- Eye of the Storm - (Morrison)

[ansy]

- The young woman looks at Sully with a smile, her hands running over the muscles in his arms and shoulders. The whole 'bad boy rocker' thing he has going on certainly draws in the ladies and the more 'upper class' members of London's female population quite like it which makes it easier for him to get close to one should she be a target for assassination. The woman in front of his is one such case; a human who had been found to been giving out information about Izan to some highup werewolves and even human police and Izan cannot have such a person left alive to run their mouth. For once he is not wearing his shades, having removed them at the request of the woman so that she could see his eyes, which irks him to no end since he prefers to keep his eyes hidden since when people look at your face it's your eyes and the features around them that most people take notice of. He could have all his tattoos on show and no one would remember one of them properly, but show them your eyes and face and that's what they'll give to the police in their description. And been an assassin for an organisation that technically doesn't exist sully is all about keeping his face hidden and his identity unknown. Not that he would be found even if they did get a good description of him, he doesn't exist on any world wide or national data base and no birth records. Still, better to be safe than sorry.

With the woman preoccupied with giving Sully a few kisses that he really doesn't care about he takes out a small pen knife, moves away and pushes the blade into the womans neck. Her eyes widen at the sudden pain, fear filling them. The vampire just smiles, showing his fangs and roughly pulls the woman towards him, blood bubbling from the wound in her neck and coming from her mouth. "You should have kept your mouth shut, then none of this would be happening to you". With a laugh he kisses her to taste her human blood. Breathing in the smell of the blood deeply he steps back, pulling out the knife blade as he does and pushes the woman into the shadows of an a dark side street to die. Without a care he walks away, taking out of his shades as he walks and putting them on. He pauses for a moment then steps out into the flow of humans moving along the footpath, melding into the mass of people.

[Morrison Whelan]

"10 minutes?"

A pause. "Yeah, 10 minutes, 20 at the most."

"Alright, don't be late, I'm going crazy out here." With that, Morrison hung up his cell phone, shoving it in his pocket. He hadn't bothered to say 'Bye'. didn't think that it was much of a big deal, and didn't understand why you would bother ever saying a goodbye to anyone you knew you would soon see again. Goodbyes felt final, dooming. In his heart, he'd wished he'd been able to say goodbye to Meadhbh, even if at the time it would have seemed odd, and later would have turned out to be a very ominous sign, it might have given him a little closure. For at the moment, his head was still reeling over his inability to comprehend his friends death. There was no body, no prosecuted murderer; there was only blood and the smell of a vampire, none of which helped in any way.

Sighing, Morrison moved out from under the awning on the building he had been leaning against, then blended into the thinning crowd, strolling down the sidewalk. It still wasn't clear why his buddy, Nathan, had chosen the Barbican to bring him a 'meal'. There were a lot of people around, so they would seem pretty inconsequential, two guys and a human girl, but it would mean that Morrison would have to wait to eat until he got to a more secluded place. That would have been his apartment, yet he was far too hungry to wait that long. And it wasn't helping that the smell of human all around him. The warm was pulling them out later too fast, it was very difficult for him to control himself now.

Soon, he found his destination, a poorly maintained art gallery where he would meet up with Nate. There was still a few minutes for him to kill, so he stood with his back to the street, staring in at the artwork, though he found little intriguing, none of it was very good. He thought that he could have done better, and he was far from having an real artistic talent. At least it was something to look at it, even if it bored him a bit. He quickly made a game out of peering into the back of the gallery where his keen eyes could barely and trying to make out what the pieces back there looked like.

After a good ten minutes, the wolf became bored and turned back to look at the people passing him by. His friend should have been there by then, with his date, but he was nowhere to be seen and his scent wasn't around. Morrison hoped that Nate hadn't taken the liberty of eating the girl already, he was even paying man. Though, if he replaced the girl with another, Morrison supposed that he'd be alright with that, at least he would still be getting something to eat. Either way, he felt that he should call Nate to see what was going on. His hand was halfway in his pants' pocket when a familiar smell caught his attention.

It wasn't Nate, it wasn't even if a wolf. The scent had the acrid tinge of vampire in it and the sweet hint of human. The leech part, he concentrated on that, thinking... Where had a picked that up before? Suddenly it came to him, the realization smacking him so hard in the face that his jaw dropped an few centimeters. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Meadbhb's killer, it was exactly what he'd smelled the day he'd went to her house. He could only be astonished for a few seconds, staring after the scent, trying to pick out who it was. From this distance though, he couldn't distinguish one smell from another, he'd have to chase after.

