[attr="class","dibody2"]A lot could transpire in a year. Carver was proof of that. Since his incarceration in Monroeville, the metallic menace had cultivated a reputation for himself. Quick to anger and even quicker to use his fist he had begun to secure a seat of power for himself in the pecking order of the hospital. Honestly, it felt more like a prison most days and that sat fine with the hateful teen.

At seventeen he was hardly a striking figure. Lanky without an ounce of true muscle on him he should have been an easy target. He was not. Carver was seemingly born without any notions of fair play and a proclivity for violence that bordered on psychopathic. In his first week, he'd shattered an orderly's jaw. Since then he'd only expanded his vile reputation.

The fact that he was a fiend forged from steel and zinc made him all the more threatening.

The boy sneered as he stalked through the halls of Monroeville, his hands shoved into his pockets, his heavy footfalls warning all those before him to clear the way. Those that failed to give the self-proclaimed monarch his berth were met with a violent shove from a chrome vanadium shoulder. Even in his altered state, his eyes maintained a brown discoloration. Those rust colored eyes scanned the hall before him, searching out Carver's sole companion.

There were few people in all of Monroeville that could stomach to be around Carver and only one that was even close to being something of a friend. Carver's hunt for the girl known as Charlie took him through the winding corridors of Monroeville Hospital and into its cafeteria. Carver plowed through the heavy doors, his metallic skin clanging above the din of the lively dining hall.

"Charlie!" he called out, alloy vocal cords distorting his pubescent tenor into something out of nightmares. He frowned as he looked above the crowd, their heads turned toward the glistening figure. "Where the fuck is she?" Carver's voice rumbled in his chest as he continued his predatory gait through the lunchroom.

There was no sight of the curly brown mop he was familiar with. Irrate at the girl's absence Carver plopped down at the nearest table he could find. The chair groaned in protest under his weight and the elbow that followed suit shook the table it fell upon. "Women," he said to no one in particular. "Always around botherin' the shit out of you but when you actually need'em nowhere to be found." Carver looked at the sourpuss sharing his table. "You ain't seen an irritatin' waif running around here have ya? Ah, forget it. Doesn't matter anymore."

Carver huffed as he reached out across that table and jabbed two fingers into the other man's meal and scooped out a liberal helping. "She'll find me sooner or later. Always does." Carver slipped the mush into his mouth and made a grotesque show of sucking his fingers clean.

"Hm, not that bad today. Usually, this stuff tastes as bad as it looks."  Carver nodded to himself, donning a pleased countenance. He shifted in his seat towards his dining partner and finally inspected the individual. It suddenly dawned on him that he wasn't one of Carver's usual playmates.

"Who the hell are you?"

[attr="class","dibody2"]Indestructible was a word that got tossed around a lot when people whispered about Carver. He was the boy made out of metal. The kid who shrugged off every hit like it was nothing and kept swinging. Rumor was eventually starting to circulate that he couldn't even feel pain.

Well, that rumor was certainly false. 

Carver still possessed his tactile senses while in his metallic form. They were dampened, of course, but still capable of relaying signals to the lad's brain. At that moment when the tray collided with the side of his head they were screaming one simple word;

Pain

The tray exploded sending showers of plastic onto the cafeteria floor. Carver was still concussed when the man across the table jumped at him with savage ferocity following up his initial blow. He had no chance to brace himself and the two of them tumbled to the ground becoming a pile of flesh and metal upon the linoleum floor. To Carver's credit, his instincts kicked in and guided his retaliation. 

In such close proximity, there was nowhere for him to draw back his fist and deliver the bone-shattering blows he had become known for. He was forced to grapple with his attacker, wrestling for a position of dominance. Already other patients had gathered around the pair en masse. They looked on with a mixture of excitement and admonition. 

Carver laughed as they rolled about, smiling as he and the other boy struggled. There was something about the violent dance that made up a fight that thrilled the boy. The feeling of flesh pounding against flesh in the most volatile of ways. The sight of blood hitting the floor. The feeling of standing over a crumpled heap. It was the closest thing to intoxication that Carver could come by in Monroeville. So, he sought out confrontation and when he finally found it he reveled in it.

 "God, you're a strong one," Carver admitted his own enhanced nomenclature straining against Astor's. Carver was sure that he weighed more than the other man. As ropey as he was he was still a living golem of galvanized metal. The other man had sheer size on him and some sort of otherworldly strength. In a fair fight, Carver wasn't sure which of them would win.

Carver was never one to fight fair.

Carver threw his head forward with staggering force, his chrome dome colliding with the boy above him. One blow was enough to crumple most men to the floor but Carver refused to relent, his head pistoning, aiming to inflict as much damage as he could or to simply ward the man off. 

Carv would be the first to admit that he was utter shite pinned on the ground. He needed his feet under him and his hands-free to truly deal the appropriate amount of damage and right now he wanted to deal as much damage as possible.

[attr="class","dibody2"]Carver didn't bruise like normal men. There was no discoloration of flesh and tenderness. No, the metal man did not have such frailties. He had much worse ones.

He dented.

Under the ministrations of the shifter known as Astor, Carver gained some of the few dents he'd ever earned in his life. Carver gritted through the pain as the fought on. The drawing of blood elicited a mirthless chuckle from the boy. He wasn't sure whose blood it was. No one had ever hit him hard enough in his altered form to find out if he could bleed.

"Get off of me, ya bastard!" Carver bellowed and to his surprise, the weight of the other man was removed from his chest. It was only then that he realized amidst the chaos the orderlies of Monroeville had come to put the kibosh on his fun. Carver's nose wrinkled in distaste as he felt hands on his arms, hoisting him to his feet. 

