Snippet #2632429

Hunter kept out of the way of Craven's blade as he charged past. Craven's shoulder clipped Hunter, sending him sprawling from Craven.

[¡]Sloppy[/¡].

The gravel floor hurt as it dug into his skin and scraped and tore his skin. He pulled himself up, staring fiercely at Craven. Craven was still turning, readying himself for another attack. Hunter's sword was behind Craven, still holding the limp arm beneath it. Hunter sighed, if Ozpin got word of this, he'd flip. Sending him back into the training room. He had let himself get disarmed, caught off guard, and thrown across a rooftop.

Sloppy.

He held out his hand, thrusting his palm straight downwards. His sword twitched, before digging through the ground. Hunter spread the bone across the entire underside of the rooftop. Pulling a small Foundation-issued handgun from a side holster, he loaded and cocked it.

Now he was ready.

Now, enough blood flowed through and around him, either his own, Craven's, or perhaps the soldiers who laid as small remnants of shredded clothing; their flesh, blood, and bone turned into weapons for the gruesome fight taking place above the streets of the city.

Just as Hunter threw himself at Craven, blood circling around his entire body, building momentum and force, he heard an explosion down a few blocks. He ignored it. Leaping over Craven, Hunter spiked the blood downwards, watching it tear into his skin and run into his grotesque figure. Landing behind him, he fired several bullets into Craven's skull to seemingly little avail.

Keeping his ground, he kept out of reach before Craven got his chance to attack with his own blade.

Hunter stood still, playing the defensive.