Territorial Tyrants {Private/Ask}

[Sebastian Lathan Gallahue]

Boots plodded loudly on the stone pathway, not giving a care in the world whether or not they were heard. In fact, the way the cane in the man's hand twirled so nonchalantly and how is lips half-curled into a mischievous smirk, one could say he wanted to be heard. The Hatter's crystalline blue eyes scanned across King's Landing. It was rather ironic. Just a few hours ago when the sun was up, the area was filled with happy families eating their little picnics, young lovers fawning over one another and older couples holding hands and sitting silently on the wooden benches, friends conversing with each other, dog-fanatics jogging and playing with their canines, runners getting their daily exercise... And now the park was completely clear of the good people of society. Once the moon shone within the night sky, the scum of the city congregated in this area to deal drugs, get high, and plan evil deeds, among other things. This was the very reason the Hatter found himself there. The opportunities presented to him at the dark-side of King's Landing were absolutely endless. So few, if anyone, cared about these low-lifes. Hatter would know, for he was one of them. Only he was far more superior. No one would miss these guys if they happened to disappear. Actually, the police would be glad because it meant less people to go back to jail. No one would also care if they were taken advantage of.

When Hatter casually strode by the fountain in the middle of the park, a group of men tensed in irritation and circled around the man. Hatter blinked and halted, glancing around at the men surrounding him. The presumable leader of the group, a big, burly man with numerous tattoos decorating his arms and body barked out why the fuck he dared go in their territory and if he was smart then he would leave immediately. The Mad Hatter giddily chuckled, not even the least bit intimidated by the men glowering down at him and showing their weapons. The leader took a step forward and asked in a growl whether or not the man wanted to die. Crystalline eyes playfully looked up at the man and his shoulders shrugged, remarking with a grin, "Not particularly. Life's too much fun for me ta kick the bucket now. How about yerself?"

The other men looked surprised that the man would say such a thing and the leader yelled, "Are you tryin' to fuck wit' me, pretty boy?!"

Hatter leaned back and howled in laughter, his free arm wrapped around his stomach. It quickly subsided into light chuckles and he responded, "Oh, trust me. If I was tryin' ta fuck with ya, you'd know it. And as fer callin' me a pretteh boy, while I appreciate de compliment, ya ain't exactly mah type, ya know. I tend ta prefer de... prettier an' more attractive features, which ya seem ta be lackin' in wit' yer face tat looks like the Earl of Hell's arse, unlike yer partner on ta right who I wouldn't mind givin' me an Aussie kiss."

Infuriated by the man, the leader pulled out a gun and aimed it straight at Hatter's chest. The Irishman grinned and lifted up his hands in painfully obvious feigned fright, exclaiming in a mocking tone, "Oh no! I'm so astray in te head! Whatever will I do~?"

Having heard enough of the disrespectful man, the leader proceeded to shoot him once in the chest and three times in the stomach. Hatter fell on his knees and collapsed on the ground. The gang huffed in satisfaction and all gathered around one another, starting to talk about business and how stupid that guy who messed with them was. A minute passed and the body of the man twitched. Hatter spit out blood and sat up, proceeding to remove his jacket and shoes. The gang was too busy talking to notice the man until he struggled up and said, a pained smirk on his face, "Ya know, ya'll are real bold to shoot a man before he's done talkin'." His blue eyes glanced down at his bloodied shirt which was full of bullet holes. He pursed his lips, began removing his gloves and belt, and remarked, "And ya ruined my clothes. I'ma have to get new pants and a shirt. Just fer that, it's mighty time I give ya a bollocking... ta teach the other kiddies, ya know."

