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Tyler wasn't liking Illinois a bit.
The lanky man ran through the warehouse, panting heavily. His sneakers were slapping against the concrete, his chest aching from breathing so hard. He was fairly sure his ribs were going to crack the way his lungs were pushing against them, greedily taking in all the oxygen they could get. He ducked into a narrow passageway, the emergency exit sign on top of the metal door casting an eerie red glow in the near pitch black.
A clang from the overhead scaffolding echoed against the walls, and an animalistic growl rang out. Tyler swore silently as he realized that he’d trapped himself in a dead end, and it was either he got killed by some paranormal entity or broke private property laws.
The clanging grew in volume, and he could hear the screech of metal on metal.
Tyler, you stupid bastard. You're going to get yourself killed. Let me out. I can deal with this pest. A distorted voice rumbled against the back of Tyler’s cranium.
No, I’m not letting you out, Nico. You're not going to let go of me once you're out, now are you? Tyler argued with the parasitic entity within him. I know your tricks, bishop.
Then run, you idiotic buzzard.
Tyler’s head whipped around sharply as he heard a thump and saw the being hunting him, a small blur in the corner of his eye. He bolted for the door, the alarm blaring as he ran into the night. The entity growled and ran after him. Tyler could see another warehouse in the distance. If he could make it inside, he could lose this beast, and hopefully get out of Illinois tomorrow. Tyler’s legs ached, but still he sprinted forward. He heard the heavy grunts of the entity, and his heart nearly stopped as he heard them grow louder. Sweat was in his eyes, his hands were smeared with black paint and blood, and he almost doubled over in nausea.
Tyler didn't even know he'd been caught until that fist had crushed his nose.
He had to admit, crimson looked good on him.
_
Axon was going to kill this guy, and Patrick seriously didn't need another murder charge on his file after Joe.
Axon, no. Don't do this. Patrick pleaded futilely with the entity in his mind.
Come on, Patty, y'know I've been craving a fight recently. Axon taunted him, his voice choppy as though speaking through an electric fan. All Patrick could do was watch as his own body pummeled this guy's face to a pulp. The lanky man's eyes showed a hint of shock, but it was hard to tell because of the blood flowing from his broken nose that was splattered on his face.
Patrick’s fist was bloody, and the brown haired man's hands desperately scraped at Patrick’s arm to make him let up. Black paint left its marks, as well as red flushes where the man's fingernails clawed at the flesh on his arm. Patrick desperately tried to pry control from Axon, but it was as though he was just a vessel, and Axon was the one controlling him.
Axon’s victim bit Patrick’s fist, and the sound that escaped Patrick’s mouth was so guttural it was inhuman. The pain stung harshly, and Patrick was sure the man had broken skin.
Axon, you're going to get me killed. Patrick thought.
Not if you let me kill this guy. Axon drawled.
Wasn't Joe enough for you? Patrick begged him. Stop. Let me take control again.
We both know I'll do whatever I want, Patty. Just keep quiet. Axon snarled as he raised Patrick’s hook above his head, intent on tearing this guy open.
Patrick caught the flash of red in the other man's eyes, and in the next moment, he was on the floor, gasping for breath. The man’s hand had wrapped around his throat, and started choking him.
It was Axon’s turn to fight for the upper hand, and with his one hand, he grabbed at the red eyed man's wrist, grinning as he heard a snap. In other circumstances, Patrick would have loved to be choked like this, but considering he was on the lam, he had to admit an abandoned shipyard wasn't a very romantic location.
He couldn't ignore the way that the other man was gazing into his eyes, like he was mesmerized and fascinated.
He was distracted. And that was exactly what Axon needed. He kicked up, throwing the man off him. But a sense of uncertainty tugged in Patrick's gut.
Hey, this guy…I don't really know… Axon paused, seeming to almost have lost all his bravado from before. It made Patrick want to laugh, but he kept his mouth shut.
Don't even think about leaving now. You’re in control; this is what you wanted. Patrick reprimanded him.
Sorry. Not.
Patrick felt the ache in his lungs intensely as Axon relinquished control on him. When Axon took over him, it was as though any injury he got was diminished; dull pains. But now Axon had left him out to dry, and he staggered to his feet, his face covered in the stranger's blood and the metallic taste of it dripping into his mouth.
Patrick grunted as the other man rushed at him, those blood red eyes staring into his soul. They were blazing hot, the man's mouth in an almost otherworldly snarl. His heart sped up as he stumbled backwards, and his face was met with one, two, three uppercuts. Somewhere in his mouth, it was bleeding, mixing with the other man's blood. It was an odd way of tasting someone else, an odd intimacy acquired by pure chance and misfortune. Patrick's good hand reached up to grab the other man's face and pull him closer, mauve already flushing on his knuckles and framing the bloody bruises on his hand.
This man was incredibly fascinating. Patrick saw the planes of his face under the blood, his ivory teeth glinting in the moonlight. Patrick's hand trailed down to the man's throat, but not to choke him. He let his hands find the man's pulse, how it hammered against his digits, beating at such a rate that it seemed like he'd drank too much caffeine.
Patrick flipped them over, him on top, staring down the taller man. He could see the wince as the other man's broken wrist hit the ground, but still eyed Patrick with disdain. Patrick reached up to wipe the blood dripping out of his mouth.
Patrick felt Axon stir in the rear of his mind. He has no right to look at you like that. Who does he think he is? It seemed Axon had regained his confidence. Patrick could feel his control slipping.
Now you want to show up? Patrick complained.
Let me at him.
Patrick lost his grip on his body, and he watched as Axon grabbed at the other man's collar. The red eyed man stared at him with such disgust. Patrick was sure Axon, with his sulfur yellow eyes, was looking back at the other with just as much hatred.
“What's your name, dick?” Axon drawled, his voice a low hum.
“Nico.” The other man replied, his voice deep and distorted.
Axon slapped him and spat in his face. The blood and saliva landed at the corner of the other’s mouth.“You've got quite the nerve to pick a fight with me, y'know?” He sneered.
“I wouldn't have even stepped foot here had it not been for this hollow-brained vessel of mine.” Nico retorted. He shoved Axon off him, wincing as he shifted his weight off his broken arm.
Patrick had a feeling that “Nico” was actually someone else.
“Yeah, whatever.” Patrick felt Axon reach for the cigarettes in his jacket. One of their many compromises; Patrick didn't smoke all that much, but Axon did. Occasionally, he'd let Axon take over for a smoke.
Patrick saw “Nico” brush at his face. A wallet had fallen out, and it was open to the driver's license. Patrick made out the name Tyler Joseph.
This guy got roped into being some paranormal entity's puppet too, huh? Patrick thought.
Axon watched Nico lick at the corner of his mouth. He smirked. “How do I taste?”
Nico glanced over at Axon, his eyes slowly trailing over Patrick’s face before staring into his sulfur yellow eyes. “Foul.”
“Well, that's certainly an interesting way to say delicious.”