sometimes I make fun of people.
Pheonix Dark hopped on his grim motorcycle, two cigarettes sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He swallowed them both, relishing the burn as they made their way down his throat. Zipping up his leather jacket, flaming skull blazing on the back, and cracking his knuckles, tattooed with 'Hate' and 'Kill' across their surface, he screeched into the night with the fury of hell roaring from the engine, and as he rode off, one could read the word, carved into the back of his head with an icepick: Badass.