Summary: "You're not one worthy of that title." Dan-centric.
Warnings: Slight AU, violence, language, drabbly
Disclaimer: Capcom and GHM. You know the drill.
An angry man of middle age, of American descent, of guilt. Of fear, for her had destroyed himself. Yet he was death defying.
Because we all know that even though you may be able to sense and hear danger, it's impossible to know where it comes from unless you can see. Sight is the only way in this world and hell, he's blind. If he values his life, he'll keep running.
Run down this path and you're screwed.
Run down that path and you're screwed anyway.
He was defenseless and stupid, having no weapon. No gun, no club, no knife, 'What is WRONG WITH YOU! You value your life? Ten dollars you won't last a second in the real world.'
The man in black, a smart, clean three-piece. He smirks, and Ethan knew that he was going to die. Whether it be by that man's hand, or by one of those mad bombers that approached him, silent and invisible.
And the only ones Dan Smith killed were ones that deserved to die. This one needed to die, and the world needed an uprising. This one was too brainless and gullible. "Where ya gonna go if you don't know how to survive?"
He kicked a small lump of flesh that landed close to him, staining the sole of his new shoe, adopting his own title.
"You bastard. You've got nothing on Wrath. I'll be Wrath, and you'll be dead."