Asher Tybalt
Unknown
It had been years since the last man I removed from this world, not in silence and honor, but in fury and rage; at the sound of a falling hammer, I took what is not mine to claim. I remember it so clearly when I close my eyes... I can still feel every moment - see every moment - of it; the fear, the confusion, the suffering, just all of what it is I seem destined to bring. I just can't forget it. But... worst of all, it wasn't my last... I failed twice in another lapse of control; in that so condemningly distinct storm of vengeance I did again what I swore I wouldn't. I, the real me, wanted to stop but the sad part was that the real me... it just wanted to keep going.
And I did.
Asher Tybalt
Two Days Ago
With a dull thud a collapsed form created a human shaped heap on the ground, slicking the pavement in a dark crimson which rolled slowly from it and staining the earth. In the brightness of the growing moon as it peered over the valley's hills the scene became increasingly distinct - the light revealing more detail. The man, who now was without life, lay crumpled in the cooling air only faintly reaching for his throat. The motion, subtle as it was, was not easily ignored, and though it did him no good now, instinct had urged him to try even when life had already since truly escaped him and all he was left to grasp for was where the front of his neck had previously been; a gaping red maw now, his clothes were profusely stained from the assault. But he wasn't the only one here on the pavement - he was joined by his slayer who idly stood, looming well out of arm's reach.
In his golden eyes he absorbed the scene, taking in all of what had transpired and what it was that had happened; so many poor decisions had occurred blindingly fast. Perhaps stunned in thought he did not think to wipe the coagulating red from his hooked claws, or cleanse his now tainted fur of the spatter, but to merely look on in the moments after in total silence. The air, stilled now, had been earlier shattered by the unworldly cries and roars of a thing which shouldn't be, though it was here now before a man whose life fell away.
It all was so much a repetition of history; two men had lost their lives in such similar ways to the same thing.
Blinking, he at last exhaled and his bristling relaxed; padded fingers gently curling. With a soft curl, his jowls uttered a faint question, one growled and perhaps aimless for there were none to listen but he and the dead man.
"Why...?"
It came, so distinct yet so unnaturally, moving the soft air with its throatiness and power as the body followed its words in motion, approaching, slowly, the other former man. A large stained print formed beneath his toes as he crouched close to the man with a single limb guiding down to run through the red stained coat and fish free a firearm; in the palm, padded like the feet, the weapon was small and almost child-like. Ears pinning to his skull, he carefully held the weapon, examining it as the magazine fell free and of the fifteen it held, but seven remained. Shifting away, swallowing, the large bestial hand tossed the weapon aside having seated the magazine once more into it.
"Why?"
The inhuman voice asked again, looking away as he pondered what had become of the other seven bullets, knowing one had met his flesh but minutes earlier; the wound itself, lightly bloodied, was not painful now but it had been like fire earlier - the flames of which drove a man into a beast. Eyes returning to the dead man, he could not ignore the warm, sickly scent of human blood that choked the air; it was disturbing to taste it as he was, unable to breathe without doing so. Swallowing again, his sigh growled as he searched the pockets of the man further; no identification, no money, nothing, but he stopped as he found what had driven the man to error. A small strip of cloth, absent from its source, laid stuffed into the jacket the former man wore, and as the orange hands toyed with it, its scent offended and overwhelmed him with an air of potent chemicals. It was old, well worn, and bore the scent and signs of use.
Rubbing it between his digits, opting to use the hand which was not stained with the man's blood, he let it fall, thinking again as he slowly returned to towering over, he shook his head and looked away.
"Is this why?"
His huge knuckles began to crack as his fists tightened, feline jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in rising frustration.
"You did this twice to me to teach me some sort of lesson about myself? To show me that I kill people? To show that you damned me to be a killer?"
Snarling with the fur upon his striped back beginning to bristle, he snapped his attention back toward his parked car, the ways away it was before looking back; had he only been sooner or later, and another man wouldn't have had his life wrenched free in a single vicious blow. Turning his focus back, he seemed to slow and think more calmly about something, his rising anger slowing softly as time appeared to come to a standstill as thought moved faster than action. Looking down on the man, whose eyes had froze wide in terror and shock at the time of his death, the beast thought of something he remembered about both men he had met in this manner; they were nearly copies of each other in their scent, goal, and most of all... subtle presence of intangible evil.
Releasing his tense grasp, he sighed again.
"No... there's more to it."
Asher Tybalt
Today
In the light of the early morning as traffic continued to mount, Asher Tybalt went about trying to live out his life as he did most every day, driving his vehicle closer and closer yet toward the hub of commerce in Clear Springs. Hands as relaxed upon the steering wheel as he could manage, he had long since resolved himself to accepting the burden of commuting every morning, and given it was Monday, the fact that every individual within the entirety of the state had apparently forgotten how to drive over the weekend. Yet, what really kept his attention off of the sea of cars his mingled with, was what had transpired a few nights ago - a strange revelation that seemed to strike him. While he had washed the blood from his hands, it stained his conscious and did not seem to leave it for a moment.
Knowing he was to be early, too early, he merged further and further right until he exited off of a ramp. Steadily climbing in the silver two-door, he turned again and headed for one of the few safer areas in downtown - the coffee shop. Blinker clicking audibly, he shook his focus back into reality and away from... previous reality. Something seemed strange about this all, like he needed to head here today seeing as he had managed to leave earlier than normal, which was a feat all its own. Some fragment of instinct unknown pressed him to be here now, almost as if he was looking for someone, something, aside from his coffee.
Pulling the car into an open space, he glanced in the mirror to adjust his tie, somewhat paranoid at the odd turn of circumstances and the sense that he did not happen to be alone here; the others were waiting.
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