Jaime Davies (monologuinghero) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2009-07-29 21:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2024 07 |
RP: Engaging on Her Own
Who: Brenna, Sterling, Acevona
Behind the Scenes: Mal MacGregor, Eva Small
Where: Cardiff
When: July 29, 2024 Evening
Rating/Warning: R, violence, language, batshit insanity
Summary: On patrol, Brenna runs across "Drakkor" in the process of attacking a Muggle in their home
Status: Closed, completed.
Brenna had been vaguely aware of Damian leaving that morning. She'd heard the alarm charm, felt his lips on her own, and she was fairly certain she'd mumbled something about being busy that night so he wouldn't stop by. However, she might have only thought she'd told him that.
The day had been spent - after she'd woken up properly - wandering around Cardiff and talking to people. Her inquiries were not exactly subtle but most of the people she'd spoken with were happy to chat. She used variations of the same story - she was new to the area, thinking about moving to town, but had heard there was a crazed killer on the loose. A few people had known the victims, and the general feel on that was they'd been two harmless old ladies that had grown up together and had moved in together after their husbands had died.
After the data gathering, she'd retreated to her room, made a few notes for her report, had a shower, something to eat, and a nap. She had a little trouble falling asleep in the bed alone, and if Damian hadn't been at work, she would've owled him to come stay with her. But he wasn't coming tonight, and that made her sad.
Still, she had a job to do. After her nap, she'd dressed in darker attire, tying her hair back and making sure she was armed. She had her wand, of course, but also had a set of throwing blades strapped to her wrist, and a switchblade in her pocket. Sure, it wasn't exactly Ministry standard - or Ministry approved - but she knew how to use them and she'd rather get a wrist slap and be alive than do everything completely by the book and be dead.
Starting out of the hotel, she headed toward the edges of town, toward the isolated houses shrouded in darkness. The likely targets. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she moved quietly along the lane, not even whistling to keep herself company. Her eyes flicked over the houses that she passed, and most of them were quiet, undisturbed, silent sentinels to the darkness.
Until she heard the scream.
Unthinking, she darted toward the house the sound had come from, pausing only when she saw that the front door was ajar. She knew there were steps to follow, she knew she wasn't supposed to go in alone, but in the time it would take her to whip off a patronus and for help to arrive, whatever was going on might be done. So Brenna burst inside - loudly.
"This is the police! Come out with your hands up!" Cheesy and wrong? It definitely was, but it was effective. A man with a bit of blood on his face stepped out of what she could only assume was a first floor bedroom.
"Police," he said, his eyes flicking up and down her body. "You don't look like authority."
Brenna shrugged one shoulder. "I'm undercover," she retorted as she studied him, memorizing the noteable features. Bleached hair, sunken cheeks, blood on his face. Trenchcoat.
"Right, well, I'm a little busy, so if you'd kindly fuck off, that'd be keen," he said as he started to turn back toward the room.
Brenna slipped her wand out, throwing a stunner at him. She was more than a little surprised when she saw it hit him - and do nothing.
Sterling paused, and turned to face her. "Police," he repeated. "Auror, maybe? That tickled a bit, by the by. For future reference. Now, really, I've got some business to tend to."
"What the fuck are you?" she barked as she lifted her wand slightly.
"What the fuck am I?" he echoed. "I. I am your worst bloody nightmare, that's what the fuck I am," he replied as he advanced on her. He was displeased to note that she didn't back off, or even look afraid. What the fuck?
"That's the cheesiest goddamn line I've heard--"
"You've heard, what, since you busted in here with your police shit?"
"Who are you?" She didn't dare try another spell. Not if it was just going to bounce off him. She reasoned, in an 'oh duh' moment of clarity, that he was likely a werewolf if the spell hadn't affected him. Which meant she needed to whip out the stronger ones - and that was fine by her.
"Drakkor," he said, a grin on his lips as he continued his advance. He was standing right in front of her, her wand pressing against his chest, and why the bloody red fuck wasn't she backing off? Sterling grunted, stumbling back a little as her wand moved against his chest, whatever she'd used enough to push him away.
