Chains of Retribution Cascastel: Fight or Flight

[Tiko]

as written by Script and Knosis

The Scions arrived in Cascastel and moved like a well oiled machine to get to work. Some started by smashing in the shop doors to the place and looting what goods they could find. Others threw molotoves into the broken windows of the buildings. Destruction was the name of the game in order to draw the Bloodstone Pack to their location. Rowan waited by his motorcycle, waiting for the word or any sight of the leader of the Bloodstones. He did not want to waste his energy on the mere display.

Still, something seemed.. off. Baron's dogs should have seen them coming a mile long, and nearly met them there. What was taking his old foe? "Jason.. Any word of a sign of the dogs?" He asked quietly. "Why is Baron taking so long to get here.." He asked, more to himself than to his right hand.

"None," Jason replied. The younger werewolf had a scowl fixed to his face. He was itching to launch himself into the fray, to smash up a building or three to release his pent up energy, but orders were to save it for the Bloodstones. "Maybe the cowards are just rolling over for us."

"No.. Baron wouldn't roll over on this.." Rowan growled softly. He seemed to be getting more and more frustrated by the minute.

"Then where the hell are they?" Jason snarled, "They've had more than enough time. We ought to go find them ourselves."

Before Rowan could answer, his phone began to buzz. He looked at the name and grinned slightly. He opened it up and answered. "Tell me you got something." Rowan growled.

Rowan snorted at the news. "He knows about the mutt and his bitch then. How close are they?" Rowan hopped on his bike.

Rowan growled in response before closing the phone. "Jason, go clear out the shop on twelfth street. Take some of the pack with you. Someone's snitched to Baron." He caught sight of Raven and called her over. "Raven! You and your group are coming with me." He opened his phone and hit the speed dial. "Batu. Get Claire in position to see the casino. Get your vampires there." He closed the phone and revved up his bike. Raven started shouting at her group to follow.

Jason grunted irately, "There'd better be some Bloodstones to get my teeth into there," he muttered, annoyed to be missing out on the main event. He didn't argue, though, turning to yell orders to two of the pack. "Rachelle, Lyon, you're with me!" he barked.

The two in question were quick to respond, and in moments they had set out on their bikes, heading for the Bloodstones' weapons store.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Tiko and Sokka

Renard's shop door stood broken in, the alarm system dismantled and its wires hanging loose. Broken glass littered the floor where gun cabinets and display stands had been broken into, and the weapons lifted.

The source of the vandalism had made its way to the nearby factory itself by the time Renard arrived, and Marc and Carlisle were loading crates into the back of a large van.

A motor cycle screatched into the loading dock next to the van and Renard jumped off. A he wore all black and a leather jacket as well. A pistol was openly holstered on his hip. He had already told the others when he got the call what to get. He gave them the combination to the hidden store rooms.

"I've just got a few more thing's I have to get then I'm going to leave a few surprises."

"No time for that," Carlisle said. "Just grab what you can and then we need to clear out. The Scions are moving on the place."

"Alright, give me two minutes, I've just got three more cases to get from my office, toss my bike in the van?" Jean said as he ran into the building. He ran into his office and moved to enter a key into a pannel in the wall which slid aside. He pulled a few weapons and tossed them in two weapon cases slinging them over his shoulder. He rummaged through the cabinet tossing a few things into a small bag.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Script, Tiko, and Sokka

The sound of roaring engines announced the Scions' arrival before they skidded around the corner of the street, two men and one woman, on bikes that shot towards where Marc and Carlisle were loading the van.

"Shit. Renard, we need to go now!" barked Carlisle as he closed the back doors of the van.

Marc knew trouble when he saw it and he jerked open the passenger side door of the van and grabbed a rifle from where it was sitting on the seat.

He raised it up and fired a shot into Lyon's chest.

The shot took the burly wolf from the back of the bike, leaving it to skid out of control into a parked car with a crash. Lyon himself hit the ground hard, bouncing several times on the concrete before sliding to a halt. A trail of red stained the road behind him.

Seemingly unphased by her packmate's fall, Rachelle raised her uzi as she drew close enough to get a shot and pulled the trigger, spraying bullets towards the front of the van.

Marc had some margin of cover behind the van door, but it was far from an armored vehicle. He snarled as several bullets found their mark.

Meanwhile Renard heard the shout and swore under his breath. He grabbed a sphere out of the cabinet and walked out of his office tossing it into one ofthe work rooms as he jogged on his way out the door. He pulled his rifle up and moved toward the door as he heard gunfire.He brought his rifle up and charged out he bolted toward the van for cover.

