Music Choices: Firewall by Les Friction, Blood / Water by grandson, Runar by Danheim
Author's Notes: Hazel ain't got nothing on a bitch lmao.
Also, general warning for violence and possibly upsetting content. If I need to put more specific tags here, lemme know.
Eclipse
Chapter 27
The Raid Part VIII
One moment, there was relative silence. The next, sirens were screaming, red lights were flashing, and miniature quakes were shaking the compound's foundations. Bellicose blew smoke through their nose like a dragon, brown fingers grinding out another cigarette as Alwyn started to panic besides them.
Across various camera feeds, there was total chaos; most of it coming from the south entrance. Bell squinted as several blinding flashes of light evaporated swathes of armed personnel and cut the cameras to static in an instant.
Had someone placed Dust bombs around their perimeter?
Bellicose brought up another camera, one sheltered from the sudden onslaught and portrayed the perimeter near the garage and southern entrance of the facility. A lance of dark energy darted out of the darkness, nearly violet in color; a shimmering wave, like the sort you might see in a desert horizon, distorted the air around it.
Five King's Service personnel, who'd been in the process of bringing their weapons and Semblances to bear, were struck down instantly; their bodies and auras seemed to freeze in time, before suddenly exploding inwards, the shape of space within their torsos twisting as gravity warped it into new and bizarre shapes.
Bellicose gave a dry, impressed whistle.
"What in the forgotten gods is that shit !" Alwyn barked, rage and shock making his pupils small. "Hell no!"
Alwyn keyed the short range comms, trying to simultaneously direct their remaining personnel and get an update from their own chain of command. Bellicose did nothing, their mouth parting ever so slightly as they watched, recognition dawning upon them.
Another unit had arrived at the breach, and promptly taken up inside the still open garage; they were sheltering behind the armored cars while someone was desperately trying to get the fifty cal on top of the closest IFV up and going. They succeeded, too, bringing the heavy weapon to bear upon a hovering, dark figure identifiable only by an LED party mask.
The Dust infused fifty caliber bullets roared out of the gun barrel, lighting up the dark; and Bell nodded as the bullets never met their mark. The bullets froze instead, caught like glowing, white hot flies in the warbling field of warping space emanating from the blacked out figure; surrounding said person, several black-violet crystals hovered in a luminous orbit, joined by a few other familiar colors as well.
The fifty cal sputtered to a shocked stop, even as several other Service members continued to fire off increasingly panicked shots at the snarling mask of the person who was currently bending the literal fabric of space-time. Suddenly, the bullets were firing again, at an increased velocity, the space around them having been redirected by the masked figure and towards the company of personnel in the garage.
One second, they were all alive. The next, they were shredded across the vehicles, ground, walls, ceiling - they were the fucking plaster on the walls. Aura could only do so much in the face of such an onslaught; they may as well have not had any for all the difference it made. If Bell was a softer sort, they might have puked; and they still felt their gorge rise.
"-VERDANT, ALWYN! PICK THE FUCK UP YOU GRIMY SON OF A SOW!"
The blacked out figure moved , the spacial waves emanating from them glitching out the remaining cameras. They were losing visuals in the hallway coming off the garage, which led to the stairs, which eventually led to Dome, where they were sitting pretty. Bellicose knew right then that it was all over. Because they knew who had just let herself into their super secret clubhouse; and if she was knocking at the backdoor, then her partner was already inside.
Bell hummed, leaning back in their chair as their fingers steepled thoughtfully. They'd done their homework, more than anyone else actually, on the people they were supposed to be bringing down tonight; and they'd discovered a little secret about one Joan Arc, something they hadn't shared with the class yet. In fact, it was a little tidbit they'd withheld from the other members of the Service. A small act of rebellion that they knew they could get away with, something no one could accuse them of doing; and it looked like it had actually paid off this time.
