Episode: 7.16

--- Ozzy ---

(So, fucking hUnGRy…)

He shook his head, as he pushed away the thought that had been plaguing him with increasing tenacity for the last few days.

Ever since recognizing the fact that he had this… (hunger) he’d lost the ability to just ignore it. What’s more he’d discovered that using his Deadman powers made the hunger ten times worse, in so far as to send him into another frenzy.

(Honestly, I’m just lucky Trish wasn’t home when I frenzied…) He knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if she had been.

(Maybe I should think about leaving soon… It’d be safer for Trish if I did, especially since my HuNgeR…) He shook his head again. (Especially since that has been getting worse…)

Sighing, he pulled out the map Trish had given him and gave it a look. While it wasn’t entirely accurate due to the whole spatial distortion by the mists, she’d explained that the easiest way to get around was to focus more on ‘landmarks’ than actual ‘distance’.

(Alright, going off of this… I need to reach the library and the burger place will be just down the street.)

He froze, his mind blanking out.

His eyes darted to a nearby alley where he could smell something (DiVInE).

By the time he realized he was moving he’d already entered the alley.

(Wait…)

The scent was coming from the other side of the alley.

(What’s happening?)

He exited the alley to another empty street, before turning to a seemingly abandoned building.

(Why am I moving?)

The front door was boarded up, though that did little to stop him as he slammed into the door shoulder first. Once, twice, and on the third tackle the door gave in a shower of splinters making it all the easier to find the (divine) scent in the air.

(PrEy…)

(Wait… stop…)

He didn’t even bother looking around the room. Simply turning towards the stairs, he could smell the mouthwatering aroma coming from, and rushing up them in a maddening dash for its source.

(HuNgRy!)

(I said, stop!)

As he stepped onto the second floor, his eyes locked onto an open door down the hall, before his entire body began to rush towards it in a feral frenzy.

(DeVouR!)

(I SAID STOP! DAMN IT!!!)

He stumbled as his self-control finally snapped into place.

And while he’d managed to kill his frenzy, this did very little to kill his momentum, or prevent him from crashing into the door of the room he’d been running towards.

His shoulder wrenched as it collided with the doorframe, before the rest of his body was sent skidding across the floor and rebounding into the opposite wall.

(O-ow…) He groaned couldn’t help but groan from where he’d stopped. His whole-body aching, as he felt the (hUnGeR) still gnawing at the back of his mind.

“Damn it, that stings…” He rubbed at the back of his head, trying very hard to ignore the scent that had somehow sent him into a frenzy from two blocks away.

“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.” A voiced commented.

His entire body tensed, as his mind -already in a warped place from the mental war between his consciousness and his instincts- sent itself into fight or flight mode as a cold chill traveled down his spine.

“Ah, ah, ah.” The voice called, “I’m not here for a fight.”

“H-who are you?” He asked, in the moment it took him to force his body to its feet.

“The name ‘s Johnny.” The voice answered calmly, as a boy with dirty blonde hair and green eyes stepped into the light.

Still in fight or flight mode, his eyes roamed the older boy rapidly taking in every note and marking every detail of note such from the boy’s torn jeans and grey shirt to his faded and scuffed brown jacket.

(Clothes are faded, worn, and torn too… Probably been wearing them for a while.)

The odd chill in his spine grew stronger the closer the boy got to him, enough so as to force him to take a step back.

(What is that? He doesn’t have any visible weapons but, but there’s something… something isn’t natural about this guy…)

“Ah, don’t tell me you’re scared of lil’ ol’ me.” The older boy mocked placing a hand to his cheek.

“Who are you?” He repeated, wanting something other than the unnerving boy’s name.

The older boy watched him for a moment before grinning, “I already introduced myself remember? I’m Johnny, and you are?”

He grit his teeth together.

(Johnny, too common a name, and with no last name… likely a pseudonym. Didn’t mamon once say something about darker Arcane and names…?)

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “Just passing through”

He moved to pass the boy and head back towards the building entrance.

“Ah, ah,” The boy cut in front of him before he could even take two steps. “You wouldn’t have run into that doorway if you were just ‘passing through’ kid.”

A tense silence fell over them, and as the chill in his spine slowly grew worse, he just knew a fight was going to break out between them.

Noticing the look in his eyes, the elder boy raised his hands and shook his head. “Hey now I already told you I ain’t looking for a fight.”

He couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Then get out of my way.”

The boy watched him for another moment before shaking his head again. “Come on kid, our kind need to stick together.”

“And what exactly is ‘our kind’?” He asked feeling the cool warmth in his chest beginning to build.

