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[b]Feast and Famine[/b]

Remi struck like tragedy. Simple. Tragedy usually wasn't complex. It was a little thing; a clot that doesn't flow, brake pads that are just a little too worn, fear and a little bit of lead. Unexpectedly. A tragedy rarely heralds itself with pomp and circumstance. It comes over telephone wire and lettertype as easily as take-out orders and bank statements. With a force. Tragedy could hurt in a manner and with a depth that could break you in ways you didn't know possible.

Remi struck like tragedy. The beast never saw him coming. Maybe it was the way he smelled. The taste of him. He could not tell. His senses were filled with the essence of these xenomorphs. Much of him cloaked in their lifesblood. Perhaps it was merely distracted by the spirits he could taste coming off of Roy. It also couldn't have good peripheral vision given its ocular placement. Whatever the reason, the beast never saw him coming. He hit the Prime dead in it's flank, his shoulder driving into it's gelatinous mass. The force of his impact rippled across the flesh of the beast, resounding like a thunder crack. More importantly, it nearly overturned the beast. It reeled, leg spines scrabbling at the air as it experienced a rare change in balance. Remi dropped to the ground before it could right itself, rushing beneath the xeno. There was no part of Remiel's training that dictated or advised him on how to engage these types of Xeno in unarmed combat, so what followed, Remi had to make up himself.

Remi grabbed two of the leg spines as the beast righted itself. Twisting them torturously inward in a way that would break the bones, if this beast had anything resembling a skeleton that connected them. Driving the spine in and up he punched them into the relative softness of the beasts underbelly. Skewering it with its own weight on its own limbs. The beast undulated in pain, Remi could feel it's musculature writhing, trying to retract in on itself and escape the pain and hurt he was inflicting on it. Remi had no intention of giving it the chance. With a snarl he levered the bulk of the beast into the air. His arms burned, not from the strain of muscle, but from the pressure of the Spectators stampeding through his veins. They were panicked and mobbing. He fed the beasts pain into them. His own pain. All the rage of emotion that he drank from the air with such thirst. His arms extended upwards, and for an instant, the massive xeno was dead-lifted above Remi's head, writhing in pain and anger and confusion. Remi's fingers dug into the gouges he's bored, rending the creatures skin, ripping at the bleeding flesh within, more of the creatures ichor pouring over his straining shoulders and puddling beneath him. Remi's arms shuddered with effort, he hadn't strength enough to maintain his grip on the beast. He turned and hurled the xeno across the field, the leviathan tumbling over end crushing more of it's lesser brood under it's bulk, clothing it's surface as much as Remi in the blood of it's kind before crashing into another of it's kin with a wet smack. Remi's arms dropped limb before him, his back hunched with effort. His breath came fast and ragged. Remi slowly straightened, he brought his breathing under control.

He drew the back of his arm across his sweating brow, succeeding only in smearing more of the alien ichor over his forehead. He was suffused with the beasts' essence. He could feel it seeping into him, swirling into the hole at the bottom of his being. But even drowning in the xenos' spiritual flotsam, Remi could taste more in the air than the beasts. He could taste Aaron, his confidence to the point of arrogance, masking so much turmoil. He could taste Magdalena, the searing coals of pain in her that she tried to smother with purpose. He could taste Kim, his dicotomous, alchemical schizophrenia of a mind. He could taste Roy, his spirit fractured with lose and glued with fatalistic frenzy. He could taste Olivia, her desperation to stay aloft the chaos and mayhem. He could taste Emily, filled with a fire that forged her thoughts to glass. He could taste himself, a mouthful of the keenest spice of all. Hunger.

Just a taste. Not enough to know. Not enough to savor. He tasted words in his mouth. Words had had not heard but jogged in his throat. Remi turned to Royce.

"Roy my boy!" His arm flashing outwards, extending to the massed bodies of the xenomorphs, living or otherwise. "We have such a cornucopia of a feast prepared for us! You can't be full after just one bite!" Remi's breath shuddered again, he seemed to be breathing in more than he ever breathed out. His eyes seemed to suck in the light. He licked the blood off of his bottom lip. He looked feverish and the air seemed to have dropped a couple degrees.

Remi smiled in a way that looked like he was about to go for someone's throat.

[hider=Summary]Remi shoulder checks Beta Prime, dealing modest damage.
Remi stabs, lifts, and pulps the organs of Beta Prime, dealing mega super double plus damage.
Remi hurls Beta Prime into Omega Prime dealing minor damage to both.
Remi is getting a little too much of a taste for this sort of nonsense.[/hider]