Cain's sense of smell was a shark. A drop of blood in the water they could have smelled you miles before you realized. It was very similar to him. His senses were animalistic in nature, and he had to adapt that way. The scent of a person wasn't just their body odor or natural musk. It was also the smell of their tears and their blood. Their urine and even their seminal fluids. These had various odors, somewhere more blatant and some couldn't really be sniffed out by the human nose because it simply was not strong enough. And he couldn't really be fazed by powerful aromas, confused maybe, but never overwhelmed.
The shifting winds meant Kaycee's various bodily odors were now drifting towards him. He could tell many things from her scent. Not just she was a girl, but a juvenile still. She wasn't aroused, but cautious even afraid. She hadn't had sex yet either. She was above, ad behind him a ways. He didn't smell gunpowder but he did smell faint traces of sulfur like a fire had been lit recently near her.As long as she stayed put and didn't try to attack, he was happy to let her go. Though another part of him chided him for letting prey go like that. But that was soon to be...rectified.
Several other traces, most foul aromas. Maybe not to others living in this area as humanity had long since lost the ability to keep up with bathing regularly. The waters were still tainted with radiation. Though there were purifiers, there was only so much they could do. So bathing on a regular basis was simply not going to work. Not with the only sources of power in shambles and were few and far between. Several figures emerged from another street entirely. Wielding mundane weapons; crowbars and tire irons--one even had a fire axe.
Their skin was covered in mud and grit. Their faces filthy and hair matted. They were a mixture of men women. Vagabonds. Junkies looking for a fix. To Cain, they were like a buffet. They didn't know he had claws and teeth. Or just how strong he really was, or how fast his reflexes were. They were looking for an opportunity to gang up and steal his weapons and clothing--maybe leave him for him for dead if they didn't outright try to bash his skull in. But time and again, the world showed humans that they weren't the top predators anymore. The dead rose, mutations of animals that made them into something completely different and completely deadly.
Chuckles and sneers came from the lot, while an eerie rasping came from but one.
"Look a this guys," The leader of this motley crew lifted his arm directing the axe towards Cain. " Seems we have ourselves fine pickin's tonight." The group cheered and started surrounding the individual.
Cain breathed, releasing a raspy, deep voice. " There are only four of you...I smell five." He commented. " Although...the one I smell is a lot younger than you rabble, perhaps I shouldn't be so hasty."
"Huh? What the fuck you talkin' 'bout?!" ne of the others yelled. They were all addicts. You could see it in their eyes. Always wanting a quick fix. An escape from this world.
"You gone bat shit crazy or sumthin'? " Another asked.
Cain's head swung one way slowly, the next. He spotted out a burnt out, rusted car. Walking towards it the group followed, staying uniformly around him in a 'u' shape. This individual stored his assault rifle inside the destroyed car, even taking the shotgun off his shoulder and storing it away as well.
"Holy shit Clive, this guy really is fucking nuts." The second guy told their leader.
"Yeah, well it makes it a lot easier for us to bash his fucking skull in. Go get him! Bring me his fucking teeth after you kick them out!" Clive responded, standing back while three members of his party--two men and one woman engaged Cain.
The first attack would come with the clap of thunder, signalling it was about to down pour. The the man to Cain's immediate left came with his arm reared back behind him. In his hand was a heavy wrench, like those used to fix cars like the one behind Cain. The man swung hard, the physical exertion evident as it met the frame of the car. He didn't hit what he intended to. It was just about that time, in the instant that lightening flashed, Cain had buried a tomahawk into the man's throat.
He dropped the wrench. His choking and gasping as blood pour out and no air poured, was heard around them. His hands, trembling tried to pry at the hand that had embedded the source of his pain, but it was like fighting a steel trap once it had shut. His eyes stared up at the black visored gasmask. Fear gripping him as Cain took a breath, then, as though maliciously, flung the man's entire body as ifhe had no other choice, slamming his skull off the corner of the car and tore out his throat. The man's body spun around from so much force and just collapsed.
The body sliding down the tire leaving a massive puddle of blood and gore behind. The other two looked at each other in shock then back at the black masked man who now held a tomahawk out to his side drenched in blood. They would hear the crunching of bone, but could tell where it was coming from. It was Cain. He was chewing the human remains; snapping the bones so he could get at the marrow. He started walking forwards slowly. The pair responded.
The second man swung the tire iron outwards, hoping to strike at Cains face. However, Cain simply bought the axe up. The point at the tip tore through his lower mandible. Bones splinter causing his jaw to snap shut suddenly. His screams muffled now. His insults were silenced. t tore his tongue from its fixed place and pinned it to the roof of his mouth. The woman aimed for Cains abdomen, stabbing with a small stiletto. However, she forgot to account for the large hardened ceramic plates in his vest meant to stop rifle rounds. It did no good here. Cain kicked the man he'd just maimed back and down, his body sliding a few feet away.
Turning to the woman one massive gloved hand gripped her throat. On contact with her chest, she'd forcefully expelled her breath. Cain slowly lifted her high into the air. She was now more than seven feet off the ground--dangling. His hands around her throat, he could feel the bones shifting. Her legs were kicking, her hands trying to pry him away. There was a loud audible 'pop' and she went limp. He tossed her body aside like a sopping wet rag doll. He turned to the leader--Clive. He unceremoniously, dropped the axe and ran for his life.
Cain tilted his head, removed his side arm and fired striking the man in the lower back. Wounding him but not killing him. He then stepped over to the man with an axe nailing his mouth shut as he didn't dare touch it--it hurt too damn much. Cain didn't have that issue. He put one boot to the mans chest, grabbed the handle, and tore out his jaw. The addict slumped back down, his tongue or whatever was left now lie in his wide open throat. Once the hatchet was free of the mandible, he set pace towards this Clive fellow.
Once upon him, he loomed over the man as he rolled over like a dog. Funny how that worked, wasn't it?
"W-W-Who are you?! What are you?!" Clive whimpered, trembling. Not because he was feeling the chill of the rain that was washing away his life slowly leaking out. But the large masked figure didn't give an answer he just...breathed raspily and rose his arm.
N-N-N-No! No! N-" The voice was cut short and abruptly. The sound of silence after the sicking noise of a head being severed from its host.
Cain never liked being what he was. In fact, he detested it. But there was human in him and the human will to survive was stronger than his prayers of just being another animal that was to be shot. A lot of the times,he felt like Cain from the old testament. Never good enough and always forsaken. He held no malice towards people in general. But what he had turned into craved their flesh. Without it he'd die. It was a curse,and he wondered who else had been stricken with inexplicable gifts. Gifts that made them outcasts. Gifts that left them curse. Gifts that left them alone in the dark, scared to think..you might not just make it this day.