His teeth tightly clenched as if in pain and a low growl rumbled deep within his throat. The muscles of his body seemed to tense and move strangely, even growing in size. The stitched leather top hat on the man's head fell onto the ground, along with the red bag slung over his shoulder, and he hunched down onto the ground, fingernails scratching against the rock path. The gang watched him in horror as his body grew in size and his features quickly became more wolf-like in appearance. A long tongue licked the black-furred lips, smacking as the now glowing blue eyes hungrily stared straight at the leader of the group. In less than a second, the Lycan leaped forward, pouncing on the shocked human. The man began to scream in agony and sheer terror as claws and teeth bore into his flesh, ripping it right from his body. Several of the gang members stumbled back and even fell on the ground as they watched their leader being devoured by this monstrous creature. Blood splattered and pooled on the path, crimson filling the cracks in-between the rocks. After taking several mouthfuls, leaving the corpse completely unrecognizable, the Lycan stood up on its hindlegs and turned towards the horrified humans. The mouth almost seemed to curl into a bloodied smile and the creature seemed to appear to be reverting back to its humanoid state. It growled in slight pain, but it was also mixed with pleasure and amusement. When he was finally in his human form, which was bare and exposed and covered in blood, his fingers brushed back his black hair and he stretched his muscles, cracking a few bones. Hatter picked up the top-hat, placed it on his head, and walked over to his red bag, opening it up and pulling out clothing. While he changed, acting as if nothing that surprising or big just occurred, the man said, "Now wit' yer leader bitin' the dust, hopefully ya'll learned the lesson and we can get ta business, ya?

The man slipped on his spare pair of leather pants and put the studded belt through the loops. He added, whilst picking up one of his three canes, "From my understandin', ya'll deal lots of drugs and head the brassies in the area, ya? Well, me an' my gang wants in on the... eh, whaddya'll call it? The dough? Ya, thazit. We are gonna take over and run things from now on, got it? You'll be servin' us. Oh, and this be our territory now. And-" One of the men fumbled at his gun and started to turn off the safety. Without even looking his way, Hatter lifted up his cane, aimed it straight at the man, and pulled out a hidden trigger. With the swift movement of his finger, a loud bang came from the disguised shotgun and the man yelled out. He proceeded to fall on the ground, a large hole in the middle of his chest, and the Lycan continued on completely un-phased, "just to clarify, I am the Mad Hatter, yer new boss. Now, unless ya want a clip like t'ose daws, I suggest ya get back ta business and do what ya'll do best, hm?"

All of the men scrambled and ran off, heading towards where their previous leader typically conducted business. The Hatter chuckled in amusement and pulled out a fag, lighting it up and talking a deep drag. The smoke released through his nose and the Lycan slipped on his leather boots, grabbing his finger-less gloves and putting them on. He then picked up his red duffelbag, slung it over his shoulder, and brought up his leather jacket, which was dripping with blood. Fortunately, there were no bullet holes in it so the Hatter strode over to the running fountain and soaked his coat within the water, washing away the crimson. It would not do if his favorite jacket got stained in blood, now would it? Hatter sucked on his cigarette, spitting it out on the ground when it was at its nub, and began to whistled jovially, satisfied with how tonight went. His pack would be pleased with his new achievement and for the new source of income. And the men certainly wouldn't mind playing around with the hussies. All-in-all, this was a damn good night and Hatter's spirits were high and bounding.

[Scrounge Freeman]

Scrounge Freeman

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Scrounge couldn't help but hang out with the wrong crowd; her parents had been drug addicts and alcoholics, so it was no surprise that she had joined a gang when she was younger and when one gets trapped into that kind of lifestyle, it can be hard to break out. That would be why she was still hanging out with the same kind of people, the kind that met late at night in odd places like King's Landing to smoke the latest drugs. Of course, Scrounge never had much access to money, so the only way to possibly obtain these drugs was by doing "favors" for people, usually by escorting. The problem with this was that Scrounge tended to be rather co-dependent and so she found herself actually getting attached to the men she hung out with. She couldn't help the fact that their attention was so foreign to her and thus so desirable. For once she felt wanted, and that feeling was something she would go all over the world for.

Gunner had been one of these men, but at the same time, he had been different. He was more of her boyfriend than a customer, really. Scrounge was closer to him them most others, mostly because he was the leader of the gang she was in and because he was a direct source for drugs. But Gunner was also a good source of protection; he himself was large and bulky, more than capable of standing up for her and making sure that she was okay if he so wished, not to mention the fact he had an entire gang at his back. There were many advantages associated with hanging out with him, to be sure. But it could also be frightening, considering the fact that he had the ability to kill her if he so wished and that everyone was constantly stepping on eggshells around him. All the same, Scrounge loved Gunner.

