Disgust [Open]

[Azrael]

San Francisco.

Why did it have to be San Francisco?

Mike was sitting on one of those picturesque park benches, overlooking a steep road down towards the ocean. The city was so beautiful... why did the Plus scum have to overrun this one? It was bad enough that they made up a good chunk of Chicago, but San Francisco took it to a whole other level. Every inch of his skin crawled as each passerby strolled through the park, going through their daily lives, unknowingly walking by a shifter filled with hate.

For once, he had an excuse to not hide his sharpened teeth. It wasn't something Michael relished, but it made him fit in a little more, making sure people wouldn't mistake him as human. To everyone nearby, he looked like just another fucked up Plus, sitting on a park bench, glowering at the nearby pigeons.

He'd come solely for the assembly of Pluses that Madelyn Moriarty had supposedly called. He'd hear the rumors, that she was going to rally towards killing humans and making Pluses the dominant species. She was everything he hated about the Plus scum that clung to different parts of America, and he wasn't going to have any of it. If Mike had the chance, he'd deal with her himself, but he had to be careful in San Francisco. The shifter would have to be happy with just listening to her plans and plot later.

The sun was slowly dipping in the sky as Michael leaned back against the park bench and took the world around him in. If he closed his eyes, he could almost be peaceful... until another Plus walked by. Crinkling his nose, he kicked one of the pidgeons away and grumbled to himself. <Fuck this damn city. I can't wait to get the hell out of here.>

[Daniel Silver]

As the sound of the waves gently rolling along the coast drifted to Daniel's ears, he was reminded of why he, in a way, was a little fond of the ocean. Not because of the appeal of swimsuits, irritating surf enthusiasm or the romanticized "family getaway", but for the creatures that dwelled within it. Powerful, hungry predators, much like Daniel himself. As he stared across the water, he thought about sharks. Survivors of the prehistoric genocide that wiped out much larger creatures than themselves, sharks were relentless killers, living day-to-day by eating those smaller than themselves. Genetic coding had prevailed in the shark, with only an decrease in size as an evolutionary drawback. But size didn't matter. He knew this fact very, very well. Men could not stand up to sharks. 

Men could not stand up to Daniel.

Hungry, Daniel. The raspy, dull tone in his mind reminded Daniel of how long it had been since he last fed. He had taken a life in Reno, leaving the remains in a men's bus station restroom, but that had been nearly three days ago. The burning sensation had been growing stronger in the back of his neck, and he was having trouble hearing again. He had wanted to wait until he had fully established a base of sorts in San Francisco, but he was having no such luck. Homeless shelters were no place for him to stay, oh no, he had learned from that mistake back in Texas. The homeless had a way about them, had some way of knowing what he was. Maybe it was the look in his eyes. Maybe it was the way they had found him devouring the life out of one of their own. It was really hard to tell these days. Or maybe Daniel was just thinking it was hard. Humanity had become a bit of a blur when it came to the aspect of their own name. Huuuuuuungry.

[Shut up, I heard you the first time. We will eat, we will. Give me. . .time. Time.] As Daniel turned to walk back up the sloping road, his head shot up, a familiar feeling emanating from the front of his skull. As he turned his head to a street to the left, he saw him: a man, in his late forties, graying hair. Wore a suit that was almost a size too small. Yammering away on a cellphone sandwiched between his disgusting, pudgy fingers. Fat. Slow. He knew the man was special, but not how. Maybe he was a Plus, like him. Maybe he was a witch in disguise, or an awful angel, or, or- Food. He's food. Kill the fat fuck, eat his life, eat him whole. A smirk creeped it's way across Daniel's face, and he nodded rapidly. [Yes. Yes, I'll eat the fucker whole. Leave him wasted, nothing, my prey, my prey.] Daniel flipped the hood of his jacket up, adjusted the straps of his backpack and followed the man across the street, staying several paces behind him as he passed through a park, matching his steps. Following him like a shark follows it's dinner. Like predator to it's prey.

