Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-25582638-20190705005837

Upon entering the bay, the first thing Brunhilde took notice of was a vacant spot where her boat had been parked near their runaway boat. Empty bullet casings almost carpeted floor, remnants of a gunfight, along with clean gashes on the railings and crates. Brunhilde could only think of two outcomes: Hunters or some lowlives had stolen the boat, or the bodyguards had been pressed to leave the place. Either way, she didn’t see any bodies of her men. And if they were indeed alive, she didn’t appreciate being left without a messenger.

Brunhilde grasped her left shoulder, bleeding and steadily throbbing with pain as every second passed by. Red liquid dripped on the floor with soft plopping sounds. Flexing her left hand, she replaced the dagger with a pistol as she dismounted the giant ice king cobra. The rat had bitten her deeper than expected when her Aura was in the middle of regenerating. But with the drug still in her system, the Engelnacht heiress could tolerate the wound for now. As she slipped her finger onto the trigger, a firm hand grasped her right shoulder.

“You need to rest,” Wynston’s voice drifted to her ears as the giant construct vanished in a puff of mist. “I suggest you get into the boat. We can handle it from here.”

She looked at her older cousin’s snake mask, holding his gaze quietly. Then, her visor tilted down at the hand on her shoulder. “And wait like a damsel in distress while drinking tea with the Grimm and our enemies?”

"Enemies… You know we all have to work together." Wynston says, pointing his gun's muzzle at the Grimm rats on the verge of breaching the blue barrier. "... I didn't take you to act like a Bluthardt."

"I'm a practical woman. I use whatever I can for my convenience."

"Of course. But this is no time to banter. Get into the boat."

Huffing, Hilda shrugged off his hand and glanced at the figure of a certain white-haired man bending over the boat’s engine. Then at Hazel and the hobo man. And at the LMGs. "Well, if you insist..."

Depending on the environment, with cards in hand, Brunhilde could deal with people like Diaboli. People with narcissistic personality were more entertaining than actors on stage to a degree. The Stalker was still… she didn't know what to think about that woman. Nevertheless, that person became the catalyst of unease in the group. The hostility stunk like that of her rubbish cousins'.

Wynston squeezed the trigger, popping four rat heads at the same time with RIP bullets. Bit by bit, the Grimm rats- big and small- were retaliating full strength against the ice blockade as though the horde had decided to channel their force into a single funnel.

With her back turned on her cousin, Brunhilde boarded the boat and beelined for the LMG on the aft. That was when her ears picked up bone-chilling moans coming from the giant steel doors. In that instance, her vision swirled that she almost lost her balance. She recovered by shaking her head, leaning on the wall to steady herself. Unnerved, Brunhilde quickly grabbed a belt of ammunition lying on the floor and jammed it into the LMG.

Still regenerating her Aura, Brunhilde had no choice but to sit like a duck. She swiveled the gun, pointing it at the doors where the unsettling noises were coming from.