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Posted by Strega on November 7, 2009, 1:21 pm, in reply to "-Part 3-"
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“Wait.” It was The Rat this time. “I want to remember. I won't tell anyone, I promise.”
Savage was looking him over, and he continued. “I have similar powers to yours, just lower-level. I want to remember how you did that, maybe learn something new about my own body.”
Savage considered. The Rat was a were rather than a mutated animal, something of a mirror image of him. Still, of f the Four, Rat was closest to his own street-level habits, and to his powers. They had worked together before.
“All right.”
Chill and Stature had no such interest in remembering the horrific feeding, and were soon “flashed” and unconscious. Savage gave the two remaining heroes and nod and leaped back to the other rooftop. As he moved he faded, switching between an urban-colors pattern and the more energy intensive adaptive camouflage. With a last barely seen flick of his tail, he was gone.
“Hopefully that's the last we'll see of the Professor, barring a clone, other-dimensional counterpart, robot duplicate, time travel...”
Doomknight wasn't listening. “That wasn't why you wanted to remember, was it?”
The Rat smiled, his chisel teeth hanging out as always. He was thinking about the glimpse he'd had of the tiger's wide-open maw. It had looked...inviting.
“Maybe.”
*****
Savage was back on the water tank, lying half on his belly and half on his side. It allowed the bulge from his meal some freedom, while his forepaws and nose stretched sphinx-like to the rim so he could watch the drug dealer down below.
He put the thought of the meal firmly behind him. It did not pay to think too much about that sort of thing, or else the little drug dealer would slide squirming down his throat, and then the next drug dealer, and the next gang-banger, and eventually the heroes would come looking for him with less than friendly intentions.
The Professor's balled-up cloak and armorcloth outfit still lay between his paws. In an hour or so, when he was sure the shadow-walker's clothing was well soaked in acid and hopefully mostly digested, he'd swallow it. It was very unlikely the Professor had done something as odd as treat the two outfits with the two halves of an explosive compound, but you never know. Just as important as being secretive about his occasional eating habits was being cautious about them.
250 or so pounds of supervillains had made him a fine meal. He could go without eating for a day or so now as long as he didn't have to regenerate a lot of damage, shapechange, or use his adaptive camouflage too much. The flip side of that was on the rare occasions when he ate far too much, he could burn off fat by shape-changing. It kept him in fighting trim as much as roaming the rooftops did.
Tomorrow he'd deposit what was left of the two villains in a convenient manhole and stop by the meat packing plant. Maybe for a snack, but not for a serious meal. He'd heard rumors that the local gangs we trying to start up a protection racket again.
The protector of the neighborhood lay his chin on his paws and dozed a little. He was content and well-liked. After all, what better superhero for the stockyards district than a giant tiger?
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