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Instinct and Empathy	By : Fenris30 Category: +G through L > King of Fighters Views: 1607 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the King of Fighters fandom, nor anything therein. No money or profit is made from this work.

Chapter List
- 5
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- 7
He stirred at the sound.
It was a scraping, squeaking sound...reminiscent of, perhaps, a window opening after someone had just got done trying to sneak up a set of slightly rusty iron stairs.
Iori's window was awfully creaky; the intense rain had also caused the wood to swell, making it harder to open, and the fire escape wasn't exactly silent, either. Despite the extra noise-the air conditioner mostly-he still heard, and sat up quickly in bed. He had drifted off fairly early this night-probably around midnight-reading a random book he had grabbed from his shelf, which he did enjoy from time to time.
Maybe it was also that 'sixth sense' that he had honed from years of martial arts training.
The figure climbing in was an average sized male, and when he heard Iori stir, he looked up at him in panic; scrambling to get through the window so he could unsheathe the short, ninja style blade he wore on his hip. He was clearly there for malicious purposes.
Iori snarled, leaping out of bed. The man did manage to get through the window...but did not get up fast enough.
Jumping up and over the table that was in the way, Iori reached the man quickly; he followed by bringing his foot down directly onto the side of his head as he struggled to stand via a large, overhead axe kick. He felt it connect.
There was a horrid sound as the bones splintered and his head was split open against the floor; Iori had brought an enormous amount of anger-fueled strength down on him, even if he was slightly clumsy and not particularly exact in his strike due to just having woken up. Blood splattered out around and his body began to twitch in death, with more blood steadily oozing from his head, slowly spreading around on the floor. The man barely had time to utter a yell.
Iori growled, half wondering who the fuck this was trying to break into his place and kill him, and half glad that the concrete floor was painted, so the blood wouldn't stain and this mess would be fairly easy to clean up.
He kicked him over onto his back and squinted down, using the outside alley lights as illumination. The man was unrecognizable now; his head misshapen and his face smashed in; Iori had hit him harder than he first thought. He picked the mangled corpse up by the neck in his iron grip, threw the window open and dragged him out; he saw four others down there, staring up at him. One had started to ascend the fire escape when he thought the first man might be in trouble when he was up there too long.
Iori flung the lifeless sack-the head leaking its contents everywhere-down at them, and before they could even react he dashed down two flights of the fire escape steps and jumped.
He came down with his feared back kick to one's head; his neck shattered as easily as could be from Iori's power mixed with the height of the jump; the only thing that spared him a total decapitation was that the hit was shallow, though he still felt the back of his skull cave in despite that. His claw-like hand tore out another man's throat; before they could even realize it, five were now two, and clearly regretting their life choices at the moment.
It took the man whose throat he tore out a few moments to expire; he may have not even realized he was dead yet even as the blood gushed from his neck, spreading out around him.
The people they worked for-their group had seemed like a good idea, the man in the sweater and the black haired woman had been pretty convincing-hadn't quite told them what exactly this Iori guy could do when they sent them on their little initiation trip, which was to try to kill him in his sleep. Five of them, one of him. They knew South Town had a healthy amount of strong fighters, and reckoned that sending several would give them a better shot. They had lightened up on these attacks lately-they hadn't been working out-but decided to hit Iori on his home turf.
Now they were facing down an insane looking man with red hair, dressed in nothing but the pair of jeans that he had been sleeping in, blood spattered all over his body. They weren't told that Iori Yagami had been inhumanly strong, and clearly mad. They saw the man with his pulverized neck, the one whose throat was ripped out, and the man whose skull was crushed-the eye hanging from its socket not making things any better-and realized he had done this in roughly the span of one minute. They weren't told that his hands were stronger than steel, able to tear a person apart as easily as someone would tear a piece of paper in half.
He started to walk toward them; they noticed that the broken glass and debris in the alley didn't seem to cut him as he walked over it. If it did, he simply wasn't bothered. They didn't know which was worse.
As he closed in on them-a blood-chilling yell ringing through the alley-they uttered the most pathetic screams of their lives as he tore into them with his deadly hands, ripping and tearing.
It wasn't even a challenge. He left the two men's corpses in a ruinous shape under the fire escape.
Looking at his blood covered hands, he wiped them on his jeans; they were a rusty red color that half hid the blood. He held his hand out; the drizzle would not be enough to clean him, as he was fairly well splattered.
He started to collect himself to begin to dispose of the bodies when he saw another shadow leap in; another man-fairly plain looking with shaggy brown hair, who drew a sword.
