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Torrential

Wolf in Wolf's clothing.

0 · 592 views · located in Wing City

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by NotAFlyingToy

Description

Tyler, the Creator wrote:Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses,
I told him to quit bitchin'; this isn't a fuckin' hotline,
For a fuckin' shrink, sheesh I already got mine
And he's not fuckin' workin', I think I'm wastin' my damn time,

Image

He moves without swiftness but with striding arrogance, a confidence that is born from rough times that he's muscled through. He is the rock in the sea, as lethal as acid rain. He swats men and woman aside, disgusted by the weaker species. He thinks Vampires will rule the earth, one day. It's only a matter of time.

Age: 935 at current date.
Bio: A vampire that doesn't care about politics or who is currently at large in the world. He wants two things; pleasures of life and the death of his enemies. He is willing to bend who the second rule applies to so long as someone supplies him with the first.

Equipment:

  • Two (2) 9mm Handguns, with sixteen (16) round clips. He keeps eight clips of spare ammunition on each side of his belt, with an additional two clips of special bullets.
  • One (1) Sawed off Shotgun, kept in a back holster. Shells for this are kept across his chest in an ammunition strap.
  • One (1) Katana, laced over the shotgun in a back sheath. Treated Alloy that is made to be kept extremely sharp.
  • Three (3) throwing daggers kept on opposite ammunition strap across his chest.
  • One (1) combat knife with serrated edge, kept in his boot. Treated with the same alloy as his Katana, listed above.

Abilities:
  • Night Vision; in accordance to his ranking as a high-level vampire, Torrential can see very well in the dark, as he primarily hunts nocturnally.
  • Martial Arts; he has had many decades to dedicate his body to the art of killing and nothing else. As such, he is a master of Boxing, Kendo, Judo, Jujutsu, Tae Kwan Do, and most recently Krav Maga.
  • Enhanced Speed/Strength; as a vampire who is nearly a millennia old, Torrential has the strength and speed as someone who has that kind of experience with being undead.

So begins...

Torrential's Story

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Torrential grinned at her, and lifted both shoulders in a shrug. Why couldn't he stop staring at her, taking in the form? Why did this destruction of his species fascinate him so?

"Of course, of course. Expect a call from me soon, Timo." His voice was much lower, one could almost say seductive. His white teeth flashed in the night as his gaze swept her again, from bottom to top. "I anticipate our next encounter. Very, very much."

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"Indeed I do."

With that, the vampire disappeared into the shadows, incredibly satisfied.

The setting changes from dark-woods to Mjötviðr; The Realms

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When Torrential woke up, to the shrill buzzer sound of the small wall sliding open, he couldn't help but be jerked suddenly, his eyes widening at the invasion of artificial sunlight. He glanced upwards, his eyes narrowed beneath the thick sunglasses, watching the sunlight pour through the holes in the ceiling. He stood, only to realize that, yes, he was still chained to the wall, he still hadn't eaten, and there was still a vampire Slayer on the other side of him.

"Round One of one; twenty teams enter, one team leaves." The voice boomed. "You either need to survive twenty four hours in the maze or kill all your opponents; but those who kill everyone get the benefit of a reward. A meal of their choosing."

The announcer faded out, and Torrential picked up a stray piece of rubble, chucking it at his partner for the 'event'. "Wake up," he grunted.

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Torrential twisted his lips, tugging on the chain around his neck with a powerful bicep. "I don't think they'd-"

Suddenly, he was free, stumbling forwards. The chain quickly retracted into the wall, ending with a sudden snap as the metal collar slammed against the smooth texture. Torrential rubbed his throat for a while, gingerly, before turning back towards Jaeda. He could rush her right now, kill her and end their little conflict. Snap her neck with his bare hands.

He needed her.

"After you." He muttered, gesturing to the entrance to the maze.

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Torrential smirked.

"Few can resist that." Ooooohhhkay. Did he just flirt with a vampire slayer? He did. He flirted with a vampire slayer.

He's probably just pent up, because he hasn't seen a woman in a good while, now, and he finally got that goddamned collar off. Yep. That's probably all it is.

When they both entered into the maze, the door slammed shut behind them, a move that they were both probably expecting. Torrential turned to face the dark maze, the only lights available being small red flickering running lights, humming off and on as they flickered. The maze smelled of copper and sweat and blood, and adorning the walls, illuminated by the casual flickering, were spots of the dried substance; some in humanoid red, others in blues, greens, and blacks.

