Closed RP Hemorrhaging

This RP is currently closed.

Obsidian jerked away, a short yelp of pain as he shook his hand out and looked at the wound. The spike had been narrow enough not to permanently damage anything in his hand, but it had pierced right through it, just like Cryptid’s bagh nakh had his forearm. He stared at the bloody hole as it started to drip blood down his arm and onto the ground. He growled in pain and frustration. This was going to take so much energy to repair over the next few weeks. And it was going to scar his already ruined palm.

For some reason, the idea of the scar made him far more angry.

Then, before Obsidian could react or say anything, four shots rang out from near the stairs. He yanked his attention of Cain and his witty fucking mouth and turned his eyes to Rowe, who had just come out firing. He smiled in the man’s direction, a feral and angry smile, in approval of his actions. Then, he turned back on Cain, moving in.

Hematite, whose legs had been pinned by crystals into the floor, nearly fell over. He managed to wave his arms and catch himself. He straightened out and assessed the strength of the crystals, then balled his fists together and slammed them down and into the branches. They shattered under his steel fists, the crystals scattering across the floor. He kept charging, reaching to grab the man who had been knocked off his balance. He didn’t take the time to process if the shots he had heard had actually pierced the man’s body. He reached out for him, intending to grab his arm and spin around him, pinning it to his back. Then, if Hematite managed to do that, he would grab the man's other arm and pin it to his side.

Sulphur backed off even further. He moved over to where Rowe was and ducked down behind the bar with him. His arm was bleeding profusely into the shirt that Hematite had given him. He wanted to help, but both of his gases would affect all three of them men currently fighting, and with his fucked metabolism, Ethan was particularly susceptible. He had no idea if Cain would be as susceptible, so it was better for him to stay out of range until something happened that required immediate action.​
 
The two gunshots ricocheted right off of Cain's forehead with a low reverberating tone that shook through his entire body. While they didn't penetrate, Cain was knocked back and his whole vision shook like an earthquake was affecting him alone. The shot to his chest knocked the wind out of him, and the shot to the neck did little more then hurt like a bitch. Cain was just able to keep himself on his feet, but instinctually, all his focus turned to the shooter. He swung his arm and shot out rapidly three darts which flew through the air just before Hematite grabbed his arm and pinned it behind him.

"Damn," Cain said, pulling against the larger man's grip with no avail. "What's your routine, brother?" He struggled against the entrapment like a caged animal, but couldn't break through. Spikes popped out of his back and arms at every angle to quickly stab at Hematite before retreating back into Cain's flesh. These had no real effect, so instead Cain leaned into the larger man, almost embracing him. Blood flowed out of his many wounds like floodgates had been opened, it ran over both their limbs thick as oil and slowly began to encase them both together. Crystals forming at their base and begging to snack up Hematite's arms towards his neck; and eventually his mouth. Cain laughed, or was it coughing, in a manic deranged matter, blood and gems flowed out of his mouth like water.
 
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The shots didn’t pierce Cain’s skin, but it was enough to let Hematite catch him and pin his body tight to his own. It was enough, because he couldn’t hurt Hematite. The spikes of crystalline blood cracked harmlessly against his chest and arms, steel as they now were. He chuckled a bit at the request for his workout routine and opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Blood was trailing up his arms, turning to crystals as it went. He realized almost immediately what was happening and closed his lips tight, eyes flashing up to Obsidian’s.

And Obsidian– Ethan saw his brother in trouble. His pack member, his brother, his. All at once, the rage that he had been suppressing over Malachite’s death came roaring to the forefront, echoing through his bones and his blood and his skin. It rippled like a wave, and his vision went red as he rushed in. He was there in the blink of an eye, his right hand wrapping tightly around Cain’s throat, and with a feral grin, he pulled.

This wasn’t like before. He didn’t pull slowly and smoothly, expecting the fear and paralysis to set in. He ripped what Cain had inside him to the surface, breaking the nozzle off the hose until it flowed freely the way it was meant to. Then, he pulled it all into himself, his eyes holding Cain’s, his sharp yellow eyes so full of fire and cold and pure rage. He drew what was there, breaking through the blocks, ripping off the faucets, and forcing everything to flow properly.