“Hiding?” Iori said, as he launched an attack. The man deftly dodged.
Iori smiled evilly. Finally, he thought. They sent someone other than a sack of meat to take me on.
“Come on, then.” He took his trademark stance; his hands up in their clawed form; his first two fingers slightly more extended, making it easy for him to strike, dig in, and then hold the opponent there so all five fingers could rend and tear.
He reckoned they saved their stronger, more elite fighters; it made sense to do so. If you could take someone out by several pieces of trash, why bother risking your better people? It was clever enough, trying to take him out in his sleep, but they didn't count on him being particularly sharp even while in slumber. He was probably sent as a final backup...or perhaps as someone to observe how they did.
It didn't matter.
The man was very agile; able to dodge Iori's slashing hands and long-reaching kicks fairly well; Iori was trying to stay out of the way of the sword, which had raked across him a few times. It was light, but enough to cause slight wounds.
He was clever; he knew Iori could kill him in seconds if he got close-he was observing, but was told to not interfere until the end, so he better knew what he was going against-so he opted to try to go on the defensive until he could get a clean hit. It was probably the smartest thing he could have done.
Dodging each others attacks, Iori was coming up with clawing strikes, sweeps, and kicks, trying to get him to make a mistake. After taking another blow on the side-this one biting deeper than he'd have liked-he decided to feint one way, but then come around with an overhead, clawing attack...which struck the top of his sword, where there was the blunted edge. Before the man could act, Iori's iron grip closed and he twisted his wrist, snapping the blade in two and tossing it aside.
Being surprised at this maneuver, and now being stuck with no reach, he tried for a killing stab to the chest...which Iori dodged, coming around with a kick that caught him in the jaw. It wasn't full force, but it was still enough to break bone, causing him to spit blood and stumble, groaning from the intense pain, breathing heavily. He seemed mixed between dazed and starting to panic.
He misjudged the stab due to the half-length blade, and that was his downfall.
Iori grabbed him by his neck; holding him up high above his head with one hand, he squeezed and threw him down with an enormous amount of strength. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, practically bouncing. If he hadn't died from that-and given Iori dug his fingers into his throat and spiked him down hard, that was highly unlikely-he was definitely dead after Iori slammed his heel down onto his temple just to make sure. He could tell from the feel that his head had already been damaged heavily from the throw and the final blow had been likely unnecessary overkill. Blood oozed everywhere onto the asphalt.
Standing back, panting, he checked himself out in the window of one of the buildings nearby. He had some light wounds and the one moderate one, but he would be okay; had taken much, much worse in his time. The bigger one could have been much worse if he had misjudged; that blade had been wicked sharp, and he counted himself a little lucky he was able to grasp it the way he did.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket-he had slept with the pack, as he would sometimes when he'd just fall asleep on his bed with the music on-and lit it, blowing out a stream of smoke. As usual, he looked like he had just wandered out of a slaughterhouse, though he had looked much worse.
He was quite pleased the last guy actually tested him, as he found the amount of fodder they'd throw at him in their desperate attempt to take them down rather boring. Sure, it was amusing for a few moments, but at the end of the day he'd rather have a real fight.
Many suspected this is why he didn't kill Kyo after all, given he was one of the few people to provide him with a real challenge. He had more than one chance to...but he always ended up not doing it. Kyo was the only man he could consider his equal.
Well, almost. He did still have a slight lead on him, so to speak, but he was willing to overlook a couple of them due to the situations that came up.
Smoking his cigarette, he looked up the escape to his open window, realizing that he left his phone upstairs...and that he had a bit of a mess to clean up from the first man.
Sighing, he tossed the broken and blood-soaked bodies in a pile before charging up his brutally hot, purple flames. He figured he would leave behind ash for them to find, though there was still some spare blood spattered around they alley if they happened to run into that before the rain washed it away.
When it was through, he took another drag of the smoke and proceeded to head back up the fire escape and back through his window, clicking on the light. Any everyday person seeing him at this point would have thought him to be completely and utterly insane with the way he was carrying on as if nothing had happened.
The blood pool was rather large, as head wounds tended to bleed a lot and he had done a rather nasty number on him. There were some teeth and a couple of other spare grotesque looking bits around which tossed to the iron stairs outside and quickly burned, though it was mostly just blood, as his blow was not even of his full power.
He decided to check his phone...and found a missed call.
She'll probably be here soon.
Athena's psychic powers did allow her to sense danger fairly well, and given that they were basically somehow linked-ever since that first time, and especially now-it was a foregone conclusion.
