Oh Holy Night [Alexander]

The street lights had dimmed down, flickering on and off with the faint hum that came from electricity and the bugs that floated around, moths and mosquitoes, attracted to the lights and the hum that came from it. It was an silent time of night, the streets were empty and the city seemed to be taking a breath before it roused itself from the dark depresses of night with the violence and the screaming voices of those shoved to the poverty line.

Those that were out and about fell into two distinct categories, those rushing home under the cover of night and those that had been roused early for jobs in the city, faces drawn and sullen as they did their jobs. The day was shaping up to be a day that would be overcast, cloudy, something that would irritate the moods of people all across the board simply because of the incessant rain that had plagued the city. There was a single figure that moved through the streets, looking like they belonged yet still mildly out of place, unable to vouch if it was truly a male or female that walked, the face was covered and the movements seemed too heavy for a female.

Boots clomped on the sidewalk, leaving no trail and ignoring the trash that had accumulated and not yet been blown off, the baseball cap pulled down low over the face, shielding it from something. Clothing was no help in identifying the gender, baggy pants and a loose jacket zipped up to the chin. Not that it was truly cold out, there was a slight chill in the air though not enough to warrant the full leather jacket. People spared a single look over their shoulders as she moved along, in no seeming hurry before workers and those heading home turned back to their paths.

Tech knew no one would bother to remember her face, her platinum hair dyed black for this moment. Her contact had long since come out, revealing the bi-colored irises that dominated her face and the moment of which she struck into her victims’ souls. Her jacket was zipped up to conceal the blood dried on her white shirt, some unlucky man trying to interfere with her, imposing and touching and grabbing. The lithe woman had spared him no second glance as she allowed him to drag her into an alley way.

That of course had been his downfall, thinking she was some floozy or hooker that couldn’t defend herself. To his chagrin and eventual death, she knew what she was doing. It only took a short amount of time, but he had not been able to scream nor summon help. Forgotten alleys in cities always had something. A broken bottle, piece of piping, a rock. Regardless, there was nothing left behind except the corpse and it lay there broken and bleeding until it was found. No one would ever suspect the woman was behind it, he had no money and no possessions left on him so it simply looked like a robbery gone bad. Which is how she preferred it, leaving no trace and instead simply floating through.

Something did catch her attention, stopping suddenly and turning her head just enough that all that could be seen was one blue eye as she peered down an alleyway, almost like she saw something others couldn’t or heard something no one else could. Fluidly changing course to go down the alley way, not moments later police in their cars with the sirens and lights roared by, making her tighten her shoulders at the sudden intrusion to her thoughts, hating the annoyance it provided. Yet she did not go back to the street, instead continuing down the maze of alleys as if she owned the place and perhaps, in her mind, she did.

Uncertainty beckoned.

There, in that place between tall towers within a maze of brick and metal which he stood, lay before him the corpse of a man once living, once a school teacher, once a father, once a husband, once a rapist, now dead. Alexander stood there in the presence of such a man and he stared down at him as though a beautiful sunrise or the northern lights or the ocean at twilight and he stared. There was much blood; the contorted and convoluted state of this man was such that the manner in which his death had come had been lost in the repeated bludgeonings that ultimately ferried him to whatever lay waiting for him in hell.

Going up was not an option.

It was a disaster area.

The young girl that sat shivering nearby remained unsure as to whether or be thankful or afraid. Though Alexander had saved her from the fate of a temporary sex slave and possibly becoming as that man on the floor, the manner of which salvation was given was such that her humanity was called to intercede. Had this man, this Alexander, done a deed far less gruesome, far less bloody, far less violent, such a fear would perhaps not present itself. But her eyes saw it all; the struggle, the blood, the eternal moments that lasted but mere seconds and brought about the death of a man who, although well deserving of his punishment, suffered greatly and perhaps even after, when Alexander continued to pour forth his wrath on the lifeless meat. Yet no matter how hard she strove to fight the truths that festered about, it was all too obvious; a wicked man was killed for the sake of a life more innocent yet she could not help the sympathy.

She ran.

When she was able to take hold of her thoughts for longer then a mere moment she took such flight toward a place of safer sanctuary. As her steps faded in the distance like a shout proclaimed from the tops of the highest mountains, Alexander knelt downward before the presence of this shell of man once living, once a school teacher, once a father, once a husband, once a rapist, now dead. What remained of the man's eyes seemed to stare back into Alexander's own and Alexander shouted as he quickly and abruptly stood to his feet.

