Though The Heavens Fall [COMPLETE]

[Crash]

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Crash took a deep breath as he approached the warehouses. His stomach flipped with nerves that were so unlike him. Why was Bonifacio dredging all of this up again? Last time they met, he was sure they had put everything to an end. Their history was something he no longer liked to think about. It was filled with pain, loss, and anger for both of them, and Crash could only think of Hannibal’s death whenever he thought of Bonifacio. It had been months since their vicious hostility for each other had ended so tragically, and Crash preferred to never see the Fulsi man again.

So when Adison had come to him reporting a Fulsi on the border, asking specifically for him, it didn’t take Crash long to realize who it was. He had let Manic know where he was headed off to, and told him to expect him back within an hour; Bonifacio was going to get no more of his time. This nonsense would end today.

Crash finally reached the border, but found himself alone. He sighed and double-checked the notes he’d jotted down. “Adison said you’d be here… So where are you?” Crash sighed and looked around some more, making his way around the perimeter of one of the larger warehouses. Once again, he found no one. Thinking perhaps that Bonifacio had taken shelter from the sun inside, he made his way into the warehouse.

“Alright, I’m here!” He announced, voice laced with the frustration of this little game Bonifacio was playing. “Let’s get this over with.”

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[Adelina Russovo]

She nocked an arrow, drawing in a slow breath to steady herself. He stood in her sights, just below her perch in the rafters. Unsuspecting, he called out for Bonifacio--she could hear the irritation in his voice, wondered how long it would have taken him to crack and attack her father if he'd been here. But she didn't have time to think, not now. Not on the cusp of the moment she had planned in her head for months, days, hours. She raised the bow, took aim. Every muscle in her body begged for the release of that arrow, so long had she been waiting in tense anticipation for his arrival. Her arms burned, her back ached--but the pain was insignificant. It could not draw her from her target. She drew one breath, two, a third, and let fly.


She didn't wait for the arrow to hit before she had nocked another and taken aim again, thumb pressed against her lip as she loosed it. It hit its mark, like the first. One to the left knee, which had sunk him to the floor, the second to the right shoulder which knocked him onto his back with the force of impact, screams still echoing in the abandoned warehouse.Adelina grunted, slung the bow and quiver from her shoulders in one quick movement, shifting into her wolf form almost simultaneously. Grasping a length of rope she'd coiled in her mouth, she snapped her wings open. Bunching her legs and leaped from the rafter, descending in silence from the shadows. She landed a few feet from him, watching quietly as he struggled with the arrows sprouting from his body. His blood was already smeared in vivid streaks on the floor. In the gloom it was almost black, and she couldn't help but think that maybe her father had been right. Maybe this man truly was a demon.

But as she watched him writhe and snarl, glaring up at her when he finally noticed her presence she realized that he was just a man, but a monster none the less. She could see hateful curses forming on his tongue so she lunged forward, in one swift movement shifting back and grabbing the shaft of the arrow in his shoulder, shoving it deeper into his body. "Be quiet!" she snarled, grabbing the arm he was swinging at her and looping one end of her rope around his wrist, attempting to somehow get the bear of a man immobilized.

[Crash]

-------

There was no one here. Crash was about to turn and leave when suddenly he felt an impact and fell to his knees. The next moment he was on the ground. He took in a sharp breath to shake off his dazed confusion, and that was when the pain hit him. He let out an agonized roar, one hand flying up to his shoulder to find the wooden shaft of an arrow sticking out of him. Another was protruding from his leg, thwarting his attempts to get up.

Crash grunted and snarled, barely managing to get up onto his one good knee when suddenly his attacker was on him again, digging the arrow into his shoulder. He screamed again and desperately tried to swipe at her, anything to get her off of him, but she grabbed his arm and began to bind him.

