Luke Stryder

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Bio

Name: Luke StryderAge: 18 - 27Born: April 10th, 1918Also Known As: Master of Illusions, Pennywise the Dancing Clown, The Last FragmentSex: MaleHeight: 6'4"Species: Macroverse creatureOrientation: HeterosexualLocation: Los Angeles, California

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History

18+ | TW: kidnapping, violence, abuse, sexual assault, child death, clowns

"Let me go! Let me go and you can have everything you've ever wanted; Money, fame, fortune, power! I can give you these things. I can bring your wife back! I can do it, only I. She'll remember nothing, just like the seven of you remember nothing. I can't give you eternal life, but I can touch you and you will live long, long lives. 200 years, 300, perhaps 500! I can make you gods of the Earth if you let me go! IF YOU LET ME GO. IF YOU LET ME—"
— Pennywise the Clown, Stephen King’s It

Long ago, an ancient entity's life force suddenly expired. The creature vanished in a huge, cataclysmic event like a tremendous supernova. Consequently, its soul fragmented into millions of pieces that were then scattered throughout space and time.Arriving to earth as a myriad of celestial souls, these fragments were born into separate human families as individuals with outstanding, supernatural gifts as well as an instinctive, predatory drive to hunt and kill other alien predators.They did not arrive to earth all at once, and some did not make it. Spread across the fabric of time and various dimensions, groups of these fragments were born every ten years or so. Collectively, the creatures came to be known as Glamours to their enemies. As the Glamours waged an invisible war against other immortal beings, particularly those that fed on the shine of humanity, a large majority of them were killed off until only a handful remained, ending the cycle for good.Born into a wealthy, church-going family, Luke was one of these fragments. His father, Noah, was a prominently skilled aircraft engineer who later became the head of a successful company titled after the family surname. His mother, Ruth, wrote popular romance novels and took great pride in raising her son and daughter in their quaint yet luxurious home in Castle Rock.As a wealthy businessman, Noah was devout in his Christian beliefs. He prayed every day and read his Bible each morning. Ruth was also a Christian and raised her children with a steadfast heart for the Bible, accepting it as God’s Word. She loved both her children dearly, but Ruth always knew there was something unique about her son. Peculiar things would happen whenever he was around. He was surprisingly wise and well-behaved as a child. His sense of self-restraint was admirable, and he always seemed to know things he should not have.Knowing her son would likely start his own family some day, Ruth taught Luke to be kind, patient, and chivalrous all his life, instructing him to think like a leader, protector, and a future provider.Luke never lost these values and carried them into his adulthood, believing as a young man that “those who learn to delay gratification experience the most satisfaction in life.”Unlike many of the boys his age, Luke was passionately interested in the arts: music, literature, writing, drawing, poetry, and exploring on his lonesome, which delighted his mother but made his father sour and cold at times.Noah wanted Luke to socialize and play sports more often, take up the family business some day. It was not that these subjects did not interest Luke; he was rather good at competitive sports and business talk came naturally to him, but he could not deny his desire to build his talents, primarily in the fields of magic, literature, and orchestral music.Uncovering his knack for illusory tricks at an early age, magic soon became his strong suit. Admiring the work of famous magicians like Howard Thurston and Harry Houdini, he frequently practiced his craft and enjoyed arranging amateur magic shows for his friends and family. He began taking piano lessons at the age of four and later grew proficient in playing other instruments such as the violin, cello, guitar, saxophone, flute, and drums.However, at ten years old, everything went awry in the year 1928 when he met a mysterious, little girl named Addison Greene.She appeared as a fragment of the same creature he came from, but the girl was not all that she seemed. Like a baby sea turtle that had been eaten by a predator before making it to sea, Addison was a corrupted, power-hungry shell of a Glamour whose soul had already been consumed by a formidable creature from todash space.Shortly after meeting Addison, who he called "Addi," Luke was abducted and tortured to death by two shine-eaters; however, his killers failed to murder him correctly, and Luke was able to return to life with the help and guidance of a strange clown. The clown showed him many unusual things, not all of them pleasant, and told him what his death had caused.Despite his resilience, Luke had lost a significant portion of his power. His budding telekinesis had been eaten up with his steam, and worst of all, his death had triggered an irreversible, widespread catastrophe, resulting in the deaths of every remaining Glamour left on the planet.Killing his murderers with a vengeance, he tasted fear for the first time, and with that his life was forever changed.Following his murder, Luke made his way home and soon developed a friendship with the husk of Addison.Eventually, he fell in love with her, but as they grew older it was clear she did not love him back. She, in fact, secretly hated all men behind her seamless façade and had no intention of marrying anyone. Still, he was wrapped around her finger and remained loyal to her, cherishing her as a friend.By the time they were in their teenage years, Addison had become physically and verbally abusive. Her human heart’s condition was deteriorating. Luke tried not to let her words nor her actions affect him, caring for his friend’s well-being and placing her on a pedestal. Yet Addison was starving for power. She was not all there.Years later into their adulthood, Addison confronted Luke and infiltrated his mind, subduing him with her superior use of mind control.Locating a hidden power within him, she attempted to claim it, but she soon discovered she lacked the capacity to ever wield it herself. He alone was the core fragment, the only one equipped to handle such power. Frustrated and enraged, she then forced him to give up his purity, making him believe he wanted it. When he eventually learned the truth of what had happened, he had never felt so hurt and betrayed in his life. For she knew he had wanted to save himself for the woman he was going to marry.Barely human, Addison left Luke then, and with the aid of a sadistic woman named Rose the Hat, she began to feed on the steam of children, corrupting the rest of her humanity. Faking her own death, she disappeared and has not been seen since.The assault left Luke full of bitterness and sorrow, and it was he who discovered Addison’s body thereafter. Her corpse had been a tangible illusion, which was comparable to his own. The scene itself painted a deceitful, telepathic picture for him, a hazy playback of Addison's alleged murder.Distraught, Luke willed himself to forgive Addison. He then proceeded to pour all his anger, pain, and sadness into one, singular form—a bright-eyed clown in a silvery-white suit.Thinking himself deep down to be a monster who attracted death wherever he went, his dream of finding love one day died.Stryder’s purpose was much like the rest of his kind, which were all dead and gone due to his death. Believing that no innocent soul should ever have to experience what he has gone through, he vowed to dedicate the rest of his life to the protection of the shining, which existed within all human lives.It was in 1941 that America joined WWII, and Stryder enlisted in the military to fight for the U.S. at the age of 23.He served until the war’s end in 1945 and has lived in California ever since, taking up residence in a rich neighborhood near Los Angeles where the population of steam-eaters is terribly high.

