#RE4 Verse;; Tainted Control

[ask-the-boogeyman]

RE4 Verse;; Tainted Control

Born and raised in Spain, Michael is far from the average citizen. Valdelobos is where he hails from, and on the mission, Kennedy finds himself on, they will cross paths.

More information to be added as progression occurs!

[ask-the-boogeyman]

THIS MAN IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF HIM, and he hates this. Every fiber of his being tells him he should just let this man fail his mission, purposely sabotage it, and do something to ruin the hero's triumph but that wouldn't do anything but bring about his own demise. Selfish as it is, Michael does not feel like dying. Death does not scare him, but it's not welcomed either. With the 'tantrum' over with, (despite the fact Leon started this because Michael had been too quiet when listening), he just heads out the door. His eyes continue forward as he notes the lack of danger anymore. Whatever he heard prior is gone, most likely wolves if anything.

Why did he even care? Butting heads like this will do nothing and he isn't going to let this man get under his skin. So it's pushed under, dismissed, and moved along as he begins to take one of the paths deeper into the area. There's a lot here, there's a lot of things that he wished were different but this is home.

Bigger and better, it wasn't about proving how strong he was or how capable of harm he is. He knows that if he gets too riled up or shot, it won't end well for anyone involved and he'd rather it not get to that point. So to prevent this, he resumes the quiet treatment prior to this encounter, jaw tight and a frown on his lips.

Part of him hopes the other breaks his damn leg or has extremely poor luck throughout all of this.

THE HIT COMES, AND LEON takes it. Though a fire ignites screaming to fight back, he pushes it down. It doesn't shock him when his nose gives way and the blood comes from it. A cursory raise to his eyebrows before a hand comes up to snap the thing back into the right place it had been knocked out of. Careless, he brushes the blood away from his face, and lets another scoff pass. 

" You done with the tantrum ? " His head cants to the side, and he lets a short laugh pass him. " You want to make a statement, try harder. I've had bigger and better than you actually give me a run for my money. " His thoughts flash back to the first bioweapon he'd ever faced - and a smugness enters his expression as he remembers how a rocket launcher did that fucker in. If he can get his hands on one here... He wonders what he could do with that. 

" You gonna behave now or what ? Because I'm running short on time to be fucking around with you here. " He motions toward the door. " I have a job to do and I'm not keen on being late getting it done. "

[aureatescars]

RE4 werewolf verse ft. @petrokhelidon

He can feel it gnawing within, writhing, slithering, a seering, burning sensation of other, of wrong just inside his ribcage. It's an ever so slowly tightening vice around his mind and body, his blood fighting it with tooth and nail, fangs and claws. He shifted days ago, because his wolf urged him to, because it makes him stronger when faced with the threat within him. It seems to stall the altering of his body, seems to have saved him from succumbing to becoming a mindless beast, a true monster to be used as a weapon for this cult and their made up God.

But there is still fight left in him. He can feel the battle of his blessing with this curse, the Plaga, as they call it. It's dulling his senses, has severed the connection he had with his pack. He doesn't know whether they're alive or dead, or worse. For the first time in his life there is no other wolf's presence at the edge of his mind. He can't sense anything beyond his own wolf and his howls haven't yielded any answer for several nights in a row.

His plan had been to escape, to free as many of his pack as he could and make a run for it, but that was before, before he saw the first one turn into an abomination, before he realized what they'd done to them, what they'd done to him, too.

They underestimated him, thought the restraints would hold him just like the others, but Sasha's wolf has always been volatile, he never dealt well with being cornered or any sort of provocation. He struggled all his life to keep his wolf in check, sometimes he was afraid of him, and maybe he still is today, but there is no denying him now, there is no fighting back this anger, because Sasha feels it too, for once they are of one mind, chasimg one goal.

He is alone, lost in a strange, hostile place, but it hardly matters anymore. He knows there is nothing left for him to do other than await his end. It will find him eventually, but as long as he can draw breath, as long as he can keep going he will sink his teeth into every goddamn one of these devils. He will take down as many of them as he can. He may not be able to win against them, but he'd tear their throats out for as long as his teeth are sharp enough to do so.

His vision blurrs as he slips deeper into the shift, the wolf's anguish is sharper than his own, his anger a fury, not yet tainted with the mourning for his pack as the human side is, too lost in its rage and want to rip and tear at the flesh of those that did him wrong.

