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"Batter? You are here, yes? Batter?" The cat strutted through the abandoned strip mall, wandering in and out of closed stores, searching. He drags along a dog's corpse in his mouth, its throat slashed to ribbons. Still, somehow his voice doesn't come out muffled at all.
The lot is north of the residential area, and quite empty. Japhet remembers, both distantly and rather bored, it used to be accessible through the mall. The shops closed down due to lack of foot traffic, and eventually the entrance got covered up.
"Batter? Don't keep me waiting, sports man."
Catching the scent of blood, he makes his way to the store at the far end of the lot. Japhet noses his way in, and there is find The Batter, hunched over a pile of corpses, rooting around for loot.
"There you are, you fool. I had been searching all day across my beloved Bismark for you."
The Batter lifted his head to look at Japhet, "What do you want."
"Hmph. My skin has grown quite putrid, I am to switch it for another." He drops the dog on the metal floor. "Normally I would bear myself raw on my rooftop, but it is unusually populated at present."
The Batter sniffs at him, but says nothing.
Japhet continues, "Were I to reveal myself to the Elsen they would surely go quite mad-- not to mention the immodesty! --at my brilliance." He picks at the corpse, licking it's dark fur clean. "And I'd hate to get my feathers dirty."
A beak peeks out from the cat's mouth, and somehow the whole animal manages to grin at him. "You, dear purifier, need not do more than watch the door. And bask in my beauty, obviously."
The Batter, for his part, acts as if he had not heard the bird at all. He wipes his bloody hands on his tunic and stands as the remains of the spectres dissolve. He leaves to inspect the rest of the room-- perhaps he had been ambushed and hadn't the time to walk around. He starts rifling through boxes in the corner opposite Japhet, seemingly not finding anything of use. After a beat he says to the bird, or perhaps to the room itself, "Whatever," and throws a glance towards the door.
Japhet was busy wriggling out of his old skin. Head comes first, of course, his long neck slinking out of the cat's throat, the joints of his wings squeezing through next. The rotten skin and fur stretches easily, distended. Normally, one would have no idea the skin suit was actually a corpse, but with its puppet strings cut it starts to stink.
"Khm," Japhet grunts, wings free and beak picking and pulling at the cat's back half. The batter had come to lean against the doorframe, watching the firebird with a very intentional air of indifference on top of his usual intensity.
He manages to free one leg, and the second comes quickly after. The bird rises near to his full height, pressed flat against the ceiling. Then, in one smooth motion, he slides to the floor, preening his feathers.
Abruptly, Japhet opens his beak, voice tumbling out. "Silent in awe, ballman? I know, to witness my brilliance twice in one life is a rare blessing."
The Batter turns to look out the door, grip on his bat tightening subtly.
The firebird continues, picking corpse goo and cat fur out of his feathers. "I can imagine how attached you must be to your vessel, humanoid as it is. At least it's good for something, unlike those cowards I call my people. Although of course, it still is no match for my strength and beauty."
Suddenly, The Batter scoffs, "It is an instrument of justice, nothing more. A tool to be used. I use it because it works, not because I am," he scowls hard, "attached to it." He says it like an insult.
He inspects his hands, then covers his mouth and shudders, ever so slightly. He fixes his gaze firmly out the door. His hands, now at his sides, curl into fists.
The bird tuts somewhat distractedly, "What is a purifier to do?", beak still buried in his feathers. He hums, preening one side to perfection, shaking himself out and starting again. The dog's empty eyes stare unblinkingly at the wall. The Batter starts tapping his foot near silently.
Time passes, the only sound being Japhet's shuffling and the distant noise of the waves.
The purifier stands, stock still as always, as the Firebird dives beak-first into a dead dog. Wings braced against the wall, legs wide. The corpse's jaw stretches unnaturally. Flies buzz idly; Japhet was snapping at them earlier, now they fly unbothered.
It's a reverse of his previous action head, then wings, chest, legs, tail, each swallowed up by the corpse's black fur and white teeth. The dog--Japhet, lies on his back, limbs curled like a dead bug. He twitches and writhes unnaturally, out of reflex, the Batter raises his weapon.
And suddenly, those eyes aren't so empty. They're looking at him--and grinning.
It stand up, and licks it's fur. He sneers at the rotting pile of cat skin, and struts past the Batter and into Zone 2.
"You're done here," He says, boredly.
The Batter watches him go.