[identity profile] bringeroflight.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] zg_shadows
"Where's that fucking music coming from?"

The slaves panic, running from room to room. The punk rock tune is blasting through the entire building, resonating off the glass and impossible to escape . . . impossible to track down. They know their master will kill scores of them for this later, but the faster the music ends, the more chance each of them has for survival.

As five or six of the armed security men turn a corner, they spot an open window, curtains billowing in. A thin, pale figure in a black hockey jersey crouches, about to jump...

"Freeze!"

He looks up, and grins.

"Oh no. Quite the opposite..."

The music crescendos; "Coming at you on a count of . . . one, two"

The man leaps backwards, pirouetting neatly in a perfect arc. The monster's slaves reach for their weapons to fire and . . .

"One-Two-Three-Four"

Fire blossoms.

Date: 2010-01-26 08:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ksirafai.livejournal.com
Saint Jimmy.

Come back to Fortress Assamite. We need you... :)

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