Masks Don't Prevent Scars

Hunting Grounds

Chapter 1

A new moon, the hopeful way to say darkness, swaddled the night. Still, they met. They had to meet, for The Crow, as when the mask donned their face they and were only The Crow, had to establish their dominance once again. They collected other hunters, whose blood, just like theirs, simmered under the surface. At a simple miscount, a wrong step, any hunter could boil over and advance the unseen plague hunters were made to stop. The Crow made sure that they knew someone would stop any hunters who misstepped. That a person, if they could be called one at this point, could stop them.

The Crow stepped into the ring, remnants of their humanity behind them. There wasn't time for that, there was no time for hesitation. Empty shops surrounded the circle they used as a fighting ring, blood of the beast laid down to lure other hunters in, shielding them from any mundane humans lost enough to wander in the square as the dark swallowed the earliest hour of morning.

Readying their blade, The Crow ignored their eyes. Sense suited one far better when each of one's possible opponents could trick simple human senses. The Crow's own blood called out for it's hunters, their body heating up in simple anticipation.

They ducked.

Instincts couldn't be ignored, not in a battle, not when they had to show hunters they couldn't run wild. They could simply run unchecked. True to The Crow's honed hunters intuition, an arrow whirred over their head. The Crow could tell pinpoint the culprit, warm body getting close enough to sense. The hunter walked leisurely, taking time. Not a fight, not right away. Not if The Crow wasn't at a disadvantage, given how the hunter relented with one missed shot.

"I hadn't figured the mythical Crow's Mask would literally be a large crow skull." The hunter noted out loud as she, for the voice sounded feminine and hunters created themselves with the influx of the beast's influence, approached the circle.

The Crow couldn't respond, their mask never allowed for it. The way their blood boiled in the presence of other hunters would make it far too difficult to keep a wagging tongue in line.

As the other hunter stepped into the light glow that the beast's blood emitted, The Crow noted her mask. White porcelain covered her entire face, stark against the void which made up the night. Red lined the eye holes light, as if smoke had pasted itself against the mask as it left her burning gaze. Not a mask The Crow was familiar with.

"Past the dead imagery, it's a bit adorable how expressive that mask seems to be." She slung her bow on her hip, hanging from a curious attachment to her belt. "I'm Marine Cullen. No gimmicks."

The Crow was still perplexed when Marine bowed to them. She obviously knew who they were, so why would she allow herself to be so vulnerable? Guns couldn't go deep into the taint hunters took on to allow them to curb the tide of beasts, so no one used them. Marine had nothing quick to use. Bows couldn't be maneuvered in close range, unless she had a hidden knife. The Crow allowed her to continue, certain that if a knife was pulled they'd be able to counter it.

"You need to stop," Marine spoke again, holstering her bow behind her and crossing her arms in front of her. "I don't know why you're killing innocent hunters, but you're a beast and you need to recognize that."

Which, was a ridiculous notion. The Crow was helping, hunters could easily get out of control. They knew, they felt the call. But they resisted, only when a hunter fought them first would they strike. Marine didn't know what she was talking about, she was new after all. So The Crow didn't fault her for her misjudgement, but the offense still rung.

Her lies couldn't be tolerated anymore.

Swinging her blade wide, they didn't aim for Marine. Just her general vicinity, to back her off. Then they placed more weight in their haunches, waiting for Marine's movement. They just needed her to fight long enough to know what moves she knew, where her weak points were.

Marine didn't allow for the learning opportunity, fleeing the scene quickly.

At least it wouldn't be long until she came back.