“tell me, Cain. Do I still seem like a bottom to you while I’m eating you alive?”

There was no trace of humor or flirtiness in his voice. All there was was sharpness and vitriol, drawn from deep inside him. Ethan hadn’t felt this level of rage since Samantha, and he had no idea why it was flooding through him now. All he knew was he was a slave to it, as much its victim as its master. The feeling of energy flooding through him so quickly left him dizzy, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop even when it felt sickly sweet and made his teeth hurt. He didn’t stop until he felt the flickers, the sparks, the core fire inside every person.

And then, with a smile, he took them.​
 
Cain offered a red smile in return, no fear entered his eyes, only a manic playfulness. He laughed and managed to choke out. "I'd... top you any day." He spluttered and choked on his own blood, it came out in a half liquid half crystalline sludge like the run-off of a fracking operation inside his body. The coldness gripped him, and pulled Cain from the light of life and into that dark red place that awaited him. Seas of blood, with flames underneath it that brought it to a boil like some great infernal witches brew. Hooks tore at his flesh and rendered it from his bones. His mangled corpse was then dragged to some forlorn shore, where it was struck upon a rock and left to be pecked away at by all manner of carrion and scavenger. All while old and cruel tormentors laughed and laughed and laughed. And Cain laughed with them as the marks of his sins burned on his flesh like brands. The only light in this dark cold place.

To everyone else, Cain laughed until the blood filled his wind pipe, he spasmed against Ethan's hunger but still seemed to expressed only amusement at his own death until he hung limp in Hematites's arms. A barely recognizable heap of open wounds, blood, and broken and shattered crystalline stalagmites. As he gurgled, what was his seemingly last breath the crystals began to crack and shatter away, or otherwise melt like they were ice. It was an impossible amount of blood, more than a full man twice Cain's size yet still more seeped from his body. His lifeless eyes stared at Ethan and his mouth hung open in a permanent grin.
 
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As soon as the crystals began to crumble away, Hematite let go of Cain’s body. It tumbled to the ground and lay in the puddles of blood that now spread from it. Ethan looked down at his shoes and sighed to see the blood spreading to them. He was standing in a pool of red, which might as well have happened. He looked from his shoes to Cain’s body, bent and contorted like a marionette doll that had all of its strings cut.

He looked away and around to the rest of the people in the bar, doing a tally. Hematite before him, standing and dusting crystals off himself as he made his way back around the bar. Sulphur, looking out over the top of the bar. Rowe, right next to him. He looked back up to Hematite as the man threw a rag in his direction. Ethan wrapped his hand as he tried to search the itch in the back of his head saying that wasn’t everyone. With a deep groan, he turned and looked to the third booth.

Curled up underneath it, he could just see colorful clothing and purple pastel hair. He licked his lips and sighed, walking over to the booth. He stood right next to it for a long moment before rapping his knuckles on the top of it. He didn’t have it in him to bend over or raise his voice as he said, in a tired voice, “Hazel. Come out. We need to talk.”​
 
Fights happened a lot slower in real life than they did in movies, or even blog articles. Movies had the added bonus of camera angle, of trained actors and body-doubles. Nobody really got hurt in a movie. And a news article added description, padding, almost as much as fantasy. But a real fight was over quickly, and no amount of skewing her perceptions could change that Hazel had only been under the table for a minute since the first strike landed, and now –

She tried to breathe. Her chest was tight, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the body, off the man who’d been a man a second ago and who’d just been shot four times and been fine, but Obsidian touched him and – and –

There was no camera to watch herself from. She wished there was. It would’ve encouraged her to stay in view of it, to watch herself recover. It would’ve been better to watch Cain die with that added layer of distance, that separation, where she wouldn’t see a living, breathing man go still and quiet soaked horribly in his own blood. A man who a minute ago had been alive and flirting and drinking and laughing. Who’d laughed until he died, a sound that Hazel really wished she hadn’t had to hear in stereo.

