My opponent looking for any way to hurt the wings guiding my fall stilling life within me to find a weak tendon in his anatomy. Already had a broken thumb from above when I'd fallen through on the dense clear water of cyan and blue. The rest of the hand no longer crunched and contorted helps me glide the metal locking me to the Feral discourse so similar. The heated plate of a hemisphere hitting the horizon. He manages to use my own inertia against me buckling my hip bone and flipping me as he twists my spine with the muscle tissue of my wings. I scream in excruciating pain as he rips both of my wings off. I catch my near mirrored image's hand, looping it around his three fingers and snapping each one. The sustained sonic noise flattened our senses of sound. We continue catapulting to the ground dragging him down to the next jolt of entering the next barrier towards the asphalt.
That pang of hitting the atmosphere our eardrums leaving the level of decibels with us both disoriented. His wings slow us down pumping as much gust as possible to keep us from slamming through the bones and our skulls becoming poor cliché, dousing the pavement. An occurrence where we would've defined the ground. He grits his teeth, spits out sulphur, and cackles out a cough of silicon oxide. Grinning he clicks his inlaid fried, singed, and seared teeth. Spitting out an intangible amount of heat off his prideful pry of mouth, kicking my skull back and then dropping with the back of his heel against my jaw. My neck slings back whipped to a cackling of constricted noise barely heard over the drape of air getting past the felled arch of my spine. My awareness of the crackling of each knot as the neck snaps in and pops.
A vain attempt made tenacious as I pierce his skin till I'm in front of his face by climbing up his body with my nails starting with Achilles’ heel up to his frightful eyes. Bashing repeatedly at the weak points of the cartilage of his wings. Using his momentum I kneel to my stomach to flip him over, ending up right where I want his neck to be taking the chunk out his neck while it gets twisted to a turn-point that can't be moved with my hands wrenching his muscles to constrain and contortion, staying the frame of his muscles but he's still moving ever so slightly out of forced pain. His limits of the constricted muscles and limbs. The blows dealt to the cartilage of his wings must've been too much for him, "Those horrible red eyes with sludge moving through them." His voice has me hesitate for a moment until he looks down. "They'll soon be yours, just as they are mine."
Taking this opportunity, I slam his neck with my left elbow. Rendering the cartilage in his neck incapable of slotting back into place as I dig my nails into what's left of the placement and dislodge the rest. He struggles sporadically trying to wrench his esophagus back into place. Barely able to breathe his lungs fight frantically as he becomes asthmatic for any gasp of breath. His frantic panic has him shifting his wings in insanity and at this speed of descent, it's hard to be anything but sporadic. With a fervent expel of force, he breaks my hold and takes a solid breath. His eyes pop into a livid bloodshot psychotic for the lust of blood at the smell of my fingers. Snapping is succession, and fire spouts off the obviously alarming amounts of coal mining being done to the city below. The grittiness of the coal piling up from the ill-refuse of hazardous grounds that stored more than just common the uses of heat for forgeries but an alarming amount of ashes for us to fall in. Aiming for where the rib cage splits I force my palm out to flex the knuckles just before the end of my fingertips only to be surprised when he bats them away and latches onto my upper body squeezing my lungs out while he's gaining what little he can of oxygen. "Your grasping for straws like your gasping for air." My mimic of mania I notice, his measures of breath, it's like his lungs aren't moving at all.
Barrelling down to the ground, bound to concrete. He lands, I don't. I'm incapacitated against the stickiness of scolding tar of those made alike to my maker. All I hear is him scoff and walk away from what he had hoped was an adversary worth waiting for. "I'll expect to see you soon." A man with red eyes walks cautiously up to me and hoses me down with red liquid. "I expect him broke by dusk." The young kid in a full-clad bio-hazard suit responds, "This will turn him into an invalid." He shakes his head out of order to Dev. He retorts saying disparagingly, "I want him fit by the end of the processing. Always remember your place." Rev looks at the mirror being held to his face and sees his blood-blistered popped eyes with the iris red on the outside, the pupil accumulating at the edges of my eyelids and coagulating at the corneas. Chaotically spreading the sludge of what was left knowing the notion this subordinate answered, "Devoid a soul." He moves his hand in a hypnotic movement sparking flint from his glove off shale and coil. Fixating my attention to what he wants me to see. "My name is Tangent and I have one task for you."
He snaps at the other's back as I scratch at the venom in my eyes with callous in his voice and says, "feed."
He laughs at the caught-off guardian of the globe as I launch for the menace with malice and all my intent to sink teeth into this with my own stained teeth and Tangent's stone-faced expression and grumble features and unenthusiastic expression for someone to of entrenched another for another. "Funny, how easy it is to pit you dogs against each other." I doubt a single grin has smiled at him.
Nails are burnt in swallowing whatever runs through our veins. Trusted to my eyes trapping the fuel within his blood. Wrapped in the black of my filled pupils.
"A fantasy to a kennel."