A loud metallic clang rips through the eery silence of the woods. The wolf yelps and his consciousness fills with pain, so harsh even his human self is rattled with it, becoming more conscious. He turns around to see, to snarl and bite, but no avail. The teeth of a beartrap are burried deep in the flesh of his hind leg. He can feel blood seeping into dark fur, his bones ache under the unyielding metal. Sasha tries to wrestle back control from the wolf, knows a shift will likely be the only way out, but something stops him, his strength wanes, seeping out of him. As if... as if—

Silver.

The wolf whines, and the ache gets worse. The beartrap is likely coated in silver, preventing the shift. The wolf snarls and growls and then whines helplessly again when struggling against the trap does nothing but tear his wound deeper.

His ears pin back, he tries to pull himself free once more, but again it yields no result other than pain. Not like this. His mind pleads. Not like this. He doesn't want to die without making all of them pay.

He is so preoccupied with fighting the panic and frustration of the wolf that he doesn't even notice the footsteps on gravel and the low noise of snapping twigs, doesn't realize there is a human closing in on him until it's nearly too late. But when he whips around again to growl at the supposed threat, golden eyes are not met with the hollow stare of another brainwashed or mutated villager, but rather with the sharp, yet sympathetic gaze of bright blue eyes.

And then something happens that Sasha has never experienced before. His wolf... quietens down, lowers his head and makes a pleading little sound in the back of his throat, shying away from the stranger. It's not fear, not really, but Sasha can't place it, can't pinpoint why his heartbeat slows even before the jaws of the trap are pried open and he can pull his leg free.

He takes a few limping steps, can already feel the wolf's healing take effect and work to knit his wound back together as soon as the silver's influence disappears. The wolf turns around to look up at his savior, the man's expression betraying just how unsure and wary he is of him now, hands held out infront of him to keep him at a distance, posture tensing when the wolf comes to stand at full height after being freed.

Sasha should be wary of him too, but there is no indication of a threat, despite the sharp smell of gunpowder and metal coming off of the other man. He still lacks the distinct smell of a hunter, there is no trace of wolfsbane on him, but there is a hint of blood that has his instincts flare up with a need to sniff out whatever wound there may be and soothe it.

It's disorienting. His wolf has never cared about anyone's well being this quickly. Is he this grateful after being saved? Or just lonely? Not for the first time does Sasha wish he was more in tune with his wolf, but there is nothing to be done about it now. Not when he feels the overwhelming need to be closer seeping into his mind.

The wolf lowers his head and takes a few tentative steps toward the man, making himself smaller, soft little whines accompanying a tentative nuzzle against the leg closest to him before he tilts his snout up and does the same to a gloved hand.

[ask-the-boogeyman]

A SCOFF SLIPS OUT from Michael before he starts to head out on his own. This man is going to end up in a lot of hell because he is too stubborn and not willing to listen to why Michael told him to shut up. "Throw me to my people, yes. Because that would do anything... idiot American is what you are... If you want to fight an entire village of people... okay, it is not as if I know this place since I was born." There's clear sarcasm before he merely opens the door and cracks his neck with a low growl. He should not have bumped into this man, he should not have left where he was and he should NOT have offered help.

What good does help do? When the other assumes he isn't listening due to his silence, it shows a lack of communication and foundation. Michael is far from dead weight, but amusement hangs with the malice, wondering how far the other will get if the entire town goes off kilter. Looking back, his eyes glint briefly as he purses his lips.

He hates talking, and he hates this man's attitude... Part of him wants to kill Leon, which grows stronger every moment that he's sassed at. The veins in his eyes and skin are darker, and the agitation is clear as he stands there and blocks the way. He could kill him, but what good will that do other than impulsive satisfaction?

So instead he stands there, mulling over what to do.

Eventually, he speaks again. "I heard everything. I do not like talking. Hurts my throat. You want to save the girl, then fine."

