Backup needed {Tsu/Sam}

[NightshadeVII]

Everything had gone horribly wrong. It was meant to be routine, a run-of-the-mill possession assignment, something that could be dealt with quickly and decisively. But it hadn’t been.
Samael hadn’t expected anything else but a possessed human, due to the lack of information on the situation. When he had been called in, he was told that the spirit had hidden in an abandoned warehouse and that it had abandoned its first vessel. Unfortunately, it had found something much bigger than a human.
Of course it had to be a minotaur, standing maybe nine or ten feet tall, but who was counting? And of course, it had managed to break off one of the warehouse’s smaller, industrial cranes, which it was now swinging wildly. The dullahan couldn’t help but feel like he was playing that carnival game everyone told him about; Whack-a-mole. But he was the mole.

Outside the abandoned warehouse, WDSA had set up a perimeter, which the possessed minotaur had to be kept inside until it had calmed down and the spirit had been dealt with. Samael couldn’t see either of those things happening any time soon. But he fully intended to keep the perimeter for as long as he could, and longer if necessary. He had to.
He called sent for backup maybe fifteen minutes go, but he couldn’t remember, too preoccupied with staying out of the minotaur’s massive reach. He just knew he needed someone, anyone to help with this, despite his pride. Right now, no progress was being made, the minotaur too confused, scared and angry to be calmed, and Sam too caught up in not getting crushed by it, to get close and do anything useful. During the last fifteen minutes, it had become painfully obvious to him that he had been over-ambitious.
Now, his armor was had been broken, torn apart and caved in, leaving him vulnerable. In some places, where the armor seemed like it had been carved through cleanly, the burnt metal looked like it was merging with Sam’s skin, fusing with it and leaving wounds exposed.

He had given up attacking long ago, using all his strength and energy on defense in the hope that it would keep the minotaur occupied, tire it out and buy him time. Armed only with a shield now, he took blow after blow, each one coming down fiercer than the one before, fueled by the minotaur’s own confusion and the spirit’s anger. The pauses in the bombardment were few and far inbetween, only giving Samael precious seconds to brace himself.
“Listen, I don’t want to hurt you-!”, The shield took another hit, Samael and the metal groaning in near unison against the sudden impact, but it was holding for now, “I’m trying to help you!”
Another hit. This time powerful enough to make the dullahan skid a few centimeters backwards. He would begin loosing ground quickly at this rate.

Then, the minotaur lifted the crane above its head, bringing it down almost instantly.
“Bleeding hell-“, he sidestepped quickly, “can’t you hear me?! I’m not your enemy!”
Nothing reached the poor creature. Again, glowing eyes locked on the dullahan, but this time something was different, something changed. Instead of going for another overhead blow, it tried to hit Samael from the side, testing just how quickly the dullahan’s reaction-time was. Turned out it was just barely fast enough. The industrial crane met the edge of Samaels shield, forcing it into his side, metal smashing against ribs. Samael groaned. That would to leave a mark.

While the minotaur recovered, Samael shot a glance at the entrance behind him, hoping the backup would arrive soon.

[tsukikoko]

The minotaur came forward, nostrils flaring, eyes wild with demented glee at Samael's grunt of discomfort. It wouldn't be long now, he couldn't last that much longer. Desperate words fell on deaf ears. The spirit did not care and it's host had long since passed the point of awareness. Another ear-splitting bellow sounded as the creature wound up the crane for another swing, intent on crushing the agent in front of it - watching him crumple, seeing his body split. Oh the addictive, blissful glee that would bring.

So engrossed in that task, so set on filling itself with the emotive energy it craved, the spirit-possessed minotaur had not noticed the third figure now in the building, his entrance masked by its own bellowing. The aura approaching should have filled the spirit with an instinctive, age-old terror; of a rabbit cowering in a burrow from the fox's shadow. But the fixation was too great, complacency at being safe from this predator for so long too well engrained.

As the crane came down, the minotaur's jaws split too wide for its face, a massive, furred fist collided with the side of its head. Metal slammed into the ground beside Sam, thrown off course by the force of the blow. With a confused grunt and a squeal the minotaur spun towards its aggressor, to be met by a set of snarling jaws and another fist beneath its chin and a third into its chest, sending the creature flying. As large, if not taller, than the minotaur, stood a humanoid figured bathed in fur that may have once been black as midnight, but was now peppered with touches of silver. A large tail stood erect behind him and with his risen hackles the fur along his neck and spine bunched into a spiked ruff that was almost a mane. A massive wolf head sat atop his shoulders and every inch of the werewolf was layered in powerful muscle, while wicked claws extended from the tips of every digit. The creature was built for war, that much was clear.

Tsu had heard the call not 15 minutes prior, insisted he attend the scene despite on returning to the WDSA a short while ago. Spirits were his forte after all and anything powerful enough to make Samael call it in could easily be fatal to anyone not equipped to handle it. The werewolf could take far greater punishment than most and dish out the damage in return. At the perimeter he had sprinted past with only the barest flash of a badge, his shirt and jacket tossed aisde only a few seconds later as he ran. Younger members of the WDSA had tried to stop him, but the older among them put out a hand to stand them down; they knew the werewolf, remembered him from the last time he had been in Wathais and were fully aware of his abilities.

