#crimetimefox

“Oh, hey Greggo. Having a good snooze?”

As he greets his friend, the scenario changes around them. One city shifts to another, and he’s left standing across a street from a clothing store. He pauses, recognition flashing in his eyes. “Hoo boy, Gregg, you’re in for a treat!”

Despite the sudden... changes, he’d adapted to the situation pretty well. Turns out that after you’ve been dumped off into a new world once before, it loses it’s charm when it happens again.

The whole ‘having hair and flesh’ thing was pretty new. And itchy. And the whole mixed kingdoms thing with different creatures all fighting eachother, that was... something. At least the merfolk in his area seemed pleasant. Their singing was something nice to listen to, but even then he needed a fucking break from being around people.

Being near the border, there was a heightened aggression to the other kingdoms, but at least it was less populated, especially near the middle where the giant fuck-you tree stood. Thankfully, down by the river, it was relatively quiet, with the burble of the stream keeping it from that god-awful dead silence--

Splash.

Standing up suddenly at the sound of water being kicked around, a quick glance around told him all he needed to know.

“You!” More an exclamation of surprise. This whole place got turned upside down, and this guy was just here doing what?

It was a battlefield for sure. Venom Snake, however, was never more at home than he was in combat. Dirt, blood, and sweat were the smells that often caked him when he came back from a sortie. This time, however, he had no sortie to return from.

Zipping through the battlefield as his Battle Gear engaged larger threats, he used his Parasite Suit to the fullest, the reinforced armor enhancing his durability, the mist confusing his targets for an easy strike, and the cloaking allowed precise sneak attacks. Sometimes, however, direct engagement was necessary. He braces himself, before launching his signature Rocket Fist and steering it expertly through the field, right over the head of one fox man and socking a larger opponent right in the face with superhuman force. It ricocheted off and rolled on the ground as Snake slid under a projectile attack and recovered it, sticking it back on his arm.

"I got your back."

(What is it about me and bearing witness to crimes?)

A shop left unattended is suspicious enough, especially at this time of night. More suspicious is the shop’s sole patron, a fox with a container of lamp oil in his paws. He’s never seen this guy around before; could he be from one of the other kingdoms?

Truce or not, stealing is illegal. Even if Phoenix wasn’t playing the part of a knight, he’s still a man of the law.

“Whatever this is, it’s pretty good. That guy was pretty friendly too...” He thinks to himself as he chews. He’s careful to watch out for ne’er do wells in this part of the area. It was darker and less lit than the others. If thieves or other criminals looking for ciminal business were about, it would probably be here.

He squints at somebody rustling around in the dark. He hasn’t yet learned about his magical spells or his cool dragon powers, but he could still make out things in the dark pretty well.

“I’d be careful about running around in the dark, somebody might think you’re up to know good.”

Reserved!

Send me a ✧ and I’ll introduce you to one of all the muses I ever had.

The splat of blood hitting the ground in wet globs fills the thick, suffocating foggy air of the otherwise empty street, the night muffling the sound and yet it’s terror sounded loud, beckoning to all who might be in earshot.

Father Gascoigne let out a snort, phlegm and saliva that had built up in his throat gurgling the sound. Drool slicked the enlongated jaws, filling rows of sharp canine teeth. 

He was changing. He knew this. Mouth too wide, too many teeth. The blood he had consumed was still heavy on his tongue, the iron taste filling his senses. He wanted more. Needed more. Addicted to the smell, the sensation of flesh tearing, the dying screams. The hunt. 

Yes... He was a Hunter. Hunters needed to hunt, they craved it above all things. Losing oneself in cleansing the streets of foul Beasts, how... easy it was to succumb to the Beasthood itself. 

“Ah...” The blood was finally working. Bones cracked as his snout soon pushed back into his face, forming something akin to a human appearance once more. How amazing this miracle blood was... Soothing his pain, healing the gashes of clawmarks that had gouged his side. The damage still remained, clothes torn, blood soaked through, but it was nothing a little love in the form of a needle and thread couldn’t fix.