The people spill out of their vehicles but no doubt regret will soon pulse hot in them because he reaches them with swift predatory movements, decides in a moment to forgo his guns, to treat them to the full extent of his terrible brutality and he clears the last stretch of distance between them in one graceful leap--
--slamming down into the first hijacker and driving him to the ground. It's in him now, the rattle and shake and the fast ascending animal joy as every nerve in him screams fight and he pulls his hand back, smashes it down, tearing in through flesh and muscle and bone until his fingers curl around the man's still beating heart, yanks it free with a sick sucking wrench and he's laughing, high and sharp and piercing.
Shots are fired, three bullets thudding into his shoulder and chest but he barely takes any notice as the smoke begins to rise from him, as the wounds heal over with a sizzle and fizz of fierce kinetic energy and he's on his feet again then, whirling, tearing through them with inimical glee. There's the crunch and twist of breaking bones, shouts of panic, the screaming begins and he rips the throat right out of a man who tries to rush him, teeth sinking in deep and wrenching free, the wound bloody and open and raw and the copperhot taste of it fills his mouth, makes him spark with something euphoric, something good.]
no subject
It's carnage.
The people spill out of their vehicles but no doubt regret will soon pulse hot in them because he reaches them with swift predatory movements, decides in a moment to forgo his guns, to treat them to the full extent of his terrible brutality and he clears the last stretch of distance between them in one graceful leap--
--slamming down into the first hijacker and driving him to the ground. It's in him now, the rattle and shake and the fast ascending animal joy as every nerve in him screams fight and he pulls his hand back, smashes it down, tearing in through flesh and muscle and bone until his fingers curl around the man's still beating heart, yanks it free with a sick sucking wrench and he's laughing, high and sharp and piercing.
Shots are fired, three bullets thudding into his shoulder and chest but he barely takes any notice as the smoke begins to rise from him, as the wounds heal over with a sizzle and fizz of fierce kinetic energy and he's on his feet again then, whirling, tearing through them with inimical glee. There's the crunch and twist of breaking bones, shouts of panic, the screaming begins and he rips the throat right out of a man who tries to rush him, teeth sinking in deep and wrenching free, the wound bloody and open and raw and the copperhot taste of it fills his mouth, makes him spark with something euphoric, something good.]