As Daniel quickened his pace, his head began to sing to him again. Another. Another! More! His eyes flew to a park bench, where another man sat, dark skin almost glowing against the California sunset on the water. He stopped dead in front of the man, mid-step, and almost began to panic. Did he chase the whale, or switch to the new prey? No, the fat one! The dark one can wait! We will have both! Shaking his head, Daniel quickly turned back to his target, the man in the suit, and continued with his hunt.

For some reason though, his mind went back to sharks.

[Azrael]

As he listened to the sound of the waves off in the distance, Mike was startled from dozing off by the barrel of a man who nearly crashed into him on his way past the bench. "Oi!" he snapped, glaring at the absentminded man, who simply continued on his way. <Piece of shit,> he grumbled, turning back to see, from up the hill, another figure beginning to approach the limit of the park. The figure had a hood up, so it took a moment to properly discern features, but once his face came into view, Mike froze.

He was almost startled by how out of place it all seemed. Everyone else was going about their lives normally, but this one was different. There was this... this energy about him. It was something Michael knew all too well, something he recognized from the depths of his own being. It was feral, angry, irrational... and most importantly, thirsty for blood. The look upon his face, it was one that had graced Mike's own countless times as he cornered some pathetic Plus in a dank alleyway. It was the sort of look that predators gave to prey, and this waif-like teenager was not the prey.

The shifter was still debating what exactly he should do when the teen froze in front of him. It was almost as if someone had cut the power to his limbs, leaving him almost motionless as his foot slowly came down. Maybe it was just Mike's imagination, but there was this momentary glance the two of them shared that sent a chill down his spine. In that moment, he saw this flash of near panic, but then... a different look that the other side of him seethed at.

The predator was picking which of its prey it would follow.

Then the moment was gone. An almost imperceptible shake of his head and the teenager continued on, following the larger man. Michael felt dazed for a moment, still processing the momentary mental fight for dominance. But his other side felt differently. It saw red, and the shifter felt himself giving in to the rage alarmingly quickly. <No, not here!> he snapped, almost powerless to his own urges as he stood up and began to follow the teenager. <Not in Plus Central...>

Michael could feel the change beginning as he fought desperately to keep himself in his human form. He felt himself grow a few inches taller as his hands spasmed, the claw like nails of his hybrid form beginning to grow in. His nostrils flattened as he began to smell the raw, viceral hunger coming from this boy. His skin was starting to harden too, darkening with hints of blue as Michael finally managed to halt the changes, at least temporarily.

His other side would not give up the chase. Not with a teenager who thought he could possible make a meal out of this shifter.

[Daniel Silver]

Down the pathways, around the corners, Daniel hounded his prey like he was starving, because frankly, he was. In his haste to feed, though, he might have given away his position: the fat man had begun to speed up. He tried to act casual, but Daniel knew that he had to make his kill fast, before his dinner decided to walk into a police station. Never losing pace with his target, Daniel quickly lifted his left hand, flinging a nearby trashcan into the man's legs, toppling him over the street's curb. Kill it, while it's wounded.  Moving in quickly, Daniel bent down, leaning in a little too close to the man's face. As another couple passed by on the side, Daniel took a step back, extending his left hand to the man. [Gosh mister, are you okay? Let me help you up!] It had been a while since Daniel had needed to feign sincerity, and it showed: his tone was way off, and the words came out strange, like they were put together and phrased wrong. The man shrank away from Daniel's hand, sputtering and gasping like a fat fish out of water. [G-get away from me! What the hell are you?! Someone, help! Please, h-] The man's pleas were cut short, however, when he noticed the barrel of a revolver sticking out of Daniel's right jacket sleeve. One bullet was all he had, but one was all he really needed.

With an actual smile plastered on his face, Daniel obliged to answer his dinner, however irrelevant the question may have been. [It doesn't matter what I am, it only matters what you are. And you're my dinner.]  This seemed to upset the man for some reason, but Daniel hardly understood why. The rationality of fear had only one hold on him, and that was when he was starved for life. As Daniel pulled the man to his feet, took him by the arm and led him down a side alley at gunpoint, that was all he could think about. All they could think about. So close. Wound it, then eat it live. We need it, need it Daniel!

