A shadded figure slowly made its way down the side walks of the down town. Wearing rather long baggy brown pants and a midnight black hoody; the hood covering over his silver hair. His head was down, creating a shadow over his eyes so that the only thing noticable was his devilish grin and the red "<" On his left cheek. He had multiple scars, but the only visible were the two in his left cheek and the thin line that came up and around the front of his chin.

He was new here, and no one knew who he was. Like a clean plate to readily destroy.

Scan me, dear people, scan me with your metal detectors. You would piss your pants if you ran me through an x-ray. I wear a belt of assorted switch blades across the inside of my pants, pockets filled with guns, but you'll never see them for how well they are placed. If you get those off you still have to get to my shoes and socks, and they hold just three more each. Don't forget my strength, I've wrestled down people twice my size with ease and I know your weakest spots.

He gave a dark laugh as he continued his walk. A daring move? He shook his arm a tad bit, yanking down a black, dragon handled, pocket knife. Flicking it open and twirling it in his hands. Shouldn't dull a nice blade on brick but if he found a lowly creature, it would be a field day started...

Faute, the mistake. Ah, yes. His name fit so well. The bristled male was tall, lean and bitter with anger. Out looking for his brother, Atticus, he was and his eyes were blazing with his anger and hatred for his brother but he had news to tell him. Their dear little sister, she had had pups. The once somewhat nice Faute was now just as bad as his brother and father, his rage spilling off of him in waves. Ready to kill, he was.

Thats when he scented a human. Ah, perfect. He was as silent as a shadow, creeping behind Siren. He wanted to attack, but he was no fool. This human, he didn't seem right. He seemed more....Dangerous. Faute was still silent, that is until he brushed against a trash can and a metal pole that had been resting on it rolled, and fell to the ground. Clang. The male leapt into the shadows, but his glowing eyes could be seen still. His white and grey fur was bristled, standing on end and his eyes were alight with the same anger for the human as they had been for his brother.

Now the question was, where was Atticus?

The man stopped and paused for a moment, not even giving a glance as his senses pushed back to check what was behind him. It was no human, shoes would have been heard as well as racing breaths if they had meant to hide. No, it was a creature of the four legged. Cats wouldn't be so clumsy if they were following, it was either canine or something else.

Slowly he turned the dragon handled blade, letting the light glint from it's silver steal. His frame followed after to look at the glowing eyes and he smiled. A dark and humorous smile with a low chuckle that may shake the earth. "Well, well, I have a stalker." He growled under his breath and took a step closer with his armed hand down. Fingers clenched the handle, ready to swiftly bring up the blade if need be.

To further purge the wolf from it's hiding spot, Siren brought up his foot without fault, and jabbed a trash can toward the hind end of the wolf. As if to herd the beast into the light. If the wolf were to come at him, his blade would surely go up in defense.

He heard the words, and in reply a soft growl was emitted from the wolf hybrids throat. He wanted to attack, but he wasn't stupid. Humans didn't turn around like that to face off with a creature. Why wasn't Siren bolting? As the man took a step closer, Faute snarled and took a step back not out of fear but out of cautious uncertainty. Suddenly, the trash can was coming at him. He dove left, avoiding the fall but light spilled across his white and grey body. His fangs were revealed, glistening and white as he snarled at Siren but still made no move to attack. He wouldn't run, no. That was the cowards way out. He wouldn't attack, that was the stupid way to die. Phelan and Atticus's way. Faute had always been the cautious one. Judging his opponent before attacking. Finding their weakness. Thats how he had defeated his own brother in a fight. He looked bigger then he was, with his fur standing on end. His eyes were full of anger, for the man and himself for not knowing how to attack because he could find no fault in the human. His tail was not held up in dominance, but it was held in a care free manner as if he cared not that he was there. He was lean, but not thin. Muscled, but not overly so. He was a killing machine, and the raging male knew it. Now if he could just attack, he'd be happy. Faute slowly began to walk, beginning to circle Siren to search for any hidden weakness.

