14. The Fast and the F.U.R.R.I.E.S. [part III]

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Banshee paced her breath and concentrated her full power to her legs. She was showing all her favorite tricks: from the sudden change of pace, to the jumping on fire escape ladders to jump on another building, turn around it and run on a parallel street. They weren't joking when they said they had closed down a huge zone. She had been running for minutes and hadn't seen a single car or pedestrian passing by along the road.

She turned back to check on the agents, and saw that they were keeping up, but not completely. She had gained some ground on them, and if she kept that speed, she'd maybe even had enough time and peace to cast a Displace spell to double back and go to help her colleagues.

The noise distracted her.

When she heard the first cracking noise, she thought one of them had a truly bad fall and broke a leg. But then, other cracking sounds followed, and that was too strange. She turned to watch, just before getting into an alley on her right.

And she wished she hadn't.

They were breaking their bones all right. But not because they had suddenly fallen one over the other in some kind of comic mess. They had started to change. Deeply. In fact, all the bones in their bodies have been broken and had instantly repaired themselves, as thick fur of various colors covered them, and their faces melted into long and ferine muzzles.

Finally, she understood the need for the seemingly eye candy suits: they were made of a material that could expand and adapt at their alternative form. They were now completely turned in a half-human half-beast form. They were at least two feet taller than before, and two feet larger for that matter

A tiger and a mountain lion. Their eyes shone, reflecting the city lights around them.

«Fucking hell! Werepeople!»

This time, Banshee felt the cold shivers of panic run up and down her spine like lightnings, with the same fastening effect.

Fly, she had to fly.

She tried to focus enough to pick at the fluxes around her feet, and after three or four steps she felt the power lifting her upwards

She felt a sudden tug at her stomach, and the magic around her feet suddenly dissipated. She fell on the ground hard, relying only on her instincts to roll on a side, spring up with a sharp tension of her abs and start running again. A sharp look behind her showed the tiger holding something that look like a wand in her hand.

The situation was grim. Very grim. The werepeople were rapidly gaining ground on her, prompted by their now superior muscular prowess.

She couldn't keep up for long.

She reached in her pocket and picked out her phone.

Luckily, she didn't have any fast calls but that one.

«I hope that "direst emergency" had been a well understood yardstick when I gave you this number, Banshee, because if this call has anything to do with some kind of...» after six, infinite rings, Garaham's sleep-slurred voices answered the phone.

«I'm running from a pack o' werepeople who'll arrest me ass if they get me! I don't know if that qualifies in yer range o' "direst emergencies" but it surely fucking does in mine!» she screamed in the phone. Some seconds of silence followed. She was starting to feel the steps behind her closing in

«Where are you.» Garaham's voice turned into a serious tone, as cool as ice.

«I'm going to run towards Humboldt, but there's police all around the streets o' this block!»

Some other seconds of silence. She could feel the stomping behind her getting louder, and the faint panting of the werepeople way too close to her neck. Her legs were starting to hurt and her lungs weren't happy either.

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