tampered | Log: Complete

Current Mood: expectant

Log: Complete

When: July 16, evening
Rating: T for violence (will bump up rating if it becomes necessary)
Characters: Walter Dornez [

dark_butler] and Karasu [

lethalcrow]
Summary: Walter feels like hunting, and a certain crow provides a convenient target.
Log:

There was something about lurking near Kurama's apartment at night that excited Karasu. Perhaps it was the possibility that he would hear something from the apartment below--a word, a whimper, a crash as something was knocked over in the throes of a nightmare. He had no intention of attacking, not yet, but it still thrilled him to imagine what might be going on behind those walls.

Tonight, his imagination was somewhat distracted. He knew that another of the kitsune's associates intended to deal with him. What he did not know was how, and that heightened his adrenaline in a completely different manner. There would be blood. That much Karasu could be certain of. He smiled behind his mask as he waited, hands tucked in the pockets of his long coat, his black hair a fall of ink-stained spider silk down his back.

It was good fortune indeed that he'd been brought to the City. Very good fortune.

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Walter was flung back by the blast, wire strands snapping under the force. He landed in a crouch at a distance and kept his head down before he rose, wiping blood from his mouth.

It was an irritation to Walter that he'd still not gotten his form under control enough to keep it from reverting to that of his teenage years when he was injured. It was a tell, but no one so far had caught on to what it meant.

He smiled though, to smell Karasu's blood in the air as well. A little blood, a little pain, and his enemy's fear, and he'd be good as new.

"Is that as good as it gets?" he asked, stalking forward, wire circling him in an ever-shifting shield. "A little bang?"

As he walked, he reached out for Karasu's mind, seeking a hold to open the demon to fear.

In Karasu's opinion, the blast should have killed Walter. He was more than a little put out that it hadn't. The vampire's subsequent shift from the form of a mature human man to an adolescent was perplexing, but Karasu spared no time to consider the cause. Still, he found that the youthful features endeared Walter to him more than violence alone could. The blood was a nice touch as well.

Perhaps the kitsune had chosen his company well after all. Perhaps they were worth more attention than Karasu had thought. Perhaps--

Then he felt it. The vampire was in his mind. Karasu snarled in outrage and summoned more airborne bombs, directing them at Walter in vicious waves. "Kisama," he hissed between his teeth. He coveted control, and the vampire had threatened that precious commodity. For the first time, Karasu doubted the outcome of their confrontation.

Yes. Walter felt that seed doubt and seized on it, working to feed it, to make it bloom into true fear. Most of his attention was on his opponent, but he spared enough to pull a large piece of debris into the air and shred it into smaller pieces to throw up a curtain for the airborne bombs to fly into.

The damage he took from shrapnel of his own making was something he could afford to shrug off, small wounds healing almost immediately and larger wounds hidden under the illusion of clothing.

At first, Walter's influence was hardly discernible. Karasu continued his assault with the same single-mindedness he displayed in choosing and breaking a toy. Someone familiar with his fighting style might notice a hint of unusual tension in his stance, a shift of focus from accuracy to intensity, and the absence of sadistically imaginative attacks.

The more Walter fed the crow's doubt, the more unfocused Karasu's tactics became, until the youkai was relying on sheer power without any artistry whatsoever. Get out, he thought frantically. Get out get out get out.

Mine.

Walter mouthed that word with malicious glee on his face, pressing his attack now, not just defending, snaking wires past the barrage to try to get cuts in. He didn't try for deep damage. The taunt of smaller cuts would do more damage on the psychic level, feeding Karasu's doubt. He wanted to demon to taste full-blown fear.

He would count that as victory no matter how else this fight turned out.

Another snarl was his answer, accompanied by an angry flare of red in Karasu's eyes. This was not the way battles were meant to unfold. Only Toguro had ever claimed superiority over him. Kurama had survived their battle, yes, but he had still lost in the end.

With his concentration unraveling, Karasu found it difficult to evade Walter's wires. They cut deeply enough that the wounds didn't heal immediately, and more blood dampened the crow's clothing. He gave up on strategy entirely and threw all of his youki into generating explosives that targeted the vampire where he stood.

Karasu loathed the creature, now, but most of all he loathed the fear that he was going to lose.

Unlike Karasu apparently, Walter understood what it was to lose and he understood the desperation that preceded loss.

He hoped he was seeing it now, because that build of energy directed at him was going to be a challenge to survive.

Fear me. Fear me. Fearmefearmefearme.

The air was full of silver and explosions and debris and Walter was almost chanting the words, Fear me as he destroyed what he could, dodged what he could not, and took burning wounds from what would be neither destroyed nor dodged, feeling the pain starting to grow as he was not given time to heal and the sustenance from Karasu's fear was still meager.