"Death and Destruction are before Lord!" With a great voice he proclaimed, "How much more the hearts of men! And yet you ask why! Why!" And his voice became quieter, like that of a whisper spoken in a silent place as he inclined his countenance closer to that of the corpse, "Because you have laid in wait for the blood of the innocent to swallow them whole like the very pits of Hell."

Alexander turned and looked upward at the still night side sky.

"How you are fallen... The whole world lies under your sway."

His eyes fell downward to the image of one approaching, perhaps even lurking in the corners or in the shadows or in plain sight, one of who has come upon them, both he and the dead man, and he stared at this figure unmoving, indifferent, as though a statue. Yet in his mind, the ever coursing discord that did not cease to bring forth it's dystrophy played it's usual song of crashing memories, thoughts, images, fabrications, realities, fires, drownings, and in the midst there was one who stood taller and it too watched these three from a place unseen by the eyes of men.

She didn’t even flinch, dressed as she was when the girl ran by her, easily dodging her and sliding her hands into her pockets. She heard the voices now, relieved it had not been a figment of her imagination that she’d heard this time. Her footsteps were still silent, figure bobbing and weaving to and fro in the shadows, not quite hiding but not quite revealing the outline fully yet. The only part that seemed to show was the white of her skin around her eyes, the rest of her face tucked behind a jacket and the baseball cap pulled down low over her face, plastering her black hair to the back of her neck.

Feet never stopped moving, one in front of the other as she avoided with effortless ease the bottles and garbage in the alley way, rats squeaking and scurrying in the wake of her passing as she kept moving forward, ignoring the figures now that she was certain it was not something from the recesses of her mind. Tech took the scene in with emotionless, doll like eyes before flicking them forward, aware of her surroundings as if things would suddenly spring to life and attack her. Always on edge, always on guard. It was never part of her to simply focus on one solitary thing at a time. That led to death and downfall. As it was such, she could hear the girl retreating to the street, her feet echoing and the trail behind her scattered and out of place.

Tech paused shortly before the junction ended, taking in the scene in front of her, studying it, filing away minute details to remember and record later. Details were important, they let her know if the one in front of her would be a problem at some point, not that she ever stayed long in one place if she wasn’t hunting. Los Angeles was certainly a cesspool of possibilities. Anyone that piqued her interest was a target if she couldn’t figure them out shortly. Those that had families were of particular interest because children relied on instant gratification and members of the family to act. Otherwise they were about as fun to kill as a pet.

It wasn’t until she finally let her eyes settle on the only living human in the alley that she tilted her head just slightly to the side, her blue iris glinting briefly in the light that filtered through as the sun was rising rapidly through the concrete jungle, but it would be a while before it actually managed to reveal the shadows surrounding this area. It would not be long before the bodies were discovered and Tech did not plan to be here when this particular body was discovered. Surely the girl had reached some police officer by now, some pig that would help her or kill her. Dependent upon who truly did sign their paycheck.

She was curious about the male in front of her, for that’s what she could tell he was, and her curiosity never truly boded well for anyone unless you were a lucky one that bored her. Then you lived your life without ever knowing she existed, however the male in front of her was a curiosity that she wanted to explore, to pick apart, starting with his quotes.

Silence beckoned.

There was naught but the movement of air, the odd car passing every so often from the streets not far off, and the rats that scurried to and fro. Alexander simply kept those eyes upon her, eyes that sunk deep yet they saw only what was in front of him and nothing more; only what was in front of him and much more.

Yet Alexander was unmoved.

Staring deeper still into a place of darkness and thoughts, like a statue he stood before him or perhaps her or perhaps even it. It made no difference to Alexander at this point who he or she or it was for he knew that he or she or it was simply another fragment; a part of himself gone awry or perhaps taking it's intended course or perhaps even not a part of him at all and yet he remained unmoved by such things.

"That's right, this one is a lie too." Spoke a whisper heard throughout, spoke a whisper heard, and a whisper heard by Alexander only and Alexander considered the truth found therein. Curious, unabashed, unmoved, uncaring, unconcerned for the body of the man laid dead behind him; was he or she or it real or was he or she or it a lie? It had to be a lie, she had to be, he was indeed.

But the body.

He dared not turn to look upon the body.

Was it there?

Was it ever there?

Like the snow, had it simply vanished from it's place?

The questions clawed a conflict into the deeper recesses of his mind, the crags of his soul, and the fragments of what heart had been left behind and yet he considered not to simply turn and look upon that which would bring an ease, temporary as such an ease may be, to the ever raging chaos that was still and would ever be.