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Personality

Most people that meet Stryder describe him as sweet and kind-hearted. He is a self-assured, strong, and silent type of individual who has always been comfortable living on his own. Having already flirted with death several times throughout his life, he is no stranger to pain or bloodshed and believes that his true death is inevitable despite his immortality.Although he is a world-famous performer, he is not an overly social person and with most people he remains generally reserved in his demeanor, choosing his words carefully and dedicating most of his time to his hunts and hobbies. When he does speak, however, he is pleasant and charismatic, utilizing a broad range of words that people do not normally use in everyday speech. Moreover Stryder loves kids and dreamed of starting his own family at one point in his life.Eloquent, sensitive, and well-educated, he is not exactly human, but he wishes he was. Stryder is highly observant of others and closely studies the ways in which humans choose to communicate.He is typically not a pursuant nor dominant individual in the world of romance, though he certainly can be, and finds it difficult to get close to the people he deems truly important in his life. Presently, he thinks of himself as socially inadequate as deep scars and trust issues prevent him from easily opening up to anyone.Oftentimes he will mask his pain with ridiculous, childish humor and will find solace in making others smile, if he can help it.His clown form is the greatest evidence of this fact. After his death nearly caused the extinction of his kind, he endured lasting heartache, abuse, and trauma within the first few decades of his life.As a result, Pennywise—the embodiment of his pain, guilt, and sadness—exists as his dual persona, which he taps into at will.Stryder retains much of his usual qualities when he is Pennywise. He is a big softie, silly, humanized, and caring, but in this form Stryder is vastly unpredictable and prone to bouts of impish behavior, sarcastic humor, and sneering persistence if challenged in any way.Additionally, when Stryder falls in love, he is loyal, chivalrous, and unafraid to give his whole heart, craving affection from only his significant other. He is not much of a flirt as he has always been the type to devote himself entirely to one woman, but he makes up for his lack of expertise with sappy romance and anything his girl desires.When he is not terrifying audiences, Stryder creates and collects works of art, regularly attends orchestral concerts, or walks through the scenic parts of Los Angeles, diligently hunting for his next victims. He is a patient gentleman and does not brush over serious matters easily, paying mindful attention to the way people act and feel.Naturally, he is also a good listener. In addition to his powers, his experience in the military has trained him to be hyper aware of his surroundings, and in the event of a deadly situation he is among the first to jump into action.On the other hand, Stryder has a mischievous and darker side to his psyche that sometimes gets the best of him, especially when he is faced with murderers of children.Disposing of other killers in society, he can be merciless and chillingly callous in his methods. He is subconsciously aware of his own sadistic disposition and feels fairly revolted with himself for it. The thought that he, himself, is a monster is another reason he dwells in self-imposed isolation.

