He stands.
Rain falls,
Through stark artificial light.
He watches.
Watches the scraps below,
Fighting out their existence,
Clambering across each other,
Biting,
Scratching,
Killing.
Rain runs,
Through his long blonde hair.
And yet he watches,
Even as the water,
Stings his eyes.
The night has no fear for him.
It's dangers bring no chill.
Sleep does not encumber him.
In his world there is no sleep.
Yet those below,
Have no realisation of his existence,
No thought for his presence,
No heed of his protection.
He runs his tongue across his teeth.
Sharp,
Ready.
A scream!
He drops,
Drops to the floor,
Landing softly,
Quietly.
They don't know he's there.
A cough.
Heads turn.
Faces frozen in shock,
Weapons now trained to one point.
He stares impassively,
Knowing the outcome,
Knowing the consequences.
It ends as quickly as it began.
The attackers dead,
Wounded,
Or fleeing.
Their victim laying in a puddle,
Then gently carried,
To an emergency room.
He leaves silently,
And returns to his place,
High above the city streets.
The rain still falls.
The rain still falls...
