The quiet of the hunting grounds could often be very unsettling. Nothing but the skittering claws from rats and the creak and groan of old metal. Broken headlights stare out from jutting beams of steel and metal, husks of what was once great and might have ruled the roads in their heyday. None of that mattered to the furry creature that prowled through the junkyard. Eyes glow and he’s firmly on the lookout. Claws drag against the dark dirt, occasionally kicking the stray nut or bolt aside and leaving a pause of silence in the air.
This was the first time Chuck had come to this junkyard, seeking out a meal and trying to find maybe a few spare pieces to work on that crumpled old building that was his home. It’d be nice to have someplace actually nice to live. Every click of claws sends the bat lunging but it’s always a miss and that alone is enough to frustrate him.
Honestly, all the focus is on hunting, on tearing down a rat and swallowing the blood that was finally the prize for so much patience. A lovely idea but not one that would be realized if these little shits would just hold still! Another leap, another miss. The bat snarls in annoyance.
All senses are directed somewhere else that he fails to hear the click of something. It only registers as the sound of something firing gets a hold of his ears, forcing the bat to look up. There’s only a few seconds to see the net before the heavy weight lands directly on top of him, forcing a screech out of the creature.
Thrashing, unable to get anywhere, all the blond can do is watch as several people with way too calm demeanors and dark clothes seem to bleed out from the surroundings. Where... where had they come from. One of them, female, speaks calmly.
“The target has been caught.”
