Tyson really wasn't the type to go looking for trouble. His plan had been relatively simple, go look at a few shops, do some window shopping, and taking a few sights. He had never been to New York, and was getting a little antsy being in the institute all day. In the old days this would not have been as much a problem, the institute did have entertainment, video games, basketball courts, and other things, but Tyson no longer had the manual dexterity to play a game without breaking the controller, and he had a tendency to have the embarrassing urge to chase the ball and claim it as his own. As such he was without entertainment and getting cabin fever sitting around all day. So he decided to go check out New York. Had he thought things through  a bit more, he may have found reason to stay at the mansion, but Tyson was desperate to get some normality back into his life. He was convinced the institute would come up with a cure, but had no idea how long that would take, so he had to find some way to deal with it at some point.

So here he was walking down the strip mall like nothing was up, dressed in, what he considered,, his least threatening clothing, which consisted of some blue sports shorts and a white t-shirt. Of course, a very obvious wolf man walking down the street was hardly something that went un-noticed. People stared after him, and one could only imagine what they were thinking, if they thought he was a guy in a costume, that this was some sort of promotional stunt, but Tyson tried to ignore it, and tried not to make eye contact with people. Instead he tried to just enjoy the day out, stopping at shop windows to look at what was inside and seeing what peaked his interest.

Unfortunately,  Tyson was not prepared for the inevitable conflict his presence would cause. He had set his mind on just keeping out of peoples way and keeping his cool, trying not to let anything set him off that he didn't realize that some people would come looking for him. As he passed a store front by an alley, he became aware that someone was rushing him when two bodies performed a football check on him, knocking him off his feet and into the alley. He landed on a pile of trash and got to his feet, instinctively growling as he looked at his attackers. The two men who stood before him looked like trouble. Even more so when a number of others walked into the alley behind them. "Look what we have here," one said, "Some mutie trash looking for trouble." Tyson was already growling, so his speech was impaired more then usual. "Hrrrrrrrr whaaaaaaarrrrrttt hrrrrrr rrrrrrro yooooooooo hhhrrrrrr waaaant hrrrrrrrr." he siad, having to fight to get the words out. It didn't look like they understood him, or that they even cared to try. "Let's teach this dog some obedience training," said the ringleader. Tyson started backing away as the group started advancing.

It had been a long time since Darkshift had enough money to consider upgrading her technology.  The laptop that was currently sitting in her bedroom had been 'liberated' a couple of years ago from the house of a woman who should have had the money for something modern but didn't.  2 years ago it had been buggy and slow, now it barely ran at all.  Recent employment with Aura and her Order a few weeks ago meant actual money coming in which meant she could finally replace the piece of junk.  Strange feeling to be actually buying something of worth rather than preparing herself to steal a new one.  Very strange feeling.

Leaving her house in search of a computer store, she kept a few subtle visible sings of being a mutant active without being overwhelming.  The message she had received from Aura was loud and clear: She should not be ashamed of being a mutant and she should not hide in the shadows.  One day, maybe, she'd be comfortable walking out in public covered in black scales or fur, but that was not today.  So instead, she opted for black cat claws on each of her fingers and left it at that.  Subtle, but noticeable if one cared to look.

Darkshift had not gone out with the intent of looking for trouble that afternoon.  She had gone it with very legal and very innocent intent of dropping some money and upgrading her laptop.  Unfortunately, trouble had a way of finding her or, perhaps, she just happened to have an unhealthy attraction to trouble.  Whatever reasons for self-sabotage might have been lurking within her sub-conscious, when she saw the wolf-man get tackled by some rude anti-mutant bigot and his friends, the choice to not act was not an option.  Almost before she had time to consider her actions, black scales covered her body and her head transformed into one resembling a black panther.  "Care to continue your little game with the numbers more even?"  Ok, so even numbers might have been just a bit of an exaggeration but she couldn't let the wolf-man take a beating from a bunch of inconsiderate jerks without stepping in to help.

Tyson wasn't sure what too do, he was panicking a bit. He had, under his fathers control, been little more then an animal, and mauled people before, but that had been against his will. He didn't want to be that again, but he was in trouble, and his warning growls seemed to be having no effect on the advancing men. He could smell the scent of blood on them, not fresh, but a lingering scent mingles with the individual body odors they gave off. Fear edged into his mind, and he felt himself feeling the urge to either run, or fight.

"Care to continue your little game with the numbers more even?" The voice came from a woman, or at least it smelled like one, the way she looked was more consistent with a punk rocker or gang member. That and she apparently had scales and suddenly her head changed into a cats. It was enough for the men to shift there focus from him for a moment. At that point Tyson's instincts took over, and he turned and took off, falling to all fours and taking off down the alley. The men took notice, "Shit," said the ring leader, "You guys take care of the bitch, we'll get the mutt," he said, and the group split, four of the men chasing after Tyson, while the other four turned to Darkshift, pulling out knives and pipes, apparently ready for a fight.

