After being attacked, professional call girl Raya and her sister Lana become a little less human. Though one sees this as a gift and an enhancement toward professional improvement, the other sees this as a curse.
On top of that, they're being toyed...
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Raya and Lana spun around to see numerous glowing, slit-pupiled yellow eyes of the ninja werepanthers fixed on them. The largest monstrosity waved friendly enough, but it's feline features were twisted into a mocking cat-grin.
The smallest of the werepanthers stood proudly at the right side of the biggest. She wouldn't have appeared intimidating were it not for the menacing sickle blade hanging from a long silver chain. It flashed a metallic glare of the moonlight as she grasped it tightly in her paws. At least fifteen other werepanthers flanked behind the main two, like the brave Scots following their mighty William Wallace.
"Shit. . ." Raya exclaimed, stunned as she studied them intensily - all wearing black ninja suits looking like night themselves.
Each werepanther brandished a various size and shape of weapon, the likes of which were even sharper than their claws. Fifteen against four...the outcome wasn't looking victorious for the werewolves and vampire tonight.
"Back again, fish-breath? Ready to scrap?" Lana, heated and unable to stop herself, taunted. hopping from foot to foot in an antsy dance, as if the ground burned her feet every time they made contact with the dirt.
"Of all the times-" Bruce began, but the little panther began fiercely swinging her barbaric sickle in wide circles above her head, mimicking a helicopter blade. Bruce swallowed his words and switched on the defense. He crouched as though he were a volleyball goalie, ready for action.
Raya's mind was working so fast it wasn't working at all. All of her thoughts jumbled, stumbling over themselves, which wasn't helpful at all. Bruce's hand wrapped around her arm, ready to guide her when the right moment came. The sickle swooshed around again and again, picking up speed while Raya thought of tactical strategies to fend off this many attackers. She felt as if she was in the eye of a nasty storm.
Lana's eyes were squinted, as though she were using all her might to will herself into the change. However, like Raya, she couldn't focus. It was middle school all over again when she was paired with her seventh grade crush and got a good ol' case of word constipation - could not utter a word to save her love life. Now, she was once again unable to perform.
The little werepanther let the sickle soar with cruel intentions; it came at them like a bullet, and its dangerous silver had the same objective: to end them. Without seconds to spare, Raya quickly hooked her hand around Lana's neck. As Bruce pulled Raya down Lana followed, both girls falling into an awkward, huddled crouch. The sickle swooshed over them.
Lana felt tiny cold droplets splatter her bare shoulder. When she looked up, the sickle blade was lodged in Ira's throat, blood squirted in violent streams.
"Nooooo!" the largest werepanther cried in a rough voice.
"Careful, if he gets it back, he won't miss again," Bruce muttered, eyeing his new found enemies.
Raya and Bruce gripped the chain. It burned their hands like all get out, but they yanked for all they were worth. Their skin literally began to smoke at the prolonged contact, causing their flesh to briefly fuse to the menacing metal.
