[i]“And you’ll always, ALWAYS, be what they told you you would…”[/i] “17...18...19…” [i]“Always be what those fucks’ll be…”[/i] “20...21...22…” [i]“Faceless.”[/i] “23.” [i][b]“Nothing.”[/i][/b] “24.” [i]“Degenerate.”[/i] “24!” [i]“Scum.”[/i] “24!” [b][i]“Monster.”[/b][/i] “Twenty.Four!” The silent room of solitude was pierced with a loud “thwacking” sound and a metallic cry of protest from the chains an unfortunate punching bag had been hanging on as it separated and sailed into the wall behind it. The slap of the punching bag against the concrete wall resonated in the air, hanging like a sickening ooze over a stalactite in a dank cavern. Eventually it dissipated and all that was left to convey life in the still gym room was the ragged breathing of the man who had created the sound. Sweat created a sheen that glowed in the dim light of the empty gym and Makarios Lilis stood up from his formerly hunched position. Running a hand through his chestnut hair, he released a sigh. The sigh contained no catharsis, no release nor relief, only exhaustion. Exhaustion that shouldn’t have been felt by a man under the age of 20. The exhaustion riding on the airwaves of his sigh seemed to resonate around him more than the sound from the punching bag only moments before. Today hadn’t been a good day by the stretch of any man’s imagination. His urges were coming more frequently, his impulses harder to control, his thoughts wandering a little farther. Try as he might to stave off all suggestive stimuli, Makarios knew he was fighting an uphill battle. He constantly wore his body out with any plethora of physical activities, honing his mind to become one with his body and all of the like, but even in exhaustion, he felt the Flare. He felt the rise in his senses, bursting through his mundane plane like a ceramic knife slicing through a plastic bubble. The pulse that rocked through him would serve as his only warning, a siren for his mental security to try, mostly in vain, to step its protocol to Defcon 1. After the pulse, he could almost rely on his eyes to become a tad narrowed, his nostrils to flare, though only for an instant and his heart beat to quicken. It would signal its awakening. [i]His amulet.[/i] The amulet that hung somewhat loosely around his chest at all times, the seemingly nondescript object that seemed to house his ability. [i]‘But it isn't just the amulet,’[/i] Makarios thought as he got up, his eyes briefly resting on the fallen punching bag. His concern for it was minimal as he began to pack up his things. He was supposed to be at the Homecoming Dance regardless and he’d cleared his mind for the most part to join his classmates. [i]‘It’s something more. There’s some type of...draw, I have to move more. I want to release all of my emotion and charge in to a battle of sorts.’[/i] He made his way to the locker room of the mini-gym that was for school athletes near the back of the school. Changing, his mind continued to wander. He knew that the amulet wasn't something to blame for his feelings. He knew they were something born of his own mind, the amulet only seemed to act as a catalyst. The unnerving thing about the entire situation was how quickly Makarios was giving in to the amulet and his impulses. *** Dressed and ready to go, Makarios checked himself in the mirror of the locker room, mentally noting every imperfection and every passable flaw he saw in the mirror and making the executive decision that his current look of a gray vest and slack ensemble with a deep carmine pink tie and black button down would have to pass for now. Alyssa Edwards, his closest friend, had already sent him a slew of texts, bombarding his phone. He packed his bag and gym clothes away and made his way out of the door, giving himself a final once-over. The vague excitement that Makarios started feeling about the dance was suddenly dashed by his amulet. A pulse stemmed from his chest and flowed through his entire body. Something didn't feel right. Something in the air was off...something was too still. His amulet pulsed again and he felt his nostrils flare. But, this time, unlike so many others, something told him to let it wash over him. He imagined a wave of power enfolding him as he allowed himself to open up to the amulet. If his senses were right, something was happening. A chaotic amalgamation of scents bombarded his nose and Makarios reeled back from the volume of them all. But two in particular gave him pause. The smell of iron, so much of it...and a copper scent. “Blood,” he stated. It wasn’t a question, he recognized the smell and the smell of gunpowder. Something wasn’t right for sure. He stole down and creeped forward, getting closer until he neared the school gym. Trying his best to stifle a gasp, Makarios looked at the scene in front of him. Men with guns. All hooded and masked. All stoic as could be. What the hell was going on? Makarios turned on his heel and took off in the other direction. He felt the familiar sensation wash over him. In the midst of his fear and adrenaline he felt another emotion, one that disturbed him: Excitement. As if on cue of his identifying it, his amulet pulsed once more. Makarios placed his palm over the necklace as he made his way to the second floor of the school. If was lucky, these men, whoever they were, wouldn’t think to cover the lesser known entrance to gym. Makarios might be able to drop in on them and help the situation somewhat. But, before he could do that, a friendly call to the authorities couldn’t hurt. *** Hanging up his phone, Makarios stood on the second floor of the auditorium, he ducked down. Shit! One of the gunmen was stationed below him. Either they knew about the side-entrance to the gym or someone was wandering from his post. Regardless, Makarios had to do something. Placing his hand on his chest, he felt his accelerated heartbeat and delved into his mind and amulet. With a deep breath, and a prayer that he might not lose his sanity or kill himself, Makarios envisioned an animal. He brought forth the form, the power, the gait, sound, aura and even smell that he attributed to the animal, and felt it settle over his body, the heavy weight forcing him down slightly. He came up to the balcony, Horse in his mind and jumped up, sailing higher than any normal man could dream of, and came down behind the gunman below him. The jump, backed with the power of a horse, was strong enough to cause a deep thud. The man spun around, gun raised, his reaction time admirable. But Makarios was faster. He stomped down, backed with the power of Horse, on the man’s foot. A crack backed with a sickening crunch could be heard as the man attempted to cry out in pain, but Makarios shoved his hand over the mans mouth, acting on instinct. “If you scream again,” he began, trying to cover the quivering in his voice, “I’ll break the other foot, okay?” He released his hand slowly and the man, as expected, tried to bring up his gun but met Makarios’ foot, backed with the force of Horse. The kick was enough to send the mail sailing back an easy ten feet as he slammed into the stage, where he slumped down and moved no more. Releasing the Horse, Makarios sank down, catching his breath. Even just one animal seemed to take a plentiful amount of energy if he wasn’t prepared. Taking deep breaths, Makarios let his heartbeat even out before turning to the balcony and preparing to head in to the fray.