A Moment of Combat
Marleybone was a warzone that day.
The cats and dogs were fighting tooth and claw in the ground-level streets, destroying anything that wound up in the crossfire of the many points of combat. While the hounds in blue police uniform were holding up against the cats on the offensive, most of the damage being dealt to the feline numbers actually came from a pair of humans that had been visiting the world at that moment.
The girl of the pair seemed to be at home in ancient Krokotopia, the black, white and gold colorations of her appearance only broken up by the Storm school emblem on her pointed hat and the splotch of purple that came with it. She held in both hands a staff that held a purple jewel in the center of the staff tip, a gem that seemed oddly filled with green light. She was sitting behind her partner, unleashing the torrent of the storm upon the felines while trying to keep her distance.
The male, however, seemed to fit Marleybone's theme better, his yellow suit jacket held snugly over his black shirt as he wore his purple pants underneath them. On yellow shoes did he dash forward into the cats, keeping the yellow wide-brimmed hat on his head with one hand and swinging expertly with the yellow and purple sword in his other hand, a sword that seemed to glow with blue energy as he struck.
"I don't know how your leader got free this time, but Meowiarty's going back to jail where he belongs," growled the male human as he pulled a small white card from a pocket on the inside of his jacket before tossing it into the air and slicing it in two, turning it into an ever-growing pile of airborne sand. Using the tip of his sword as a guide, he swung the sands around and around above his head, the crystalline grains building up into an ever-strengthening sandstorm among the ever-falling rain.
"You think you're the only one capable of a storm, Kieran," he heard asked behind him with a bit of snark as he released the swirling sands toward the army of cats in front of him...a storm that was followed immediately afterward with a large tidal wave of water that appeared out of nowhere that flushed the cats off the street and into several sewers. The fighting had stopped for the moment, but there was a lot of damage to repair and a lot of wounds to heal.
And the suited man fell to his knees, his energy drained from all the combat he had endured, absorbing hits for the glass cannon he had for a partner.
"Wish you could actually take a damned hit, Michele," he gasped out before falling forward onto the ground, passing out as he did.
"Damn it, Kie" was the last phrase he had heard before his awareness left him for the moment.
It's a short tale, but I'm trying to put together a few short stories with my two primary characters in various situations before throwing them both into a planned multi-chapter tale.