Before anyone starts reading this, there are a few things I must note. First up, I wrote this in ten minutes. I had a small timeframe, and I needed to do other stuff. Second, it was written as a joining requirment for a Upper Echelon RP. Comments are always nice, but I won't edit. This story had a purpose, and its done its job.The night was dark, cool, and peaceful. The streets were motionless. The facing windows of the buildings made never ending reflections, perfectly aligned. The tiles of the street shimmered in the light of the full moon, marking the rain from the day before. The claws of my footpaws made smal ticking noises as I ran over them, the sound bounching of the buildings, just like the light in the windows. The night was nice, and easy, but not for me. I didn't have time to enjoy it's simple yet stunning beauty. No, I had more important buisness, wich was mainly to stay alive.

A loud shot echoed through the empty street, overtaking the ticking noises I made. Just a moment later a hot object wizzed by. The fur on my shoulder curled slighty as it flew over, the heat melting the tips of the hairs. My breath was already a heavy form of panting. My muscles burned, my chest was painful, and a wound in my side left a easy-to-follow trail. Men shouted behind me, swearing mostly. Some of there words I picked up. They spoke about a defiance of god, of life itself. They didn't understand, and I couldn't blaim them for it. Humans. Fearing everything they do not understand. It went the same in every town I visited in search for food and shelter. All reactions were the same. The childeren and woman screamed, the men cursed. Only difference here was, that they had strange sticks, that could fire hot objects at great speed. That I found out in the worst way, an object like that now being stuck in my side.

The net was still there. These people were smarter, or should I say stupider then elsewhere. I tried spreading my wings, the fishing net holding them tightly together. I couldn't reach it, nor break it with the muscles in my wings. All I could do now, was run, and hope that they would give up sooner then me. That hope was useless. They have managed to wound me, and they knew that what could be wounded, could be killed. There lust for blood and death was strange. I was supposed to be the badd one here, and yet, I never hurt anyone in my entire life. Strange how people can just act to what they see, and not to what they can think about something. "DIE!" It sounded behind me, yet another shot being fired. Dashing to the right, my demon senses telling me to do it, I managed to evade the bullet. What was now the trouble, is that this alley was a dead end.

Even knowing that it was no use, I ran further, to the far end, and stopping at that impenetrable wall. The wall that marked my death, my end of life, the stopping of my excistence. Slowly I turned around, hearing the townsmen yelling in joy, seeing wich alley I turned in. There was really no hope for me left, no magical saviour, a hero, to come and grab me, swinging by on a long rope. No escape, other then the escape of life. The small light at the end of the alley was soon blocked by about twenty men standing in the opening. Out of instinct, I flattend myself against the wall.

The men could only grin as they raised there weapons. They were so sure of there case, that they actually got a priest, who started reading from a book as the men loaded there rifles. Black powder went in, followed by a small ball. They stamped in inwards with a long stick, wich they then slid back into the side of the weapon. More of that black powder when on the side, a small copper pin being pulled back. The container of the black powder got popped closed, and hung back. Then the moment came, there weapons raised. With my night-eyes I could see the bullet inside, deadly, unforgiving, a tool to relieve the hate they all had in there hearts. And for what? Because I had a red fur, large wings, and from what they believed, came from hell.

Something happend in my brain. It realized it was about to die. It realized that there was only one option out of this. I don't know what happend exactly, but something took over. My eyes turned pitch-black, a shade that was endless, a glance at what oblivion would look like. My muscles stopped burning, high levels of adrenaline rushing through, dampening the pain. My paws spread, claws extending. Then the real me left, leaving only this darker essence. A true demon, a true Akuma from the deep dark pits of hate and pain.

Laying still in the street, covered with blood. It wasn't my blood, it was a mixture of many sorts. My eyes, my bright yellow eyes, blinked open. With a growl of fear and dispizement I jumped up, having stared in the torn up face of a child. My back arched, trembled with horror and disgust as I turned, seeing the street. The sight was something that really belonged in the nightmares of war veterans. Bodies lay still in the street. Men, woman, children. Dogs, cats, rabbits. No life was spared. Bodies torn, limbs ripped off, faces burned, or removed. Blood ran down the hill, between the shimmering tiles. No longer it was a shimmering of past rain, it now was of the present horror. Silent tears ran down, pointlessly dropping in the flow of blood.

With an mind, daffled with horror, I slowly shuffled through the streets. Passing a house, it had scratch marks on it, a body laying below them. My nails fit perfectly as I lay my paw on the marks. It only enshured my that this was my work. This is what released. This is the result, the result of years of shunning, years of dispizment and rejection. I helped people, taking away there plagues, sickness. My presence made there crops grow faster, and richer of nutrition. And what did I get out of it, nothing. What was my place? Where did I come from? Two answers I have seeked the answers for all my life, and never found them.

Life, a strange thing. It's the formation of a body and soul. In the process of life, it grows in experience, in relations, a better understanding of this world. It learned to love, to like, to hate, to be happy, or sad. It learned what the first kiss was like, what the first rejection was like, what a new born child felt like. But then, there was the other side. Death, the end of it all. What was the point of life, when it ends with death? Questions, lots of questions. Answers? Zero. Well, one. It was a simple answer, to a simple question. What now? The answer was quite short, self-explenatory. Nothing. Was there anything else to say? I have killed, ended life, its experiences ended by my claws, teeth or fire.

I still had my life, I still had my gained experiences. Who was I to have it, while they didn't. I decided to go with the answer I cam to earlier. Do nothing. Slowly I walked to the central space of the town. It was here were the executions were held. Every town had one of those wooden structers, that made a blade drop, and sever a head. It only supported there lust for the ending of life. Tears still dropped, streaming, marking the inner pain that raged inside of me. "You have made me into what you saw me as. A demon. A creature of pain and death." I said to the dead bodies I passed. Some may found this crazy, but dead people weren't silent, they spoke to me, using there blood and guts that flew out.

With tired arms I pulled on the rope, seeing how this device worked. The blade set itself locked, one pull on the rope should do it. I had nothing to live for, I wouldn't be accepted, nor liked in any way. Then this was it, this was my end. Or to say, a start of a second chance. Silently I lay myself down, the rope in my paw, the blade high above my neck. As I pulled the rope, I only hoped that I would be born once more, and this time, as a careless creature. A creature that did have a place on this earth. My thoughts ended quickly, a soft sting in my neck, then only a cold, yet friendly embracing darkness.