tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; Thursday, October 15, very early morning.
Rating; PG-13 to R for gore, language, etc.
Characters; The Sorrow (

spiritofsorrow ), Ennis (

seventy_years ), Luck (

favorsthebrave )
Summary; The cannibalism curse descends upon the City, and Ennis and Luck end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Log; (

The rain came down hard and fast, and thunder roared overhead. Lightning flashed over the buildings, and all of it was focused around where he stood. A blackened, twisted body lay cooling in the rain, the flames on its skin dying in the storm as Sorrow left it behind. Charred. Smoking. Felt like charcoal to the touch. Nothing left to take.

He lit brilliant white as a bolt struck one of the nearby buildings, vanishing into a metal rafter and coursing to the ground with a flurry of sparks and a blinding flash. The downpour followed him as he moved, a quarter-mile radius or so of heavy black clouds that petered away at the edges and loomed in a mass over the streets he stalked. No one was out at this hour, but he had woken up starving. He hadn't eaten in years, being a ghost in his usual state, but here in the City, food was so simple to find should he need it.

Just walk out and catch it.

But there had been no success yet, and the hunger was driving him mad. Food. Needed food. Had to have food. And the best food was warm, and soft, and pulsing with hot blood. Tearing flesh, ripping skin, maybe even taking an eye or two...salty and soft. He held his gun at his side, fingers tense on the handle, barrel hissing from a thousand droplets, and paused.

Footsteps. He turned to see someone locking up the speakeasy, leaving after a late night at the bar. A mere shadow against the door, it was all dark and dusky where he was pale and sallow in the middle of the drenched road. His usual gentle smile was now a madman's bare-toothed grin, all white like his face and hair and silvery eyes that seemed to glow in the spark-light. His normally gloved hands were bare, his sweater gone in favor of the full monochrome camouflage suit, his longish hair matted to his head. Water ran down over his lips and into his mouth and over his chin, giving him the look of a starving, slavering beast.

No burning it this time. Lightning cooked the food. That was pointless. This one, he would take alive and writhing. After all, meat tasted best after bleeding out slowly, all streams of scarlet and iron and--

He aimed his gun at the man's chest and tensed his hands on the trigger.

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Immortality had, in all honesty, done Luck's survival instincts no favors.

And he knew it, too; that might be the worst of it. He wasn't unaware of the other man's presence on the street outside Cassagioso as he stepped out of the empty speakeasy and turned to lock up. His mind, though, was mostly on mundane things: the night's figures, inventory, employees, business. A trace of annoyance at the freak rainstorm that had whipped up out of nowhere just as he was leaving.

There was, as far as Luck was concerned, no reason for him to be nervous about one man on the street in the middle of the night. So Luck took the time to finish locking the door, calm and unhurried, and tucked the key safely into his coat pocket, before he finally turned towards the Sorrow, just beginning to reach up for the pistol resting concealed in the shoulder holster under his coat.

By then, of course, it was far too late.

The abrupt shift in lifestyle from New York to the City had left her reeling and at a loss as to how she should spend her sudden abundance of free time, but, even though it had only been a few days, working at Cassagioso was already a great relief to Ennis. It had been easier with Firo around--it was difficult to even find a moment to sink into confused and lonesome thoughts when he was so skilled at distracting her from them--and it was a shock when, one day, she discovered that he was gone.

Having a job helped a great deal. It was simple to set aside painful thoughts when she had a task to focus on, and working as security at the speakeasy was well within her range of abilities--there was hardly even a moment in which she had to think at all in order to accomplish what was expected of her. The only problem that remained was what she ought to do with her time once her shift was complete; yet another strange concept that she had no choice but to accept. In New York, there were no scheduled 'shifts' or 'breaks'--only a few collected moments in between orders as she stood quietly to the side until she was needed again. In acquiring this job, Ennis had realized another distinction between 'human' and 'homunculus'.

Still, she was having difficulties in keeping herself busy, and tonight, Ennis had decided to patrol the building while she waited for Luck to finish up inside so she could accompany him back to the apartment. While he was not as talkative as Firo, Luck was still far more skilled at conversation than herself, and, at the very least, she could count on him keeping her occupied with small talk.