It was well known and documented that Arc's Semblance was telekinesis; a rare enough Semblance to luck into, in and of itself. However, they'd discovered that Joan was a smidge more complex than your average telekine; something that she'd hidden very well from the public and, apparently, government factions.
They couldn't say they blamed her, either. Bell knew a loooot of very important people would be exceedingly nervous to find out that one Joan Arc could temporarily channel the attributes of certain unrefined Dust through her Semblance.
They'd figured it out when viewing one of the more obscure, yet recorded fights between her and a certain ex-partner, when the wound of Nwyfre's apparent betrayal was still fresh and Joan was very much trying to bring her in; and then, they'd erased all trace of the footage.
As Alwyn barked angry, frightened snarls over the radio at anyone capable of listening, Bellicose had to hide a smirk as they went through the motions of sealing off the various wings behind a variety of supposedly impenetrable barriers.
Come and get us, ladies.
Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Vale...
A wide variety of Valish government agencies were having a difficult evening. For forty or so minutes, their long range comms had been mostly disrupted; there were a few exceptions, of course. Thankfully, the CCTS tower seemed to be completely fine. Otherwise, they might have thought they were on the brink of being invaded by Atlas again. They still weren't one hundred percent certain that they were not; but that was nothing new, really.
Everyone always suspects Atlas first of everything. Even Atlas, though they'd never admit it.
While the police and military scrambled, trying to find just who was responsible for jamming them and if anyone else had any idea, the King's Service was running amok with their pants on fire. The castle had gone dark, with the entire Royal family being sequestered in some unknown location; even the Council members and lesser nobility were told to hunker down with their own protective services and measures in place.
Uncertainty and anxiety were mounting, but the public was blissfully unaware that anything was awry. Several million humans and faunus lived in the greater Vale area, and while they weren't necessarily all very happy, there was no mass panicking to be had. The Hunters patrolling their borders would collectively report a noticeable lack of Grimm in the area, in fact. It was, for them at least, a very quiet night.
For the shaggy, black wolf sprinting over the shoddy rooftops of southern Vale, it was an increasingly desperate one. Tongue lolling, he drank the night air in huge, deep gulps, his dark form streaking at unnatural speeds through the night. He'd been running for a while, channeling aura expertly to increase his endurance and speed.
He'd had to make a hard decision earlier, on who he would attempt to track. He knew his Lieutenant's last location, but instinct told him she wasn't dead; they wouldn't risk killing anyone inside the Kingdom's walls, and it wasn't something the young ones were willing to do. No, the scent was going to go cold again if he waited longer, and after tonight it was unlikely that he'd get another chance quite like this. The King was going to put him on a tighter lead after these losses, that was for certain.
No, he wouldn't sacrifice this opportunity. Because if he succeeded here? It would all have been worth it.
The wolf leapt off a low slung building and dropped into a back alley, grey flecked muzzle high in the air as he breathed in heavily. A homeless man sat huddled nearby, his lion's tail wrapped around his feet as he stared, wide eyed. The wolf ignored him and dashed off into the alley, hunting the barest thread of a scent.
There you are!
It wasn't old either, he could tell. Deeply, deeply obscured, likely by a scent eliminating soap or some common variant of such; good enough to fool anyone else perhaps, but not him.
He almost let out a triumphant yip, but held it in. No giving himself away so easily.
The alley way led to another cramped street, one still brightly lit and full of people. The wolf paused, sniffing from the shadows, reddish brown eyes glinting in the half light.
Which way did you go?
The wolf had to hold himself back from darting into the road; his emotions were growing nearly frantic. It was harder to keep cool in this form.
Left! He went left!
The wolf hopped up onto a large trash bin, then onto a fire escape. He clambered upwards, passing open windows heedlessly, until he was on top of the apartment roof; then he was running again, bounding over the gaps between buildings recklessly.
Come on, faster, gods dammit!
Then, another scent on the midnight breeze, appearing suddenly, inexplicably; an eager rumble in his chest as he instantly recognized it. They were coordinating something together! Excellent!
