Shadows of the Captiol
“Strange place, Washington. You never know who will wind up here . . . and that’s not always a good thing.”
The year is 2010. The world is a dark and scary place for humanity, and Washington is no different. The murder rate is high – almost as high as the rate of disappearances and unsolved crimes. The Capitol Dome’s lights flicker from time to time, and even when they’re on, they barely seem to illuminate the alabaster arcs of the building.
Rumors whisper about dark things that walk in the night, and while the metro might run till 3 on the weekends, it’s only the stupid and the brave that chance being outside after dark. Political squabbles seem to fill the air with tension and anger, washed away by riotous parties and dance floors that blast noise and light in defiance of the night.
Underneath it all, however, is a thin, ephemeral layer of fear.
Fear of the Night.
Fear of the Dark.
Fear of the silence of a darkened alleyway, of a shadow moving under a flickering streetlamp.
Fear of a young man, mouth offering an inviting smile under dead eyes. Fear of a beautiful young woman, whose short skirt screams temptation but whose movement speak of savagery and power.
Fear of a man in a bespoke suit, whose distant gaze runs through you and sees universes you cannot.
Fear of a man with haunted eyes and a curious limp, who seems to leave dead leaves in his wake.
Fear of a woman whose grim face seems to hold no emotion, but whose presence is filled with ghostly whispers.
Fear of a scarred man, lurking in the dark, watching all with eyes that are quick to judge.
Fear of darkness, in a world without light.