As criminal behavior tended to occur out of sight, as she knew well enough, Ennis was paying far more attention to the back entrance of the building than the front. As for the weather, she had endured far harsher things in her lifetime, but she stuck close to the building for cover regardless, limiting her exposure to the elements as much as possible.

After another crack of thunder, Ennis thought she heard the front door creaking and made one final sweep of the back before turning to meet up with Luck--and quickened her pace considerably when the next thunderous blast was not accompanied by a flash of lightning.

(ooc: I was sort of a stupid and forgot how we usually do round-robin with logs. Thus, repost.)

The bullet spat out and struck the man full in the chest; Sorrow charged in with pistol still in hand. It wasn't far to the door -- he was there before he even thought -- and he bashed hard into Luck and slammed him up against the wall, pinning him there for a moment.

He tore at Luck's collar, pulling it away from the shoulder enough to bite down on the skin.

Foolish, Luck had the chance to think in the instant before the bullet ripped through him. But that was all. Before he'd even had the chance to touch his own gun he was run back against the door, pinned and bleeding and cursing himself somewhere in the back of his head for being such a stupidly easy mark. He fought to push the Sorrow back, to at least buy himself enough space to get at his pistol, but it was useless; pain and the hole in his chest sapped his strength. He gave up the effort after only a moment, reaching up instead to try to dig his thumb into the attacker's eye.

When the Sorrow's teeth tore into his shoulder, he let out an almost voiceless snarl of pain and anger. Son of a bitch.

(oh, why the hell not. Wanted to get stuff started; now Ennis can come do some ownage for this.)

Dropping his gun, he clamped onto Luck by the collar and arm and yanked his head back, tearing off a mound of flesh the width of a tennis ball. Scarlet poured from the wound as he grabbed at its edge, trying to pull more flesh away. The meat in his mouth was slick and wet; he bit it in half, and the blood let it slip down his throat in chunks.

Food. Delicious, wonderful, steaming food. His eyes widened at the tang of iron on his tongue.

(Sorry guys, I didn't think that I'd be kept so busy today! *fails*I should have much better luck tomorrow, but just in case, I'll leave this tag open so Sorrow can maul Luck a bit more before Ennis swoops in. xD I don't mind being skipped for a few turns if I'm being slow with tags. ^^;;)

The thunder and rainfall helped to disguise the splashing involved in running through puddles as Ennis hurried along the side of the building. She was certain that she'd heard a gunshot, so it was important to be stealthy as she was currently unarmed, and while bullets would have no lasting damage, there was still danger in being incapacitated.

She was concerned for Luck, but if he was being attacked and she rushed out into the open without any knowledge of how many were involved or what weapons they had on hand, it was likely that she'd walk right into a trap and become unable to help him at all. With that in mind, Ennis slowed as she approached the corner and avoided the last few puddles in an effort to be quiet. Pressing her back to the wall and feeling the moisture seep through her jacket, Ennis carefully peered around the corner to gauge the situation... and in her shock at the sight before her, remained still for a few moments more than necessary.

Luck's breath hissed out through gritted teeth, bubbling unpleasantly in his lung where the bullet had torn through, as he fought against the Sorrow's grip, his unrestrained hand clawing for the other man's throat. This was nothing like the fighting he'd done before - even when fighting for his life, at worst the men he'd fought had only wanted to kill him. Being eaten was something that all of Luck's experience had not prepared him for or equipped him to deal with.

His head turned to the side in time to see Ennis at the corner of the building. For only the second time since he'd learned that he'd become immortal, Luck felt a breath of fear.

"Ennis!" He meant to shout it, but he choked on the name, voice gurgling in his throat. "Get out of here."

He jerked his head down, pressing his chin to his chest and blocking Luck's hand. Gouging his hand into the open wound, he ripped the hole wider before his fingers slipped off, and he jammed his forehead against Luck's shoulder to gnaw at the dangling strip.

Ennis? His eyes widened and snapped to one side; a figure was poised at the corner. For a moment, he froze, skin between his teeth. Someone was watching him.

