There Are Some Things You Can't Shift Out Of (open

[scythe]

His feet instantly followed the directions of the man moving easily through the halls. He'd noticed the slight change of size and weight in the man but he decided not to say anything. Speak, whisper, communicate. The directions led him right to a door and like instructed he set the man down.

The way to the room wasn't all that hard to remember and no one was really out and about at this time. It would be simple to come here again to investigate. His hands delved into his pockets as he watched the man. Sure he could have just walked away but then he might miss the really interesting part. Intriguing, engaging, alluring. Dark eyes never leaving the man he took in every movement, every breath. Something lay behind that door, or a door beyond that door. Something worth almost dying over. That was what had him glued to the spot eyes focused intently.

[casey]

Now's when the game would end.

Casey slid out of the man's arms, and quickly inputted the code into the correct key pad. A light above the door blazed green, then the door slid open...

revealing several men, all armed to the teeth.

"Get down!" one shouted, surging forward. A grenade was thrown, gas leaking everywhere.

Casey stumbled into the arms of the closest Agent, looking up at the man who'd just carried him here. The shapeshifter hadn't been stupid or foolish. Anyone who refused to give a name or a purpose was hiding something. Besides, everyone knew that no good deed went unpunished.

Casey simply couldn't let someone wander the schools that had no identity. It was too much a danger to everyone.

"Sorry," he croaked, wincing. The man was surrounded now, and the Agents weren't about to give in easy. The gas filled the air, and Casey coughed a few times, until they set a mask over his face.

[scythe]

The code entered his mind but what registered more was the fact that armed men were waiting for him on the other side of the door. When had the man alerted them? A code of some sort when they first entered the building? His eyes followed the gas grenade in annoyance. He hated knock out gas. Loathe, despise, detest. The men surrounded him and the man he'd helped apologized. Thing was he didn't take apologies especially when this was the first decent thing he'd done in years.

The gas made his eye lids heavy and his limbs feel like they were filled with sand. Hands still in his pockets he glanced around at the men and their weapons. Tools, knives, armament. There were so many questions in dealing with this situation but only one question would be answered. Could he just walk away? Would he fight? Would he just do as they said? More importantly would he kill?

It wasn't like he'd trusted the man but he did regret not eating him. If he just tried to walk away they'd stop him surely, and following their orders was just so against his nature. Plus it was boring.Dull, droll, drab. Not taking his hands out of his pockets or his eyes off of the pathetic man who just signed his own death warrant in his mind. He swept his leg up and slammed the back of his heel into a man's masked face. Time for the games to begin.

[casey]

The man certainly did a number on the poor Agent he'd kicked. the guy went flying, crumpling in a corner, unconscious. things only went downhill from there. The Agents weren't about to let some renegade loose in their Academy, especially when his first reaction had been violence. They immediately began unleashing Gifts and Glamors on him, hoping to overwhelm him.

Casey simply backed further into a corner, wearily eying the man. He doubted that someone who could perform a skilled move like that would most likely hold a grudge. He also wouldn't be the first.

"Reading states he's a dragon!" one of the men called out. Suddenly someone pulled out another grenade, and a couple of Agents withdrew. Green smoke began filling the room...

[scythe]

He was going to have lots of fun with these guys or so he thought. Someone yelled dragon and he turned to them spotting the device in their hands his eyes narrowing. They had machines that told them races now? Things certainly have changed since he was last in the civilized world. Cultured, enlightened, refined. The new granade burned his senses and he knew instantly what sort he was dealing with. If they could play hard so could he.

The closest man to him earned a tight fisted punch to the throat. Bones caved in under the force and the man gasped his last breath as the windpipe crushed under the hand. The agent grasped his throat and fell to the floor. Collasped, fell, crumbled. Green gas burned his lungs and made his motions slower than normal, but he would take out at least two more before he fell. A man came at him with a weapon in hand and with a twist of his wrist he took the weapon and dislocated the man's arm. The man stumbled forward clutching at his arm and the war dragon smiled evilly. As soon as the agent was behind him he kicked right below the skull relishing in the sound of crushing vertebrae.

"Big. Mistake." He bent and picked up the dragon's bane grenade glaring at the agents around him. The grenade got tossed away and he turned slamming his fist into a man's chest breaking the ribs. Then he jumped back and spun kicking the same spot blood erupting from the man's mouth as bone fragments pierced his lungs and heart. Death, murder, kill. Eyes clouded and his balance off he dropped to one knee his eyes moving quickly to watch them. He'd fought it long enough and he didn't think he could fight it anymore. Between the knock out gas and dragon's bane he was done for. Closing his eyes he sought out the are with the strongest scent of blood and pointed.

"You vill pay, ittle man. Your blood. My hands." With those words he fell forward onto his hands and slid slowly to the ground. Unconscious, inanimate, drugged.

[casey]

The various Academy workers bustled around the unconscious dragon, hurriedly attempting to restrain him. Others were attempting to heal what damage they could. When the dragon hit, it was generally fatal.

"He's good," someone murmured, the voice cutting through the relative silence. A few people nodded. A few people sobbed.

"Almost too good," muttered Casey. His wide eyes took in his surroundings. Everything there confirmed the suspicions that Casey had originally had. This man was a murderer. A killer. And very good at it.

"He caught us by surprise," insisted another Agent.
"You pick him up then," suggested someone else.
The first Agent could only glare at the speaker, who chuckled.

"Casey!"

The shapeshifter jerked at the sound of his name, turning to see one of his superiors looking, well, superior. The man studied the Agent closely, nodding. "Did you get the vial?"

Not "are you alright" but "did you get it." Grunting, Casey reached into his pocket, flicking the vial at the man.

Of course he caught it, studying it with evident interest. His eyes also went to the unconscious Scythe. "We have a place for him, I'm sure."

The agents gulped, scurrying to pick him up.

Casey grunted, leaning against the wall. He suddenly felt very... tired...