All was silent,

All was still,

Not for Alexander.

Alexander was silent,

Alexander was still,

His eyes remained upon her.

Silence beckoned.

She wouldn’t have moved, had it not been for the sounds echoing behind her. There were sounds, noises something that reached her ears. Never once shifting her gaze from the figure in front of her, Tech tilted her head a bit to locate the sounds better, calculating, ever calculating as she figured out her escape route, deciding to leave out before the police arrived. From the faint sounds and ruckus happening, she could tell the police had just entered the maze of alley ways that connected between the buildings.

Tech stepped forward, skirting around the young male in front of her, moving on as if she had never seen him nor what was once the body of a man. She didn’t care, not at all and was perfectly content to pretend he had never existed, as she did with the majority of people surrounding her. She wanted to disappear again and avoid any confrontation. She was still covered in the evidence of her previous misdeed and she did not want to take credit for the misdeed of someone else. The man that was bloodied she did not care for or about him otherwise there would have been an interest taken in him and he would have been hauled off somewhere.

Footsteps were more hurried and the faint chatter of voices and radios could be heard and Tech knew she had to hurry, pick up her silent footsteps to disappear down a side track, hiding in the shadows behind a dumpster to hide and think before she moved on again, hopefully ditching the boy and the body as well as the police. At the very least she had to get rid of the shirt. The dumpster at least provided a cover for her as she unzipped the jacked and pulled it off, revealing the truly androgynous figure as she pulled off the bloodied wife beater, tossing it down into the dumpster before sliding the jacket back on.

She stood up shortly after that, deciding to head down farther and avoid anyone else, knowing her shirt would not be found immediately and even then, there were enough contaminants to not be able to identify her from the shirt. That was always her primary concern, solid evidence because witnesses mistook things, they didn’t remember details and anyone could have done something while dressed as another individual. Tech took pride in being able to mimic other looks while keeping her body in the prime peak of perfection and her ever changing hair color managed to keep her from ever giving a positive identification along with the colored contacts hiding the true nature of her irises. It was all about secrets.

Alexander followed.

Like a wandering mongrel or a child separated from his mother, Alexander's steps mirrored that of this figure who so callously walked past such a scene that would otherwise strike fright into the hearts of a more sane being. His steps, however similar, were kept at a distance held cautious, safe, for he did not yet know the mettle of such a one as this and thus his eyes remained upon this one from afar.

It was not until he came to a bend in the corner when he stopped and he stood and he watched once more with eyes that analyzed the very nature of her being. In the cover of shadows, Alexander beheld but a silhouette undressing itself and, as though a video played in reverse, it dressed itself once more though an action quickly forgotten yet quickly noticed went missing. It was then that Alexander was thoroughly convinced; this one and him were one in the same.

Now Alexander took a step more bold and followed closer. His demeanor was such that he was uncaring if he or she or it noticed or not or if others noticed or not. It was simply a matter of determining where he or she or it was going; there, perhaps in that place he or she or it called refuge there would be answers to questions yet thought up, a solace from the chaos, a comfort longer lasting then temporary and he simply followed unaware that the advent of questions yet thought up was a coin bearing two sides.

But there was a hindrance.

The snow began to fall once again.

Such a snow came beside a biting cold and the cold itself was more then this. He hesitated at first; stifled words that refused to release themselves in wake of this torrential downpour of white that covered the gray of the city like a thick blanket but somehow, someway, his willingness garnered a greater strength that compelled and overcame like that of a raging fire held back by a mere drop of water.

"Aren't you cold?" Soft words spoken smoothly yet touched by an air of much conflict. There was yet to be anybody else in these streets and thus his voice would be heard in the midst of this snow and yet Alexander hadn't the faintest of clues that this one's eyes, this entity unknown, this he or she or it, could not see such snow for it was his snow and nobody else's; his snow and his alone.

Tech never once batted an eye, sliding a gaze behind her to regard the figure that had followed. It was a natural reaction to follow someone that gave no response to a scene that was present and instead she responded with no words, watching the masked figure with a callous look that showed she did not care for him or his responses nor did she have the time or drive to bother with it. That was how she viewed the mask, as an object, a toy, a pawn that she would choose to either move or forget in her little game. Everyone was there for her amusement and her toys and her plots however she felt no drive at the moment to do anything except keep walking.