No matter. He would deal with that one later. This one was more important right now.

He reached to his belt to find the combat knife he had taken from Joy's supplies in the lighthouse.

She stood still long enough to hear Luck's voice, barely recognizable, and for his attacker to glance at and quickly dismiss her. And then reach for a knife. Unfortunately, she could not follow her employer's instructions at this time--after everything he had done for her, allowing her to stay at his apartment as well as providing her with a job, she could not abandon him here to be eaten alive.

As though a switch had been flipped inside of her, her expression of surprise was abruptly turned to one of complete focus and determination as Ennis turned the corner and ran straight for the aggressor. She would take further action as required, but for now, her goal was simply to force him to release Luck. Once she was close enough, Ennis jumped high in the air, one leg outstretched in an attempt to kick the man in the head or neck.

As the knife came out and Ennis rushed towards the both of them, Luck dug his fingers into the Sorrow's arm and wrenched with all the determined effort he could muster. He wouldn't have the strength to wrest it away, he knew, and rather than waste the effort trying to turn the blade against the other man, he sought instead simply to trap the Sorrow's knife hand between them, preventing him from bringing the blade to bear against Ennis. Never mind whether or not he got cut - that hardly mattered by now.

Sorrow lurched as his arm twisted; he jerked his head around as he heard footsteps and brought his arm up just in time to shield his head from a kick that landed hard and knocked him away from Luck.

Luck still had his arm in the hold, though, and as he stumbled back, Luck came with him, now between Ennis and himself as they swung in a wavering arc away from the door.

But look! Luck had given him an arm. Knife or not, he wanted the man close, and this was exactly what had happened. So he grabbed onto the arm, short nails digging in, and bit into it.

Though it was blocked, her attack had been successful in forcing the man off balance and away from Luck--but in the time it took to right herself upon landing, he had managed to drag Luck along with him, effectively blocking her from immediately following up with a second strike.

She couldn't see what was happening, but she could venture a guess when the man's head dipped down. There was no time to wait for an opportunity to make a precise attack on a vital area--she had to land a heavy hit to get him away from Luck as soon as possible, even if it meant putting herself at an increased risk. Thus, the moment she had recovered her footing, Ennis ran forward and to the side to avoid Luck, and, after slipping slightly on the wet street, abruptly changed direction to hopefully ram the man's side as she aimed a fist to strike his stomach in an attempt to knock the wind out of him, and, if she was lucky, also encourage him to open his mouth wide to refill his lungs.

Pulled along as the Sorrow moved, Luck could not keep his footing. He went down hard on one knee on the wet pavement, doggedly keeping his hold on the Sorrow's arm even when the other man's teeth dug into his skin again. The bullet hole in his chest made it hard to breathe - with that and the dark and the rain it was hard not to remember drowning - but he kept his focus on keeping the knife under control, at least long enough to let Ennis handle the rest. He could do that much... probably.

Ennis' hand connected hard with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him back. His teeth gouged into Luck's hand as they withdrew, drawing bloody lines in the skin, and he paused to take a sharp breath and recover. Summoning a burst of energy, he ripped his hand free -- the knife cut along Luck's hand as it rushed away -- and scrambled to his feet to face Ennis. Even as he watched for his attacker, he couldn't help running a hand along his knife, drawing off the blood, and bringing it to his lips.

Luck was down, and here was this interfering force that meant him harm, was made of food, and was standing right before him. The solution was obvious.

He lunged for her, swinging the knife in a diagonal slash across her torso.

Ennis moved to occupy the vacant space immediately after the two men were separated, intent on protecting Luck from suffering any further injury. As long as she could hold her ground, there would be enough time for Luck to get to his feet, and, from there, the priority was to help him escape safely. The only problem left to solve was how to go about subduing the attacker or injuring him enough to prevent being pursued.

