It was time to wear something dapper and join my fellow anarchists down on the streets of Manhattan.
I watched my reflection in the mirror, adjusting each element of my outfit with meticulous precision. The black shirt, the tie snug around my neck, the tailored blazer with its four-breasted design—all were carefully chosen to project today's mood. Leather black gauntlets on my hands, flared black trousers and black tabi boots completed the ensemble, exuding an air of elegance, perfect.
When it comes to fashion, each detail serves as a statement—a manifestation of your inner truths. For me, black was not merely a random color I chose for today but a canvas upon which I painted my intentions.
It symbolized the end of humanity, a funeral requiem for a world teetering on the edge of oblivion.
It is ironic because the world will be destroyed by the hands of the creatures who self-proclaim that they are the guardians of Mother Earth and her defenders, and guess who they are, why of course, humans!
My presentation was not mere self-obsession; it was a form of communication, a silent representation of identity. Just as a chef meticulously arranges a dish to attract the eye and then the palate, so too did I craft my appearance to captivate the eye of the witness.
With three final pieces to complete the puzzle, I wore my metallic face mask— a token of my true self, hidden beneath layers of illusion to be accepted by the norm standards. Oval golden-framed glasses served not only to correct my astigmatism but also to serve an aesthetic purpose.
And then, there was my katana sword— inspired by Hattori Hanzō's design. Why a katana sword, you might ask? For in a world consumed by chaos, where the old order crumbles and new empires rise from the ashes, it is a weapon of tradition and honor, and well it was a decoration in my living room and it was time to use it for a greater purpose.
The katana sword, poised upon my back, served two purposes in my grand design, and both were deceitful.
Upon seeing it, my enemies would think I am a skilled swordsman, hiding my true capabilities. My ability that I named Freak Show, a title inspired by the circus and its hidden horrors.
Back when I was a child, I was obsessed with the circus and visited it frequently. What fascinated me wasn't the performance but the darkness and creepiness that hid beneath each costume of each performer.
Behind the painted smiles and flamboyant costumes, I sensed a twisted obsession. Clowns, in particular, evoked in me a primal unease—a feeling that they harbored a fucked up nature beneath their playful tricks and jokes.
And so, Inspired by them, I sought to emulate the hidden creepiness and terror of the circus and its performers, to become a living embodiment of fear concealed within the guise of my innocent face. While I appeared as the charming Eros, with features similar to a fallen angel, I, and only I knew that beneath this veneer lay something hideous, an abomination of sorts.
My long, wavy brown hair cascaded like a dark curtain around my pale face, framing my sharp features. Newly acquired heterochromatic eyes, one golden hazel, and the other tiger brown stared out from beneath perfect brown brows. A Greek nose and soft, full lips completed the visage—a mask of beauty that concealed the true depths of real malevolence.
I was the embodiment of Pandora's box, containing all evil, that I would soon unleash. But, I and Pandora's box are not perfectly alike, you see, inside Pandora's box lies also hope, but inside me lies the complete opposite, despair, towards those who would face me.
As the rain fell heavily, covering Manhattan in a shroud of mist, I finally stepped onto the stage of the city streets.
I felt The Earl's eyes watching me from afar, like a maestro orchestrating the discordant notes of humanity's descent into madness.
But I intended to compose my own masterpiece—a performance that would eclipse even his grand design.
As I walked through the rain-soaked streets, I witnessed beauty, the depths of human depravity laid bare in front of me. It was a spectacle both horrifying and captivating, a testament to the darkness that dwelled within the hearts of men. And yet, amidst the chaos, I saw an opportunity—the chance to unveil my true artistry to the world with no consequences.
But as I walked more, my presence did not go unnoticed. Three men, drawn by my looks, approached me with ill intent. Their leader, a thug with a menacing glare, went straight to the point.
"Give us all you have," he growled, "or we'll beat the shit out of you and throw you in the trash, fancy boy."
I don't blame them for attacking me. My looks manifest Lamb energy and theirs manifest wolf, predators, and whatnot. But the Lamb was only a disguise because I was an eldritch terror.
I obviously remained unfazed and decided to entertain them. For I knew that this encounter was but the opening act of a much larger performance. With a smirk hidden behind my mask, I answered the thug,
"Oh, but you underestimate me, man." I retorted coolly, my voice carrying a hint of obvious amusement. "You see big boy, I have a katana sword on my back, and it seems like you are unarmed. So, if a brawl were to happen, I'm quite confident you'd lose, not just the fight, but possibly a few limbs as well. Haha."
The leader's laughter faltered as he pulled out an automatic Glock from his pocket, his smirk morphing into a sneer of contempt.
"You think I'm joking, you punk ass bitch?" he screamed, his grip tightening on the weapon. "Now, you put your katana on the floor like the obedient bitch you are, or I'll blow your brains out."
Let's fuck with them a bit, shall we?
I seized the opportunity to demonstrate my wickedness. In one quick motion, I reached out, pressing his gun against my own forehead.
"Now," I declared, my voice dripping with calm madness, "I'll give you three seconds. If you don't pull that trigger now, I'll disarm you, break every bone in your body, and use my katana to turn you into minced meat. I'll store you in a freezer and spend each day contemplating how best to cook you up."
My stare was intense like one of a savage, and they could hear my very breath echoing through the face mask.
It was an unpredictable dance to them, but for me, it was like my salsa dance class on Friday.
"3,2,1..."
The thug leader, fueled by anger, his trembling hand tightening around the gun as he spat his final threat.
"DIE, motherfucker!"
As the trigger was pulled, time seemed to freeze, which allowed me to witness the bullet's trajectory toward my forehead in slow motion.
Damn, I gotta admit, at that moment, I felt like a superhero.
With a swift movement, I intercepted it between my thumb and index finger.
"Sick move, right guys?"
Seizing the opportunity, I disarmed the leader, shot them all in the kneecaps with his gun, rendering them all helpless like newborn babies.
As they knelt before me, incapacitated and at my mercy, the roles shifted dramatically. The hunters had become the hunted.
Now the lamb shall feast on the wolves.
I then said:" Now now now boys? The fuck did I say? I gotta keep my promise now.
Tsk, It is time to slice you up, and long after you die I will eat you and make the tastiest meals of you, pinky promise <3."
As I drew my katana from its scabbard, ready to execute these feeble thugs, I controlled my bloodlust.
"Not yet, Eros, Not yet," I whispered to myself as I put my hand on my face.
Opting for caution, I chose not to kill them, for their lives were not worthy of my blade.
Their fate rested in my hands, and that was enough for me. In that moment, I found contentment in the knowledge that their survival was at my whim.
I looked at them one final time, bidding them farewell with a smirk,
"It's just the luck of the draw boys, you just tried to rob the wrong motherfucker, it happens.
Good luck in your future thefts," I said, leaving them with a warning.
"Remember the man with the metallic face mask; The Child Of Insight.
We will meet again someday."
Turning away, I headed towards the bus station, my destination clear in my mind: a café for my favorite addiction, a cappuccino.
Arriving at the station after a brief walk, I encountered a lone figure amidst a bloodbath, four lifeless bodies around her while she remained unscathed.
As I approached her carefully, I noticed heterochromia, indicating her potential status as a fellow contract holder. With a smile, I drew nearer, draping my overcoat around her to shield her from the rain-soaked surroundings...