Slender fingers withdrew a rectangular box from her pocket and flipped open the top, revealing a package of cigarettes. With drawing one and holding it between her lips before flicking the lighter on and revealing the flame to light up her face under the hat and above the collar of her jacket, casting more of an eerie light to it than anything. She watched him, holding the lighter in her hands after exhaling the smoke around the cigarette before letting the flame die. She knew better than to make a move towards him, something that would play out eventually in her mind.

Eyes shifted again to look at the dumpster as she withdrew the shirt from under it before holding the lighter up again, the faint click and hiss of the flame springing to life as she responded in her own way to his query by lighting the shirt ablaze. It didn’t bother her, the sudden springing to life of flames as she shirt was consumed quickly once the blaze had a stable hold and suddenly she threw it towards him. If he was cold, she would warm him up. There was always the issue of him burning to death if he held the shirt or was that much of an idiot, but her evidence of her previous transgression would never be found.

With the sudden movement of throwing the shirt, she turned again, moving quickly through the scarce shadows, checking doors for an open one, and upon finding one, slipping through the opening and shutting the door behind her and locking it. It would not do to be found and followed by someone now. It was time to go.

Alexander watched as this one, this he or she or it, went through such motions with a seemingly genuine disregard for both his inquiry and the snow. Her every movement was foreign to him though in each step and in each breath there was a measure of intimacy weaved deeper therein; maybe she was real, maybe she was fake, maybe she was both, or maybe Alexander simply wished for this one to be so real that he unknowingly deemed her a part of himself.

It made no difference in the end.

In the passing of a quicker moment he or she or it was gone and in their wake was left behind a smoldering cloth hurtling in Alexander's direction. Though such a present danger would strike alarm, caution, and perhaps even the words "turn around," and "run," from a place secret from all but him he did no such thing and no such defenses had struck. When at long last that fire fell upon his chest and he remained there, standing as it struck his body and then quickly fell upon the ground at his feet as though an offering given to king and yet Alexander did not burn for such a kiss was all too brief; much too brief.

Pain did not present itself.

Not yet.

But thereafter, when Alexander looked down upon those fiery whips that burned hot against the cool of the dark and his feet, when he knelt before it as though it had been his first eye's gaze into such a sight, that he felt that searing pain sink deep into the palms of his hands and down more. When the thoughts and the doubts sunk inward and provoked him to act against the orange threat that dare challenge the snow and yet as much as anger had filled him, there was sorrow, and he uttered a single word, "No."

His hands took hold of the smolder and he crushed it therein to death between his own palms. The ashes fell unto the pure white snow as the streams of gray smoke rose upward to the very heavens and yet there was no pain from the flames, not yet, but after. As he looked upon the charred remains of what had been burning, Alexander lamented within himself. As much as anger and sorrow had filled him because of the flames pursuit to burn away the snow, the same sorrow and anger filled him because of it's death.

Reality beckoned.

The snow quickly melted away into nothingness as though washed by a turbulent rain.

The gray of the city became apparent yet again; all was as it was.

Then there was pain.

Alexander looked unto his trembling hands swollen red from the flames and he knew then that he had woken from his sleep. Charred skin opened his eyes to the world of concrete and metal, a world of which he sought both escape from and refuge within and he yelled out, into the heavens, with a great cry that was heard throughout and he wept for the snow. Not for the deep rooted aching that went up from his palms to his shoulders did he weep nor for the stinging, sharp, and pulsing stabs of the burn, for such pains were meaningless, weak; added nuances to the greater shades that pressed upon his every waking breath.

There was silence.

There was not.

Tech was smart enough to know that waiting was the important game. She had vast amounts of patience and was content to sit inside her new perch and wait, listening. She lit up another cigarette, letting the smell of tobacco curl around her and infest her skin and hair and clothes as she crouched down, feeling the dirt and grime of the city settle over her as she inhaled from the cigarette, clutching it between slender fingers and pulling it away, sucking down the air to chase the nicotine before exhaling and watching the smoke curl away from her, watching it curl around the room.

She was content to lay in wait until the male left or until she was certain the cops would not find her, either way, it was not her mess to deal with at the moment. It was his and he could deal with it on his own and in his own way. She had no want or need for him. So she played the waiting game. Those who did not have patience or the skills necessary for this game were bound to fail and rush out headlong, finding out the hard way that it was how they would fail. They learned slowly and had to learn on their own, rather than learning by watching others as Tech had done her life.

