Posts by MILEHIGH

A fight? He wasn't sure if he should believe the male's story but it did seem likely that his mother would do something like that. Littlestar had always been a powerful figure in his life who wasn't afraid to challenge and prove her strength. It was something that he wanted for himself as well, but it looks like those types of creatures ended up in an early grave. Bringing a paw to rub at his eyes, the apprentice breathed out a harsh and ragged breath as he suppressed the sobs. It was fortunate that Bucky had not enlightened him about how his mother could have easily dodged the killing blow. Otherwise, Milepaw would have dropped into a deeper pit of confusion while pondering if this was actually a suicide commited by his own mother. It would plague the child's mind, why would his mother be so unhappy with life that she would have kill herself? Miles would have blamed himself, he had always been the wild one and troublemaker.

The maine coon was apologetic, they seemed genuine but again, Miles couldn't be sure. Hell, even if the Bloodclanner was, he wouldn't have been able to forgive and forget. He was young, rash, he didn't know much about forgiving a killer who took away his only parental figure. He should at least be grateful that he learned something akin to the truth. Should he? No. No, this man was a murderer. He shouldn't feel any gratitude in this situation at all. Not towards the maine coon, not towards fate for allowing him to hear the confession with his own ears, not a single fucking person.

Raising his head once more, he looked the older tom in the eye and spoke once more, he words shaky, "alright. I challenge you to battle as well." He needed to do this. For his mother's sake. Despite the fact that she turned Hawkclan into an anticlan, she was an honorable woman to her death. Any attempt at revenge will be done her way, honorably. "Till one of us is dead," he added, his glowing gaze hardening slightly as he steeled himself.

//if Bucky is down for the fight, you have permission to beat up this boy until he's close to death ^^ /most likely, Miles can goad Bucky into it if this isn't your character's style

EVENTS:
▪ Lost his left eye in a fight with Murdoc X and is pretty gloomy as of late // mentally healthier
▪ Suffering from minor amnesia(forgot a few recent events + has altered memory to forget some points of trauma) // caused by challenging Bucky Barnes in a fight to the death(forgot this too lol) // now remembers
▪ Promoted to Paladin Trainee
▪ Promoted to Paladin
▪ mini-hiatus/stepping down/left Blizzardclan
▪ Visits Blizzardclan to pay final respects to Rhaelarys but ends up staying
▪ Wings are growing in
▪ Promoted to Paladin Trainee

He counted five of his targets at the event, they all looked to be in good health. That was good news, they'll be much more fun to hunt down that way. On top of the list was the most rewarding one, a man with the italian mob. He had already slapped a tracking device under the target's ride before they departed the lot and he was currently heading back to his 'base' to properly prepare for the possible hit tonight. Whistling Twisted Nerve, the young man strolled through the comparably quiet streets of the city before he was intercepted as he passed by an alleyway.

The powerful scent of alcohol was the first thing he noticed as he was pulled backwards into the darkness. Huh. Seemed like he was too excited about the kill to notice this drunkard. He'll have to correct himself next time. Feeling himself locked into place by the Russian, Miles couldn't help but snicker quietly, "whoa, Nelly. It'll be nice if you at least offered me a drink first. I like being wined and dined. Or just wined." It didn't take a genius to recognize the voice, the same scruffy looking man from the barside. "What do you want?" Relaxing his body, he held his hands up in a fashion to show that he had no weapons and he wasn't about to 'try anything'. He could talk his way out of this.

Enough with the fucking foreplay, kid. Miles was mildly surprised by those words but he couldn't help but laugh quietly at them. "Well look at you, tiger," he purred as he felt the added pressure on his jaw. The words just tumbled out. Maybe he was dancing with death right now but the brain to mouth filter was extra loose when the situation caused an extra bit of adrenaline boost. "I'll be good, promise. Go easy on my neck, aight?"

With that said, it was annoying how the man somehow noticed that he had another occupation. Did he give himself away? How?He's done this shit numerous times without anyone catching him, but this old Russian dog somehow sniffed him out. Well, it did take a criminal to catch another criminal, perhaps they were of the same breed. Still annoying. "You mean you're not gonna kill me if I tell you a little about myself?" He queried as he enjoyed the other man's body heat on this cold ass winter night, they were pressed quite tight after all. Might as well make the best of a situation. "Somehow, I doubt that."

