Binds and Brands

Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty

"Don't stay out late, you know how this place gets around midnight."

"Please, we're the toughest out here."

Michael salutes off jokingly, sticking his tongue out at the lion that waited behind him. He slowly slunk his way out of the door, slamming it behind him.

He jammed his hands in his pockets and breathed in the cold night air, taking it deep in his lungs and grinning to himself. It felt nice to just take a walk away from everything for a while.

Everything seemed pleasant and slow. His feet seemed to take forever to hit the ground. His sensitive ears could pick up every sound made, and that they did. A very unusual one, at that.

His small orange ears flickered under his permanently-present-beanie at a strange sound, but he quickly shoved it off his shoulder and continued on his walk, shrugging as he strode away from the source.

Reaching the end of the path leading from the apartment, he bit his tongue and booked it full speed across the street, dust kicking up behind him. He came to an abrupt stop and was inches away from a large brick building. Grinning sheepishly and not for a second doubting that he very well could make out with a brick wall for half and hour, he turned around and slid down to sit.

Cars ran past him and break-neck speed and he only stared. Not exactly inviting, but he had learned to grow with it.

He then less-then-gracefully scrambled to his feet, kicking up dirt, and hurried on his way, turning a corner to a dark street.

Atleast it seemed that way. it was only beginning to get dark but the street seemed to swallow the shadows and spit them back out at you. It sent a minute chill down the cats back and made his hair (and fur) stand on end.

Hands still tucked in his pockets, he fiddled with the lint that had gathered there in hopes of condoling himself, but to no avail. Few people caught his eye, but they did not return the favor- thankfully- but that did not change that the area was bleak and lacked life. Metaphorically.

His heart caught in his throat when he heard a small clammer of metal behind him. He wanted to bare his fangs and tear into whatever it was, but that risked being scoped out by the residents of the slums. He slouched and furrowed his brow in hopes it deterred whomever it was.

And with that, he continued on his walk, sneakers hitting the ground-up pavement and shoulders pulled forward.

The buildings suddenly pulled away in what seemed like a sideways cavern, melting into inky blackness, the only visible thing was a small flickering fire at the end and some... thing blocking the way, right behind the curtain of dark.

And hand gingerly reached out and grabbed him roughly by the throat, pulling him in.

The second he was kicked out of his daze, he was quite literally kicked. And knee'd. A stream of blood dripped from his sleeves as one ripped a good chunk out of his arm.

Now that he was being wailed on, he could see there were atleast 4, 2 males and 2 females, large grey hoodies, jeans and gloves, and not going easy on the brass knuckles they adorned. They seemed to be coated in grisly grey face-paint, and it seemed to rub off as fist after fist met with every ounce of his body, the skin surrounding the contact blossoming purple and red.

One of them managed to grapple themselves to Michael's hoodie, and pulled him towards them, smiling like there was a swarm in their mouth and swiftly slamming a knee to his stomach.

He immediately fell to his knees, slamming into the pavement. His hands splayed on the ground and caught small pebbles in the raw skin. He began to cough up a putrid mixture of red and clear and it tasted as it smelt, metallic and sting-ridden. He crumpled over himself like a small, helpless animal being attacked and shook pitifully. Small dribbles of his rose spit drawled off his tongue. This was his end.

Then someone grabbed at his beanie.

He could feel time stop. His heart thumped in his chest so loudly he swore people across the street could hear him. Cold beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. His eyes formed into tiny slits and his tail, currently jammed in his jeans bristled.

He could feel the wool leave the down on his ears.

And something growled behind him, and threw itself at the attackers.

He could feel the fear that struck their hearts. I could sense skin being torn and teeth bared and snarling venomously. He curled in on himself more as some sort of ball of protection from the hell that split open behind him and shut his eyes.

He could swear he fell asleep for a split second.

When everything had finally calmed down, he gathered himself, tail shifting under the denim to fit between his legs in submission and looked up to see whom his savior was. A familiar face met his eyes and his expression immediately melted from fear to relief.

"T-thanks Jack." He choked out, half due to his burning throat.The previously diamond-cut lion ditched his mask and went back to the cheery SOB they loved and gleamed in response, not saying a word. Jack wiped the small speckles of red off on their jeans and made a gesture for Michael to follow him out of the alley.

Thank goodness everyone had cleared in a frizzle when the fighting kicked up, and their identities were safe for but another day.

By this time it was twilight and the air was cool and nice against the blistered and bruised skin of the felines.

At once a thought caught up with the redhead as they both turned the corner to head up to the house.

...Were the thugs still alive?

...

Hope not.