Now, within the building, Tsukiko turned his wolven head to the dulluhan, a faint snarl still on his features that he couldn't quite drop. In this form, with a battle already on the cards, even pausing in his attack to speak was a monumental task of self control. His voice, deep and contorted by a growl, was more than a touch difficult to understand.
"Sam! You hurrrrt?"
He knew, given their past meetings and that Samael was not human, he would not be driven to terror the same way many others would be. A good thing, too, given his only way to fight this minotaur effectively was in the most dangerous of his forms. Speaking of which, one ear flickered at a sound to his left. Tsu spun back to his opponent, just as a set of lowered horns slammed into his chest. He felt the sharp tips pierce his flesh, but it was a dull thing, more a registering of the force behind the blow than any pain. As he was charged towards the far wall, clawed hands gripped the minotaur's head, preventing the horns sinking any deeper. The werewolf planted his feet, pushing back against the creature, his jaws clamping down on the back of its neck as they struggled. He could sense the spirit now, driven by a conflicting mix of confidence and desperation. It liked the body it had found, the territory it had established for itself, the power it had gained from devouring lesser spirits and being undisturbed for so long. The werewolf was a threat it did not appreciate and while it had the chance, wanted to kill its ancient predator. With a mighty heave of the possessed super's head, Tsu was lifted from the ground and then driven, hard, into a nearby slab of concrete. Once, twice, the minotaur rammed him, blood staining its horns and head, until two feet planted solidly into its chest and sent it skidding across the warehouse floor.

There had not been time to prepare any rites, he was running low on essence after a prior altercation; Tsu was fighting with only his natural abilities and had no way to bind the spirit to prevent escape. He could tear it apart, but that would kill the minotaur, who could well still be saved. As the werewolf pushed himself back to his feet from the rubble, snarling more fiercely now, the scent of his own blood-matted fur filled his nostrils. His pupils teetered, lust for battle and destruction rising inside him. The wounds were already beginning to seal from the inside, but Tsu didn't even register the damage.
"Sam!" He yelled, while still of a sane enough mind to do so. "Perrrimeterrr. Bind it. IT CANNOT LEAVE!"
Then he was charging forward, meeting the minotaur's next assault head on. At the last moment the werewolf's body dipped, dropping beneath his opponent's head, before surging up in a flurry of fangs and claws to get his maw around the creature's throat. He threw it's momentum to the side and the two jugganauts soon slammed to the floor with a loud, dull thump and an explosion of concrete dust.

[NightshadeVII]

Samael was already bracing himself for the next blow, the next jarring, crushing strike that would come down on him, and was prepared to push back if needed. He still had no idea exactly how he intended to do that, but he’d have to find out if he got the chance. He hated that everything relied on that one “if”, yet it still had to do. Deep down, he knew that he could take it, knew that what was dwellig deep inside him wouldn’t let him be defeated, but he hadn’t gotten to that point yet.
However the next blow never came. Instead, the crane came crashing down beside the dullahan, metal screaming against the concrete floor, without direction. Instantly changing his stance, Samael looked up, distantly hearing the minotaur squeal. Recognition was instant, the massive figure of a wolf so familiar to him that he had no chance to mistake who had joined him. Tsukiko. An old friend and trusted coworker of his. Even if it had been years since they had last seen one another, the officer’s wolf form still looked much the same, just as impressive as it always had been, but was that silver hairs Samael saw?
“Sam! You hurrrt?”, yelled Tsu, his voice barely above a feral growl, something on the were of becoming incoherent. Still caught up in surprise that bordered on disbelief from seeing the werewolf again, an answer to the question wasn’t the first thing that came to Samael’s mind. Despite the entire situation, he was happy to see Tsu again.
But the dullahan never managed to reply in time, before the minotaur crashed into Tsukiko, head lowered, horns fixed on a target. Blood was drawn for the first time. Already, Samael’s body twitched, urging him to throw himself into the fray, to fight alongside Tsu again, or to at least help him. The clash of the two massive creatures was sudden, forceful and chaotic, and in mere seconds, blows had been exchanged, more blood, as one or the other tried to gain the upper hand.

Then came the order. Bind the spirit. Seal it within and don’t let it escape. An order Sam knew how to follow. Instantly he dropped the shield, the burnt metal clattering to the ground and disappearing, becoming nothing more than smoke as he set into action. Binding wasn’t his specialty, but he could at least do something, and it had to last.
Instead of a shield, he now gripped the handle of a sword, a signature weapon of his, not quite crude, but still menacing enough, a distortion of the traditional weapon. He was running now, keeping his distance from the brawling giants as he circled them, etching crude binding symbols in the concrete floor. If it was meant to contain the spirit, neither he or Tsukiko could risk the seals accidentally smearing. Line after line, symbol after symbol, the binding circle began to take shape, big enough for it to be unnoticed by the minotaur and Tsu, but small enough to keep the spirit inside the building. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the best he could do considering the circumstances. Again, the weapon in his hands dissipated, but instead of fading completely, it filled out the binding circle, activating it.

Now, finally, Samael could actually do something. It had only taken him about an hour to get to this point.
A whip appeared in the dullahan’s gloved had, the signature weapon of his kind. It was a gruesome thing to look at, the veterbra of a human spine connected by leather darker than obsidian. The weapon oozed, dripping the same smoking, tar-like liquid that filled Samael’s every wound. In reality, it was an extension of himself, something more than just another weapon. No matter how fond he was of his blade, this always felt a little more right, a little more true to him.
With ease, Samael spun the handle of the whip between his fingers, weight familiar and welcome. The tail unfurled, stretching longer than it should, the veterbrae aligned like pearls on a thread, a picture of torture, of a human shattered and a life ended, the bones clicking against the concrete as the weapon settled. But by then, Samael was already moving, fast but steady strides carrying him towards the two wrestling giants. A single purpose and a single thought leading him. Assist, help. Fight it.
Bring it down if necessary.
Samael shook his head. No. That wasn’t why he was here, wasn’t why he was needed or why he had decided to take this on. The very moment he was within range, Samael swung the whip, letting the tail cut across the skin of the minotaur’s back, splitting it almost too easily. Even so, there was a few seconds of delay, before the minotaur managed to process what had happened, processing the stinging pain to come. Barely had the minotaur begun to roar, before Samael pulled the whip back again, and brought his arm down in another arc, striking the minotaur a second time. The crack of the leather filled the air, loudly. The actions themselves seemed like something he didn’t even think of, more of an instinct than something he had spent time practicing.

