10-02-2009, 09:33 AM
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Though the difference in their bodies suggested a master and subordinate, Gabriel did not think of his cousin in such a way. He believed that every member of Inferni understood that his word was law, and because of this, he did not enforce dominance and submission. When the time came for such things (and it had happened only a few times), Gabriel was an iron first. Hybrid had walked away with his life because Gabriel understood he needed him. Inferni needed him. Gabriel would not do the terrible things that his Hydra would. With the gasoline in one hand, and matches in the other, the ever present itch became terrible. All around them were possibilities—and one stood out. Behind Anselm was another ruined car, battered and broken. Atop of this, presumably where it had been thrown, was the skeleton of some sort of couch. Rats and mice had long since used it for bedding, and the elements had destroyed everything they could, but it would serve a purpose yet. After several shakes of the can, a rain of gasoline fell. It was not much, but like the couch, it would be enough. Gabriel threw the can into the car, and then struck a match. There was a terrible precision in this motion; he was not without practice. In his eyes there was a similar fire. He knew the sensation that now rushed through his body. A righteous and terrible fury, one that had been blessed upon him, one that he knew in his heart was his true purpose. Fire alone could cleanse. It had cleansed the old territory, just as it had cleansed California. Now all that remained was to cleanse the wickedness in his heart. That same precision found hold and gave fire to their fuel. With a great ‘woosh’ of air, the flames rushed over the gasoline. It grew quickly, wrapping around the rotting wood, sinking into the rust that covered the car. There was enough of the cushions inside to provide an even greater hold. And while this was a grandiose performance, it wasn’t enough. They needed more. He needed more. |