The night air was biting against Tyrone's skin as he kept Tandy close. They walked through various alleyways as they tried to avoid being seen, their steps crunching through shards of glass and rubble-strewn streets.
Despite walking for so long, the duo strangely didn't feel tired, as if their bodies had been enhanced greatly.
All of their senses were enhanced, every sound felt sharper. National City at night wasn't quiet, it was never quiet. Somewhere far off, the pulse of bass-heavy music leaked from a club. A dog barked. Tires screeched.
They moved through another alleyway, not far from escaping the Gang area and arriving at Tyrone's house when they heard it, the laughter.
Tyrone's arm around Tandy tightened instinctively as he noticed three men step forward. Leather jackets, knives glinting under the streetlight, the stink of cheap liquor on their breath.
Their swagger was familiar—the same kind of swagger he'd seen his whole life in this part of the city. Predators who thought they owned the street. In fact, ever since his father and brother died, he'd grown exceptionally adept at noticing these kinds of people.
"Well, look what we got here," the tallest one drawled, his eyes crawling over Tandy. He grinned, his teeth yellow and broken, one of them being golden, "Ain't she pretty."
The other two chuckled darkly, one pulling a switchblade with a flick, the other licking his lips as his gaze lingered too long on her trembling frame.
Tandy instinctively pressed closer into Tyrone's side. He felt her shaking, and something inside him snapped.
That gnawing hunger, the same one that clawed at him back in the ruins, rose again, stronger this time. His pulse thundered, his fists clenched.
He had seen this before, too many times: gangs cornering the weak, the innocent. His family's blood was still on their hands, and here they were.
The tallest one stepped forward, jabbing a finger against Tyrone's chest. "Why don't you hand the girl over, huh? Walk away. Be smart."
For a moment, Tyrone stood still. His cracked glasses caught the glow of the streetlight, hiding his eyes. Then he smiled, but it wasn't kind smile, it was a slightly devilish one.
The thug frowned, "The hell you smilin' at, "
CRACK!
Tyrone's fist shot out, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch, blood beginning to seep out the man's nose as he collapsed to the ground.
The man couldn't even cry out before Tyrone was on him, swinging, slamming & hammering his fists down again and again. These fists that seemed to have a new explosive power slammed down venomously on the gang member.
The thug was knocked out, but Tyrone didn't stop, every punch, every hit that landed seemed to only fuel his vengeance, to satiate the anger he had felt for so long towards the gangs.
His knuckles split, blood mingling with the man's, each blow landing heavier, harder, until bone gave way beneath his hands.
Somewhere, faintly, he heard Tandy's gasp. Somewhere else, he heard the other two shouting. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was the violence, the release, the justice.
When Tyrone finally stopped, chest heaving, the man beneath him wasn't moving. His face was unrecognizable, broken beneath the weight of Tyrone's rage.
The other two stared, wide-eyed. Their laughter was gone, replaced by fear.
"Y-you crazy bastard!" one yelled, stepping forward with his knife.
That was when it happened. The shadows all around them swirled, twisting and turning unnaturally, like the way oil would bleed across water.
The breaths Tyrone took turned to black mist that traveled through the air, and then, with a sound like a hundred whispers overlapping, immense darkness surged upward, wrapping around Tyrone.
The darkness morphed and transformed into a vast long hooded cloak, blacker than the night itself, flowing as if it was alive. The cloak billowed even if there wasn't flowing wind
Tyrone didn't question it. He didn't resist as he recognized what the cloak was, he welcomed this power.
The two thugs froze, terror written plain on their faces.
"What the, what the hell is that?!" one shrieked.
Tyrone raised his hand. The cloak moved with him, stretching outward like a living shadow. It snapped forward, enveloping the knife-wielding thug in an instant. He screamed as the darkness swallowed him whole, his voice warping, echoing as if dragged into an endless pit.
And then, silence.
The last thug turned to run, but the cloak was faster. It billowed venomously, fully transporting into a living portal that dragged the thug back as he ran.
He clawed at the ground, eyes wide with terror, but the shadows surged over him, dragging him into the abyss. His screams faded into nothing, leaving only the faint hiss of the wind.
