It was a dark and dreary day; rain fell in torrents; thunder roared; lightning lit up the world. But another sound accompanied nature's symphony, that of flesh smacking into concrete, of blood pouring onto asphalt; lightning revealed what seemed to be a man tumbling through the air, red flowing from his mouth. He swayed through the air, buffeted to and fro by the wind. Legs turned over arms over head over legs impossibly fast and yet painfully slowly. With a crash, the man hit the ground; his limbs seemed to crumple; his features were slack but a sensitive microphone would have picked up a low groan from his parted mouth.
The figure pirouetted through the air barely able to feel the all-consuming agony he was in. When he reached the gorund, he oculd not help the groan that left his mouth; he felt weak and afraid for the first time in years. He tried lifting himself off the ground only to collapse before he was even on his knees. He lay. He was flat on his back. What felt like eternity passed. It was only two minutes. It also felt like a fraction of a second. He tried. He didn't reach his knees. He stared. The sky lit up. His chest was on fire. He groaned. He could barely feel himself exist. The water fell. It licked his face. He felt it. He tried to get up. He clutched at the wall. He didn't fall. He made himself move. He crawled. He was on his knees. He made it to the corner. He crawled without support. He made his way across an intersection. He was at the other end. A car whizzed by. The driver looked disgustedly at him. He grinned. It was ironic. They thought he was weak, They were right. They were wrong. He kept crawling. He reached his building. He could not enter. This would be weird. He had an idea. He would cater. He entered. The receptionist hurried forward. There were questions all over his face. The bloody figure murmured fight. The figure lost all strength. The figure slumped forward. The receptionist helped carry his weight. He took him into the elevator. The figure let his head fall near the receptionist's neck. His fangs came out. The receptionist pressed the button for the figure's floor. The figure resided on the top floor. The building had 23 floors. Fangs pierced skin. Control was still there. Blood was drawn. Both lived.