Rage slowly bubbled up in his mind, blocking out most other thoughts. Morrison pushed past people, shoving them aside without caring if they were forced to the ground or smashed into the building. All that mattered was getting at the son of a bitch that'd taken down Meadhbh. He was fast on his long legs and soon he could make out exactly where the vampire's scent was; dark hair, buzz cut, strong. Growling softly, the wolf came up fast behind the leech then pushed his hand into the back of the vamp's neck before turning him and shoving him forward into a narrow alleyway. Without warning or explanation, Morrison proceeded to swing his arm around, slamming the man's head into a brick wall, but only hard enough to daze him. He wanted the bastard to have a long, drawn out, torturous death.

[ansy]

He had started to turn around slightly even before Morrison had done so himself. Sully resists against the wolfs force a little, but Morrison still manages to hit his head against the brick wall, the rough bricks cutting up the side of his face. He never liked his own blood been spilt, much less by a werewolf. He thought for a moment why this man would want to be attacking him out of the blue, but then he realises and laughs, the pain in his face fading slowly. "Are you here to try and avenge the death of that dog. It might make you feel better but it's not going to bring her back. There is no chance of her ever coming back, I made sure of that". His cocky attitude refused to let Sully think for one second that Morrison could take him out, sure the wolf could give him a beating that Sully would gladly return, but he would fight with all his might to stop himself been killed. To finish this fight he would have to use just his bare hands and the one knife he has.

His back against the wall he keeps his eyes on Morrison, his fangs bared. "What're you going to do huh? Hit me, stab me, bash my head against this brick wall?". He lifts his hands quickly, places them on Morrisons chest and closes his hands into fists to grab the material of his shirt. With a hold on Morrisons shirt Sully pushes forwards on the wolf then turns quickly letting go mid turn, launching Morrison towards the wall. He takes the moment that his attacker is away from him to take out his knife, twirling it a few times before holdig it up, ready to be used. "I'm not in the mood to go through this dog, so why don't we get this over and done with as fast as possible yeah, and be getting any of your blood on me please. The last thing I need is any of your poison getting on, or heaven forbid, in me because if I go down I'm taking you with me".

[Morrison Whelan]

"Are you here to try and avenge the death of that dog? It might make you feel better but it's not going to bring her back. There is no chance of her ever coming back, I made sure of that."

Morrison was dumbfounded for a moment. Was this man seriously so used to being confronted by those seeking vengeance for those he killed that it was obvious to him what someone wanted when he was attacked? The wolf wasn't going to give him an affirmative on what he had said, and didn't let his face show more than determined anger in his face. A foe without motivation was much more intimidating, as they might go to any extreme and might pull out a fight as long as they wanted. The leech may have figured him out, but Morrison wasn't about to let him know that. Though, maybe if he did, the vamp would let down his guard a bit, that cockiness making him sloppy. Yet, until he was sure of how the vampire was going to act, the wolf was going to keep his reasoning a mystery.

Morrison had pulled his hands away from the leech now, though they were still raised, ready to grab and tear. "What're you going to do, huh? Hit me, stab me, bash my head against this brick wall?" All of those suggestions sounded very tempting and would probably be used to good effect. By the end of this, the damned vampire's blood would be splattered all over this alley. Then he realized that a little of his own would be split as well; the leech was strong.

The werewolf braced himself as his shirt was taken into the vamp's hands, but he was already being spun around and the cloth had such little give, that Morrison was forced to move with it completely. Once let go, he stumbled back, unable to stop himself with the momentum that he had gained, but when he hit the brick wall, the impact didn't turn out to be that hard, as he had been able to slow himself a little before. However, this had given the vampire a chance to pull out a nasty looking knife. Thankfully, the wolf was always prepared for this. He yanked a thick pair of leather gloves from his jacket pocket then pulled them on, flexing his hands to loosen up the slightly stiff material. How he could grab the knife without receiving much more than a thin slice on his palm.

"I'm not in the mood to go through this dog, so why don't we get this over and done with as fast as possible yeah, and don't be getting any of your blood on me please. The last thing I need is any of your poison getting on, or heaven forbid, in me because if I go down I'm taking you with me"

"I'm sorry I'll have to disappoint you then," Morrison growled, heaving a deep breath as he took a step from the wall. His right hand was extended out before him, ready to snatch up the leech's blade should he lunge at him, while the other he held clenched in a fist at his hip. So far. he'd done more damage to the vampire than had been done to himself, and therefore he had the upper hand. This could easily change in a split second, but the wolf was incredibly confident that he could win this battle, because if worse came worse, he could whip out the pistol that he had concealed inside his jacket and crash a bullet right through the leech's head. He didn't let this get to his head, though it was a comforting thought.