Five blocks out.
Now four.
Three.
They had stopped somewhere ahead. He could see the aged, two story warehouse from here, and knew that's where they'd holed up for the moment. He needed to get in there and fast, before the other two showed and made things even more difficult. Summer had already been far more problematic than he could have predicted.
Panting, the wolf sped over the last of the buildings that led up to the warehouse's perimeter. From the overlapping scents hanging in the air, he deduced that there were only two people inside the warehouse currently. No other witnesses. Grimy, yellow window panes wrapped around the first floor of the decrepit, moss addled building, but that wasn't his way in. Those windows were all largely intact, after all.
The second story currently had a large hole where they'd been trying to install something, and seemingly quit due to a lack of funds. The hole had a tarp over it, but that was it. In front of this was some rusty, but intact scaffolding.
The wolf sprang across and onto the scaffolding, which shook beneath his weight but otherwise held. He knew the noise, slight as it was, had likely put the two riders inside on alert. So he needed to move quickly, before they could bolt off into the night again.
His front paws hit the tarp, the billowing plastic obscuring his form momentarily from the people below him; a Dust round pinged off the nearby wall, and another actually winged his aura as it zipped past. He barely even felt it, hyper-focused as he was.
He landed on a crate stack and immediately leapt into the shadows, dodging more shots and disappearing into the murk; two motorcycles had started up, but one was struggling for some reason. Sputtering and coughing. A soft, rough voice cursed quietly under his breath. Human ears wouldn't have even picked it up.
The other, naturally, stayed nearby instead of fleeing into the night. She had a Dust pistol out and was training it into the dark, body language alert. The wolf moved like a gheist, a noiseless shade. He came around the sharp corner of a stack of pallets, practically invisible in the ink; he could see them both, stradling their bikes, one struggling to fix his own. They were both wearing masks, having apparently taken their helmets off to converse and were dressed in such a way that they were completely unidentifiable.
But he knew them, of course.
He had seconds to act, and even less to come to a decision. If he used his Semblance right now, though? Then he might win the battle, but lose the war; and it would cement in their minds that fight or flight were their only options, which he was trying to avoid if he could.
That left trying to talk, which was also, admittedly, a risk. He realized he had frozen. He had worked feverishly to get to this moment, and now, here it was; but he didn't know what to do.
Ice blossomed as a Dust round pinged nearby, a warning shot. Wily thing, she'd spotted him in the dark, but apparently was holding back on shooting him outright; for the moment at least. She was silently urging the other rider to get on her bike instead, but he was being stubborn about it.
No, wait. Not stubborn. He was afraid his Semblance would disable both of their vehicles.
The wolf huffed in amusement, before finally making a decision; and shifting skins.
Verdant took a moment to collect himself before stepping out of the relative safety of the dark and directly into the line of fire; he kept his empty palms up, his head tipped disarmingly. There was a brief beat of visible confusion in the duo's body language.
Then very, very intent stillness.
"Eeeasy," Verdant drew out. "We're cool. Ok?"
There was a moment of potent silence, one that completely choked out the background noise of the city; and then the one closest to him whipped her pistol up, training her sights unwaveringly on his skull.
"Rae? Come on," Verdant cautioned. "Stay cool-"
Fuck, wrong word choice.
She fired off another Dust round, and he barely dodged the majority of the ice spires. His aura triggered, protecting him from getting skewered; but it still stung like a son of a bitch.
"Shit, ok!" he inhaled but didn't overreact. "Aight! I get it! But look, I don't wanna fight - I just wanna talk. Can we do that, please?"
The other rider was glancing between Verdant and his sister. He had his own pistol up as well, but for the moment seemed more hesitant. Qrow had always been the more sociable of the two, which really wasn't saying much; but he was also unpredictable in ways his sister was not.
"Qrow? Easy man. Let's just talk. Ok?"