“Get offa me, you crazy bitch!” He demanded. “Who the hell are you?!” He was filled with rage, fueled by his pain and confusion, a mixture that made him dangerously violent. But Crash tried his best to stifle the blinding rage and keep his head; He took a deep breath and only halfheartedly tugged at the bindings on his wrists, giving the girl an apologetic glance. “Look, look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. I came here to meet someone… I don’t know who you think I am, but let’s just... talk about this. Maybe without arrows sticking out of me,” he grunted, tugging at the ropes again. He wasn’t usually one for talking about things, but Crash didn’t see what choice he had; she had immobilized him just as well or better than he would have done to one of his victims…

Crash began to wonder if there wasn’t a misunderstanding at all.

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[Adelina Russovo]

She found it surprisingly easy to bind his wrists as he struggled in his mire of pain and confusion. She tried to keep twitch of a smile from her lips. Part of her wanted to enjoy this, enjoy his pain and suffering. But she wasn't here to watch him suffer, or draw screams from him with the digging of her blade; she was here to protect her father.

His curses rolled off her like water off leather and she simply stood there and watched his wheels turning. She was standing behind him, hands still gripped around his wrists as he slowly fought to diffuse his anger. He stopped struggling, but she could still see the tension in every muscle of his considerably broad back.

She gave one last tug on the restraints before she walked around to the front of him; but she kept her back to him and disappeared behind a stack of mildewed crates to where she'd hidden her bundle, the odor of the crates successfully hiding the scent from detection. She was gone from eyesight for but a few moments before she reappeared with a knife, one of her machetes tucked into its sheath now slung over her back. He was talking, spinning his wheels as he tried to get himself some time. She simply watched him with assessing teal eyes that revealed nothing of her intentions. Nothing of the savagery broiling in her thoughts that she fought to contain. She wanted to gut him, string him up along the Carna border like they had done to so many of her family.

But she shook the thoughts clear, wouldn't let them cloud her. "No misunderstanding," she replied at last, voice quiet yet somehow harsh, echoing in a soft whisper through the near-empty warehouse. She held his gaze, unyielding, unrelenting before she spoke again. "I'm here to kill you. Judge, jury, executioner." It was said simply, as if she had been asked the simplest of questions and she was merely stating the obvious. Her eyes flicked to her knife-handle as she flicked out the blade. Her fingers trembled around the handle as she fought to keep the anger quelled. It was difficult, as flashes of her father's pain taunted her--the nightmares she'd had for years about the shadowy man who stole away the goodness of anything he touched.

She glanced back up to him, wondering if she should ask him about last words. She'd read that's what they did on the outside, even for the worst of criminals, giving them some semblance of an honorable death. She wasn't entirely sure he deserved it.

But it hadn't come to that yet. She watched him with, gaze steady and unrelenting as she took the last few steps, closing the distance between them. He was on his knees, hands bound behind his back. She grabbed his chin, made her look up at him, didn't give him a choice. "Justice. Retribution. Call it what you will," she said, her fingers digging hard into his face. "But I will have it. We will have it." She traced her the tip of her blade along the scar that cut jaggedly across his face; the scar her father had given him so long ago. "My father will not suffer your existence any longer."

[Crash]

-------

Her words sent a shiver down his spine. No misunderstanding. He stared at her in bewilderment, wondering what could have caused this girl to despise him so much; to go through all the trouble of planning her meticulous scheme. Crash had many enemies, but he didn’t recognize her as one of them. There were always friends and family of those he’d hurt to answer to, but none had ever made it past the scouts on the border. Crash had never had to answer for his deeds; as far as he was concerned, he was celebrated for performing tasks for the good of his ring.

Crash winced and turned his head away as the girl ran the blade along his scar. There was no physical pain, but the thing had caused him agony since the day he’d received it. It was a reminder of his seemingly endless rivalry with Bonifacio, and a sign that he’d lost battles throughout their war. It was a mirror that reflected his violence, and he saw people regarding, taking it into account when first meeting him. Crash had seen expressions change, people slotting him into a category or list in their minds; telling themselves who he was before they knew his name. Often they were right.

It still made him shudder. He knew who this girl was now. The baby he’d stolen from a Carna traitor years ago. His child. He almost laughed, wondering how this situation would be different if Bonifacio had never rescued her. Crash’s would-be killer would be his daughter, and they would probably be judge, jury, and executioner to some carna traitor like her mother. But he didn’t dare to say any of that, only held the smallest smile on his face.