In front of them was a backpack, with
Code: Select all
Team Seventeen
on it in glittering gold print. Torrential stooped to pick it up, unzipping it and revealing a hatchet and a garrot. He raised his eyebrows at Jaeda.

"Which do you want?"

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Torrential handed over the hatchet without much fanfare, slipping the backpack on without consulting her first. He was stronger, and better suited for night; he'd handle the supplies. "There's a day's rations in here. Water, food... plenty of room, too. A map." He handed the map to her; a rudimentary sketch with a small circle around where they presumably were. "Slayer, if we're going to win- er, make it out of this, we'll need to cooperate. But only with each other. I've read about games like this."

He took off his sunglasses; the colour of his eyes hidden in the shadows. "No alliances. No truces. What do you say?"

As he finished the question, a long, blood-curdling scream sounded from far to the east. The announcer's voice boomed over the stereo; "Team Three, eliminated."

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Torrential stalked after her, scowling down at the Garrot. He wondered if there was any kind of ruling to what weapons the teams got. Were they all garrots and hatchets, or were there some variety?

"Stop right there!"

A man's voice boomed from around the maze corner; a suit adorned over his clothes. His tie was loosened and astray, and he had on broken glasses. In his grip quivered a shiny, silver revolver; the hammer thumbed back. Behind him cowered a woman in a long, white dress, clutching some kind of mega phone, a bridal veil pushed back from her face.

Just married, Torrential thought. Whoever's behind this is a sick fuck.

He looked from the revolver to his piece of razor wire, and twisted his lips. This just wasn't fair.

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The man's gun followed Jaeda. "Scared!? What the fuck do you know about scared? One minute, I'm honeymooning with my beautiful wife, the next I'm in this fucking game. I said don't move!" He cried, putting his other hand on the gun, shaking more than ever.

Torrential wrapped the garrot between both of his hands, letting the wire bite into his palms.

"I just want to g-go home." The man whispered, as Torrential flexed his knees slightly, bending low. "I'm sorry. But I have to shoot."

Torrential leapt as the gun went off, smacking it into the concrete ground. Within seconds he was around the man, the Garrot zipped around his neck and tightened in a flash. The man fell, clutching at his neck, struggling for breath as he landed hard on his knees.

Torrential was about to finish the job when a megaphone came crashing down on the back of his head. He took a step forward from the force, and whirled with a single, superhuman punch towards the bride's head. The impact broke her neck, and with a gurgle she fell to her knees, slumping into her choking husband. A bright flash of light came from the two corpses, highlighting the number 13 stitched into their clothing.

Torrential picked up the gun, leaving the gurgling husband and his dead wife lying on the concrete floor. An announcer boomed, gleefully; "Team Thirteen, eliminated. Team Six, eliminated."

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Torrential un-thumbed the hammer, tossing it to Jaeda without much care. "You're better with ranged shit," he muttered.

Suddenly, a man ran around the corner, screaming at the top of his lungs. Flame erupted from his coat, burning flesh and hair and fabric all in a single, roaring fire. Behind him ran four men, each with matching tattoos below their left eye; a teardrop. The one in the lead of the chase had a flamethrower pack on, and was currently pouring fuel onto the screaming, burning man.

The men were laughing as their victim dropped to his knees, howling in pain, and above it all was the sound of their laughter, uproarious, manic.

"Uh..." Torrential whispered, taking a step back, looking frantically for an exit.

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The bullet pierced the leader's brain just as he turned towards the two of them, screaming something vulgar. When the corpse started falling, one of the other three men drew a different handgun, laughing as he began to wave it at the two. The other two men began taking off the gas tanks from their leader, putting it on the bigger of the two's back. The chuckling, the wide eyed grins, the feral nature of their movement suggested that they weren't entirely sane.

And all the while, the man in the middle of the room burned, crawling towards the bride and the groom.

The man holding the automatic pistol began walking towards the two, heaving in laughter, spittle flying from his lips. "Yooou hoooo hooo hooo, wiiihihiilll, diieeeehighhigh...." He laughed, cocking the gun.

"Time to go!" barked Torrential, turning to sprint down a corridor of the maze.

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Torrential skidded to a stop as they came across an elevated bunker-type thing, and quickly made to clamber inside. The entire time, however, he was gritting his teeth. They had had four bullets when she had shot that guy, and suddenly, they were down to three. Why? Because she was a bleeding-heart, slow-witted, stupid vampire slayer without a single fuckin' thought in her head. That's why. He nearly saw red when he faced her, in the dark, close-quarters room.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he hissed at her, as the sounds of the crazy, whackjob pyromaniacs closed near them. He hoped they were hidden enough.

