Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors
Scourge felt the lightning-like spark strike from his crimson paws, up his arms, and to the very tip of his jet black tail as he heard his razor sharp claws rip through a white, fluffy cat's throat. There was a soft thud when the lifeless body's skull hit the hard pavement. The blood seeped into the once white fur on his right paw, stained from a lifetime of willfully taking numerous innocent lives. The warm, sticky, red fluid made his heart race.
He smiled down at the pool of cerise colored liquid that puddled under the mass of white fur. He loved the thrill; the sensation of easily winning every battle, his minions bowing at his feet, giving him the respect that he had always deserved.
Maybe it was insanity that made him this way, or maybe it was all for revenge, maybe both. He wasn't sure, himself. But the urge to kill coursed through his veins; he had put it there; it had all started with him.
His expression never changed from a calm, emotionless frown as his followers hollered and chanted his name. He knew it was all just fear for their own lives, but he didn't mind; he seemed to like it that way. He had filled the void of his lonely kitten-hood with the sense to destroy others' souls, to over power them and show no mercy, as he was treated when he was young. Revenge; that was all that mattered. They would all feel the same pain he had endured. He had left that weak, tiny kitten alone to die inside himself. That sweet, loving child no longer existed. They had taken it away from him.
Sudden anger washed over him, and he struck his claws into the nearest cat, and felt that all familiar warmth drip off his toes, the shiver of pure pleasure passed through his body, once again.
His compliers cheered even louder. It was all the same. It would never end.
They all worshiped him; he was their leader. A dark leader that owned the city and every shadowy crevice in it. He dominated every animal from huge dogs to the tinyest rodent, and put them all under his bloody rule. There was no cat greater than him, and he held that high.
But deep down inside, he knew who he really was; how the world really saw him. What every single member of his claque feared. Something inside his soul that screamed for mercy, for justice, to be completely destroyed. It was a burning in his chest that put bile in his throat every time he tried to sleep.
Because on top of all that blood, the hate, and insanity, he knew he was nothing more than a satanic monster.