[h1]Parooz Vs Mae[/h1]

[h3][b]Parooz[/b][/h3]

Parooz felt a shift in equilibrium. He stood there, basking in the buzzing industrial lights, chromatic smoke billowing out his pointed ears. He was descending, but to where? The devil surveyed the room, noting the abrupt transfer in scenery from mere seconds ago. From war-torn feudal lands to now a remarkably large freight elevator traversing a measureless shaft. You couldn’t tell Parooz anything. He was convinced the curator of the nexus simply wanted to piss him off. He barely had time to loosen up at the hub point. Across from Sepias, a mere cat, probably some mimic attempting to lower his guard through innocence. It didn’t do much other than stare off into the distance. It appeared the feline arrived solely for the sake of it and nothing else. If this was his opponent, he certainly has seen weirder. After his bizarre altercation with what seemed like personified lightning, nothing struck the gangster as impossible. 

The big cat probably banked on the red-skinned mobster being a fan of wildlife, but in reality, Parooz appreciated a chic fur coat or pelt rug whenever he saw one. It didn't take much detective work to deduct Sepias being on the side of poachers. His wing-tipped boots, whose tongue was actually one of some strange hell cat, alluded to his wicked intentions.

“Careful not to burn it too badly, you’ll ruin the pelt.”

A grating voice creaked out the left side of his chin. Hands-free, he cracked his neck like he had a crook in it. The further he leaned his head to the right, a pulsating tumor bulged out of a knot on his shoulder. The already gag-inducing tumor took it one step beyond with its arrhythmias pulse. With each succeeding heartbeat, a facial feature spawned—first eyes, then a nose, and lastly a multitude of clefting mouths. A nightmarishly disfigured head emerged, babbling incoherent diatribes at Mae and Parooz. At this point, the suited demon resembled a disfigured orthros.
“Fire! Burn! Kill the cat! Fucking do it! Turn it! Tie! Turn it into a Tie!”

[h3][b]Mae[/b][/h3]

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Mae Mae reads the random creep's mind.

“Aye bro, I can read your mind, I grow hair like crazy, so uh, how about you like, let me live or some shit, I don't know. In exchange for my hair, or fur, whatever you people call it. I mean, think about it, if I die, you can only use whatever's on me once. If not, then like, I'm going to dodge or whatever."

[hider=No Really...]That was the whole post[/hider]
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[h3][b]Parooz[/b][/h3]

"PPPSSSSH! That thing is trying to penetrate your mind."

A muffled voice whispered in such a manner that it could easily be heard by anyone nearby. It came from the mobster's hip, precisely where he stored his trusted pistol. The living weapon opened one of its crust-filled  stark yellow eyes, shimming upwards so that it could get a view.

"Really, now? I didn't notice."

Parooz started speaking to his glock to find out how this went undetected but there was a much simpler answer right in front of him. Before he could deduct further, his additional head rammed one its horns into his cheek.

"Ouch!"

Unbeknownst to Parooz, his violent monstrosity of a tumor represented why any attempts to read his mind failed on the spot. A brief gaze into his twisted mind revealed a chaotic space, plagued with hundreds, if not thousands of voices simultaneously arguing in a belligerent rage. It befuddled any chance a psychic could accurately decipher his thoughts without constantly being led astray by the labyrinth of conversations between Parooz's multiple personalities.
This was the reality of Parooz's cursed mind. This was how he thought, how he made decisions for himself in real time. It illustrated how much neural computing power he actually had by merely functioning. Every excess, eye, mouth, nose, head that Parooz managed to detach from his body represented a part of his soul and the multiple consciousness housed within. The only one who habitually decoded his thoughts was Ealdorman.

After literally butting heads and absorbing a few eye pokes, Parooz had enough. He mauled the additional head clean off his shoulders, uprooting it like an enormous turnip. The mafioso tiptoed forward, slotting two fingers in the head’s nose and one in its mouth before skidding it across the freight’s industrial flooring like a bowling ball right at Mae. His form was flintstone-esque, but most importantly effective, as he delivered a strike. Multiple elongating tongues burst from the incoming head’s open mouths like whips, fondling Parooz’s signature stiletto blades. The sweltering heat of the knives, which alone could melt carbon nanotube by close proximity, jousted forward with lethal intent, curving like spears in an attempt to shish-kabob the cat. One attempted to spear the creature into the elevator wall, with the following attempting to constrict its movements in anticipation of the dodge his opponent openly stated it would do.

"Make this interesting and dodge then."

[h3][b]Mae[/b][/h3]

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Mae Mae dies.

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