He doesn't look out of place, not really. People in this part of the city didn't really have a look. So long as whatever look you adopted didn't scream anything other than "lower class" you'd be alright. You might get attacked once or twice, but that shouldn't be a problem.

So far Montrez hasn't come into contact with any such would-be thugs. Maybe he just doesn't look well off enough to be worth anyone's time. He's just on the edge of the district. It looks like there has been a recent attempt to clean it up, but it most likely failed. The half-renovated building he walks past has a demolition notice on it. Must be cheaper to knock it down and build a new one than to fic this one.

Long brown dreadlocks hang in front of his face, partially obstructing the vision in his equally dark brown eyes. They look around the area, alert for possible dangers. His skin, though, is not as brown as his hair or eyes. It's dark, yes, but neither white nor black. Not tanned, just a shade that's uniquely all his own. He's wearing boots, boots that have to work for a living. Once upon a time the steel-toed shoes might have been black, but now they're dirt scuffed and thoroughly worn. His pants are dark green camoflague, only worn for the durable canvas. They fit him nicely, though, a good length and not too baggy. Farther up and we see his broad shoulders, obviously used to picking up heavy loads. A black wife-beater stretches over his chest and we can tell that that, too, is strong. The man has some pudge on his stomach, but it's not grossly fat, possibly huggably squishy. There's a hankerchief around his neck, a dark color that's normally associated with being wet. That's true, he uses it during the day to keep cool.

He'd been forced to go home, back to the city. A great worker, yes, but he can get slightly obsessed. At times, Montrez has been known to stay at the farm for a week straight.

There's a broken street lamp up ahead. Montrez stays alert, though it's still just dusk. People can attack anytime they want to. The light is beginning to be obscured by the buildings, the setting sun casting long shadows that make it easy to hide.

There is Fear in the city. Literally. A boy that goes by that name. He’s on the prowl tonight without his sister. They were usually always together but every so often they did need time apart from the other. Tonight he is wearing pressed black pants and a dark blue button up shirt. Yes. He may go by the name ‘Fear’ but he doesn’t look like the type to fit that sort of profile. No indeed. He actually looks like a well respected healthy male.

There. Just ahead. Someone walking alone. He picks up his pace just a tad to close the distance between them a little quicker. He’s walking towards the guy from the front actually. Oh joy. Watch this. Fear ‘accidentally’ bumps into the guy. “Gah. I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

"It's fine."

Yes, a man of few words, indeed. He says it's fine, sure, but he's suspicious. Why bump into him? There's enough room on the sidewalk to fit three people (granted, three small people) side to side. It's possible that the boy misjudged the distance, but most likely not. Montrez keeps walking, keeping a lot of his attention on the other pedestrian, but says nothing more. If you haven't figured it out by now, he's a rather passive fellow.

Perfect. In just that brief span of time, Fear had already gotten an idea of the guy. He cuts through one of the lots and is following the guy without getting so close yet that the guy would realize he was being followed. Fear was scooping out for the perfect spot to begin his plan.

Of course, even passive has its limits.

When Fear passes out of his vision, Montrez stops worrying about him and instead focuses on the other potential threats in the area. Dark alleys that are spaced every few buildings or so make being completely aware of your surroundings a little difficult, but Montrez is doing his best.

Excellent. This works out dandy. He’s going to just bide his time for a little longer. A few more blocks. Further away from prying eyes. It won't be long now. Won't be long at all.

Why exactly is Montrez in this part of town? Don't ask me, folks, it's not like he tells me these things.

At the next street he decides to take a turn, his place is in that vague direction and he's contemplating going home. He's not tired and it isn't a great apartment so going home probably won't win out. Even so, he keeps walking.

Perfect! Now’s the time to act. There’s no one around. Fear halts his forward movement to focus on a spot that the guy is walking towards. Vines slink out of the darkness and wrap around one of the guys ankles.

Dreadlocks fly into the air while he goes down. Montrez's hands take a majority of the jolt but his chin hits the concrete anyway. There's a slight scrape, but it isn't bleeding. He looks behind him to see just why he fell and is confused. He hadn't seen that there..was it wrapped around his ankle before or after the fall? Whatever happened, Montrez is perplexed.