“There’s no reason to dredge all this up again,” he told her quietly, calmly. Crash didn’t know her, but he knew the look in her eye; the one that said she was more than prepared to kill him. “His suffering isn’t on my list of concerns.”

Somehow Crash knew that wouldn’t appease her, but it was all he could say when he had no way to fight her off. He wasn’t going to grovel or beg for a life he barely deserved. Crash was well aware of the way things worked in The Menagerie. He had done much in his time to earn death at someone else’s hands, and if this was the girl to give it to him, he supposed there was no one more fitting. He didn’t welcome death, but neither did he fear it.

“I’m not going to tell you I deserve to live or that you should spare me. Because honestly, more people are going to die at my hands if I walk out of here today. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow maybe, or the next day. I just do what I’m told,” He said, adding a shrug of his shoulders that made him grunt in pain. Arrow, right. “Your father is safe from me. I’m not going to seek him out. But I can see it in your eyes that you want this. So take it if you have to.”

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[Adelina Russovo]

Her brows quirked when he turned his head away as her blade grazed the scar, not nearly hard enough to cause physical pain. Internal, then. Haunted by something; she could tell that he was caught up in his own thoughts, his own memories. It gave her a twinge of satisfaction to know that her father had given him something to think about. Something to suffer over. It was nothing in comparison to the suffering he had endured: the people he had lost, the scars, the burns that had kept him near death for months. It was too much to bear.

She almost grinned when she saw the flicker of realization in his eyes as he understood who she was, and why she was here. But then he spoke. His tone matched hers, as if their conversation was the most casual thing in the world. As if they weren't speaking of the agonies of life and death. Her gaze locked with his as he kept talking, the hardened mask she had prepared to show him slowly cracking as her rage roiled and writhed in her chest. It made her feel sick, his words. Like he was somehow innocent of his crimes simply because he followed orders, like the lives he ruined meant nothing to him. He kneeled before her a coward. Worse yet, he spoke as if all that had passed between he and Bonifacio was nothing. Like it was water long since passed under the bridge; as if the blood that had been spilt had been washed away; as if the torment he had brought forth had been nothing but a solitary moment in time that didn't bleed agony into every waking moment after; as if the unendurable pain she had seen in her fathers eyes, once so bright and vivid with life, had not been wrought by his hand.

He just did what he was told.

She let out a hoarse scream just inches from his face, free hand grabbing a fistful of his green hair and yanking his head backwards with all her might, exposing his neck to the air. Her blade sank into the flesh, drawing blood, but she pushed no further. She glared down into his eyes, her face contorted with rage, the emotionless facade vanishing in a split second. "You do not get to tell me that," she hissed, teeth flashing. "You do not get to act as if I am here on some fool's errand, that everything that has happened is past, and wrapped up with a nice, neat bow. You do not get to say that." Her breath was coming in sharp, quaking gasps and tears rimmed her eyes as she stared into his, rage seeping from every pore. "You are a coward. You do not take responsibility for the blood you have spilled. But I will tell you what you have done. You have taken what little good there is between your teeth and left everything in rot and ruin. And you and your orders--you have made this world one of stinking, rotting wounds that will not heal."

Her blade dug further into the tender skin of his neck, blood pulsing around tip. "But you are right about one thing. My father will be safe from you." She paused, contemplating for a moment what she had said, the monster she had made him out to be. The monster she was about to kill as easily as he had killed so many before. She looked away for a moment, as if in doubt; but her gaze was back on his in an instant, her breath hot on his cheek. Tears were still in her eyes, but did not fall. "Maybe in killing you, I become you. Maybe I am the inflicter of wounds," she said, her voice a hoarse rasp as she tried not to stick her blade straight through him. "But it is okay. I can bear it for him." She twisted her blade and he screamed as fresh blood gushed from the wound. She could smell it and in it his fear-scent, thick and heavy in her nose.

