Hi everyone. This is just something I wrote on a whim. I would like feedback to see if it is worthy of continuation. So please review?

Terror ran through the girls eyes. She tripped and fell the skirt she wore tearing more. She gasped and tried to stand, only to find a large weight on her ankle. His weight. The man that had been stalking her for at least a month now was standing over here, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

She tried to scream; tried to do anything that would elicit help. But he clamped on behemoth hand over her mouth. The dirt and filth stank, floating up her nostrils and making her dizzy. She bit into the palm of his hand, yet he didn’t feel it. His hand tightened, cutting of her mouth completely. He chuckled lowly, the other hand reaching to his pocket…..and came back with a wickedly curved and gleaming dagger.

She struggled again, flailing helplessly at his head. Her hand caught his hood, ripping the cloth away from his face. She gasped, gagged on his sent and whimpered lightly. Her best friend, her confident, stood before her, a malicious glint in his eyes. He smirked and kicked her in the stomach. She gagged again, doubling over.

The two moved, the male carrying the female across his back. He opened his car and threw her in, before getting in and speeding off. A pair of crimson eyes regarded the scene blandly. The cigarette was tossed carelessly aside. A helmet enclosed the red eyes. A bike motor started in the still of the park. The black clad figure rocketed out of the gates, blasting past the police car that was there to offer a sense of protection to the night walkers. Both officers were at the coffee bar across the street.

The car sped around corners and cars alike, taking each bend at breakneck speed. The motorcycle followed suit, the long braid of violet hair whipping behind the rider as the black trench coat whirled in the speeding winds. The bike ducked between two cars. Crimson eyes narrowed as they took in the license plate number. It was the same one…the same one….

Gloved hands tightened on the throttle. Time was on the pursuer’s side. The assaulter’s car had little less than 3 gallons of gas left. The bike had a full tank. A spark of interest flashed through the emotionless eyes. The car had turned, and was returning to the place they had found her. Gloved hands tightened again, one leaning down to hit a small button on the side of his helmet. The night vision visor slid down. The road with no streetlights became as day. The rider would not loose his prey tonight.

The car stopped. The man, who was really only a teenager, ripped the girl from the car. Her blouse tore on the door as she was hauled into the abandoned house. The same house where a girl had been found mangled two years ago. The bike idled and the engine died as it slid to a stop. Black boots touched the ground as the rider stepped off. His helmet dropped noiselessly to the seat of the bike. Slow steps were taken as the rider approached the door. The figure stopped and turned towards the car. His quarry had minions.

The two thugs were of garden variety: one holding a switch blade, the other with brass knuckles. The rider clucked lightly. Rich brats with too much money….disgusting. The two punks rushed the rider. A kick to the hand with the switchblade. A roundhouse to the brass knuckled boy. A sidestep, a drop with the switchblade: one punk dead by his own blade. The other’s eyes widened before he lunged and growled. He never stood a chance. Three punches in quick secession landed to his windpipe, each accented by a large class ring. A smirk crossed the rider’s face. This was almost too easy. A cigarette came to his lips, a lighter flared.

“Smoking is bad for you Cyis…” came the gruff reply. The assaulter stood in the door, his shirt missing, the dagger he held clean. The girl screamed from behind him. Red eyes met the cool blue of the assaulter.

“Killing my sister was bad for you…Aion…” the violet haired boy whispered. He tossed the cigarette into the assaulter’s eyes. Aion screamed, then stopped. He was on his back, a boot pressing into his windpipe. His eyes widened as a small blade extended from the tip.

“I hope all the women were good. Good enough to die for….”

The police arrived to the anonymous call within minutes. They found a man lying in the grass before the house, a girl bound and crying within the house, and a dagger stuck in the ground. A note was attached to the gleaming blade.

“May he die as he lived-as an animal.”

Emotionless red eyes gleamed from the shadows. Another girl was screaming, in another town. He took a drag from his cigarette. It was just another night.