Mint Gum and Shattered Teeth

Red.

Red was hands down his favorite color.

It was the color of apples, the color of sunsets, the color of stop signs.

It was the color of roses, the color of cardinals, the color of Christmas.

It was the color of terror, the color of sin, the color of rage.

The color of blood.

And it was the color of his favorite dress!

Red was, hands down, Micah's favorite color.

Wearing his favorite dress when he goes out to paint the town red had several good points. One good point was that he was wearing his favorite outfit and his favorite color while doing his favorite thing, and that could really be the end of the discussion. But the shade of red hid the stains of blood nicely, although not the gray of shattered skills and brain matter, but that's why he had someone acting as a dedicated clean up act.

Having fun was a team effort, after all.

Micah blew a bubble with the gum he was chewing. He'd already acted that night, his black flats and red socks stained in a way that was barely noticeable, although the stench of death hung thickly around him as he popped the bubble gum and chewed it back up in preparation for another.

He tightened the red cloak and pulled it low over his head, He was going for a Little Red Riding Hood thing tonight, which is something he only did on special occasions.

His brain reminded him that everyday he was around to bless the world with his presence was a special occasion, and he had to agree. Who wouldn't want to be around someone as amazingly charismatic as him? No one, that was who.

He splashed into a puddle, washing off some of the blood from his nice shoes, but tainting the water red. He wasn't trying to be particularly sneaky.

After all, to him this was just a fun game.

@Aedan Drago

Micah hummed as he walked, seemingly unaware of his surroundings as he walked through the narrow gap between the buildings.

In reality, Micah was never really unaware of anything. Coming from a dimension far above this one, and living for eons of time, there was very little he couldn't parse, or understand. Plus, he could sense the feelings of violence in others, their malicious intent, almost as if they were wafting it under his nose. It smelled so sweet, so pathetic... he loved it.

Just being in presence of Wrath brought him such exquisite joy that he actually couldn't contain himself! He started skipping.

Of course, even if he couldn't sense anything, it would be hard to miss a grappling hook ripping through the air and sheathing itself into the brittle brick that most of the bad side of town was made of.

He jumped over the flying vigilante's head, landing on the ground with a dainty click of his black shoes.

Micah tilted his head, his hood casting most of his face into shadow.

"Well! That was rude, don't you think?"

"Ooh, a tough guy. I think I'm shaking." Micah said, his face breaking into a big smile. It had been a long time since someone had come up to him and picked a fight. Usually he was the one who picked fights, called names, acted like a brat. But it was interesting to see it from the perspective of someone who wasnt him for once. He didn't know what this guy's problem was--it wasn't like he could actually hope to best Wrath in battle.

But it was nice to have dreams.

The knives came at him, and his arm changed. It grew longer and longer, his fingers melding together, arm flattening and losing all saturation until it became a metallic gray. The transformation was fast, taking a fraction of a second. Micah's sword-arm made many quick arcs in the air, knocking the throwing knives off their path.

He could tell by the way that he was moving that he was a skilled opponent. And skilled opponents made this kind of thing fun! His sword came from above, and his mind considered a few options, eventually deciding to move diagonally out of his range before jumping himself. His jump took him strangely high, and his sword hand became a hammer of impressive size.

Micah dove, his body suddenly dropping like brick, this momentum carrying through to his hammer.