There was too much silver, too few explosions. Karasu was bleeding freely, all of his youki now gathered into a single, suicidal bid for victory, but what was suicide when you were already dead? Without life, the only thing Karasu had to lose was himself.

Damn you, he swore. Get out of my head!

They were only words ... useless, ephemeral, weak. He was afraid. He remembered what terror was--not his victims', but his own. Unless he destroyed Walter, now, he would break.

Karasu was rigid as stone as he compressed all of his power into one final explosion meant to eradicate the vampire.

There.

Walter drew on Karasu's fear to heal himself, drinking it down and feeling the vice grip of pain loosen.

And there was the desperation.

The power built and burst toward him and it was all Walter could do to crouch and use all his strength to throw himself high into the air, away from the concussion, away from the conflagration that would tear him to pieces.

Even that was not enough to escape fully, the concussion and blast catching him and throwing him against a wall hard enough to leave an impression in the brick.

If Karasu had had any usable youki remaining to him, the moment Walter collided with the wall would have been the moment to strike with another conflagration. He had none, not even enough for a spark. Bloodied, exhausted, and shaken, the crow could rely only his claws and his reflexes now.

Karasu knew that if Walter could still stand, he was finished.

Walter pulled himself slowly off of — and out of — the wall. He could feel bone grinding against bone as it moved itself back into place and knit with other shattered pieces, and it wasn't exactly the most pleasant sensation.

On the other hand, he was still healing, and there was no silver or holy magic to slow his regeneration.

And Karasu still fed him.

Walter pulled himself straight, met the demon's eyes, and smiled before throwing himself forward, a wave of silver preceding him.

Karasu's defense was wild, desperate, a blur of long red claws and rushed blocks that didn't always work. He wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes had lost the lurid glow of a demon trapped and fully prepared to fight. The absence of the mask allowed Walter to see the grim, fatalistic line of Karasu's lips as the crow tried to hold him off.

Like many youkai at his level, Karasu was a practiced martial artist, but against Walter it wasn't enough. One wrong step, and he fell to his knees.

Walter's lips drew back from his teeth in a sharp smile of triumph, but having Karasu on his knees wasn't close to enough. Silver wire spun a web around the demon, Walter intending to bind his foe.

The wounds Karasu had already suffered burned as the wires pinned his arms. He struggled, infuriated at being taken prisoner for the second time since his arrival in the city, but succeeded only in creating new wounds as the wires cut into him. Fear was evident in his voice as he swore at Walter in every dialect he could call to mind, using the filthiest insults of the demon realm in a pointless show of defiance. The crow struggled to find his feet, unwilling to let Walter simply take him.

Walter didn't want Karasu to rise. Mostly because he was too short as he was to be able to do what he wished if he allowed the demon to his feet. The vampire relished the taste and sound of his opponent's fear, fed from it, letting it flow through him like an anodyne for the pain of his injuries.

He wanted more.

Walter kicked Karasu in the back of the knee to keep him from gaining his feet and leaned in behind him. "You lost," he murmured, ignoring the curses and insults. "And now I have you."

He knew how this felt. Knew it and knew how someone who was unfamiliar with defeat would loathe this weakness.

Walter wanted one thing more from Karasu before he would be satisfied. He wormed his way deeper into the demon's mind, dredging up every particle of fear he could touch and whispered, "Scream for me."

Karasu hated Walter. He hated him for being unafraid. He hated him for winning. He hated him for everything that he was. The crow tried to build on that hate and nurture it. It was a better emotion than fear. Its purpose was clearer, deadlier. This trembling that Walter forced him to feel was sickening, and as his knees struck the pavement again, Karasu strained against the wires like a maddened beast in a net.

Walter could demand what he wanted. Karasu told himself that the vampire wouldn't have it, but his mind was approaching a state of debilitating panic. He could feel the vampire clawing through his consciousness. The invasion was beyond anything Karasu could have imagined. His resistance crumbled.

When Walter commanded a scream, the crow gave it to him.

Walter took the scream and drank it down. It filled him and healed him and it was a heady draught indeed.

After the scream faded, Walter started to withdraw from Karasu's mind then stopped.

"I will come for you if you harm Kurama or those close to him again. I will come for you and next time, I will keep you and this will be as a pleasant dream in comparison."

He released Karasu then, withdrawing from his mind and releasing the wire from his body.

~~Isn't it lovely to play someone who's vicious?~~

Stripped of his power, at least for the time being, Karasu collapsed where he was. What strength he still had his body funneled into repairing the physical damage Walter had done. He had no answering taunt, but even as his weary mind dragged him into unconsciousness, he grasped at a single cherished memory: a human body draped in red, flesh torn away in time with its screams.

~~Quite.~~

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Log: Complete

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