Darkshift felt more anger at the bigots attacking the wolf then she would have expected.  It bubbled up inside her, pushing against her barriers and begging to be let out.  How dare they?  How dare they make an innocent mutant into a victim?  How dare they claim to be better than him simply because they were human?  How dare no one step in to help?  Living in poverty and forced onto the streets by her step-father and mother, injustice was something she was all too familiar with.  Well, it was time to take things into her own hands.  When the scales of justice were tipped in someone else's favour, it was time to break those scales and start fresh.

The wolf man took off down the alley and the group of bigots decided it was best to split the group.  Well, that suited her just fine.  4 squishy humans armed with knives and pipes?  She could deal with that.  The growl she let out was decidedly less feral but no less menacing in its intent.  She crouched low, claws out, waiting for one of the thugs to make the first move.  No use taking unnecessary risks, after all.

Tyson was not familiar with the back alleys of New York. Under any other circumstance, his natural speed would have easily outpaced his pursuers, however this was not a strait run that he could simply outdistance them, rather it was a maze that he had no baring on. There were too many scents for him to judge where the right way to go was, and he quickly took a wrong passage down to a dead end. It was too late to turn back as the 4 men appeared at the end of the alley. Cornered, Tyson worked on getting a grip over his instincts, which were now wanting him to fight, and getting stronger as the men got closer.

"Hrrrrrrrr Nrrrrrooooo hrrrrrrrr sssssrrrrttaaayyyy hrrrrrr aaaawwwwaaaaayyyy hrrrrrrrrrr," he said, knowing that he could lose it at any moment. If he did, he was nothing more then an animal. He knew that physically he could tear a person apart, but he didn't want that to happen, he didn't want to be a killer. He covered his eyes and held his head, trying to hold his instincts at bay as long as possible. He could still smell them getting closer, could hear there footsteps and the slow pace of their heart beats. The dull thud of meat and blood, smell of sweat and adrenaline, smell of meat, smell of enemy, smell of meat.... NO! Not a killer... enemy... blood... Noooo...

This wasn't the first time Darkshift had gotten herself involved in a brawl, not by a long shot.  It was the first time she had done so with the full and open use of her powers.  If there was a hint of anxiety in her mind about the prospect of going up against multiple opponents armed with knives and clubs, and there was, it was overrun with the thrill of anticipation.  Here was an opportunity to really test herself and her abilities and, at the same time, help a fellow mutant in trouble.  

Hearing the sounds of garbled speech at a distance not far away, she knew she had to act fast.  If she was reasonably confident of dispatching her assailants there was no such assurance of the stranger and she was, in theory, doing this to help him.  Time, it seemed, was of the essence.

"Come on, what are you waiting for," Darkshift yelled, getting impatient as the thugs tried to gather their courage.  All at once the four of them charged.  Damn.  She had been hoping they'd be stupid thugs and attack one or two at a time.  She'd been stupid and careless and left her back open.

A pocket knife coming from directly in front of her was easily deflected with a scaled arm.  A pipe from the man beside him was ducked under and she managed to draw first blood, leaving four deep red ribbons of blood down his arm.  Unfortunately her eyes couldn't be everywhere and she didn't see the man behind her in order to block a pipe shot to the back of her knee.  The joint buckled and she fell to one knee, wincing in pain.

The four men closed in on Tyson, who was huddled up on the ground shaking violently. The ringleader pulled out a pipe, grinning sadistically as he raised it up and brought it down as hard he could on the wolf mans head. There was a flash of movement on impact, and Tyson snarled as he leapt upon the man who had struck him, his teeth locking onto his shoulder and biting down, tearing out a chunk of flesh and clothing as he brought the man down, falling back in shock and screaming in pain as the wolf man ripped into him. The rest of the men's demeanor changed to panic, as the realized the mistake they had made. One tried to strike Tyson upside the head to get him off the man he was mauling. Tyson however was gone, running purely on instinct, raising his head and catching the mans forearm in his jaw as he changed targets, The man screamed in pain as he bite down, tearing through muscle and crushing bone. He the jerked his head back and forth, ripping at the limb, until it bent at an unnatural angle, and clawed at the man's side with his claws, slicing clothing and flesh as easily as butter. The other two men, horrified at the display, turned and ran.

Tyson's eyes locked on them, he released the man who fell down, groping at his ruined arm as Tyson gave chase after the two runners, leaping on the back of one and sinking his claws in before biting down on the back of the mans shoulder, who screamed before passing out from the shock and pain.