With a barking sort of yell, Morrison ran at the vampire then turned just before hitting him, right hand lashing out and grabbing onto the man's wrist, the hand attached to which his knife was held. Before the leech could do more than start to twist to retaliate, the wolf brought a knee up and smashed in into the small of the creature's back, hoping it was hard enough to harm him in some way.

[ansy]

The sight of the gloves makes Sully smile and laugh a little. "You think leather gloves are going to stop this? Whatever makes you feel better I guess and if it means you're going to put up more of a fight then by all means do what you need to". The knife he holds in his hand is the exact same one he'd used to pin Meadhbh's hand to the ground when he'd been in her house. And now he was using the same knife to defend himself against someone who was coming after for killing the wolf. Seemed almost like poetic justice or something. He'd have to be careful with one, he looked like the kind of man who wouldn't give up on a fight until one, or both, of them is lying on the ground dead which meant he'd fight hard and there would be blood. The last thing he needs is to get any werewolf blood in his system, depending on the amount it could either make him very 'ill' or kill him and given the options Sully would much rather take the 'illness' over death. "Now which hand was it that I put this thing through? Was it her left or right? It was all happening so fast I can hardly remember. Perhaps you'd like a matching wound, something to remember her by". One of his largest negative traits, if he had any good ones could be debated, is that he never knows when to keep his mouth shut he has to go running his mouth. He hates not been in control of a situation and his way of dealing with it is to start spouting snarky and callous comments towards whoever happens to be in the immediate area.

"Disappoint me? So you want this to be drawn out for as long as possible huh. Well I can't say I've got all night. Unlike yourself I can't stay out until the sun comes up". Sully watches Morrison run towards him. He went to move one way but then the wolf shifted direction and grabbed onto his wrist. As Sully starts to twist his hand to free it he feels a sharp stinging in his back and there is a soft cracking sound of something either breaking or cracking. He cringes a little though makes no sound of pain so not to give Morrison the satisfaction of knowing that he has hurt him. Ignoring the pain sully uses his free hand to grab Morrisons hair and pull his head back, digging his nails into the wolfs scalp. "You are not going to end me here. I will not be killed in some alleyway"

[Morrison Whelan]

That cracking noise was the most wonderful sound Morrison had heard in a long time. He didn't think that anything had been broken, or the vampire would now be laying paralyzed on the ground, but the injury would painful enough for a while to make him a bit sloppy. Still, immobile would have been preferable now that the leech had twisted around and grabbed onto a good chunk of his hair and forced his head back. Before, it hadn't seemed like such a big deal that he had kept his hair long and not had it trimmed to its usual, much shorter length. But now, with his neck exposed and vulnerable, he almost wished that he had his entire head shaved.

"You are not going to end me here. I will not be killed in some alleyway"

"That's what you think," Morrison growled, grinning widely to conceal his panic over his very open throat, "but I might just prove you wrong." For a moment, he was still, feeling little beads of hot blood forming on his scalp, caused by the nails pressed into his skin, before swinging around his free arm and smashing his elbow as hard as he could into the base of the vampire's skull. The hand holding his hair became looser so that he could yank away, releasing his grip from the man's arm. He stepped back a few paces, rubbing at a slightly thinner patch of hair on top of his head.

This was becoming a little too easy and it worried him. Was this vamp just playing with him, before yanking out some amazing weapon and taking hi down with one hit? Hopefully, the leech wasn't carrying any sort of item like that, as he seemed slightly inept in hand on hand combat, just as Iivan was. But this man seemed to rely more on knives than guns, meaning that he was better when it came to physically defending himself than hiding behind some firearm. He must be pretty well trained to have been able to take down Meadhbh, at least. And what had that comment been about stabbing her through the hand...? No, he wasn't going to dwell on that now, it was too gruesome.

Running a hand over his nose, to take in the scent of the leather to give himself a reprieve from the vampire's stench, Morrison glared over at his opponent, waiting for an attack or looking for an opening where he could get in one good hit and have him on the floor. It would be foolish to just run at him, as he could easily lunge out with the knife and get him in the gut, which would be slow to heal. If the leech didn't come at him first, it would force the wolf to act, but he would only do so if he saw a weakness in the vampire's concentration and defenses.

"God, you stink," he rumbled, taking a slow step forward, body prepared to throw a counter attack. Someone on the sidewalk or street behind them let out a muffled little yell and there was the scampering of feet, but the wolf ignored all of this. Such noises had probably being going on earlier, as people would certainly have noticed that there was a fight going on, which wasn't necessarily common around there, but Morrison had been too wrapped up in his need to rip this thing's throat out. That thought was still on his mind, yet now that he had a slight rest, he could think and the sounds from outside of the alleyway were clear as day.