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When they did, he grabbed her shoulder, his eyes dark, stormy.

"They didn't have badges," he said, touching his own number 17. "They weren't other teams. You wasted a bullet on one of them; and you turn around and ice the fire guy." He shook his head.

"Do you want to become a dead woman?"

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Torrential nodded. "I don't like it; but I vote if we see them again; we run. We don't do ourselves any good contending with them, and there's more of them, with more firepower. Just... more everything, really."

He, too, took a step backwards. "Okay, get that map out, see if there are any clues as to where other teams are-"

He was interrupted by a tap on the head by something meaty and sticky; a chicken wing clung to his forehead, slathered in honey garlic. A bit of the chicken was worn away, as if someone had been gnawing at it right before it was thrown.

Slowly, Torrential turned to behold a little elf boy, brandishing a broken switchblade, his eyes wide and staring at the two, a chubby, quivering fist with a jagged edge sticking from it.

On his shirtsleeve, the number 9.

"Oh, hell," Torrential murmured. "This one's your turn."

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The boy's head split like a watermelon, the knife falling from his grasp. Torrential winced as the deed was done, turning away from the corpse almost immediately. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, not thinking about the monstrous act. He was a vampire; he went bump in the night, murdered men and women, drained them of blood, and set fire to their homes. He was, as Jaeda pointed out, a vile creature.

But killing children crossed a line.

"Team Nine, eliminated."

Torrential exited the bunker, turning to glance at her. "He's twisted," he snarled. "When I catch him, he's going to wish he died as that boy did."

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He waited for her to exit the bunker, and then followed, his hands twitching slightly at the lack of a weapon he had. "Do you think that the guy that attacked us is the same dude running this place? I'd severely doubt it."

"Team Five, Eliminated." There was a chime.

"New initiative. The first person to kill Team Fifteen gains a reward. They are currently located in the west side of the arena."

Torrential glanced at her. "Lots of people headed that way."

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"Probably either doing too well, or too badly." He grunted, rolling his neck. "I think... we're being watched. This is some kind of sick spectator sport, something I'd no doubt watch the hell out of if I was topside. Or owned a T.V. And there wasn't anything to do."

He sighed, rolled his neck. "Best head west; take a few out. If I'm in the corner, what are you going to do?"

The setting changes from the-realms to Castle Vankoryth Dungeons

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The old stomping grounds.

Torrential's bootsteps took him through the hallowed halls, the dimly lit corridors of his once proud and regal home, the place that he quickly turned his back on the second that it had become inconvenient for him to stay. One by one, the Vankoryth had melted into the shadows of the world's legends, taking with them every conquest, despite the few in number, to their quiet graves of history. After a time, even this place would be overrun by beggars and thieves, a collective of souls that he felt deserved the dwelling much more than a bunch of Vampires, sneering down from their ivory towers, debating and delegating when there was so much damn killing to get done.

The other Vampire had said a certain toy of his was here, and he'd be damned if he was going to turn his back on this place before seeing her - beaten and trapped - once more. Tapping at the silver dagger he had kept - a treasure of his travels, a testimony to his triumph - sheathed at his hip, he smirked to himself, picturing the werewolf, in her bars, crouched low...

Glorious sight, the broken enemy. Glorious indeed.

He crept on silent feet down the bowels of the dungeons, only slowing when he neared the place - the only place - the idiot vampire would've kep-

The sight of the man in the dark made him shrink back slightly, the dagger popping from his sheath and resting in his palm, pointed outwards in a tight fist. His eyes ran across Maria, in full wolf form. Free and unshackled as the day they had first fought, first locked eyes. Two of them made this a fight that was worth considering, a fight that was worth avoiding all together. He backed up another step, his body bent, taut, coiled like a spring, heavy boots silent as a shadow, silent as a ghost. They wouldn't hear him, the wouldn't see him, they wouldn't smell-

A crunch of gravel under his boot solved the matter of stealth for him.

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Turned out the gravel saved him.

As his boot slipped further on the loose stones, Torrential rolled with it, letting the rocks send him off balance and falling backwards, a rush of air where there once was dead clamminess. He fell, and the dagger was thrust upwards to clatter against the stones, still gripped in his tight fist. With his back against the ground, both feet lashed out at the wolf, using every inch of his undead strength and speed, attempting to gain a sliver of sunlight to escape the cascading night.