The whip came down a third time, this blow more controlled than the others, uncannily precise as it curled around the minotaur’s throat, veterbra interlocked, becoming a collar of bones. And Samael pulled back without hesitation, a movement that had been honed over years, surpassing practice, in a display of strength beyond that which was human. At the sudden force, the bones dug into the minotaur’s neck, bending, breaking skin, even if that wasn’t the dullahan’s primary goal. No, that was much simpler. As he saw that the first pull hadn’t been enough, he repeated, intending to throw the minotaur off balance, to get him off of Tsukiko. This time, the minotaur lost its footing, sliding back a few inches, but Samael didn’t allow it time to recover its balance, knowing that timing was everything in this. A final pull, harsher than the others, faster and more remorseless, and finally, he got the reaction he wanted, managing to force the Minotaur to take half a step back. And knowing Tsukiko, half a step was enough.
Now he just had to keep the minotaur like that. Moving quickly, Samael spread his legs a little, bending in the knees while the wrapping the tail of the whip around his other hand as well. A solid stance, that might hold just long enough.

“A little late to the party, aren’t you, Tsukiko?”, Samael called out, a slight strain of effort in his voice, but it didn’t mask the humor in his words, “it’s unlike you. You missed all the fun!”

[tsukikoko]

The minotaur had just been reeling back from a raking of claws across its face, as a rebuttal to the attempted headbutt that risked spearing one of Tsukiko's eyes, when Samael's first blow landed across its back. The spirit inside realised the danger far too late, saw runes from behind burgundy eyes as the minotaur's head whipped around. Trapped, in a circle.

With a werewolf.

The humanoid bull took a half step back, had to, really, with the duluhan's whip firmly wrapped around its neck. With a bellowing, snorting roar after the second it tried to turn and face this new assault, only to be met with a solid punch beneath the chin as Tsu took advantage of the distraction. The creature staggered, seeing stars, but it didn't go down. Straining against the whip, the minotaur instinctively tried to lower its head to bring the sharp points of its horns to bear. Not that it did much good. Between Samael's restraints and a sudden, immesurably strong grip against one horn, the spirit-possessed humanoid knew then that it was over.
"I don't know." Came a snarling, but somehow midly amused despite the animalistic tone, "Still plenty of fun yet."
Another punch. A third. Like sledgehammer blows, driving the minotaur closer to the ground with each heavy strike. Once the creature was on its knees, propped up only by one elbow, Tsu lifted his golden gaze to Sam.
"Let go."
As soon as his companion responded and the weapon's grip eased, a massive clawed hand snatched the downed minotaur by the throat. There was a split second pause, a choked breath, the priming of muscles beneath shaggy fur, before Tsu lifted his foe clean off the floor. Hooved feet dangled, body completely unsupported as it left the floor, before the werewolf slammed his opponent back the ground on its back. The minotaur's breath left it in a hacking gasp, the warehouse floor cracking beneath its spine. Then Tsukiko was atop it, one clawed limb holding down each of the bull's, pinning it. The urge to clamp jaws around his fallen foe's neck crossed the werewolf's mind. Of biting down, pulling his head back, ripping the throat out in a mass of flesh and blood. It was the mounting effects of this form and the battle, the sheer power of his own rage threatening to overwhelm him. But all those years of honing control had not been for naught and with an exertion of will, Tsu kept his mental state intact.

There was a brief, snorting struggle, before wolven jaws peeled back to reveal rows of gleaming fangs. A snarl by one ear. Though not particularly loud, there was an undercurrent of power, of terrifying, intimidating force layered beneath it. A chill raced straight to the spirit's core. The incorporeal entity tried desperately to vacate, to discorporate and flee from the wolf it was now even more terrified of. But in succeeded only in exposing itself to the ancient predator beside it. The seal held, despite its rough structure. Tsu's head turned slowly to look at it. The tattoo on his shoulder, so far hidden by fur, began to glow a soft silver beneath the strands.

The spirit, though clearly not of the physical plane, was a horrifying amalgam nonetheless. An insectoid head, resembling a locust save the snapping ant-like mandibles, was perched atop a vaguely humanoid figure. Metal shards like spikes protruded from almost every available space, oil leaked and dripped steadily from its face, while exhaust fumes not dissimilar to a car's billowed from a split in its back. Two extra limbs extending from where shoulder blades would presumably be, instead of featuring lace-like wings as one might expect of an insect, had been sharpened into slim, spear-like weapons. A mass of tongues, all different shapes and sizes, extended as the creature opened its mandibles to hiss as the werewolf, brandishing the defences it had. Those defences included lifting a broken piece of concrete with the aid of piping that split the floor outside its prison and hurling the brick, not at Tsu, but over his head and towards the duluhan who had dared trap it here. Trusting that his partner would be able to defend himself, Tsu was not distracted and had soon abandoned the minotaur to throw himself at this twisted, demented spirit. Though terrified, it was not exactly defenceless even without a host, having empowered itself with weeks, maybe months or years of quietly devouring other creatures. Faced with an onslaught of teeth and claws that could most certainly touch it, the spirit swiped, stabbed and tried to impale the werewolf, even using the shards of metal embedded in its 'flesh' to slice him. Tsu's jaws clamped around one of its limbs and then, with a furious snarl, he began to shake his head back and forth, as a terrier will with a rat between its teeth. The two bladed spears stabbed him in the back, repeatedly, but there werewolf either didn't notice.. or didn't care.