He knew it took her about twenty or so minutes to get there, and he didn't know when she left; he decided to try to clean up the best he could before she arrived, sparing her the sight. Heading into the closet in the corner-where he kept odds and ends-he found a mop and bucket. Iori wasn't exactly a guy who was heavy on cleaning, as he didn't have much to get dirty; but he would occasionally push a mop around the room every so often, since he at least tried to keep his grim, spartan apartment somewhat livable.
Filling it with hot water and washing his hands and arms in the process, he pushed a few things out of the way and got to cleaning up the congealing, sticky mess. He was still well covered with it-he had washed his hands, at least-but he'd take a shower afterward. The blood had spread in about a meter radius around, and it was quite stubborn; though it would not stain anything. Some was on the walls, as well.
As he cleaned, his mind wandered; he was becoming much more adept at controlling himself in battle. For him to actually snap, it took a concentrated effort of them channeling power directly into him. He could even let himself loose just a little on his own in combat.
If he could learn to control his power...he could do unimaginable things. All of the strengths-enhancing his already ridiculous strength, speed, and endurance...without trying to murder everything in his vicinity, would all be his.
Pausing to light a cigarette, he continued. He took a small break to clean the wall off; this had a fair bit of spatter-his face had been toward it when he smashed him-but it came clean soon enough.
He was about three-quarters of the way finished when he heard the knock.
“Yeah,” he answered. “It's open.” He heard the rain pick up outside. Could have started earlier. I'd have maybe been showered by then.
Athena walked in, sucking in her breath. “I...knew something was wrong.” She paled slightly at the sight, though after that one horrible night in the alley, this was fairly tame.
He nodded. “There were more. I burned them all afterward. One was pretty skilled.”
She looked at him as she over to the bed...deciding to glance quickly over at the area out of morbid curiosity. It was almost clean, though the water in the bucket was red, and he was spattered all over. She then noticed the wounds on him and cringed.
“It was bad, I guess. You okay?” She sounded surprisingly calm. She knew Iori, and if he wasn't in a panicked condition, he was usually just fine.
He just looked at her, clenching his fist as he kept cleaning the rest up. “They sent six. One made it in as you see. The rest I went outside to take care of. The one inside got stuck coming in.”
She nodded, shivering. Putting her arms around herself, she looked around. Her senses were quite overloaded right now, given up her ability to pick up heavy negative energy.
Iori finally finished-he emptied the bucket and refilled it with clean water after rinsing the mop once-and went over things one more time, and finally cleaning up the blood he had tracked around the place.
“I'll be out,” he said, tossing his bloody jeans off to the side near the washer and nodding toward the bathroom as he grabbed a towel.
There wasn't any trace left of the battle, but she could still somewhat tell something went wrong tonight. She poked her head out the window, seeing a few blood droplets and smears on the fire escape that the small bit of fire missed, though it wasn't much, and the harder rain that was coming would soon wash it away.
She noticed the book on his bed, seeing that he was probably reading before he went to sleep. He was actually just trying to have a calm night for once. It's like violence follows him.
After relaxing for a couple of minutes, she saw the coffee pot was empty; she decided to make more. It was late, to be sure, but she know Iori would drink it at random times of night. She managed to remember where he kept everything; Iori's apartment was more chaotic at times than a dorm room. As someone who was quite neat and methodical-though not to excessive levels, as she had some clutter around herself-it was occasionally an amusing puzzle to figure out.
She had just gotten done and pressed the button when he walked out, a towel around his neck. His hair was wet and plastered to his head, but the blood was gone. The wounds stood out more now that his body was clean; red gashes around his torso and arms. They did not seem to be bleeding, though one looked a bit deep and long, and she didn't like that.
Iori grabbed a clean pair of jeans and threw them on, moving a few things back to where they were. He smiled slightly at the coffee, walking over to get some.
Athena stood in front of him. “Hang on,” she said. She placed her hands on his torso, closing her eyes.
“They'll heal. You don't need to push yourself.”
She didn't listen; it wasn't too much of a push...just a small one. Focusing, she just wanted to help along the deeper one; at almost half an inch deep, and longer than she'd have liked, she was imagining how painful it could be...even though she knew Iori wouldn't show it. He grit his teeth, feeling the power seep into him as he clenched his fists. His heart started racing again...though just as soon as it started, it stopped.
While the wounds weren't fully healed, the largest one looked a little smaller, and more closed up. It did feel better. He moved his arms around before looking at her.
“Thanks,” he said, smoothing down her hair with one hand. She looked a little worn, so he took her over to the bed to lie down.
