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Isiah blinked, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "How'd you come to figure this out?"

Isiah ran his eyes over the other members of the pathetic gathering, hair rising on the back of his neck, like a dog getting defensive. He wasn't sure he believed Tsurai just yet.. Nobody here had the same strength he did, run down from months of hardship. But there was always power in numbers.. Why the ******** would anyone care if he was gay?

"Who'd you tell?!" Was the question immediately following.

Isiah grunted. "Maybe he is an old f*****t. We should go makeout or something." He groaned, rubbing his temples with his knuckles. Why the ******** would anyone care, this day and age? Not enough to.. Well, maybe Braeden had..

Braeden doesn't have that much influence, Isiah mused. Not even in his dreams. Who could he have convinced to help him? There weren't enough denziens.. well.. he had seen Braeden, for sure. And that kid he was talking to... He took another look at the camp of misfits, eyeing the younger crowd, kids Tsurai's age and younger.

"That evil ******** s**t," He murmured, shaking his head back and forth. He returned to normal volume. "We can't just let him run off with our s**t, Tsurai. It's a matter of principle. And for your information-" He sneered. "I could make it SO much more obvious."

Isiah threw his hands up, standing, marching over toward where Braeden was standing and talking, a cigarette burning on his lower lip. Braeden paused in speech, turning to look toward Isiah. "Can I help you, sonny?"

Isiah snorted, eyes cut into slits, teeth bared in a sneer. "Gimme my ******** lighter and bunsen burner, you little two-bit thief."

"Why I do declare," Braeden fluttered his eye lashes, the southern accent coming out gayer than Siegfried and Roy in Versace. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Isiah plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, and turned it, grabbing Braeden's jaw and holding it open, plunging the burning end against Braeden's tongue. "Give me my s**t, you old f*****t!"

Braeden yowled, spitting the cigarette out to hit the other Denzien square in the forehead. Isiah blinked, eyes crossed momentarily as he watched the cigarette's spit laden descent down his nose before it fell to the ground. Braeden tore his head from Isiah's grip, turning his head to spit again, scraping his tongue along his front teeth. "********! You see this?" Braeden was addressing the growing crowd of onlookers while backing away from the younger Denzien, Isiah's fists clenched tightly, shoulders tensed and ready. "********' crazy f*****t thinks I stole his s**t!"

Isiah's eye twitched. "Crazy f*****t? I'll ******** SHOW you crazy f*****t!" Isiah closed the distance between them with one long stride, grabbing Braeden by the back of the head, bringing him down on his raised kneecap. Braeden took the blow solidly- maybe a little too easily- falling face first into Isiah's knee before rolling to the side and onto his back, one of his hands splayed behind his head, panting.

Braeden's hand slid underneath a raggedy blanket, fishing around with tiny minute movements before his fingers closed around a padded handle, panting. Isiah descended on him, the crowd tightening around him, breathing quickly, mouth ajar, canines gleaming. "You're ******** crazy!" Braeden, stayed on the ground, pulling his hand out from underneath the blanket, scrambling backward on his hands and feet like a crab. "Stay away from me!"

Isiah snarled, teeth shining. "That's what you've got for me now, p***y?! Give me my ******** s**t back!"

"I didn't take anything, you ******** idiot!" Braeden faked the desperate tones that played on his words extremely well. "Just back off!"

Isiah bent down over him and yanked him up by his collar, pulling back his other fist to send another blow into his face when he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by the warmth of gushing blood.

Braeden smiled, laughing in his throat, plunging the knife in deeper, his hand tight around the handle. "You made me do it, you dumb b*****d," He whispered.

Isiah froze in place, eyes tightening, countenance contorting in suddenly intense pain, tears welling along his lower lids. "Oh you little ********.."

Braeden, stumbled back, his grip firm on the knife, enough to tug on it before finally releasing- Isiah gave a low, infuriated growl of excruciating pain at the tug, stumbling backward, wrapping an arm around his torso to gingerly press his hand on either side of the blade, attempting to at least pause the blood flow.

"You ******** p***y ********..." Isiah stumbled back a few more steps, the crowd nebulously pushing back to give him a wide berth, his knees shaking a little from the hurt.

Braeden raised his hand after the chair made contact, flailing uselessly in an attempt to catch one of it's legs, trying to yank it out of Tsurai's hands. "C'mon, kid, don't make me hurt you!"

Braeden was charging down at Tsurai, swinging the chair and letting it go at the apex of the swing, tossing it right into his face- the tossed jacket slowed it's progress, the chair falling down to weakly hit Tsurai in the lower torso.

Isiah was still crouched over, mumbling curse after curse. "In my ********' ribs, that's where!" He shut his eyes tightly to force back tears. It was bad enough he'd gotten ******** stabbed..

Braeden growled, picking the chair up again, pulling his arms back to swing at him, when someone grabbed him by his forearm. "Braeden, he's just a kid!" Another person grabbed his other arm and yanked him back a foot, his feet scraping along dirt. "******** chill out!"

Braeden panted, brow furrowed forward in anger, throwing the chair down and yanking his arms out of the other's grip, cursing. Attention was shifted toward Isiah, who was less than happy to take it.

Isiah choked back and nodded. "I can breathe fine.. God I'm gonna kill that ********.."

Braeden brushed himself off, speaking in quick Denzien to the same group of teenagers he was always talking to- Isiah ignored it, the gutteral language more painful than the stabwound was. "Tell me quick where you want me, kid." His knees were buckling- he felt like such a sissy.