He twitched, and shook his head, and bared his bloody teeth. He lunged at her, intending to tackle her. He managed to shove her back against a wall, though he felt a sudden icy heat flare through his belly. Glancing down, he saw her blade buried in his gut, and he laughed. "Oh, kitten. You think that's going to hurt me?" he growled.
"Think it'll fucking give you something to think about," she snapped back as she twisted the blade, using what limited motion she had to simply jab and thrust and twist. She felt warm wet stuff over her hand, and not all of it was completely liquid, and that was fucking disgusting, but she wouldn't gag or barf, not until this was done. She was a fucking hitwitch, she could handle a goddamn werewolf.
Sterling laughed as he hopped backward, gazing down at his ruined middle. "Right pet. You've put a bit of a twitch into my fun." He reached down, hiking up his shirt to display the mess of his belly. Well, that would take a few days to heal up right now wouldn't it? Come the full, he'd be fine, but until then ... maybe he'd just stay inside. Casting one last glance at her, he turned away. Starting off, he staggered a little as a stronger stunner hit him in the back ... but he wasn't going to stick around to play. She seemed to mean business, and didn't that just suck? Apparating away, he vacated the scene of the crime.
Brenna was shaking violently, but she had no promise he wouldn't be back. Flicking her wand three times, she sent off a series of patronuses - one to get an oblivator, one to get the auror clean-up crew, and one to get a healer. She moved in to tend to the victims as well as she could, grateful that neither of them were dead, though one of them was bleeding from a number of wounds.
When the other witches and wizards arrived, she moved out of the way to let them do their job. She heard the start of interrogations, heard the name Fenrir, and kind of gagged a little as she made her way outside. Plunking herself down on the porch steps, she waited for someone to come talk to her - she'd have to do at least a mini report before she was done for the evening.
When the healer came out, Brenna quirked a grin because she recognized her. The woman was a specialist, but Brenna had been under her care a time or two. "Hey, Miss Sumner," she said, almost cheerfully despite the residual shaking.
"Hello, Miss McKimmon," Ace greeted as she sat down beside the girl. She slipped a vial out of her robes, offering it over to her. "Calming draught. You weren't ... injured, were you?"
Brenna shook her head before she tilted her chin up to expose her throat. "He grabbed me, but I don't think he cut anything."
Ace illuminated the tip of her wand, surveying Brenna's throat. There was a bruise, but no broken skin. Lucky, that. "So tell me about this bloke?" she requested. "They got a fairly good description from the Muggles, but if you had anything to add?"
Brenna nodded slightly before she took the potion. She described the man, the encounter, as much of the dialogue as she could recall, and by the time she was done with the story, she was feeling contently sedated, and just a little sleepy. Brenna glanced up as the others filed out, and she offered them a faint nod and a smile - at least the ones that looked at her. She recognized all of them from the Ministry, though at the moment she was hard pressed to recall any names.
With their job done, they all popped away, and Brenna sighed as she stood up. Acevona stood with her. "You'll be all right for the evening?" the healer inquired. "How long are you here?"
"'til Friday," Brenna admitted. "I'm all right though. Just shaken, kind of tired, but ... I don't think he'll be comin' 'round again tonight. I carved him up pretty good," she continued. She wasn't proud of that, precisely, but she had gotten the job done. She'd saved the Muggles, she'd done her job, and so too had the others. All in all, it was a good night.
Could've been better if she'd gotten him instead of him getting away, but even the hitwitches didn't always get their werewolves.
She consented to Ace walking her back to the hotel, and once she was in her room, she gazed at her bed. Her eyes flicked to the clock and she saw it was just after twelve-thirty. She shouldn't ... send anything to Damian, but she wanted him here. She wanted him to hold her, to just be there with her. But he had to work in the morning, and it was selfish of her to want that. Gnawing on her lower lip, she sent off a patronus to him to let him know she was okay, he'd understand when he heard tomorrow, and if he wanted to come hold her, she wouldn't protest.
That done, she headed into the shower to wash the yuck of the evening off of her.