“How can you do those blasts of yours and not have it tire you out?”
“Those are easy,” she chuckled. “Okay, the biggest ones aren't. Those...well, you saw that one day. But healing is more difficult.”
He nodded, not quite understanding how it all worked, but taking her word for it. She practically collapsed the day she healed him in the alley; he remembered they were lying there for a very long time. It was he that had to escort her...despite being the one who had almost died.
Grabbing coffee for himself and her, he set the cup on the table and sat on the sofa, snatching his cigarettes and lighting one, slinging his leg up onto the table. He leaned back, his arms across either side, staring at the ceiling.
Athena took a sip of the coffee, leaning over on the bed and smiled softly. “Hard night.”
He snorted laughter. “I guess I pissed them off after the last bunches I slaughtered. They seem to have it out for me now.” He blew a stream of smoke straight out. “Let them.”
“You don't think they'll try...”
“They probably will. I'll deal with them again.” He looked directly at her. “I don't plan on dying.”
She smiled sadly. She wished that this would all end soon, though she knew, when it came to Iori, nothing would ever be completely normal.
“Can I stay?”
He nodded. “I think they learned their lesson.” It was almost a shame the rain had likely washed away the piles of ash that were out there. There wasn't anything left of the sorry bastards they had sent after him, except for the few remnants he had tossed outside that had come from the man he had killed in his room.
Athena slid off the bed to join him on his ragged, yet surprisingly comfortable couch. It had the scent of cigarettes permanently entrenched in the fabric, but it didn't bother her at all. She had grown more than accustomed to smoke during her time here, given Iori went through a pack a day, if not more.
Iori crushed out his cigarette, pulling her over under his arm. He seemed quite content to sleep right there on the couch that night. Athena grabbed the sheet-the bed was rather close, pulling it over herself.
He looked down and watched her as she drifted off, a tiny bit of peace finally hitting him.
–
Snapping awake, Iori rubbed his head, having ended up with a few more disturbing dreams that he didn't remember; they often just left him a little exhausted, feeling like his blood had boiled overnight.
They're closing in again.
He knew this from his feelings. They tried to break in last night; he should have known as much.
Athena was still asleep under his arm, still curled up on her side with the sheet thrown over her. It was quite chill in the room now, as he had neglected to leave the window cracked open, which he usually did.
Taking his fingers, he lightly stroked her hair back as she slept. He did it sort of on instinct; he didn't even realize he was doing it until he actually thought about it.
She stirred, waking up with a small smile on her face. “Iori?”
He shrugged.
“I didn't expect that.”
“I just...felt like it.” He snorted, a slightly grumpy look on his face. He stood up to go take care of the coffee. Athena giggled, realizing that he had put a lot more work into his surly act in the past than he was now. Oh, she knew with other people it wasn't an act...and that sometimes with her it wasn't, but she was learning to tell the difference.
She notice the cat outside and cracked the window. Iori walked over to scratch the tiny damp thing behind the ears; she started purring immediately. After a few moments, he went to go get her usual food, letting her eat in the corner today so she could stay in out of the rain again.
“She left?” Athena asked.
“On her own. She does that too. Guess she found somewhere else to hang out. Was glad she wasn't here.”
She nodded, frowning; the poor thing may not have lived through the night. But all was well in the end.
Iori poked a cigarette into the corner of his mouth and lit it; inhaling deeply, he relaxed. The first smoke of the day was always one of the best, calming his nerves after a particularly restless night.
Athena could see it on him, too; she knew how he looked after having one of his bad nights. His eyes had some slight dark rings under them, which to most people gave him a menacing appearance. Even she had thought so...but now she just felt for him when she saw them, since she knew why he had them.
Thinking for a moment, she stood up to walk over as he leaned on the counter, apparently staring at the coffeemaker as it dripped coffee into the pot, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. Sliding her hands around his waist, she rest her head between his shoulders again.
She felt him tense a moment...and then relax. His hand slid over hers, holding them there. She decided to take some incentive, boosting herself up a little to kiss the back of his neck; he moaned a second, letting her do it, enjoying how it felt.
He stuffed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the counter when it was done and turned to face her.
As always he was pulled several ways at once. He had grown more fond of her over the past days, though he wasn't quite considering anything more than what they had. What they did have was rather nice. They had seen each other a few times since the day they examined the restaurant, and one of those times they had gotten rather intense again. He liked how it just sort of happened. It didn't feel forced.
This is what also sort of kept him at a distance, since he wasn't sure he wanted it to get too...comfortable.
