so far gone | hurting izuku

[Stryker]

[align=center][div style="width: 60%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; font-family: georgia;"]☣ — With heaving breaths, he continued to look off at the night. 'Don't lose your cool.' He did not think to listen to himself. Pitiful... As the dragon kept speaking, Stryker listened with his ears perked, eyes narrowed, and his lip beginning to curl back second by second. A growl began to reminisce in the back of his throat again as he listened, it's rumble growing louder with ever word that left Izuku's mouth. 'Don't lose it now.' But Izuku kept going... and going... and going with all those disgraceful words! He did something. He did the best he could. Yet, it seemed as if he was nothing to this damned clan he slaved over for so fucking long. After all this time, what more could he done? What more could they have done as a clan instead of turning a blind eye against the cruelty of the world?

"You're not better than us like you seem to think you are."

Stryker just felt himself snap.

With claws digging into the earth below him, the white lion slowly turned to face the dragon with green eyes glaring in a hazed rage. Venomous teeth shined in the dark, bared for the dragon to see. Every muscle in his body was tensed. He was holding himself back, but he oh-so wanted to give into beating this fucking prick to the ground... and oh lord, he would. There were no strings holding him back any longer. Praise the Pitt.

In contrast to his previous moves, Stryker jumped suddenly into the air with paws flinging outward in the direction of Izuku. As he dove, large paws would aim to bowl into the dragon's side. The white lion would attempt to pin him upon the ground, claws digging into his sides as he did so. If successful, the male would maneuver himself so one paw would step down on Izuku's throat to hold him down while his jaws parted. Moments after, his pair of large canines would wrap around the dragon's juglar and begin to inject venom within his veins that could cause paralysis, respiratory problems, nausea, and blurred vision, even death, depending on the victim. His green parted tongue would lick at the area softly, soaking up the blood. When and if the job was done, he'd pull away.

Enthralled, Stryker's lips pulled back into a stained smirk. The taste of the power of dominating others and showing them that they were wrong was the thrill he had awaiting all this time. With Snowbound out of the way, all he had to do was leave. Though... not yet. If he wanted that true experience, he'd wait for the showdown. In the meantime, Stryker liked to hope that his venom would paralyze his victim so he couldn't speak his perpetrator's name just yet. Watching his group scatter for the criminal would be an interesting sight to see, especially when he would be helping them do just that and possibly even pointing them in the wrong direction. The longer this could be dragged on... the better.

Things were about to get chaotic.