The pair were clearly growing increasingly distressed. They hadn't said anything yet, at least nothing that could be picked up on the camera pinned to his vest; besides scent and his own intuition, Verdant knew if they got away from him now, he couldn't prove it was them to anyone who mattered. The king didn't accept scent and instinct as solid evidence, typically.
However, Verdant was still banking on being able to get them to give something away; and once that happened, well, it really was game over.
But that was a good thing.
The girl revved her bike as the boy ditched his busted ride, hopping on with his sister. Verdant grimaced.
"No-C'mon, don't make me chase ya'll," he insisted, his voice growing heavier. He had slipped into his accent instinctively. "You're not gettin out of this mess! So just do the smart thing and fucking talk to me!"
His palms were still up, placating, but he could get a weapon into them faster than greased lightning. He didn't want to; however, he also wasn't about to just let them slip away. This was for their own good, after all. They just weren't going to see it that way at first.
He could tell her to stop. But that would be foolish; because it would obliterate any chance of genuine cooperation later on.
I use my Semblance on her now, then I'll always have to have it on, and always watch my back around her.
The rider was intently focused on his hands. When he fucked up and twitched, she already had the damn bike in gear and was speeding by him towards the open sliding door. Verdant cursed, the Dust blade he had nabbed earlier slipping into his fingers from his sleeve; and threw it.
Now, Verdant was an excellent marksman, no matter what he had in his hands. Guns. Knives. Fuckin - candlesticks. You name it, he could throw it, and hit what he wanted.
However, in his hurry, he forgot to take a certain unfortunate Semblance into account. The Dust blade he had acquired was supposed to pop the girl's front tire. It didn't hit the bloody tire at all, though.
It hit her leg.
No aura ignited to prevent the blade from making contact, either. The fucking thing went straight through, because it was coated in activated gravity Dust; it pierced through the thigh and into a good part of the bike's engine and chassis, killing it and pinning the driver's leg to the bike. At a slightly different angle and an inch lower? The Dust blade would have severed the leg beneath the knee entirely.
Verdant's eyes widened in bewildered panic as the bike sputtered out. The rider let out a short, pained scream, before biting back anything else she might have said, trying to keep the bike upright with her good leg to keep from getting pinned under the bike. The boy on the back had already hopped off as Verdant tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened; and by the time he had, his son was trying very hard to kill him.
"Rrrrraaa!"
The axe end of a tomahawk swung past his nose, yellow Dust crackling with electricity; his aura lit up as he got caught in the sudden, vicious backswing, the yellow point dangerously close to his temple. Verdant recovered from his surprise, and kicked a foot out, nearly catching him in the chest. However, he missed as the boy deflected his foot with the weapon.
Verdant had already materialized two more blades into his hands, much shorter than the errant knife and coated in an incapacitating agent that would render a Boarbatusk paralyzed and unconscious in under a minute. He had taken note that, despite his kick getting close enough to impact the boy's aura, nothing had sparked up; that detail combined with the fact that Raven's own aura had not properly activated to protect her betrayed a very important fact: Qrow either had no or very little active aura at the moment.
Considering that Qrow's Semblance was still somewhat active, he had to have some; but it was apparent that they were both still wearing anti-aural foil under their clothes in order to hide from Regalia. Considering the amount of heat they'd had on them for the past twenty minutes, it was likely they hadn't been able to remove it yet. So they came here together, to remove it and recharge before their next move.
Despite having no real aura levels at the moment, Qrow was not holding back. He came in again in a fury, a savage growl in his chest; he clapped Verdant twice again across his own maroon aura, before dancing away out of striking distance, avoiding Verdant's lightning knife strikes.
Verdant realized there was no point in trying to talk him down in such a state and gave as good as he got, testing the boy's strengths, his weaknesses. Qrow was built very similarly to himself, all lean speed, dexterity and stamina above outright physical strength. Their people had always lean and quick and cunning over anything else. Against brute strength and ego, they fought wily and mean; and they fought to win.