This time, he didn't resist; he went to kiss her for the first time since she arrived last night. She fell into it, happy he instigated. Nipping at her lower lip as he would and sucking it for a short bit, he pulled apart before he started to get too into things, as he sort of needed to go do a little investigating today after the night before.
He looked at her for a moment though, his thumb tracing over her mouth. He then reached up and removed the necklace with the guitar pick that he wore, sliding it over her neck. He turned without a word and started pouring the coffee as if he had just given her the morning paper that he was done with.
Athena reached down to take a look. It was a gray pick, fairly thick; she wasn't sure what he had used it for, but she knew he played a little guitar as well. It had been made into a necklace with a steel chain running through it. It sort of carried his scent, as well, given he wore it most of the time.
She beamed at him when he handed her the coffee. Iori's expression was fairly well neutral.
“Really?” she asked.
He just nodded.
Fingering the necklace, she smiled down at it. For her, this meant about everything, since she knew that he was not the type to do something like this without some meaning behind it. Even if it was minor, and even if he wasn't ready to do anything...serious, it was sort of his way of letting her know a few things.
Seemingly not even thinking much of the topic, Iori looked out the window at the rain clearing up again, though noticing the sky was still dark. “I know a place we can go today. It's kinda near the place we checked out. I want to see it again.”
“You...feel okay to do it?”
He nodded. “Bastards are up to something.”
“True,” she said. Iori started to gather his stuff up. After all of the bullshit, he would enjoy nothing more today but to stay here, toss her on the bed, and stick his head back between her legs again for awhile before letting her ride him, but he couldn't. Not with everything going on. That sort of pissed him off too, and he had a feeling if he did find any of them poking around they would be very sorry.
He looked at her for another moment, making sure his brain was doing the right thing. He sighed and shook his head.
Athena looked at him as he finished dressing, wondering what was on his mind. The necklace sat against her chest in an almost comforting manner.
“Thank you,” she said to him, touching the necklace.
Giving her the slightly sad smile that he would, he touched her under the chin as he walked by.
It was enough for her.
–
It was now evening, and after eating at the old, slightly decrepit bar he had brought them to, they had poked again around the restaurant; Iori going inside this time as well.
They had determined it was indeed the site of some sort of power vein or ley line. After Athena had asked around from a few people who noticed more people hanging around there, she knew that was probably going to be the site of something big and not particularly good happening.
No one knew what, but given it had to do with Those from the Past and their followers, it probably had to do something with summoning entities, opening gates, or otherwise causing some sort of chaos; after Verse's defeat, things were certainly more chaotic than they have been.
Iori grunted, lighting up a cigarette. While the night was overcast still, the rain had let up for some time...though it was still damp and stifling. Pushing back some of his sweat-soaked hair, he leaned by the wall and exhaled, looking around.
“They'll be here tonight, then.”
“I think so. They...probably attacked you to try to get rid of you so they could go more unimpeded. I'm convinced they are going to try whatever they were now. There will probably be a lot of them.” For a second she hesitated, but the slid her arm up onto his bare shoulder. He had left his rain jacket back at home. “Do you...feel okay?”
He looked over at her, her touch comforting. “Don't know. Maybe.”
She nodded, fiddling with the necklace again.. She somehow found herself messing around with it often. She wasn't sure why, but when he had given it to her it had gave her a feeling that she wasn't sure she had felt before.
“Do you want to wait?”
He nodded. “We can go to the top of one of the buildings here and wait it out. Can see from up there.”
“Don't forget something,” she said, tapping her head.
He smirked. “You can sense them further away than me. I can only tell if they're dealing with Orochi.”
She nodded. “I let Yuri know there may be trouble down on their end. They mentioned their place was one of the addresses they had found.”
He nodded. He imagined they could deal with some common cultists, even if they also lacked his willingness to kill.
Iori simply paced around on the roof, smoking. He was not meant for staking out; he wanted them to get there so he could take care of them already. Even if they had some stronger people with them, he knew he could take them, and Athena, he knew, could fire off enormous amounts of power if needed anyway.
Checking her phone, she looked over at him. “Robert had told me they hadn't run into anything weird yet tonight. Nothing beyond what they usually do.”
He grunted. “They'll be there. If there's some sort of energy or something they want, that is.”
She nodded. Watching him, Iori was like a caged animal right now. She could feel the malice rising again, and she normally did not feel it at these levels with him. Even on those hard days he recently had, it had a bit of a different feel. Then, it was more confusion and rage mixed with a sort of desperation.
