[ti]Private[/ti]Control

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Hunter Rogue

---

Vulture's pawsteps were light against the hard stone ground of Vauxhall Station as the tom prowled back from a hunting trip. His idea of hunting was evident in the scrap of unidentifiable meat dangling from his jaws. Prey blood clung to his shoulder fur but it was days dry-- not that anyone could tell from his scent. His stench butted against that of the station. Both were putrid, though his carried the scents of garbage and rotting flesh while the station had only metal and general clutter to offer.

Skulking along with one flattened ear, the rogue clearly couldn't care less about the mess of his appearance. He threw glares. He slouched as much as possible without looking submissive to anyone. On his way back to the rotting den the rogues group now called home, Vulture was finally resolved. He would find someone that respected him enough to do what he said. He would find someone or he would make someone, outside or inside of the group. Even Chocolette, a cat he'd had access to since she was a tiny kit, had a troublemaker's spirit. He was sure it was only a matter of time before the young fighter forgot he was her brother entirely, if she didn't just forget he existed. Vulture caught sight of a cat out of the corner of his eye as he passed.

He'd seen this she-cat multiple times around the den, and before that around the alley and just around the town. She had been one of the cats that interested him as a kit. Perhaps even one of the cats to teach him how to walk with a high head or creep toward prey, though she didn't know it. But he wasn't a kit now. He was a full-grown cat, an adult, capable of making cats do what he wanted. Maybe it was pent-up frustration that fueled his desire to order others around. Maybe it was simply a selfish wish for his surroundings to be predictable. Vulture didn't know and he didn't care. Powerful cats were cats that could control others, and he wanted desperately to be a powerful cat.

It was with a hunting mindset still that Vulture approached the blue she-cat. Maybe he had imagined it, but he could swear he saw her disapproving gaze on him once as he carried around something that he called food. Vulture wandered over there now, carrying his shred, and sat right beside her to test her. He didn't expect he'd win if it came to fighting, but he also didn't expect things would get that far. He'd pull out whatever tricks he needed; posturing, stares, or good old-fashioned hisses and growls. Verbal mastery was a tool he'd found incompatible with his particular style of communication, but nearly everything else was within his capabilities. "Move over," he grunted.

---

[LupTacco]

-:: BLUEBIRD ::-

    It simply wasn't proper, her being utilized so little and the complete lack of utilization of others on her own part. Where had she gone wrong? At what point did she slip up? Who was the last cat she'd ever had in her paws, who now would gladly step in front of a monster for her aside from maybe some estranged family she didn't care to acknowledge? I'm a failure at my own game, she lashed her tail, her mind full of bitter thoughts. Fresh prey meant nothing to her now. Just yesterday she had nibbled on a wedge of some starchy tan and white thing, not even a meat at all. Under her fur, her frame was increasingly bony and weak, her olive eyes tired and dull. Ever since Honeyheart had her children, the blue she-cat felt that her role could never rise here, but to leave was to admit defeat. Low as I may fall, I never lose. She dug her claws into the earth, narrowing her eyes. No, she would stay. Even if out of pure spite for the world and its repeated attempts to humiliate her, she would stay here and be trampled on by someone else's loyal children, be ordered around or left to do nothing as a family of dutiful cats thrived around her as if she didn't matter.

    She was so absorbed in her personal tirade that she didn't even notice Vulture at first as he swaggered his way over. Not until his foul-smelling pelt was near enough to assault her senses did she bother to look up, but even then she was prepared to simply glare at him and get on with sitting here for the rest of the day. That is, until he gruffly dared to boss her around. 'Move over'!? The nerve of the little- She paused her internal rant. He must be pretty desperate, clearly not grooming himself much nor socializing even though his family was everywhere. Was he like her, then? Cast aside? She squinted at him thoughtfully, eventually muttering, "Yeah, kid, whatever. Don't wanna smell you anymore anyway." She shifted over about a half tail-length, wrinkling her lip at the ragged scrap of prey he had brought along. Is that even an animal? It looks like shoe leather. Even so, he could be of use. She needed all the allies she could get, and if that meant pretending to defer to some soft-furred brat, so be it.

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Hunter Rogue

---

Vulture fought to keep his fur flat in his frustration. It was a battle he won more often than he lost now, far from the days of the 'kid' whose first language was body language despite him being largely oblivious to it. That was what she had called him, wasn't it? A kid? He swallowed hard and straightened out. An inherently crooked position held onto him, but now he was sitting crookedly taller. "My name's Vulture."

The tom glanced at her up close, then looked away, then glanced back. She was thin; a weakness. If there was one thing other than prey that Vulture knew how to pounce on, it was weakness. He could count them in his mind now. He had followed her before while she probably didn't even know his name. Or at least, she wouldn't have before he'd told her. She seemed more alone than he was. She didn't look as scary. "I can see your ribs, Bluebird," he mumbled in a gravelly tone. "Not great for a hunter."

He paused, then tore a shred from his scrap and tossed it at her. Slightly narrowed blue eyes watched closely. "Eat up."

---

[LupTacco]

Bluebird narrowed her eyes at his request- no, actually, that was an order wasn't it? Had she fallen that low? Or was he just testing how far he could push it? And for that matter, he was going above his station- it was nobody's business how slim she was. Even so, the growl in her stomach echoed in her mind as the scent of the red piece of some sort of former animal reached her nose. In her heyday, this too would have been beneath her, but the fog in her mind chanted simply to eat. And after all, sometimes one had to feign acquiescence to gain the upper hand; just because this had failed with Honeyheart, didn't mean it couldn't work now. Taking a deep breath, she shot an acidic glance at the young tom, muttering her answer tersely, "Fine."

The scrap was... not especially good, but in her hungered state it may as well have been a fresh vole. She licked her chops clean and sat back up, drawing a paw over her muzzle in satisfaction. Her mind cleared, but she almost forgot about Vulture beside her until she caught his blue gaze in the corner of her eye. "What else do you want? You've already humiliated me the allotted number of times for today," she growled, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Hunter Rogue

---

Vulture shook his head, meeting her narrowed eyes with his own. "I gave you company and food," he corrected. The rogue stretched and stalked around the she-cat in a wide circle, looking her up and down. "More than you could do."
A nasty glimmer hid in his eyes. It was a twisted kind of joy; the joy of a kit that had beckoned, "Come closer... closer!" to see how long he could keep a cat waiting for his whisper. That trick had gotten him cuffed around the ears many times, but it was always the best part of his day nonetheless.

The tom's paws soon slowed to a stop. Time to see if he could do it. There was a moment of quiet, then, "Come hunting with me."
He flicked his tail toward himself and narrowed his eyes at Bluebird. The glint was gone from them now, leaving them unreadable as anything more than an undefined threat. The tom prowled closer. His next words took a while to emerge and seemed to be more of an afterthought. "Or... do I tell Honey you're not doing your job?"

---