Dying Flame

Agni leans against a wall outside of town, holding a small match in his hand. Any second, he could ignite it, and wash the hotel in a glorious blaze, leaving nothing but the basic support left standing. He was ready for a fight, but was far from willing to pick one until he was ordered to. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, pulling a hard drag. He can't die, so he might as well enjoy himself, he figures.

Agni stood straight and made his way towards the local bar, Jean Leffite's. As he opens the door, the strong smell of death surrounds him. To any mortal, it seemed like a normal bar. But in an immortals eyes, it was a hell house, bred for meetings of some of the underworlds overlords. Lucifer told him that he was to meet somebody, though he didn't give a name, nor a description. Taking a seat in the far right corner of the bar, Agni waits for his contact. Perhaps a drink or two will help the time pass.

The sky was dim on this day. The sun was blocked out by pollution and thick rain clouds, threatening the city with rain. People didn’t seem to notice, however, and carried about with their everyday activities. The streets were filled with people making their way to work. Some carried briefcases. Some struggled to walk in overly high high-heels. Many talked on their phones as they rushed. None noticed how different Lizard was.

On this day, Lizard walked down the sidewalk. He wore a black hoodie that he had taken after the store clerk had run from the sight of him. He wore black athletic pants that provided a maximum flexibility for him. His tail was tucked away into the back of his hoodie, but if one were to look carefully, they would see a bulge where his spine was. He wore old, beaten-up sneakers, covered in dust from his travels. The left one had a hole in the tip, but it wasn’t yet large. He could go a little longer without coming up with some money to pay for shoes, or having to steal them. He also wore a black bandana to cover most of his face, so that the only visible part of him was the area around his eyes. Lizard kept his head down so it would be difficult to see his only open area of skin. His gloved hands stayed in his hoodie pockets as he walked with the crowd, keeping a nice pace.

He felt a rumble in his stomach. It had been a while sense he had eaten. He looked up a little bit, enough to see a hot dog stand a few blocks down. He ducked his head down to avoid giving away his cover. He felt around in the pocket of his athletic pants and pulled out a few bills. He had four dollars to his name. He sighed. Soon, Lizard would have to come up with some more money if he wanted to eat again.
He reached the hot dog stand and slid his four dollars to the man running the operation. Through pointing, because he didn’t want to talk, he received two hot dogs with the works, excluding mustard and pickles. Why anyone would waste a good hot dog by adding mustard and pickles to it, he would never understand. He continued to walk, looking for a good place to unmask and eat.

Through quick glances, he noticed a bar. He ducked inside, barely making a sound as he entered. The bar was musky, but it was nice and dark. People would have a hard time seeing his mouth as he quickly ate. And besides, it would be nice to eat at a table for a change. He walked to the far left corner of the bar. Two men sat there in suits discussing important business matters. Lizard walked over to their table, grabbed an extra chair, and slid it to the corner. He then slid the table close enough to place his hot dogs in arms reach of him. One man began to protest, but Lizard slid his bandana to his neck and looked up. The man stopped speaking, appalled by his face. Both man stood and quickly walked out the door. Lizard sighed to himself. He began eating one of his hot dogs, enjoying the warmth it brought to his mouth. He glanced at the drinks the men had left behind. One was alcoholic. Lizard decided to not touch it. The other glass was full to the brim with ice water. He smiled widely. He took a big gulp of the refreshing water and released a sigh of relief. He kept his awareness levels up, but he was beginning to enjoy his small meal.

Agni parted ways with the informant. After an unsightly reject interrupted the two, Agni was pissed. While first thought would have been to burn the bar down, he had orders, and would rather not die over his own aggression. He walked back into the bar and paid the bartender.

Agni spent two hours walking through the cold streets of New Orleans. Would-Be vampires stalked the dark streets, and entertainers earned a nights meal in front of old shops and houses. One man, a young traveler retelling stories of his adventures, had a crowd gathered around him. He spoke of distant lands, and of places beyond belief. Agni knew better than to listen to his lies, but one story had piqued his interest.

The traveller spoke of a demon he had encountered in the moors of England. A man with the skin and tail of a lizard, though the body shape was human. He claimed to have fled, but eventually captured and nearly killed by the creature. He narrowly escaped. Agni threw the man a $20 and walked on.

Around midnight, Agni arrived at on of the many cemetaries dotting the city. He sighed and lit his small pipe, the fumes of cannabis piercing the air. Now, he thought, it was a waiting game.

Lizard's feet pounded as he ran at nearly two hundred miles per hour. He had a pocket full of cash and a new pocket knife. Allow me to catch you up to speed.

After he had eaten in peace, he left the bar. He had walked down the street a few blocks before hearing a commotion in a dark side-street. Deciding he had literally nothing to lose and everything to gain, he walked down the dark area. The street smelled musky to him, as if animals crawled in here to die. He thought to himself that if he found something recently dead, he'd cook and eat it. But instead, he found something much better.

As he turned a corner, he saw five men surrounding one. Two of the men were holding the one man, while one stood in front of him, holding out a pocket knife. The other two goons watched, gawking at the scene. The smell of urine and fecal matter hit Lizard's nose. Slowly, he sighed.

Then, like a bullet out of a gun, he charged the group. Before anyone could react, Lizard grabbed the knife out of the mugger's hand while smacking him with his tail. The man went flying into a brick wall. Continuing with his momentum, Lizard charged a goon, stabbing him in the stomach with the pocket knife. This was when the other goons began to realize what was happening. With dumbfounded looks, they ran away. Lizard turned in time to see them doing so and bolted after them. He easily caught up with them, stabbing one in the back of the neck as he did so. The thug fell instantly, decapitated from the inside. Utilizing a jumping roundhouse, Lizard sent the closest goon skywards. The goon flew at least two stories before crashing down to earth. He decided to let the last one go. Quickly, he looted the dead and ran for his life as fast as he could.

Now, he was at a graveyard. He wasn't winded at all, not tired in the least bit. He also felt no remorse for what he had done. He had done the right thing, he felt, no matter how brutal. Maybe the encounter would encourage other street gangs to stop mugging random people.

Lizard looked around at his surroundings. The graveyard was foggy as was the rest of the town, providing a true Louisiana feeling that people living outside of Louisiana like to think of it being. Through the light fog, he could see a figure. The figure being there made him curious.