This time, it felt like almost the previous tournament after Ash had stolen his powers. He was clearly rearing to let loose on these people; he felt like he wanted to end everything, here, tonight...and was angry that he likely wouldn't be able to, given that they both doubted any major players would be there this night, let alone all of them.
“Iori...” she said, tentatively.
He looked over at her, his hand opening and closing, as he shoved another cigarette into his mouth. “I'm fine,” he said, though his eyes looked dark. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.
After what seemed to be forever-Iori practically lighting a new cigarette off of the butt of the old one-there seemed to be some noises coming from near the restaurant. It sounded like a scuffle of a fairly large amount of people.
Looking at one another, they both took off down the stairs on the side of the building, both of them moving rather quickly.
They heard people in three areas; inside, some around the other side in the large parking lot...and another group down the way of the alley.
“Take the alley,” Iori said. “I'll get in there. We'll go toward the lot after.”
She nodded, running toward, her hands already getting a soft, pale purple glow, which spread to her body.
Iori blinked, watching for a moment as the glow grew stronger and she turned the corner. He turned to go inside, noticing there were only a couple of people in there at the moment. Surprised he was there, they ran at him, not knowing who he was until they got too close...where they saw who it was.
They didn't stop in time as he quickly dispatched them, their bodies collapsing to the ground with massive wounds torn into their flesh as they gushed blood onto the floor, where the dry wood drank it up rather quickly.
Not seeing anyone else at a quick glance, he ran back out...only to hear Athena's yell and see her actually seem to leap and hover into the air...
...and an enormous light purple beam fire out of her hands and fill the alley at the other end.
Just like that, any footsteps were stopped cold. He blinked, smiling. She waved to him, signaling that she was going to continue that way; he nodded...checking the alley quickly to see what happened.
Trash cans were blown asunder, an entire dumpster had been overturned, and he had lost track of where all of the unconscious men had been blown to. Most of them had gone over the gate in the back.
He shook his head, still smiling...and somehow managing to curb his bloodthirst long enough to not try to find and kill the men she had rendered out cold.
He moved onto the lot as originally planned. He knew that she would not run into any issues with more cultists; after that blast, he imagined they could send twenty men after her and it wouldn't have mattered. He had felt one of those blasts; while he was able to absorb it...it had lasting impressions, he knew all too well.
Getting to the lot-which was far enough away that he didn't hear as much going on now-he waited around, but did not see anyone yet. Scanning the place, there were a few old trucks that likely hadn't seen use in awhile and were simply parked and abandoned, a couple of dumpsters, and a lot of trash. The abandoned building seemed to be a sort of place of business; the place was likely one of those public lots to park at before it decayed, like so many things did in this part of South Town.
He decided to kick the door in on the building to poke around inside, just in case. It was dark, dusty, musty, and had clearly not been opened in years; it was simply a couple of desks and that was it. Anything that may have been somewhat valuable had long been stripped away by vagrants.
Satisfied, he stepped out...and was greeted by a group of their enemies; it was clearly, judging by their robes, higher placed ones.
Iori stared ahead at the people. All of them fairly powerful; mystical powers were involved, for sure. He could feel what they were doing. He knew what they wanted him to do. The lanky blonde man or the quiet girl weren't there, nor any of the others he recognized, but these were definitely more of the elite.
He struggled, his blood boiling. Squinting ahead, he saw one of them smiling.
They're...doing it...
Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes, focusing. Focusing on the rage, the power, and everything. His heart was pounding, and his blood rushing in his ears as it would; his muscles contracted and twisted. It actually felt like they were gaining strength, though it was agonizing. He opened and closed his deadly hands, knowing that soon they would be plunging into...something, and likely slick with red afterward.
His eyes were still closed as he felt the power surround him. He didn't understand, however, why they wanted to set him off now...with them in the vicinity.
Before his mind went, however...it hit him. He knew what they wanted him to do.
No...not now...not now...not that...
The man in the coat directed another blast of bluish light toward him. Iori's mouth grew sticky, the saliva forming more to a foam. He went to one knee, putting his hand up to his mouth. Blood oozed out as he spat it on the ground. He somehow had the state of mind to wipe his hand off and put it over his face, seemingly trying to physically hold himself together.
Several more men came from the side. After that, Iori faintly heard more soft footsteps coming back around at this time...where he had originally came from.
No...!!
Athena...