Siren held tight to his blade as the wolf revealed in the light. He gave no emotion to the sight of the beast, not a twitch, not a wince, not a smirk, grin or sigh. He was just observant as if mathematically deciphering what the wolf was thinking. As he predicted, the wolf did not run, but began to circle around him. He stayed calm and pulled down his hood to clear his view and enhance the peripheral vision.

As the hood went down, his eyes were closed, white hair appeared held back by a red head band. The front part of his hair (Forelock/bangs) were that of a steel blue. His head lifted a bit, eye brows now shown, highlighted like a candy bar, white with blue streaks. A scar laid slightly slanted across his brow while another ran from the tip of his left eye brow, over the bridge of his nose and down to the middle of his right cheek. Another was a small slit scar just below his right eye...- His eyes opened, piercing for that of a human. His pupils were slightly constricted, hugged tightly by a yellow blanket that faded to a soft brown. High in contrast to the silver blue locks that fell around his face. His head flicked to clear some bangs, two shining objects flashed at his left ear. A spike at the corner of his cartilage and a four link chain on his lobe. He smirked-

Now he didn't know much on animals, but was sure enough with himself to let the wolf pass behind him. Oh but he did not do so without caution. As the wolf began its movements he shook his other hand, another red handled dagger fell from within and he flicked his wrist to let the six inch blade lock into place. Other than that, he made no attempts to keep his front to the wolf.

Awe but even more; as the wolf passed his side, he shifted his weight onto his opposing foot. Letting the leg nearest to the beast lift to its toe in preparation to kick the wolf if he were to attack, and a sharp jab it would be. He had been fighting his whole life, he knew not to be tense. As/if the wolf circled behind and continued, his shifted his weight once more to keep the attentive leg available to defend.

It hadn't been too long ago that the son of Aaka and Legosa had escaped from the CrypticSiver Gang. Limping and half-starved, the hybrid was far from good condition. Even worse, he still wore a metallic muzzle that not only kept him from defending himself, but from feeding himself as well. The damned thing was strapped around the back of his head and neck, where it fitted to the chain collar that dangled behind him.

Ears and tail up, the haggard brute stalked along the streets at the quickest pace his wounded limb and starving frame would allow him. If it weren't for that crippling bite his father gave him, Atticus would have stopped long before he reached Faute; but he could no longer smell. At least, not nearly as well as he should be able too. The brother's scent just wafted past his scarred nose without any detection.

It wasn't until Atticus came around the last corner that he spotted a familiar figure circling around a human. For a moment, the hybrid stood still, golden eyes wide as he stared at his brother. Embarassment was the first thing to flash through his mind. That was, until he spotted the glint of a blade held in the man's hand. "Faute, the two-legger has a weapon." Atticus snarled in a dark tone, glaring at his brother in warning, his words partially muffled by the contraption over his jaws.

He wanted to attack. You could see it in his eyes, and hear it in his angered snarl. But how was he to attack and kill, when this human possessed no seen weakness? Then Atticus arrived. Faute had never thought he'd feel joy at seeing his brother, but when he did arrive he couldn't help but feel it. Time to kill. Then he heard his brothers voice, and gave a snarl in the males direction. I know that! Then his eyes drifted to Atticus, and he halted in his steps. Where...Where was his brother? This mangy mutt before him could not be the bitter Atticus. His eyes flashed towards Siren, then he backed up but still did not run. Nor did he take his eyes off of him. As he neared Atticus, he glared at the contraption. I never knew you were fool enough to be caught by a two legger, brother. He hissed. He began biting at the straps, trying to release the male but with no success. He shrugged. Oh well, not his problem. Then his eyes turned back to Siren. Taunting, they were. Taunting and full of bitter rage and dark hatred for this man who had done literally nothing to him. Without his brothers help, he couldn't bring down Siren and he knew it. You could see he knew, for keen intelligence lay in his eyes. He stepped forth, closer to Siren those eyes watchful and decieving. Would he attack, or would he leave him?

