The Hunter and His Prey (Michael Banesblade and Brandon Hale)

Chicago, the Windy City, a hub of criminal activity, despite the best efforts of the law enforcement. But tonight, it wasn't the criminals that prowled through the dark streets, for creatures far more dangerous crawled through the dark. Beneath the cramped streets and alleyways, in the underground tunnels of the city, lived a putrid creature of death and pestilence. With the appearance of a rotten corpse, it needed to keep itself out of sight from the people on the surface. It shambled through the dark corridors, occasionally stumbling onto the ground. The pain was too great, it could feel it's body rotting while it rebuilt itself, keeping it in this perpetual state of agony. It needed to sate the pain, it craved the taste of flesh. It managed to find a hole that it could crawl through and climbed up the ladder to the surface, where it's next meal would probably be

It took at look at the dark night sky and a wide grin crept over it's face. The memories of a time long past swept over it, it could remember every detail of the life it lived. Those thoughts were eventually overwhelmed by the immense hunger it felt. Something caught it's eye, a lone person wandering the streets. He had the appearance of a vagabond, his unkempt features combined with his ragged clothes gave the fact away. The creature realized that it would be easy prey as long as no one was around. It crept on towards the man, waiting for the right moment to attack.

Brandon yawned loudly, letting a fist slam against the punching bag, a resounding crash echoing around the training room. A small bead of sweat ran down his face, trailing from forehead, nose and falling down from his chin. Another day of training complete, though Brandon was unsure why he even bothered doing so, since his mother had hypothesized that his strength would not decrease, nor would it increase; that it had plateaued somehow. With knuckles stinging slightly, Brandon drew his fist back and threw them forward one more time, feeling the wonderful sensation that he got from striking something with his full strength without instantly breaking it. His wife beater was beginning to grow wet with sweat, small patches of moisture showing against the white fabric, and perhaps showing him a sign that he could go for a break right now; not that Brandon was growing tired.

Niall was busy doing whatever it was that the Irish male did when not around him, probably babysitting the little Sean spawn. That meant that Brandon had the entire night to himself, and he could perhaps just enjoy himself, meet up with some friends or something like that. Running a towel over his slightly damp face, Brandon quickly walked to his room, picking out faded looking blue jeans, a simple polo shirt and his white striped jacket to go over that. It was slightly chilly tonight, and he didn’t need to get all chilly. Wiping a few strands of hair from his face, Brandon stepped out the door of the Hale mansion and began his night on the town, taking his quaint little truck to do whatever it was that he was planning.

It was within this little recreational walk that Brandon came upon the situation at hand, or managed to anyway. He had finished eating at his favorite restaurant, one that he frequented enough to know nearly everyone that worked there, and man did they know him. His stomach was full to the brim with various pasta and Brandon was more than ready to return home, plop on the couch, and waste away time watching tv until he fell asleep. That would have happened, but he felt something, a malevolent magical energy that was nearby, one that made his stomach curdle lightly. While he could have ignored the sensation, Brandon felt that he had a duty, and one that he could not ignore right now; even if his supper thought otherwise. So the blonde haired male would follow the sensation, making sure to keep a mental note on where his vehicle was, so that he did not lose it…again.

He looked to a vagabond, one that had a strange feeling about them, but nothing compared to the one that he was following, whatever it was that Brandon Hale came upon, it was evil, or some kind of evil magic was associated with it. The wings held back by the binding of the ring seemed to send that phantom ripple across his spine, wanting to be free, as if he would be better flying away. Still, he could not do that and kept walking onward, further towards whatever it was. That was when he saw it, a being with rotten looking skin, and a stench that nearly caused him to vomit, expression turning lopsided within seconds. ”Holy shit, what the hell is that thing?” Brandon muttered feeling even iller. Taking a few steps forward, he coughed loudly to get its attentions. ?What exactly are you? Like some kind of zombie?”

The creature observed the vagabond that it followed. As time went on however, it noticed that he was talking to himself. This strange habit sent a memory flashing back into the creature's mind. It remembered a man called Paulie, who would seemingly have conversations with himself, asking himself questions and answering them almost immediately afterwards. This was a happier time, when it was still flesh and blood. But it was now nothing but a disgusting husk, a walking corpse. The hunger once again snapped the creature  out of it's daydreaming, bringing it's attention back to the vagabond, who had stopped in his tracks. Why was that? The creature wondered before suddenly noticing a light near the man. Was it coming from him? The creature leaned in for a closer look, hoping to find the source of the light in the dark streets.

