Sweet Venom [✓]

04

She let out a frustrated noise, trying her best not to go over to him and slap him across the face, or better yet, use the gun on him.

Their actions had landed them into a mess, in fact nothing had gone to plan, certainly not the shooting of a possibly-innocent-civilian.

But as they all stood around the still body on the ground, thinking upon the events which had unravelled moments till now, footsteps approaching from the secluded hallways, grasped their attention and caused them to exchange glances of fear.

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He had never been afraid of monsters, it wasn't that he didn't believe they existed, but he knew they weren't furry and living under the confines of his bed and inside his closet.

He had known a real monster during his apocalyptic childhood though. One with a strong, foreign accent and a scruffy beard, grey eyes and a tattoo of a dragon, encompassed in waves of fire.

His father.

But that man was a part of his past, and today, he had moved on. Or so he liked to tell himself repeatedly, until his bloodstream was filled with comfort. There was nothing he could do to hurt him or take away from him.

Elijah Blue was thought to be a mystery. The bad wolf of lower Manhattan. An MMA, cage fighting, avant-garde man, just somewhat managing to place a roof above him and his sweet, widowed sisters head, because the world and any higher power wanted him to struggle to bring bread home.

He was lucky he had a fight, right this moment. He needed the money for more than survival.

And fighting, well that's all he knew. It was the one thing that made utter sense to him and made him see red, so much of red, which was refreshing when he was accustomed to viewing the world as only black and white through his eyes since childhood.

He wouldn't stop until he heard the snapping of bones and splatters of blood; his eyes would display rage and raw emotions and he would undoubtedly feel good when he'd slam his bruised knuckles into whoever was challenging him, bringing out the ghost of a smirk across his face knowing he was winning the battle. Regret didn't conflict with his emotions ever. It was just the way he was.

At the current moment, the steel cage loomed over two men. Eyes which stared back at Elijah swam with fear and regret. But he stared right back, unhinged and unblinking, adrenaline pumping inside him, overflowing through every vein.

Elijah's grip loosened as the person he held started making noises which he didn't like to listen to. Not when he sounded like a damned dog.

"Please let me go." The tattooed man he held at arms length, with a cracked jaw and purpling bruises cried out loud.

"No mercy." Elijah frowned grabbing a fistful of his torn up shirt, "Don't you know how things work around here buddy? I won't stop until you're on the ground."