Today was really no different from the day before; Scrounge and Gunner were at the station smoking cigarettes and chatting with the rest of the guys. But she couldn't help but think how happy she was right now. Granted, the drugs she'd taken earlier probably had something to do with her good mood, but she felt happy. The rest of the guys seemed especially hilarious today, and Gunner seemed to be in a particularly good mood. She could tell that something important was going to happen today; it just felt like one of times where you could tell something interesting was going to happen. But right now she was content with how things were. It was all too easy to close her eyes and wrap her arms around Gunner.

Scrounge's arms slid off of him as he turned, and she stood for a moment, puzzled, before she realized the gang had moved to crowd around something. All at once she could tell it was not something but someone, for Gunner only bristled like that when there was someone here that didn't belong. Scrounge walked over to the gang and stood so as to see the man that was causing the commotion. She was surprised to see the man was possessing an almost arrogant expression on his face. Was he not aware that he was surrounded by men who were willing to tear him limb from limb if given the command from Gunner? Apparently not, because when Gunner barked at the stranger sharply, he did nothing more than release a chuckle, further angering Scrounge's boyfriend. She didn't quite catch what the intruder responded to her boyfriends inquisition as to whether he would like to die or not, but she got the basic idea. The guy was an idiotic smartass who didn't know his superiors when he saw them. Next thing she knew, Gunner was drawing his gun and had aimed it at the man's chest.

"Gunner-" Scrounge started to caution, moving to put a hand on his arm, but was too late, for he fired a bullet right into the other man's chest without even listening to her. "Gunner! What the fuck're you doing? Are you an idiot? He was a dipshit, but you didn't have to go and kill him! What if he's a member of a gang or something? What then?" she shouted, pushing him roughly, only to have Gunner step back a mere one time.

"I'll take 'em on. Look, Babe, don't worry 'bout it. That's my business, an' don't you speak 'at way t' me again, ya hear? Now, Babe, let me take care 'a things," he growled in response, quickly dismissing her with a roll of his eyes. Scrounge responded with a discontented huff, but suddenly gasped in fear and shock, for there before her very eye was the body of the stranger, and it was twitching.

The intruder was standing up now, and it had started to talk. That wasn't possible, was it? She hadn't seen that before, and she had seen plenty of strange things in her time, but she wasn't sure she had ever seen anything as strange as this. And then she watched with horror as the stranger's features contorted until he was a lycan. Her gang members were horrified because they hadn't seen anything like it, but she was horrified because she had, because she was one, and because she knew what they could do. "Oh, fuck no," Scrounge muttered, stumbling backwards as she saw the creature leap into the air towards her boyfriend. The beast seemed to move in slow motion, gliding through the air towards Gunner and making contact with his body slowly, shoving her leader to the ground and tearing into him with vicious claws and wicked teeth. Blood-curdling shrieks ripped through the air, barely registered by Scrounge, who was the only gang member who was still standing normally now.

Once the lycan was finished, he stood back up and turned his large head towards the humans and seemed to bare his teeth in a bloody grin. He turned back into a human and then, as if nothing had ever happened, got himself dressed again. But Scrounge still had not moved. She stood standing where she had stopped, her expression blank and unreadable as her mind struggled to fully comprehend what had just happened. Most of the gang members had now dispersed, but a few came over and rubbed her shoulder, and warily told her that she should probably move away from the lycan.

"Gunner?" called Scrounge softly, like a lamb bleating after its mother after it has seen it be killed by a wolf. She took and unsteady step forward, looking like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Gunner?!" she question once more, only this time with more urgency. Scrounge stumbled forward, kneeling down by Gunner's body once she reached it. "GUNNER!" GUNNER! NO! No! I- No, not you. Not you," she sobbed, resting her hands where the face might have once been. He was gone. She had loved him so much, more than she had loved anyone. And he had loved her when no one else had. Scrounge brought her shaking hands to her lips and shut her eyes, her back shaking with the sobs that came involuntarily. And then she was done. She stood up, collected herself, and glared icily and the stranger whom had taken her boyfriend's life. Normally she would have been eager to meet someone knew and probably would have appreciated his upbeat attitude, but he had ruined anything like that by killing Gunner.