Of course, that hope wasn't well-lived, as he caught a flash of russet - Maria - leaping over both him and his attacker, landing somewhere behind - well, above him, now - on the stone steps. His reaction to the manoeuvre was immediate; the dagger was turned point up, and twisting his body for leverage, he stabbed out at his old enemy, aiming for her shoulder.

Torrential was fighting to flee.

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The howl that erupted from the wolf was drowned out, if only marginally, by the snapping jaws and rending flesh that occured just to the side of his ear, making him curve his head to avoid further injury, making him utter a single cry of panicked agony. As Maria shook him, the effects of the howl slowed his mind, making his movements sluggish, slower. His hand gripped at his sawed-off, strapped to his thigh by several clasps of leather and brass, ripping the weapon free. Cocking it, Torrential moved his hand upwards, placing the nozzle right under Maria's nose, pressed against the tip of her fangs.

Without a second's hesitation, he pulled the trigger, discharging a single shell of buckshot into Maria's face.

He cocked the weapon and moved to fire the second shell into Riaze, but the wolf's slashing motion bit deep into the gun, sending it clattering against the side of the room. Torrential, now acting completely in flight mode, withdrew his silver knife from Maria's shoulder, flipped it around, and threw it through the cobwebs of his aim towards Riaze, hoping to strike him in the chest. Torrential then rolled, attempting to get to his feet. Escape. He needed to escape.

The setting changes from castle-vankoryth-dungeons to Gambit's Bar

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The creaking of leather could be heard from the back of the bar, as a massive black man, strapped to the teeth with weaponry - not an unusual sight in Gambit's Bar - lolled on a booth, his booted feet crossed on top of a table, one ankle crossing the other. His arms were folded over his chest, his chin pressing down against it, and soft snores could be heard from his deep, rumbling chest.

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When Torrential's feet were suddenly thrown to the side, he was up and out of his chair, a loud snort ripping from his chest as he staggered, blinking beneath his dark glasses as Varia's face filled his vision. He blinked, before his lips twisted into the slow, easy grin that he wore so often around her.

"Well, hello, kitten," he purred, his hand reaching for her shoulder. "Fancy seeing you around here."

If he was even slightly fazed by the rage that had gripped her, it didn't show on that lecherous smirk.

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Torrential's grin dropped, quite suddenly, at the tone Varia continued to bark. He folded the rejected arms around his chest, his form tensing. Slowly, his head dipped so that he could observe her from over the dark rims, a mahogany eyebrow raising.

"Are you?" He asked, pointedly. "I was the one responsible for catching the vermin the first time around; why should I care that your family wasn't strong enough to capture her again?"

He turned away from her then. "Now. Are you here to scream and yell, or are you here for some fun? I'd much rather the fun," he added, hopefully.

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At the shower of wooden shrapnel, Torrential did nothing more than bat a would-be missile out of the air as it flew to his face, annoyance colouring his features. He held up a hand, frowning. "I'm sorry - which of our preferred groupings released a wild animal into the forests again?"

He shook his head, his eyes rolling. "Look. I want the bitch dead, too. I'm sure that she's off doing whatever it is mongrels do when they're alone, and I'd be more than happy to slit her throat and let her rot somewhere. But the bitch isn't easy to kill, Varia. I've blown her goddamn head off, and she still limped away."

He took a step towards her, his huge frame casting a slight shadow. "What we need is a plan."

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At the shower of wooden shrapnel, Torrential did nothing more than bat a would-be missile out of the air as it flew to his face, annoyance colouring his features. He held up a hand, frowning, to stop her.

He shook his head, his eyes rolling. "Look. I want the bitch dead, too. I'm sure that she's off doing whatever it is mongrels do when they're alone, and I'd be more than happy to slit her throat and let her rot somewhere. But the bitch isn't easy to kill, Varia. I've blown her goddamn head off, and she still limped away."

He took a step towards her, his huge frame casting a slight shadow. "What we need is a plan."

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Torrential put both of his hands on her shoulders, lightly. "Give me a few days, gather up some materials. I have a contact - weak little woman - that I can probably press into giving me some more silver. Maybe you'd enjoy leaning on her with me."

He squeezed slightly. "After we get that shit, we can start the hunt. She'll be nothing but a stain when we're finished."