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Appearance

As a human, Stryder is described as a tall, fairly well-built and attractive, young man with dirty blond/brown hair and bluish-green eyes.He carries himself with resolute dignity and has a business-casual wardrobe comprised of mostly darker colors, blacks and whites, blues, grays, reds, and so on.Stryder is adamant about maintaining a clean and well-dressed presentation, and when he speaks his voice is clear, smooth, and noble. A subtle but pleasant aroma of upscale cologne delicately clings to him and his clothing, and his styled hair is consistently well-kept and groomed as it will fall across his forehead and appear close to his eyes.To his enemies, the magician can appear in a variety of ways, but he is known to assume the form of an eerie man dressed in black. In this form, his clothes can occasionally change into an old-fashioned outfit consisting of a coat with a white bow tie, black pants, and black shoes. This look may be complemented by a top hat of the same hue.

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Powers

➤ Telepathy/Astral Projection: Stryder has the ability to project his consciousness outside the physical body. His telepathy enables him to communicate thoughts and ideas through the mind as well as detect information like the emotions and memories of an individual.➤ Illusions: There seems to be no limit concerning the exact variety of illusions Stryder can conjure, no matter if they are people, places, or things. His illusions can affect all senses and can last for an indefinite amount of time. This power also allows him to become invisible to whomever he chooses, but the absence of fear in his prey can weaken this ability.➤ Shapeshifting: The ability to assume different forms is another notable skill of Stryder's. This includes people, animals, monsters, and other creatures. The transformations usually occur within the blink of an eye, and as long as he is not seriously wounded he can remain in any form he chooses for as long he desires.➤ Mind Control/Possession: He requires only a moment to take control of the actions of weak-minded individuals. This power does not apply to everyone but can affect and influence numerous people all at once, compelling them to function a certain way without ever necessarily knowing why.➤ Superhuman Speed/Strength: As Pennywise and other various forms, Stryder can easily tear people apart, ripping off limbs and heads with considerable ease. Although he is still quite strong when he appears as a typical human, this power is not nearly as amplified in his normal state. Furthermore, he is blindingly quick and able to move faster than the eye can blink.➤ Regeneration: After suffering critical wounds, Stryder can heal at an accelerated rate. His body is capable of taking enormous damage, and begins to repair itself almost immediately after being wounded. His approximate speed of recovery varies greatly, however, depending on factors like the severity of the injuries themselves and the amount of fear he has consumed.

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Weaknesses

The potency of Stryder’s powers, especially his ability to shapeshift and manipulate illusions, correlates directly with his physical health. Therefore his powers are not nearly as effective when he is severely wounded.Fear and anxiety from his victims fuel his power and overall strength in combat, but the total absence of fear altogether can limit the boundaries of the illusions he is able to conjure. As a result, fear is an important element in his attacks. When he has not fed on fear for a prolonged amount of time, his powers can be less efficacious and fail him, even in dire situations.Additionally, Stryder is susceptible to the effects of chemicals and drugs. He can be taken by surprise and must abide by the laws of the shape he inhabits, which means he inherits whatever vulnerabilities come with the form he chooses. Although he has the ability to regenerate after being critically wounded, he is not invincible and heals at varying rates.The only way to truly kill Stryder is by removing his heart from his chest and completely destroying it, but only while he inhabits his human form. Until his heart is removed and destroyed, he will not die. Murdering him is not simple, but it is entirely possible, and he can be defeated in a fight or killed depending on the situation.

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Art: https://whereyougoin-eds.tumblr.com/

Forms

Stryder’s telepathy enables him to easily sense his target’s worst fears.Other than his main form as a man dressed in black, Pennywise the Dancing Clown is another form he favors as many of the adults he hunts are terribly afraid of clowns, and he finds this extremely entertaining.Stryder wears a silvery-white clown suit and has either blue or gold eyes depending on his temperament. He first assumed the form of the clown after experiencing great heartache and betrayal early in his life.As a result, Pennywise exists as his dual persona, the embodiment of his pain, anger, guilt, malice, and sadness.While Stryder retains much of his usual qualities as Pennywise, the clown is unpredictable and given to sudden, drastic mood changes that can be violent, horrifying, or difficult to reverse. He can assume this persona at will, and it can take over at any time, regardless of whether or not he transforms.Although Stryder is silly, mischievous, and whimsical in his clown form, he can also be disposed to sarcastic humor, domineering playfulness, and childish petulance if he does not get his way.