For Sam, the building continued trying to attack him. Concrete, pieces of shattered metal, even the pipes themselves, either tried to launch themselves at him, or impale him.

[NightshadeVII]

Hearing the werewolf’s snarled, but amused response, Samael couldn’t help but chuckle, or well, at least try to. As always, it seemed like he wasn’t quite able to get the right sound, so what should have been a try at laughing became a hoarse, metallic, almost wheezing noise. Still, the dullahan shook his head, good-natured. Some things hadn’t changed about Tsu.
But even so, Samael didn’t allow himself to be distracted, didn’t allow himself to loosen his grip on the whip even as the minotaur strained against him, the force creating friction as whip and leather gloves pulled in different directions. Somehow, Samael didn’t feel the uncomfortable heat building in the palms of his hands, the pains of resistance. If anything, he tightened his grip, numb fingers digging into palms, already pale knuckles whitening underneath leather.
He could not allow the minotaur to move, while Tsu sent it to the floor, blow by blow. Demonstrating the power Samael hadn’t fogotten.

“Let go”
The dullahan tensed hearing this, surprised, even confused by the sudden request. Those words went against some old instincts, and older lessons, so intergrated in his behavior. Tilting his head a little as he looked at Tsu, he wondered what the werewolf had planned, wondered what thoughts lay hidden in those golden eyes. Then came the trust in the other officer, forged by experience, the respect he held, and Samael knew that Tsukiko had a plan. Only a few seconds after the werewolf’s words, Samael let go of the whip. Instantly, the leather began to decay, bones crumbling to dust. Some of the tar-like remains of the whip still cling to the minotaurs fur.
And Tsukiko moved, expertly savage, movements tainted by carefully maintained control, as he drove the minotaur down, forcing out the spirit, revealing it. But this didn’t make anything easier. Spirit and werewolf clashed almost instantly. The spirit fighting with fear on its side, Tsukiko remaining unfazed by it.

Samael circled the two, watching for his opportunity as he slowly came closer to the minotaur, abandoned on the floor like a forgotten toy. In a way, that was what it had been to the ghost, a toy, a tool, a means to an end and nothing more. Something that was to be discarded once it had served its purpose. A sad truth. But luckily the minotaur wasn’t dead, a quick glance had told Samael that, life still burned in its chest, faded, undermined for so long, but recovering. As Samael stood by the minotaur, he crouched down, placing a gloved hand on the creature’s chest, over its heart. Getting an idea of how long it took the creature to breathe once, how fast its heart was beating. Even if he could see whether or not someone or something was alive, it was a very black and white standard, saying nothing about the physical state of that life. Once satisfied, concluding that the minotaur had a chance to recover, albeit slowly, the dullahan rose again.
Just in time to see a piece of concrete, twisted by piping, being flung against him. An amalgamation of training and muscle memory took over near instantly and Samael dodged, feeling the whiff of air against his side, hearing the concrete pound against the floor, cracking and breaking apart. Yet the bombardment was far from over. It was as if the entire building had come alive and fixated on the dullahan, moving in to attack him from all angles. Bricks, piping, crates, all of it was flung at him, fast enough so that he barely had time to respond. He dodged were he could, but it did nothing, made nothing easier. Time and time again, a piece of brick, a section of pipe or other kinds of debris slipped past, slamming into his chest, his ribs, shoulders, arms and legs. Each blow registering. Leaving a bruse, breaking a rib.
Suddenly a small section of piping impaled the dullahan’s side, getting stuck. The smoking, tar-like substance that was his blood began to leak out of the wound, slowly, oozing, sticking to skin. Samael registered the pain, definitely felt it, felt it become clearer and clearer as time passed. But he didn’t react, refused to utter a sound, except for a sharp hiss. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was stubbornness.

But that was the moment he chose to sacrifice his pathetic shreds of defense. He had cowered behind shield and armor long enough today. No more. Pushing forward now, shield bending as it morphed into a blade, the dullahan went for the spears that protruded from the the spirit’s body. It seemed so fond of them. They had to go. The less Tsukiko had to worry about multiple sources of damage, the better.
Though impaled, wounded, the dullahan still tried to utilize the few advantages he had to their full potential, capable of weaving in and out of the fight, he struck, and retreated, struck and retreated, again and again, chipping away at the spirit’s defenses. But it wasn’t the actual damage he was going for, no, the werewolf was perfectly capable of delivering that. Instead, he aimed to find weakspots, cracks in the shell. He was trying to distract, irritate, to divert or split the spirit’s attention as much as he could, with each blow, as they came in rapid, unpredictable succession.
Finally he saw the opening he had been waiting for. The dullahan didn’t hesitate to put his body weight into the blow, which he aimed at those sharpened extra limbs. Hoping to cut them off if he could.
That had to do something.

[tsukikoko]

The spirit was indeed distracted by these new attacks, trying desperately to fend them off even with the werewolf's jaws tearing through its incorporeal hide. One of its limbs had already been severed by massive teeth and now, with Samael having survived its onslaught using shattered pieces of the building they fought within, the spirit found itself outnumbered and far outmatched. There was the flash of a weapon, an attack the spirit could not hope to avoid while grappled and stuck fast by its own spears to the black-furred predator mauling it.

The dullahan's blade struck true, carving through one of the blades spears in a spray of spiritual essence. The creature screamed, flailing the remnants of its severed limb. It was this shift in the spirit that drew Tsu's attention from his prey focus, catching Samael in his peripherals. Seeing the new damage; the impalement, the indented ribcage, each new wound making the wolf's blood throb in his ears just that bit louder.

