The twisted fist of empty stomach hanging below his lungs was tighter than the day before.  He hadn't eaten then either, and the closest he'd come to nonconfrontational food was a rat earlier that morning.

The rat had outrun him, and had too many places to hide to be worth committing the energy into chasing.  He was too hungry to catch food.  That was... definitely not good.

It wasn't especially new, though.  He'd been here before.  It was winter; winter was hard.  It was after the showiest and most concentrated holidays, parties for rich people who didn't understand hunger and never thought of it.  The rich people didn't waste as much food at this time of year, but if he made it through until they paid their debts or whatever he'd be okay.

He just had to make it through this stretch.  Right now, that meant eating even if it came with personal risk.  He could spend resources healing if he picked the right target.  Chasing rats risked wasting energy without any reward.  Confrontational food, so to speak, risked being injured but really only if he succeeded in getting food.

Besides, most people didn't expect to be robbed of their groceries, and that surprise might let him escape unscathed.  That was the ideal outcome.  Food without injury.

Right now, he'd take food with injury.  Another day like yesterday and he wouldn't be able to run more than a block.  He'd been there, and only made it through by strange chance.  Never again, never again, he'd take the risk.

It was a safer risk.  He had to take the safer risk.

Adder padded along the sidewalk, barefoot and dirty, and approached the store as if he were passing by.  He had somewhere to be, and of course that wasn't here.  He was... he was heading 'home' to get cleaned up after a very strange night.  That was it. That was something the rich people would understand and be distracted by.

There was someone burdened by something edible.  It smelled warm.  Warm?  Warm food?  Adder's ears perked, earning a less than thrilled glance from someone who clearly hadn't realized they were on a sidewalk with a mutant.  Boohoo.  Adder was more interested in warm food.  He was aiming lower, for something basic that would fuel him enough to continue on.  That didn't mean he wouldn't accept something better, or that the assumption of warm food didn't have him salivating as much as his current mild dehydration allowed.

As long as the implication of heat was the food and not the person, right?  Adder drifted closer, still just walking, of course he was just a regular passerby, and then darted close to snatch the food-bag.

Meat. It was the only good thing about this miserable city.

Isaac was a carnivore. Steaks, ribs, burgers, bacon, fried chicken, roast beef; never in his life had he met someone who could match his appetite, and using his power only served to make him even more voracious. But having a body that would char food in his mouth meant that anything pre-cooked was dry and tasteless. Meat had to be eaten raw to be enjoyed, and raw meat didn’t exactly keep in the Nevada desert. Sure, he would occasionally be able to bring some back to the trailer that was his home, just not consistently.

But here… here there were butcher shops. Here there was raw meat available in piles of every conceivable cut just a short walk away in the excruciating cold.

Which is why today saw Isaac’s cloaked form hurrying down the sidewalk carrying a bag filled with red meat. Ten pounds of steak, a giant slab of bacon, and a tub of butter, to be precise.

And a pineapple. For variety.

Isaac did not plan for any of it to last until the next day. He was hungry.

As Adder neared the bag, his nostrils flared slightly. The scent of meat, real, fresh human-grade meat, was something he tended to detect from a distance, always out of reach, too expensive, too guarded, too high risk.

And then here it was, sitting innocently in a bag his fingers sank into, iron tang filling his nose and throat with its sticky heaviness, drawing saliva into his mouth and quickening his tired heartbeat.

He found his grip on the bag, and hauled with all his might as he sprinted away. He could feel his empty stomach more now, and fought to keep it from distracting him as he ran. He had to run hard and fast to keep this. He had to keep it. This would keep him alive.

There was a sudden, sharp tug on the bag that pulled Isaac’s glove halfway off his hand before the weight of the food disappeared entirely. Isaac drew a sharp breath at the frigid air on his exposed skin and looked down at his hand.

His food was gone.

There was a moment of brief confusion. The bag was not in his hand. The bag was not on the ground. There was an air of confused tension in the people around him. There was a teenager in ratty clothes sprinting away from him.

Isaac’s nostrils flared as realization dawned. That. Punk.