Art: https://whereyougoin-eds.tumblr.com/

He has also been known to assume the following forms:➤ Psychotic slashers
➤ Supernatural apparitions
➤ Ghosts
➤ Walking corpses
➤ A pack of bloodthirsty wolves
➤ Velociraptors and other dinosaurs
➤ Serpents
➤ Winged leeches and bats
➤ Vampires
➤ Giant insects
➤ The Creature from the Black Lagoon
➤ A swarm of large birds, bats, etc.
➤ Extraterrestrials
➤ Sea predators such as sharks, giant squids, etc.
➤ Movie monsters & more

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Solos

Gone

18+ | TW: blood/gore, violence, torture, profanity, death

Featuring @CHILDWEAPON

December 15th, 2020

The bullet came out of nowhere at a great distance.It went straight through the magician’s skull from hundreds of yards away, perfectly timed, accurate, and written with his name on it.Normally, a bullet strike to the head is not difficult to heal. Even at close range, he could recover within seconds in most situations, but even in the midst of death he was certain the bullet had been laced with some unknown substance, greatly inhibiting his ability to regenerate. Had he been shot in a different form other than his human one, the glamour would have been better off. His human form was his weakest.Just a few hours before, he had managed to murder a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 wearing human skin by the name of Jeffrey Erringer.The illusionist liked to travel through LAX frequently, and on his way to his terminal one day, he encountered a burly, sleepy-eyed Mr. Erringer as he was passing the airport’s smaller, more convenient version of Starbucks.The blood on the hefty man’s tacky, green Hawaiian shirt was telling enough, but it was the screams of Jeffrey’s victims crying out to the magician over the sounds of the public—the laughter of kids, jets on the runway, the rolling of suitcases, the hurried click-clack, click-clack of women’s heels on the hard floor—that nabbed his attention. As people bustled past him through the wide, sunlit airport, busily hurrying to their gates, he turned and made his way over to Starbucks.Jeffrey met his grisly end a week later, on a Wednesday. The lone man awoke at dawn in a log cabin by Lake Tahoe, moseying down to one of the minor lakes to fish for rainbow trout. A thick, morning fog had settled over the water, shrouding the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains in a low-hanging mist.Visibility was low, the air as still as glacial ice, and the temperature had dropped dramatically when Jeffrey set about casting his line. He had taken the day off from work at his crappy job at a storage unit facility, and fishing was an outlet for him when he was not stalking women and children in his rundown, Chevrolet van. If he was alone with his thoughts too long without finding some way to distract his corrupted mind, guilt would begin to arise like dead weight bobbing to the surface of his consciousness, and lately his guilt was making him experience things he never would have anticipated. Just the other day he thought he saw someone in his home. He debunked it as merely a shadow, a trick of the light, a trick of the mind, but somehow his brain could not bring himself to believe that was entirely the case. The next day, the telephone rang. He answered without a second thought, believing it was his boss, but to his utter shock he had heard a playback of his own murder victim’s voice. Her cries of pain and agony turned into awful, shrieking laughter in his ear. He had not slept soundly since.Jeffrey set his line aside and sat down in a big, orange lounge chair next to his tackle box to wait for a bite. A few minutes passed noiselessly. Dragonflies flew by and lighted on the water. The sun was fairly hidden by clouds, yet the usual sounds of the birds twittering in the trees were oddly absent. He had almost relaxed when he noticed something dark and ghostly floating over the water in the distance.It looked like the figure of a man, but the proportions were off, enough to make every hair on Jeffrey’s head stand on end. Something about the figure’s form was unnaturally long and grotesque. The lower half of its body was indistinct, and its face, though shrouded by the wisps of cool mountain air, was painted white like a clown—a statue clown, a gargoyle clown, with a sinister disposition lacking any semblance of humanity.The clown froze Mr. Erringer where he stood. In sheer terror, he expected the eerie apparition to move toward him, but it only stared through the fog with a craggy, expectant grin on its transparent visage.Then something slapped down onto one of his mud-caked boots. Halfway in and halfway out of the murky water was the torso of a dead woman. Her naked form was coated in dirt, her face and most of her body eaten through to the bone. The lake lapped hungrily at her bluish, bloated legs, and what remained of her skin clung to her porous skeleton in pale, waterlogged patches like the weakened outer layer of a bruised, summer pear.