Flight School: Predator

Cracked Perfection

A/N: Brief warning before we begin, this chapter is not suited for those who are weak to graphic depictions of blood, depending on your imagination and my writing capability. If you are fazed by gore and/or knives and blades, you can refrain from reading this chapter and read the next chapter (an explanation of this one) instead :) Nevertheless, I have no faith in my writing abilities so maybe it won't be so bad after all :> hehe.

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There was a blade in the darkness.

More often than so, Luka Sullivan was accompanied by the light of his very own moon-one that was not afraid to be different in the face of an abyss so complete and undisturbed. At present however, all he could make out was a shape, a shadow, for the night was dark and any diurnal would have encountered complications of the same nature.

All he could rely on was the remaining senses that were, as of now, severely muted by exhaustion. The eagle and his Avian were confronted by the form, suddenly shapeless and dark, breathing only wisps of smoke that coiled and wrapped around his being.

Luka slashed his blade in a careless fashion-with the intention to wound-but it was within an instance that the shadow morphed, disappearing into the darkness that surrounded him entirely.

There was nothingness for a moment, save the beat of his heart and the shortness of his breath.

Then, it was behind him.

He felt the driving of a dagger that was aimed, almost certainly, at his neck. It was on instinct that he swerved, causing the tip of the sharpened blade to pierce, instead, the area above his heart. A hand reached up to stem the blood, pain clouding rational thoughts of identifying whether an artery was severed and if that was the case, which artery it was. Victoria fell from her perch, headfirst into the earth. Her wings flapped twice, fell. A muscle was torn. Luka stumbled, stepping away-other arm raised on guard.

When the difference between having his eyes closed and them, opened, was not so much distinguishable to the eagle, even a fool would have known the extent of trouble he was in.

He couldn't have seen the blow to his head that would disorient his senses and cause his vision to black out for a second long enough for the attacker to make a second attempt at murder, the glint of a blade under the light-how? When there was none?-before it came plunging, again, at his neck but the remaining arm had to be the sacrifice for he couldn't, not now, he couldn't, he couldn't die.

His instincts had led to conclusions regarding the attacker; who he was and what he was after. If this was Slayne's murderer, then a well-practiced cut of precision at his neck would be his very end.

At once, Luka had his left arm wrapped around it, anticipating the slash that would have otherwise killed him in an instant. It began to click.

"-the hell do you want?"

The hiss was low and pained, reigning in the urge to fall and clutch his entire arm that was bleeding. Blood spewed, coating his skin and dribbling onto the forest floor, crimson.

A thing on the floor convulsed as it flapped-like a butterfly with wings that were torn and tattered-towards the shape and lunged at flesh, a calve. Luka's Avian drew a chunk of it in her teeth, tearing through skin and muscle before a scream was heard and her wings were crushed under the attacker's feet.