"Fiat justitia ruat caelum," she breathed, fingernails digging into his scalp as she yanked his head back the furthest it would go, still glaring into his eyes. Her hand turned, thumb pressed against the hollow of his neck. A shuddering breath and she pulled the blade away, keeping her eyes trained on his. "Let justice be done though the heavens fall."

And her blade fell swift and unyielding as it carved its way through his throat, guided by her relentless hand.

She held his head and watched as the life left him in blood-choked gasps, releasing him only when the light had dimmed from his eyes. She cut his restraints, laid him down with a careful hand, and turned away, leaving him in the cooling puddle of dark, black blood.

[Manic]

The sweet scent of blood drew him nearer to the empty warehouse, the metallic tingle on his tongue mingling with Crash's unmistakable scent. Lord, what had that man gotten himself into this time? Manic sighed and raised his eyes to the heavy skies that threatened rain, as if the clouds could grant him an answer. He'd followed Crash here when business had cleared and he recalled that his Beta had said something about going to the border to confront some Fulsi. The one who had been plaguing him for years--you would think being set on fire would dissuade one for continuing on with the pestering. Fulsi will be Fulsi, he though dismissively as he flung the warehouse doors open, throwing caution to the wind. This was his empire after all.

But the sight that greeted him was not what he expected. He saw the empty blue of Crash’s eyes first, staring up at him from a pool of blood, still warm. It only took him a moment to take everything in; green hair plastered with blood, throat slit neatly and efficiently by an artful hand. And then a flicker of movement in the shadows, paws on the ground and then the whoosh of air under wings. But he was already in motion, shifting as fluidly as he moved. Paws quick and silent, inescapable as he sighted her, she of the artful hand, it would appear. She was in the air already, a winged wolf-creature thinking she had escaped. Her colorful wings were flapping in her desperation, but her fate was already sealed. He bunched his muscles and leaped, one paw outstretched claws unsheathed. He hooked her back leg, claws sinking easily into her flesh as his other paw sank into her hindquarters, raking down.

He slammed her to the ground with his sheer weight, relishing the feel of the breath rushing from her lungs. She writhed under his claws, shifting back into her human form. He laughed, a raspy sort of hiss from his sabered jaws, claws only sinking deeper into her back, not having relinquished his grip. “You will pay for your treachery,” he snarled, voice thick and raspy in this form. He didn’t quite like the sound of it, but he supposed it added to the intimidation effect quite nicely. She went still and he was about to flip her over himself when she twisted her body sharply beneath him, her arm swinging towards his face with a blade she had procured from god knows where glinting in her hand.

He dodged it easily, stepping backwards and swinging his head up and away from her blade, but realized too late that she had torn herself away from his grip. She was on her feet again, turning to face him this time and not running like the cowardly little worm she was. He tilted his massive head to the side, wondering at her face. She seemed so familiar, and her name was on the tip of his tongue—but then she was rushing forward with a hoarse scream. She tried to feint right but he saw it coming and dodged, swiping at her legs with a heavy paw—his claws raked across her ankle, tearing through muscle and exposing the bone. She screamed and tumbled to the ground in a heap, blade skittering away into the shadows. She tried to get to her feet but he was on her in a moment, gripping her shoulders with a paw on either side.

He reared up and slammed down once, twice—a third time and he heard the crack of bone as ribs snapped under his weight. She didn’t scream, just looked up at him with teal eyes that defied him. There was no fear there, just a burning anger that surprised him. He moved a paw to her throat, claws digging in to the tender flesh at the hollow of her neck. He pressed harder and harder until he could hear her struggling for air. “Crash was my Beta, perhaps the most loyal man I have ever known,” his voice was smooth as velvet as he spoke, almost crooning to her. Truthfully he did feel a strange pull of emotion when he thought about Crash lying there in a puddle of blood. He could feel a tremble run through her and he let out a raspy laugh-hiss. “Be not afraid, my dear, I won’t kill you. Not  here, at least.”  He leaned down, taking a deep whiff of her scent; it didn’t have any definitive markers of Ring life, though there might’ve been a tinge of Fallen. “Rogue, then. We’ll have to make an example out of you. Send out a warning and all that.” She was silent, glaring up at him with hatred seeping from every one of her pores. "Oh, go on. Feel free to speak up, Rogue. I'm hardly in a state to gag you," he said, with a casual sigh. "What with the paws and all."

