(Just a little sample involving a demon character I've tabletopped and freeformed for nearly 10 years now)
The demon took a long draw off the cigarillo which was clenched in his teeth at the corner of his mouth. The tip lit up, casting a reddish glow upon his face in the dark alleyway. The left corner of his lips curled up in an amused smirk as he looked down at the homeless man's body. Everything up till now had progressed as he'd planned, but there was something else now... a slight tingle that constantly kept the hair on the back of his neck on end. Perhaps he'd moved too fast. Perhaps he'd been to overt on several occasions. The slight burn in his body's lungs brought him back to the present situation and he exhaled the smoke through his nostrils before he took another long drag. He cocked his head to one side as his ashen gray eyes studied the man. He was no longer dressed for the weather; fingerless woolen gloves, tattered pair of slacks, socks with patches on the heels and the left big toe exposed. His head was bare, the hair freshly shaved, along with that on his face and chest. The man's torso was carved with scripture, most from the book of Revelations. The curious thing was that there was very little blood, as each letter shaped wound had been cauterized as it was cut. The man's eyes were removed, and his bare scalp had been adorned with a variety of runes, angelic script to be exact.
Once again he exhaled the smoke he held in his body's lungs for much, much longer than any human should have been able to. He stayed crouched and staring at the man's body as the footprints approached him from behind. His amused smirk disappeared as he reached up to his lips with leather clad fingers and plucked the cigarillo from the corner of his mouth. His hand shifted and reached out to the dead man before him. Upon the man's left shoulder, he snuffed the life from the rolled tobacco before he flicked it aside down the alley. He stared at the body a few moments longer before he rose to his feet and ran his hands over his great coat then turned around to finally face his company. It was another homeless man. A man named George that his pet psychologist had treated, and under his suggestions and pulls of her puppet strings, he had released. The man was quite unstable and had anything but a solid grip on reality, the cost of years of drug and alcohol abuse. To anyone else, George would appear as if he was simply cold and shivering, but he knew better, he knew so so so much better. The man was a husk of his former self thanks to he and his pet at the institution. Leviticus reached out and clasped a hand on George's shoulder, the man lurched in his boots as his head whipped around and focused on Levi's face, eyes as wide as saucers.
"You know what to do with him... where he's supposed to go... Don't you George?"
The man didn't reply, he just stared up at Levi, his pupils growing wider the longer he stared. Levi cleared his throat and squeezed George's shoulder a bit harder before he spoke again.
"Come now George, back at the institute you were so eager to please, so willing to carry out this simple task. It would be a shame if we had to give you another treatment, wouldn't it George? Remember, I am a man of my word, you do this and I'll stop the voices, the visions, I will give you peace... tranquility... complete and total bliss. So, George, you are going to fulfill my wishes aren't you?"
The shivering homeless man stared up at Leviticus for many a long moment before he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and return to his body. His eyes blinked rapidly for several seconds and he shook his head, which removed the residual haze. His parched, cracked lips slowly parted and hung open for a moment before a raspy voice fought it's way out.
"Yes... yes... an'thing... an'thing to not go back there, t'not see you... her... unnatural. Y...y...you promised... when this is over... peace. I... I... I'll do an'thin for it now..."
Levi grinned as he reached out and lightly caressed George's hairy cheek with the back of his hand. But the calming touch was short lived. Leviticus' hand twisted and took hold of George by the throat and began to squeeze. The amused smirk returned as he turned and brought George around in front of him and forced him to look down at the dead man tossed carelessly on a pile of garbage bags.
"Good man, George, good man. I knew I could rely on you. But remember, you deviate even the slightest bit from what we talked about and what you experienced and what you saw will pale in comparison to what will await you... with open, loving arms."
Leviticus couldn't help but laugh as his fingers uncurled from George's throat and he shoved the man forward. George flailed as he tumbled forward into the heap of garbage bags the dead man was using as a bed. Without another word, Leviticus turned and wound his scarf around his throat to conceal the white collar which flagged him as a member of the clergy. A perverse but amusing cover, a demon, a fallen angel, masquerading as a member of the church and an advocate for the mentally ill. He stuffed his leather clad fingers into the pockets of his coat as he walked down the alleyway and took a left turn at it's mouth out onto the sidewalk. Silently he walked on, ignoring the people he passed by... annoying flies that would soon be swatted. A host of souls that would make his stock rise. When the news of the man covered with scripture reached the ears of the patients at the institute, things would be thrown into a frenzy, they would come to believe his words, his distorted reality he fed them as truth. Oh it would be glorious. He was suddenly drawn out of his thoughts as he came to the stop in the middle of a crosswalk. There was that feeling again on the back of his neck. His head twisted from side to side as his eyes scanned those who shared the night air with him. When his eyes locked on a young woman dressed in clothing which had not a thread dirtied, he grinned directly at her. Fashionable, too much for her age in this area, especially at this time of night. It was clear to him why the back of his neck had felt that way now. They'd finally sent someone to deal with him.
About time, he thought to himself, as the wheels in his mind began to turn, but then ground to a halt at the sound of a car horn. Leviticus took a last long look at the woman before he turned and winked at the irate man behind the wheel of taxi, then continued on his path towards the church he'd defiled and sat up shop in. He knew she would follow in his footsteps, but that let him choose the grounds and terms on which they would meet, and he would make sure she wouldn't have the home team advantage. A light chuckle escaped his lips as he pictured tearing her wings off like that of a fly. He would show her the true, helpless nature of her so called God. A God who would abandon her to such pain, torment and corruption. A God that would look the other way as his child falls out of his grace. He pursed his lips and began to whistle lightly as he set out on the last leg of the walk to his church, the lyrics sounding in his head. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Ha-a-lay-lu-yah!