<i>Grisly</i>– there had to be a worse word than grisly.<br/><br/><i>Gruesome</i>– wolf barraged what appeared human, and started to shred. Clothes ripped with flesh and spongy tissue. Blood and fatty clumps flew, then the unmistakable sound of sinking canines, life’s desperate and last cry off the top of dying lungs. Black would follow, the body shutting down and releasing. Scarr had perished a few times, and sound had been the final undoing. Wetness, bubbles leaving mouth and nose, an absent heartbeat.<br/><br/><i>Ghastly</i>– because it was unthinkable when witnessed. Perceptions may’ve dulled due to cinematic exposures, but they definitely spiked when reality-induced. A blur overtook another with an automatic weapon. Female, by body shape and the way they flung. Jaws opened over skull, there was struggle, the mad sort before demise. Adrenaline gave muscles every stop, every bit of extra strength, to possibly escape and survive. Pushing through was all that mattered…pushing through was what she couldn’t do. Teeth punctured and head caved, brains oozed.<br/><br/>Scarr adjusted to her upright vantage, and fired. Friendly bullets rang through darkness, trying to shoot the wolves ripping into humans. Saving mortals was a second priority to killing supernatural, yet a priority nonetheless. Her sights met a beast on a white-suited man, reminiscent of the Colonel. It hooked into him, viscera gushed, and launched him against wood. The tree wailed from the force, bats that hadn’t already evacuated scattered. For whatever reason, no shots were taken by her, and the werewolves turned. Swallowed in night, the eighth was narrowly caught in the chest, and went down yowling. She lowered the rifle, slowly approaching carnage. Puddles rippled around her boots, blackish instead of crimson, and the moon’s bloated reflection floated ontop. There was not silence, her mics grasped shuffling, foliage crunching.<br/><br/>She knew where her people were via pings. Three scaled trees, climbing branches, and another approached opposite her. The unspoken plan was to close in, and turn wherever the werewolves huddled into a silver-strewn pit. They stilled, however, and that made tracking difficult. Her colleagues above would have to make view first, then react in a way she and the other could follow. The rifle rose, ready to be shot in a blink, and Scarr skulked. Her eyes ran to and fro, seeing, listening. The woods expanded out to finite green, absolutely motionless. Dark upon dark was near impossible to distinguish. Seconds morphed to minutes, the killer pace her hunters commenced began to slow. She stopped when needles rained down, but didn’t change stance. Still was shared, a nod without a nod, and the moving continued. One above certainly equipped heat-vision, and it would take moments for them to lock on.<br/><br/>When they did, the pings quickened the closer Scarr became. They waited, a small window for the rest to position. She switched from rifle to pistols, back to incendiary ammo, and tucked clips. She stopped several yards from what appeared a pile over the ground. Dry leaves turned into animal fur, and white flashed, their backs in her direction. This was them. The victorious group whom slain the other. Instead of continuing the fight, they decided to hide. She couldn’t tell if it was an act of strategy or passivity, perhaps both. Never, could she imagine werewolves committing other than violence in the face of their slayers. Her mind refused to deviate in that situation too.<br/><br/>Nets were shot from blasters, and the firing commenced half-a-second after. Made of chain, with a slight silver coating, the nets themselves would do little, and only hinder their movements at best. Two dropped, wide and well-aimed, and she squeezed triggers. It occurred to Scarr, faintly, that she was too close. Two or three paces from a beast would bring them face to face, and hand to hand with a wolf was a death sentence nearly guaranteed. But, there was no chance to retreat, only shoot and shoot – and say something. A something never said before. A something prohibited.<br/><br/>“Keep one alive. I need them.”