She came around, seeing what happened and immediately started charging up a ball of energy; this was a fairly quick, smaller one that she fired toward the new group as she ran toward them; two were blown several feet back and knocked out as she charged another, flinging it at three more as they were knocked silly. Ordinary everyday people did not hope to stand against her concentrated beams of powerful psychic energy; she barely had to exert herself for them. It was fellow ki-users that she had to be much more careful with.
“Iori!!” she shouted, trying to then concentrate her power to soothe him; she thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to overtake his curse; she felt the power coming off of the others, and rather than risk a giant ki battle, she decided on that moment to try to fight their power this way. She stopped roughly a quarter of the way toward the other group, in front of him.
Iori felt it all boil over; his rage, his cursed blood. His breathing grew heavier...and he began to snarl.
Alas, while she could render people out in an instant, heal wounds, and do countless other things...her psychic energy was not able to control the Riot of the Blood, at least this far into it.
Raising his head, his eyes were a bloody red color; the pupils re-formed into un-natural shapes. He tried to yell at her to move; he tried to scream at her to run, to get away and to not come back, but he could not form the words. The only thing that came from his lips was a tiny bit of blood-speckled foam.
His world went black for a moment, as it would.
Going to his knees with one hand over his face, he dug the fingers of his other hand into the hard pavement, his strength reaching it's fevered, inhuman levels as the rage finally overtook him, his vision returning bit by bit as the moments passed in what felt like slow motion. His heart pounded at a rate that would render a regular human being dead in an instant.
Iori slowly raised his head, looked straight at everyone, and grinned.
The cultists-the ones who had no idea what to expect-took a step back; he looked terrifying.
Athena stared at him, realizing she was in his path, as she attempted to concentrate a bit more...to no avail. There was no use in moving; she wouldn't be able to fast enough. The lot was large, but he could zip around it in no time in this form, despite being a ways back. She didn't even have time to charge a bolt toward him to knock him out; the world seemed to be moving in slow motion at this instant.
Biting her lip...she decided to stand firm. The red eyes set on her for a moment...and then turned toward the group standing further away in the old lot.
They did this one more time.
She sucked in her breath quickly. Iori...he...he...
Iori uttered an inhuman laugh and ran straight ahead...and Athena still did not move.
The man at the end grinned as well...
...until he saw Iori run past Athena and straight toward him.
He had no time to even budge before Iori leapt at him with a kick; it was a little wild, given his state at the moment...but it was enough to tag him in the mouth with the edge of his boot, causing blood and teeth to fly out to the side as he stumbled. Lightning-quick, Iori grabbed him by the head, smashing his heel down onto his shin, shattering it.
He screamed in terror; the man was no longer in control of the situation. All that could go through his mind-besides blinding pain-was that Iori was supposed to first go after the girl while they escaped, and then having him run rampant afterward to do their work for them, hunting down those around South Town, before he was put out of their misery. He was told Iori lost all control in this state, and that Athena may not be able to render him unconscious in time or even have a blast big enough to stop him in that cursed state.
Iori snarled at him, his mad, cursed eyes seemingly glaring holes into his; he could almost see the hatred...for a few moments, anyway. It was an intense, burning hatred clearly directed at him for what he tried to do, and he was in too much pain to even attempt anything. The others were frozen in fear and were of no help.
Letting out a bone-chilling, primal yell-before the other men-who had backed off considerably now-could figure out what was going on, Iori's thumbs slid into his eyes.
One of the men actively ran off, utterly terrified. In the back, Athena could not see what was happening-Iori's back was to her-but she had an idea. She stepped back...though did not run.
Iori heard the man scream as he feebly struggled to escape his iron grip; he held him there a few moments, letting him know what he tried would not be forgiven. The terrifying grin on his face had twisted in rage...as he dug his fingers into the top of his skull.
Just like that, he pulled.
Everything flew apart as he dropped the sorry remains of the corpse, looking ahead at the rest of their 'elite', the same look of murder in his still-red eyes.
Athena shook her head. He's...changed but...he's somewhat in control? Did I do this?
Did...he manage to keep control...?
Dashing forward like lightning, Iori swung his arm so low his fingertips grazed the pavement, digging a few lines as he brought his arm up in an arc, eviscerating a man right in front of him in one go; the ruin that had once been a man fell to the ground with a splat.
Jumping, he went overhead, his right leg striking behind him in one of his overhead attacks; feeling his boot connect with a man's head-and the subsequent snapping of his neck and smashing in of his skull due to his fevered, enhanced strength-he grinned and landed fairly deftly from it as the man dropped, his head at a sick angle and some more disagreeable material leaking from his head.