Qrow slipped under his guard and got a real slash on him, a nasty bastard right across the ribs. Verdant was slower now, far more than he used to be. His age and the rough living of his younger years were catching up to him with a vengeance; that and Qrow was a young Hunter in training, in peak physical condition.
Without Semblances? Without aura? In a good fight, the boy would probably come out the winner; especially when fighting madder than a mongoose trynna to pull the hide off a snake. However, Verdant didn't need to fight Qrow to exhaustion or serious bloodshed. He just needed to knick him.
He slowed down internally, focusing on his breathing, his pacing. Qrow's weapons had a longer reach than his own, but were still short and fast. He'd use one to catch and deflect Verdant's knife strikes, locking his arm out and then bring the other in to strike at his exposed sides or limbs. With that strategy, Qrow had already lowered his aura significantly; and while Verdant was getting in a few slashes, nothing was actually cutting through his riding leathers and hitting skin.
Finally, Verdant saw an opening in Qrow's defenses; and grazed him under his armpit, before backing away, using his superior footwork to stay half a step ahead of him. At first, Qrow didn't realize what had happened, and was still too busy trying to hack his fuckin nose clean off; but then, he started to slow.
Verdant couldn't see Qrow's eyes, but when he hesitated, he was certain he was aware of what had happened. The King's man continued to circle carefully as Qrow began to truly lag; with his heart rate that high, practically no aura, and that close to the heart? The anesthetic properties of the poison had him staggering drunkenly in a matter of seconds.
The boy began to retreat, not towards the bike and his trapped sister, but towards the stack of boxes behind him. Verdant, still aware that his Semblance could pull some random bullshit, stayed well back; Qrow stumbled again, and as his back hit the boxes as his legs finally gave out on him. He still had one sparking tomahawk raised up threateningly, and Verdant didn't doubt he'd throw it at him if he came closer.
"Alright then," Verdant started. "You're fine! I promise. You're gonna take a nap, and when you wake up, we can talk."
Qrow didn't say a thing about that; but when Verdant tried to walk past him to check on Raven, Qrow did chuck one of the stupid tomahawks; and it nearly did bounce right off his skull. His aura caught it, but only just. Verdant cursed.
"Fuckin - gods! Damnit!" he shook it off, chuckling under his breath. "Dust, just take my eye out why don't ya?! Rae?"
The bike was on it's side, oozing fuel and blood. Blood was in fact everywhere; but there was no sign of the rider or the Dust blade that had nearly cleaved her leg off. Without aura, she would go into shock and bleed out.
"Raven!" he barked, looking about.
She had been there only a few seconds ago, unable to get the knife out; he should have known better than to think that would last, though.
"Rae, get out here before you bleed to death."
He cursed under his breath and started to follow the blood trail. She'd fuckin drug herself over to the crates, and then used the netting that covered them to pull herself upright. Blood coated the ropes.
Cursing, considered briefly reaching out with his Semblance to find her and make her come out, before she keeled over; but fixing things as they were was going to be hard enough already.
"I wasn't tryna to wing you, ok? I really was trying to hit the bike."
No reply. Not that he'd expected one.
Sighing, he rounded the stack, expecting to see her clinging to the ropes or passed out on the ground. She was doing neither. There was no one there.
Instead, he felt a blade rest at the base of his spine; he paused, considering his options. He kept his hands up where she could see them and didn't try to turn around yet. He didn't have to see her to know she was in bad shape.
One of those legs was useless, and she had to be using the stack besides them to support herself. If he wanted, he could donkey kick out and there was little she could do to stop him.
"...Been a pretty rough night, huh?" he started. The Dust blade from earlier pressed closer, the tip easily surpassing his vest and shirt. "Rae? Come on. You're gonna bleed out like that."