As Daniel marched his next victim to what would inevitably be his death, he wondered what the smell that suddenly filled the alley could be. Perhaps that was this man's ability: he emitted noxious gas or fumes. Or maybe he had just shit his pants in fear. Wouldn't be the first time. Shoving the man into the alley's wall, he leveled the revolver at his meal's head, cracking another wide grin. The man fell to his knees and began crying, but before Daniel had the chance to finish the job, his skull went off like an alarm again. His head swiveled around so hard it looked like it was going to unscrew itself, and when Daniel saw what stood at the opposite mouth of the alley, his smile only grew wider. He was much taller than before, more animal-like, and his skin had changed colors slightly, but it was definitely the man from the park. The special. THE ONE FROM EARLIER! BOTH! WE EAT BOTH! NOW, NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW-

The shrieking in his head, coupled with the flaring pains in his shoulders and abdomen, only pushed Daniel further away from cognitive thought. [You made it. You found me, so I found you again, and now I can eat you, too.] Without looking, Daniel fires the revolver into the fat man's chest, the bang echoing out from the alley into the street. The man sobs loudly, then falls over on his side unconscious, blood pouring from his chest. Dropping the pistol, Daniel flips his backpack around his chest, strapping it on backwards. With a wave of his hand over the bag it opens, and two long, serrated kitchen knives float out of the bag. [EAT!] Daniel flicks his wrist forward, and both knives soar through the air, aiming at the newest addition to his dinner buffet.

[Azrael]

When the teenager disappeared into the alleyway after his target, Mike managed to slow himself down and stopped a few feet away, panting heavily. He was keenly aware of sticking out now, furtive whispers and glances coming from both sides of the street. <Stop this now, before things go from bad to worse,> Michael pleaded, desperately trying to fight his urge to go into the alley and tear the hooded guy limb from limb. Any trouble he caused now could jeopardize getting to hear the woman speak later, the entire reason he had come to this damned city. He just needed to leave it be.

That is, until he heard the pleas of the target begging for help, then getting cut off.

The shifter couldn't resist, not after that. It wasn't that he felt compelled to help this man. No, he relished those pleas from that sort of scum. They reminded him of the hunt, awakening that deep urge to finish the man off. No longer able to restrain himself, Mike pushed himself forward as he felt his face starting to shift more, becoming more angular as his shirt strained against his large form.

The sight he was greeted to was a puzzling one. As the shifter's bulky form came into view, the teenager turned to look at him, holding a gun against the fat Plus' chest. There was this crazed look upon his face, one that sent chills down even his animalistic side. This was an animal who was desperate, but for what? It took only a moment to process his words, though, and the shifter's nostrils flared. "Eat me?" Mike snarled. "That's a joke. Let's see if you've bit more off than you can chew, you little shit."

Michael didn't bat an eye when the teenager summoned out the two knives from his bag. <Telekinesis? I've seen worse,> he thought. The shifter stopped trying to restrain his changes, as a large tail burst forth from what was left of his clothing. He tensed up before diving forward, the second knife just grazing the hardened skin on his tail. With a roar, Mike stormed forward, focusing his sights on the fat man. <Let's see what happens when he loses a hard-earned meal. After all, killing Plus' is my job, no matter what fucking city it is.>

Making a relatively risky move, he lunged forward, managing to grasp the fat man's head with both of his clawed hands. With a quick pull, he snapped the Plus' neck, putting him out of his wretched misery. He knew it left him vulnerable for a few moments, but he could withstand whatever the kid threw at him. Panting, Michael took a step back before extending a hand and motioning for the teen to come at him again, giving him a mocking toothy grin. "Let's see what you got, kid."

[Daniel Silver]

As the now fully-formed were dodged Danny's attacks, he quickly floated out six more knives, varying from kitchen to combat, and held them in an arc around the front of his body. The new one was so silly, thinking it could make Daniel scared. He wasn't scared of anything anymore, except the hunger.[No, gonna swallow you up, eat your energy all up like i-] He was cut off when the shifter dove at him, attempting to grab him. Daniel rolled out of the way, shoving his back against the opposite alley wall, before moving his knife-shield back into position.