Anger leapt into flame behind his eyes. Fierce anger. Anger that knew it was strong. “Hey!” Isaac barked at the fleeing figure as he shot into a sprint after it. Cold joints and muscles protested at the sudden exertion. Isaac shouted them down; he would not lose this chase. Without breaking stride, he forced his glove back down onto his hand and increased his temperature a hundred degrees or so to purge his legs of fatigue.

It wasn’t long before he had matched the thief’s speed. Soon, he was gaining.

Think you can steal from me, you little s***? the thoughts blazed in his mind. I’ll make you regret it! And after I’m done you’ll be lucky if you still have teeth!

The bag came free, and Adder ran. Damn did he run, holding the bag tight against his chest and constantly scanning the street ahead of him to plot his escape route.

Then came pounding footsteps behind him, and the scent of scorch. Adder pushed his legs harder, gritting his teeth against the general weariness that came with his hunger. He could make it away, he could outrun people -

the footsteps were close together, and growing closer to him. That was not good. That was really really really not good oh fffffff-

He couldn't go faster in this form. It was crowded, there were people and smells and sounds all around him, but he couldn't go faster in this form. Breathe, breathe, feel the hunger, feel the iron scent of blood, feel the need to run faster and farther than any human ever could hope to do.

He pushed the bag up and sank his teeth into it as he dropped to all fours midstride, a haze of white fur flowing across his body before he was suddenly all wolf. Not that he could think about being wolf. He had to just be wolf. He had to feel it, and not get tangled up in the pounding smells and the sounds and the sheer deluge of details.

Run, run, pant through the corners of his mouth as the bag pressed against his tongue and gums and chin. Run, with all the speed of a predator evolved to run prey to the ground.

Adder was pretty fast, in his humanoid form. As a wolf, he flashed down the sidewalk with his tail streaming like dust behind him.

Isaac cursed, his words forming a pale mist in the winter air. He’d had him. He’d been just a few yards behind the punk and he’d had him. And then the kid was a wolf, because of course he was. Everyone in this city was some kind of freak. Every. Damn. Person.

And the thief-wolf was fast. Much faster than it had been. It quickly destroyed the gains Isaac had made as it shot off down the street.

“No!” Isaac’s shout was aimed less at the animal and more at pushing his own body faster. He cooled, forcing all of his energy into his sprint. He concentrated all of his focus onto the figure of wolf, colliding with pedestrians and shoving them aside as he ran. He would not lose this chase.

He couldn’t match the wolf’s speed, Isaac knew that, but he wasn’t winded yet, and the wolf would have to stop eventually. As long as he could see it, it hadn’t gotten away. Not yet.

Isaac’s breath hissed through gritted teeth.

Not yet.

The litany rushing through his head was not family-friendly or politically correct. It was desperate, rough, and timed with his breathing even if the only sound sneaking out of his teeth was his hoarse panting.

He didn't quite notice himself stumble, caught in the middle of a moment of blurred vision, but instinctively found his footing before he faceplanted.

Well, before he faceplanted that time. He tripped again going around the next corner, and slammed into the ground. He skidded a foot or two on his shoulder, shirt tearing and skin rubbed open to bleed freely, and it took him a moment to sroll to the side, head spinning and trying to figure out why he was looking at hands rather than paws.

The wolf thief was stumbling, and under his anger Isaac felt small tremors of sadistic satisfaction. Served him right. And once Isaac caught him… well, he’d add some more scrapes of his own. Kind words and charity had never served Isaac very well; violence was the best way to make people respect you -or at least leave you alone- and this punk needed to be taught a lesson.

His prey disappeared around a corner. Isaac forced himself forward with greater speed. He couldn’t let himself lose sight of the thief for very long. He veered into the alley, slammed into the wall, and pushed off in the direction he’d seen the wolf run. Isaac’s gaze swept the alley hungrily. If he’d lost the thief, something was going to be destroyed.

But the kid was there, a kid again and lying on the pavement. His emaciated form was curled around Isaac’s bag of food and a wound on his shoulder dripped blood. Isaac slowed from his run and stormed toward the boy, slamming his boots onto the pavement. He pulled down his mask as the heat returned to his face, letting the flicker of his anger light the shadows. Fear. Fear was powerful and Isaac intended to use it.

“You want something, you little ****?!”