The last man standing ran around the corner, running as fast as his legs could take him. "RUN! GET THE HELL OUT!!" he yelled, ignoring the other mutant and giving in to simple self preservation instinct, passing the the group who looked down the alley, having heard the previous screams and looking anxious. Moments later, Tyson walked around the corner on all fours, dragging the bleeding body of his last victim. The men choosing the route of self preservation, Dropped what they were doing and ran.

Pain blossomed through Darkshift's knee and adrenaline raced through her veins.  This was the kind of thrill she had been lacking in recent life.  This kind of possible life and death situation where to fail was to risk serious injury or worse.  To steal from some drunk coming out of a club late at night was one thing but this, this felt like actually living.  

With a toothy cat-like grin, claws once again flashed slicing through flesh as if it were nothing.  The man with the pipe howled as red blood dropped to the ground in a small stream.  Spinning as a pocket knife was propelled towards her neck, she dodged low and bit down on her attackers's calf, coppery blood filling her mouth.  It was the first time she had used her powers in such a way, with teeth as a weapon to be used in concert with claws. She spat out the blood, taste lingering on her tongue.  

"Leave," she commanded her now far less confident attackers, voice frigid.  It didn't take long for them to determine that this was exactly what was in their best interest and they ran in the opposite direction.  In the distance, she heard the wolf man make a similar command and started jogging in his direction with a slight limp due to her injured knee.  Hopefully he had fared as well as she had.  

Tyson dragged the body around the corner before dropping it. The man was bleeding, unconscious, but alive. The wolf man scanned the alley for more attackers, eyes falling onto the limping woman. Hunting instinct kicked in, and Tyson was reflexively crouched, stalking forward as he sized her up. The scent she gave off was predatory as well, fresh blood on her. It made him pause, as it was not in his best interest to target another potentially dangerous animal as a food source. Injured prey, yes, but currently, he was not hungry enough to make take the risk...

Wait.... Why would he need to hunt? Why... What was he doing...

As adrenaline died down, the flight or flight instincts subsided, and Tyson began realizing what he had just done. The taste of blood, human blood was on his lips, which was stained red, just like his formally white shirt, which was now crimson. As he recalled what he had done, a pained expression of panic washed over his face. He felt sick and weak in the knees. He collapsed onto the ground, rolling to a sitting position and grasping at the side of his head as he processed his actions. " oh god, oh god, oh god," he repeated, not at all focused on forming the words which came out as unintelligible growls and whines. He was shaking with the horror of realization, and felt bile rising in the back of his throat. He leaned over onto his hands and began hurling a mixture of stomach acid and blood. He could hardly breath, and realized he was still covered in blood. He tore at his a shirt, quickly ripping off strips of material before managing to break through the collar and tearing it away from him, throwing the to away before curling up into a fetal position, all but paralyzed with fear, loathing and disgust for himself. What had he done? What was he? What was wrong with him?

Darkshift tensed seeing the wolf man and the feral look in his eyes.  She didn't have a lot of experience with other mutants let alone feral mutants, but ever since starting to work with Aura she had done her research.  Feral mutants could, according to the internet, sometimes lose themselves in their instincts and act in a fashion that might otherwise be irrational.  "Hey, I'm not here to hurt you."  She spoke in soothing quiet tones.  That was what she was supposed to do, right?  Its not like she had any real experience to go on, she was pretty much just winging it here.

Fortunately the wolf man calmed down and it was only after the immediate danger had dissipated that she realized just how badly the body in front of her had been injured.  There was a lot of blood.  Where she had left her would be attackers in a state to run off and lick there wounds, this poor man was not nearly so lucky.  He was still breathing, so that was something.  For how long she couldn't say; she was far from a medical professional.

"We don't want to be here when this man is found," Darkshift spoke quickly, assessing the situation to the best of her ability.  "We should get out of her and find a phone to call an ambulance.  I think we both want to see him live, but not if it means going to jail ourselves."  She was not about to sacrifise herself for some human, let alone some human who would have had them both dead if he had his way.

Tyson could barely hear Darkshift as she started talking, he was still in a state of shock and horror. He felt weak in his limbs, short of breath, he was in no state to make a run for it. It was the logical thing to do, it was probably what he wanted to do, but his body wasn't responding. Instead all he could do is stare at the bleeding body, at what he had done, flashing back to a darker time when he had been forced to do similar things. But this time he had no excuse he could rationalize, he wasn't under someone's control. This had been him, he had lost control and done exactly what he had feared he would do. It shook him to his core, destroying more of his grip on his humanity, his belief that things could get better.

