Zsadist 1.26.12

-Pressing my body tightly to the filthy cinderblock, my fingers working quickly as I reload my Sigs. My breath sawing through raw lungs as ebony eyes scan the shadows for movement. The sweet stench of my enemy clings to my clothing, drenched with blood. Some of my own, the majority running thick and black over my leathers. Four, so far. Four less predators. Too bad I wasn't there soon enough. Could have had a chance to save the two civilians they'd torn apart. The poor bastard and his female had bled out by the time I caught up with their killers.-

-Reholstering one of my guns, I crouch low and move out of the shadows, my nose working overtime to get a bead on the other two I'd seen.- If Phury'd been with me, maybe... -Shaking my head once, violently shoving that thought away before it's finished. My twin did NOT need to be here. He's moving into… or already living with the rest of the Brotherhood. Darius' suggestion, Wrath's orders. I swallow thickly, my right hand rubbing at the scar on the left side of my chest absently. Phury understands. He has to. He's got to 'get it'. I can't be caged like that. Under observation like a fucking animal. Been there. Should have left me there. I'd have been dead by now. The Mistress would have tired of me. Wouldn't she? Regardless, my mind would have been gone. Was nearly there when.. Fuck, HE helped get me out of it. Nearly killed us both. Shit. I know it would have been better if I'd bit it. He might have gotten away from the guilt then. All this 'whoa is me' bullshit.. fuck! How the hell was I going to help HIM? I barely make it through life myself. The war, fighting.. that's what gets me through the days. Nothing else. Yeah, I let the fuckers take their pound of flesh. The pain fuels me, drives the empty, aching need to destroy something.. other than myself. When I can't fight, can't find that release, at least I'm capable of delivering it to myself. Self-inflicted isn't as satisfying as when it's dealt by others, but it works in a pinch. The only thing that brings me back from the brink of ending this wretched existence for good.-

Ahh.. there you are fucker. -Catching the scent when the icy breeze shifts, my shitkickers pound pavement with no effort to conceal my approach. I want these two to know that death is coming for them. Unflinching, inevitable death dealt at the hands of a scarred wraith that barrels toward them like a cannonball. A contemptible, grinning reminder that they're days are numbered from the second their heart is ripped from their chest. The Omega's puppets know who we are, what we do. They know we do our job well. Fuck. Yeah. We do it great when we're there on time.. when we.. - FUCK! -Roaring as I take a roundhouse kick to the side of my skull, boots skipping to the side as I slam into a parked, rusted out truck. Scrambling to my feet, I lift my Sig and take a shot at the lesser stalking toward me, a self-satisfied grin on his mug. Firing a round into the thugs chest, I knock him back a few steps, unsheathing a dagger as he falters.

The rattling in the brain pan giving me a case of the spins, I need to off this fucker and move on to his friend.. fast. Snarling viciously, my fangs making a full-on showtime appearance, I lunge at the stumbling lesser, driving my fist up and forward, the razor edge sinking through muscle and bone to reach the hollow space where a beating human heart used to reside. The resounding pop and flash bring a pale imitation of satisfaction as the lesser returns to his maker. My head swivels around quickly, spotting the huge male before I smell him. Heavy brows crash down as I grind my jaw. Bigger is better. I spit out..- Bring it, little lady.

-Knowing damn well I'm outsized by at least double, the one thing I have on the lesser is speed. Not being beefed up is balanced out with sinewy swiftness. I duck under a swinging fist of ham sized proportions, my shitkicker driving hard into his knee. I spin around as the knee buckles, my arm sliding around his throat from behind. I rear back, ready to sink my fangs deep and tear his fucking head off when my back collides with the corner of a brick building. My breath rushing from me with the impact, I tighten my grip around his neck, wrenching my dagger around to slice into his shoulder as I shove the Sig into his spine. Squeezing the trigger, delivering the lead with a sharp crack and a whiff of gunpowder, I squeeze my thighs to maintain my grip as the mountain crashes to the pavement.

Straddling the slowly moving piece of shit beneath me, I holster the Sig before patting down his pockets in a search for a wallet.. something to lead me to the fucker's jar.- FUCK! -Coming up empty for the fifth time tonight, I grunt in disgust, deaf to the threats and whines coming from the meat mountain, I raise my dagger and drive it home. Dusting the lesser with another pop-flash routine, I pull myself to my feet, one hand gripping the brick for balance. Fucking hell. It's hard to tell what color the blood is that I'm seeing. Judging my the wavering vision, I'm guessing it's mine. Wiping the blade of my dagger across my thigh before resheathing it, I bring my hand to the back of my head, rubbing slowly down my skull trim. Wet, sticky. Didn't see that coming. Fucking brick took a bite out of me. I drag my fingers over my black tee, my eyes taking a quick sweep of the area. Taking a deep breath, I focus and dematerialize to the mom & pop shop where I currently haunt the cellar. Need to get a good look at the damage and patch myself up as best as I can. Bloody, bruised, and empty handed, I still flip on the bare light bulb with a grim sense of gratification. Six lessers down. Doing my part. Good enough.- #BDBB