"It's not going as smoothly as I had planned," she said at last, an odd grin tugging at the corner of her lips. She had nice lips, a sensual mouth that went well with her sharp, clever eyes. "But really I should thank you."

"Oh?" he asked, surprised at how calm she seemed even through the labored breathing around her broken ribs. He watched her with growing interest, curious as to what would slip out of her pretty mouth next.

"Yeah. You saved me the trouble of hunting you down."


"Perhaps I'll save myself the trouble of a public execution, then." He said, gouging her shoulders with his claws until blood welled up and around them, soaking through her shirt. It annoyed him how even then she looked up at him with eyes void of anything except that glaring defiance. He snaked his head forward, jaws parted to sink into the tender flesh of her throat, but to his surprise she swung her arm up and his jaws wrapped around it. He'd wanted her throat, but he snapped his jaws shut around her muscled arm, increasing the pressure until he heard the crunching of bone; her scream was almost deafening but it gave him that delicious, familiar rush. She was clawing at his face, nails digging into his fur and seeking out his eyes, but he could feel her struggles weakening. Wouldn't be long now, so he decided that he could draw it out a few minutes longer. He shook his head from side to side, just once, relishing the feel of muscles and tendons snapping under his teeth. He had not killed before in this feline form, but there was something about its power that delighted him. Yes, perhaps he would drag it out a bit longer after all.



ooc| surprise Manic!
also

"lina speaking"

[Adison Sotero]

Adison felt his heart sink into his stomach. His father was here. And walking into the warehouse. The one Lina was in. It took every bit of his concentration to keep himself from hyperventilating. Ohhhhh, no. Adison had been keeping watch from the roof of the neighboring warehouse and was just about to make his way down to Lina. The stench of blood in the air meant that she’d achieved her goal and that it was time to wrap it all up; but this was one horrifying possibility Adi hadn’t thought about. He carefully and quietly dropped to the ground and felt his stomach turn as Lina’s screams suddenly filled the air. He snuck to the entrance of the warehouse and peered inside to find the worst-case scenario; his father had Lina pinned and was just toying with her now. If he didn’t do something and soon, there was no doubt she’d be dead. But his father would flay him alive if he went in there now; aligned himself with the girl that had killed the Beta. He’d be a traitor and everything he’d worked for would be ruined. He could still get away undetected if he left now… Another of Lina’s agonized screams rang through the air and it almost brought him to tears just hearing it. No, he couldn’t lose her! If he could only get Manic off of her for a moment, just maybe… No, there was no time to think. He took a deep breath and shifted into his tiger form. He bounded into the warehouse and charged straight for his father. Adi leapt and slammed all of his weight into Manic’s side, simultaneously knocking him off of Adelina and knocking all the breath from himself. He dragged himself to his paws and raced back to Lina’s side, to stand between her and Manic. “L-leave her alone,” Adison begged, voice shaking. His shaking was mirrored in his legs, which trembled beneath him and barely held him up against the sheer terror that filled him. His father was going to kill him for this.

[Manic]

One moment he was staring down into a pair of beautiful turquoise eyes and watching the pain and fear slowly leach into their depths despite her best effort; the next, pain exploded in his ribcage and he was sent to the ground in a tumble. He rolled into the fall and caught himself landing neatly on his paws, whipping his head up to see who had attacked him. Pale green eyes fell upon the pale brown of his son’s, shock and dismay rippling through him almost visibly. Everything connected then, as Adison stood between Manic and the enemy, defending her, the vile creature that had killed his Beta, his superior. He took in Adison’s quaking body, his little display of bravery, and the shock was not long in being replaced by something altogether more unrelenting.