"Hold them off," Carlisle growled to Renard. "If you get the chance, take the van and go."

The feral rumble in his throat and the wolfish gleam in his eyes was all the explanation needed as he shed his coat. While his body contorted beneath bulging muscles and popping bones, he would be extremely vulnerable for the next few moments.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Tiko and Script

Though wounded, it would take more than a few bullets to slow Marc down. As Rachelle banked to pass the van by, he unloaded another gunshot into the front wheel of her bike

The shot took out the bike's tire, and within moments the scrape of metal on concrete sounded as it spun out of control. Rachelle's reflexes were fast, though, and before the bike flipped, she dived clear. Her palm brushed the floor, and she swung into a somersault that landed her on her feet with a skid of her boots as her bike careened past and into the side of the building.

In the meantime, Jason gunned the accelerator on his bike as he cut a path straight towards the waiting van. Grinning ear to ear, the Scions' enforcer waited till the last moment before he pulled the front wheel up and jumped free, rolling to safety as the bike hurtled into the front of the van, hitting the hood and skidding up it to slam through the windscreen.

As the shattered glass rained down, Jason rose to his feet and cracked his knuckles. It was time to make a mess.

As Jason came around the front of the van, Marc ripped the door of the van clean off before using it as a blunt object against the approaching werewolf.

Jason brought his hands up to catch the door as Marc swung it at him, growling and pulling at it to try and unbalance him.

The door crumpled like a tin can between their matched grips before with a snarl, it was flung to the side, leaving Marc and Jason facing off directly.

Wasting no time, Jason moved in with a strike for Marc's midsection, a faint glow pulsing in the veins of his arm as his fist barreled in with the force of a sledgehammer.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Sokka, Script, and Tiko

Renard watched as Rachelle and the bike went skidding by. He brought his rifle up and immediately fired three silver laced rounds toward her skidding form.

Rachelle's eyes had locked onto Renard as soon as he came into her view upon landing, and registered his rifle as a threat. By the time he fired the first shot she was already moving, weaving and ducking to try and avoid the gunfire as she ran forwards. One of the shots still landed a glancing blow on her side, whilst another struck her just below her left collar bone. Neither visibly slowed her, though her face twisted in pain at the second shot. Her uzi was dropped as she unsheathed a vicious looking shortsword and ducked in to thrust for Renard's chest.

Renard was counting, as he watched Rachelle advance he considered trying to fire again but pushed that thought out 7....6...5... as Rachelle brought her blade up he dove to the left and attempted to push the blade aside with his rifle and kicked out at her legs.

The kick landed, but Rachelle kept her balance, turning to slash at him a second time with the aim to use her weapon's finesse to her advantage against the more cumbersome rifle by striking swiftly and repeatedly before he had time to maneuver it.

Renard suddenly found himself under attack again there was no time to bring his rifle around to block the attack, he dove to the left but he felt her blade slice into his side slightly.

Meanwhile Carlisle fell to all fours as the remainder of his clothing shredded around his growing form. He didn't have the height or heft of some of the larger wolves in the pack, but his gangly limbs left him able to lope on all fours, or to stand erect. It was a well rounded form, and though he lacked the brute strength of the beefier wolves, or the speed of the purely quadrupedal, the over developed digits of his hands where well suited for climbing, or grabbing.

As he shook himself off he let out a roar at Rachelle. Renard had fast become the obsolete threat at hand.

He swiftly interjected himself between the fallen Renard and Rachelle via a powerful shoulder slam and swing of his arm to send her slamming into the nearby wall as the grenade went off, triggering the explosion of a small propane tank in the work station. There wasn't much damage to be done however the sound from the resulting explosion carried through the building shattering a few windows and would be heard throughout the streets of Cascastel.

Carlisle turned his gaze upon Renard as he locked eyes for a scant moment before wheeling about to keep himself between Renard and Rachelle.

Coughing from the dust kicked up by her impact with the wall, Rachelle pushed herself to her feet with a grimace. Blood ran down her face and she coldly wiped it from her eyes. Her shortsword had skidded across the ground and under a car. This, she noted dryly, was why she always carried backups.

Lots and lots of backups. She reached backwards to grab the hilt of a blade strapped to her back, unsheathing it in a smooth motion and holding it out defensively between her and Carlisle. The hefty greatsword was almost as tall as Rachelle herself, but she held it aloft seemingly without effort. But rather than moving to advance, she instead circled around to the side, aiming to safely create distance between herself and Carlisle until she saw an opening.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Script and Sokka

With Marc and Jason brawling it out and Carlisle holding off Rachelle, Jean saw his chance, he drew his pistol and ran for the drivers side door. throwing it open and jumping into the drivers seat. "Please still work..." He muttered as he threw the van into drive and floored it taking off down the road.

