Post by IZAYA WILLIAMS on Apr 23, 2014 17:32:29 GMT -5
Smoke drifted up and ash fell to the ground. Izaya crouched hunched over in the smoke room. Currently he was alone, which was probably for the best. People meant trouble, especially in the Smoke Room. With no guards around to keep the peace, all hell could easily break loose and nobody could do a thing about it. That's why he wanted to take control of this area, claim it for his own. A slice of escape in the midst of a sea of shattered freedom. Just to have a little area to call his own, where he was king. Truly that was all he had ever wanted though, from the very beginning. People never liked that though, they accepted the tyrannical oppression of the government, their word was law, and just because he fought that, Izaya was automatically a vigilante, a crook, an enemy of the state. Izaya dreamt of ruling places like this, of controlling cities with the promise of legitimate freedom, and not the psuedo-freedom the presses sold to the public - none of that bullshit.
"And if dreams and wishes were pie, there would be no hunger in the world..."
Izaya sighed and blew out a long puff of smoke. A light tap from his finger caused ash to fall from the end of his cigarette, and a spark to bounce off. The man waited for a moment for the spark to dwindle in brightness before causing it to suddenly explode with a stunning light. Resonance. It was a simple word that made people assume he was cooperative, which made for hilarious situations when they found out about his true nature. Just simply resonating with the light around him allowed for anything from a light glow in the dark, to bright flashes of light, or even sudden patches of darkness. And that was only a fraction of his power.
Izaya stood and flicked the cigarette into a corner. In all honesty, he was surprised he hadn't been executed right then and there for the atrocious acts he committed on Red Saturday. He had heard them too, the cops, 'why don't we just shoot him and be done with it', 'what about the press' 'screw the press' etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. They had babbled on for what felt like a week, but eventually decided to just throw him into jail. But then again, had they thrown him in? Or had Izaya allowed himself to be caught. If he could do something of such magnitude to a group of people that size, what were three more cops? You had to ask yourself these kinds of things.
Taking another cigarette out, Izaya rubbed his finger across the end, resonating with the friction created to caused a spike of heat large enough to cause the cigarette to light. A fraction. There was so much more he could do, he just needed a few more followers again...
"And if dreams and wishes were pie, there would be no hunger in the world..."
Izaya sighed and blew out a long puff of smoke. A light tap from his finger caused ash to fall from the end of his cigarette, and a spark to bounce off. The man waited for a moment for the spark to dwindle in brightness before causing it to suddenly explode with a stunning light. Resonance. It was a simple word that made people assume he was cooperative, which made for hilarious situations when they found out about his true nature. Just simply resonating with the light around him allowed for anything from a light glow in the dark, to bright flashes of light, or even sudden patches of darkness. And that was only a fraction of his power.
Izaya stood and flicked the cigarette into a corner. In all honesty, he was surprised he hadn't been executed right then and there for the atrocious acts he committed on Red Saturday. He had heard them too, the cops, 'why don't we just shoot him and be done with it', 'what about the press' 'screw the press' etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. They had babbled on for what felt like a week, but eventually decided to just throw him into jail. But then again, had they thrown him in? Or had Izaya allowed himself to be caught. If he could do something of such magnitude to a group of people that size, what were three more cops? You had to ask yourself these kinds of things.
Taking another cigarette out, Izaya rubbed his finger across the end, resonating with the friction created to caused a spike of heat large enough to cause the cigarette to light. A fraction. There was so much more he could do, he just needed a few more followers again...