Focus. She had to focus, to pull herself out of this spiral. There wasn’t a camera, but she had other senses. She forced her eyes to close, to stop staring at the still body and instead look at their own lids even if all she could still see was Cain’s mangled form. She asked herself what she felt, not with her heart but with her skin. Her drink, clutched in one hand, wet and cold. She could still taste it, smell it even over the – blood, all the blood Cain had used to tear through Slate. Her face was warm, her cheeks were cool – tears. She’d started crying, at some point, maybe because she couldn’t breathe, or maybe because she had just watched a man die, or maybe because –

God, Hazel was a witness. She’d just seen what Obsidian could do first hand. Her breaths started to come in sharp and shallow again, and she felt her body curl in on itself without her direction. She was going to die. She was going to die, there was no way Obsidian was going to let her go after this. She’d never been in this situation before.

She wished Isaiah was here. He’d know what to do. Or at least he’d be here with her. She wouldn’t be dying by herself. But she didn’t want him to die, either. So maybe it was better that she was alone. Maybe it was better that she didn’t drag him into this mess. He’d miss her. But he wouldn’t die of her stupidity.

She shivered as each knock on top of the table pierced her brain. She wasn’t even sure how she could her it; maybe she just imagined it as she heard Obsidian’s voice without hearing his voice. It rattled around between her ears without a direction. He sounded so tired, and he said we need to talk in such a normal tone. She wanted to believe he just wanted to talk, if only so she didn’t feel so scared. Maybe he did just want to talk. Maybe he was going to let her go, as long as she promised to keep quiet about this.

That gave her something to ground herself, as much as she doubted it. She relaxed, even as two more tears rolled down her face. Four beats, breathing in. Seven beats, holding still. Eight beats, breathing out.

There was no dignified way for her to get out from under the table, but she pushed herself back into the booth seat relatively smoothly. She was careful to put the half-finished drink down somewhere that wasn’t covered in papers, then wiped her cheek on the back of her hand. She must look pathetic. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be seen as pathetic here. Especially if she was going to die. But she’d always been a little pathetic, hadn’t she? Might as well die the way she’d lived.

She finally took another deep breath, and then looked up at Obsidian. She hoped he didn’t see the fear in her eyes as for the first time, she slid the headphones off. She wouldn’t spend the last minutes of her life alone with his voice.

In a small voice that made her furious with herself, she finally managed a very quiet, “Hi.”
 
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While the others started to tend to Sulphur, Ethan slipped into the booth across from Hazel. His eyes were tired, and he ran his right hand down his face with a sigh. There weren’t many options here. The easiest option would be to eliminate her. Taking her out and dropping her body somewhere would be the best course of action. He could easily drain her, he still had enough capacity for it. He could feel how much energy he had.

But Ethan found that he didn’t want to do that. She was young, and a girl, and he didn’t like the idea of ending the life of someone so innocent. Hazel had nothing to do with this fight, and while she was suspicious, she wasn’t out to get them. She was just a girl who spent her time in his bar.

“Are you alright? Are you injured at all?”

He looked her over, looking for any injury she might have sustained. He didn’t like this situation they were in. He wasn’t happy that he had to make some kind of choice about this. She was so young, so clearly upset and afraid. It was in her eyes. Ethan sighed again and shook his head.

“Listen. You saw some shit today that you shouldn’t have. I don’t want to hurt you. Can we come to an agreement about your silence?”​
 
Hazel watched Obsidian slide into the seat across from her and tried to keep her breathing under control. She didn’t want to shudder as he mentioned her silence. She didn’t want any of this. Underneath the fear, the first few notes of anger started to run across her mind. Not anger with Obsidian. Anger with herself.

But she kept her voice quiet, and wiped her face again with the back of her hand.

“I’m – not injured.” She took a shaky breath. Closed her eyes, then reopened them, letting some of the light come through. She even laughed, weakly. “I can’t really lie and say I’m fine, can I? I’m really not. But I will be.”

The persona started to form around her again, hiding the more delicate feelings, especially the fear. This was a different fear from her usual anxieties. Her life had been kinda-sorta in danger before, but never without Isaiah to sweep her out of harm’s way, and never like it was now. This wasn’t a random force of nature, this was a metahuman who would kill her exactly the same way he’d just killed Cain if he thought she was a threat.

He was giving her a choice about it, at least. Her silence for her life.

She didn’t want to make that choice. She felt like a coward. She shouldn’t agree to keep this to herself just because – just to protect herself. She shouldn’t be scared to die doing this. It made everything she’d done so far, everything she’d put into Arcane Eye, feel worthless, hypocritical. But she couldn’t agree and just write up a post about this anyway, even if Panopticon was detached from her real face. That’d just be proof of who she was, and she couldn’t risk her anonymity there, not if she wanted to keep working. And she couldn’t just leave and never come back here, because that would mean a dead end to her investigation.

She needed– terms, she decided. Real terms. He mentioned an agreement – she couldn’t agree until she was sure what he had in mind. Maybe there’d be conditions, but complete and total surrender might not be necessary. He didn’t know she’d be willing to give that much.

“We could,” she said, slowly. Still too shaky. She could lean into it, but she really didn’t want to. She didn’t need to, anyway. She felt like a breeze could tear her apart right now. “Come to an agreement, that is. We could. What do you want?”
 

For a moment, Ethan just looked at the girl. He could feel that she was getting angry. Whether that was at him or at one of the others, he had no idea. All he knew was that she was getting emotional. And emotional, while not a bad trait, was not what she needed to be right then. If she wanted to discuss terms, and it seemed she did, then she needed to calm down.

“Hazel, relax. Take a deep breath and relax.” He leaned forward on the table, letting his hair fall forward. It flopped in loose curls over his face and he pushed his hand up to contain them at the top of his head. He was so tired now, despite having just fed. His body was buzzing, but he felt weighed down by the energy that he had taken from Cain. Like he had just taken in a sludge or a slime rather than a fizzing drink.

Maybe it was getting to him that he was lonely, and not in the normal sense he usually thought of with that word. No, he had another predator now, one much worse than him in ways and so much better than him in others. His pack had never been closer, had never been more loving to one another. Instead of falling apart at Mal’s death, they decided to band together even more so than before.

Ethan had to admit that he was lonely in the way he had been left since Zeheb’s death. He didn’t necessarily just want someone to sleep with, he wanted someone to look at him that way again, like he meant something to them. And for half a second, Cain had let him think he was at least going to have that for the night. Now, now he was forced to recognize that that was what he was staving off– that feeling of loneliness.

“I want your silence about everything you just saw. My ability, Cain’s death, Hematit– Raphael’s ability. We’ll be in danger if people find out who we are. We can’t have that. More men like Cain will come after us, come after my family, and I can’t have that happening. So what will it take for us to come to this agreement?”​
 
Hm. Maybe she should’ve had a question prepared when she asked.

She hadn’t thought she’d make it this far, to be honest. She wouldn’t have been able to do anything with a hard ‘no’. But… Obsidian wasn’t looking well. Hazel brought herself to look into his eyes, and she could see it, behind the mask of blood and youth. The exhaustion. He was done. Spiritually and mentally. For just a moment, it tugged at something in her heart. He looked a bit like Isaiah did, a lot of the time.

But this wasn’t Isaiah, she reminded herself sternly. And then she took his advice. Closed her eyes, and practiced a breathing exercise. Twenty seconds to think.

It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion of what she wanted. Just a question, just an answer. But she had to phrase it right. This was extremely delicate. If she pushed her luck, she could still be history no matter how tired Obsidian looked. He was still a monster. And worse, he was a monster protecting his family. She wasn’t sure she bought that, but the sentiment helped her get over her high emotions.

When she opened her eyes, Hazel glanced at Cain’s body, then quickly looked back at Obsidian.

“For my own… peace of mind,” she said, as if she was making it up as she was going along. Which she was, but it was usually better to pretend to herself that she wasn’t. “And– the agreement is I’m not telling anybody anyway. But… I’ve got one question.”

She almost looked at the corpse again, then didn’t. Couldn’t. Genuinely, which frustrated her, but she tried hard not to let it show.

“What the heck was that? What did you do to him?”

Now, Obsidian could lie. Or just tell her to fuck right off. But that definitely wasn’t killing someone instantly with a touch. Unless Cain was an outlier, everyone was completely wrong about Obsidian’s powers. And even if it wasn’t necessarily a scoop since she wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone except Isaiah, it might genuinely settle some of her anxieties. At the very least, it’d settle her curiosity.
 

There it was. That was the question he knew was coming. He nodded his head, then ran his clean hand up his face, slipping it under his glasses to rub his eyes. He winced as he realized he was starting to form a headache. Meds didn’t work on him, so he was going to be stuck suffering for the next however long it took to clear up. He dropped his hand to the table to rapt his fingers against it in rhythm.

Ethan looked Hazel over one more time. Her purple hair against her dark skin and her surprisingly green eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek and gestured to Cain’s corpse. “I didn’t do that. At least, not the blood part. I killed him, that part is true. He was going to kill Raphael if I didn’t.”

He scratched the back of his neck. His fingers pushed through the short hair and he sighed. He needed to trim back his undercut again. That was frustrating. He didn’t even know why that was something he had noticed, but now he couldn’t stop noticing it.

“The easiest way to explain this is that I’m an energy vampire. Everyone’s nervous system is powered by energy, both parts of it. Everything in your body requires energy to run. Food is broken down into parts and those parts give your body the energy it needs to function, right? I don’t have to eat. Instead, I have to eat people’s energy. I don’t always kill them, but people like Cain I feel… no remorse for.”

That was a lie. Ethan felt it eating him up, could feel the death weighing him down. After the last hunt he had been on, with Todd, the idea of killing people had left him feeling uneasy. Something about that night had changed him, and he wasn’t sure what it was. Not really.

“Whatever happened with all the blood, that was all him. I have no idea what that was. God, I need a drink. I’d offer you one, but given you’re underage…” Ethan stood back up and started walking through the blood, uncaring about his shoes as he moved. He made it toward the bar, his clean, gloved hand ruffling his hair.​
 
Unbeknownst to anyone in the room, during the conversation, a soft whirring sound emanated from Cain's still form. Along with a series of clicks and other machine noises. None of these were loud enough to draw anyone's attention until Ethan started moving to get a drink, that's when a loud noise pierced the silence of the bar.

BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP
​
The beeps paced out with long stretched between them, but loudly that they were nearly painful to the ears. After the sixth beep, it stopped, and then came a sound of electricity gaining charge. And then came a thunk! The sound of heavy impact onto flesh. Cain's whole body jerked. A pause, then another thunk! And Cain jerked again. Then during the pause, softly, but much more loud than it should have been; everyone in the Diamond would hear a thump, thump... The sound of a heart struggling to beat. The vest under Cain's clothing compressed again with a thunk! Pressing his chest down, and cracking his ribs in a violent mockery of CPR. His heart came to life again. Thump! Thump!

In tune with the heartbeats, all of Cain's blood twitched in response, as if the soundwaves were rippling it. The blood seemed to come alive and began trickling towards Cain in rivers and drops. It flushed into his open wounds, his nose, his mouth, his eyes. His wounds began to close, the damage repaired. His heart beat loudly, thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! The vest charged electricity, and delivered a shock.

With a loud gasp, Cain sat up suddenly. The last of the blood disappearing down his throat, the diamond now stood still damaged but blood-free. Cain groaned, stretching his neck from one side to another with violent cracks!

"Jesus..." Cain groaned, he began struggling to his feet, every bone in his body seemed determined to crack and pop back into place as violently as possible. Despite this, he looked totally unharmed, he turned and looked at Ethan and offered a wide grin. "They weren't kiddin' that is one helluva a way to kill a guy! Damn sugar, what other tricks you got?"
 
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Rowe stood up slowly when the enemy went down. Obsidian reminded everyone why he could be considered the scariest monster in Pittsburgh and beyond. The blood was new – more likely an aspect of the enemy’s abilities rather than the boss’s.

He took stock of the situation. Sulphur, injured, but alive. He’d survive until the boss said the situation was over. Hematite, steel, intact. Cain, terminated. The boss, attending to the girl, Hazel Beauvais. Rowe wouldn’t have recommended doing that, but he wasn’t being paid to make recommendations. He was being paid to keep Obsidian alive. And the girl wasn’t a threat, especially not after what she’d just witnessed.

The boss finished with her and walked back to the bar. With his assessment done, Rowe had looked back at the corpse in the middle of the room. Something wasn’t right. He trusted that feeling without question or overthinking, and just focused on the enemy on the floor.

That’s when he realized he could hear the whir.

By the time he clocked that, the body began to beep. Rowe had lots of experience with suicide missions – low-life drug lords would do anything to get a shot at each other. And then there was his military experience to add to that. So he didn’t hesitate. He reached across the counter, grabbed the boss by the collar of his coat and the small of his back, and dragged him across the bar. He could ask for forgiveness when the boss survived this. Then, he ducked, his back to the bar that might turn into lethal shrapnel if the bomb was powerful enough. He put one arm around Obsidian’s back, and tucked the younger man’s head into his chest to prevent any trauma to the skull.

Then he waited. He waited through the sound of two hard compressions, and then a pause, and then a… heartbeat. And then more compressions.

And it processed what was really happening.

He let go of the boss right away, once again without giving the thoughts time to do more than form. He was on his feet, the Sig drawn. The heavy gun required two hands to shoot accurately, and accuracy was important right now. He waited until the target rose to his feet, letting him get his comments out before taking aim to shoot him.

Thirteen rounds, one after the other, right in the smartass mouth.
 

Ethan wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He’d been at the bar, pouring himself a whiskey, and then he was suddenly on the ground. There was a moment where he could see, and then a moment when he couldn’t. It wasn’t until he realized that Rowe’s body was on top of his that he realized he could hear a strange whirring sound. Several things dawned on him then, all in quick succession.

One. Rowe had yanked him over the counter and had thrown his body over his. Rowe was protecting him, because two, Cain’s body was attached to a bomb. There was a bomb in his fucking bar, and Rowe was using his body to protect Ethan. Which led to three– Ethan didn’t want Rowe to get hurt. He wanted to roll over and cover the man with his own body and protect him instead.

But he didn’t have time to address any of those things. He didn’t have the time before the– was that a thunk? What kind of bomb went thunk?

After a moment, Rowe popped up over the edge of the bar. Before Ethan could process what was really happening, Rowe unloaded thirteen shots, all in quick succession. He groaned and pushed himself to his knees. His back and ribs screamed at being dragged over the counter, but he was more than happy for the reason. Rowe was doing his job, and Rowe had tried to save him, and he didn’t want Rowe to die. Plain and simple.

On the other side of the bar, Hematite looked up from where he had thrown himself over and around Hazel. There was no explosion. He had run, as fast as he could, when the whirring had started. He had let his skin phase back to metal, and then when he had arrived at the table, he had pushed her into the seat, knocked the table up and over them, and turned it to steel as well. It would have proven a good barrier for whatever bomb was about to go off. But nothing went off. Instead, he counted thirteen shots being fired and colliding with something hard. Small cracking sounds, like stones being fractured, resonated through the air and through his metal skin.

He let the table fall and sat up, getting himself off of Hazel. Then, with an apologetic smile, he offered her his hand and helped her sit up. Then he turned to see that Cain was upright, looking toward the bar. And Rowe was standing, the Sig in his hands. And he already knew Ethan was on the floor, but as he watched, the tall man stood and groaned, looking over the counter next to Rowe.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”​
 
With so much crystal being formed in his body, Cain was about as resilient as the bar's namesake at the moment. So when the shots hit him, it mostly just felt like he was being rapidly punched in the face as the bullet pinged right off him. It knocked his head back and nearly flattened him back onto the floor. But he managed to keep upright.

"For God's sakes it ain't gunna work!" Cain got to his feet, and stretched his back with a crack!. He held up his hands in surrender. "Dunno about ya'll but I'm beat, how 'bout we call it there?"
 
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Ethan glared at Cain as the bullets bounced off of him. For a moment, he did nothing, said nothing. And then he turned to look at Hematite where he was protecting Hazel. He gave him a small nod in Cain’s direction, and the big man nodded, the rings and beads in his dreads knocking together loosely, making a small chiming noise.

The man stood, rolling his shoulders back to give the full impression of just how big he was, and made his way toward Cain. He picked the man up, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him to the front door. Hematite kicked the door open with his foot and then dropped Cain outside the door and onto the sidewalk. He gave him a narrow-eyed look before turning back and walking back into the building.

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon. He’s not going to be stupid enough to come back around, is he?” Ethan’s voice was clipped and full of frustration. Not only did the man try to emotionally manipulate him, he was also a fucking cockroach. Somehow, Ethan knew that he’d see Cain again, after today. He knew that Cain wasn’t done with him.​
 
Cain had barely the strength left to stand let alone resist as Hematite lifted him up like he was a sack of potatoes. He briefly considered fighting back but considering the state he was in, further use of his powers would just end up with him having back to back heart failures and really; he figured he was entitled to a short rest after that display. Obsidian had surprised him, Cain had clocked him as impulsive and easily manipulated. No so, though he had shown Cain something very valuable.

He'd shown him the monster. That rabid and violent thing that sat just under his enticing exterior, that was the thing he was hunting. And he had found it easily; this parasite, a rogue predator. Consumed only by desire, hunger, and perhaps lust. Cain couldn't help the wolfish grin on his face, confident in his hatred that he could tear Ethan Walsh apart.

At least that's what he was thinking when he face-planted into the pavement outside.

He rolled over onto his back just in time to see Hematite walk back inside, and he gave himself a moment to laugh to himself. He'd underestimated this bunch, that much was sure, but that just meant he could take this the fun way. Cain remained on the ground for several minutes, letting his body heal the last of his injuries before getting back up. He dusted himself off and waltz right back into the Diamond, showing his hands in surrender.

"I'm all done, I just what my hat!" Cain kept his hands raised and a grin on his face as he walked carefully back over to the bar. His body was still entirely hardened, and he could maintain that for at least the next few minutes. He kept Ethan's gaze as he reached the bar. He took Ethan's drink that was still there and made to drink it, when a shot rang out through the bar. Cain raised an eyebrow at the man he didn't recognize who'd shot him earlier, he smiled at the man as he licked the whiskey off his fingers.

"Nice shot," he said and he then picked up his hat and placed it on his head. He carefully reached into his coat pocket and produced a wad of cash secured by a money clip.

"For the damages, keep the change," Cain slapped the cash onto the bar, he gave a wink towards Ethan, who was just barely visible behind Rowe who's put himself in front of his boss. "Se ya'll around, sugar." he said as he slowly backed out of the bar and left.
 
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Rowe lowered his Heckler & Koch HK45 as Cain cleaned the whiskey off his fingers. He kept himself just off to Obsidian’s side, ready to step into the way if the man decided to make himself more of a problem. His face was cool, neutral, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that stood in for any warning of body language. He didn’t take that look off the cowboy until he was back out the front doors, and waited a few more seconds before holstering his gun.

He looked at the boss. He was checking for injuries, but he was also checking for something else in the younger man’s face. Just to make sure the hollow flirtation didn’t land. Then, the side of his normally straight mouth curled just a touch in a smile.

“You can take that outta my paycheck, boss.” He took a deep breath, then glanced back at the table, where the shaken green-eyed girl was just staring at them from behind a table Hematite had turned to metal. Something about her made him uneasy. He looked back at Obsidian, his next question only expressed with a tilt of his head. What about her?
 

Ethan was unnaturally still and quiet as Cain pulled his stunt. He didn’t flinch or so much as breathe when Rowe shattered the glass his drink had been in. His expression didn’t waver when the man flirted with him, and he didn’t watch him as he left the building. He waited until Cain had disappeared outside the building and was gone, until he could no longer see the man walking on the sidewalk out front.

Only then, after Rowe nodded his head toward Hazel and made a comment about taking the glass from his paycheck, did Ethan reach out and grab another of the glasses– a highball glass by the feel of it– and hurled it at the wall. He didn’t scream, he didn’t shout, and he didn’t yell. He didn’t make a single noise. The glass shattered when it hit the wall, and pieces of it flew across the booth underneath it.

He stood still, body still held tense in the after-throw position, for just a breath longer than would be normal. Then, as if nothing had happened, he straightened out and smoothed his clothes out. He fixed his hair, pushing it off to the side of his face, and resecured his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Then, very slowly and very silently, he smiled at Rowe.

“I’ll deal with her. Hazel and I will come to some understanding. Don’t worry about the glass.” He moved toward the booth Hazel had been sitting at but caught sight of Hematite. The younger man was already moving away from the stool he had taken a seat on to clean up the shattered glass. Ethan paused when he saw this and slowly nodded his head at his youngest pack member. The man gave him a friendly head shake and started cleaning. Ethan looked at his shoes for a moment before moving again.

He slipped into the seat across from Hazel once again. He took a deep breath, and the only sign of the anger that had caused him to throw glass showed. A slight tremble, at the end of his breath. The flirt had gotten to him. Just not the way he was sure Cain wanted it to. It just reminded Ethan of how he could never trust anyone, how he could never let anyone in. He couldn’t risk the ones he loved for the off chance of something working out. And he especially wouldn’t risk anyone for Cain.

"Hazel. Where were we?"​
 
From Hazel’s perspective, everything happened in a blur. The whirring and the beeping and the heavy thunks were amplified by whatever listening device was on Cain’s body. Even the heartbeats played in stereo.

She couldn’t see what was happening, however. When the beeping started, someone heavy had thrown himself over and around her. The cameras were still off. Between those things, Hazel was effectively blind. That’d be her excuse when asked why she flinched so hard when the gunshots started.

When it was all over, Raphael finally got off of her, and she took his hand to accept his help up. She returned his smile until her eyes drifted past him, and she realized Cain – the dead man – was standing.

She watched numbly as Raphael picked him up and threw him out. There was a ringing in her ears that had nothing to do with her headphones, although once they crossed her mind, she reached back and pulled them back on. The pressure was reassuring. “Safety blanket” didn’t really cut it; it was more like… well, she didn’t really know. But she unmuted both the mic and music. She only knew Cain tramped back in because his device came back in range, but she made herself busy gather up lost papers and inspecting her poor (but miraculously intact) laptop. The Italian Creme, or what was left of it, now pooled in the remains of its glass. She sighed ruefully at it, then flinched as another shot rang out and Cain tramped past on his exit.

She looked up at the counter, and saw the blond man [not Sulphur] looking at her. She quickly went back to stuffing papers in her backpack, her laptop set aside on the booth seat. She was pretending, very hard, not to notice that after Raphael moved the table it wasn’t wood anymore.

She flinched, humiliatingly for the third time, when her headphone mic picked up glass shattering. She glanced up again to see Obsidian facing a wall that had shards near the floor. He was mad, then. Maybe not at her. But he was mad.

She slipped back up onto the seat of the booth like the table was still there, and waited for Obsidian to join her again. It was a lot harder, without the cameras. She’d known days when they’d been off, but this… wasn’t like any of those. This was the first time she’d actually been in the middle of Slate’s business, and despite the tight knot in her chest, she really didn’t want it to be the last.

So she smiled as Obsidian sat down across from her, though her eyes stayed wary. “I was about to agree not to mention anything I saw here today. And… you were going to let me go home in one piece?”

Hope, in the last question. Childish and nervous, despite the way the first half brushed on confidence. Her heart was racing like a rabbit’s in her chest, and she really wished she could make it slow down somehow. She hoped she didn’t look too flushed, and that it didn’t show in her breathing.
 
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