Three Years Ago.
"I'm heading out, Mother!" John shouted as he opened the door to the Walker residence, it was a fairly large house, consisting of two stories and twelve rooms, eight of them being pretty big and the other four being bedrooms. John Walker was an eighteen year old man, very friendly and loved to talk to people even if he didn't really know them. He wore a white shirt with black marks on it and a pair of blue jeans as he stepped out the door and walked along the gravel path towards the city. He was a kind person and wouldn't harm anyone and would stand up for those who needed help. Unlike some of his friends he wasn't magical at all, being unable to focus any kind of energy into magic, but he didn't mind. He much preferred using his hands when it came to working.
What John didn't know was that after he had closed the door and left for the city, he had left his family for the last time.
John joined his friends at a local pub, they talked and laughed for hours. The three of them had emptied almost two bottles of Scotch alone and all of them were quite drunk when the pub closed and they had to leave. Although John wasn't as drunk as his two friends, probably because he was sturdier built than them and hadn't been drinking as much as they had. Nevertheless John began his long walk home in the darkness of the night, it was probably around 3:20 AM he guessed, or he thought he guessed when he actually was standing and looking at a church clock. On the walk home he began to sober up slowly, his wobbling all over the road slowly stopped and he began to walk in more of a straight line and when he finally had left the city he was walking like normal.
The Walker residence was sitting about an hour outside of Clovertown which gave John some time to sober up further. He enjoyed being outside in the night, the air was cool and also slightly moist. There was no one out at this hour and John could walk around talking to himself without anyone would think he had gone crazy. Often he would think back at the past hours and laugh at the jokes inside his head which made him seem a bit crazy for those whom he passed during the night. Although John didn't care, probably because of the alcohol.
John continued his slightly drunken walk towards the Walker residence and when he began to near his home he began to smell the strong yet subtle scent of smoke in the air. He stopped and looked around, there was no source of light in the pitch black night and thus the source of the smell remained unclear for John. There was a light wind outside that blew against John as he walked home, carrying the smell towards him, how convenient he thought and pressed on, perhaps he could find the source on his way home.
As he got closer to his home the strong smell of smoke slowly became more apparent although he could still not find the source of it. He was pretty sure that it didn't come from his home, as his father didn't have to light a fire to warm the house during summer. John kept walking and the gravel road he followed soon got angled upwards as he closed in on a hill. In the distance he could see the sky turning orange slowly whilst the rest was pitch black. "Hmm, sunrise already?" he thought and began to climb the small hill that blocked the view of his home.
The smile that had covered his face along with the happy thoughts in his mind was instantly removed when he stood at the top of the hill. His home. In flames. John began to slowly move towards it, picking up speed until he began to run, but because of the scotch he had been drinking earlier he couldn't run as fast as he wished to. When he arrived at the front yard of the house he could hear his sisters, his mother and his father screaming in pain as the flames burned them alive.
"MOOOM! DAAAA-" He shouted but he was silenced by a hit to the head. He felt the ground beneath him disappear and reappear as he landed on the side of his head. Looking around John could see three men standing and looking down upon him, one wielding a bat, probably the one whom had hit him. One of the others held a red can and the last one something that looked like matches. He tried to get up but the sudden feeling of something wet against his face stopped him, he felt a strong smell getting poured over him. John moved his arms up to try and stop the fluid, and it stopped.
Stumbling slightly he slowly began to come up from the ground but found the pouring sensation got replaced by something hot and then pain again. He was knocked down once more as the fire began to spread across his fuel covered torso. His limbs grew limp and he was knocked out.
Hours Later
John groaned in pain, his burned skin feeling like it was still on fire as he came back to consciousness. The pain was the strongest feeling he had ever felt, each breath he took made it feel like he was burning again. It took him twenty painful minutes before he got up from the ground. John looked at the ashes that remained of his precious home. Nothing remained except for some supporting beams that had once held up the large wooden house.
