Round 10

Jeane shook her head, a low growl rumbling in her chest. "No." The word came out sharp and final, cutting through the thick air of the alley like a blade. Her wings twitched reflexively, muscles tensing as she prepared herself for whatever came next.

Hera's hand was already moving to her belt, fingers closing around the handle of her makeshift club—a length of rebar bent into a crude but effective weapon. She'd used it before during their more... enthusiastic gatherings when things got out of hand, and now it felt like an extension of her own arm as she gripped it tightly.

Abby whimpered softly beside her, eyes wide with fear as she watched the scene unfolding just ahead. Hera couldn't blame her—the sight was enough to make even the most seasoned veteran's stomach turn. But they didn't have time for squeamishness now; there were lives at stake and a sisterhood to protect.

"Stay here," Hera hissed over her shoulder, not waiting for confirmation before stepping forward into view around the corner. The two attackers froze mid-motion, their heads snapping towards her with predatory speed. One was already moving before she could fully process what was happening—launching himself off his victim and straight at her with inhuman speed.

Hera had barely enough time to raise her makeshift weapon before he was on her, slamming into her chest with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs and send her sprawling backwards. The club went flying from her grasp as she hit the ground hard, her head bouncing off the concrete with a sickening crack.

For a moment, everything went blurry and distant—the sound of Abby screaming somewhere nearby barely registered over the roaring in Hera's ears as she fought to stay conscious. Through the haze, she saw the second attacker already moving towards her, his movements fluid and purposeful as he advanced on her prone form.

This wasn't going according to plan at all.