You are the Moon || KiahXXSkitz

Demitri.

The wind rushed around my body. My feet left solid ground. And then I was flying.

A smile whipped across my face as I felt nothing but the air slide around me, capturing me in its arms, and holding me tightly as I tucked my legs close to my stomach, before unfolding just as I was about to touch the ground. The whole movement was performed with the art of perfection. for years I have practiced and practiced this movement and for years I have screwed it up, always managing to land on my face, or my knees or my back. But after the last couple years I have perfected all of my moments of flying through the sky. I have learnt to perfect my mistakes; I have learnt the way that would make these movements more graceful, more elegant. The smile on my face only grows as I take off running again, my feet making no more sound that a gentle tap, tap, tap.

I have been running these streets for my life, doing what I am told, when I am told. But I love it; I love every moment of my life, running through the mysterious night, watching as the buildings zoom past me in nothing more than a blur, nothing more than a blur of adrenaline. Tonight I was not just running the streets of my home because I wanted to, but because I was on my way to completing the mission that I had been sent off to do. I had to find the girl, the girl with the pretty white dress, the one who slept in the large house, the one who was using men, killing them and then draining there blood. I had to find her, and then kill her. But no, her death was not just going to be a death that is easy, one that she could just passed off as a bad scratch, no. She won’t know what hits her until it does, and then she would beg me to stop; she would apologies for what she had done. But I wouldn’t forgive her. No. I wouldn’t. She was a monster, and she deserved what was coming for her.

But I knew I wouldn’t have to look hard, after all, this is what I have trained my whole life for, for finding my assignments and then killing them. It is all I know, it is all I have been told. To kill. To kill with efficiency and to keep it clean. But after a few years I have developed from those few words, I know go by killing, turning the death into an art form, the disposing my art- usually taking it to the art gallery where I place the body where it can be seen by all the art lovers of the district. You could only imagine the surprise on their faces (appreciation for the detail too though.)

By now the peacekeepers would be wandering the streets looking for rats, the kids who thought it would be fun to walk around at night when there time was up. But I didn’t care for the little peacekeepers who wandered the streets- they were nothing to me but a slight obstacle. I need not worry about them; I could elude them with a smile flick of my finger. I have trained to be stealthy, to hide from the eyes of my victims, and witnesses. I never got caught when performing my acts of goodness to this world.

He rounds the next corner- but is brought to a halt. A girl comes flying at him, her body being propelled by short legs that are pumping hard. I try to shout out to the girl, to tell her to slow down, but my words are lost as both our bodies collide in one huge mess. Legs and arms go flying everywhere and I am tangled in the girl’s small body. Hastily I try to pull myself away, untangling my limbs from her own. We are on the ground and I climb to my feet, my hands dusting off the dark hoodie that I wore. Then I looked down at the girl, a smile slipping onto my lips. “Sorry ma’am. I tried to warn you, but you were like this rocket and you weren’t going to stop for anyone- not even a handsome fellow like myself.”