His packmate, his longtime friend, injured.

Rage exploded within the werewolf's chest, pounded in his skull, showed in the feral light of his golden eyes. There was but a single, slim thread tethering him to reason, that stopped the terrible, destructive power of his primal beastial self from taking him over completely. He couldn't risk it, on attacking Samael or the downed minotaur in a haze of fury. That didn't stop him from attacking the spirit with even more ferocious vigor. His maw released its grip, a momentary respite for the insectoid creature who spun snapping mandibles towards Tsu's face while it had the chance. Only, that was exactly what the wolfbeast hoped for.

The spirit was met by a wide open mouth of a roar, glistening white teeth framing the world for a half second, before Tsukiko crunched down on the twisted, amalgamated head. There was another scream, the spirit's body began to twitch and spasm. Shards of limb pressed against furred shoulders in an attempt to push him off, to break free, only to be snatched by a grip somewhere between hand and paw. Tsu wrenched those limbs wide, tearing them at the joint, while his jaws continued their crushing work until, with a final whimper, the spirit's body dissolved into black ooze that trickled from between the werewolf's jaws and pooled upon the ground. He stood still afterwards, breath huffing in short, sharp pants. Each half-growl an effort to recentre himself, rather than from the exertion of the fight.

Eventually, the black head turned in Sam's direction,
"You ok?"
It wasn't much, but at that moment, it was all the words the werewolf could manage.

[NightshadeVII]

Samael didn’t notice much else than his blow landing, striking true and cutting cleanly. He heard the spirit’s scream of pain, otherworldly as it was, it tore at him just like any physical blow would have done. Like he could feel the pain himself, even if only faintly, some far away sensation. Distantly, he managed to pick up on how the spirit began to thrash, its essence grazing his own where it was exposed. A brief connection, barely forged before it was torn to shreds again.
Still his concentration left little room for him to take much else in. He couldn’t focus on the environment around him or the sound of his blood hitting the pavement every time he moved. Blind and deaf to anything but what he has to do. Still, a wave of relief crashed down over him, at this point, urging him to stand down, to relax and step away. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He didn’t register how Tsu laid eyes on him, seeing the state he was in, but he did register the rage, explosive and violent as it was, making everything that had happened before pale in comparison. The aggression he had met the spirit with magnifying tenfold. Everything that came after was a mess of teeth, Tsukiko moving so fast that Samael barely had a chance to realize what was happening. It was a mess of claws and teeth, fultile struggles and savage ruthlessness.

Again, the scream of the spirit tore at Samael, in the same way it had before, like claws, yet it ended more abruptly, cut off by a whimper, and then silence. A silence that was everything except physical. It was only now Samael realized how oppresive the presence of the spirit had been for him, how massive it had been, feeling so physical, even when it wasn’t. And now, with that pressence gone, the warehouse building felt emptier than before. Its silence echoing off the walls.
And it made Samael collapse in on himself, just a little. His shoulders slumped and knees buckled a little underneath him, as if gravity’s pull on him became harder to resist. Perhaps he would’ve given in right then and there, falling onto the ground when he could no longer find the energy to keep himself upright. But he didn’t.

When finally, the werewolf turned his head to look at Sam, the dullahan stood a little taller, despite his sorry state, not wanting injuries to get the better of him.
“You ok?”, came the question, panting, laced with a snarl, the echo of Tsu’s state of mind. Yet the dullahan heard the concern as well, beneath it all, beneath the rage and the effort to get back to himself. Samael knew that now, even more so than before, it was important that his friend found some kind of calm, something to counter every thought and instinct that would just push him further away from himself.
And even if the dullahan perhaps wasn’t the best for the job, he had to try.
Keeping his movements slow, he looked down at the piece of metal embedded in his side, the metal half covered in tar-like blood, sticking to every surface it came in contact with. The blood didn’t behave as it should, seeming like it was coagulating already, even if it wasn’t. If one were to touch it, it would be a strangely warm liquid, sickly almost, feeling more like some kind of oil than anything remotely close to blood.
It was an ugly wound, really, unsightly by nature.
However, the pipe didn’t seem to have hit anything important, nor had it gone all the way through, lacking the momentum to do so. It would scar, yes, but not much more.

When the dullahan finished his assessment of wounds and indented bones, he returned his gaze to Tsukiko.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Going to get some new scars, but that’ll hopefully be all” He said, deciding against shrugging, “it takes a bit more than that to get rid of me.”
While still being honest, Samael hopes that wouldn’t Tsu worry, knowing that it wouldn’t help him in the slightest.
He still had questions he wanted to ask the other, like why he had come back after so long, but knew that not only was Tsu not in a state to answer those questions, it also wasn’t the best place to ask. Both of them were injured, no matter how much either would try to gloss over it, and quite frankly, the here and now wounds that Tsu has sustained, seemed a fair deal more important than other whys and hows.

“What about you?”, Samael asked, concern tainting his voice as he looked over the werewolf, noting where his fur was soaked and matted, “it really had a go at you, so... how do you feel? Are you alright?”

[tsukikoko]

Tsu's golden, animal eyes continued to stare at Samael. His nostrils flared, his muzzle crinkled, red pounded a furious rhythm behind his eyes every second he looked at the dullahan's injuries. He was riding a dangerous edge, but wrestling the anger back to a controllable place was a difficult thing, with the remnants of battle-derived adrenaline and fury still thrumming in his veins.