“𝐽𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑦𝑦𝑦𝑦𝑦…” she gurgled in a mushy, putrid voice as she feverishly crawled up his legs.A choked sob retched forth and caught in the man’s throat as he fell backward. Despite the decay, he realized who she was—his victim from just a few weeks before, a middle-aged woman he had abducted in the middle of the day while she was taking a hike. His jaw fell open in a voiceless scream of terror.He had left her body in a corn field on an abandoned farm somewhere further north, and as he stared into her sunken eye sockets, he could still see the rotten pile of corn stalks he had left her lying in, swarming and buzzing in the back of her skull like an unforgiving jungle.Unable to scream or shout for help, he could only watch as the woman crawled up his body. Daunted, he reached blindly for the gun in his tackle box, hands trembling violently. She latched her bony death grip around his scruffy throat, and as she crushed his windpipe, she snapped his neck like a cheap toothpick. That was earlier in the day.It was late Wednesday evening when the magician started for home in a black Bugatti Chiron. It was a rare supercar with only 500 made in the world, allowing him to travel long distances at incredible speeds if he needed to. He was driving back to LA along a winding, two-lane street near Echo Lake—a broad, scenic road with tall, dense forest on either side, and a dark green Toyota was out in front of him with one of the headlights busted out.There was a bright, yellow sticker in the shape of a stop sign stuck to the bumper underneath. In bold, red lettering, it shouted, ‘Baby on Board!’ and something about it had the desired effect on him because he kept a relatively safe distance.The car was moving slowly, just below the speed limit. They were the only two cars driving southbound for miles, but taking his time was not an issue. He could tell the driver was female with a little boy that could not be more than five years old in the back seat.The boy had black, curly hair and large, brown eyes. He kept turning around to peer at Stryder several times through the various stuffed animals lining the back window with their sparkling, multi-colored irises and sewn-on grins.Something about the kid reminded him of someone he knew. The magician turned on some music. “Are You In?” by Incubus, his favorite band, was playing when he heard a small voice speak to him in his mind.(Hi...) said the child in the green Toyota.His attention had settled on the road ahead, but when the voice reached him, his eyes came back to rest on the curly-haired boy. It was not apparent before. Perhaps he was too distracted, but the kid shined. He shined, and knew how to hide it well. Smart kid. Stryder could sense the boy’s shine across the space between the cars just as much as his present fear, and without trying to read him, he knew what he was afraid of—his father screaming at his mother over the phone.The child was clutching a stuffed bunny in a blue sweater as he looked back at Stryder, and the bunny was holding a little carrot. He never considered himself particularly good with kids, but he could see the boy was seeking a distraction.(Hi...) the magician thought back to the child. (Is that Peter Rabbit?)The little boy nodded slowly. (Yeah... He’s my fav-ur-ite.)(He knows good food when he sees it. Carrots are healthy for you.)(Carrots are yucky.)(You might grow to like them some day… Peter Rabbit eats his carrots. How else is he able to run from mean, old Mr. McGregor?)(That’s what mommy says, too.)(Moms are smart.)(. . . So, carrots will make me run fast?)(Of course.)(Really?)(Yeah, why not? You know Popeye? If spinach makes Popeye strong, just think about what carrots can do.)He could see the child contemplating this logic on his face, brows furrowing intensely, as if he was attempting to crack some complicated, mathematical code only known to him. Then he turned around.Stryder thought the conversation was over, and he moved to turn the volume up on his stereo when the kid thought-spoke again, sounding calmer than before.(Thanks, mister.)(For what?)(Listening...)There was the sudden sound of glass breaking.Then the Toyota lurched to the left in front of him, swerving off the side of the road. It screeched and crashed through the darkest part of the woods, losing all control. Turning and catching over the bend of a convoluted system of tree roots further into the woods, it twisted through the air and landed upside-down in Echo Lake like a broken, toy car.The tires of Stryder’s sports car squealed to a halt as he pulled over, getting out of his vehicle to see the panicked mud tracks etched into the ground like the signature on a death certificate.He ran and followed the tracks through the woods, his fingers brushing the gnarled trunks of the trees to the water’s edge, and saw the tires of the Toyota still spinning as they faced the brisk night sky. The car was sinking.“Mommy! Mom!” he heard the little boy shriek and cry from inside.The mother was dead.He could see she was dead through the horrific, bloody visions the little boy was hurling into the magician’s mind in a hyper state of panic.(HELP ME! PLEASE, HELP!)There was no time. The car was filling up with water quickly, and the sounds of desperate screams were muffled through the wreck, like a trapped rabbit in a snare. Stryder ran forward, taking off his blazer. His attention was fully focused on saving the child, getting him out of there, when everything cut to black.He did not wake up right away, and he was not sure how long he lay dead.Lying on his back, viscous liquid pooled heavily underneath the illusionist as he awoke. His head stung with a pain he knew well—the pain of death. The first time he had encountered it, he was a child.His ears were ringing, as if he had been standing next to an explosion, and whatever toxin the bullet was laced with made gravity seem insurmountable. Like metal stuck against a giant magnet, his limbs felt like they weighed a thousand tons, and the pain in his body was a slow, paralyzing burn like brutal war fire. His breathing was uneven. He could barely move.An army of stars gazed forlornly