Release the Wolf

Burning agony seized his whole body.

He choked on the flames of hell wrapping around his throat, curling his ruined hands into roaring sticks twisted up against bloody linoleum. A gurgling rattle squeezed his lungs, no comfort on the hard floor no matter how much he tried to writhe away from the pain, blood sputtering from his lips.

Oh God. Clenched his eyes shut on stinging tears and wrenched them open again, choking on air that could barely get past his tight throat in gasping whimpers, searching for something, anything. But he found only corpses.

And a crouching, maned figure holding a bloodied sword.

He tore free less on purpose and more by— by accident. For a good damn second he wasn't sure if he had lungs or they'd sizzled away. Runes burned up his arm, and god, he swore they seared his own skin like a brand as he slammed his fist into Hirano's Samurai's crotch.

Hope the bastard felt that till his wedding night.

He rolled away as Hirano stumbled back, ripping each sword out of his limbs. Would've cursed enough in three different languages to send the oni screaming back into the sea if he could've— "Augh—"

"What is it now?"

"Dammit is he okay or not? Ryu?"

"Stop asking me!"

"Just... fine." He felt his hands shaking, but they worked just fine tossing away a sword without a tremour. Distantly, he could feel his jaw aching, a hint of fur flickering in and out along his gauntlets. Tasted blood. Blood?

"At least you have determination." A glowing sword skewered him just above the core. "But it's only a delay."

He choked out a cough, a mask flickering in place of a fanged helmet and blood running down the blade. Could taste it. Teeth— lion's jaws opened, snapping for his throat—

Gripping the sword with one hand, he yanked it out, a burning beam flashing from the other and obliterating that haunting face. A child screamed in his ears, burning flesh charring his nose, the pathetic cries of a toddler choking off.

He couldn't breathe. Hissing between his teeth, choking back any sound, he reeled away, stumbling more than leaping back to give himself distance, the rifle in his hands too steady, his aim icily solid.

Until an axe sliced through it and swung solidly into Hirano, flinging him back.

Cat tail swishing behind her, pointed ears high on her glowing helmet, Twelve snatched at his hip faster than he could twitch away, catching the flag and snapping it off.

"Dammit!" He needed that. A snarl shoved out before he could choke it back, and his teeth itched. Could taste blood. He lunged forward to sink fangs into her throat—

A kick to the face snapped him back into sickening clarity.

Didn't have bloody fangs in a Samurai. And he sure as hell didn't want to bury them in anyone's throat. He shook his head as he reeled back, distantly aware of pressing a hand into his face, a growl throbbing in his chest, despite his efforts to pull it back.

Something... something wasn't right here.

"Gaijin—"

"I'm turning back."

"—take your Samurai down a notch."

"No," he snapped, Ariake's declaration sending a bolt of ice through the prickling clawing its thorned way up his spine and nearly choking off his tight voice. "What the hell do you think... you're doing? Take the—"

A shard slammed through Twelve's head just as another yanked his hand to the side, a burning tingle bursting through it and lighting it on fire.

"No, he's right. Continue with the flag. I'll go back."

His blackened, burned, bloodied hand.

"I can go into Ki—"

"So can I. Now—"

Everyone spoke over each other, the shattering crunch of a sword driving into solid glimmer ringing in his ears.

"—Seika-chan. Hand it over."

"A Samurai doesn't surrender, senpai."

A spiked fist flashed through the hellscape of glitters and blinding sunlight reflected off blood-smeared white, smashing him in the face.

"Your team's too late."

"I see them. The sparkly one looks punchable."

"You're not willing to engage Ki, either."

Couldn't see. His arm wouldn't pull free, a lithe, shadowy shape prowling in the darkness past the sparks. A bony wolf with hungry glinting eyes. The feral rumble of a snarl warded it back and lifted the hairs bristling on the back of his neck, his foot cracking up under the chin of a blank, masked face.

"What about Bronnewhin?"

The name snapped painfully at some small strand of sanity, yanking it up out of the chaos, and his eyes snapped open, the sound of nails scraping against his helmet shrieking through his skull. Shite. Hallucinating hard. Too much damned glimmer. Hadn't been this bad in the simulator.

Shadow prowling, looming behind him. God. It was all wrong.

Could still taste blood, teeth a little too sharp clenched tight in his jaw. He looked up through his Samurai and the number of hostiles had multiplied, his throbbing hand pinned to a wall, Twelve cornered by Hirano with an axe in either hand and the flag fluttering at her hip.

A big Samurai with spiky gauntlets in front of him reeled back as he tore his hand loose and socked him. Gritting his teeth, swallowing the bitter metallic edge on his tongue, he rasped, "Bronnewhin is aware."

"Are you able to continue functioning at core-state four?"

"You sound like you're worried about me." He broke open a cracked smile that felt more like a grimace and hitched around the edges as shaking fingers that didn't feel like his locked tight. "Where's Takanashi?"

"I've been spotted," the bird himself snapped. "It's Umiko."

He swore, stuffing a growl back down where it belonged, summoning a pistol and shattering the other Samurai's neck with a burning shot that felt like it tore straight from his soul. "Just get back to base. Don't worry about me."

"Easy for you to say, idiot. If you go down, we lose points."

Good... good point. He was too busy dragging air into lungs flopping like dying fish, otherwise he would've agreed—couldn't afford to lose any points.