Fierce and sudden and irrepressible was the rage that crackled through his body, writhing in the pit of his belly and tearing through him until it ripped from his lungs as a savage roar. By the gods he swore it could shake the heavens themselves but try as he might he could not make his jaws form words or sounds other than that scathing bellow. So he lunged and with claws unsheathed he let loose another roar as savage as the last, aiming a blow at Adison’s striped head. The force of the impact sent a shiver of pain up his own arm but he laughed as Adison’s body crumpled underneath him, and stepped over his body.

He prowled towards where the woman lay, her chest heaving in her efforts to breathe, clinging to life like a fragile little bird. He stood over her again and watched her eyes as she struggled to focus on him through the pain. Tears trickled down her face and he leaned down, rough tongue sliding along her cheek to lap them up, as if trying to comfort her in her last moments. “Adelina,” he purred, finally remembering her name. “So nice to finally meet you.” Adison’s little whore, the mother of their ill-fated bastard child. That problem had solved itself though, thankfully, and he hadn’t even had to lift a finger.

As he stared down at her as she bled out excruciatingly slow, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with her. That his son had allowed his emotions to be compromised by a Fallen succubus and was now a traitor to both his Ring and his father was clear. All that remained to be decided was their punishment. He supposed if he let the girl live he could draw out her torture, and thus Adison’s. He was sure that this Adelina was made of strong enough stuff to last for months and months until her body finally gave out. But he knew Adison was weak, and would break long before then. Probably throw himself off the Cliffs.

He had just about decided that keeping them both alive until he could figure out a punishment worthy of their misdeeds when he heard Adison rousing, heard that same fearful plea of Please Father leave her alone”. He was silent for a moment, back turned to the creature that dared to call itself his son, still staring down at the bloody wreck beneath him. The rage had diffused succinctly, quietly, but just the sound of Adison’s breath heavy on the air sparked it back to life. He lifted a paw and swung a heavy paw carelessly at Adelina’s head, relishing the tear of her skin beneath his claws. Her neck snapped to the side and she went still, dead to the world for all intents and purposes.

He heard a strangled cry that was Adison’s reaction and he turned his attentions to him. He was on his knees, having shifted back; blood trickled from his temple where he had hit his head on the ground when he fell. Manic was on him in two steps, shifting fluidly as he moved so he was able to grab a fistful of Adison’s hair. He hauled the boy up by his scalp and dragged him towards Crash’s body, ignoring the plaintive cries. Manic still hadn’t said a word to him, not even as he slammed the boy up against the wall just beside the door. He fixed him with a stare that told him to stay as he swung the doors shut, walked to Crash’s body and fished around in his coat for something.

An odd tension in his throat as he felt no warmth underneath his fingertips as it brushed against Crash’s skin; he had seen death since the day he’d been birthed, and had become death in itself—and yet the knowledge that Crash would no longer be at his side bothered him more than it ought to. Disturbed, Manic fished around his Beta’s coat pockets, secured what he’d been looking for and turned to face Adison again. He looked down at the worn handle of the switchblade Crash had used for years, a frown creasing his scarred lips as memories poured over him, threatened to consume him—he flicked open the blade.

His eyes flicked up to Adison and in two steps had him pressed against the wall again, a hand wrapped around his throat. Manic could feel his pulse hammering underneath his fingers which dug like claws, and he grinned. He brought the blade to rest on Adison’s cheek, the sharp tip pricking the skin just under his eye and drawing blood.

“I always knew we would end up here,” he said, speaking at last. “But I did not think that I would be so justified in my recourse.” The usual calm in his voice wavered as he struggled to keep hold. “But here we stand. And you too much of a coward to even do the job yourself. ” The blade cut deeper, blood oozing down Adison’s pale cheek as the fervor in him rose to watch this pathetic creature squirm and suffer in the face of his wrath. Adison made a sound deep in his chest, one borne wholly of terror and started speaking, babbling, pleading, trying to explain—“ENOUGH!” he roared, his voice a hoarse bellow inches from Adison’s face; Adison’s whole body flinched under the snarl, but Manic’s grip did not slacken nor did his voice lower from that loud, harsh sound. “I did not give you permission to speak. You will suffer for your insolence, boy, and I swear by the gods I will do what I should have done from the moment I saw you take your first breath. I will make you scream until there is no air left in your lungs and I will wring from you every last drop of blood until there is nothing left of you but ash and bone!” His voice shook, voice straining as he shouted his promise. "You will not shame me with your existence any more."