He tried to turn around and the knife moved, aiming for his kidney. His aura activated easily, and in her current state she couldn't rightly punch through it or even activate the Dust with her own aura. He grabbed her wrist, breaking her hold on the blade; there was a livid, nearly electric shock that ran through her system at that, and he instinctively pulled back, thinking that he had perhaps somehow pinched a nerve cluster.
She coughed violently, the blade dropping onto the warehouse floor and he kicked it away. She had toppled by that point, much like Qrow had earlier.
"Fuckin hells," he muttered, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. "Enough already! Come here."
She did not. Instead, she pulled further away, balling on the ground a lot like a rolly polly and covering her belly. As far as he knew, her torso had not been injured, but her odd mannerisms made him think she really was slipping into shock from the blood loss.
"Stubborn mother -See? This is exactly what I was talkin about. Hang on, we'll get you patched up."
Shaking his head, he impatiently ignored her cringing away from him and moved as if to pick her up; but then, paused. Through the cracked and patchy glass panes nearby, he heard something that sounded suspiciously like another motorcycle. Verdant sniffed, lifting his head; the wolf in him growled menacingly, the hackles on the back of his neck rising.
Who was that, then? Summer? Or the other one?
He really didn't have time for either; and he also didn't have time to lay out a trap or devise an escape. Because that motorcycle came in through the fuckin window, and right at his head.
"What the fu-"
He ate rubber. Or he would have without aura; but even with aura, he was cleaned across the warehouse floor and crashed into another stack across the aisle. Splinters and debris rained down on top of him as the motorcycle roared furiously, the noise bouncing off the ancient brick walls of the warehouse, creating a storm of sound.
"Son of a fucking whore!" Verdant snarled from where he was laid out, clambering up on his legs.
He had bit his tongue and was swallowing his own blood and spit. His aura was low, dangerously low. He could barely heal his tongue, let alone even use his Semblance for long like this.
The bike had been abandoned by the rider after they had gleefully tried to plant track marks across his face. They weren't hiding though. They were standing in the middle of the warehouse, between him and Raven.
They were dressed like the others, but their cutesy little party mask was not the creepy smiley face; instead it was like a mythic Mistrali ogre or demon, snarling colorfully in the dark. Verdant spat a wad of blood on the concrete and wiped it from his chin.
"Hello to you too, Taiyang," Verdant growled menacingly, spitting blood again. Anger was clouding his mind, his reason, his self control. "That was a very…. very stupid fucking thing you just did."
Taiyang didn't answer. Of course.
These kids - these two extra clowns in particular- were really starting to piss him the fuck off.
"Listen, you dumb cunt. I'm not gonna waste any more of my time with you," Verdant cracked his neck. "Get out of my way, kid. Now. Or I'll fuckin skin you !"
Taiyang mirrored his position, his body flowing into a martial position. He had a pair of icy blue knuckle-dusters on each fist; it was not apparent if he was still wearing anti-aural foil.
Either way, fighting him one on one as a human wasn't wise. He admittedly knew less about Tai than he did about Summer - Summer being the daughter of the world's top Witchfinger and all - but he knew enough. A full fledged brawl wouldn't end in his favor, and he was already low on aura.
Verdant, however, wasn't without a few extra tricks up his sleeve. During his years in the wild, running mad and feral and wilder than all hell, he had learned more than a few things about being a skinchanger; things that even most the tribes had forgotten. He wasn't above doing that here, and he sure wasn't above using it on this idiot; because he was in his way.
Taiyang moved first, attacking suddenly and with a quiet yet intense savagery that very much took Verdant by surprise. Tai wasn't moving like he normally did in his training videos, either, but the patterns in his movements were unfortunately familiar; the sort of martial prowess utilized by Witchfingers to do takedowns of dangerous, rogue Hunters. A garrote wire had whipped into Tai's hands suddenly, and he was trying to snare Verdant's knife wielding hands with it.
The little son of a bitch had learned a thing or two from Nwyfre, it seemed.