Just down the street, Lyon was beginning to push himself to his feet. A grimace was painted on his face and his breathing heavy - Marc's shot had struck him straight in the chest, and he was far from a speedy regenerator. But he wasn't about to be taken out by one shot. He was a Scion, and a tough one at that. He lifted himself onto one knee, but when he looked up to see what was happening in the fight, the only thing in his view was the rapidly approaching front of Renard's van.

"Fuck," he swore.

Renard sped forward and as he noticed Lyon getting up he slammed his foot on the pedal accelerating to a higher speed as he aimed straight for him and flicked his high beams on to blind him in the process. "If this thing can take a bike it should be able to take down a Scion." He said.

Wounded as he was, Lyon had no chance of getting out of the way in time. The van juddered as it struck him and pulled him under the tyres with a sickening crunch.

Renard flinched for a second as he hit Lyon and heard the sickening crunch, he didn't look back he just drove forward taking a turn at the nearest intersection to head deeper into Bloodstone turf.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Tiko and Script

Marc slammed his own open palm forward to intercept Jason's fist with muscles of iron bulging in his tree-trunk arms from the force of the collision. He growled lowly and let the wolf rise in him to lend him its strength and ferocity. His other fist he drove forward for Jason's sternum, with equal force.

In response, Jason brought his own free hand forwards to meet Marc's punch in a similar fashion, catching the fist and stopping it dead as pulses of light radiated through his arm. He grinned broadly, staring dead into Marc's eyes as his own wolf reared its head... alongside something else. There was a deep crimson behind his eyes, sinister and unnatural, even for a werewolf.

The pair seemed evenly matched, initially, but as the contest of strength wore on, Marc's arms began to shake. It inflamed his anger, but even that raging inferno couldn't hold a candle to the unnatural forces that coursed through Jason's blood.

With another surge, Jason shoved Marc off balance.

Twisting, Marc's hands closed around one of the crates they hadn't yet loaded and spun to smash it into Jason, spilling ammunition all over the floor.

Jason brought one arm up to intercept the crate's path, but though the wood splintered and split over his forearm, the impact still caused him to stumble a step to the side. His skin remained unbroken, however, and he didn't miss a beat in pushing forwards to once more drive his fist in towards Marc's midriff, growling with exertion.

The blow brought Marc to his knees with the audible cracking of several ribs and a grunt.

Wasting no time, Jason swung again, this time a vicious overhand punch into Marc's face, driving him towards the ground. It was followed by a booted kick to the jaw to send him sprawling to the side. As it struck, Jason laughed cruelly.

"Is this the best you mongrels have to offer?" he mocked.

"You aren't fit to lick our boots, you fucking cocksucker," Marc growled as he half rolled to his side, his face a bloody mess and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

He spat onto the ground at his side before regaining his footing. One hand was pressed to his side though, where the grating of broken bones burned deep, and it was clear he was hurt bad in the guarded way he moved to keep from exposing the broken ribs to further assault from Jason as they squared off again.

Jason tutted with a smirk, "Pretty rich to call someone a cocksucker midway through getting your shit packed in," he chuckled, cracking his knuckles. His stance remained cocky and unshaken, and it was clear that in contrast to Marc, he'd barely broken a sweat. "Tell you what, since you're such a sweet-talker, if you get back down on your knees and tell me you're my bitch, I might just let you live."

The outrage in Marc's face left him moving on Jason with a reckless swing for the insolent pup's jaw.

Grinning at the ease with which Marc had been baited, Jason deftly stepped to the side and brought his own fist up to slam into Marc's face with brutal force, using his momentum against him.

Marc wasn't sure what hit him, or when, but the next thing he realized was he was coming to his senses on the floor.

His face was an explosion of pain, broken teeth, and a cracked jaw, and he had no sense of what direction Jason was as he tried to roll over to right himself.

The next thing he felt was Jason's foot stamping down on his back, forcing him back down to the ground and pinning him there as the scion crouched over him, leaning in close.

Jason's breath was hot as he whispered cruelly into Marc's ear. "Night night."

Then his hands were on the fallen man's head, and they twisted with a sickening crack.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Tiko and Script

As the van screeched out, Carlisle moved on Rachelle swiftly with another back-handed blow to swat her across the loading dock and into the far wall from the one she had already struck.

Rachelle ducked under the swing, rolling to the side and back to her feet in the same direction as the attempted swat. Once on her feet, she backpedalled, trying to maintain as much distance as possible between herself and Carlisle even as he moved into another charge.