The other boy gave him a look before smirking.

“Our kind,” the boy’s eyes flashed a ghastly green, “are the ones not even death could stop.”

He felt his own green eyes widen as he realized the boy in front of him, (he’s a Deadman too.)

The growing chill in his finally reached a breaking point as a mist of cold air burst from his mouth, before fading into a ghost f itself.

“Hmm, interesting…” the older Deadman commented with interest, “So, you’ve got a frost core already.”

“A frost core?” He repeated.

The older Deadman blinked, before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Out of curiosity, how long have you been dead?”

“Isn’t that a bit rude?” he glared, because while he may not know the social dynamics of Deadmen all that well, he was pretty sure their deaths were supposed to be no-go topics. (Or it is with me at least.)

“It is…” Johnny admitted, “unless you’re talking to someone whose been dead less than a month.”

“What makes you think I’m that new?” He asked, refusing to admit that he was.

“Most Deadmen figure out what a core is within a month.” Johnny explained, before his grin took a more predatory tone, “Or they end up someone else’s lunch.”

He swallowed something distinctly bitter as he suddenly remembered the (divine) scent in the air.

“Ha, knew it!” Johnny laughed, pointing both indexes at him, “You’re a newbie!”

He shook his head. “What makes you think that?”

“Your eyes keep flashing, meaning you don’t have any control over them yet.” The older Deadman explained.

Seeing how he couldn’t really argue that point he instead growled out, “So, what if I am?!” Already waiting for the signs of a fight, since the other Deadman all but admitted to wanting to make him lunch. (And just because I’m new doesn’t mean I’ll go down without a fight.)

“Whoa, there.” The other Deadman started, his hands raised in a placating gesture, “I’m not trying to start anything.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Like I said, our kind has got to stick together.” Johnny repeated, waving a hand through the air, “Look, you’re a newbie, there are rules about this kind of thing.”

He gave the other Deadman a look.

(I mean his stance isn’t aggressive, but…)

Eventually he broke down and ran a hand down his face before giving a resigned sigh.

(Who am I kidding? I’ve got no idea what I’m doing… If there are rules, I need to learn them.)

“What kind of rules?” He finally asked, figuring if the more experience Deviant wanted to fight, he would’ve struck already.

“Well for starters the reason I’m bringing this up is that the first rule says no attacking sentient Deadman who are less than four months old.” The other Deadman shrugged, before giving him a serious look. “Though if you pick the fight that kind of goes out the window.”

“And how do you know when they’re that young?” he tried, as he took the hint and forced himself out of a fighting stance.

The older boy gave him an infuriating grin, “Trust me, after the first year, it gets pretty obvious how old a Deadman is.”

He couldn’t argue that, especially since he’d never really met a Deadman before-

(Glowing red eyes… Skin like shadows… Claws of bone…)

He shook his head, before letting out a shaky breath.

“And the other rules?” he asked the other Deadman, to try and ground himself.

“Well, that varies a little place to place,” Johnny admitted with a shrug, “but most places agree to a basic few rules: don’t hurt kids, don’t draw too much attention, and respect someone’s death. You know, don’t be a dick basically.”

(Yeah, I remember Mamon telling me most Deviants have rules like that… The Deadmen specific ones must all revolve around dying, and death or something.)

If the boy was to be believed -(and that’s a big if)- then as long as he didn’t start anything, there’d be no trouble.

Still with the threat of an immediate fight gone, and his (weird) instinctive tension beginning to let up.

“Well, if you aren’t here to cause any trouble… then why are you here?” He asked, forcing himself not to look at the room where that (divine) scent was coming from, a sense of dread filling him at the possibilities.

(Come on now, it’s not like you have any place to judge…)

He just barely shook that dark thought away.

“Ah, that.” Johnny blinked before looking between the room and him. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What does?” He frowned.

“Right, so up until now I haven’t noticed any other Deadmen in town, and plasm around here was low enough, that when I picked up a spike moving around, I realized it was probably a feral stirring up trouble.” The elder Deadman explained.

“I understood a third of that.” He admitted bluntly.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Look it’d just be easier just to show you.”

The older Deadman waved for him to follow into the room where the (DivInE) scent was coming from.

He glanced back towards the building entrance, as he gnawed on his lip.

(If I want to run, I’m not getting a better chance than this… But at the same time, this might be my only chance to safely ask another Deadman any questions.)

All it meant was that he’d have to ignore the fact that Johnny had done… (something) to whatever was making that (DeLicIouS) scent.

And who knows (maybe he’ll share.)

Repressing that thought with all of his willpower, he followed the older Deadman into the room.