Yet, with a slow inhale, the wolfbeast closed his eyes and as he exhaled, reformed in a smaller, far more human shape - though a number of wolven features still remained, distorting his ears, teeth, eyes and showing in the claws at his fingertips. Reverting was dangerous in an of itself; in his human forms he could sustain and deal with far less damage than his war form, an uncontrolled shift from falling unconscious could outright kill him in the right circumstances. But though the minotaurs horns and the spirit's spears had sunk deep, even though blood dripped through the fur coating his bare chested body and pooled on the ground beneath him, Tsukiko stood tall, put a hand behind his head and smiled.
"Long time no see Sam! Hope that entrance was suitably last minute and epic for you." A chuckle, followed by a slight cough. Without the pulsing rage of his most violent form to smother it, the pain was starting to make itself known. Christ that stung. But he could feel the wounds sealing in that itchy, creeping manner of rapid regeneration, the bleeding would stop in a few minutes. "Yeah, got a few solid hits on me didn't he?" The werewolf rolled his tattoed shoulder, approaching the downed minotaur. "I'll be fine though, nothing a good bit of food and some rest won't sort out."

Kneeling down beside the blend of bull and man, Tsu put a hand on it's chest, patting it affectionately. He spoke gently to it, the last of his earlier anger draining away. It had been the spirit, not the minotaur, who was to blame.
"Hey big fella. Sorry I had to rough you up so much, don't try to move, ok?" At the touch and deep, soothing voice, the minotaur cracked open one eye, staring blearily up at the werewolf. A low, sad moan began to rumble out of the super's lips. Tsu's eyes crinkled with empathy, the poor thing looked so guilty and hurt. He rubbed the minotaur's chest again. "We'll get you sorted, don't worry about it, you're alright. How's a friendly wrestle and a drink sound when you're fit again?" The question managed to draw what he thought was a tiny smile from the minotaur, but admittedly it was harder to tell on a non-human face. Tsu looked over his shoulder at Samael, "Hey Sam, mind calling in the guys from outside? Haven't got a radio on me." He shrugged a little, semi-gesturing to his lack of a shirt and jacket (which were still lying outside where he had thrown them, most likely). "Also, we need to catch up after this, it's been far, far too long."

[NightshadeVII]

It took a little while for Tsukiko to return to a more humanoid shape. It was still a sight to behold, and might be unsettling for some, covered in fur with human features just distorted enough, still, Samael could calm down a little seeing the change. Even if it mean that the werewolf’s wounds became more obvious now, the sound of blood falling to the floor barely audible now.
But, in a familiar Tsu fashion, the werewolf smiled, hand behind his head, as he drew breath to speak; "Long time no see Sam! Hope that entrance was suitably last minute and epic for you."
Again Samael uttered that weird, hoarse wheeze, that was meant to be laughter, before he nodded.
“You never disappoint, Tsu”, He said, but then continued, on afterthought, comfortable with throwing a joke back, “though, maybe next time, you should get some fireworks? Just to be on the safe side.”
The dullahan wasn’t surprised when Tsukiko brushed off the wounds with some measure casual acceptance, despite their severity. The werewolf’s healing was impressive, or at least that was how Samael remembered it. Dryly, Samael reminded himself of the healing process he had to go through for his little pipe incident, as well as the dented ribs, knowing it would be more than a little tedious.

For a moment the dullahan just watched as Tsu spoke to the Minotaur, his tone soft, eyes empathetic. Samael didn’t doubt that he himself would’ve smiled if he could, relived, if not even happy, to see Tsukiko treating the supernatural so gently. While not unempathetic himself, Sam couldn’t help but admire the empathy of others. Deep down he considered it rare even if he knew it wasn’t, a force of habit when the purpose behind his existence was to dwell on death, understanding how cruel it could be on an almost shared, personal level. And yet, moments like these, where he could experience the kindness of others brought him back, reminding him that there was more to this life than decay. He still kept his distance, not because of how he had hurt the creature, but instead worried that his own nature, which was more similar to the spirit that had possessed it than Tsu’s, might upset it again.

As Tsukiko mentioned calling in the other agents present, Samael nodded, more of a reflex than anything. In all honesty, he had almost forgotten that the other agents where there. But at the mention of catching up, Samael was quick to reply.
“I’d like that...”, was his answer, words softer now that things had calmed down, “you’re right. I’m sure there’s a lot to talk about.”
Then with quick “be back in a sec”, Samael walked out of the building, noticing that he had to put a bit more effort behind opening the door leading out this time around, and still he chose to act like nothing happened. The moment he was out of the warehouse, the agents that had been waiting outside, looked up, multiple different eyes fixating on the dullahan, as if they hoped his mere presence might give them answers. Samael, unused to this kind of attention, shifted his weight from one foot to another.
“Alright, it’s over.” Samael said, “the spirit is taken care of and the Minotaur has been calmed down... Where’s the medic?”.
He scanned quickly across the gathered agents, seeing one rise and approach him quickly. Immediately, she noticed the metal pipe embedded in the dullahan’s side, her eyes widening and lips parting in surprise, perhaps wondering why he didn’t seem to be in too much pain. Of course, it did hurt, but there was more important things to do. Still the medic reached for the supplies she carried with her, and Samael quickly caught a glimpse of a white roll of gauze emerging. Almost immediately, he wanted to back away, an instinct telling him to avoid attention, more than any conscious thought ever did. But he stopped himself before he could take even a single step.
“No. Not me.” Samael held up a gloved hand, stopping the medic mid-movement, causing confusion, “I appreciate it though, thank you... but it’s the Minotaur, it needs your help more than me.”

