Teenage Dirtbag

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---------------------------------------------------------------"Teenage Dirtbag Serial Killer In The Making" ---------------------------------------------------------------
(Rank-Up Mission Piece!)

It'd gotten cold out, much to cold for the Gray-Scale male's liking. Bleck... Frankly, if we're being blunt. He down right despised it.
But shit, atleast he had something to do now. Vince had given him the opportunity to rank once more, and in order to do so.. He had to come face to face with humans again for the first time in a long time.
As wonderful as ranking sounded, he was quit hesitant on this one.. The usually calm, collected male was boiling on the inside. That was the only thing making this god-awful cold bearable. His blood was coursing, heart pounding as paws carried him through the ever thickening snow.
His mission today, was to rescue a dog from the clutches on a teenagers pointless wrath.

Such a concept baffled him. He knew well enough that life wasn't rainbows and happiness, it was dark. Cruel, and ruthless. But it always seemed like no creature compared to the hateful acts Humans took on. As if the world was nothing but a toy box... It's inhabitants made of plastic, disposable, replaceable. To do with what they see fit then throw away.
It was disgusting. And boy did it work his nerves... It braught out a core part of his subconscious that usually remained locked away. Controlled. But now? Well.. He wasn't so sure control would hold.

Guaged ears fell flat at the sound of whines in the distance. His pace quickened, plowing him through the cold that bite at his nose. Lips found themselves curling to a Gun Shot.
One... Two... A cry of a dog, then three... four... five... another cry. Silver gaze burned with icy rage, a growl echoing out in response to what sounded like the heathen giggling in devilish satisfaction.

As he came into view, the limping cowardly canine was spotted first. Hunched, tail tucked and bleeding against the white ground below as he slunk away. Then the boy... Tall, grungy. Dressed in dark torn pants that hung far to low. A jacket hung open over nothing but a tanktop.  And is his hands... Was a Bebe Gun. A rifle. Aimed again at the stray, he held it firm against his shoulder, dark brown airs peering down the sight scope. He paused at the sight of Ghost motioning through his sights. He lowered his gun, but before he could even reaction beyond a scowl, Ghost took to thrusting off the snow. Plowing with as much force as he could right into the bow. Teeth locked around the gun as he hit, shoving it back right against the boy, and forcing the two to slam to the ground. 

Ghost yanked at the weapon, a fit of growls escaping as he launched off the boy and jerked the gun from his grasp. As simple as it was to relieve the insane child of his torture device, it wouldn't be so easy to... well, finish... Certainly killing the boy was the easiest way out, and god the joy it'd bring him to do so.... Infact, it took every fiber of his being
NOT to kill him... But he knew that wasn't wise. It'd stir up problems. If you kill one, it brings many more. This alone was more attention than they needed.

So instead, he spun, and he ran. Forcing the deviant child to follow. Cursing, hollering at the gray-scale canine. He ran until he'd made it to the lake. Paws anchored into the snow below, head spinning back to set gaze on the kid as he ran to catch up. Gun was dropped on the frozen shoreline, and Ghost turned. Face blank, unpredictable. The teenager finally slowed several feet off, hunching over, his hands on his knees as he gasped to catch his breath.

And then.. Just as he rose to stand and walk forward, Ghost kicked back and slung the rifle across the frozen surface. It slid with ease along the top of the chilled water and slowly came to a stop. Ghost perked his guaged ears and growled, baring canines and snapping out at nothing. The boy jumped, startled, but tried to act as though he wasn't afraid. Tucking his hand in his pocket, he'd sling out a knife. Hollering more curse words and threats before slashing out at Ghost. Ghost's eyes widened, head swinging back and to the side in attempt to avoid the slashing teenager. But the sharp blade caught his shoulder. With that contact, maw spun to meet the boys arm. Teeth clamping down around his shoulder.

He sunk it, fast.. harsh.. for barely a second. Before realizing what he was doing. Luckily enough the stupid child was wearing a jacket. He barely broke skin, but the force of his bite was enough to bend the boys arm and force him to the ground. Or rather... right onto the ice.

The knife slid from his grasp, and the teenager hollered out in pain from the impact against the ice. It cracked, shattered benieth his knees as he hit. But it hadn't yet broken beneath him. Lucky fuck. Ghost's front paws were the only things on the ice, he slipped a bit but quickly recovered himself. The chill of the wind stung his fresh wound, but it was nothing he couldn't ignore.

With a snort Ghost turned and sauntered off back to the stray, leaving the boy grumbling and groaning. Gathering up his knife and scurring to the shore. Debating whether or not he'd attempt to get his gun.

Frankly... I dare him.. The ice was far to thin the farther out you went, he'd end up falling right through. Bahaha. Fucker. He deserved it... With a light limp, Ghost hobbled his way back. The poor beaten stray suffered a couple bebe bullet wounds, but they weren't deep. Apart from some bruised ribs from being kicked, he was ok. Ok enough to haul back to Trieste.

Fucking bastard teenager.