He turned his sights on Hirano, something red and hungry surging at the base of his animal brain. Hirano, the one who'd casually walked his way to first; always just a step ahead.

A blur of black and orange took the bastard out before he could pull the trigger.

What—?

"Get your flag!"

"I had him in my sights," he snarled as he leapt through utter pandemonium breaking out, eyes locking onto Twelve launching up, flag at her hip, and he dodged a swipe from another Samurai.

Drake laughed. "Early birdie gets the worm!"

Slamming into Twelve, he knocked her straight from the sky. The two of them crashed down, slamming into a shopfront, his hand snapping up and crunching flickering claw edges across her collarbone. He lunged before he could think, baring teeth that fused with the wolf to spear straight from his gums— from his helmet— from— where—

She twisted and he slammed into the ground, a choked grunt punched out of him. In retaliation, he crunched his elbow in her face and ripped the flag off her hip, kicking back with it clenched tight in his hand—

It fizzled through his fingers.

His lungs froze. Both of them stilled, staring at his open hand as the last motes winked away, claws flickering and spasming in and out of existence.

Her blank helmet snapped up, driving through the ice in his veins, but he wasn't in perfect sync. Wasn't fast enough.

"You gaijin bastard!" Her Samurai flashed, an axeblade cracking into the back of his gauntlet, her voice booming over the battle. "The flag was a fake! Someone else has it!"

She lunged, a dagger in her hand, and drove it in under his arm, cracking against the armour protecting his core. He heard the krang, the sound ringing through his coffin, his awareness caught flickering somewhere between coiled over his knees with hands digging into unyielding plastic and a bright light abruptly blooming to life from her Samurai.

"Damn— Matsuo's going to destroy his Samurai," Eden snapped as Lachlan swiped his arm down, tearing her hand away.

"Then shoot her with a fancy death ray."

"It could hit both of them, I can't get a clear—"

"NO!"

Not—her axe flicked around—damn—skimming off his shield—fast enough—and the other crunched into his shoulder. Blood, he could taste blood, Ariake's scream drilling through his skull. Lion fangs opened wide, fiery eyes locked on his.

"Gaijin, move!"

He threw himself back, heart roaring in his ears as the all-consuming crackle of a powering-up beam filled his awareness, burning light stabbing out. A shriek rang in his ears— the thin scream of a little girl, crying his name.

It wasn't real. Wasn't real.

But the glowing figure that burst out of the light was, jaws open wide, ghostly fur meshing with blank-masked suit, golden eyes burning and claws like knives slashing across armour.

"Dammit—"

"She got the damn flag— I need support!" Ariake's yell sent fire bolting down his spine.

The flag. He held a gun in his hand, and he shot at her pulsing heart, a snarl crawling out of his throat. The flag. Everything was bright enough to make his eyes water, but he could see just fine. He saw the masked face reel back, a ghostly tail snapping, flag in her hand.

He'd kill her.

Darkness loomed behind him, a wolf's jaws opened wide and dripping saliva, hot breath on the back of his neck. He struggled to breathe, distantly, but his body moved smoothly away from the slash of claws. Still too slow to avoid her cutting back, nicking him across the shoulder.

Still too slow.

He bared his own teeth, feeling the looming weight settle like a familiar coat driving him to snatch her wrist. Claws crunched into burning gold, Ariake yelling in his ear and Eden snapping back, Drake snarling over both of them. "Lachlan! Don't do it!"

He clawed for throttles he couldn't feel, squeezing tight with burning hands, twisting her arm. Blood on her face, red dripping from her claws, crimson on the shiny linoleum.

His yuurei snarled. He slammed his other arm up against her jaws and blasted Ki straight into her face at point-blank range, hands shaking on rubber grips. It wanted out. It wanted that black-suited throat.

And so did he.

His lips peeled away from too-sharp teeth as the masked face reeled back. His right hand clicked the throttle's safety, muscles taut as a wire.

"Lachlan!"

I'll gladly kill you again.

He shoved the throttle forward, and the glittering swirl blinded him.

His lungs seized.

Him.

Suit glowing with sizzling, pulsing lines, blood dripping from flickering fangs. His blood. Da and Ma's— Anna— James's—

A cold, quiet drip.

The snarl of an animal ripped up through his throat, burning past the bitter iron, and his hand cracked into crimson tile. Claws speared straight from the end of ruined fingers, a crackling field of wisping, ghostly grey searing up over raw flesh.

Knives tore straight from his jaw, and all he saw was red.

All he saw was red.

It burned, light searing down his arms, bright brands sizzling straight into the flesh, the Samurai twitching, flaring like a dying star, jaws stretched wide.

Instead of air, he caught a choking mouthful of light thick enough to drown him, clawing for purchase, fighting to pull together pieces of himself flying apart in a windstorm. Glowing hands flashed and flickered, gloves flashing to claws and gauntlets searing white, fangs snapping out in burning agony to tear around a throat, tasting blood thick on his tongue, crunching windpipe and sharp bone. Strands of gold, his spine torn out by the pins and snapped over his knees.

Every part of him cried out, pierced by the blazing sun, a sharp call drowned out by the pounding in his ears.

His eyes met hers past the teeth in her throat. They were blue.

And he shattered.

He screamed.