Sick Like Me

A low growl echoed in Cadaver's chest as he watched Illusion approaching with righteous fury painted across her face. Her words, sharp and venomous, seared through his indifference much like the sweltering heat of their surroundings. A bitter smile twisted his lips. “Stop playing the victim, Illusion.” His gaze pinned her down, a predator sizing up its prey. He was not untouched by her frustrations, her fear. But sympathy was not in his nature. He was a creature built for survival and dominance; emotions were just distractions. But the more hate she spewed at him- the more blatant disrespect- the more furious he became.

There was a burning sensation in his chest, a fire that seemed to spread with every word she uttered. Cadaver's lips pulled back into a snarl, showcasing his sharp, gleaming fangs. With each accusation, he fought the urge to snap at his sister, to silence her foolishness. You were supposed to be my favorite. I was supposed to be yours. And with that, he could no longer hold himself back. Using the bulk of his much larger form to his advantage, Cadaver lunged at his beloved sister without warning. The air rippled with tension as he bore down on her, his shifting momentum scattering pebbles around them. With his right shoulder he aimed to hit her square in the chest, hoping to knock her off balance. At the same time- with splayed jaws, he aimed to strike the side of her neck- to try and leverage a hold to force her to the ground.

Nobody would talk to him like that. Especially not Illusion.

"Cadaver Nightwing"