(I was bored and wanted something to play with while working on NaNoWriMo, so this came up. I might write more, but I might not. This is just there, really. No judging! Well, constructive criticism is fine.)
The daunting song of the wind lifted up and down, spinning in circles and dancing past the ears of the man on the roof. He stood perched on the top of the building, watching the skies, waiting. The helicopter pad behind him glowed bright red.
He looked down at his white attire, it was blindingly obvious in the dark night air, which rasped like a dying creature.
He rolled his head around, stretching his neck. His sharp eyes focused on something in the distance, a blinking beacon. A wicked smile came to his lips.
The katana slipped out of it's sheath and he moved forwards, like a pale storm, fury eminating from his movements.
As figures began to slip over the edge, joining him on the rooftop, he spun and sliced. Removing limbs and shredding clothing. In a whirlwind of flashing steel and ivory horror, he took the lives of all the men on the rooftop. Choking gasps escaped their throats as they fell to the ground, their hands grasping their necks.
His eyes trailed along the blood at his feet. It didn't give him the usual pleasurable malice, it made him weary. He was tired of killing, he was tired of the rage.
He stood up straight and stared down at the bodies, his eyes were the color of rusting iron, a rough brown that showed many years of hardship.
A breath escaped his mouth and he closed his eyes, breathing in the exhaust fumes and the usual smoke of the city, it seemed like everyone in this city smoked.
He let out a sigh and turned to look at the helicopter pad. He yearned for a calm to fill him, to feel the peace that he'd never been given the luxury of.
Inside of him was a cloud of hatred, it swirled angrily and turned his stomach. It made him act out, it made him kill, it made him hurt. It lurked in his soul and twisted him to it's bidding.
He forced the memories of the pain he'd caused out of his mind and turned to make his way back to the door that led into the building. He listened for a minute, then crept to the exit door, swift and silent.
The hate in him and his smooth silence were what gave him his name;
Storm Shadow.