A QUICK SCOFF COMES FROM the agent. " You are my lesser, let's get that straightened out. Keep messing around and I'll just throw you to the wolves. I'm not here to be nice to anyone. I have a job, I'm a government agent, and I'm doing perfectly fine on my own if you want to just let the door hit your ass on the way out - I'm not about to complain. " A wide shrug of his shoulders, before propping up his shotgun, looking it over before starting to reload it. " One thing I don't need is you - just so you're well aware. As far as I'm concerned I have one objective and whatever I have to do to achieve it - I will. " They'd made it clear a long time ago when he'd first been pulled in. He knows - follow orders, if you ever want to see Sherry again. It still bothers him, even now. A grimace crosses his features, before he uses the shotgun to shove the other out of his way. 

" Get out of my way. You're just going to be dead weight if all you do is never listen then bitch when you're told to listen. " Another scoff as he readies the shotgun, rolling his eyes before attempting to push through the doorway, to move forward. 

[ask-the-boogeyman]

SIMILAR ANNOYANCE SHOWS BLUNTLY ACROSS THE CIVILIAN'S face. Michael listens, vaguely, lips twitching with cold malice that creeps into his skull and gnaws at his mind. Of course, he was listening, but he was always paying attention to the world around them. His attention draws elsewhere before he rises to his feet, coldly glaring down at the man. A man of near silence and very few words, Michael leans in then before he bluntly speaks with a simple phrase.

"Shut up. You're too loud... If you want to die, fine, keep whining. I am not your lesser, do not lecture. Ever."

[reverse+Leon] ❛  are you even listening to me?  ❜ / @ask-the-boogeyman

ANNOYANCE FLICKERS ACROSS THE AGENT'S face. How many times does he have to explain things ? His teeth grit together, but he closes his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest with a huff. " Are you even listening to me ? Will you even pay any attention to what I'm saying ? I'm getting tired of repeating myself to everyone. If you're not going to pay attention or listen - leave. I'm not dealing with this. This is not what I signed up for and if I have to go alone to get it done then I will and I will make sure I report it. "

[ask-the-boogeyman]

Michael grits his teeth, keeping an eye on the shotgun before he lets the anger get the best of him. he's aware of the subtext, he knows better than to react this way, but the itch in the back of his skull has his nerves on fire and his eyes scrunching closed as he breaths out harshly. It's as fast as he can move, quickly launching the punch directly towards the other's nose, hoping to break it. It's not the right action, but he has had enough of this man's voice.

Slaughtering those who have been subjected to things inhuman... It sets his anger off bigger than anything. He also can't fight the way his body is beginning to coil and the way his veins protrude more at the height of emotion. No words are spoken, he doesn't care if it doesn't connect, if it does connect... He just wants something red in his vision and if that means making the other realize he is just a grumpy asshole but a helpful one, then so be it. He'll punch his lights out, over and over again.

When his eyes finally open, they are red, a familiar trademark of the citizens in this 'shithole' but he hasn't exactly gone rabid. it just seems he's pissed off more than anything else, a malformed reaction as his body fights off the reactionary impulses driving the moment. The subtext is clear if Leon doesn't make it out, this place is nuked... Or if it's wiped out regardless. Either way, it's not a good thing. At least for those that want to live.

THERE'S A SINGLE TWITCH TO THE muscles in Leon's face - and his grip around the shotgun tightens. There is a part of him, a very impulsive part, that wants to shove the barrel into this mans mouth and pull the trigger. Won't be able to run your mouth if I take your head off, now would you ? He wants to bite back, but instead lets himself take a more relaxed carefree posture, rolling his eyes. 

" Yeah, yeah. American this, American that. Won't be such a nice joke when this shithole gets nuked off the map, now will it ? " Oh, it brings a laugh from him, sardonic in nature. " Not that I agree with our government, but depending what I say or if I even continue to respond and return - well. " He shrugs, before chuckling. He pauses, then rolls his eyes, checking back over the shotgun nonchalantly. " They sent me solo for a reason. " He doesn't even bother to do the bare minimum with eye contact, a purposeful action. " I'm trained to deal with all of this, including your little village full of your people. If your people don't want to meet the business end of my gun, then they stay out of my way. Can't say I enjoy government sanctioned murder, but I'm not the type of guy to hesitate. Hesitating is what gets you killed - regardless of who is on the other end of the gun. " He remembers Marvin, he remembers being told with conviction; uniform or not - you take it out or you run. 

" Now if you'll just be out of my way, I've got a girl to rescue and a whole lot of lead for whoever took her. You know, the American way. Either way - there's going to be a lot of dead - regardless of my own status. " As if I really want to continue on like this. As if I had any choice.