[Adison Sotero]

Adison awoke in a daze, his head screaming in agony. He blinked through blurred vision and saw his father looming over Adelina, and suddenly it all came back to him. He’d hoped more than anything that it had all been a nightmare and nothing more, but the blood dripping down his face from the gash on his temple told him that he wasn’t dreaming. He let out a horrified cry as Manic’s massive paw swept across Lina’s face and snapped her head violently to the side. Before Adison could try and figure out whether she was still alive or not, his father was on him and dragging him to his feet by his hair. Adison screamed again, begging for Manic to let him go. Only when he was slammed up against the door did he notice Crash’s body. A chill ran through him as he met the Beta’s empty gaze. Seeing the target for his hate lying there lifeless was less satisfying than he thought it would be. In fact, it made him queasy and he had to look away. He didn’t have to avert his gaze for long, as his father had him pinned again in the next moment. Adison gasped and shriveled underneath his father’s gaze. In his eyes he saw a burning fury that he’d never seen there before. It terrified him. “P-please, I just wanted to make you proud! To be your Bet—“ He was cut off by a roar unlike any he’d ever heard. Adison clenched his eyes shut and cowered in his father’s grasp. It was almost difficult to hear his father over the roar of his pulse in his ears. His body shook uncontrollably and tears flowed freely and silently from his eyes. Adison was too scared to even whimper, much less try to beg for his life again. He had never seen his father lose his composure; even when Adison had deliberately disobeyed an order, or when his father had punished him for said crime, Manic had conducted himself with an eerie calm. Adison didn’t doubt his father’s promise for a second. Shame. He was nothing but shame to his father. He’d always known it deep down, but now it was clear that he’d never had a chance of changing that, no matter how hard he’d tried. This whole plan had been in vain. It was a horrible mistake that would cost more than Crash’s life. Adison could only open his eyes slowly, cautiously, and stare in terror into Manic’s. He opened his mouth and for a moment, he could only stand there and shake. “I-I’m sorry F-father,” was all he could muster.

[Manic]

“I-I’m sorry F-father,”

His reply was simple, and fast. He dug the blade in hard and swept it down Adison's cheek, cutting through flesh and tears. Blood gushed thick and heavy from the clean slice, flowing in a bright red rivulet down Adison's neck. There were fresh wounds there that Manic hadn't noticed before, as if flames in the shape of a hand had left their mark. Confused for a moment as to how those wounds got there, Manic paused for but a moment before he trailed the tip of the knife across Adison's jaw, down the side of his neck along that pulsing vein that sang with his life-blood until he reached that odd shaped wound. He tapped the burn lightly, and feeling the recoil at even that light touch Manic twisted the blade hard and fast deep into the burn.

The screams that met him sent a shiver of delight pulsing through him—he had waited years for this, waded through years of disappointment and loathing for this thing that masqueraded as his son. “There is no wound I could inflict, no agony I could bring you that could equal how much you deserve. Though I admit I am sorely tempted to rise to the challenge.” He was grinning now, despite the rage that runneth over and admittedly made it hard to concentrate on the pain singing through Adison.

“You are nothing. You are a blight on my name, a cancer that needs to be drilled from my skull,” He paused, carving the blade again and again into the burned, oozing flesh. Blood soon saturated Manic's hand, slick and warm and grounding. “You are a parasite, seeking to bleed me of every ounce of glory. I have done nothing but provide for you, feeding you of my own flesh and blood since the day you were born and you,” he snarled, flecks of spittle flying from his lips. “You have done nothing but fail me at every turn. And now you have betrayed me and in so doing reached a low that not even I could have anticipated.”