The brother rolled his eyes, "Sure you did, Faute." Cocky as ever still. As Atticus studied his brother, he felt embarrassment wash over him even more. Hackles rose over his back and neck, held down only where the chain was wrapped about his throat, "Don't even start with me! You're lucky I have this damned trap on my muzzle..." The hybrid hissed, fierce orbs narrowed at the other, before he turned his sights back to the human. "Taken a fancy for human blood? Or is this a friend of yours?" He asked sarcastically, trying to change the subject.

Siren's head seemed not move, it was only his eyes that did follow. As Atticus arrived, Siren's senses shifted so that he could not feel both present. He felt Faute hault, and looked down upon the wolf as he watched his brother. Siren's had clenched around the black handled dagger that was in his right hand, ready to attack but the wolf moved away and toward the mutt.

Siren's lips curled at a single corner as he allowed an amused sneer to escape his nose. He could see the tension between the two, and could the heat of hatred toward him. It was all to humorous to the killer, but he did not express it with an outburst of laughs. He made no attempt to turn to the two, no attempts to sympathize for the starving wolf, and no motion that would predict an attack on his part.

It was when his eyes looked forward to leave did Faute once again stepped up. Siren's yellow orbs turned to the wolf, meeting his gaze with strength. When the wolf stepped within a certain range (4ft) Siren's right arm flicked up and down quickly, tossing the blade for half a second(or less) and catching its tip. Then without hesitation or a single pause, his arm flung around toward the wolf.

A small tack was heard as the pointed tip of the blade embedded into the tar that divided two slabs of concrete, just inches in front of Faute. The dagger stood straight up with the dragon's diamond eyes staring at the wolf. Its head neatly resting at the base of the handle and its short arms embracing the base while it's long Chinese dragon like body coiled the rest of the way down. It's tail gently resting against the base of the blade. (if blade down, dragons head is up). Its mouth was slightly agape, with small ivory teeth showing aggressively. The wolves would never know it was stolen and worth a lot of money.

As the blade landed, Siren tossed the dagger in his left hand, up and snatched it with his right. Flashing it a bit as he turned and faced the wolf. Smiling then moving and leaning against the brick wall behind him to lean on. Cynical eyes flashing. Would wolves react the same as humans did?

He was advancing, coming closer, when suddenly the knife was thrown at him. As it was thrown, he tensed his entire body and was about to spring but it hit the ground just in front of him. He opened his mouth, his fangs bared at Siren. Time to die. He snarled. Saliva was dripping from his fangs, and his eyes were wild with rage and frustration. His tail was raised in dominance, and the male came forward once more. He stepped past the knife, closer and closer until he was a scant two feet from Siren. His fangs were glistening in the light, and the male made no other move. Siren still had a weapon, still making him dangerous. Dammit, why wasn't he running like a normal human?

The mans eyes flashed dangerously now as the wolf moved around his warning. As Faute snarled, Siren's own sneer appeared. Veering his own human teeth as a wolf or savage creature would. "So, You don't take kindly to warnings? You were lucky you even got one." He shoved himself off the wall and took a step toward the wolf. Stomping his foot angerly just infront of the wolf. His eyes forever reading every twitch of the wolf.

As his foot stomped down, his arm struck out like that of the viper snake. The blade could only be seen as a small flash of light as it came down. His aim was to puncture it right through the top jaw of the wolf. If the aim was true, which more times than not it was, it would embed deep, the tip would just bearly stick out through the roof of his mouth. He did not aim to kill, the brain was left clear out of aim. His goal was to labor the breathing of the creature. If successful, Faute would have to breathe though his mouth and weeze through his nose.

He didn't like how suddenly Siren had moved forward, so the male took a step back. Still to close, he went to take another step back when suddenly a knife was flying at him. His eyes widened, but he had no chance to move from his two feet away. The knife hits its mark, and the male let out a roar of agony and rage. He didn't want to move, the pain was so intense, but still his snarls could be heard. He would not bow down to this man, but his tail did lower a bit and he was trying his hardest not to whimper or show his pain. Blood was flowing into his mouth. His blood. He would not show anger, he would show nothing. Suddenly, the males snarls stopped as if they had never been there. Those eyes seemed to go dead and flat, nothing inside of them. A Hollow creature.