And then there was silence.
Tyrone stood in the street, chest heaving, his fists dripping blood. The cloak draped around him like a crown of darkness, pulsing with power.
He felt good, in fact, he felt better than he ever did before in his life. Like every punch, every scream, every ounce of fear he had inflicted was feeding something inside him. A hunger answered. A void finally filled.
He wanted more. He needed more. His gaze drifted down the alley, deeper into the city. There were always more gangs, more monsters hiding in the dark. He could hunt them. Cleanse them. End them.
"H...Hey…"
The voice broke through his haze. Soft and trembling, he immediately turned, spotting Tandy standing only a few feet away, her cheeks streaked with tears, her eyes wide, but not in disgust. In fear, yes, but also something else. Gratitude. Relief.
She stumbled toward him, her hand shaking as she reached for his arm. Her touch was gentle, glowing faintly with light.
"Thank you," she whispered through her tears. "Thank you… for protecting me."
Her fingers brushed his skin, and suddenly the hunger recoiled. The gnawing ache in his chest eased, replaced by warmth, by light. The violent haze cleared, and the cloak of shadows trembled, then slowly receded, curling back into him until it was gone.
He stood there, stunned, his fists still red, but he was quieter. Her touch had soothed him greatly. He still felt immensely vengeful, but now he was back in emotional control.
"I…" His voice broke, rough, but Tandy cut him off before he could speak.
Tandy shook her head fiercely, tears spilling over, "You saved me. You shouldn't feel guilty for that."
Her words cut through him and he nodded, letting her light soothe him.
"Come on," he whispered, his arm wrapping around her again, steadier this time, "We need to get off the streets."
Tandy leaned into him, still trembling, but she nodded. Together, they moved, leaving behind the blood and shadows on the pavement.
The city loomed ahead, vast and unwelcoming, but Tyrone's small house wasn't far from here thankfully. The walk back was silent.
Tandy kept glancing up at him, her hand brushing his every so often as if to reassure herself he was still there.
Tyrone didn't say a word. His jaw was tight, his mind still replaying the crunch of bone under his fists, the screams swallowed by the shadows. He could still feel it, the hunger clawing faintly inside, begging to be fed again, to kill those who wronged him in the past.
Finally, they turned the corner, and his house came into view. A small, weathered place with peeling paint and barred windows—nothing special, but it was his home.
Tyrone opened the door with careful hands, pushing it open for Tandy. She stepped inside hesitantly, clutching her arms around herself as if afraid of intruding.
Before either could speak, the sound of rapid claws on wood rang out.
SCRATCH! SCRATCH!
A blur of thick fur bounded into the hallway, tail wagging furiously. The medium-sized Alaskan Malamute skidded to a stop in front of them, ears perked, icy blue eyes bright with recognition.
"Artio," Tyrone breathed, dropping to one knee as the dog rushed him. She pressed her massive head against his chest, licking at his chin, whining softly as if sensing his wounds beneath the skin.
Tyrone wrapped his arms around her neck, burying his face in her fur for a moment longer than he intended. For the first time since the alley, his hands stopped shaking.
Tandy knelt nearby, tentative, but Artio turned toward her almost immediately, sniffing before giving her a wet, approving lick on the cheek.
Tandy let out a soft, startled laugh, the sound trembling but real. She brushed her tears away quickly, rubbing behind Artio's ear. "She's… beautiful."
"Yeah," Tyrone said, rising back to his feet, his voice quieter, steadier. "She's family."
For a long moment, the three of them just stood there in the small, dimly lit entryway, boy, girl, and dog. The shadows of the city still clawed outside, but in here, there was warmth. Safety.
Tyrone closed the door behind them, locking it tight and finally taking a deep breath. He was safe, at least as safe as he could possibly be at the current moment.
He glanced at Tandy, then at Artio, then back again.
The hunger still whispered faintly in the back of his mind, but for tonight, at least, he could ignore it.
"Come on," he said, gesturing toward the worn couch in the living room, "You can stay here tonight,"
Artio barked once, as if in agreement, before bounding toward the couch. Tandy followed more slowly, her eyes never leaving Tyrone's.