One of the cultists found it odd that he would use something of a tactic while he was berserk...as they were told he was supposed to be mindless.
It was then that it finally finished hitting them. It took them a few deaths, but it hit them; he was just about in control right now, and at his full power. Before the man could shout, Iori grabbed his face in one of his big hands, squeezed, and flung him down on the other side like a rag doll, smashing his head open on the pavement.
At this, the rest of the cultists started to scatter, realizing that there was no way they could deal with this; Iori simply ran about, cutting them off...seemingly almost hunting them down, appearing out of nowhere to tear them to pieces; he landed on one from above, smashing him into the ground...cracking it beneath him and spraying blood an alarming distance away. Occasionally he would throw out a purple flame toward someone trying to run; they could not outrun this. He would finish them off as they burned.
His level of control was not...complete, but it was strong. He was completely given into bloodlust, killing his opponents even more sadistically than he would otherwise, when he mostly just aimed to quickly tear into them; but he was able to keep from attacking anything around. He knew where Athena was...and if anything, most of his burning rage right now came from the fact that they tried to turn him against her. Every time that thought entered his mind, he would do something particularly nasty to one of the men he caught.
During the carnage, Athena stepped back to the store, not wanting to see what he did...but she was...not as disturbed as she could be. She did not like this level of violence, or anything even close to this...but her mind was elsewhere. She stayed alert for any reinforcements, but she guessed the situation would have caused any potential ones to run off.
When he had looked at her when he snapped...it was like he was signaling.
He looked right at me. His eyes...were...but he recognized me. He was letting me know.
He really does have control. At least some.
That alone was enough to get her to almost want to weep; though not in terror or sadness. He was still murderous in this form, no doubt; his laughter chilled her, and the occasional sound she would catch of him ripping into the men or breaking bone made her shiver...but they did not get him this time.
She had seen in the last tournament that he could occasionally tap into parts of it; just for a few moments. Mostly it was bursts of even more insane strength or a particularly brutal maneuver. But this time he seemed to be able to hold on a longer time. She would not want to see the condition of any of those men...but...
Waiting by the one abandoned building, she could see no one else inside; she thought perhaps checking out the restaurant would be prudent, but she almost didn't want to leave Iori alone...just in case. She thought that if things did take a turn for the worst, one of her powerful stunning energy blasts would be enough to render him harmlessly unconscious where he would awaken later...calm.
Or as calm as he could ever be.
She shivered at the echoing laugh she heard again; despite knowing what he could do, it was just strange for her to think that this was the same man she spent her time with. She knew everything he had done in the past, but she had never witnessed it, until the past couple of months.
Eventually, the frantic screams stopped...she assumed the cultists or cronies...whoever they were...were all dead. It was highly unlikely he had let any of them escape.
Eventually he came around, walking quickly toward her. He was spattered in blood, his hands completely covered up past his elbows, as if he had dipped his arms in red paint. His jeans were black so one couldn't see it on there in the dark in particular; his boots were black as well, but in the light she could see them completely glistening with red.
As he got closer, his eyes were still the bloody red color...and were highly unsettling to look into.
When he stood in front of her, she averted her eyes for a moment, listening to his heavy, ragged breaths. He sounded...bestial.
She looked back up as he reached his hand out, dripping. She didn't know why...but it may have been partially the stench of blood, his red eyes, or just everything that happened; but she flinched. It was slight, and seemingly just by reflex.
Why...the first time, I didn't...
He wasn't...he was still...
He stood there, staring at her, with his hand up. He slowly backed away, dropping his hand. His eyes drained of the cursed red color, soon returning to their light brown.
“Iori...” she said.
He stared a moment more before wiping his hands clumsily off on his jeans and fumbling a cigarette out of his pocket, stuffing it into his mouth. It was still smeared with blood...but he didn't even seem to notice.
He lit it. His expression was no longer full of rage.
It was mournful. Far more than that very first time years ago; and his aura, she could feel, had become overwhelmed with that familiar and palpable air of grief.
Without another word, he turned and walked away slowly; she saw his head fall. The only sound were his heavy footsteps.
“Iori!!” she yelled after him.
He never turned.
Athena watched him walk away for a few moments before absently wiping the tears from her face.
She had flashes of that time a few years ago.

--

A/N:
For those who haven't played 14 yet, in Iori's Climax, his eyes actually go red like he has a small measure of control over the Blood Riot now. I don't think it's totally full, can control at any time, but it was interesting to see!
I figured if there was one thing that could force him into some measure of small control...it would be to ensure he would not harm Athena.
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Instinct and Empathy