Thanatos quivered with excitement. It'd been too long. Too long since he'd felt the boxy little gun buck in his hand. Too long since he'd watched the lumps of lead thudding into chest cavities and limbs and skulls. Too long he'd been told to sit still, to do nothing. "Conserve energy," they'd said, "wait until we call." And the calls never came.
He was mad at them - mad at the Dragomir who told him there was a huge battle coming. Mad at the Hounds who told him he'd have all the shooting and maiming and harm he could handle. He'd waited. He'd followed the rules, and they should have let him have someone to shoot. They hadn't. Thanatos was not, however, the kind of person to hold a grudge - he was a problem solver! If they would not play with him, he would solve the problem by going to play with THEM. What a wonderful idea!
Then they'd have to play with him.
Thanatos checked the mechanism of his sleek, matte-black automatic weapon, as well as the pistol fitting snugly against his side. The holster wiggled oddly, the ripple traveling from the leather across his midsection and up his chest. Like the rest of his outfit, the holster was simply a molding of his flesh, and he tended to lose control of it when he got excited. The guns were prepped, though, each chamber holding a round of its own, and knew it was time.
Stepping out of the door, he heard Cisava whispering in his ear, and he smiled. It was odd how Cisava talked to him so much when she was nowhere around. Sometimes, when he saw her again, he would ask her about the things she said when she wasn't there, and she pretended she didn't know. It was an odd game, but Cisava was beautiful and smart, and he was sure it was a good game.
Thanatos ran across the street, ducking into the crowded cybercafe. There were so many vampires and so few humans, going about their boring business of politics and words. They didn't even notice as he hefted the gun to his side and pulled the trigger, choking a stream of lead across the lines of people. Monitors shattered, chairs tumbled, and lead tunneled through anything it met. There were sickly thunks as the metal pieces impacted with arms, legs, and chests, ripping holes in them each before catching in the solid wood of the walls. Thanatos' thin, pale lips peeled back from angular teeth in a gleeful, boyish grin. Oh, it was so beautiful.
The hammer clicked on an empty chamber, and he popped the magazine from its catch as he stepped back through the doorway, covering his exit. He grabbed another mag from his pocket and slammed it into place, sprinting up the street to the next building he knew vampires to frequent. Stepping through the door, he repeated the assault, stopping as the line of projectiles crossed a vampire he faintly knew as Echo. She was one of the Grigori, that loud talky bloodline he'd heard people describing. Two rounds caught her below the waist, turning her inner thighs a sickening crimson. Just as the red flowers blossomed, taking Thana's breath away once again, the gun chattered to a stop. The telltale "krnk" sound of the chamber jamming drew his eye from the carnage in front of him, and the briefest look of irritation crossed his pale face. He tossed the worthless tool over his shoulder, stepping back out the door and drawing the pistol from his waist.
A quick glance around him oriented the Shadow to the nearest sewer entrance, and he strode his way to it, pistol bucking now and again to deliver shots to vampires he recognized as he passed. A few humans noticed, but they were very few and far between. He had practiced being silent and inconspicuous during the time he'd been forced to sit passively, and it paid off as he strode past bodies exploding with near-silent bullet fire, movements no more telling than if he'd passed them a note. The grating leading down to the sewer was already partially open, as this was the most popular pathway to the dwellings within. One kick pushed the heavy metal disc to the side, and Thanatos hopped down into the darkness, its edges swallowing the sharp cut of his suit completely.
* * * * *
The dwelling was quiet, simply-lit, with black leather couches and a red scorpion etched into the floor. Not a single sound echoed through the walls as Thanatos' dark suit faded through the closed door, simply melting into existence on the inside like a bad CGI effect from the movies. He noticed Scorpia's form reclining on one of the couches near him, and he grinned widely. He said he would play with her at least once before he went, and he held his word. (To be honest, he was such a simple being that it didn't occur to him to do otherwise.)
Summoning the last of his energy, Thanatos raised his arms toward the ceiling. A white tear appeared in the middle of his black tie, and his suit split down the front. The plastic-seeming flesh peeled back, and his chest cavity was exposed - a seething mass of dark matter wrapping around a bleached white skeleton in some mockery of muscle. The shadows rose from his chest and curled around one arm, which he threw toward Scorpia. The tendrils snapped forward, searching her out, but at the last minute she noticed and managed to evade them, staring at him harshly. Sidling over to the other couch, Thanatos sat down in it heavily, tired.
"Hello, Scorpia," he said by way of greeting, a smile on his face. There was no malice behind it. It sounded for all the world as if he were greeting a friend, having just given her a warm embrace. He rested his head back against the couch, settling into its cushions. He'd hurt enough of them. He'd gotten to play at long last, and they would be coming to play with him in return. He might get off a few lucky shots at the end, but Thanatos had no delusions about what would come soon behind. He didn't welcome it. It was simply the lesser of two evils.