A detail which was ultimately the final straw for Verdant's grip over his impressive temper. He reached for his second skin. However, instead of flowing fully into the form, he allowed it to instead overlay his human body in an unnatural, but still feasible, way.
He remained on two legs, but was covered in pitch black fur. His head was a massive wolf's, his jaws full of fangs; his paws kept their human shape, but covered in fur and grew claws. His tail waved behind him to help maintain balance. For all intents and purposes, Verdant looked very similar to how a Beowulf might, if the damn things were actually alive. He had learned it from studying them, after all.
Verdant stepped forward on his left foot and let out a brutal howl, letting himself embody the spirit of bloodlust and rage; and charged.
His claws swiped where Taiyang's masked face had been moments before. His reflexes had increased drastically with this body, his senses heightened; he felt the air of Taiyang's kick before he saw it, and caught the leg out of the air with his teeth.
Roaring, he flung the boy clear across the warehouse and into another pile of crates, boxes and pallets. He didn't wait for him to recover either and charged after him on all fours, before leaping into air above the boxes.
However, Taiyang had bounced back very quickly. Before Verdant could change direction, the boy popped up and sucker punched him with an aura fueled fist, right to the gut. The Dust in his knuckle-dusters activated; and Verdant got flung by a spear of ice into the ceiling. If not for the remains of his own depleted aura, he would have been gored.
Taiyang was not wearing anti-aural foil; and had apparently used aural boosters to recover his own lost stores.
Verdant caught himself, grabbing one of the rafters with a paw and ape-swinging over to the next, keeping out of Taiyang's range. He couldn't maintain this form for long, especially when he was this messed up. He needed to make a decision and fast, though. Raven was bleeding out on the floor still.
Verdant glared down at the masked boy who was unflinchingly staring right back at him. His lips pulled back in a silent, drooling snarl, before he leapt across the rafters at light speed and dropped down to where his daughter should still be; and froze.
Raven wasn't there anymore. Just lots of blood smears, and a lone, inconspicuous looking pebble. Verdant panted, a confused whine in his throat before realization nearly snapped him out of his warg form.
Then Taiyang was on him, knuckle-dusters flashing. Ice coated Verdant's fur as he soaked a brutal hit to his shoulder and felt it crack. Then his jaw. His stomach, again.
Enraged, Verdant broke contact and sprinted to Qrow; but was bested once again. Every time he had lost sight of the twins or Taiyand, the little bastard had utilized his Semblance; all while avoiding the sparkling eye of the camera that was still blinking on Verdant's half-shifted chest. Even letting Verdant bat him across the room that first time had likely been intentional; it had let him throw his focus points where he wanted, without the movement being seen.
Taiyang was on him again. He kicked harder than a Griffon, and meaner than a Devil. Verdant's aura was gone by now, and he was soaking blows left and right as his tail got handed to him on a golden platter. If he didn't act fast, the brat might actually render him unconscious. He didn't have enough power to kill him or best him in a fight, so that left running; however, he refused to leave here empty handed.
As Taiyang sent another kick his way, with the intent of apparently removing his skull from his shoulders, Verdant flowed fully into his second skin; the boot flew over the tips of his ears, and with a snarl, Verdant dashed at him. Unprepared for his opponent to change shape on him so drastically, Taiyang stumbled; Verdant's front paws knocked him to the ground, claws raking his aura bitterly as he leapt away and bolted for the door.
He sprinted out into the evening air. The scent of blood was everywhere still, clinging to his fur, blinding his nose. However, as he focused, he found where he had sent her.
Growling, the wolf sprinted over the cobblestone, and towards the working, white trucks lined up in the parking lot behind the building. He cornered again, his hind feet skidding to a stop sharply. Again, nothing.
Nothing but the scent of blood and roses.
The black wolf heaved furiously, realizing he had lost this round; before letting out a furious, beastial roar, that echoed violently between the cramped buildings and streets of southern Vale.