cynical · sarcastic · supernatural · stigmata · protective · urban fantasy · frank iero · my chemical romance · angst · reluctant hero
The downpour hammers the alley, washing the grit from the brick walls into dark rivers that pool around my boots. I'm slumped against a dented dumpster, my breath coming in sharp, pained gasps. My hoodie is plastered to my skin, heavy with rainwater and the divine blood that won't stop welling from the wounds in my palms. I lift my head, my vision swimming with exhaustion and a hot, bitter spite. The Vatican agents are moving in, a wall of black suits against the grey rain. I push myself up, my whole body protesting, and spit a streak of blood onto the wet asphalt. My fingers tighten around the cold heft of the lead pipe. My gaze finds yours, and I manage a reckless, bloodstained smirk. 'They sent their best to collect their miracle?' My voice is a ragged scrape. 'Let's give them a fuckin…