"hrrrrr whaaat havvve I doooone..." he repeated to himself, lost in the horror of what was before him, cycling through the event over and over, "whhhhat am I?" A monster, he thought, exactly what he wanted, his father. He turned him into a monster, and there was no escaping it. Even separated from the man, whatever he had done was still in him, a dangerous, feral creature ready to kill and maim. He huddled into himself, griping his arms so hard his claws dug into his flesh and started bleeding, but taking no notice, numb with the revelation that he was little more then an animal.

"You've defended yourself," Darkshift replied, voice firm.  "He attacked you, not the other way around.  You aren't the bad guy here, remember that."  She wanted to get out of there and get out of there fast.  Yes, it was plenty sad that the man had gotten eviscerated and probably the wolf man had gone a little overboard, but her words were true, damn it!  It wasn't really his fault, he hadn't started any of this just worked to defend himself.  The longer the two of them stood there with the body the greater the chance of people showing up and calling the cops on them.  That was not what she needed and she was pretty sure he didn't either.

"Look, we've all lost control of our powers once or twice and sometimes people have gotten hurt because of it but that doesn't' make you a monster it makes you someone who makes mistakes.  We've all been there.  But we have to leave and we have to leave now.  Once gone, we can call for medical attention.  If we leave now he'll probably make it."  So maybe that last part was a bit of an exaggeration given that she had absolutely no idea how serious his wounds were or what was or was not likely to make it, but it sounded good and hopefully it was enough to get him to move.

Tyson listened as the woman tried to reassure him. She was trying to tell him it wasn't his fault, it was self defense. Was it? He had tried to run, they had attacked him, yes. That made sense. Was he just acting in self defense? Did it count that way in this situation? He had to believe it did, he was barely holding on as it was. He was only trying to protect himself and lost it. That had to be the case, he wasn't a monster, he wasn't. If he gave in now there was no hope, he would get a cure, he had to hold out until then, he couldn't let the monster in him win. He had to hold on.

The womans words helped, he started to come out of it. She was right, they needed to call someone for medical attention for these guys. Even if they had attacked him, he didn't want them to die because of him. He wasn't a killer. He began to rise, fighting the feel of nausea and weakness that pulled at his limbs. It felt like trying to move through molasses. He was still suffering the aftermath of the shock, but at least he was moving. He had to lean against the wall, but he started walking, slowly, trying not to collapse under the weight of emotions still running amok in his head. He realized his hands and face were still covered in blood, he could only imagine the panic if people saw that when he came out of the alley. He didn't have anything to clean it off, not after he had torn his shirt away. "hhhrrrrr blooood ooon meeee," he said weakly, "wiiiillll scarrre peoople hrrr." If he could run, he could probably get by without people really noticing, but right now he was strggling just to keep walking, he couldn't muster the incentive just yet to go all out like that.

Darkshift was pretty sure she was getting through to him, as the look in his eyes started to clear, just a little bit.  The words he spoke, garbled as they were, reassured her further of this.  "I think I've got a place we can go.  We'll be safe there and you'll be able to clean up."  Aura had told her that she could come to Sanctuary at any time, no matter what.  Up until now she hadn't had the need to do so, but she was pretty sure this qualified as one of those 'no matter what' type situations.  Of course, her own little bachelor might be safe too but no matter what words she spoke, the wolf man was dangerous and she wasn't comfortable bringing a potentially dangerous mutant into her home.

"You're right though, even if we stick to the back alleys, all the blood might be a problem."  With a thought, scales melted into fur and her panther's head melted back into her usual pale human head.  The fur stopped at the base of her neck and ends of her wrists, allowing her to mostly pass for human.  She claws remained because they weren't nearly out of danger yet.  


Darkshift took off her trenchcoat and handed it over to the wolf man.  Underneath she wore a black long sleeved shirt and black pants and her fur could only be seen at the ends of the sleeves.  "It'll be a bit small for you but it'll hide the worse of the blood.  I'm afraid I don't have anything to hide your head.  I'm Darkshift, by the way."

Tyson took the tench-coat in one hand, leaving a bloody paw print that was camouflaged by the black coloration. He didn't try putting it on, he knew his claws would shred the sleeves if he tried to fit it on him, especially with the size difference. Instead he draped it over his shoulder and head, covering up as much blood as he could and keeping his hands concealed. He would still look a sight, but people would not see the blood, not unless the looked under the coat, and the furry legs and claws were probably enough to dissuade the curious.

He fell in behind Darkshift, letting her lead the way. He wasn't in any condition to argue where he went, but it had to be away from here, away from the scent of blood and his actions. He listened to Darkshifts name, thinking it probably wasn't her real name. He knew some mutants used pseudo-names that related to their abilities, so he figured that was what she was giving him. "Rrrrrrr Tyson," he said in return, he didn't have a second name, nor did he really think he needed one since he was hoping for a cure.