If she could buy enough time, she was confident Jason would make short work of the other Bloodstone and come to her aid. Until then, she just had to keep this one's attention off of his comrade.

Carlisle was relentless, however, and Rachelle's superior dexterity was tested to its limits as she was forced to dodge, dive and leap out of his reach repeatedly. Maintaining her grip on her broadsword was becoming a significant hindrance, but she was loathe to discard it for when she would inevitably have to fight back. She couldn't run forever.

That moment came when a backwards dodge pressed her back up against a wall. A stack of crates stood to her left, and Carlisle himself was broad enough to cut off the majority of her options of easy escape.

As she ducked his next swing, his arm crashed through the pile of crates, momentarily leaving his forearm entangled in the wreckage of splintered wood as he shook the crates free.

Rachelle seized the opportunity, bringing her sword up fluidly as she rose from her dodge to slash it across his midsection, moving past him in the process.

The slash did little more than enrage him further as he twisted with her, his other arm swinging in a vicious arc towards her with the force of a battering ram.

Just barely ducking beneath the strike in time, Rachelle went for another swing of her blade, this time bringing it across his chest. If she wanted to do any real damage, she needed to try for a thrust, but finding the opportunity to do so without being rewarded with another violent trip across the loading dock was easier said than done.

With the keen bite of her sword to add caution to his next move, he dropped to all fours, circling her with menacing intent as he searched for an opening past her guard.

That opening would never come, however, as Carlisle's attention would likely be diverted to the entirely unsubtle approach of Jason. The other scion sprinted towards the pair with the intent of barrelling into Carlisle's side like a freight train.

It wouldn't be Carlisle that he struck though as the wily werewolf leaped overhead, one claw snagging into metal beams as he swung himself up, narrowly evading another slash of Rachelle's sword. In a single fluid movement he sprung away from the pair of them as Jason passed beneath him, slamming straight into and through the concrete wall left in his path.

Carlisle's leap carried him twenty feet clear of the pair, and he was quickly re-assessing the situation. Marc was dead, but Renard had gotten clear with the van. He himself was now out-numbered.

Without a look back, he made a break for the streets.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Script and Tiko

Jason stumbled free of the dust and debris from the hole he'd created in the wall, shaking his head to clear it from the impact. Rachelle was already moving after Carlisle's retreating form, picking up speed startlingly fast despite retaining her human shape.

Her sword she returned to its sheathe as she ran, leaning down to snatch up her discarded uzi as she passed by it.

Jason was close behind her, and the pair gave chase without hesitation.

Carlisle path took him straight into oncoming traffic, and though it was late and the vehicles on the road were sparce, he abruptly found himself in the path of a large tractor trailer.

The vehicle's horn blared as the driver slammed on the breaks, but as it jack-knifed out of control, Carlisle threw himself back the way he came to avoid the vehicle as it overturned and plowed through the wall of a nearby building.

The near miss gave the pursuing scions the time they needed to close on Carlisle's lead. Rachelle raised her uzi and opened fire on his position, emptying her clip towards him as she approached.

The spray of bullets forced Carlisle back against the bottom of the truck, and though many of them hit the vehicle at his back, many too found their mark.

As the weapon clicked empty, he unleashed a bone-chilling roar at the pair of them before leaping and swinging himself up onto the mangled side of the overturned trailer. The metal caved under the weight of him dropping on it before he sprang for the side of the building overhead as his claws found purchase in the mold of the brick architecture.

Jason didn't slow his charge, overtaking Rachelle as she slowed to reload, and as Carlisle leaped to the truck and began to scale the building, he followed suit. His own leap took him to the truck, before a second bound launched him towards the retreating werewolf in an attempt to slam into him and drag him back down to the truck below.

Both Carlisle and Jason came crashing down through the side of the trailer, splintering through the crates of cargo. Carisle wasted little time in trying to shake himself free of the mess as he wheeled about on Jason with a snarl.

As the dust cleared from the pair's impact, it became apparent that they weren't alone in the truck's trailer. Its cargo, contained carefully within numerous crates, had been released upon it overturning. The air was filled with a deafening buzzing as thousands of bees began to pour out into the street from their shattered hives, angrily stinging at the pair of werewolves in their midst.

Jason paid the angry insects little mind, however, as their stingers failed to pierce his skin. They did serve to obscure his vision, however, the swarms forming a living cloud that seemed to be growing larger by the second.

Carlisle's fur protected him from the brunt of the angry stinging insects, but he was equally as blinded by the cloud as they stung at the more sensitive and less well protected regions of his face. He backed up from Jason, shaking his head against the violent swarm.