The vines seem to be slinking back into the shadows. However, they’re still wrapped around his ankle. Oh sure. He can try to get them off but they’re not going to budge. The speed upon which the vines are pulling him towards the shadows is actually really quite slow. Fear isn’t yet ready to show himself. Not yet. Not until he’s got the guy exactly where he wants him to be.

Not good. Not good! Not good!

Montrez pulls himself out of the brief panic fast enough to pry at the vines before he goes competely into the shadow. It isn't working, not yet, anyway, but he keeps trying. While his hands work at the strong plant, his mind is racing along it, tracing back to whatever sent it. Along the way his mind tries to weaken it, hacking away at it every so often. When he gets to the source he pushes violently, bruisingly.

Another vine comes slinking out of no where and wraps around his other ankle. This one is thicker than the one on his other ankle. He’s so close to the shadows. So very close.

He digs his already dirty fingernails into it, scraping into it. Getting nearer... He abandons his attempt at disentangling from the vine in favor of grabbing the side of the neares building and using his strong arms to pull himself away. He picks up a trashcan and hurls it into the darkness with his mind, not caring whether or not he was giving himself away.

A vine seemed to come out of the brick wall and caught the trash can. What a good vine. Fear doesn’t make his appearance from within the shadows. Nope. He’s standing right behind the guy. “G’day.”

A brick wall?! That thing grew out of a brick wall?! What the hell was going on?

The voice behind him, coming out of nowhere, startles Montrez into letting go of the wall. The momentum sends him into the darkness, sprawled out as he tries to get a look at the face that he knew was there.

Fear steps out of the shadows enough for the light to show his face. “Remember me?” More vines creep out of the shadows and grab ahold of his wrists.

Montrez forms a barrier between his wrists and the vines, allowing them to wrap around but not to squeeze. It doesn't appear visibly, and it's close enough to his actual wrists that it looks like the vines are doing their job.

He still doesn't speak, only glares as if that alone would kill the attacker. Of course he remembers him. The stare, if at all possible, just got a little more sinister.

He just laughs. “You got a name? It’ll be in your best interest to say it. I like to know the names of my toys from the start.”

Who even responds to something like that? Well, I worded that wrong. Who actually answers something like that? With their name? That's probably not even what he wants.

"Jason." The first name that popped into his head besides his own.

Didn't matter if it was the guys real name or not. "So Jason, do you always go walking around places like this when there's people like me out and about?"

Yes. And he normally kicked their butts, too. But none of them had frickin' vines to attack with.

Montrez's arms struggle against the vines (or so it seems) and his mind starts hacking away at the thicker on around his foot while he punched Fear in the stomach with an invisible fist. My goodness this man can multitask.

He doesn’t flinch much from the invisible fist to the stomach. He’s got a rock hard stomach from working out. He laughs. “Now, now. I’ve not done nothing to you except had my friends slow you down. Is that really any reason to go trying something like what you’ve done?”

More vines come up out of the ground all over the place around the guy and begin wrapping themselves around him. There’s too many to even count at this point.

"Yes."

The hacking at the vine stops. He devotes all of his will to the shield, which now covers his entire body. Guess there were people like him out there. Maybe. It doesn't matter, he knows, so it's just a fleeting thought.

More vines come up out of the ground and wrap around the guy on the ground. Fear doesn't believe for a minute that the name given to him was the guys real name. "That's not very nice, you know," he says as he silent commands the vines to begin squeezing.

Believe it or not, sweat is beginning to break out on his forehead. It's in other places, too, but those can't be seen through the foliage. It's a difficult thing to do, keep his shield up with that pressure at all sides.

"...neither..are you,"

His head's starting to hurt, like the pressure in his ears is getting to the bursting point.

"I never claimed to be nice," he said with a eery laugh and continued commanding the vines to tighten around the guy.

Montrez lets a cry escape his mouth, the vines that coil around him are almost too much for him to keep in control. A few holes have appeared in his defence and he's bruising.

Our telepath is getting pissed off, a rare sight, indeed. If this guy can do these things to him, then he has every right to do each and everyone of them back. It'll take so much out of him, but at the moment he doesn't care. Another branch of his mind pulls something tight across Fear's throat, towards the top where it's easiest to choke. Not only does it choke, but it cuts off blood supply. It can't leave his head, so the pressure builds. It can't get new oxygen to it so his mind should begin shutting down.

