Miles Riverbend
Miles braced himself to roll aside as the hybrid charged at them. Monstrously inhuman, Miles found it incalculably disturbing. Obvious traces still spoke of its origin, a haggard prison uniform, a faded tattoo. Recalling how the scientist had offered to help Glendale with its overcrowding, Miles’ stomach dropped sick. Clearly it was once a man, but that was before some deranged mind had decided to infuse bits of metal to flesh, creating the current atrocity bearing down on them.
Head lulling wretchedly, it huffed and grunted, announcing raw fury as it barreling down the length of the hallway like a berserker. Practically trampling the rubble beneath, Miles felt the ground shake through his bones. He aimed for the tendons, knowing a full confrontation was hopeless at best. Touye intervened then, bursting out from the room he had been investigating. The cold snap of blades heralds his entrance, followed by a silver stream of whitest hair. With an arm span to wide to comfortably swing without touching the walls, the hybrid’s broadsword had to cut through reinforced cement to reach them. Even still, the blade sliced forwards effortlessly, like a hot knife through butter.
Miraculously, Touya succeeded in diverting its trajectory without being violently severed. Miles whistled in reply, taking the briefest moment to admire the therian’s strength and quality of arms. A normal sword would’ve shattered from such an impact, leaving its user invariably and horribly exposed. The respite lasted the whole of a second as cross bolts pierced the hybrid, impaling its rear.
John had recovered by then, narrowly avoiding the hammer blow that would’ve crushed him into a pulp. The Jaeger Guard loosed the entirety of his magazine for what effectively amounted to nothing, only merely turning the beast into a pin cushion. The man issued a harsh curse and proceeded to reload as Touya and Damea sought to combat the monster. It was unstoppable, as inured to the pain of its own flesh as it was to the agonies of others.
Iron forged metal clashed against steel with a deafening clang as Touya competed for dominance. The therian assaulted head-on. Propelled by his magic, he pushed forwards with all of his might, landing the twin blades against the edge of his opponent’s. Acting in perfect unison, the mercenary closed in whilst the hybrid was occupied, weapons dancing. Like a whirlwind of blades, Damea’s swords hit the monster again and again, tearing a multitude of deadly gashes over the hybrid’s body. Wide, red cuts ravished the monster, yet none of it seemed to matter.
Growing weary of the shaving, the monster swang its arm forth. Touya’s flying body was a silver blur past the corner of his eye as the therian lost his footing to overwhelming power. Not daring to take his focus away, Miles watched as a similar fate was dealt to the mercenary. The man’s tousled form was flung by the impact, likely resulting in more than a few broken bones. Miles winced on his behalf.
“Well, this is going wonderfully,” Miles remarked, not caring to mention the fact that he had done nothing significant to contribute to the fight so far. Given everything he had witnessed, the man seemed reluctant even to commit to a strike of any kind. Petty tricks were unlikely to work here, and no amount of air or water he could summon would even flinch the beast.
Salvation arrived in the unlikely form of Lieutenant Bastionne. Appearing at the stern of the hybrid, the ochre skinned Jaeger Guard scaled the back of the monster, using the bolts John had implanted for grip. In one fell swoop, he brought his sword down with both hands into the skull of the hybrid. Rewarded with a sharp crack, a black fluid like oil sprayed up, showering the Lieutenant with slick solutions. The hybrid released a cross between a human cry and guttural howl, choking on its own body fluids as blood leaked into its lungs.
Carried by the weight of Bastionne, it rolled to the ground, slumping over its knees. The Lieutenant hopped off the moment it ceased to move, looking darker than ever thanks to the thin film of liquids coating his uniform now.
“So good to see you again, Lieutenant,” Miles mocked. Still cautious of the hybrid, his green eyes glanced around warily. “Thought you ran away.”
“The Jaeger Guard never run,” Bastionne growled, wiping the muck from his face, “It’s not-”
“Yes, yes, it’s not honorable. You’re beginning to sound like a broken record,” interjected Miles. He offered a flippant wave in the direction of Bastionne who regarded the impertinent display with loathing.
“You’d do well to-“
Bastionne never got to finish his sentence. In one instance his top half vanished, tossed like a rag doll against a ruined slab of wall. Miles stared at Bastionne’s lower legs opened up like a tin can, gaping in shock.
“Incoming!” screamed John.
Heeding the warning, Miles dropped to the ground as something large scythed overhead. Air, wall, brick, metal, it hardly mattered what you were, the broadsword never stopped. The hammer head followed afterwards, chasing him eagerly. Matching Miles’ torso in size, it cracked the floor with the force of its impact, scattering dust and stone. Miles was up on his feet by then, backing off with a blast of air to evade the relentless wave of attacks.
“It’s not living and it’s not dead! How on Artamus are we meant to kill it if conventional magic and attacks don't work?” John yelled, incredulous.
Landing beside Touya, Miles stuck his cynical tongue out at the hybrid, "How should I know?! Maybe you can appeal to its better nature. Or maybe you can try healing it. Yea sure, that sounds like a great idea, Touya? Why don't you try that while we break away?"