Here’s a Rage one-shot for you

Silence was a rare treat and was greatly accepted within the Opposite. When there weren’t sounds of bloody assassination or violent birdsong ringing through the rancid and dangerous woodland, it could almost be considered peaceful, were it not a place of deadly intemperance.

Even rarer was a period of time, an oasis of rest, where Rage Itself was not lurking amongst the real world. These rare moments came few and far between. But regardless, the silence was brief.

“You can’t tell me that Innocence has another student,” said the harsh voice of Bone’s elder brother Cliff. Rage sat up from his place in the blood-colored dirt, cocking one ear in the unstable wolf’s direction, a welcoming gesture for complaints. “You said that you wouldn’t let another one discover their powers. What happened to your promises?”

“I’m sure he’s got a mighty fine plan,” Woad spat scathingly, her judgmental tone clearly hoping to drill daggers into Rage’s conscience. However, she failed to do so, as at this point Rage was not affected by the words of others. Though he certainly enjoyed to pretend to be.

Pivoting towards the trio of wolves complaining behind him, he fixated them with a grin. Their scornful voices fell silent instantly as he gave them his attention. He was sure that, in addition to his cracking smile, his pupils were dilated into almost nothing, giving pale blue rings of insanity for them to look into. “We shan’t complain here in the forest, hm?” he asked them jestingly, pushing himself to his feet and stalking towards them. His open ribcage rattled in the sulfurous wind that moaned through the treetops, his open throat feeling drier than ever due to the gusts that embraced them.

Cliff scoffed and Thistle retaliated with, “You can’t expect us NOT to complain!” Woad looked on judgmentally, though her previously talkative self had seemed to have fallen precariously silent now that Rage was addressing them.

Rage’s ears flipped to the side as a new sound- that of footfalls over the boggy forest floor- teased his ears. He snapped his head in that direction, teeth clicking together and ankle joints grinding into one another in their painful way. The contrasting white body of Snowbank was approaching, his ears angled back, his footsteps careful.

The battle-worn wolf was never comfortable in the Opposite, unable to settle. Probably because Rage was the one who killed him in the first place. But then again, that was true of many wolves that walked the dark forest.

“Good morning, Snowbank,” Rage offered as the wolf drew nearer. He eyed Rage with nervousness, his expression and posture lacking any trace of trust. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Or, better would it be if I asked, what have you come to complain about today?”

Snowbank grunted out a sigh full of frustration. “No one can find food again,” he said warily. “We’re all worried that we’re going to starve in these ancestor-forsaken woods. Nothing to eat, barely anything to drink…”

Rage twitched both of his ears. “Then do better,” he stated.

Woad, Thistle, and Cliff shifted uneasily behind him. The three of them had been around long enough to tell when Rage was at his breaking point; they could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. Snowbank, however, wasn’t as attuned to boring these things. “Do better?” he snarled, ears flattening to his head. His lips twitched upward to show a flash of teeth that Rage took no care for. “Why don’t YOU do better? You brought us all here, with all of your killing. You should be providing us with food, not sitting here wasting the day away while we starve!”

Rage was no longer laughing along with their spiteful words, and he instead stared intently into Snowbank’s eyes, the frustration of the wolves around him funneling into his heart and swelling up into a whirlwind of fury. He lunged forward with a snap of teeth, looming over Snowbank and puffing hot, rancid air into his face. Snowbank’s eyes went wide and the white wolf struggled to hold eye contact against the bone beast that towered over him.

“Do better,” he snarled. “Eat each other if you so badly want food. I grow tired of your complaints,” he added, tossing his head around to address the trio from earlier as well. “The end is drawing near for all of us but we must remain patient.”

“Patience isn’t easy,” Thistle argued, though he held his head submissively low.

“Believe me,” Rage Itself rumbled, “I know.”

- President Loki