08-28-2018, 07:26 PM
With enough celerity to make a schooner envious, Stryker, the cheap chav himself, emerged from the umbrage, effortlessly clasping Wendell to the terrain below him. Not a pipsqueak, the wolverine’s size rivaled that of a medium-caliber canine; yet, the mustelid was nothing on the hulking feline, whose cudgel drove the skull of his victim unto a hard surface below. Already wincing in pain on account of his noggin’s impact, Stryker’s ill-boding utterances broke the silence of nighttime, something about how the Snowbounder should not have returned, along with stating that he was a powderpuff.
"I’d spit atcha, but I’ll spare my saliva", he’d retort impetuously towards Stryker’s ugly sneer, all the while pinned down in a heinous situation he would definitely not emerge from unwounded. ”Maybe I shouldn’tve, the chap continued sharply, but here’s m’ home, despite the bastards squatting in it right now.”
He ought to stop japing at his attacker if his head wanted to stay on right. However, the Brit wasn’t afraid of death in this situation. The takeover leader wouldn’t have much of a clan to take over if he decided to start offing people; that being said, Wendell was only one person, a person not very active in Snowbound’s affairs at that. If there was anyone most suitable for a good killing, it was him.
Brown peepers fixating on the assailant’s, a firm voice badgered ”Whatev’r you’re doing to me, do it. There’s better places for both of us right now.”
It wasn’t bravery that discharged those cheeky quips. It was fear. Not only fear for himself. Fear for Stryker. If something bad were to happen to Wendell, Stryker was to blame. In fact, Stryker was to blame for most of this. With all the blame resting upon those muscular shoulders, redemption for his faults would be ruthless.
Death was something he never wished upon anyone, regardless of how much they actually deserved it. Harmony was what life was based upon, and that’s how it should have stayed. Those that disrupt it get taken care of, which may very well happen to the antagonist in this situation. Not now, at least. In all actuality, it may be Wendell who gets taken care of presently.
"I’d spit atcha, but I’ll spare my saliva", he’d retort impetuously towards Stryker’s ugly sneer, all the while pinned down in a heinous situation he would definitely not emerge from unwounded. ”Maybe I shouldn’tve, the chap continued sharply, but here’s m’ home, despite the bastards squatting in it right now.”
He ought to stop japing at his attacker if his head wanted to stay on right. However, the Brit wasn’t afraid of death in this situation. The takeover leader wouldn’t have much of a clan to take over if he decided to start offing people; that being said, Wendell was only one person, a person not very active in Snowbound’s affairs at that. If there was anyone most suitable for a good killing, it was him.
Brown peepers fixating on the assailant’s, a firm voice badgered ”Whatev’r you’re doing to me, do it. There’s better places for both of us right now.”
It wasn’t bravery that discharged those cheeky quips. It was fear. Not only fear for himself. Fear for Stryker. If something bad were to happen to Wendell, Stryker was to blame. In fact, Stryker was to blame for most of this. With all the blame resting upon those muscular shoulders, redemption for his faults would be ruthless.
Death was something he never wished upon anyone, regardless of how much they actually deserved it. Harmony was what life was based upon, and that’s how it should have stayed. Those that disrupt it get taken care of, which may very well happen to the antagonist in this situation. Not now, at least. In all actuality, it may be Wendell who gets taken care of presently.