"You bastard. You killed Gunner. You don't stop and think, do you? Everyone has someone that loves them. He was my someone, and I was his. You ruined that. I hope you rot in a stinking, filthy, miserable hole. I hope you die. Be- because you're a fucking asshole, you know that? No, you're not that good. You're something worse. I don't know what, but you're that,"[/color] Scrounge hissed, walking over to the werewolf. "Don't you ever touch anyone I love because I will tear you apart. You're not the only big bad wolf here, buddy. Don't forget it."[/color]
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[Sebastian Lathan Gallahue]

The Hatter continued to scrub his specially designed, one-of-a-kind leather jacket while whistling a happy, carefree, little tune. When he heard the sobbing, the man simply blew harder and pushed out the weeping sound from his mind. Perhaps it was because of his sociopathic nature that allowed him to ignore such a pained sound or the fact that in his childhood he had heard it so often that he had to block it out for his sanity (although, many contemplate and question if he was ever completely right in the head.) It was not until a voice was directed right at him that the man blinked.

"Hn?" he sounded, bringing up his jacket and shaking away the water, proceeding to carefully lay it on the dry blocks of the fountain. "Twas that ta me?

The man turned around and saw a woman standing before him, shaking in rage, tears of fury and devastation staining her cheeks. He simply listened to her outburst to him, staring straight at her with those blinking crystalline orbs. Oh, so the gang leader's name had been Gunner, huh? And this chick was... well, had once been his girlfriend? A glint of amusement shone in his eyes and he could not help but give a humoured grin. What an interesting turn of events! The night was already going rather well and now it was just getting better. Once she was finished, the man took off his top-hat and toyed with it, saying, "Ah, so that be the smell. I thought I sniffed a familiar whiff earlier." He then raised his head up and sniffed loudly, making sure it was audible. His eyes went back to hers and he said with a chuckle, "And what a smashin' smell it be~"

The Lycan twirled the hat with his fingers as he began to walk around the woman in a circle, his eyes glancing up and down her form. Good-looking, fit, strong, yet with orbs that screamed abuse, neglect, and codependency among that searing anger (something he could easily see since he lived through hell himself as a child)... she was the perfect kind of woman. Not just woman, but person in general. That rage she aimed at him sent shivers of delight down his spine. Oh, the fun he could have with this one, the potential~! And he had not even hurt her intentionally. This was all so very wonderfully coincidental. Could this evening possibly get any better?

He tilted his head and asked, "I am in me wick! The wan? Of tat wogger?" The man shook his head and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. "A namby pamby mallet head like 'im shouldn't be scorin' a flah like you!"

"And me? Ruin that?!" Hatter placed his free hand on his chest and his boots skid to a stop, swiveling so that he was facing the woman. "Now now, birdie, if I remember right, tat amadán threw shapes and, why, he took shots at me. I just be defendin' myself and makin' clear who ta real alpha is. How that be wrong?"

He purred at her, egging the woman on, "Come on. Keep comin' up wit' words. You were just startin'. Ya may get somethin' good~ Maybe make a tear or two escape me eyes."

The man gave a chuckle at her aggression aimed at him. It only gave the sadistic sociopath pleasure. All he wanted to do now was to toy with this woman, who intrigued him so. It was a rare occurrence that he wanted to add a new member to his gang, but something about this woman told him that she could be a potentially good fit. All he needed to do was manipulate her and twist her mind and emotions so that she would eventually think she needed him, that he helped free her from that man who clearly used the woman. He was curious as to how many unhealthy relationships she had been in, how many men used her and she just clung to them because she did not know how to be on her own. Just how long had she been living such a codependent lifestyle? Considering the amount of people, particularly females, he knew that were like this, the Lycan suspected her entire life. The more severe cases of it tended to derive from those that were abused and neglected all of their lives. In a way, even the Hatter was like this. Just as much as his pack needed him, if not more, he relied on them to survive.

