[center] [img=http://i383.photobucket.com/albums/oo276/metalsonic2nd/Duela_zps27e276c4.jpg?t=1392323979] [/center] The baseball bat slammed into Duela’s gut with unrelenting force, smashing into her stomach and knocking the wind out of her, sending her sprawling back across the uncostly carpet that dominated most of the apartment’s floor. She fought vigorously for breath, sucking helplessly at the air as she crashed into the ground with a distinct ‘THUD’. Her chest was searing with pain, and she could have sworn she could feel her ribs cracking underneath her tightly drawn skin. A well-aimed kicked hit her directly in the mouth, strands of deep crimson fluid seeping down her now split lower lip. Her ears were screeching vociferously, and as she sluggishly staggered to her feet she felt every fibre of her being roaring with a burning agony unlike anything she’d ever encountered before. Duela coughed up a mouthful of clotted blood, droplets of the scarlet substance flecking her open palm. Failing to stand, the young teenager simply fell to all fours, a stream of dark red dripping forth from her mouth and landing in splatters on the musky carpet. “I d-don’t h-have any money…” She just about managed in-between fits of rasping coughs. A dominant fist clenched tightly around the front of her t-shirt, wrenching her up off of the ground with worrying ease. The figure that was dangling her in front of him was thuggish in appearance; possessing a square jaw, broken nose, broad shoulders and shaven head. He stood a fair few feet above her, and a darkly inked swastika stained the base of his thick neck. “Keep slipping up on your rent, and we’re going to be having more little incidents like this, miss.” He stated in a dreary matter-of-fact tone. Dull eyes gazed at her with the thing furthers removed from sympathy evident in them. She’d be dammed if she was going to let others dictate her own fate for her. ‘Better to die standing, then to live on your knees’. Her long fingers shot forwards with a sudden burst of feline grace, grim-stained nails that had long been un-cut digging into the white of her attackers eyes. Her let out an abrupt scream, losing his grip on her long enough for Duela to slam her feet into his muscular stomach, partially to knock him off of balance, and partially to provide her with enough force to propel the young teenager backwards and free her from his clutches. Duela’s attacker came crashing down to the ground, hands grasping desperately at his wounded eyes. Seeing her opportunity, Duela rushed towards him whilst he was still dazed, flinging herself into him with enough force to keep him pinned to the ground. Acting on impulse, she bore down on him with her jaws, knife-like teeth tearing away a sizeable chunk of his neck, his blood mixing with her own as pools of hot body fluid flooded her mouth. Pieces of broken apart flesh trickled down his collar, caught in the insistent flow of enflamed liquid that was being pumped out of the new hole in his neck. He screamed in mixture of sheer horror and disturbing revulsion, frantically clutching at his newest wound. Duela searched frantically for a weapon, her near-skeletal hands gripping tightly around the hilt of the baseball bat that her attacker had been relentlessly beating her with, a warm rushing flooding through every ounce of her body as her fingers coiled around the sturdy wood. Conjuring inhuman strength, Duela sent the bat veering into the neo-Nazi debt collector’s face with such force that a constant ‘CRACK’ rang throughout the room for several moments after her weapon had connected with his jawbone. His neck snapped loudly, and bent round at an irregular angle, indicating that she wouldn’t be getting any trouble out of him anytime soon. “This gig ain’t working out for me…” She muttered to herself, limping towards the apartments forced open door, baseball bat slung back over one shoulder. A soft purr, followed by the rustling of papers, soon alerted Duela to the movements of something at the far end of the room. Emerging from under a pile of scrawled up magazines, a black cat with coarse fur and a face as warped and twisted as its owners came scampering over to Duela. “Come on Ugly Cat…” Duela cooed in a matron-like manner. “Time to go find a new home.”