down at him between the sighing, evergreen trees as he suddenly remembered the little boy in the green Toyota. The screams had stopped. There was no one around, and the air smelled strongly of cloying dirt, lake water. It was humid and freezing. If there were any passing cars on the distant, isolated road, he could not hear them, and they did not care. In the middle of the woodsy silence, he found the remains of the mental thread the curly-haired boy had used to communicate with him.Like catching a glimpse of something terrible, something dead and hanging in the dark through the eye of an attic keyhole, he saw the boy in that horrible mental thread for a split second, underwater, lifeless, encased in a watery darkness, and Stryder felt tears spring unbidden to his eyes.His brows pinched together, and a broken, breathy sigh escaped him as he looked toward the water. The submerged image of the Toyota was a morose, silent grave. He let his head fall back against the bank and closed his eyes, despondent, guilt-ridden by the failure.(I’m sorry, kid...) he thought into the silence.“Whoops...” a silly, clown-like voice, his own voice, giggled. “Better get up!” the voice warned, sounding far off. “Or not.”Focusing on that voice in his mind, he tried to corner it, become it, but it was too far off. The faint snapping of twigs slowly greeted him to his left, and the wind chill dropped several degrees.A woman with thick eyeliner approached from the shadows of the forest and stomped a black, winter boot down into his chest, pinning him against the soil and fallen pine needles.“You’re Luke Stryder?” the woman said flatly in a faint Russian accent.Even in the canopied darkness, he could still make out the woman’s sharp features. She was a skinny lady in her twenties with gaunt cheekbones, pale skin, maroon lipstick, and shining irises like two full moons—the telltale sign of a steam-eater. Although she looked young, he could tell by the glow of steam swirling behind her pupils that she was much older than what her physical appearance let on. She had dark brown hair cut just below her shoulders, and she was pointing a 9mm handgun straight at his head with a countenance like stone. If Stryder sensed any others with her, they were staying well out of his sight. He gave her a pointed look.“So, you tried to kill me without knowing for sure?” he replied coldly.Her boot pressed him harder into the ground, and a soft breath was forced out of his lungs.“Of course, you want to play the tough guy, but let’s face it...”She lifted her arm and proceeded to calmly shoot several bullets through his torso and one through his brain, like taking an extra precaution with a large predator in the wild, and something died temporarily in Stryder’s eyes as the light left him again. His head hit the ground, body going limp, eyelids falling. He did not move. Every time he collapsed into death, it chipped away at his tenacity. He regained his breath seconds later, yanked out of death’s gaping mouth with dizzy, iridescent eyes.“. . . You’re gonna die here permanently if you don’t shut up and hold still,” said the woman callously, pulling a syringe out into view and taking the cap off.As she straddled him, the blurry figures in the dark leaned in eagerly while she pinned him down, injecting his neck with a clear, foreign substance. A pained shudder rolled through his body as he growled through clenched teeth, recoiling from the toxic substance. It burned like hydrofluoric acid throughout his veins, and every time he moved, the pain kicked up a notch, consuming what little mobility he thought he had. The back of his hands slowly fell to the floor as his eyelids drooped. His heartbeat slowed. The fight in him dissipated.“Done...” she whispered in a business-like tone, although it sounded more like a report.She then reached into his pants’ pocket, pulling out a thin, slender knife with a distinctive emblem carved into the handle for examination. The emblem depicted a white rabbit wearing a black mask, and for a moment, he saw the exact same symbol tattooed on her wrist.“Is this how you were trying to find us?” She put a hand in her coat’s pocket as she stood up, getting off of him. “Now, now... We can’t have that. Not yet, anyway... You’ve killed enough of our men already. Could have been one of them—a leader, perhaps—if you weren’t so soft.”Stryder’s voice sounded strangely remote and floaty to him as he replied. “You say that like I need your little band of circus freaks. I’m running my own show.”“Yes, and look where working alone has gotten you...”“Yeah, well, I’m not like you,” he said with a weak laugh, addressing the obscured figures in the trees. “Torturing the innocent…You can’t get any lower than that… And it doesn’t matter how many shadows you hide in either. I’ll find you all—one by one.”She pointed her gun at his head more firmly, using her boot to press him harder into the ground, as if to remind him to watch his mouth.“So, a few children have to die… What the fuck is that to you? If you just had a taste, you’d never go back…” she spat disdainfully. “We work our asses off to maintain our youth. We hunt for survival. In a way, we are very much alike... And you…?” She shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips. “You don’t even have to raise a finger… Forever young. Must be nice, not having to commit to death’s door. I’ve already seen you die a few times, and it never gets old… but I’m waiting for the grand finale… We all are.”There were footsteps circling around him, like a pack of hungry wolves waiting to tear into fresh meat.