Siren smiled as he felt his upper hand. A victory it was, though sad the only one who had witnessed was the other wolf in the alley. Leaning down, he untied a shoe and took off the string. Smiling at the hollow wolf that stood before him. But he wasn't about to get his hands dirty.

Quickly he flung the string so that it rest on the other side of the blade. Held up by the blade itself. If the wolf had never felt this tactic, he may not move. Though wince he did predict. If the wolf were to evade, The string would get snagged where blade and handle met Siren would hold the string still until he learned not to move. If Faute let things pass without fight, he would tie in a loop and one end and feed the other through; Then he let it dangle so that when he tugged at the feeding loop it would tighten and slowly close around the wolf's maw. If this was successful, there was now no way for the wolf to move without intensly hurting himself.

With the string tightening, he yanked at the last minute and held up up so high the wolfs front paws would have bearly touched the ground. Grabbing the string with both hands he would created what would have been a loop, but looped it infront of the blade. The knife had now become the base of a make-shift muzzle. One loop would be fastened behind the blade (between the base of his muzzle and the blade) and the other looped around the front. With repeated strocks he began a sailors knot until there was only five inchest of the string left. He tight eight secure knots so that now matter how much Faute would struggle, he would not get the string off. The more the strggle, the more the strung would shift down his nose. Shifting the blade thought his face and open the wound.

"Let's see you get out of that one." He laughed darkly, as if testing the wolf's own strength. He saw fight in Faute, but also intellegence.

He wanted to run, but he wouldn't back down. He couldn't back down, for foolish pride forbid it. The hybrid let out a snarl now, but he quickly silenced himself. He stood still, his head raised proudly, and with canine defiance against Siren. He made no movement as the make shift muzzle was put into place, no move to bite no move to snarl and snap. The knife still inbedded, he really didn't want to move for fear of making it worse. The wolf hybrid panted, lifting a paw at the string but as he did so the string slid down towards the knife. Immediatly he halted, and raised those bright eyes to meet Sirens. Defiance. All the way. He lifted a paw, hitting the knife with it trying to dislodge the thing but more pain went through and the knife budged not. A Soft snarl was given in frustration. What now? He couldn't get the muzzle off without screwing himself up even more then he already was. Do something! He weezed over at Atticus. Breathing was getting difficult, and blood and saliva was dripping from his mouth. He should never have come looking for trouble.

The man chuckled darkly under his own breath. Staring at the wolf's pain as if a game of 'who-the-better', how long would it take Faute to realize that he had lost? "Try as you might, pup, the only way to take that muzzle off is to take off half your face. And you wouldn't want that now would you? Then you would be as helpless as a child." He sneered under his breath as flashes of memory coursed through him. But he brushed it away as if dust on his shoulder. It was his fuel to get revenge one what the world had given to him. The world turned its back on him, so he drew a knife and stabbed it. Nothing will ever again turn their back towards a killer.

"Now now, I think I want to hang on to you for a little longer shall we?" He looked up to Atticus that stood in the distance. He feared not a wolf with a muzzle. For now, neither of these creatures were a threat. He dug into a pocket on that was sown into the calf of his pants. Withdrawing fishing rope, It had a slight tinge of red hue, and the fading smell of human blood upon it.

He made a lasso of it and threw it over the defeated wolfs head. Try and try again if he missed once, the wolf wouldn't get very far with that blade in his face. Only after a succesful catch did he walk past the wolf to retrieve his dragon dagger. Yellow eyes pierced out to the brother wolf, staring him straight in the eyes for a moment. If the wolf wished to follow his brother, and possibly have the muzzle removed. He would follow. And Siren left with a firm hold on the fishing rope. Refusing to follow would only sufficate Faute further. There was no point in refusal.

And What a travel it will be. Siren began his journey to a Canyon, staying well out of the reaches of human civilization.