[event] --the heart wants what it wants || jaye

There had never been a time when Bane hadn’t wanted to destroy the happy lives of demigods. Killing children had been programmed into his brain since the moment he was born, and it was quite literally instinctual to kill a camper on sight. Of course, Bane had been trained not to maul the followers of his master Kronos, and that had been a gruelling process of whips and starvation, and Bane had finally learned to keep his muzzle glued shut whenever someone walked by him in the camp. He had never really been an obedient pup, but he decided that anything was better than sitting in a dark and dank dungeon with barely any raw meat to keep him from dying. Even now that he was out of the cage of doom, Bane still wanted to destroy every living thing in his path, and that included the followers of the titans. It was strange that he could remember this stuff, considering that five years ago he couldn’t even recall what his real name was. Bane was the name that had been given to him by a dark haired camper with a stump leg when he’d first arrived snarling in the cage he’d been captured in. Hellhounds were not meant to be kept as pets, and the boy had to have known that, but he still formed an attachment with Bane nonetheless. Their relationship was quite one-sided, Bane only acted like he cared so that he got extra rations of meat, and eventually when the special treatment stopped, he ate the boy. The moral of the story? Don’t mess with a raging hungry hellhound because you could die. 

As it turned out, Bane was hungry now. His stomach echoed pitiful howls of malnutrition, and the hellhound figured that he needed to get something good to eat. After all, the demigods that were in charge of him had done something that he could never dream of doing: breaking into the other camp. Everyone was happy and eating things Bane had only seen once or twice, so it had to have been good. The only logical thing for Bane to do was to celebrate alone and away from everything, maybe get a good mountain lion and just gnaw on it all night long. Perhaps if he was lucky, there would not be any injections tonight. Bane shivered not because of the cold, but because of the memories that had resurfaced. He remembered various campers giving him shots to improve his memory, focus, and stamina. His muscles twitched afterwards, and he often convulsed for a number of hours before going numb against the world. After a couple of months, Bane realised that he had purple barbs intertwined with his jet black fur. They were poisonous.

During his race down the forest hill, Bane caught sight of a car zooming down a road. Putting two and two together in his small mind, the hellhound realised that the contraption had humans inside it. Humans were certainly a treat, one that Bane certainly deserved. So he hid in the bushes when it stopped, and he watched as the girl turned from annoyed at the boy to agitated, every so often glancing at the bush in which Bane was in. Soon the boy, the driver, got out and opened the car door. Bane restituted himself so as to get a better look at where he could attack from, but stepped on a branch. This proved to be fatal, because both demigods looked over to where he was. Bane then decided to jump out of the bushes. With a snarl that sent the ground vibrating, he tackled the boy and started to claw at his face.

The only thing that Bane could feel was blood. Red, hot, boiling blood that swelled up beneath his claws in thick bubbles that soaked into his skin. The hellhound enjoyed all kinds of blood and found that each animal had something different for him to discover. Deer blood, for example, was runny but rich in iron, and squirrel blood made for a delicious feast if you could catch one. But despite having almost every woodland animal the forest had to offer, Bane had to say that demigod blood was his favorite. The ichor of a god had been known to be sweet like golden syrup, although Bane would never get a chance to try such a succulent treat. While mortals blood was metallic tasting and rich in iron, the demigod children got the best of both worlds. The hellhound found their blood to be surprisingly sweet, just a hint of godly feature in their vital fluid. Mauling a child was so addicting to Bane, all he wanted was the blood. 

Which was why it was so easy for him to start lacerating the boy he’d pinned down. He had to admit that the loss of an arm was a bit of a surprise, but that didn’t stop Bane. On the contrary, it made it quite easier, because the boy couldn’t push the hellhound off of him. Although the demigod was strong for his age, Bane toward over him and clearly had the upper hand in the battle. He snarled in the boy’s face, sending foaming spit flying out of his putrid mouth, which was filled with rows of glistening yellow teeth, bared to rip the demigod’s throat out. While Bane continued to rip into the skin, he had to resist the urge to lick the blood up. He shouldn’t waste all of the glorious scarlet liquid, because it maybe be a couple more months until he had a kill such as this. So Bane went to bite at the boy’s throat, meaning to transform this candle from fire of life to smoke of death.

Apparently though it was not fated for the hellhound to have such a feast, because a knife slashed into his flank. The boy pushed Bane off as he howled and screamed in pain, looking for the culprit. It was a girl. A girl of all things had stopped him from completing his self-designated task of killing. As the pair started to get into the car, Bane stood in front of them and tensed up. Two long and slender purple barbs shot out from his back, one piercing the car’s windshield and the other grazing the girl’s arm. The spikes were poisonous, and even a graze such as that could be very deadly. Bane would have his feast anyways.