She counted time in her head, really though it was nothing more than her version of counting, she gave no mind to real time other than sunrise and sunset, and was content to drift through as one would expect a tumbleweed to do, except this tumbleweed had more ominous intentions about her and as such, she would do what she pleased and when she pleased it, no mere mortal allowing her to be told what to do as she would happily do whatever it was she wanted simply to spite others. There was something surrounding her, a cold vacuum of air that seemed to suck the joy and laughter from others down into a soul as black as any hell and just as damned as Judas was on that day he was born. The only difference was Tech embraced it.
She loved being damned to a Hell of her own making by those surrounding her.
It just meant they were weaker.
Inferior.
Playthings for her.
It was a grim smile that broke her lips then as she flicked the cigarette away, grinding it to a powder beneath her bootheel before unlocking the door and sliding it open a crack, leaning in the doorway, watching and waiting as always. Like the hunter.

There was blood on his own hands; he did not know it.

Such blood was not easily grasped without consequence and such consequence fell upon his lap now and he stood there. Bright lights as that of the sun pressed upon him heavily yet such lights were false fabrications of a truer light yet such a light was not present therein yet. Regardless, there stood around him several and they called to him with words of warning saying "Raise your arms," and "Don't move," and with every shout there grew a greater tension in the midst of men and guns.

Now Alexander looked upon these with eyes scorched with scorn and contempt, for such lights were far too bright and far too false for his comprehension and yet he did not hate them but he did not heed their words.

"Have you come down from your tower?" Alexander called out with a loud voice, as that of a shout; a shout to the very heavens, "Oh you Watchers! Have you come down from that great place of yours unto the world of men and dust?!" And the false light overtook all, and their shouts overtook all, for there was white all around and nothing more but the stone wall behind him and the all encompassing brightness before him.

And yet in his hand was held no weapon of greater threat but that of a rod of iron and it was held tightly for he knew the mettle of men and how those such as these sought to overtake him in violence. And yet these did not advance, not yet, as he stood there watching their silhouettes before bright lights in a place where all was white.

"Have you heard the cries of men at last? Or have you come to bring greater desolation?"

Tech idly listened to the chatter of the people around. She knew better than to emerge, instead taking the time to create cuts on her own body. Shallow but they bled enough for her to smear on her clothing and face, pretending to play victim of circumstance and paint the other as a madman. She was untouchable, no one could bring her down. None of them would doubt her story, should she have to tell one. The door was locked and shut, no way could they come in and would they think that anyone in this building would have anything to do with what went on outside. However, the sociopath prepared for any emergency that might arise, careful to keep her movements silent.

She lay in waiting, simply watching and listening to the movements outside, silent as death should be. No movement, no noise arose from her, it was almost impossible to tell she was alive save for the faintest of breaths her body allowed and the slow, steady beating of a heart. To some, she was only a statue. To others, a snake that lay in wait for prey, never once moving and never giving away her position. The androgynous human simply stayed silent as she waited, watching the lights filter in and she could hear the radios go off.

Tech simply shifted her weight, walking down to sit next to the door, in the event they did come in. It was better for her if she were to hide here, setting the trap and letting the bait be scented. The male outside would not know what happened, he was an interesting toy, something to use and to exploit and explore. He would never be able to match her in any way, she knew that already. He was awkward, broken, and without any form of a discipline. He would have use, that much she knew. Now it was about manipulating.

"Peg him!" They shouted with a great voice.

Immediately then did he feel the slight and subtle pain of several objects, as soft stones, striking his body. The pain was no concern, though he knew well that he was being attacked by these whom he has deemed "Watchers."

There were many,

Far too many,

And it was much too soon.

Alexander ran.

He did not know where, or why, for these were of no greater mettle then his own and yet he choose to flee rather then to fight, as though he knew that such a course was all the more wiser. And yet in the back of his mind he considered the possibility; these were not Watchers at all.

His steps took him to a door.

That door.

And it did not open for him.

It would not open for him.

As much as his fists struck upon the surface of that door, it's locks would not shatter and it's tenacity would not break. Unyielding was the nature of it's being, as unyielding as that of a flame let loose to it's own destructive will. Were it not for his sheer desperation driven by some unknown leading that beckoned him to run, to escape, to survive, there would be no turbulent breaking of this door, for indeed, that door broke open and therein he saw none, though there was another hidden within.

Alexander saw her not,

But he did,

With sheer disregard for her being did he run past her, through the confines of these walls, and to a window on the other side where he saw safety beyond the glass, in that place where metal met stone in perfect gray harmony. Behind, not far yet not close at all, he heard their calls and their footsteps coming ever so close, and closer still, to the point of which turning, and even staying still for yet another second would lead him to their clutches. No, he did not turn and he did not stay still for one more second before crashing through that window and going forth to that place of greater safety.