Being a sado-maso, Sebastian could also not deny that he was not entirely different from the type of men who this other Lycan clung to. He used plenty of people, killed often, did whatever the hell he wanted when he so desired, was a criminal of many different kinds... The Hatter was most certainly not a good man. But the one redeeming quality of his was that he had a fierce loyalty towards his pack. There was nothing he would not do for his gang members. Hell, he would fight for the death for them. Hatter had various relationships, but he treated all of those men and women right (unless it was of the... forceful variety.) What was his was always his and he was careful with his belongings. Each one was different and could never be fully replaced. Sebastian was abusive towards the world, but his hands never struck the things he cared about, lest he break them. While his father was mostly in prison during his childhood, the few times he came back home, the man would drink and beat his mother, his siblings, and himself. Even while being sadistic and taking pleasure in other people's pain and misery, the Hatter could not bear to abuse those few things and people he held dear to his heart. He simply could not do it.

A smooth, black brow curved upwards while the other furrowed, his light orbs eyeing her. There was less devilish amusement in them and more curiosity and even a slight hint of softness. The man took a step forward and said, "I find it hard ta believe that ya loved him. I mean, really loved tat scut. Was he really all that different from da others? Nah. He just saw ya as a twang. Maybe he didn' hit ya as much, or, hell, even at all, but it's a load of shite tat he treated ya right, respected ya, and loved ya. Denyin' it is pointless 'cuz you and me both know da truth."

"And about ye wee threat ya aimed at me earlier,"The Lycan then walked forward and stopped within a foot from her form. The man leaned closer, cupping the tip of her chin with his forefinger, and said in a low-voice, "It ain't too wise to threaten a fella' if yer full of wind and piss. Ye better be able to back yer word or else you'll get fucked in yer arse." Hatter leaned away and dropped his hand, taking a few steps back. He placed his hat back on his head and placed the tips of his fingers on the two Beretta M93R's on either side of his hips. The man did not necessarily do this in a threatening manner, more like in a way that simply showed that the weapons were there. Sebastian tilted his head. "Also, ye should know who ya can and can't screw with... at least, in the manner you were speakin' about. Now if it's about ta Bold Thing, then it be a little different. Although, not really, I suppose. Different for me would be a better way of puttin' it."

The man gave the woman a grin and nodded his head, giving her a playful and almost inviting wink. "Now I personally wouldn't mind doin' a line with ya. I'd certainly be better than all ta rest. I ain't a complete prick and certainly don't raise me hand to a wolf I have a likin' to. And, not ta brag or nuthin', but I'm a dab hand in t'ose manners, that I am."

Sebastian did not expect the female Lycan to exactly respond happily to him or accept him right away. In fact, it was much more likely she would retort and try to fight him. He was just ruffling her up. The woman needed to blow some steam to do her some good... that, and her doing so would prove to amuse him immensely. Hatter always enjoyed a good fight and mindfuck, that he did.

[Scrounge Freeman]

Scrounge Freeman

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Scrounge stood, her hands in tight fists and her feet spread out as if to provide stability, though it was likely just to look more intimidating, even though it was unlikely that this woman would ever intimidate the killer in front of her. She was minutely aware of this as she exhaled angrily, aware because as he spoke he kept the same relaxed and playful tone he had before, and that led her to believe that he definitely had some power or influence that she didn't know about. Yes, she was absolutely positive that he was a dangerous man, but just because he was didn't mean she was going to let him fuck with her; she would stand up to him like the reckless creature she was. Of course, Scrounge wasn't exactly great at making sure men didn't screw her over, but this was a bit different; she didn't know this man. He was a stranger, not someone she loved.

Scrounge wasn't quite sure why loving someone made the difference, but she knew that it did. In those cases, often times what happened was her fault because she aggravated them. After all, it seemed a coincidence that so many men had treated her the same way, thus the problem could not possibly be them, but it had to lie in her. But this man, she hadn't done anything; she hadn't ever seen him before in her life. So this time maybe it wasn't her fault, maybe it was the fault of this man and this man only. At the same time, a shadow of doubt crept into her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she had indirectly caused this too.

