Obscurity has no hero, (ERIK SPECTRE!)

[wesley]

To say that Wesley hated crowds was, in all honesty, an understatement. So why on god's green earth, if the idea of being around large amounts of people bothered him so, had he chosen to come to one of the most crowded sectors of ever-bustling New York City? Well, he hadn't gotten that far in the thinking process yet. But here he was, standing idle as far back against the wall of a theatre as he could possibly manage to avoid any and all human contact. People were nasty creatures, after all, and he couldn't stand the idea of having grubby, smelly, unwashed bodies pressing in on him from all sides.

He shuddered faintly and dug through the pocket of his favorite faded pinstripe slacks and pulled out his bottle of hand-sanitizer. With a deft pop of the lid and a gentle squeeze, he relieved so of the strong-smelling liquid into his palms and rubbed them together feverishly. Disgusting city, this was. He could hardly stand it sometimes.

And that's why we get rid them, isn't it, pet?

A twisted grin tugged at his thin lips, horridly chapped from lack of hydration-- unless, of course, booze counted as hydration. Yes, that was exactly why he killed so many. He had to rid the worlds of bastards and the unfit parents of lovely wristwatches. Some people were so selfish, caring so little for the little darlings... But they would be safe with him. He palmed the satchel slung heavily, awkwardly over his shoulder and a tight, high-pitched chuckle escaped his lips. He could feel the rounded back end of his treasured pistol, wrapped lovingly in a rag and tucked ever-so-carefully into the bag beside his assortment of wristwatches.

Tonight he needed entertainment-- and not the sort they myriad theatres and hungry-eyed, wandering prostitutes could provide. No, tonight, he was desperately in need of intelligent conversation.


“Mindless chatter”

^{TAG - Leffie and her Erik
WORDS - 310
NOTES - Thread virginity is yours XD
TUNES - the comedown, bring me the horizon
CREDIT - MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

I needed stimulation.

I was becoming bored with life. My life becoming boring was a shock to me, since that had never happened before. I felt content, but I wasn't happy, and that was strange, to be content but not happy. Happiness was subjective, in my opinion, so I doubted I'd ever attain complete and absolute bliss (an impossibility, in any case).

I swirled the wine in my glass as I left through the stage door. I liked to bother the actors who were performing my musical. They amused me, and I liked looking on their shocked faces that were appalled that a man as completely vulgar (again, a subjective term), eerie, and with a rather macabre sense of humor could have written such an upbeat 1950's style musical like the one they were performing. Well, let's just say I have a rather active imagination.

They still bored me, however. Sure, they were good for a few laughs, but eventually if I went to far they'd kick me out, and I might just grace the tabloids. I left before anything could happen, always.

The street was crowded as the musical was just letting out. The actors would be a few minutes before they left through this door, so I had a bit of time to myself. I leaned against the the wall outside the door and sipped my glass, staring up at the moon. It was quite full and beautiful, like a large creamy pearl amongst a bed of diamonds. In fact I hadn't seen the stars above New York City in a while, and for a moment I believed it wasn't the blinking lights of the city that never sleeps, and pretended like I was somewhere else, in the country of Canada or perhaps the desert of the Middle East, where no smog was available to cloud the sky.

I sighed. What a boring night. The company had been sub-par, and I was now at the edge of my patience with myself. Perhaps I could have pushed them to do better, but sadly I wasn't the director. If I had been, they would have been crying by now, the little wimps.

I turned my head and noticed a young man further on down the alleyway. I didn't recognize him, but nevertheless, it seemed like something to do. So I decided to bother him, like I bothered the players. I shrugged and slunk away from the wall, gliding over to him and leaning back a few paces away. I propped my foot against the brick of the wall and tucked my other hand under my arm. I sipped the delicious wine and looked down.

"What are you doing just hanging around my theatre?"