"I ain't done yet!." Carver thrashed about, his forearm connecting with a ribcage and eliciting a faint crack. With one arm free the boy whirled around and shoved his other aggressor off of him, his rust-colored eyes finding his previous quarry. He was nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, across from Carver was the largest wolf he'd ever seen. Bristling with fur and muscle it was a beast of ferocious proportions. It also seemed vaguely familiar. "Thought I fuckin' smelled dog when I sat next to you." Even in the thick of a fight, Carver's mouth continued to run. He watched as men in scrubs closed in on the creature. 

As much as he wanted to beat the kid to within an inch of his life he loathed the idea of the orderlies getting their hands on him. As more came forth, poised to save their friend, Carver intervened. In his human form, he probably weighed a buck sixty converted to vanadium his weight skyrocketed up into the realm of a quarter ton. A year stuck as a metal monstrosity had taught him how to use that weight to staggering effect.

Three long steps was all it took for Carv to build up the momentum he desired. Tilting his shoulders downward he plowed directly into the two orderlies that sought to interrupt Ash's frenzy. Unfortunately, Carver had not aimed his charge. One man fell forward while the other was knocked right into the gray wolf and the man pinned beneath him.

"Sorry mate," Carver winced and righted himself turning on his heels to avoid the gaze of the beast. "Accident, swear on my mum's grave." With that, the total of floored orderlies had reached five, Astor's playmate included. They were beginning to rally and more were running towards the pair, pressing through the mass of patients. It proved slow going, however. One man, a slim figure, had managed to slither his way through.

Carver eyed the man with a malicious gleam in his eye. "Probably shoulda waited for your friends," he announced, cockily striding up to the man, brandishing his knuckles. He slapped his right fist against his left palm, generating a loud clang before throwing a wild right hook. When his fist met the man's cheek it lacked the impact Carver had grown accustomed to.

In fact, it lacked the gleam of metal he'd grown used to as well. The man staggered backward but remained standing, his eyes dilated. Carver swore under his breath as he felt the change overcome him, "Shit." Was all he was able to get out as the blocker caused him to revert to his natural state.

The man he'd shoved off of him earlier was on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground. Without his powers, he was just a seventeen-year-old boy struggling against a man who weighed nearly twice as much as him.

It was not a favorable fight.

[attr="class","dibody2"]Carver thrashed beneath the bulk of the man above him. He was a professional, trained to restrain unruly patients and use his bulk to his advantage. Carver, on the other hand, was a lifelong delinquent and well acquainted with slipping his way out their holds. He twisted and writhed in the man’s grip it was only when he wrenched his left hand free he was able to begin his escape. It was simple pressure points, really.

Eye plus thumb equals pain.

The orderly cried out, reaching up to remove Carver’s finger from his delicate ocular nerves. As soon as his other hand left Carv’s wrist the boy was snaking his way out from beneath him. Before he could finish his display of gumption and nimbleness a bestial force removed his oppressor from his chest. He didn’t question it, his lithe form scrambling up to stand behind the wolf that now shielded him from the hospital staff.

“Good boy,” Carver grinned as he peered over the wolf toward their mutual enemies. “Wanna do me another solid and bash that scrawny shit’s brains in?” In his current state, Carver wouldn’t pose much of a threat to the orderlies and would only serve as a hindrance. He loathed the idea of relying on his enemy and despised the idea of being helpless even more. He maintained his manic grin despite the feelings of frailty that began to consume him. He’d be damned if he went down like a bitch. Common sense dictated that he stay behind the bundle of muscle and fangs that was willing to safeguard him. Pride demanded the opposite.

The guards edged cautiously around the pair of them, filling the circle of patients that surrounded them. Carver’s eyes shifted warily as he followed their path. The group seemed fearful of the wolf in front of Carver and he wasn’t sure if it was simply because of what he was or if there was some deeper meaning behind their hesitation.

As they spread out Carver spotted his opportunity. "Nevermind, I got it.” With their numbers spread so thin there was nobody safeguarding the linchpin of their assault. The scrawny fuck who was currently ruining Carver’s good time stood alone, his eyes dilated as he canceled out the abilities of everyone around him. No one had expected the boy to have been ballsy enough to step out from behind the wolf. They had planned on sneaking around back and subduing him before going for the true threat; Astor.

Their window of opportunity vanished as Carver leapfrogged over Astor and made a beeline for the blocker before him. The gap between the two of them was devoured by the boy’s long gait and he was upon his prey in a matter of moments. Half of the orderlies turned and charged at Carver while the rest kept their focus on Astor, unaware of the oncoming calamity.

Carver hoisted one foot into the air and stomped down hard on the blocker’s foot. A sickening pop resounded beneath Carver’s foot and a pained roar nearly deafened him. The boy winced through the pain in his ears as his quarry lost it’s concentration. That single moment was all he needed as his powers rushed back to him. Carver lashed out with a fist of zinc and bone, his strike finding the side of the man’s head. He crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll.

Metal rippled through his body and he regained the silvery appearance he had grown accustomed to in the last two years. He doubted that it would last for long. Power blockers were plentiful in Monroeville and with all of the ruckus that he and his friend were causing more were likely on the way. “Hey wolf guy,” Carver called out as the orderlies finally got to him. “Whatya say that you join my crew, eh?” Carver pushed one of the hospital workers roughly, attempting to keep a wide berth from them. “Or I guess it’d be pack in your case. I could use another guy willing to fuck shit up to this degree. Two barks for no, three for yes.”

Truthfully, Carver could use another heavy hitter to run with Charlie and him. One that could circumvent the blocker’s abilities would have been a perfect fit. Considering the amount of pent up rage that the other kid had he’d have fit in perfectly with the dastardly duo. His meal turned fight turned job interview was shaping up to be one of the most exciting days in Monroeville. It would certainly be one he would never forget.