The man turned around and was starting at her with a most sadistic grin displayed upon his face; he seemed to be amused at her misery, which instantly made her more wary. Between his grin and then him sniffing the air for her scent, Scrounge wasn't sure which she found more disturbing and frightening. But the worst thing he could have done was exactly what he did. The stranger walked in a full circle around her, sizing her up and looking her over. Scrounge didn't mind the searching look as much as she minded the way he walked around her almost as if he was thinking of buying her. She'd had men do that before, but that was when they were paying her cash to hang out with them. This man wasn't going to pay her, and she wasn't sure what his intentions were, either. But what really bothered her was when he started insulting Gunner.

Scrounge instantly bristled, her eyes narrowing and her chin tilting upwards as she inhaled sharply. The man's body wasn't even cold yet and he was being talked about as if he were trash? Granted, there wasn't much of a body left, but it was still Gunner. "Don't try to flatter me. I don't know what you're trying to get out of me, but I can tell you one thing: you're doing it the wrong way. He's just been dead for about five minutes. Don't speak about him like that," she hissed icily, crossing her arms and turning her head away for a moment, taking deep breaths. She had cried for Gunner, she had shed the tears, but somehow she didn't register it yet. And once she did she was sure to be scrambling, for how could she, a co-dependent person, cope without the only other human being that she was really close to? Truth was, she probably couldn't. Instead, she'd likely practically be scrambling for something to cling on to. It was those moments of scrambling when Scrounge truly was at her worst, for it was in those moments that she would do anything for attention.

The following moments left her gasping for breath, and all at the fault of a few utterances by the killer. When he had first started speaking about love she had quickly become angered again, assuming that he'd be talking about how Gunner wasn't worthy for her, as the man had before. And her initial reaction to this was outrage at the thought that this man thought he could tell her who she could love and who she couldn't. But now she saw what nerve was aiming at, and she slowly felt the full force of the blow hit her. Somehow he had known what her life was like, had seen her and knew exactly what she had been through. Scrounge instinctively looked down at her arms to make sure that they were fully covered, hiding her scars, and was surprised to find out that they were. How, then, did he know? There was only one thing that was wrong with what he assumed; Scrounge had loved Gunner. She shouldn't have, but she did. She needed some stability, needed someone dependable that she could cling to and fall back on. Gunner was that for her. And she needed that love. Or, at least, she thought she did.

It was her own cautious mind that kept her from doing what she so badly wanted to. It was an extreme amount of self restraint that kept her from going and attacking him, and the main reason she didn't was because she felt like there were too many 'ifs' about this man. She had seen Gunner torn apart, and she wasn't about to make the same mistake he did. She would be as calm as she could for now and try to ignore her boyfriend's killer, or at least his jeering comments, for now. Letting herself transform right now would be a decidedly bad idea, considering she didn't want to be left naked and bare in front of the killer. A more diplomatic approach would probably be the best, though it was with a displeased look that she turned to lock eyes with the other Lycan.

"I don't even know how you know that about me. I don't want to know. But I do know that you're wrong about many things, you little shit. One, I loved Gunner. You can call me a liar all you want, but I loved Gunner more than... more than anything. I haven't ever loved anything like I loved Gunner. And my threats aren't full of hot air. I wouldn't mind grinding your face into this very floor. But not today. Not today," Scrounge murmured, her mouth still pulled into a deep frown and her voice clearly meaning everything she said. Of course, the thing is, Scrounge felt like she loved Gunner. She certainly was emotionally attached to Gunner. But truly she hadn't ever really felt love before. Love was something more than what she had. She had never felt the intensely floating, happy feeling unless she was high, and that certainly wasn't real love. There was an emptiness there in Scrounge, one that she tried to pretend wasn't there. There was a heart-shaped hole in Scrounge's chest, one that she randomly tried shoving people into, even though their shapes never fit. [/blockquote]