TM Challenge: Joe Vs. the Volcano. It's war! Describe yourself fighting against random vamp.
Just coming off a double at work, Oz was tired, ready for some dinner and an incomprehensible foreign movie. About halfway home, Oz was also pretty sure that somebody was following him. The wolf-sense-i-ness just kicked in sometimes. He slowed his pace a little and felt the person behind him doing the same. Sniffing the air a little, he smelled stagnant blood and some cheap perfume.
Deciding the best plan of action was to just see who it was, he turned around, he said, “Fancy meeting you here,” to the tall scraggly looking brunette that was a few paces behind. She seemed a little off-balance, hungry and maybe even a little high. She was tottering on tall heels and her dress look rumpled from having been slept in.
“Hey-I, uh, do I know you?” Her voice rasped out of her throat, a little Tom Waits, a little Tina Turner. She cocked her head to one side, looking hard like she was trying to recollect, like she actually cared.
Oz gave a little shrug, “Doubt it.”
She walked a few steps closer and now he was sure, definitely a vamp. He wished that he had brought an extra pair of clothes with him. Running home naked was probably his least favorite thing about going wolf-y.
Her face started turning vamp, forehead wrinkled, eyes glinting, “What the fuck do I care anyway? I am just going to suck your scrawny ass dry and leave you by the side of the road anyway.” Licking her lips in anticipation, her arm darted out to grab Oz by the throat.
Letting go of Oz, bringing the wolf forward, felt like an agonizingly slow process in the midst of a fight. It was like a switching of perspectives, a slow blink to a new reality. Stronger, more alert, with a instinct to destroy anything moving, he had to struggle to keep a little of Oz there. That was the difference between being a wolf before and being a wolf now-he had some control. He could become himself again when he needed to. Most of the time.
The shock registered in her face, as she held his neck in a vice grip, feeling it grow furry and thick with an anticipation of violence. Oz raised his right paw, struck hard and her grip loosened slightly.
“What the..” she started to say, but was silenced as his fist connected with midsection.
She recovered pretty quickly and jabbed her heel through his thigh muscle, causing him to reel back a little from the pain, but then adrenaline and endorphins came and his strength came back to him. With both paws, he gored through her chest, her rumpled dress, down to intestines.
Looking pissed at the loss of her innards, she uppercut him in the shoulder. Feeling bones slight dislodge, Oz lunged forward with mouth gnashing, going for the throat. His muzzle connected and he crunched down hungrily, almost losing conscious Oz for a second. It was the hardest part, it brought him back to things he would rather forget.
She fell back to the ground, hitting the sidewalk hard, he went in for the kill shot, ripping with claws, finally rending her head from her body, turning her to dust.
Oz stood for a second, every urge in his body telling him to run off, find another one, do it all again. He struggled to quell the urge, let the boy take over, shift perceptions back to the human reality.
If anyone had been walking by at the moment, they would have seen a wolf shrinking, turning into a bloody naked boy breathing slowly and calmly. It was probably a good thing that no one was walking.
Oz took off to a side street, wearing the tatters of his clothing. Shuddering from the wind, limping from his leg, this was one of those moments were he was happy that he lived alone. Tucker's comments just weren't something he could take tonight.
Muse: Daniel "Oz" Osbourne
Universe: BtVS
Word Count: 651
Deciding the best plan of action was to just see who it was, he turned around, he said, “Fancy meeting you here,” to the tall scraggly looking brunette that was a few paces behind. She seemed a little off-balance, hungry and maybe even a little high. She was tottering on tall heels and her dress look rumpled from having been slept in.
“Hey-I, uh, do I know you?” Her voice rasped out of her throat, a little Tom Waits, a little Tina Turner. She cocked her head to one side, looking hard like she was trying to recollect, like she actually cared.
Oz gave a little shrug, “Doubt it.”
She walked a few steps closer and now he was sure, definitely a vamp. He wished that he had brought an extra pair of clothes with him. Running home naked was probably his least favorite thing about going wolf-y.
Her face started turning vamp, forehead wrinkled, eyes glinting, “What the fuck do I care anyway? I am just going to suck your scrawny ass dry and leave you by the side of the road anyway.” Licking her lips in anticipation, her arm darted out to grab Oz by the throat.
Letting go of Oz, bringing the wolf forward, felt like an agonizingly slow process in the midst of a fight. It was like a switching of perspectives, a slow blink to a new reality. Stronger, more alert, with a instinct to destroy anything moving, he had to struggle to keep a little of Oz there. That was the difference between being a wolf before and being a wolf now-he had some control. He could become himself again when he needed to. Most of the time.
The shock registered in her face, as she held his neck in a vice grip, feeling it grow furry and thick with an anticipation of violence. Oz raised his right paw, struck hard and her grip loosened slightly.
“What the..” she started to say, but was silenced as his fist connected with midsection.
She recovered pretty quickly and jabbed her heel through his thigh muscle, causing him to reel back a little from the pain, but then adrenaline and endorphins came and his strength came back to him. With both paws, he gored through her chest, her rumpled dress, down to intestines.
Looking pissed at the loss of her innards, she uppercut him in the shoulder. Feeling bones slight dislodge, Oz lunged forward with mouth gnashing, going for the throat. His muzzle connected and he crunched down hungrily, almost losing conscious Oz for a second. It was the hardest part, it brought him back to things he would rather forget.
She fell back to the ground, hitting the sidewalk hard, he went in for the kill shot, ripping with claws, finally rending her head from her body, turning her to dust.
Oz stood for a second, every urge in his body telling him to run off, find another one, do it all again. He struggled to quell the urge, let the boy take over, shift perceptions back to the human reality.
If anyone had been walking by at the moment, they would have seen a wolf shrinking, turning into a bloody naked boy breathing slowly and calmly. It was probably a good thing that no one was walking.
Oz took off to a side street, wearing the tatters of his clothing. Shuddering from the wind, limping from his leg, this was one of those moments were he was happy that he lived alone. Tucker's comments just weren't something he could take tonight.
Muse: Daniel "Oz" Osbourne
Universe: BtVS
Word Count: 651