003: Violence
"To the left!" She almost felt rather than heard the roar behind her, and the grit under her paws dug in and she dived, obligingly, the rather nasty spells aimed for her head sailing harmlessly away to her right. Her snarl now a rumbling laugh she charged, teeth and claws and rending fire destroying the Dark Other given unto her as prey.
This one didn't register with the Watches, thought in a city so large, no one would notice him killing one here, one there. But the fool chose her section of Moscow to do it in, and she noticed. Simple, miss-able things, like the Twilight's moss growing deeper and healthier around first this complex, then this other one. Like suddenly realizing the old man she'd watched for years perform the same routine every Saturday night was doing something new - still shopping, but no vegetables, no sweets for his now-wrinkled sweetheart, just cheap alcohol and bread. She'd followed him home, only to discover the haunting chill of Dark energy seeping into the very fabric of reality around his now bachelor existence.
The warlock screamed - no longer defiance, just pain, as her own defenses canceled his out and her teeth sunk into his shoulder. She shook him like a misbehaving kitten, or a dog's toy, sending him sprawling across the roof's tarmac. She followed on silent feet, her breath huffing roughly in the cold night air. She would tear out his heart for the pain he brought her city.
Suddenly arms, thick and strong and as furred as her own wrapped around her chest, holding her back. Holding her well - she couldn't turn to strike, though she tried. Distantly she noted Seymon and Ilya racing forward to arrest the Dark warlock, and she snarled - he didn't deserve a trial! He certainly didn't give one to the people he killed! But her captor held her fast, and her compatriots ignored her protests.
She shifted, and so did her captor - they ended both as human, him holding her from behind, his arms crossed across her chest and his hands holding her wrists firmly. Waiting for her to calm down. Waiting for her to surrender.
It didn't come easily. There's a slash down one arm she didn't remember getting, but the oozing blood didn't loosen his grip one iota. She watched it flow for a time, listening to the traffic far below, the sounds of life going on around them.
"You can let me go." She finally said, and stepped out of his embrace to turn and study her partner. Bear didn't look so hot himself - somewhere in there he earned a fine set of bruises that darkened the left side of his head, swelling his eye shut and re-arranging the set of his mouth. From the way he held himself she knew there were other injuries under the clothing, and she sighed. Boris Ivanovitch was not going to be pleased. Perhaps today would be one of the increasingly rare days the owl was awake, and could plead on her behalf. Not likely, but possible - sometimes she thought the owl took her side just to be contrary to the boss.
"Let's get you back home." They both said, echos of each other, and the inherent violence of their postures vanished in that moment as they laughed at each others predictability. She slipped beside him to offer support while not aggravating his wounds, he grumbled about not needing help from a mere slip of a girl like herself, and together they took themselves off to go face the well-intentioned wrath and healing of their boss.
This one didn't register with the Watches, thought in a city so large, no one would notice him killing one here, one there. But the fool chose her section of Moscow to do it in, and she noticed. Simple, miss-able things, like the Twilight's moss growing deeper and healthier around first this complex, then this other one. Like suddenly realizing the old man she'd watched for years perform the same routine every Saturday night was doing something new - still shopping, but no vegetables, no sweets for his now-wrinkled sweetheart, just cheap alcohol and bread. She'd followed him home, only to discover the haunting chill of Dark energy seeping into the very fabric of reality around his now bachelor existence.
The warlock screamed - no longer defiance, just pain, as her own defenses canceled his out and her teeth sunk into his shoulder. She shook him like a misbehaving kitten, or a dog's toy, sending him sprawling across the roof's tarmac. She followed on silent feet, her breath huffing roughly in the cold night air. She would tear out his heart for the pain he brought her city.
Suddenly arms, thick and strong and as furred as her own wrapped around her chest, holding her back. Holding her well - she couldn't turn to strike, though she tried. Distantly she noted Seymon and Ilya racing forward to arrest the Dark warlock, and she snarled - he didn't deserve a trial! He certainly didn't give one to the people he killed! But her captor held her fast, and her compatriots ignored her protests.
She shifted, and so did her captor - they ended both as human, him holding her from behind, his arms crossed across her chest and his hands holding her wrists firmly. Waiting for her to calm down. Waiting for her to surrender.
It didn't come easily. There's a slash down one arm she didn't remember getting, but the oozing blood didn't loosen his grip one iota. She watched it flow for a time, listening to the traffic far below, the sounds of life going on around them.
"You can let me go." She finally said, and stepped out of his embrace to turn and study her partner. Bear didn't look so hot himself - somewhere in there he earned a fine set of bruises that darkened the left side of his head, swelling his eye shut and re-arranging the set of his mouth. From the way he held himself she knew there were other injuries under the clothing, and she sighed. Boris Ivanovitch was not going to be pleased. Perhaps today would be one of the increasingly rare days the owl was awake, and could plead on her behalf. Not likely, but possible - sometimes she thought the owl took her side just to be contrary to the boss.
"Let's get you back home." They both said, echos of each other, and the inherent violence of their postures vanished in that moment as they laughed at each others predictability. She slipped beside him to offer support while not aggravating his wounds, he grumbled about not needing help from a mere slip of a girl like herself, and together they took themselves off to go face the well-intentioned wrath and healing of their boss.