Three flashes of dim yellow light, and the truck moved out. This was one of their larger shipments, and they were quite pleased. So was he.

He waited in the darkest shadows of the warehouse to avoid being identified; the fewer people who knew his face, even amongst his own 'employees', the better. He was busy counting the money. A total of fifty million dollars altogether. He smiled, paid each of the men but one, then kept that man there as he dismissed all the others.

As the man stood waiting to find out what he was wanted for, he noticed that the shadows had changed slightly; whereas there had been a dim outline of his employer only moments before, there was none now. That made him nervous - very nervous. He liked to know whom or what he was dealing with. Which is what made him foolish; arms dealers aren't supposed to ask questions. They're never supposed to ask question.

And besides, Lucretius hadn't fed yet tonight.

The man's neck was quickly snapped, his body drained almost as quickly; Lucretius threw him in with the rest of the refuse and doused it all in gasoline. Finally, he threw a match and watched it burn; how he loved fire - the slow comsumption of fuel, the way it crinkled and crumbled; the crackling of the flames, the embers shooting up into the night sky...it was beautiful and unpredictable, and he loved it. Perhaps because he, himself, was predictable; and he hated that. But fire, on the other hand...

In the distance, he heard a door open and close; he turned toward the sound. Someone was walking in his direction; whether or not they could see him remained to be seen, but it didn't matter. He fled to the darkest shadows once again, watching as the stranger came closer...

Officer Patrick Smith on one of his nightly patrols of slums was driving down the old industrial area of town. He slowly shined his brights into each abandoned warehouse, it was illegal to go into them, yet every night somebody would slip in to do some 'under the table' dealings. It was then he noticed a light from inside a abandon warehouse. He knew for a fact that there should be nothing on in there. He stopped his police car a block away and got out.

At first he believed it was just some kids messing around or some drug dealers. He walked up to a side door and forced it open. He sighed, there was a fire going. "Vandals." he said shaking his head. He moved closer to the fire when he thought he saw movement in the shadows. Somebody is here, right now.

Patrick pulled out his service pistol and glanced around. He looked at the fire... He took a step back in shock. Frack! he realized there was a body in the fire. He spun around pistol raised looking for the person who killed this man.

The man's gun was gone in an instant, nothing more than a small rush of wind and a sudden jerk as evidence that there had been anything there at all; Lucretius emptied the clip, tossed the gun to one side of the building and tossed the clip to the other side.

Lucretius said nothing, enjoying the man's seemingly nervous demeanor; or maybe he was just cautious. Either way, he was none the wiser. The body was in flames, completely unrecognizable by now, and the truck was gone. Only Lucretius and the money were left, and he wasn't about to show himself or part with his 'paycheck'.

Patrick felt his gun leave his hand. It happened so fast he almost fell over in shock. He could here the clip and gun hit the ground and slide across the floor. He was shaking, what could move fast enough to take his gun out of his hands. His heart raced. Think! He shook his head. His gun was tossed behind him and he had more clips in his belt. He slowly back up and an idea popped into his head. Yet his idea depended on if what ever it was that took his gun would stay or not.

As the man slowly backed toward the gun, Lucretius had to grin from his place in the shadows of the warehouse; though he had once been mortal himself, he couldn't believe how stupid mortals seemed to be. When he was mortals, everyone believed everything. He reached out with his mind, but only enough to move the gun past the man to the door through which he had come. This was almost - fun.

Patrick turn behind him, he thought he just heard his gun scrape across the floor from where he was at. Ok Ok just do it! Patrick screamed to himself. He put on his sunglasses and looked around.

It sounded as if the gun were by the door. He shook his head, got up and ran and dived for the door grabbing his gun. He spun around and clipped the gun back onto his belt and turned around. It was dark as hell and he could not see. He reached into a pouch on his belt and got out something.

His back was turned, so Lucretius didn't see what it was; he smirked, though, for it couldn't be anything that he couldn't avoid. The gun flew from its holster and the clip separated from it; while they landed on opposite sides of the warehouse, they were all the way at the other end. He grinned. He'd play with him a bit more before taking off; it was only nine o'clock, and he wanted to have some fun before the sun rose.

((So the suspense is killing me - what'd you pull out already?! :P ))

Patrick felt his gun leave his utility belt. He looked down in shock. WHAT THE F***! his mind screamed. Sweat ran down his forehead, somebody had taken his gun again. He glanced around, something was wrong... very wrong. Patrick turned around and... his mind blanked out. Military trainning for 2 years made him able to work without thinking. He hit the ground crawled back towards Lucretius. He pulled out his striker and smiled.

For Lucretius, who's eye where in no shape or ready for Patrick to light a small Magnesium High Intensity Flare and tossed it at him. To him the world exploded with a white light.

Patrick lit the magnesium flare and tossed at Lucretius. As soon as Patrick saw him he ran and talked him. He pulled out his mace and began to haphazardly spray at his eyes while he still was onto him.

The only thing that saved Lucretius was instinct. He was completely blind, but he'd instinctively leaped into the air with a blur of motion at the time of the shock; his shoulder bumped into a rafter and he grabbed it, using logic and momentum to swing onto it. He moved along the rafter to get to the other end of the warehouse, by which time he'd partially recovered. He looked at the man angrily; a magnesium flare - it had to be that. It couldn't have been a white phosphorous grenade, since there was no smoke following the flash. And now, as his eyes finally began to readjust, he saw it - yes, it was a magnesium flare. So the mortal liked to play games - fine. But his were better.

With a flick of his eyes toward the door, it flew off its hinges and shattered in mid-air; when it landed, it was in about fifty pieces. Let him try to figure that one out.

Patrick's jaw dropped as soon as he saw the door shatter and burst into pieces. "How the hell?" He said aloud in shock. RUN! Patrick turned around and booked it out the door running for his police car. He did not stop, and he did not look back. He jumped in turn on the engine and hit the gas, spinning off into the night.

Lucretius burst out laughing. He'd had his fun for the night, and now he was going to have some real fun. He was going to go see how much of his newfound money he could lose; it wasn't like he needed it - he just didn't like spending his own money when he could spend money the cops would end up stealing for the same purpose, anyway.

[OUT]

(( :D ))