[Right][H3][color=92278f]D E A T H C R Y[/color][/h3][/right][hr][hr][right]Planet: [i]Who cares?[/i]
Location: [i]A Dive Bar[/i][/right]

Deathcry eyed the Thanagarian in the bar wearily. The Shi'ar had had some contact with the species as they were the biggest supplier of Nth metal, something her people used often. But that didn't mean they liked each other. The Thanagarians viewed themselves as the superior species. While much like the Shi'ar in nature and temperament they were not superior. Just because they had wings, a very sore spot for most Shi'ar for their wings had nearly been bred out of them, that did not make them better. The Shi'ar were more advanced technologically and they did not fear for their continued survival due to genetic sterilization. 

The Thanagarian shifted at the bar, his wings fluttered once then laid still. Deathcry resisted the impulse to sneer. Instead she took another long drag of her drink. She had no idea what it was. Nor did she care what it was. She only cared that it was strongly alcoholic and tasted like shit. 

An alien stopped at her table, their slitted eyes travelled the length of her body. Deathcry casually shifted until her sharp long blade was visible. The reptilian decided it would be best to move on. Deathcry resumed her casual watch of the Thanagarian. He was so cock sure, relaxed and carefree. And it was pissing her off. The feathers on her arms stirred as her agitation slowly was getting the better of her. 

As if sensing her hate Deathcry held for the alien he turned and meet her stare. He frowned as she took another mouthful of the terrible liquor. Then he shifted, an unconscious mockery of her earlier movement, until his mace was showing. Deathcry placed down her glass and smiled widely. She leaned back in the chair and casually raised an eyebrow.

The Thanagarian's face became a storm cloud and he stood. He wasn't a small thing. All muscle and bravado. He easily outclassed Deathcry in the former. But she had been training to be a commando since she could walk. Size meant nothing to her. With a fast twist of her arm her glass shoot off the table and into his face. It shattered upon impact, drenching him in the remnants of the awful concoction. The sight of it brought laughter to Deathcry's lips. 

"[color=92278f]That's a good look on you[/color]," Deathcry crowed. "[color=92278f]You should wear it more often.[/color]"

With an enraged battle cry the Thanagarian unslung his mace and charged across the remaining space between them. The pounding, thrumming music sung in Deathcry's viens. With a cry of victory she hooked a leg around the chair next to her and with a strong flex of her thigh sent it flying to the Thanagar's path. Despite the crowd he snapped snapped his wings open. With a powerful beat of his wings he lifted up into the air and over the offending chair. Deathcry barely had anytime to roll off her chair and out of the way of his swinging mace.

"[color=92278f]Best you can do?[/color]" Deathcry taunted as she rolled under the table and sprang to her feet on the other side. One of her wicked long blades was in her left hand. 

"[b]Shi'ar bitch[/b]." The Thanagarian snarled. He lifted his mace threateningly as he hovered feet above her. "What good are you without wings?"

Deathcry rolled her shoulders as rage threatened to consume her. Thanagarian always resorted to porting their wings over Shi'ar. Instead of lashing out she reached over to the table next to her and plucked one of the drinks off the table. She took a deep swig and forced herself not to get as the taste hit her younger. It was even worse then the swill she had been drinking earlier. The lack of the desired response shoved the larger male alien even further into a rage.

As she cocked her arm back to toss this drink in his face he dove forward with a bellow. She dropped the drink to the floor and raised her blade. The mace and blade collided with a terrible cry of metal. There was a heartbeat when the two held in place. Locked together. Brawny against brawny. Hate against hate. Rage against rage. Then Deathcry's blade slowly, slowly bent. She barely launched herself to the side as her blade gave way. He blade was trash. She had pried it from some dead alien's hand. It was no match for Shi'ar work.

The Thanagarian, overbalanced, tumbled through the air as there was no opposing force against him. Deathcry dropped the mangled remnant of her blade and leap upon the winged alien's back. With a triumphant cry she wrapped an arm around his throat and squeezed. She was vaguely aware of other cries and voices. But nothing mattered but the Thanagarian under her struggling to detach her.