A new day had dawned and it was raining slightly, the water against John's skin felt somewhat good, but it still burned like hell he thought. Looking around he saw the tool shack was still standing and hadn't been set ablaze. Moving towards that made him wince in pain, every movement he made made him hate those who had burned him. Something he noticed when walking towards the shack was that his hand was still burning but the flame, unlike the ones that had covered his chest earlier, was pitch black, and it didn't seem to cause him any pain.
He flicked his hand and blew at the flame it didn't seem to want to get put out. He didn't think much more of it and continued towards the shack. When he opened the door the flame had disappeared, John didn't put much thought on it but looked around the shack. He found some bandages and began to wrap them around himself. It took him time but the bandages felt good against his burned skin. John looked around the shack and found a black robe, taking it he wrapped it around himself and began to make his way back towards the city.
His once clear blue friendly eyes were now almost pitch black as the robe he wore and filled with hatred. John soon began to ignore the pain, accepting it as a part of him and by the time he got into Clovertown he had already gotten his black flame under control.
The news about his burned home had just reached the city as he walked into it, but because of the bandages he wasn't bothered by anyone, perhaps they didn't recognize him. John's advance continued for an hour until he had walked straight through the city of Clovertown. Somehow, he felt like he was heading the right way. He didn't say anything, he didn't greet anyone and anyone who greeted him was replied with nothing. That John had died with his family, now he wanted vengeance and he was going to get it.
The pain fueled him, his hatred fueled him and the sorrow he felt all tore at his once pure soul, corrupting it and painting it as black as his robes. Perhaps there was a bit of him left inside, but if it was there, it was covered in rage and pure undiluted hatred.
It took John another fifty minutes before he saw three men dressed in black jackets enter a house just outside of town. He didn't doubt for one second, he knew it was them. They were going to pay. All John could think of was making them suffer as he had, as his sisters and parents had. The rumbling sound of thunder above them echoed out into the air and John moved towards the door. He stopped in front of it and slammed his fist against it. It took just under a minute for the door to open, the man who had been wielding the bat opened it and looked at John with a raised brow which then turned to fear as he realized what John's eyes told him. Before he could shout or do anything to call for his friends he was silenced with a fist to the face. John looked down at the man and smirked under his bandages, stomping him in the face with his boot then leaning down to drag him further into the house.
As the mans friends came out of the kitchen John was standing in the living room with the unconscious man on the floor. They too realized rather quickly who had returned from the yard to take out his vengeance upon them. John waited and both of them moved in at the same time, John didn't move. Instead the robe he was wearing began to get covered in black flames, starting at his hands. John dodged their strikes and punched both in the sides and when they realized the black flames didn't spread they looked at him once more. This time they attacked one at a time, the one who had poured gasoline at him first. John downed him easily with a punch to the throat and the other one got a fist in his stomach.
As the two men kneeled in pain John kneeled besides them, grabbing one by the neck and slamming his head down against the floor and the other one by the throat. As the man whom had poured the fuel lay knocked out next to his friend John focused on the one who had held the matches. Pushing him against the wall John moved closer, pressing his hand against his throat, leaving him out of breath.
"What's the matter? Can't breathe?" John taunted him and pressed slightly harder. "Too bad." John used his free hand to pull down the bandages from his face and looked the man in the eyes. "See this? I was lucky, you are not going to be, I'm going to burn you alive just like you cowards did to my family. I'm personally going to make sure that none of you walk out of this fucking house alive. You. Will. Burn!" John growled as he dropped the man down onto the ground, he didn't move much as he rubbed his throat.
John smirked and kicked him in the guts once more before he looked around the living room, what he could see that was of value to him was a bottle on a table. He moved over to it and picked it up. Whiskey, he had never been a whiskey drinker but this would have to do, he was never touching scotch again so he needed something new to drink. Putting the bottle in his robe he looked down at the men again. He kneeled in front of the only man not knocked out and grabbed his shirt. "Don't worry, the fire only spreads through Shadows." He said and patted him as the black flame began to move across his torso. John then left the room, moving his hand along the wall, watching the black flames spread and then engulf the house.
That was the last time John was in Clovertown, last time ever? Probably not, but it's been three years since that time, perhaps it's time to return for a while.
OOC:
Listen to this when he reaches the front door:
