(hei doesn't hear cain come into the alley. tough to let anything else flow in with the rush of blood, drugs, and adrenaline in his ears. it just means he's alive, something he doesn't want to be. he should be dead — and his body's willing to take that out on this innocent. his fist connects with the artist's eye, before aiming at a throat that intends to open for the expected cry for help.
the resulting wheeze is... satisfying.)
You wanted this. (spat in chinese that's immediately caught and translated by his implant, universally understood blame reverberating off of the walls of the narrow side-street.) You told me to do this.
(his nose cracks. the sternum follows, fracturing, prompting the man squeezed beneath strong thighs to choke and cough on a mouthful of tacky blood. it speckles hei's cheek, just another grim canvas he's been unfortunate enough to paint. time to stop. he has to stop. cain tells him to, echoing the hateful thought in his head that tells him what he's doing is monstrous but well beyond his control — the shout filters through the finger-snapping sound of cartilage giving way under busted knuckles.
the response is instantaneous. hei's arm freezes mid-swing, fingers held wide and bent like claws. and for the damage they've done, they might as well be.)
It's not enough. Tell me— (a heavy breath, needing to wipe the sweat out of an eye, but first:) tell me to get off of him. Now.
no subject
the resulting wheeze is... satisfying.)
You wanted this. (spat in chinese that's immediately caught and translated by his implant, universally understood blame reverberating off of the walls of the narrow side-street.) You told me to do this.
(his nose cracks. the sternum follows, fracturing, prompting the man squeezed beneath strong thighs to choke and cough on a mouthful of tacky blood. it speckles hei's cheek, just another grim canvas he's been unfortunate enough to paint. time to stop. he has to stop. cain tells him to, echoing the hateful thought in his head that tells him what he's doing is monstrous but well beyond his control — the shout filters through the finger-snapping sound of cartilage giving way under busted knuckles.
the response is instantaneous. hei's arm freezes mid-swing, fingers held wide and bent like claws. and for the damage they've done, they might as well be.)
It's not enough. Tell me— (a heavy breath, needing to wipe the sweat out of an eye, but first:) tell me to get off of him. Now.