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Not a Matter of Jekyll. Only Hyde (Training/Closed)

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The streets were much too labyrinthine, especially when the snow fell like it was on this night. With time away from people, having escaped the therapy the school was supposed to provide through it's disciplining combat training and the channel of blood-lust in it's Grimm, Errante's problems had skyrocketed once more. His brain had never been functioning at it's fullest capacity, such was for certain, but he had reached a newfound level of confusion. Even wandering from street to street wrought him with bouts of nausea, turning usually thrice before finally realizing where he was going.

Not that he usually had any direction to begin with. He'd toss himself north, south, east and west. Looking for matters of brutal intrigue. Matters which he could break, or even more interesting to him were the ones in which he couldn't break. But that was beside the point.

In order to overcome misplacing himself again he had taken to the rooftops, with his strength leaping from place to place was no struggle. Despite the vastness of the great gaps the boy's extreme limb length was certainly coming in handy, grasping gutters and clinging to ledges. As a result he found himself growing only stronger, he had shrugged off the sluggishness which had been forced upon him both by the confines of prison and that school's sluggish timetable. Classes of strategies, histories and Grimm studies were totally wasted on him.

Standing atop a family house, it's chimney was smoking. Touching it almost burnt his fingertips. Not that he thought further than the chimney hurting him, far be it from him to understand that beneath there was a dust powered furnace in a house belonging to a family of four. Far be it from him to understand that though, let alone the complexities and importance of their lives.

With a slash he brought the chimney down, with a second he blew bricks directly down into the embers; rupturing forth an inferno. What happened next took only ten seconds. There was an explosion in the house's basement, the lights of the surrounding house burst on. There was at least one scream, perhaps one of pain or maybe simply one of fear.

What happened on the eleventh second was unexpected. There was another blade, not Errante's own, heading directly toward him. Through the smog from the devastated chimney came a curved blade. Lunging at him was a blade shaped almost like a banana. It hit thick leather, the pressing of the blade bruising a line down the left of his ribs while simultaneously disrupting his stance. Errante was thrown from the roof, landing in the snow bellow. Something ached in his back, he had landed on a rock. How lucky.

A thick brown boot seemed to almost emerge from the clouds and shoot down onto his chest. Frankly the weight was ridiculous, it almost made it feel as though that rock was... oh.

It wasn't a rock, caltrop, it wasn't just one either. Errante's grip had been strong however. Ragnarok in hand he swung at the heavy foot, aiming to cleave the leg off through pure blunt trauma. It did shift, the body attached knocked... but not removed. Errante's icy eyes caught the flash of aura on contact. Was this one he could break?

He rose slowly, no more than three spikes in his back. Puncturing his dress and now restricting his movement. Through his poorly cut bangs he could see the one who had hit him... twice, did the catldrops count as a third time? Maybe one time for each. Five then.

A person bound in brown leather stood in the light of the burning building. Garbed almost entirely in leather, a helmet like the head of an ant atop their head. Rather than two arms they had five... though there was space for there to symmetrically be a sixth... had they lost one? Each of the five held a strange curved blade.

"...Ant... person?" Errante frowned, perplexed by their anatomy.

As the faunus ran forward Errante's semblance flared, he was within ten meters. They would see everything they feared in the cannibal... yet despite the being did not freeze. He did not pause. He rushed forward, three swords swung for Errante. The lower two were blocked by Errante's sword... the third caught his forehead. Aura clashed with it, enough removed already that the madman could practically taste the blade's sharpness.

Without hesitating Errante flung his wielding hand forward, the blade bludgeoned against the ant's thick leather chest-plate. He followed it, grasping at the head, only for the two armed side thrusting both it's swords directly into Errante's left. Aura was on the verge of breaking, he recalled his intimidation tactic. The being's head still in his hand he forcefully pulled backward. With a loud tearing of leather the ant's head came free... revealing that of a woman.

The two staggered backward from each other, Errante's fierce grasp had bruised a point in her skull to near bleeding. Red hair, a strong jaw... but what got Errante's attention most was the lack of what drew a majority of his interest in normal people. No eyes. She was blind. No wonder his tactic hadn't worked. He had dealt with this rarely, often lost to this. Had to run from this. But he had an idea.

He threw the mask to the woman, running forward after it. Five arms pierced straight through the leather. Errante leapt, using the skills he had gained on the rooftops. With a swing of Ragnarok she was knocked to the ground. Aura broken.

Now he could hear sirens, police and ambulances for certain. He had waited to long. The woman turned to her back, five arms flailing. Ragnarok was thrown into her side, the pointed tip weighing her to the ground.

He had to go, he knew that. Police were weak, but after this many injuries so was he. But curiosity would not wait. He leaned on Ragnarok, "What... are you? Are you an ant? You have a lot of hair for an ant."

"I-I-I am no ant. I am a Huntress!" All five swords found their mark, Errante's aura broke under the pressure, but the movement lurched the sword deeper and further up the woman's body. Breaking a rib past the one it already had.

Errante landed in the snow, "A Huntress? But... I'm not grimm? Why did you even try then?"

"A-A Hu-hu-hunter defends those who need defending. The threat m-matters not." She spat.

Errante frowned, giggling slightly. "A Hunter who hunts those hunting... that sounds fun... w-why couldn't they teach me that. I might have stayed."

There was a car, a fire engine. Errante lurched to his feet, he stumbled, pulled Ragnarok from the grasp of her chest. She screamed... a very lively scream however. Almost tumbling with every step, he hit a wall. He followed it, found a dustbin, and clambered in. His blood in the snow washed away by the fire engine's jets of water as they tried to save the house. The police wouldn't find him. But the hunter of hunters would live. The worth of his head would rise, and with all that came his skill would. Just as it had this time.

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