They Are Made From Lightning

FIVE (五)

a/n: some technical issues so i had to repost the chapter x

五

five

Chaos

The burly man barrelled through the door, heaving and panting. When he shouted at the vendor, Wu Xi, every pair of eyes turned to the commotion.

"Your fuckin' secrets got me into trouble, you stinkin' old limp! I paid to know the whereabouts of the asshole, but you didn't tell me that he had a horde of guards swamping him 24/7!"

Time hung out like clothes to dry, waiting, waiting. Thoughts raced through the minds of every patron. What would happen next? The Blood Moon Exchange was not well known for its warranty on goods and services sold. These were analysed on a case-by-case basis by the product specialist – Chaos himself.

The man strode towards the vendor. All trade was momentarily frozen.

The first thing he did when he reached Wu Xi's setup – merely two wooden chairs and a bag of his belongings – was to strike over the chair that sat vacant. A wooden leg tore apart from the frame, which went flying into the corner and skittered away.

And then he turned to the old man, raising a fist – who, despite the rage, merely sat there.

"You know why I didn't tell you that?" he said.

The burly man clamped his fingers around Wu Xi's collar and hoisted him up into the air with a single lift. The old man's skin seemed translucent – a thin, unprotective membrane. And yet, his face remained perfectly calm.

Wu Xi smiled tentatively, despite being held in something close to a chokehold. "Because you never paid for it, silly boy."

The man raised his other fist, knuckles pointed and dense. A punch from him would be as good as getting a brass knuckle in the face. He recoiled back, like a spring.

And then, with a grunt, he began to swing.

Suddenly, a hand cupped the man's fist, holding it back inches from the old man's face. It happened so swiftly, like a burst of wind. One moment, Chaos was in the corner, and the next, he was next to the man. He held the man's fist, teeth barred and predatory.

And the next moment – with a quick sleight of hand – Chaos smeared something that he was holding with his other hand onto over the back of the man's shirt. It blazed, a brilliant blue before transitioning into a bright orange flame. It ate at his shirt, equally tragic and arresting.

This was his castle, and those who arrived without an invitation were not welcome.

The man immediately loosened his hold on Wu Xi, and the old man slithered out of his grip, limp and sliding to the floor. His attention turned to the singeing back of his shirt, and he hopped around, attempting to fan out the flame.

Now, the boy came into focus from deep-sea to surface. Chaos stood in the light. He was tall, and his height nearly matched that of the burly man. But it was not a foreboding stature that spawned the sense of unease around him. It was about the way he carried himself. He walked like the ground was a servant.

The black tail coat he wore seemed to snake around his body.

Chaos wore an expression akin to that to a starless night – void, empty. He seemed to be solely focused on the burly man.

The fire had burned a hole in the back of the burly man's shirt. Blots of red skin, raw and rough, could be seen from where the shirt had been burnt off. And when the man had realised this, he was not happy. He threw both arms out at his sides, with a growl.

"Don't harass my vendors, or my customers," Chaos said.

The man ran at him.

Chaos eyed this watchfully.

With gritted teeth, the man hauled a punch right in Chaos's face. And yet, with a single hand, he caught the impact of it and held it there. Thunder shook the ground in the distance. The walls of the Blood Moon Exchange shook, and the dim lights flickered – an attempt to stay alive.

Then, the man tried his other hand, going right for Chaos's neck in an attempt to shatter a windpipe or two. But Chaos dipped out of the way, suddenly releasing the weight of the withheld punch.

The burly man tumbled forwards, tripping over his feet and crashing into a table full of forbidden technology. The vendor hopped out of the way, but not before wires, guts and organs of electrical appliances spewed in all directions.

Chaos stepped towards the man, baring a face full of menace. His coat splayed out behind him as he moved.

"One more time, if you couldn't hear me: get out."

Leaning amongst a pile of wiring, the man shook his head and regained a sense of consciousness. And then, as Chaos stood over him, he quickly thrust out a swift kick in the boy's direction, booting him in the shin.

There was a bam that ricocheted through the warehouse as it hit.

Chaos staggered back at the jolt, with a grimace of pain. Something about the night cleared that night. Something about the air changed. Time and time again, Chaos had allowed the man chances to escape – in his opinion, that was – and yet the man hadn't grasped a single opportunity. He reached down, and pulled up his trousers, revealing the welts peppered over his shin. The burly man's face was riddled with confusion – of course, he would be thinking: did his single kick cause that? But Chaos allowed him an awful moment to study his leg – the way the scars weren't glowing scarlet or pulsating like a new wound. The skin was grafted, uneven and veiny. As if his body had tried to salvage the flesh, hastily growing new chunks of flesh to replace what had been badly scorched off.

These were old burn wounds. Blisters.

And the man had just kicked Chaos's scars.

Now he'd really pissed Chaos off.

Chaos stood over him, allowing the sight to sink in. And then he pulled back a punch, and shot it right into the middle of the man's face. The man hadn't even the time to react – a deafening crack resounded. And another, and another. The scene before them was immutable – painted in red, smelling of something metallic. And in the midst of it all, Chaos, the blood artist.

He bent over to the man when he was done.

"Don't. Come. Back."

The man fumbled with his own fingers, and rubbed his blood-splattered face with grimy, hairy palms. And then, with gazes peeled on him, he wiped himself off with his collar before swaying dizzily as he stood up.

            Chaos went to the old man and offered him a hand, pulling him up and patting his ruffled shirt down for him. The whites of the man's eyes were wide, and he still struggled to catch his breath. Although he said nothing, his eyes were as dark and off-kilter as a night sky with no stars.

           Chaos almost felt his heart in his chest, and stared somewhere into the distance.

As business went back to normal, the door creaked open and a figure dressed like a ghost in a white trench coat slipped into the warehouse, unnoticed. 

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A/N: hello hello a bit of an early update so please enjoy and tell me ur thoughts! love u all and see on the flip side x

x C