"What are you, man!" one screamed, holding where his arm had been, black blood gushing everywhere.
"I'm the brother who told your ass that I was not in the frame," Carlos said through a snarl, then instantly lunged and sliced through the entity's windpipe with the bone dagger.
Bloodlust and moonlight madness filled him as the entities tried to flee. Their backs were a target, that was all he could see, the place where their skulls ended and their spines began. He claimed that anatomy with sudden, ruthless fury, two at a time, leaving quivering, twitching forms on the dank alley ground and using the gore to strangle another that fell gasping.
"Take it back," Carlos said in a low growl, standing up from the lifeless form beneath him that he'd beheaded with vertebrae. Leaving smoldering ash at his feet, Carlos advanced to where three remaining vampires cowered behind a Dumpster and snarled with a spit of fury against the ground.
"Okay, okay," one called out. "She ain't no bitch!"
"Then what is she?" Carlos yelled, overturning the Dumpster and watching his burning gaze sizzle against the speaker's chest. "Tell me!"
"She's a queen!" the entity screamed, trying to put his hands in front of the smoldering area, which only ignited his arms and hands.
"Do I look like I need a f**king blade or shield?" Carlos shouted, sending a silver bolt of energy to fillet the entity's chest and expose his heart, searing away skin and snapping back breastbone and ribs one at a time. "I'm just coming out of an apex, motherfucker--do you know who I am?"
"Naw, man, shit... you don't need nothin'.... You da weapon, boss," another one said, breaking down into sobs. "We was just playing, man. Ease up. We ain't know you was still holding Council powers!"
"I'm holding a lot of deep shit," Carlos whispered, his tone deadly. "Got a lotta pent up aggression tonight. You wanted to play... let's play."
"Neterus ain't supposed to be able to do that shit, enjoying it, too!" the other said, covering his head as the two vamps huddled against the wall watched their howling comrade's heart burn.
Carlos tore a metal panel away from the Dumpster and folded it over into a wide, sharp-edged instrument of death. "A lotta shit ain't what it's supposed to be these days or nights," he said evenly, then hurled the metal like a discus, severing two heads against the wall.
The alley became eerily silent, save the hum of compressors. Carlos rolled his shoulders and spit on the ground again, still too hyped to normalize. A Level-Seven pulse was in the air. He could feel it, taste it, knew it like he knew his name. The bodies around him had slowly combusted into cinders one by one after each death blow had been dealt, and he stood wide-legged surveying the carnage of splattered guts and ash, a strange sense of satisfaction overtaking him. "Anybody else feel like playing tonight?" Carlos asked the darkness, hoping a werewolf pack or something stronger might lunge at him while the rush of adrenaline was still coursing through him.
Yonnie slid out of a corner, and Carlos whirred on him breathing hard.
"Yo, yo, yo!" Yonnie said quickly, holding up two hands in front of his chest. "It's me--drop the silver shit before you torch a brother."
Carlos rubbed the back of his neck and spit, trying to get the taste of sulfur off his palate and sending his gaze elsewhere.
"Felt good, didn't it?" Yonnie said with a sly smile. "Got the juices flowing."
"Like old times," Carlos muttered. "Nothing like it." "Yeah, well... I was gonna double back and get in it, but figured you needed this."
Carlos gave him a sidelong glance and a half-smile. "I did, man."
Yonnie nodded. "Cool." He began walking though the piles of ash, chuckling. "Damn, man... but lemme ask you this--did you feel a communications dropout between us for a minute, or was it me?"
The two friends stared at each other for a moment.
"Naw, man, I felt it, too," Carlos finally admitted. "Maybe 'cause I was spiking pure Neteru fury, you couldn't pick me up... or maybe 'cause I really needed to do this myself?"
"Yeah, maybe," Yonnie said with a concerned glance as he stared at the remnants of the battle. "But like I said earlier, there's some real strange energy out here. Soon as we broke connection, I doubled back just to check on a brother. Feel me?"
Carlos nodded. "I hear you." He let out a hard sigh. "Just wish there were some Masters left to keep it interesting. This wasn't shit."
In an odd way, he could understand where Damali was at. There was nothing left to kill, nothing of real consequence left to fight. He could only hope that's what was making her battle herself--a worthy adversary. Maybe that had something to do with why she was battling him. There was too much to think about. Right now, he was simply out for blood.
Yonnie calmly stepped back and became very still. "There is one left," he remarked calmly. "Me. But you ain't going Neteru loco on me, right? We still cool, man, or did something change that I need to know about?"
Carlos gave his friend a sidelong glance and smiled with battle-length fangs still in his mouth. "C'mon, brother. What kinda question is that? You family. We peace til the end."
Yonnie straightened the lapels of his black Armani suit. "Just checking, 'cause twenty-to-one as a ratio... hey... they mighta been lower-gens, but that's still some shit to consider. Major props." He gave Carlos a once-over. "You'd better have Marlene purge all them nicks, man, I'm serious. You got cut up pretty bad."
Carlos smiled. "I'ma show you some Neteru shit I ain't even showed D, yet," he said with a wink, extending his arm that was badly lacerated. "Check this out... male Net purge."
Yonnie stood where he was, not moving, and gazed at Carlos's ripped chest, his torn, bloodied jeans, and then focused on the gashes in Carlos's arms. But he didn't speak as Carlos closed his eyes and the blood running from the wounds suddenly went silver.