Against her better judgment, Ennis spent a vital moment to look over her shoulder to assess Luck's injuries, and quickly realized her error--she only had enough time to lean back and avoid damage to her upper torso. The knife sliced into her stomach, cutting through the thin fabric of her shirt and jacket easily. She was able to step back a second later, one arm instinctively wrapping around herself to hold her skin together and protect her exposed organs. Ennis grit her teeth, suppressing the pain as she focused on her task, the only sign of having felt it at all being a small gasp in response to the injury. She brought up her other hand in preparation for a second strike from the knife, ready to aim her fist at his wrist in an attempt to disarm the man before he could cut her again.

Some foolish reflex had Luck holding his lacerated hand protectively against his chest, as though he hadn't suffered far worse before, as though it weren't the least of his injuries now. He might have sworn, if he could breathe - I told you to get out of here - but instead he saved his effort for struggling back up onto his feet, reaching out towards the handle of the nearby locked door for leverage.

It wouldn't be much longer, he thought, before his immortality started to have its uncanny effects, and if it had only been himself, he might have waited, and trusted to the momentary advantage that his regeneration would provide. But that would mean forcing Ennis to further endanger herself trying to defend him, and that was entirely unacceptable.

So, clenching his teeth against the pain, bleeding hand curled weakly over the hole in his chest, he dragged himself determinedly upright.

What--she didn't even blink! His eyes widened for a moment, the shock of what just happened settling in. Her innards were showing through the gap, her hand pressing skin together over them, but she stood her ground between Sorrow and Luck with a look that said she was ready for the second round. Men would be screaming for their mothers after a wound like that.

The smell, though, was remarkable...fleshy, hot, and entirely different from blood. More exotic. He bared his teeth and charged her not with the knife, but with himself, moving the blade to free his thumb and forefinger. His free hand, he clamped onto her shoulder and dug into her collar; the other, he thrust at the gash he opened, reaching for the slick coils inside.

Something was nagging at the back of his bestial mind, just a little...

It was difficult to notice in the downpour, but the blood that was seeping out from between her fingers was beginning to slow, stop, and even start to reverse its path. Even the drops that had fallen on the street beneath them had gathered, separating from rainwater, and appeared to reaching upward. A little more noticeable, as movement shifted the cut clothing across her stomach, was how the wound itself seemed to be shrinking. Starting with the shallowest sections of the slice, the separated skin was knitting back together, not even leaving as much as a scar behind as the healing slowly crept up to the deeper sections of the wound.

Her regeneration was only getting started, however, when the attacker's hand fell heavily upon her shoulder. Though she had no plans to move away as limiting motion would avoid aggravating her injury until it was fully healed, it was still intimidating to be held still. She was relieved that he was refraining from leaning down to bite her for the time being, allowing her to focus fully on the hand thrust directly at her wound. Luckily, the limb she'd wrapped around herself would deter him somewhat, but he would also have to deal with the punch still aimed at his wrist and the added danger that his shifted hold on the knife might cause injury to one or both of them thanks to the sudden strike.

Luck's own regeneration was considerably slower than Ennis's... inevitable, given the comparatively few occasions on which it had been put to the test. He was, after all, a much younger immortal. Soon, however - as though Ennis were somehow the catalyst - the blood diffused into the rainwater began to separate, rising in droplets into the air, crawling back up into the wounds that shed it.

The clean slice across the palm of his hand closed first, as he reached inside his coat for the revolver he hadn't been able to get at before. With his torn shoulder still raw and gaping, he drew out the gun and aimed it directly at the Sorrow.

Gun!

His hands flared brilliant blue as he saw the barrel gleam, and he yanked his punch away from Ennis and flashed his palm out straight at Luck's head. It was too far to connect, but he knew that, and a gleaming burst of what looked like glowing water rushed out at him, a loud ping cracking the air like a perfect crystal shattered.

It struck Luck full in the face, and a sudden blast of sensation and memory flooded his mind and body. The pain of old wounds raced electric down his arms. Sounds of screaming and howling and gunfire and flame. The sense of heat on the skin, of slick blood, of breaking bones. Flashing lights and blurry vision and delirium. The stench of death and rot and smoldering flesh.

It was a mental surge of memory meant to stun anyone in place, to their knees, even off their feet if they were particularly open to it. Just as soon as it had came, it was gone.

