Darkness: It was his one true friend. It was the one thing in his life he was guaranteed to have forever. Death was already given to him and placed in front of his eyes.
What else could possibly happen to him now? Braxton knew that in this very moment, he was practically invincible.
Nothing could touch him now, as he sat in a chair amongst the darkness of the area he was in.
His dark appearance gave him a sense of power and, pride.
It was almost interesting that he felt this powerful over something as minuscule and foolish.

Braxton reached over to the nearby table and grabbed the pack of smokes, pulling one from the paper package.
With great smoothness, he placed it between his lips and introduced the flickering flame from his lighter to the paper.
The sound of the paper coming alive and the tobacco sizzling was a pleasing symphony in his ears as he saw the cherry come to life.
He killed the flame and inhaled greatly. That pleasing taste hit his brain and the back of his throat.
That burn from the tobacco was pleasing to him as he shut his eyes and removed the cigarette from his lips as he blew the smoke from his lungs and watched the grey color the darkness.
Braxton would smirk wickedly as he flicked his cigarette towards the closest ash tray and licked at his lips.
"It's like the world is at my finger tips, and I can control whomever and whatever I want..
The Master of Puppets; I pull the strings and I take what I want from them."
He said aloud to himself as he took another drag from the cigarette, but chose to hold the smoke in for a moment longer.

He wanted that burn to scorch his insides, and the nicotine to enter his bloodstream so he could feel that chemical rush.
It was weird to many, but to Braxton, it's what he liked feeling.
He had a fascination with feeling some sort of pain, be it from the elements, psychical contact or even emotional quarrels.
He wasn't per say a masochist. But his fascination of pain may just make him a sadist.
Or maybe he was just, obsessed with the concept of pain since he was out through so much of it himself.
Just thinking about that bitch that burned him, and those people that tore him from his family caused his blood to boil. He could feel the heat rush through his veins and into the core of his chest.
He could feel his chest sting a little, and he would scoff to himself.
"Humph... Those other fools are lucky they're deep in the ground where they belong."

Braxton said to himself, flicking the butt of his cigarette and sending some more ash flying into the ash tray, as he would take another drag and exhale.
But he checked the time on his watch, and would see that he'd spent more than enough time in the darkness. He got up from his seat and would walk to the front door. With his cigarette in his mouth, he open the door and locked it from behind.
Lucky for Braxton, this building was not frequented by squatters or many others.
If anyone should happen to stumble upon his hideaway, he could easily fix that, and in a nonviolent way as well.
Braxton knew he was a dangerous person. And he would flaunt it proudly as he wondered from the building and he was greeted by the casted light of the sun coming up.
This time of day was nice for Braxton, as it reminded him of waking up early to attend to the needs of the old farm.

But that was in the past, and he used it as fuel for his anger and rage.
Dressed in a black leather jacket, black shirt and rugged navy blue jeans with black boots, he walked down the street of the Western side of Sacrosanct.
He took another deep drag of his cigarette and would notice it was finished. He exhaled deeply and smashed the cigarette under his boot, only to pull out another cigarette and light it just as fast.
From being a man from Colonial times, he quickly adapted to normal society habits and speech.
Perhaps this was due to him becoming a Fae. Or maybe he wasn't a dull witted as most.
Whatever the case, Braxton grew annoyed with seeing a lot of run down buildings.
Was this part of town much like the slums of the old town he passed through once?
Or was it just for the lost souls or for those people who were exiled from the comfortable lifestyle of living in the big city?

Whatever the reason, Braxton found himself in disgust with every rugged and dirty face he saw, as he would take occasional drags from his cigarette and flick ash on the street.
"Wonder who I'll have the unfortunate favor of meeting... That's how these outings usually go.."
He would state with sheer disgust and a scowl on his face, looking at his cigarette and seeing there was still a good amount left.
He shrugged and took yet another drag.
He didn't find it odd that he could taking drugs, and chain smoking.
Besides, it wasn't like he was susceptible to the same things Humans were.
It was just one perk to him being of the Fae, but he had a feeling he'd have more that than going for him as he would see a face that didn't belong on this side of town come into his line of sight...
"Well, well, well... What do we have here?"
He asked himself as he flicked some ash from his cigarette with great ease.