Oh yeah. A cry from the guy. Now we're getting somewhere. This is what Fear enjoys. To hear his toys crying.

Oh shit. What's this? Oh joy. His toy has powers of his own. We can do this. Fear is feeling a bit on the light headed side but it's not enough to shut off his control over the vines. Not sure for how long though. We'll see.

One very thick vine seems to uncoil partly from around the guy. Hold up there. Don't go getting all happy. It's being told to do something else. The guy isn't out of trouble just yet. The vine starts to slink into the guys pants. It starts to squeeze, poke and probe at places you really don't want a vine to be doing so.

Well that sucks for Fear because instead of releasing his hold, it gets dramatically tighter. He lets down the shield but only in favor of reciprocating the uncomfortable prodding and poking with some of his own.

Oh! Hey! Now we’re talkin. At least that’s what Fear’s mind is suddenly saying at being magically poked and probed. Somehow, through all of this, he walks closer to where the guy is being held by Fear’s green pets. Mkay, so the hold around the throat is tight and such but he’s not giving up. He’s not releasing his commands to his vines. Not yet anyway.

He kneels down next to the guy. “Like that, do ya?” he asks in a hoarse husky voice. “So do I...” His vine continues it’s poking and probing and squeezing. However, it doesn’t seem to be doing it near as rough as when he’d first started. Just as the vines squeezing the guy don’t seem to be near as tight as they were. They’re still tight enough to hold him in place though.

Oh, low blow. Really low blow. You see, Montrez doesn't get excited by the look or thought of any person or gender, it takes touch and feel to get him up. And he hasn't had any in a long time. But while he's responding (and I do mean responding) he's continually tightening his grip on the other's neck, hating him for doing such things to him.

Montrez isn’t the only one who hasn’t had any in a long time. It’s kind of hard to get fucked (literally) when you’re always with your twin sister. Yes. There is a drawback to being with your twin all the time. We’re obviously talking about Fear getting a piece of ass at least every so often.

Anyway, his head is starting to swoon both from being magically choked and from being magically poked and probed in ways that he likes it. He moves closer to the guy on the ground and starts rubbing a hand over the guy. The vines around the guys hips and such seem to part and move to different places on him still holding him down.

“Hmmm... It looks like... you are... liking it...” he says in a gasping whisper. His hand goes from the front of the guys pants and undoes them. The vine is replaced by Fear’s hand. No longer is the vine touching, squeezing and poking at the guy. Fear is.

"Get the fuck off of me!"

By now he's realized the connection to what he'd been doing and what the effect on the both of them is. He stops the attention to that area and goes for this guys eye. Just one of them, though. His mind forms a sharp point and rams it at Fear's face. He doesn't care if he gets splattered with anything, just wants him to stop.

Oh shit. Can we say ‘ow’? Actually, that’s probably putting it mildly. His fucking eye is poked out! Eyeball shit is pouring out! He obviously stops touching the guy and, for a very brief moment, the vines loosen. It doesn’t last long though.

“You fuckin’ bastard!” one pissed off Fear screams at the guy as the vines go back to tightening. A vine comes up out of the ground between the guys legs and suddenly rams into a place where you really don’t want that to be happening.

"Ow, fuck!"

That sharpened point of his mind rams for somewhere else. He's still strangling Fear, and the parts of his mind controlling separate elements mould into one. The strangle hold becomes impossibly sharp and cuts deeply into the neck. It severed the spinal chord and both corrotid arteries. Hell, there's an inch deep slice all the way around his neck. No way is he getting out of this alive.

The vines entirely fall away from the guy on the ground suddenly. They appear to wither up and die right there. Why you ask? Isn't that a silly question really. Did you not see what was just done to him? If you didn't then I think you need glasses or something. What's just happened to Fear, there is absolutely no way out of it for him. His body falls backwards on the ground. Unmoving.

