Searching For Something That Found You (Henry-Killenger)

Jeramiah was in a bad mood. One of his worst to date. He had come so close to killing Elena, so close his vengeance, his absolution, and yet she had escaped.
He sneered as he passed his favorite cafe, not even their coffee could cheer him up today.
He was wearing his gauntlets again, he often found them to be the most convenient to wear out. The boots were heavy and the cuirass stood out too much.

He had a long sleeve shirt on and over it he wore a passable replica of his old coat. Looking up at the sky, Jeramiah hoped to find something to improve his black mood.
He stopped and closed his eyes, the screams coming back to him in vivid detail. The people he had slaughtered were there once more, their eyes staring at him in a mix of grief, madness and... hunger? While his first thought was to wonder what they would be hungry for, it quickly became apparent to him.

Revenge.

Not just on him, but on everyone who had ever wronged them in their lives.

That dark place did that to you. It made you think and seethe, reflect and brood, contemplate and fantasize about sweet revenge. Jeramiah didn't know what it was like for the others who he had sent there, but whenever he closed his eyes, all the memories came flowing back. Not just his though, the memories of his victims from shortly before he killed them would flow like water into his mind.
Smiling, Jeramiah opened his eyes once more, the sweet cacophony of screams quickly subsiding. He looked around at his surroundings once more. He had wandered close to the high end district of the city. Here there were millionaires and their rich children, all living lives of luxury and relaxation.

"Should've been me" he grunted, the whisper following his voice filled with loathing for those who lived such carefree existences.

Jeramiah rubbed his temples softly. The whisper that followed his every word was starting to take on a life of its own, sometimes it even spoke louder than he did. He continued walking, deep in thought and mumbling to himself. He had learned to repress the whisper despite its growing power because -while it was an excellent intimidation tactic- it lacked subtly. He would need those sorts of thing in this modern world if he was to speak with anyone but Elisia... Anu... on a regular basis.

"I swear to god, next time I see her, I'm going to kill that bitch" he mused, the whisper barely audible. He felt more powerful since his last encounter with the woman and if they ever met again than she would die for sure. He knew her powers now and what's more: he knew how she thought. For all her boasting, Elena was a coward, a coward who slinked away whenever she started to lose. Such thoughts continued cycling through his head as he walked down the street, barely noticing where he was or where he was going, it was in this pensive state that he felt himself slam into someone. Startled out of his musing he looked down. It was a young woman with long platinum blonde hair. The look on her face was one of surprise and what appeared to be cheated rage, he didn't have much time to contemplate this as her hand shot out him. Jeramiah reflexively grabbed her hand and lifted her slightly off the ground. He pulled her up to eye level and stared deep into her eyes.

"Watch where you're going you little Hündin" he said sharply, not bothering to restrain the whisper's hissing repetition of his insult.

Jeramiah recoiled at the force of the woman leaping off his chest. She wasn't particularly strong from what he could tell, but she had to have skill to be able to pull of a maneuver like that without him being able to react in time.
She quickly moved in to attack him once more but Jeramiah responded in kind, his black smoke pouring forth and veiling him an aura of death. As she came in he moved a fist to intercept hers, the smoke covering it engulfing her hand. Seemingly unphased, she moved to deliver a kick to the same side. He felt the kick hit, but, as expected, it was weak. Smiling Jeramiah brought his other fist down towards the woman's head, his fist covered in the black smoke like substance that made up his attacks.

Jeramiah looked down at the girl, the anger gone -or a least hidden- from her face... along with her wounds. Strange. He prepared another blast of smoke in his palm when he heard her say his name. How did she know who he was? Not only had the last person he'd ever known died almost four hundred years prior, but he looked nothing like his former self, his youth had been restored by the ritual that bound his soul to his Freischutz armor. Jeramiah sneered and grabbed the girl, holding her up by her neck. He did not squeeze but simply glared into the girl's eyes, her steely blue gaze met his as he removed his sunglasses and allowed the hellish red and black that they now were to take hold. His eyes had once been that same steely blue as hers, his gaze -even then- carried immense power and he could often cow lesser men into doing his bidding with a simple gaze. That was one of the qualities of the Freischutz, they all had the ability to inspire people to follow them, either through respect... or fear.

While Jeramiah was far from the greatest among them, he was the smartest, for when the time had come to gun one another down, he fell quickly to the ground as if shot and allowed the others to expend their ammunition. As soon as the last man turned his back, Jeramiah rose from the corpses like the vengeful ghosts of all those slain and shot the man in the back. Far from noble but the demon didn't care. It got its souls either way. Jeramiah contemplated all the people he had met in his two hundred or so years of life prior to being captured by the Thiels, or so that bitch, Elena had called them. No one he could remember bore more than a slight resemblance to the girl he now held in his grip. Sighing he finally decided that he may as well ask.

"I'm only going to ask this once Hündin" he said, the whisper that followed his voice carried a deadly seriousness.

"How do you know who I am?" he hissed, the whisper surging forth on the last word carried something akin to a murderous intonation.

He truly desired to know, there was no way that anyone should even know of his existence let alone his name. The girl didn't respond immediately so he allowed some of his black smoke to seep out over his hand, but not touch the young woman's neck, the inky blackness whispering of torments to come should she refuse to answer his question. Jeramiah continued searching his memory, wondering who this young woman could be, she barely looked a day over twenty and yet when she spoke his name it was with a strange familiarity. Not with warmth or longing mind you, but with familiarity... as if he should know who she was.


"Answer now, or I will kill you" he roared, putting as much emphasis as he could on overpowering the whisper.