It was kind of amazing what kind of difference six years can make. Those were six years Blood grew up in the Shadow of Black, knowing only evil and darkness, sharing a life through Falcon on DNA and racing alone. Blood did not share the history engraved in Falcon's skin in the many mottled marks and scars, (ones he desperately hoped he could add to), and he did not share the experiences that made the men so terribly different.

But not completely different.

"Shut up!" He howled again, throwing another frenzied punch. "I'll kill him after I kill you." It was an empty threat. Sort of. Blood wasn't above and beyond the thought, but that necessitated a good reason. Falcon had a good reason. Falcon simply existed. Falcon needed to stop existing and stop making him question his existence.