His eyes are closed to guard themselves from what he knew would spurt from the attacker's eyes. That's where he thought he was aiming for. I'm sorry, Montrez. You don't yet know you just killed a man. He breathes in deeply when the vines loosen, his lungs were constricted. But there's too much blood in the scent to just have come from Fear's eyes.. Whatever happened, Montrez knows that eventually he'll have to open his eyes and see where the attacker has gone. Eyes slit open, throat catches breath. He's lying not two feet away from Montrez.

A jolt goes through his body as he begins to realize just what happened. The boy's not moving. He's not breathing. The vines are withered and brown--dead.

No!

He begins to hyperventilate. There's so much blood, Holy Neptune, so much..He's covered in it! It's all over Montrez's clothes. It sticks to his shirt, his pants, his hair, everything. It's covering his face! His boots, his boots are dripping with it. It's starting to cake onto him, clotting, getting into his skin, his hair, his pores, his mouth, the scent of it not leaving his nose..

A scream of anguish.

He's backing away, like that will make everything un-happen. His hands crunch on some of the bereft vines and he jerks his palms away as if burned. He's so dirty, there's somebody's life on him! Someone's life!

Tears well up in his eyes. They sting with the spilt blood and salt tears as he hastilly takes off his boots, shaking the sticky red liquid from them. He runs home barefoot. It doesn't matter if his feet hurt, what if he leaves a trail of blood with his boots? Of course, flecks of blood fly from the end of his hair but not for long. He's not even out of the alley before they stop.

Once back in his apartment, Montrez heads for the bathroom and strips down, turning the water to a blistering hot temperature. Just get it off, get it off and things will be ok. He doesn't feel clean, but after a half an hour the water runs cold. He steps out of the shower and slips on something on the floor. Oh god his clothes, his clothes are so bloody! What is he going to do? It's all over the tile, the clothes are ruined, he might be able to salvage the boots. Montrez dresses slowly, in a daze. He puts the clothes in a plastic bag and quietly heads outside, terrified that someone is going to come out of the shadows and find out what he's done. But it was in self defense! It doesn't matter, there's blood on his hands no matter.

Take a metal trash bin, some gasoline and a match out to where the homeless people live and put the bag in. Light it afire. It stinks so horribly, but it'll be gone by day time.

Back at the complex where he lives, he crawls into bed, curls into himself and stares off into the distance.

Senses brought her to the alley way that the terrible event occurred. Eyes locked onto her brother’s bloody form and they grew wide and went into a state of shock for a moment. Getting her legs to function made her run over to him and see what had happened. His neck had been mutilated in a sense with the inch cut around it, his eyes poked out and a bloody hole. What the hell happened!?

”No. No, no, no.” She kneeled down beside him and gently caressed his hair. Another hand rested on his chest. He was definitely dead and something happened that probably never happened before; she started crying.

”Please. You can’t leave me.” She cried out in whispers as she leaned over him and held him up in her arms, hugging him. Her white skirt was completely soaked with his blood as well as her shirt. Face was becoming covered with blood and hands as well as legs.

Finally letting him go, she gently let him rest upon the ground once more. Her hand was still resting on his forehead as she looked down at him, tears falling on his lifeless form. They finally lifted from looking at him to down the alley way. Tear filled eyes had a sudden pure and violent hatred in them for whoever did this to her. And perhaps it didn’t even have to be the one that did this but anyone she came across. The bastards would pay for what they did.

”I will find who did this to you brother, and kill them mercilessly.” She vowed to her brother as she kissed him on the cheek, took his knife and stood up. ”Good bye dear brother.” And with that she set off down the street with her brother’s knife in hand, covered in blood from head to toe.

Walking down the street a gentleman saw her and completely freaked out.

”Are you okay miss? Do you need a doctor?” He asked politely and quite frantic. Hateful eyes locked on to him and without a hesitation lifted the knife and plunged it into the guys stomach with a ferocity not seen before by the girl. Playtime was over. The world was going to suffer what happened.

The man went into shock. Sabia shoved the knife upwards while it was still in the man, slicing every major organ in it’s wake. Blood was oozing from the man’s opened stomach and she shoved him to the ground.

”All your bastards are going to pay!” And with that she slammed the knife down in him again, but this time in the heart. She watched him die and then left him there to be found.

--

Back at their apartment she dropped the knife carelessly on the floor and collapsed to her knees in the living room where she started crying again.