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[@Crimmy] [@Avant] [@Krayzikk][/center]

Brennan skidded to his halt, the resultant screeching of shoes and black scuff marks on pavement only further loosening the bonds that tied the humans of the 21st century to their primal, knuckle-dragging ancestors. By now Brennan Griese, he of the black-and-gold hair and bloodied dress shirt, bore more in common with the violent Aurignacian culture of evolutions gone by than he did with the assumed human that he was chasing after. Were he in any fit shape to rationalize his anger at the figure whose violent mugging he lusted for so hungrily, he would no doubt have found it in him to laugh at the vast well of Cro-Magnon-esque rage that had welled up inside him. After all, it was he who had counseled Umeko to be patient, not let a little corpse get to her, leave things to the authorities. But that was before Umeko had fallen into the sinkhole; that was before he had started the chase. The thrill of the hunt was upon him now. 

The scent of blood was stuck in his nostrils.

Perhaps it was more apt to call Brennan Griese a Neanderthal than a Cro-Magnon, for Neanderthals were a capable, hardy race, possessed of knowledge that the more primitive, angrier ancestor to humanity lacked. A Neanderthal might have been capable of dressing itself in the bloodstained Gucci that Brennan was sporting this evening; a Neanderthal had the hunting methodology and survival instinct that a Cro-Magnon may have lacked. In fact, humankind as defined today was actually evolved through the interbreeding of Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons - interbreeding which, in fact, was founded upon a mix of respect for the Cro-Magnon's violent natures and pity for their lack of comprehension in more social matters.

The same interbreeding was in fact taking place tonight in Academy City, between the [i]Homo sapiens[/i] Brennan Griese and the doomed subspecies [i]Homo sapiens otaku.[/i]

Or, interbreeding [i]would[/i] have taken place, if they hadn't stumbled upon the goddamned corpse.

The hunt was all that separated Brennan from his apartment. The hunt had to end - in victory. He had to feel his teeth in the other esper's neck, and [i]soon.[/i] Luckily, he was more Neanderthal than Cro-Magnon, and knew how to hunt with tools. 

Having noted that the specks of blood and pus spraying from the mangled corpse were forming a trail, Brennan Griese was able to note that the trail had suddenly branched off the main sidewalk and out of the lights of District 15. They were in an alley, which made Brennan's bloody grin expand a notch. Alleys were the perfect places for a good beatdown, as any County Antrim boy worth his bloody knuckles knew all too well. He also knew that there were plenty of places in an alleyway to stop cold in your tracks, press against a wall, and let a lad outrun you before heading back to the main road. He needed visibility.

Luckily, in the 21st century, any fucking knob with a good phone in his pocket could lend you that. On top of that, Brennan knew enough of cities to know what was on the side of many a building that comprised an alleyway.

The labyrinthine pipes that supplied those buildings. Such vulnerable little faucets that stretched on for a block. Vulnerable little faucets with all that water...and all that pressure. 

Brennan weighed using his hand, but that would smart even for him. A kick would be a safer bet, but...

[color=0054a6][i]Ah, fuggit.[/i]

[i]Deez shoes are already well 'n' fooked.[/i][/color]

Brennan Griese stood in front of the nearest faucet, his body stripped of fear by the thrill of adrenaline, and sang the first faucet in the alley some sweet chin music. Two related, and equally fortuitous, events occurred within a second of each other.

First; the water in the open pipes was pressurized beyond what the pipes were meant to handle, and as it traveled down the line of buildings, the pipe system began to pop off faucet after faucet, spraying the alleyway with highly pressurized water. 

Second; Brennan Griese himself, standing at ground zero of the hosing down from hell, took not just the blast of water head on, but also the force of the faucet itself popping into his diaphragm at an unhealthy range of psis of force. He absorbed the force as fuel without complaint, even though the affected spot would probably smart in the morning with Umeko's snoring, drooling head balanced atop it. 

If the force of the water that now sprayed through the alley in half a dozen makeshift geysers hadn't knocked the other Esper off his feet, the water would no doubt leave an outline that could be picked up again. And for that, Brennan Griese had just the thing.

Aforementioned good phone in his pocket, the glass on the back of the phone's surface cracked from pressure but nonetheless still containing a lens capable of flashlight mode.

With a beam of light now emanating from the device in his shirt pocket, Brennan Griese began to sprint through the water, down the alley, in the direction of his prey.