Then came sound from another direction, what sounded like loud coughing. Swerving in the direction of the sound, it caught sight of a man, who looked much more cleaner than it's original prey. He suddenly called out to it "What  exactly are you? Like some kind of zombie?". This newcomer let off a strange aura, an aura rhat utterly repulsed the creature causing it to inch away from him. He was different from anyone else he had come across at this point . The creature turned it's attention to the vagabond. Letting out a fierce roar, the creature prepared to lunge at the man, but was stopped by a strange feeling coming over it...

The thing didn’t really respond to Brandon, but then again it was nothing new. While he may have been strong enough to break diamond in his bare hands, Brandon did not look like the most imposing of people. Infact, if he didn’t show his strength, he was wrote off as your average squishy civilian, and that helped when it came to not instantly being pegged as a metahuman, except for that time he was accused of having some kind of super sexy power or something. Brown eyes narrowed as he looked upon the zombie, considering how he planned to deal with the undead monster. It was obvious that it did not have any intentions on attacking him, which was strange actually. If this were some kind of zombie, it would attack without distinction, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, Brandon would do something, or he would have done something if the vagabond did not already make a move on the undead monster. He was performing some kind of magic, something that Brandon was unfamiliar with. ’What the hell?” He muttered narrowing his eyes and taking a few steps closer to whatever was happening.

The creature was stopped by the strange feeling that was coming from this man. It felt this force before. It felt this was when it woke up, a long time ago in the wilderness. This strange force that swept over him and pulled him into the rotten husk that was his body. The memories of the pain it felt during the resurrection came flooding back, leaving it in a strange state similar to as if it was daydreaming. This seemed to give the vagabond enough time to come over to it. The man took off his glove, revealing a glowing hand underneath it and touched it's rotted skin, causing a resonating force to come over the creature. A strange feeling came over it, for the pain had all but disappeared. A voice suddenly came out, the voice of someone that had been long gone from this world. "Who are you? Why doesn't it hurt anymore?"

Focusing intently Michael forced his magic into the huge rotting husk, this was much harder than most seances, this thing was still somewhat attached to a body, a chaotic maelstrom like connection but a connection none the less. Just forming a connection through all the static of it's flesh was hard enough. Though it was when he hit something similar to a magic wall that things got really strenuous. Something of considerable magical might had locked this thing whatever it was, back into it's body. It was similar to the forms of necromancy he had studied with his mother as child, however it was leagues ahead of anything he had ever even read about, let along had the skill to perform. Luckily tearing apart a spell was much easier than constructing one. And it was with this knowledge that he took a metaphysical battering ram to the wall.

Of course their were several more warding spells set in place, no doubt formed to keep people like Michael out. Though most of them were only geared towards keeping the creature tied to the body. Something which he had no idea how to reverse, unlike the previous defenses doing something of that magnitude would require him to formulate a spell of equal or greater strength. And judging by the workmanship of the wards, that was something that he couldn't even get close to doing. Still he only wanted to talk to this creature not undue whatever was holding it together, for the moment at least.

And it was after he had layed the groundwork for his spell that it bore fruits. The creature spoke, or rather the creature's soul did.  "Who are you? Why doesn't it hurt anymore?" It sounded almost baffled that something could take away the pain, that the necromatic workings inside it were no doubt inducing.  

"Whatever was inside you, whatever was torturing you was extremely dark. I simply took a sword  to the the spells that were set in and about that rotting brain of yours. Unfortunately I couldn't completely free you, and this will only last for as long as I keep the flow of power coursing through, and suppressing the spells I cut down. However if you can inform me as to what you are, perhaps I can assist you further." Michael had just said a lot, he hoped the no doubt shell shocked spirit got all of that. In retrospect perhaps he should have shortened it a bit, but it was already said and at least it somewhat got the point across.  

Michael was much too busy to notice the nearly set sun behind him, or the blonde haired man approaching from behind.