As understanding dawned in the medic’s eyes, she nodded, her entire expression changing, morphing into something more steadfast and determined, brows furrowed and lips pressed together again. Still she headed on into the warehouse, where Tsukiko and the Minotaur were waiting, followed closely by the other agents on site.
Except for Samael. Unlike the others the dullahan waited outside for a little bit, watching the door close behind the others, picking up on the sounds of beginning conversation, almost thankful that he wasn’t there to be part of them. Then, slowly, he walked over to the clothes lying on the ground, assuming this was what Tsu has tossed in his hurry to shift and get into the werehouse. Careful not to get any of his tar-like blood on it, Samael picked up the pieces of cloth, unable to feel their texture through his gloves and due to a general lack of feeling in his hands. Lastly, he checked to see if anything had been left behind. Satisfied when he found nothing, he headed back into the warehouse, hoping that the many new faces wouldn’t stress the already exhausted Minotaur.

[tsukikoko]

By the time Samael returned to the warehouse, Tsu was leant against the wall closest to the doors. Casual, his arms folded lightly across his chest. If it hadn't been for the blood and still-sealing wounds, the furred man would have looked the spitting image of relaxation. His eyes watched over the minotaur's treatment; curious, eager to see that the other super would be alright. But there was an alertness too. Something primed and hard to define, not present at all in the soft, relaxed lines of his body, but focused entirely in his eyes. As though at any moment that casual, light atmosphere could shatter in a blur of fur and energy, should he need to intervene again. Not that Tsu thought the minotaur would deliberately hurt anyone anymore, he'd seen enough in its eyes to know that much, but the old werewolf had seen more than one large super lash out while in pain - he didn't want any of the agent's getting caught in the crossfire.

Still, when he heard the door opening, Tsu looked over and raised on hand in a friendly wave. He beckoned Samael over, pushing away from the wall to face the dulluhan more directly.
"Ah brilliant, my clothes!" He said, spotting the bundle of material in Sam's hands. "I lose more jackets that way."
Holding his hands out, Tsu took the jacket and shirt, but made no effort to put them on yet, instead crouching to place the pile nearby. Not only was he covered in blood, those particular clothes had been rather tight fitting. If he tried to put them on in his current form he'd be liable to tear them. Instead, he turned his attention to his companion, giving him a quick once-over.
"Alright then bro, what're we doing for your wounds? Now, I know you don't like a fuss, but that-" He pointed at the pipe still sticking out of the dulluhan's side, "-cannot be allowed to stay there. Not to mention the rest of you." Tsu then made a sweeping gesture over the rest of his friend's body, which was riddled with injuries of varying degrees. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure you were alright? Just tell me what we need to do."
With that, the werewolf put a hand on his hip and looked down at Samael. Though there was a kind smile on his face, there was an expression flickering across the silvering man's face that said he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

[NightshadeVII]

Samael would have frowned at the sight of Tsukiko’s wounds, if he could. A part of him felt like he had failed, seeing how his friend had gotten wounded and the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop it, despite what he was and what he had been. If only he had managed to deal with the Minotaur sooner, more quickly and efficiently. But then, it would have gotten more hurt than it already was. The innocent creature didn’t deserve to suffer.
Still, as the dullahan noticed how Tsukiko’s eyes fixed on the medics and the Minotaur, he followed the werewolf’s gaze, barely turning his head in the process. He recognized the look in Tsu’s eyes, having seen it many times before. He was planning ahead, wondering what to do, while still being so entirely present in the moment that he would be ready to react in an instant. Perhaps it was something that came with practice.

The werewolf accepted his clothes with characteristic enthusiam, placing it down on the ground before he looked the dullahan over, skeptical, assessing. Falling back on unconscious habit, Samael straightened his back just a little. He had taken wounds much worse than these and knew that they would heal, so he didn’t place much value in them. Too used to being a piece in a puzzle.
But the werewolf didn’t see him like that, probably never had. Tsukiko’s assessment was strikingly accurate, the dullahan didn’t want the attention, if he could avoid it, knowing there were others who needed medical attention before him.

Samael quickly looked down at himself, before looking back at Tsukiko.
“Ah, damn, I was hoping you’d like it.”, the dullahan said, referring to the piece of pipe embedded in his side, dripping tar, “I’m trying something new.”
The dullahan had a way of delivering jokes in such a flat, unemotional tone, that almost made it hard to realize that he was in fact joking. Every word sounded serious, weighted like it was something important, when in reality, it was something improbable or ridiculous. Something he would have said with a glint in his eyes... if he had eyes. Strangely enough, this kind of humor was rarely seen around anyone Samael wasn’t completely comfortable with. Instead he tended to fall back on exaggerated, sarcastic jokes that he didn’t really feel for, when in those situations.

“In all seriousness though, this probably needs stitching.” Samael nodded at the piping in his side, “everything else is mostly scrapes and a few broken ribs, so that should be fine.”
Tsukiko was right, Samael didn’t enjoy making a fuss of himself, to the point where one might think he’d have preferred to be entirely invisible, which wasn’t far from the truth. But he also knew the werewolf well enough that even if he said he didn’t need any kind of treatment, Tsukiko would make sure he got it anyway. The man was persuasive, had to give him that.

“I think we both need a some fixing, Tsu.”, said Samael, his tone more gentle now, calm, laced with concern for his friend that he didn’t try to hide, “you should probably get those chest wounds looked at first thing...”

[tsukikoko]

"Hmmm..." Tsukiko hummed under his breath, regarding the dulluhan again, before shaking his head. "No, sorry bro, I don't think the colour suits you. A plank of wood maybe, but the pipe just clashes with the whole ensemble."
A grin, the kind that implied the two supers had regularly been in such states of laissez faire injury before. Then Tsu gestured a hand at his own chest, barely giving the oozing wounds a glance.
"Oh, these? You should know me Sam, they'll be right as rain in a few hours. He didn't hit anything major."