Okay, okay, he'd knocked himself out of his running form. He'd done that before and he'd hopefully do it again, because doing it again meant he'd survived today. Surviving was the point. It was the only point. Nothing else meant much if he didn't survive.

And right now, surviving meant both escaping his pursuer and eating, and so he shoved a package of meat, the first thing his hand caught when he shoved it into the bag, up under his shirt and then down a bit so the waist of his pants held it steady.

And then he scrambled to his feet, crouching against the wall with his ears flat back and his teeth bared. The weight pounding the sidewalk didn't bother him. Shows of aggression didn't translate particularly accurately to threat levels.

Skin glowing with heat was a much stronger sign of threat, and Adder fought back an urge to just blindly bolt before the heat became fire. His stubbornness won, for the moment, but he kept a very, very close eye on his escape routes. Escape routes that didn't involve going within arm's reach of the guy. No more burns. No more burns. No more burns.

Never more burns.

"Clearly," he snapped back, focusing on not making a stupid move and letting his stress through. As long as it was heat and not fire, he could keep stress from becoming panic. Probably. "If I didn't want something, I wouldn't have taken it, now would I?"

Isaac’s nostrils flared. This punk really needed to be taught a lesson, mouthing off like that. He rolled his shoulders and spat to the side, his spit sizzling as it hit the ground. Isaac turned his head back to the kid, glaring at him under his eyebrows as his body shifted from a stance of stiff intimidation to one coiled and ready to strike.

A single profane instruction left Isaac’s mouth, then he began to move.

The kid had dropped the stolen bag, but Isaac didn’t even look at it as he strode past. Getting his food back was no longer the goal. This was about teaching a stupid thief never to mess with him again. This was about releasing his rage. This was about all those sneering faces who thought they could get away with taking pleasure at his expense.

They’ll all pay.

With three quick strides Isaac closed on the thief and threw all his momentum into a punch at the kid’s face.

Adder was hardly surprised by the sizzling and wealth of casual signs of mutant. Heat wasn't fire though, so he remained focused on making it out alive and with food. Either without the other wasn't going to work, since he'd be dead either way.

He'd also had people try to punch him in the face before, and a crouch was good for dodging. He slipped sideways, springing around his victim-assailant, shoved his bony elbow at the guy's back between spine and shoulder blade, and ran like a bat out of hell.

You know, again.

With decidedly less food, but hey, it was still food, and now it was easier to run. No bags whacking him, right?

Isaac’s fist hit the brick wall with a dull crunch. By the time he realized that he’d missed, a sharp blow to his back knocked him off balance and into the wall. Hands scrambling against the brick, Isaac stumbled upright. Breath hissed past his teeth and his arms flailed in the air for balance as he whipped around… just in time to see the thief bolt out the alley and around the corner.

Isaac gave a roar of frustration. His prey was escaping! Stumbling into a run and half-tripping over his own bag of food, he tore after the teen. Careening out of the alley, he skidded to a stop on the pavement and scanned the street in a wild frenzy.

People… people… people- Isaac’s head jerked from side to side as he sought for his prey. People… people… people….

…and NONE OF THEM HIM!!!!

“@#$%!!” Isaac shouted into the crowd before storming back into the alley. He pulled his mask up over his barred teeth and glared at the ground. Passing a dumpster, he suddenly turned and slammed his fist into the metal with all his might. When he finally reached the sack of meat, he just stood over it while the breath shot from his nostrils in heavy bursts and condensed into steam in the winter air.

He’d lost.

With a guttural curse, Isaac snatched up the bag and started home.

Adder didn't stop running until he'd heard the wild shout of rage. Cheated rage. Exactly the sort of rage he wanted to hear. The sort of rage that came from giving up.

He slowed to a trot, and kept moving for a few more blocks before coming to a walk and fishing his prize out. Meat. Actual meat, meat he hadn't had to catch and kill himself. Meat that was certified clean and safe, not that he wouldn't and hadn't eaten far worse and survived. He didn't like the risk, though. He'd take it, but he didn't like it.

So very far gone from the fiery-tempered heatsource, Adder tucked himself into a sheltered cranny and tore into the raw meat.

Food was food, and he needed it badly.