But the shifter hadn't lunged at him. He had went for the fat man, Daniel's prey! [No, no! NO! Don't don't don't PUT IT BACK PLEASE NO, PUT IT BACK PUT IT B-] CRACK! The man's head fell to one side, and Daniel's wide eyes only focused on the lifeless body now lying on the ground. He watched the final life leave the fat man's body in slow motion, and stared silently at the corpse for several seconds.

NO! KILL IT! TOOK OUR FOOD, TOOK IT! KILL IT DANIEL, KILL IT AND KILL IT AND KILL IIIIIT! Daniel began to shake violently, and his eyes shifted to the walking shark-man. He could feel the tears coming, but fought them back. The blades floating between the two of them began to wobble in the air, as if they were mourning alongside their master. Anger slowly crept on to Danny's face, and he bit his lip to hold in his screams. His hands shoot to the sides of his head, and he doubles over, muffling his screams by refusing to open his mouth. He stomps his feet, like a toddler in a tantrum, and then finally releases his roar, screaming as loud as he can at the concrete below him. His body shoots back up, and he raises both of his arms straight up into the air. Blood droplets fly from his mouth as he screams, [DIE DIE DIE DIEEEEE!]

He throws his arms forward, sending all six knives flying at his attacker. His attacker! In almost two seconds, Daniel quickly changed his opinion on sharks. Sharks were now complete assholes. [KILL YOU! KILL YOU, EAT YOU, END YOU, GONE FOREVER!]

[Azrael]

Michael had expected the teenager to react badly once he realized his kill had been stolen. To be honest, he was expecting a jab or two when he lunged, but he'd count his lucky stars on that one. But the telekinetic's reaction wasn't just bad, it was close to chilling. The new set of knives, the flash of red across his face, then the near tantrum... there was something seriously up with this kid, something bad. He didn't need the shivering knives or the hellish scream to prove that.

And he had just stolen the crazed kid's dinner too. Great.

Whatever the teenager thought he was going to do, Mike wouldn't let it happen - not if he had anything to say about it. The score of knives sent hurling at him were a problem though; the shifter tried to avoid them by flattening himself against the side of the alleyway, but cried out in pain as one embedded itself deep into his tail, while a second opened a shallow gash in his side. Grimacing, Michael reached down and, after taking a deep breath, yanked it out, sending another wave of pain up his body. <Oh, he's gonna fucking pay for that one,> he seethed, gripping the knife tightly in his hand.

"You can try, Plus, but you'll find it will be you who's on the menu for dinner tonight!" the shifter growled, quickly weighing his options. There wasn't much else in the alley that the kid could throw at him, unless there were more knives in that backpack of his. Unless the dead man's body went flying around, the kid didn't have too many options left. Deciding to take another risk, Mike dashed forward, surging to quickly close the gap between them. Throwing the knife first as a distraction straight at the teenager's head, he then leapt forward to grab the Plus by the neck and push him against the wall. <Let's see how he likes being pinned down himself.>

[Daniel Silver]

[STOP STOP STOP NOT DYING!] This shark-shifter's speed was starting to make Danny feel a little uneasy. Or maybe it was the fact that the searing pain of hunger had reached it's way into his lungs now. As a wave of nausea and pain reached up and grabbed hold of his airways, Daniel coughed into the sleeve of his jacket, and stared down at the blood that remained when he pulled back. Blood was not good, was never good. He needed to feed, soon, now. Three days had been too long, Theodore was starting to get mad, and he knew what came next. He would not die, not today, not because of some stupid shifter in his way. 

Of course, Daniel was way too wrapped up in his own problems to notice the one charging down the alley at him. By the time he looked up, all he saw was a knife flying his way. He raised his left hand in front of his face, trying to grab it with his mind, but he was seconds too late: the knife penetrated his hand, back-to-front, and Daniel screamed out in pain. He didn't have much time to react, though, as his opponent was quickly upon him, grabbing Danny by the throat and slamming him against the alley's wall. He could feel the nails digging into his flesh, could feel the weight the shifter was putting into his hold, and it wasn't a good sign that Daniel was starting to see spots in his vision. His breathing had been labored before he'd been put in the chokehold, and everything was now starting to blur.