Though, seeing as his friend seemed rather concerned for his welfare, the old werewolf held both hands up in a pacifying gesture.
"How about this, you let me sort that pipe out," he pointed to Samael's rather blatant injury, "-and I'll get the chest looked at. Then, we go out for drinks or something, catch up on everything I've missed in the world of my bro, Sam." One large hand struck out in the dulluhan's direction, a clear offer to shake hands. "Deal?"
The familiar lopsided smile was back, lighting up Tsu's face and giving him a friendly, approachable look, despite everything.

[NightshadeVII]

As the two fell back on familiar joking, Samael gave his signature wheezing laughter-failure. Indeed the two of them had been in similar states, if not even worse, before. The standards for their assignments together had been set, so wouldn’t it just be lousy if they didn’t live up to it? A pipe to the side was acceptable, but far from the worst injury the dullahan had endured, it took quite a bit more to get to that level. But perhaps both he and Tsukiko were both equally reckless when it came to these situations. Who knew?
At least the werewolf had his accelerated healing, which was something that made the dullahan relax just a little.

Then after a little while of silence, Tsu came with a proposition, that would probably work for both of them. Deep down the dullahan knew that he wouldn’t really have to worry about the werewolf’s wounds, unless what had caused them had been made of silver. Tsukiko had sustained worse injuries, however, this was their first time seeing each other in years, and the dullahan had managed to let go of more old habits since they last saw each other. Maybe it was only a few, but he was beginning to relax in worries he hadn’t thought much about before. Worries for people he considered friends had begun to become louder, more prominent.
Samael gave the werewolf a long hard look, appearing skeptical or well, at least he tried to. Still he recognized Tsu’s lopsided grin, always so friendly. It didn’t leave much room for arguments.
“... Deal.” The dullahan finale gave in, shaking hands with Tsu.

When the werewolf seemed ready, Samael would begin walking with him, towards one of the medics. Then he remembered something, that he probably needed to make very clear between them, before anything else.
“But don’t think you’ll be the only one doing the questioning,”, Samael said, attempting to sound stern, failing to do so, “I’m curious as to what you’ve been up to as well, Tsu. I’m sure you have plenty of stories to tell.”

[tsukikoko]

Tsu's grin widened and a bark of laughter peeled from his lips.
"I could keep up conversation for hours with the stories I've got for you bro." Just as they reached the medics, he gave the dullahan a quick thumbs up. "Don't worry though, I'll tell you all about it - where I've been and what kept me out of contact. For now though-" The werewolf spread his arms wide, exposing his muscular, brutalised chest to the medical team. "-time to keep up my end of the deal."

It was a good three hours before either agent was released back out into the wilds of Wathais streets. Treated, taken back to the WDSA, cleaned up as best they could be, with a new set of clothes issued (Tsu always had a few spares kicking around and it seemed his four year absence hadn't diminished his reputation of losing clothing while on the job) and reports filled out. Tsu's explanation had been very sympathetic towards the minotaur, explaining in detail the effects and difficulties of such a powerful possession. He also made a few notes detailing suggestions to aid with the super's recovery, both in terms of physical and mental well-being. The aftereffects of a possession like that could be long-lasting and leave the minotaur open for a secondary spiritual attack of a similar, or more serious, vein.

The werewolf tracked down Samael as soon as their respective reports of the event had been written, striding through the corridors with his hands casually resting inside the pockets of a large, grey hoodie. His pace was relaxed, but there was a focus and intent to his gaze, as though tracking an invisible and very interesting trail. His friend's familiar form came into view around a corner and the tall man greeted him with another warm smile as he closed the distance. With his massive frame dwarfing the dullahan's as he came up alongside, Tsu clapped his companion on the shoulder.
"Right, time for a drink and a catch up, am I right? We could hit up a bar, orrrr..." The silvering werewolf's smile curved into one that was decidedly wolfish and enthusiastic. He waved his arm in the vague direction of the car park. "-I've got beers in the truck, we could take a trip out to the beach, or up the mountain. Your call bro."

[NightshadeVII]

Samael had to admit that he was relieved to see that the werewolf didn’t try to brush off the help of the medics. Sure Tsu had his healing, but letting professionals assess the damage never hurt. Still he shook his head, a good natured movement, seeing that Tsu still seemed to be very much the same.
“I’m sure you do, chatterbox.”, joked the dullahan, as medics began to treat his wounds as well.

It took a few hours before everything was settled. The Minotaur had been taken care of fairly quickly, but gently still. Victims of possessions such as these often felt like they were weak afterwards, which was in many ways a horrible feeling to sit with. So the faster the issue could be addressed the better.
Samael himself had also been taken care of and patched up as well as he could be. Wounds had been stitched and bandaged with an effectiveness that could only be described as impressive and he had been supplied with another hoodie, per his request. No matter how many times he was cared for by medics, he could never shake the feeling of being stiff and awkward, he didn’t know what to do with himself, and it felt wrong for him to just sit there and be cared for. Old perceptions of himself resurfaced so quickly, and he had to concentrate to avoid getting restless.

But now all that had been taken care of, reports had been written and things were seemingly back to normal.
But the peace didn’t last long. Silence was broken by a companionable clap on the shoulder and a cheerful greeting. Like when first time he had met Tsu, the dullahan wondered if the werewolf ever stopped smiling or if that grin was just a constant. However, now the wonder was arguably more friendly than the first time they had met. He listened to the other speak, quiet and attentive, knowing that Tsu wouldn’t mind that he didn’t say much. The werewolf had quickly accepted Samael’s silence, which was something he appreciated

“Sounds good.” Said Samael then, sounding relaxed in a way that few people actually heard him be.
“The beach would be nice, I haven’t been there in ages.” He turned to look at the werewolf then, tilting his head a little, “you’re all ready to go as well, huh?”