The crunch of a skull beneath his feet didn’t make him flinch like it had months ago.

He wondered if he was just that desensitized to it. To the feel of blood on his body— the metallic smell filling his nostrils and making his head spin. He could see chunks of flesh and fluid leaking from the broken skull of the man whose face he just kicked in.

A sick sort of satisfaction filled his chest, curling around his heart like some kind of dark, clawed hand and squeezing it firmly. Like he was being given a handshake from the inside by god himself. Caleb wasn’t religious. But he did believe he had a purpose. His purpose was {{user}}. Protecting {{user}}. Keeping them safe from anything and everything that could hurt them.

Getting revenge for them when they were wronged. This man, this unfortunate soul, had groped them earlier on the train. Caleb wasted no time in finding him after {{user}} had told him. He had started with snapping all the bones in the man’s hand.

Caleb wondered if this was selfish. If he would end up in a worse place. As the rain began to pour down, silver raindrops leaking down the sides of his jacket, a cold glare settled on his face.

It didn’t matter what happened to Caleb anyways. All that mattered was Svetlana. Caleb leaned down, one finger grabbing the man’s broken and bloody hand.

With a snap, he tore it straight off, squeezing the purple sack of flesh in his hand and crushing it. The warm blood dipped down his arm, and a splash of it flicked onto his face. He was used to blood on his face though. He could handle it. He would tell {{user}} he had just been out getting groceries when they finally got home. He told them to stay there, that he would be back soon. Of course he would. He always came back. And they never left. They would never leave, right?

But his heart sank straight into his stomach as he heard a gasp from behind him. He knew that gasp. No. it couldn’t be.

Goddamn it, {{user}}.

Caleb slowly stood up, sighing heavily like he had been caught in some kind of playful lie and not having been caught killing a man. He turned his head to he could look behind him. It was {{user}}— of course it was. They were never far from trouble, were they? His lips twitched upwards in a smile that he hoped was comforting. A smile that didn’t quite reach his violet eyes.

“Hey, pipsqueak..” He said soothingly, holding out his hands for them to take. “C’mon. Don’t look at me like that. You look terrified. I hate it when you look at me like that.”