Daniel's eyes frantically searched for a way out, an escape, when he spotted it: a broken bottle, sitting in the trash can next to his former dinner's corpse. Fighting back the tears of agony, Daniel curled his left hand as best as he could into a fist, and then brought the end of the knife in his palm down on Sharkboy's deathgrip as hard as he could. His right hand shot out towards the trash can, summoning the broken bottle to his other hand. He raised it high in the air, letting out an almost silent scream, and then swung as hard as he could at his aggressor. Ecologists were right: littering in the ocean really was bad for marine life.

[Azrael]

Michael was almost surprised at how successful the tactic was. He mentally winced as he watched the knife slice clean through the teen's palm, moments before he slammed the boy's frame against the wall. <Should've paid more attention,> he thought, grinning as his grip tightened around the Plus' neck. <Let's see how long it takes before he's forced to->

Mike's train of thought was cut off as a searing pain went through his hand. Roaring in pain, he realized the boy had stabbed him with the very same knife stuck in his hand. The shifter used his other hand to pull the boy's knife-pierced hand out of his own, but his grip was now noticeably weaker. "You'll... have to do better than that," Michael snapped, using his full frame to press the Plus against the wall. He bared his full set of teeth and leaned in close to the teen's face, hoping some intimidation might get the kid to beg. He loved when his victims had to beg.

Then, out of seemingly nowhere, he saw a broken bottle streak straight towards him. Unable to avoid it, he bellowed as the bottle embedded itself into the side of his head. Michael stumbled back, unable to keep a firm grip on the teenager as he grappled with the bottle, now stuck mere inches from his eye. Taking a deep breath, Michael grasped it and pulled it out, roaring in pain as he hurled it at the Plus. Blood was pooling around his left eye, and he had to hold his injured hand to the spot where the glass had pierced through his skin to keep his vision from blurring badly. <Fuck this kid,> he gasped. <And fuck his telekinesis.> Curling his uninjured hand into a fist, he growled before throwing a punch at the Plus, hoping a well-timed clock to the head might do more damage than his death-grip had.

[Daniel Silver]

When Daniel hit the ground, he stayed there. The black spots in his vision slowly faded out, and when everything came back into view, he had exactly three seconds to get his shit together before a bottle smashed into his face. Deciding that attempting a dodge was more effort than it was worth, he tucked his head into his knees and absorbed the glass bottle with the top of his skull. As the welts of pain began cropping up on the top of his head, Daniel took a moment to asses the situation he found himself in. Staring up at the almost eight-foot land shark in front of him, Danny wondered if this fight was completely necessary right now.

Thought, he didn't have much time to ponder on his dilemma, seeing as there was now said eight-foot land shark's fist headed straight for his face. Rolling to the side, he quickly grabs the bottle shards with his mind, throwing them straight up into his aggressor's path. Think, think, think, gotta go, gotta win, gotta gotta got-

KILL EAT KILL EAT KILL EAT DANIEL WE'RE HUNGRY NOW.

That was a great second opinion. Daniel's eyes flash to the alley's exit, and with one last look to his aquatic friend, he scrambles along the side of the wall, knocking several trash cans over in the process. Once he busts from the alley's mouth, he stumbles right into another person, a man, taking both of them straight to the ground and over the street's curb. The man shoves Daniel off of him, screaming the whole time. [Just what the fuck, huh?! The fuck's your pro-o-oh-] Daniel brings his face an inch from the man's, opens his mouth, and begins to. . . suck in air. The man freezes up, staring at the kid, and then begins to convulse. As Daniel continues to suck in air, a light green mist begins to waft out from the man's mouth, and the color begins to drain from his face. The mist begins to flow into Danny's mouth, and he gulps it down in waves. The man begins slowly shrinking, curling in on himself, and then finally stops moving. Daniel's mouth closes with an audible pop, and he staggers to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his left hand, which has stopped bleeding by now. With a grunt, he pulls the knife from his hand, and throws it to the ground.

People gasp and begin to gather around the alley. Give them the show they want. Daniel smiles, looks back, and then screams as loud as he can at the crowd, sending them all running in different directions like a group of cockroaches. As he turns back to the alley, his eyes flash with brilliant blue hues, and he gives a little chuckle at the feeling of power flowing back into his body. He'd have hell to pay when the authorities arrived, but for now, his grudge match with the shifter in the alley was all that he was focused on. [I'm feeling better now! Can you say the same? Let's get back to the game, friend!]