She kneeled down, holding the knife forth, twisting it in her hand, and stabbing it into his shoulder without warning. A sound like suppressed anguish left him as he flinched, writhing.“Pain purifies steam…” the steam-eater purred as she pulled at his hair, using the blade to cut a harsh, bloody line down the length of his collarbone. “And you are almost ready, dear... It is a process, giving you all your doses, but a rare delicacy must be savored…”She caressed his cheek, voice laden with a sadistic, mocking tone. “That boy, too… What’s his name? We’ve never noticed him before...”Fear gripped his heart like dead, strangling hands mercilessly clenched together in rigor mortis. At her words, some otherworldly light ignited in Stryder’s blue-green eyes as his thoughts traveled back to Salem, wherever he was. How had they seen him? The kid was back in LA somewhere, oblivious, completely unaware of the 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 that had taken notice of him, and he was miles away, powerless to get up. It was a living nightmare.In that moment, he made a dire decision, one that would leave him completely vulnerable.Gathering all his dying energy and power, Stryder sent it miles away from himself, along the California highways, under the streets, through the sewers, back over the treetops and skyscrapers and clouds and city lights directly to Salem, directly to his mind. It took a matter of seconds to fortify the illusory shield of invisibility around the telekinetic boy, making it nigh impossible for any predator to lay eyes on him, nor sense his shine for a time. It was all he could do.Stryder thought of the child much like a son, although he refused to admit it. At first, he was unwilling to accept the thought of a kid in his life. He tried to tell him to stay away, that it would be better—safer—for him if he did, but Salem never liked to listen, and now it was difficult to picture life without the child. If anything happened to him, he did not know what he would do. Anxiety ravenously tore at the young man like a thousand, starving hands hungrily clutching up at him from the damp forest floor. With his mobility finally stirring from all the adrenaline, his legs sought purchase in the soil, trying to get up, trying to regain control, but the poison in his veins had done its work.“Touch him, and I’ll kill you,” he threatened, his voice darkening as he leaned into the blade against his neck. Blood collected and dribbled into his clothes.“You don’t scare me,” she said mockingly as she stood once more, shoving her foot down into his chest again and leaning forward on her knee. “He’s a cute kid. Something about him seems different… We’ve noticed a little glimmer there. Something that wasn’t so visible to us before. So, tell me, Stryder… What is his name?”Her smile grew on her face like a twisted Cheshire cat, and his jaw set, eyes narrowing at her disgraceful, inhuman aura. The essence of the evil emanating from her was revolting, and he did not answer.“We know you’re hiding him,” she said wickedly. “You seem to care for that child like he’s your own, but you won’t be here to protect him for much longer. You’ll be ours soon... and then we will have his steam, too.”Everything happened within seconds, too quickly for the others to react. A massive surge of willpower had been building within the illusionist since she mentioned Salem, and he forced himself to move through the pain.Sitting up, his vision going quickly, Stryder knocked the gun aside and seized her arm, dragging the woman down to him. The gun flew sideways into a tree, landing uselessly in the dirt while he crushed her bones in his grip, pulling her head back roughly by her hair.Her breath caught fearfully in her chest, and she screamed a horrible, ragged scream, seeing his face change into the stuff of nightmares—wide-eyed, demented, manic. His eyes drew back into his skull, and while she jolted—plunging the white rabbit knife deep into his chest, leering over him with her boots digging into the soil to gain leverage over the taller man—he lurched forward, ripping into her throat with multiple sets of piercing teeth.High-pitched howls rent the air, and the stab wound affected him immediately. For his heart had always been his weakness in his human form, and she had impaled it straight through its center. Stryder flinched and tensed around the metal in his chest, his face turning back to normal, and he groaned. Going limp, his eyelids became heavy as she cruelly shoved him back down beneath her into the earth.The woman’s throat gushed endlessly with a fountain of blood. Her face screwed up tightly in searing pain, and she walked a few steps away, collapsing into a pile of sticky pine needles.Shrieking with animalistic agony, the woman’s body violently proceeded to contort and shake. Her voice deepened, trembling, wailing. Her breath heaved in her chest. Her skin was a living fire, and her limbs were flailing wildly. Like a wraith that was born of ash and fury, she disintegrated into a thick dust with a drawn out cry, her voice fading on the wind.Someone ran forward then, bellowing bloody murder, but Stryder was no longer aware of anything around him. The substance in his system had sent his body into shock, and he started to seize on the ground helplessly.Slipping into a psychotic rage, figures approached the magician from the woods with quick, determined footsteps and began to viciously stab at him with the malice of pure vengeance, bringing hooked knives down deeply into his body once, twice, three times, four times, five, six, seven, eight… Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump...The sound of the knives were still ongoing when Stryder’s fingers twitched on the floor. Then he sighed—a long, defeated sigh—and stopped moving as his glowing, golden eyes rolled back, all senses slowly drifting away from him like a single, red balloon floating on the breeze.“Stop…” said a dwindling voice. “We need him alive…”