He shook his head, snorting in dismay. “You are not my Son, you never were. You do not deserve to call me Father,” he said, his voice starting as a low growl but as he spoke it continued to rise in fervor and volume until he was shouting again. He moved the blade from the burns on Adison's shoulder to his neck, slicing a thin line across the jugular. Blood bloomed bright and vivid from the thin slice, and Adison pulled sharply away with a desperate scream.“You do not deserve to share the same blood as I, to walk the same earth, to draw the same air—“

Pain exploded in his chest like a bolt of lightning sent from the gods themselves, and then a quiet numbness as he glared into Adison's eyes and the darkness there opened to swallow him up.

[Adelina Russovo]

Her hand still gripped the hilt of the dagger that jutted from his back, knuckles stained bright red with blood. She clung to that hilt even as she felt the life leave his body in a last shuddering, gurgling breath and he slumped forward onto Adison’s chest. She struggled to breath around her broken rib, struggled to keep herself upright as blood poured from her crushed arm and she tried to keep her weight off her shredded ankle. And still she kept her eyes glued to Manic’s back, to that dagger that was still stuck in her hand and accusing her of all the world’s sins.

The Alpha of the Carna was dead. Adison’s father was dead. She had killed him, this monster that had tormented her family, her Ring, for as long as she had drawn breath. He, this monstrous figure of nightmare and legend had fallen at her hand, even now his life-blood drained from his body and onto her hands, spreading in a growing puddle on the floor. His blood was slick and sticky, and felt so normal. So human.

Her thoughts were muddled from the blow to the head, her sight blurred by the blood from Manic’s claws still trickling into her eyes. She couldn’t wipe it clear, one arm dangling limp and broken at her side the other still clinging desperately to that blade. But then she remembered him, Adison. The reason she had dragged herself from what she had assumed was to be her death place, had dragged herself to where her blade had been lost under a crate, praying that she could get to her feet; she had limped with her broken ankle to where Adison’s screams were bleeding one into the next and she couldn’t hear anything but his terror, his agony—

And then the sickening squelch as she drove the blade into Manic’s back, guiding it expertly between his ribs and sinking straight into the heart. She looked up at Adison, lips parted as she tried to speak, fingers finally loosening from the blade as she felt the world start to spin and darkness threatened to swallow her up. She reached out for him, a wordless cry slipping from her as the world turned bright white and she felt herself falling.

[Adison Sotero]

The agony seemed like it would go on forever. Each slice into his flesh felt like it was made with burning hot iron. The burn Fen had given him had barely begun to heal, and his father took full advantage of it. He screamed until his throat was raw, and then he screamed some more. Each sound of anguish bled into the next. But he deserved this. Manic didn’t have to spell it out to make that much clear; but he did, and Adison only cowered and took his punishment as it came. The knife danced across his throat and he felt the warm blood sliding down his neck. It sent him pulling away in a panic; he was going to die, he knew, but he couldn’t help but fight to delay it as long as possible. He stared into his father’s eyes like a deer in headlights, knowing the hate and loathing for him that they harbored would be the last thing he saw. But suddenly the light faded from Manic’s eyes, and he slumped forward onto him. Adison was stunned into silence and caught the man out of reflex. His mouth hung open in disbelief and confusion. Until he finally spotted Adelina, and the hilt of the knife jutting out of his father’s back. He let out a horrified scream, but he wasn’t sure what he was screaming about the most; his pain, his father’s death, the way his dreams and identity had been shattered, or the looming threat that he might lose Adelina as well and be left with nothing. He felt himself growing dizzy with his overwhelming anguish, but he shook it off and dove forward to catch Adelina, dropping Manic’s body on the floor next to Crash’s. He’d made this choice long ago, and though he had been holding onto hope that Manic would finally be proud of him, he chose Lina over all else. He gingerly scooped her up into his shaking arms and took a moment to plant a kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to take care of you,” He promised. Adison pushed open the warehouse door and ran. He would run until the Carna Ring was far behind him and he wouldn’t look back. Ooc: END THREAD.