Fire wasn't crackling, neither were there intense screams or pits of radiating lava.
No, there were no obvious signs except a cold brisk wind following in its footsteps. A supernatural daemon was walking amidst a crowd of unsuspecting, busy mortals. If any inspected the heavily cloaked figure for more than a moment they'd realise that something nasty was afoot. But instead, they simply left a path for the odd figure to walk into, many not wanting anything to do with someone so strange looking. Though anybody who came too close felt a chill down their spine and quickly found themselves walking in a different direction, which was many people seen as the figure was casually walking down the wrong side of a busy London street. It was staring forward intently, as its eyes finally spotted its target, for a moment a pulse of iridescent azure light radiating from the cloak in anticipation. Its power was welling up and people began to gaze in anxious wonder, some briskly walked away, others commented on the strange presence the figure was emanating.
One couple of risk-takers felt brave enough to approach and investigate the figure. A young man was the first to speak, he and his partner both looked relatively youthful and good-looking, they were dressed casually with a hint of style. "Hey, what's the act buddy are you a magician?" he asked.
The young woman had buried her anxiety less-so than her partner, she held onto her jewelled necklace for a boost of confidence before adding, "Are you a street performer?"
Again her male counterpart spoke brazenly, "It's mysterious but not much of a performance is it, have you started already?”
The aura coming from the figure intensified steadily as the posture of the thing underneath changed. It became less hunched and rose up to meet the curious man at his own height. The aura had gotten heavy enough that the couple felt pushed back and took a step away from the thing before them. Finally the figure raised and turned its hooded head to face them directly.
The couple instantly realised they'd made a mistake and tried to move away quickly, only to realise their bodies weren't listening, all their muscles had gone to sleep. They couldn't perceive a face, only the wooden mask that the daemon wore to hide amidst the world. It was cracked and worn, as if it had moulded to fit a face many millennia ago. A faint outline of a face could be seen through the eye-holes in the mask but neither man nor woman saw anything other than the flaringly hot glare from the molten orange eyes staring back at them. The piercing white irises of the hooded figure had them frozen in terror.
Half the crowd had dispersed in fear and those who remained did so from a distance.
When it spoke, something seemed wrong... the voice was scratchy and deep. It spoke no words in English, the crowd was utterly confused yet the couple understood exactly what the figure was saying in the ancient language as if it were speaking to their primal souls.
"Much time has passed since last I was addressed by a mortal... very interesting" The voice was oddly well-spoken and sly with a hint of mischief at the core of every word. "Ah but I see you are like all the others, self-important, proud and stupid... what menial thoughts your heads pursue”. The raspiness of the voice was disappearing, like it hadn't spoken for a long-time but was gradually warming up, "I shall answer your question… No... but now as restitution for the disturbance..."
The tiny white irises pulsed larger for a fraction of a second as a limb wove under the cloak. Instantly both the man and woman felt extremely dizzy, they started to wonder where they were and why it the air felt as hot as a sauna when the weather was so cold and dreary. The figure began skulking away and uttered one last thing, "Perform".
The two began gasping deep breaths of air.
The woman was fanning her hands around trying to cool down and the man splashed some water from his bottle on his forehead. It wouldn’t work, it was and would continue to only get hotter for them. They started uncontrollably panting as the heat rose quicker throughout their bodies; they unbuttoned, unfastened and unclasped their clothes in a desperate hurry for reprieve. The man was the faster of the two who was quickly in his underwear with a noticeably large bulge pushing outwards. He quickly found his thoughts clouded with lust and desire like never before, his partner had never once looked so absolutely arousing as she did in this moment. Before she could finish taking off her matching white panties and bra she felt stunningly racy hands on her hips and let out a muffled moan as she was lifted and pinned against the nearest building. Neither had felt desire as they did now, it was overwhelming and incomparable. Within seconds their underwear had hit the floor, their frenzied moans filled the air and the man pounded his lover furiously against the wall with her legs kicking out in pleasure to the public.
Her loins were pulsating with every push from her lover’s manhood, she was dripping wet and her nails were digging in and scratching his back like a cat's claws, yet neither of them could feel pain right now. Only pleasure.
The crowd wooted and hissed mixed reactions at the same time, many took out phones to record the public indecency only to find their screens had strangely been completely smashed to bits.
Just down the street, the hooded figure reached its destination. In giant silver letters, the words 'HMP Pentonville Penitentiary' were written. It smiled behind the mask, a regular looking male hand extended from the cloak with blue tattoos all over it. It began walking again, but this time trailing its fingers across the wall and gate of the prison. The tattoos began glowing and without warning alarms sounded loudly, shocked guards were shouting and wailing as every cell and door in the prison began unlocking itself. The figure reached the other end of the entrance and jabbed with one of its long nails into the air.
Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop
Each and every tyre belonging cars, bikes and any other vehicles the guards and police owned suddenly popped all around the area.
"Hmm... that's done... now I have, about two hours before I have to return, what to do? Who should I visit?" mused Dolos, the lord of deception, lies and manipulation as he let out a yawn and launched into the upper atmosphere, his dark-blue feathered wings rose out from small slits in the cloak carrying him faster than a jet. His eagle-like, devilish eyes scanned around England for victims with particular thoughts.
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