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Rules

➤ 𝐈. This account does not accept duplicates nor being a duplicate once mains/ships are established. I want all of my muse's connections to feel special. Therefore if our muses have a connection Stryder will not interact with accounts featuring the same face-claim as your muse. Likewise if I notice mains/ships interacting with other muses bearing the same face-claim as Stryder I will probably end the connection.Face-claim chasing will not be tolerated. While I do not advocate gatekeeping celebrities I reserve the right to gatekeep my own character.➤ 𝐈𝐈. My best friend (@plutopolis) and I have mutually agreed that we will not ship our muses with any character that tries to ship with both Stryder and Bowie. Our characters have always existed in the same universe so romantic advances toward both of our muses will not be permitted.➤ 𝐈𝐈𝐈. Hatred on the basis of sex, race, religion, etc. will not be tolerated, and I will soft-block/block anyone in violation of this.➤ 𝐈𝐕. Due to the presence of mature themes on this account I will not write with minors nor will I follow an account unless the writer is 18+ with their age explicitly stated on their page.

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Warnings & Disclaimers

This is a 21+ character intended for the Stephen King universe, but crossovers are always applicable and highly encouraged.Currently, this muse is multi-ship/multi-verse. There is a possibility of going single-ship but only with high chemistry.Random interactions/banter are always welcome. If you would like to plot or simply discuss a connection please send a message directly. I'm always looking for new writing partners.This account is timeline flexible and features mature, R-rated, horror themes that are subject to appear at any time, including but not limited to kidnapping, explicit blood/gore, graphic depictions of murder, torture, and dismemberment, references to sexual content, assault, and situations, profanity, drugs, mental illness and manipulation, etc. If any of these themes make you uncomfortable feel free to unfollow or block.Please be aware that the presence of these themes does not mean I, as the writer, condone or approve of the aforementioned content as everything I write is implemented for the sake of storytelling purposes or personal relevance. I will not entertain any plots concerning rape, sexual abuse, racial/gender hatred or intolerance, etc.It's important to note that while I'm not opposed to DM roleplay I do not accept requests for lewd or smut. My writing style is primarily story-driven, and I prefer to focus on character development with shipping partners more than anything. Depending on the circumstances and status of the relationship, however, written implications may be provided.Most of the GIFs I post are mine as I do make them myself. Screencaps, edits, and layouts are also created by me.If I do not get back to you in a timely manner please know that I am not ignoring you. My schedule is very busy, and real life obligations tend to pull me away from my writing on the daily. However, any mentions I get will be read in-depth and highly appreciated as I will always do my best to reply to everyone.I encourage you to send a gentle reminder or inquiry via DMs if you are ever concerned about a period of inactivity.Likewise if you happen to forget a response, no big deal. Respond whenever you are ready, and please don't be afraid to communicate or ask questions.Thank you for reading!@RedrumArtist | @DeadlightsClown

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