~~Eric~~
He stared, wide-eyed, and frozen. With Jessy behind him, sitting underneath his head, it was propped up enough he could see. His thoughts were clear enough to understand what was happening now, the wolf Beast in his guts beaten and stabbed into submission by the monstrosity now fighting Caleb. How quickly Michael had beaten him, rendered him nothing more than a bleeding welp. Embarrassing.
He wanted to think it was because he'd been fighting vampires and a werewolf before Michael intervened, but he knew better. The man's ungodly weight had crushed him, and whatever he'd been stabbing him with had done more than simply stab a few times. His insides were on fire. His insides were mulch. He'd been defeated in a battle of pure brawn, and quickly at that.
Elder vampires were a breed of their own.
Caleb leaped backward, off of Michael's back, and flipped once before landing on all fours. The abomination turned to face the werewolf, but Caleb vanished into the shadow around one of the buildings. Irraka and their damn sneaky maneuvers.
"How dare you," Michael said. Some of the mouths on his body whispered raspy noises, echoing his deep, rumbling, garbled voice. "Which wolf are you?"
The shadows responded, "Caleb." At least Caleb was still in his right mind. Names had lost all meaning, when the wolf took over Eric.
Christ, he'd nearly attacked Jessy when she tried to defy him by moving away from where he'd set her. Like, an angry animal, frustrated with his mate for defying him. No wonder Caleb wanted to test him and see if he was stable when he left the wolf take him over.
The elder growled. "You think the Invictus are just going to accept this?" It annoyed Eric how the eldritch monstrosity managed to articulate well, while Eric and Caleb struggled to speak English in their transformed state; sentences longer than five words were a nightmare.
"You attacked... kin... first." Wherever Caleb was, he wasn't letting his presence be felt or found, voice echoing about randomly. Nice of him to refer to Eric as kin. Either Eric had passed his test, or Caleb was being a nice guy for the hell of it, which seemed unlikely.
The winged freak snarled, and began to stomp over to Eric, each step compounded by how the one massive arm crashed into the street with ridiculous weight. Uratha were heavy enough the claws on their feet often dug into the surface they stood on, when they needed an anchor. Michael was crushing the asphalt with pure weight; he had to be heavier than an elephant. No wonder Eric's body cracked and crumbled when Michael had flown up, and landed on him. Oh god, the man had flown with all that weight? Those wings were insane. This monster's power was immense, and Eric could only stare and watch, lying on the ground, mangled body bleeding everywhere, and head lying in Jessy's lap.
And yet, Caleb was taking him on. The Irraka did a drive by, taking advantage of Michael's approach toward Eric, and bit at the monster's ankle. Uratha teeth ripped through the thickened, armored skin, and blood gushed everywhere, splattering over the black street as Michael roared. He turned around and slammed his enormous arm down, cracking the street and leaving an imprint in the asphalt, but missing the speedy Uratha.
"Your kin was rampaging," Michael said, again resuming his walk toward Eric. "Lost control."
"No," the shadow said, "not completely. Impressive. Respect him."
Michael laughed, and came in closer, looming over Eric and Jessy. He had a smirk on his fucked up, almost bat-like face; looked really fucked up with the massive teeth poking out, up, and down from his lips.
"He's young. I can forgive him some stupid decisions considering his circumstance. But know this, Eric Tanverson: I spare your life because you're useful to the Invictus."
Eric was very tempted to say 'fuck you', but even in his Gauru form, he was still a bleeding, broken mess. He could have been sandwiched in a car crash and be less beaten up than this behemoth had done to him in seconds. And the fucker who just beat his ass signed his checks.
Underestimating the enemy was never a good idea, and Caleb was making sure to not, judging by his guerrilla tactics. Probably learned from Eric's mistake.
"Boss," Jessy said, her hand stroking Eric's furry mane on his neck, "give the guy a break. We were fighting off a bunch of Carthians, and—"
Caleb leaped from shadows. Everyone froze, and Eric's lungs stopped working, as the werewolf, a blur of dark speed, bolted for Michael's exposed spine.
The sound of a loud crack forced Eric to start breathing again, and he gasped as Caleb flew in the other direction. Without a moment's hesitation, Michael turned around, and began walking after the werewolf, as Caleb rolled and crashed into a nearby wall, denting it, bits of concrete raining about. Something twisted and wormed left and right behind Michael, fast, snake-like. A fucking tail. Not a normal tail though, like you'd find on a reptile or mammal. No, the fucker had a giant scorpion tail sticking out from his tail bone, something he'd grown in the seconds between Caleb's attacks.
How the fuck.
By the time Caleb had regained enough awareness to prepare for any sort of movement, Michael was in front of him. He stabbed his tail over his shoulder at the beast's stomach, much like a scorpion would. Caleb howled, and slid up the wall as Michael lifted him, enormous tail slowly raising the wounded werewolf, poison stinger sunk into the man's stomach. Higher, and higher, until Caleb's long body was dangling, feet hanging a full six feet above the sidewalk, back pinned to the building wall.
"And you," Michael said. "The only reason I don't kill you, is because we strive for good relations with the Uratha. Avery's pack is useful, to a point. But fighting other Uratha in the streets, risking the Masquerade? A single mile closer to South Side and I would consider this a severe Masquerade violation."
Caleb, growling and twitching, tried to lift his arms; no such luck. Maybe Michael's stinger had some sort of poison. It'd have to be a ridiculously strong venom to work on a werewolf, but Eric doubted Caleb was so injured that his limbs weren't working from the impact alone.
"As for the rest of you!" As Michael gestured to the many watching Kindred, he whipped his tail to the side. Caleb went flying once again, landed on the street not far from Eric, and rolled over several times before coming to a halt against Eric's side. "Squabbles between covenants are on hold, until the hunters are found and exterminated. Do not think I do not realize you instigated this, Joe Turner. Tones will hear about this, and you will be punished. Madam Herrington, Eric Tanverson, and this beast here," he gestured to Caleb, "are at fault as well. They shall be reprimanded."
Sighing, the elder vampire shrugged out his arms, his wings, his tail, and everything began to fade away. The extra mouths on his skin began to spit back out the suit he'd been wearing, and it slowly enveloped his skin as he shrank. The giant mutant arm fell off, literally, as did the wings and tail; all turned to ash in seconds. A proper arm regrew where the giant one fell from, and the various bits of spikes, extra mouths, and hardened skin either faded or withdrew back into his body, before his suit pulled over it once again. It was like watching floating fabric drift outward from a body of flesh and blood, poke out over the surface, and cover grotesque, cancerous flesh beneath it.
And then there was only Michael MacDonald, tall, strong man in a suit, shaved head, and a single chain connecting nostril to ear. He growled at the watching Kindred, and they all visibly cowered. The aura of the elder was absurd, disgusting, a blood leech corpse letting his power rise to an overt display Eric had never expected. Jessy had said the man was over two centuries old in Kindred years, and in that amount of time, a vampire could gain and master absurd powers. He believed it now. An elder Gangrel was fucking freaky.
Eric and Caleb both began to return to their human form, threat gone. It was painful, and Eric doubted he'd be walking much, once he was back in human form. He was right. As his clothes reemerged, and his weight returned to normal, he looked up at Jessy, and tried to sit up. Holy shit pain, but not overwhelming. He managed, with a little bit of Jessy's help, and she smiled at him as she helped bring him to standing.
Joe came over to them, eying Michael closely with every step, before he reached down, and provided the same courtesy to Caleb. "Lucky Garry isn't here," he said under his breath at Jessy.
She rolled her eyes, and started walking, making sure to keep Eric's arm draped over her shoulders. "Fuck you, Joe."