[Azrael]

Michael had thought he had the damn kid. He could see the Plus was fading fast, curling into a defensive ball, unable to avoid his attacks. His animalistic side was roaring for more blood, especially after the bottle to the head, and the shifter wanted to bury this scum for good.

How wrong he was.

In a matter of seconds, the Plus had ducked under his punch and sent more shards of the broken bottle his way. Mike managed to dive down to the floor, missing the majority of the shards but taking a few more hits on the crown of his head and back. Roaring in anger, he tried to grab the kid as he scrambled out of the alleyway but failed. “Running away now, are we?” he snarled, hauling himself back up to dash after the Plus. "Come back and fight, you piece of shit!" When he reachedthe mouth of the alleyway, however, he skittered to a stop at the sight of what the teenager was doing.

What Michael witnessed defied explanation. As he, and the motley group of people nearby gawked, the Plus was… seemingly sucking the life out of the poor sap who’d happened to be closest to the alley. It was almost as if the teenager was drinking water, slurping up the guy’s life force as the Plus grew stronger and stronger. It was enough to make the crowd focus on the kid over an eight foot tall shark, if only for a few moments.

By the time the teenager had taken the knife out of his hand and scared off the other Plus scum, Michael was reassessing the situation. <Someone’s called the cops at this point. We have maybe 15, 20 minutes tops before they get here,> he thought. <Looks like we’re going to have to make this snappy or book it, and soon.>

“You think this is just some sort of game? Let’s see how much fun it is when I rip your bloody head off, scum,” Mike snarled. Snatching one of the knives that the Plus had hurled at him earlier, he stormed forward, quickly closing the distance between the pair. With a loud roar, he plunged the knife down towards the Plus’ chest.

[Daniel Silver]

Daniel could hear his opponent screaming at him from the alley's mouth. He could hear the crowd slowly moving back in. He could hear the wind start to kick up around it all, like the world itself had decided to howl with them all. Or maybe it was a mourning cry for the man Daniel had just taken from Gaia, or God, or some other, unnamed deity. It didn't matter, in the end. None of them mattered. Daniel clenched his hands into fists, then released them slowly, feeling the energy surge through his body pulse by pulse, and that was all that really mattered. He was alive. He was here, he was full, and he was alive.

His eyes dart up to the alley, staring down his shark-skinned friend. What was that look on his face?

Disgust? Curiosity? Regret?

It didn't matter, apparently, because he had made a decision and rushed forward, throwing an overhead swing with one of Daniel's own knives. He wants a body. Give him a body, Daniel. He could certainly oblige that. Daniel reaches out with his mind, grabbing the body of the Plus he had drained, bringing it in front of him to absorb the strike from the knife. He smiles at Michael, and his eyes widen in anticipation for what comes next. With a psychic push, Daniel throws the body into Mike, making a dash around him right after. If he could reach the alley again, he could get back to his knives, or maybe even his gun. It didn't have any bullets left in it, but the shifter didn't know that. Intimidation could get him out of this.

Yes, he had accepted the face that this wasn't going to end in Daniel's favor. Either the San Francisco peacekeepers were going to arrive and waste them both, or Daniel and his friend was going to end up killing each other. He had brought it on himself, acting insane like he did, letting the hunger take over what he did. It was stupid, stupid and dangerous, and now he'd have another to add to his list of "people who want me dead". Daniel slides over the pavement, rounding the alley corner, and he looks back to see if his assailant was gonna follow the bait. [Knife, knife, kni- by the dumpster, there!- ha!] He brings the blade, a Becker Magnum Camp, one of his favorites, to his hand with his mind, giving it a little twirl. He looks back out to the shifter, shouting across the street. [WHO WANTS FISH FILET?] If he can make this thing mad enough, it'll make a mistake, and Daniel can make that mistake his escape plan.