Jason's advance was slow as he squinted through the swarm, holding one arm up to keep them clear of his eyes. With his free arm, he grabbed for a half-shattered hive, easily plucking it from the ground and tossing it towards Carlisle with a grunt.

The hive broke appart against Carlisle, but otherwise had little appartant effect. The swarming bees proved more than a minor nuisance though, and they drove him to launch himself for the hole in the trailer, trying once more to gain purchase on the side of the building. Anticipating Jason's pursuit this time, he dug his claws in only long enough to launch himself away from the building, and across the street where he hit the ground at a run.

Jason emerged from the trailer himself just in time for Carlisle to sail over his head. He growled, turning to run around the truck and after him. The bloodstone wolf had a lead on him again, however, and the chances of another lucky truck giving him a chance to close the gap were slim.

In the meantime, Rachelle - who had been forced back away from the truck by the cloud of bees, being far more vulnerable to their stings than either Carlisle or Jason - turned her uzi on his retreating form, opening fire once more.

Though some of the hail of bullets landed, they failed to slow him, and Jason was soon forced to abandon his pursuit as it became clear that catching him wasn't going to happen. He scowled angrily, turning to stalk back towards Rachelle's position.

"Gah. We lost Lyon and only took one of them out for it. Not good enough. Those pathetic cowards ought to be dying in droves for every one of us that falls," he spat.

"Don't be so sure," Rachelle replied with a small smile. "If that one's not a regenerator, he won't get too far."

Jason shot her a confused glance for a moment, before cottoning on. "Poison?" he asked. She nodded her head in response, and his scowl shifted to a grin. "You underhanded cunt. Good job. Now come on, let's get out of here before the cops show. Maybe if we're lucky we'll find some more prey on the way out."

Leaving the swarming bees behind them, the two ran from the scene in search of further mayhem to cause.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Zarhara, Script, and Tiko

Renard watched as Rachelle and the bike went skidding by. He brought his rifle up and immediately fired three silver laced rounds toward her skidding form.

Rachelle's eyes had locked onto Renard as soon as he came into her view upon landing, and registered his rifle as a threat. By the time he fired the first shot she was already moving, weaving and ducking to try and avoid the gunfire as she ran forwards. One of the shots still landed a glancing blow on her side, whilst another struck her just below her left collar bone. Neither visibly slowed her, though her face twisted in pain at the second shot. Her uzi was dropped as she unsheathed a vicious looking shortsword and ducked in to thrust for Renard's chest.

Renard was counting, as he watched Rachelle advance he considered trying to fire again but pushed that thought out 7....6...5... as Rachelle brought her blade up he dove to the left and attempted to push the blade aside with his rifle and kicked out at her legs.

The kick landed, but Rachelle kept her balance, turning to slash at him a second time with the aim to use her weapon's finesse to her advantage against the more cumbersome rifle by striking swiftly and repeatedly before he had time to maneuver it.

Renard suddenly found himself under attack again there was no time to bring his rifle around to block the attack, he dove to the left but he felt her blade slice into his side slightly.

Meanwhile Carlisle fell to all fours as the remainder of his clothing shredded around his growing form. He didn't have the height or heft of some of the larger wolves in the pack, but his gangly limbs left him able to lope on all fours, or to stand erect. It was a well rounded form, and though he lacked the brute strength of the beefier wolves, or the speed of the purely quadrupedal, the over developed digits of his hands where well suited for climbing, or grabbing.

As he shook himself off he let out a roar at Rachelle. Renard had fast become the obsolete threat at hand.

He swiftly interjected himself between the fallen Renard and Rachelle via a powerful shoulder slam and swing of his arm to send her slamming into the nearby wall as the grenade went off, triggering the explosion of a small propane tank in the work station. There wasn't much damage to be done however the sound from the resulting explosion carried through the building shattering a few windows and would be heard throughout the streets of Cascastel.

Carlisle turned his gaze upon Renard as he locked eyes for a scant moment before wheeling about to keep himself between Renard and Rachelle.

Coughing from the dust kicked up by her impact with the wall, Rachelle pushed herself to her feet with a grimace. Blood ran down her face and she coldly wiped it from her eyes. Her shortsword had skidded across the ground and under a car. This, she noted dryly, was why she always carried backups.

Lots and lots of backups. She reached backwards to grab the hilt of a blade strapped to her back, unsheathing it in a smooth motion and holding it out defensively between her and Carlisle. The hefty greatsword was almost as tall as Rachelle herself, but she held it aloft seemingly without effort. But rather than moving to advance, she instead circled around to the side, aiming to safely create distance between herself and Carlisle until she saw an opening.