as he did so. Before the man could fall, however, Sauron grabbed him between his legs, hooking him with the cruel talons on his feet designed for just such a purpose.

Sauron would have one last try at ending the man’s insufferable boldness. Each powerful wing stroke brought the pair higher into the air, sending them soaring over the buildings. Sauron planned to send the man smashing through a high-rise building…if he couldn’t kill the man, perhaps the humans’ pitiful police force would put him away, so that Sauron would never be bothered by his insolence again.

But then something went wrong. With a harsh jerk, Sauron was pulled rudely from the air, crashing onto the roof of a large building. Sauron skidded roughly along the uneven surface of the roof. Dragging his talons into the roof to slow his painful journey, Sauron snapped up to his feet with a flap of his wings, red eyes staring balefully at the man. It seemed flight would not be an option. No matter how difficult the task seemed, the man had just sealed his fate.

Rage broiled in Sauron’s soul, burning his blood and fueling his hate of this single being seemingly capable of cheating that which Sauron had dealt to countless others. Slowly, still silently, Sauron began his walk towards the man. It would end. Now.