06-16-2009, 02:51 PM
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There was a madness within him. One thing and one thing only existed in his mind and that was killing this son of a bitch. Whatever happened to him didn't matter, as long as he did that. The cool, calculated mind was gone, burned up in that fire that raged like an inferno inside of him. The circumstances didn't matter. How it was accomplished didn't matter. All that mattered was making sure this black beast left this world. As his claws dug into that already opened wound he could feel the beast's skin twitch and felt him tense. That hurts, doesn't it fucker? He growled low in his chest, a menacing noise and dug at his side all the more fervently. Even if his other assaults did little, this one was reaching the creature. It was a soft point and Onus would milk it for everything he could. More words. Always with the words. Words were wind, they meant nothing to the crazed coyote. They only buzzed in his ears like pestering flies. He tightened his grip on the man's neck and shook violently, hoping to tear and rend the flesh. He wanted to paint the black and white beast red. He felt the wolf push away from the wall and dully heard her fall to the floor. It didn't distract him though. He couldn't help her, not now. Not until this was finished. Not until one or both of them were dead. Onus didn't even try to avoid being thrown over the man. Though when he felt the hands on his collar he dug his claws into both the man's side even deeper, knowing they would rip through his flesh as he was catapulted forward. The grip of his jaws also loosened, but did not disconnect entirely. When he was about half way through being thrown he clamped back down, twisting his neck and body so that it would not injure himself. The weight and gravity of his landing would be partially carried by the wolf as his teeth tugged into their holds. Once his feet hit the floor he clamped down even tighter. He wanted to crush his neck and rip it from his body. He wanted to hear his breath cut off and the sweet sound of gurgling as his windpipe and esophagus were crushed. His hand shot out towards that wound on his side again, attacking it with his claws vigorously. Unlike before he paid no mind to how close they were. It didn't matter what happened to him. The vigilante deserved to feel pain after he had failed the only person he loved. Even if Corvus killed him, Onus was making sure that he would take the bastard down with him.  |