[Azrael]

He should have seen that one coming. The teenager, quicker on his toes after sucking the life out of the other Plus, had not only managed to pull a body in between Mike's knife thrust and the kid's chest, he'd also managed to fling the body against him. The momentum of the body, coupled with the shifter's unprepared stance, sent him flying, hitting the wall of a nearby building with a hard thump. Michael nearly saw stars, but the hit only knocked the wind out of him. It wasn't something he wouldn't be able to recover from...

That injury might still be coming though.

At the sight of the telekinetic kid dashing past his dazed form, he roared in anger. <Did I mention how much I hate pieces of shit like this one? Because I do,> he growled, pulling himself back up from the spot he'd landed. He felt disgust for the Plus and this damned city in every fibre of his being, and he'd give anything to make it a little cleaner. If there was one thing he wanted to do, it was kill Pluses. <He wants to play with bystanders? Two can play at that game,> he thought. <Let's cleanse this city a little before I take this shit down too. The world will be better off anyways.>

Without missing a beat, Mike took a quick stride towards one of the slower fleeing gawkers and snatched them up. It was a pale woman, but he couldn't have cared less; her neck snapped quite nicely in his strong grasp. Grasping the corpse in one hand, he headed back towards the alleyway to find the Plus waiting for him with a knife and a snarky comment. "Sorry kid, but I'm not on the menu tonight; you are," he snarled. Using the body as a club and shield of sorts, he took a few steps forward before swinging the body at the Plus's knife-weilding arm, hoping to take both the knife and the Plus himself out with the sheer force of his bludgeon. "How about a side of dead Plus with that knife of yours?"

[Daniel Silver]

[googlefont="Amatic SC"][googlefont="Loved by the King"]

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel had been expecting anger. He had expected a wild charge, an animalistic roar, something he could exploit to his advantage.

He had not expected a human club to be swung at his face.

He hadn't understood why the shifter had turned away from their battleground, but once the fish came back with a corpse in his hands, the picture came in clear. He dodged the first swipe aimed at his side, but the blow had connected with his knife and knocked it out of his hand, sending it flying into the alley's wall. The connection made his hand snap back to his chest, and he cradled it with his free hand, looking back to his opponent. The shifter was closing in fast, makeshift bludgeon in hand, looking to cave in Daniel's skull and eat him. Eat him. The prospect, when he thought about it, seemed a little ironic. Now all those scared expressions he saw made more sense.

Taking cautious steps back down the alleyway, Daniel's eyes searched around the area, looking for his advantage. He had to find something before this shark-man made him lunch. He locks in on his target: the empty .38 revolver, nestled between the dumpsters behind his opponent. It was too far away to pull in: the shifter would catch it before he could. He was gonna have to get around him somehow, get to the alley's mouth . . . and he had an idea of how. You're gonna leave us empty Daniel, we're gonna want to eat again. Make it count, make it count.

With an audible gulp, Daniel crouches down, raising his arms to his sides. [I'm the hunter! I'm the one who eats YOU!]

With a whoosh of air, Daniel leaps off the ground, grabbing his entire body with his mind and throwing forward, launching himself up and over Michael, peering out at the street from the air. He jerks back in mid-flight, coming down fast and hard at the opposite end of the alley. He tries to land on his hands and knees, but he comes down too hard, and instead ends up rolling across the concrete. 

Oh God, that hurt too much. Get the gun, get the gun! With a grunt, Daniel brings himself to a knee, looking back up at the shifter. [How about a -] he talks as he reaches out and grabs gun with his mind, sliding it across the alley and into the palm of his right hand [ - side of lead-flavored death?] With another groan and a wobble, Daniel uses the alley wall to stand back up, keeping the gun trained on the shifter's bulky frame. He looks back behind him, then back to the alley, gauging the distance between him and the street. It was time to beat it out of here, for sure, because this had turned out to be more than Daniel could handle alone. If his revolver had actual bullets, then maybe, but bluffing his way out of here seemed like a better alternative than ending up chum. [If you don't want to end up canned, then back up. I'm leaving, and you're not gonna follow me anymore. Now back. Up.]

~~~~~~~~~~

word count :: 548::
notes :: none ::
tagged :: @Azrael, @open ::
outfit :: here ::
mood :: wounded, desperate::