And then he stopped.

What...what was that?

Something was crawling around in him, stirring, sliding. Pressure rose into his throat, and he stifled a gag and tried to force back the bile. His hands shook as they rose to his chest -- and then he saw Ennis' blood separating from the rain, drifting into the air and squirming back into the closing wound.

She healed. With her spilled blood. And what was inside him now--

He shuddered and clapped a hand over his mouth, stumbling away --

Was coming back.

She was surprised when her punch met empty air where she had expected to make contact with his wrist, but she could see the flash of blue from the corner of her eye after he had abruptly redirected his hand to aim over her shoulder--at Luck. Ennis had no idea what had just happened, but she couldn't just stand still and wait for it to all make sense to her. Instead, she pulled her fist back and aimed another punch at the arm griping her shoulder, twisting underneath his hand at the same moment. While the movement caused her no small discomfort, the wound was over half healed already, and she had to make sure that nothing terrible had happened even with her using her body as a shield.

Though it seemed she hadn't needed to strike the man at all when he pulled away on his own. Ennis understood what was happening in a moment. She had known that Luck was immortal since he had been recovered from the water after the prison exploded, still alive, and if this man had ingested a part of him, he was about to suffer a very unique punishment for his actions.

Ennis didn't turn her back on the man, but she did lessen her guard somewhat as she backed away to stop alongside Luck to see if he needed any help.

Luck reeled, the aim of his pistol faltering and dropping away from the Sorrow as the psychic assault blasted through him in a rush of pain and disorienting sensations. Through some great force of will, he managed not to fall again, but kept his feet and braced himself with his off-hand against the door of the bar. As Ennis stepped back along side him, he drew in a deep, steadying breath, marshaling his composure.

"Miss Ennis," he said in a low and tightly-controlled voice, eyes fixed on the Sorrow rather than looking her way. Back to formal address, as though he weren't rain-wet and disheveled and with a ragged piece torn out of his shoulder... as though by regaining his poise he could somehow take control of the situation. "Are you all right?"

He doubled over, arms bent around his waist, and stumbled another step back before vomiting the writhing whatever it was onto the pavement. For a few seconds, he stared down at it in total shock, then looked up through his dripping brows and watched Luck recover his stance and address Ennis. His breath was harsh and quick, panting through the sound of rain, and he ignored the gray trickle from the corner of his mouth.

No. No, this wasn't about to happen. Luck just took his food back. That wasn't allowed. That wouldn't work. Whatever he was, maybe fried would be a better way to deal with this one.

Still...did he really want to try that again? His throat burned from the acid; his mouth tasted foul; the sensation of flesh crawling inside him was one that he never wanted to repeat.

But...but Luck was still bleeding, and it smelled so wonderful, and he didn't fight back so hard, and...

He raised a hand in the air; thunder rumbled overhead as the air grew so thick with electricity that all their hair began to stand on end. Yes. Yes, this would kill anything that moved, even that.

She waited until the wound fully closed before pulling her arm away from her stomach, and the only trace of the injury remaining was the suspicious cut in her shirt and jacket. "I am fine," she answered, and, physically, it wasn't a lie. Psychologically, Ennis was having difficulties in rationalizing what was happening. What exactly was that blue flash of light from before, and what was this sudden change in atmosphere? Her hackles rose and the hair not weighed down by rainwater was standing on end. Was this also his doing? If so...

"We have to get away from him, Mr. Gandor." Her voice sounded even and certain, but inside, she felt anything but. The only reason she wasn't immediately taking hold of Luck and helping him escape was the fact that he wasn't completely healed yet.

Luck wasn't fool enough to second-guess Ennis's insistence. Already the blood and flesh the Sorrow had retched up were being drawn inevitably back to the wound in a mass of reddish pulp, but he could feel the sudden charge in the air tingling against his skin, and while he had no idea what it meant, he was certain that the last thing he should do was stand around waiting to find out.

With his revolver still weighing in his hand, he reached out with the other to take hold of Ennis's arm and pull her along with him. "Run."

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Log; Ongoing

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sorry I fail at having time -- I will not suck now ><

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