The Russian twisted his head. Ow. Miles didn't like that and he made it known. "Ahhhh owiiee, daddy. Chill," he whined as he grinned through a grimace. Oh boy, this guy meant business, huh? "Don't worry your pretty lil head, I'm not dealing with the Russians tonight," He revealed, and it wasn't a lie. He wanted the eyetalian eye candy today, but it looked like he was going to be occupied for the night. Hell, maybe he'll even die here. Fat fucking chance. Call him arrogant but he was pretty damned sure he was untouchable. "I'm getting pasta," speaking in riddles came with the job, it came naturally, "don't tell me you're with Mussolini."

He didn't blame the guy for being so suspicious. Miles was the tricky type anyway. However what he said was the truth and he wasn't about to drop anymore information. But the playtime's over. "The Colombians? They're nice people," he would chat amiably, "they're freaky as hell in bed, it's great." As for the next question, did he really want to answer? He could really say anything, lie or something but his neck hurt. He wanted out. He took the chance when he felt the man's grip loosen even by the tiniest bit. Jerking his head out of grasp, he twisted his body and aimed to roughly slam his elbow into the Russian's solar plexus. Whether he hit his mark or not, Miles stumbled out and away from Aleksei only to whip around to face the man once more, this time, pulling a butterfly knife out of his pocket. "Just the Italians, babe," he said, massaging the side of his neck with his free hand, "we done here?" There was a healthy distance between them, and shit would be easier for him since the man was drunk on mad vodka.

The man didn't make a move to attack. Miles watched him with bated breath and a mild smirk on his face that grew once hearing the final words. "I will," he laughed, waving the knife wielding hand in farewell as he backed off, "catch you on the flipside." And with that, he was off on his way again, toying with his blade and resuming his whistling as he trekked towards a new location. He wasn't afraid to turn his back on the drunkard, he was very aware of the man's presence now. He'll be more careful the next time around. Of course that advice will be lost upon him once he gets all hyped up again. Whatever, it was the way he lived.

It wasn't even work related, barely at least. It was him and his stupid mouth again. Was it worth? Maybe, considering that he didn't just roll over and take the beating. It all started with research that he was doing in a seedy area of the city, he bumped into a wannabe robber, a few nasty words were exchanged New York style, and then a fist fight. Whoops. Honestly, Miles had it handled, even considered it as good old fun, until he was shanked in the goddamned abdomen. But hey, at least they were pulled apart after that. And another positive would be that he wasn't really making waves in the wrong area.

With that said and done, he ended stumbling in and planting his ass firmly on one of the waiting area seats of the ER at 9PM sharp. He had balled up his jacket and pressed it against the open wound to stem as much of the flow as possible but of course, that did nothing for the pain. The hospital was closer than home base, he wasn't going to be picky here since he really did not feel like walking anymore. Shit hurt bad, he was sweating fucking bullets. Thankfully, the staff took notice of his situation quickly and didn't even ask him to fill out forms as they escorted him away. Score.

/track for now!

/okay!

Buckingham was too nice. The maine coon was a fucking villain, he wasn't supposed to be like this. No apologies, no hesitation, no morals. Wasn't that the Bloodclan way? They were the kill first talk later type of guys, they've always been. That's what helped the desert dwelling group to rise above the other anti's. Why was this member so hesitant? But the male was right, he was young and untrained. He didn't know the first damn thing about fighting but the idea that it would fix all his troubles ran in his blood. His mother was the explosive type, his father was a reckless demon. He was born to resolve everything this way, or die trying.

"Stop acting like you care for my well being," the boy's eyes narrowed slightly as he took a step closer to the feline, "maybe you shoulda thought about that before you offed my mom." Will he regret this? No. He will regret it only if he pussied out and ran away, an option that he refused to take. However, the fact that Bucky was hesitant was still a niggling little thought in his mind. Why refuse? The fact that there was hesitation only made his rage increase till the point that he was tired of waiting and he lunged forward. Stretching out a paw, the catsune aimed to swipe at Bucky's face with his overgrown black claws.

Oh sweet baby jesus. Was that who he fucking thought it was? That Russian from the other night, what was his name? Nevsky? Perhaps he didn't pay much mind to the man's first name but the bit he remembered was more telling, wasn't it? "What a surprise," Miles couldn't help but remark as he gritted a smirk through the dulling ache. Removing the balled up piece of clothing, he showed off the stab wound that he had sustained, "got shanked, boss. An attempted armed robbery." The bruises and shit were minor, he didn't give a two shit flying fuck about those. The leaky hole was the only priority. "Can you give me something for the pain real quick? Don't wanna vomit on your nice clean floors," it was a bluff if anything, it took much more to make him vomit but any shit he could spew for some painkillers would do for now.