[Author's Notes]

Thanks to Chronic Guardian for the reviews!



Trashed Tussle

By: Paige K Duffy

A Trey + Whiskey One Shot Collection

[Twelve Shots of Summer: Seventh Soul 6/12]

[Parameters: "Battle Against a True Hero" + "Wading Through Garbage"]


Why Whiskey had chosen to take point on this patrol was beyond her. Yes, out of their current Regulator squad, she was the part-Supernatural with the highest stamina, so chasing down some Witch that had doped themselves up with the magical equivalent of steroids was suited to Whiskey's talents. Then again, some of the things that made her a capable tracker also could be a hinderance, especially when the fucking target decided it was a great idea to knock over a dumpster in the process of escaping.

Whiskey cleared most of the obstacle in one flying leap, but she still landed down on a particularly squishy bag in the process, and something wet and gross smelling soaked its way into her pantleg. Whiskey's sensitive nose curled further in disgust, but she forcibly held onto her balance and maintained her pursuit.

Okay, new goal: Get this fuckin' ovah with an' get yer ass back home so ya can shower.

Whiskey snarled, channeling whatever energy was inside her to further boost her physical capabilities, her fangs and ears lengthening in the process. The nasty smell clinging to ger clothes came into more focus, too, but Whiskey ignored it as she jumped towards the wall. With her Supernatural abilities, she was easily able to propel herself forward like some action stunt, bouncing between walls and giving her some height. A few seconds later, she had easily caught up with her Witch target, cutting off their exit from the alley by using her body as a blockade.

The Witch recognized the Regulator in their way was an issue, but that wasn't enough for them to back down. With neon yellow wisps of aura spilling off them, the Witch adjusted their stance into a full body tackle, increasing speed as they charged forward. Whiskey scoffed; while an attack like that might be trouble for a normal human, she was made of way sturdier stuff.

Whiskey dug in her heels and spread her arms, easily taking a substantial amount of force straight to the chest—enough to make her grunt, but nowhere near enough to wind her. "Sucks ta be ya!" Turning the Witch's force against them, Whiskey snatched them around the waist and easily spun them around several times before releasing. The Renegade flew through the air, landing back in the same pile of garbage they'd unleashed, and Whiskey charged after them, landing a flying kick in the gut with a sense of pure satisfaction and the sound of a few cracking bones.

The Witch let out a pained grunt, but they must've had some impressive pain tolerance going on, since they were able to snatch onto Whiskey's leg to drag her down. She slammed down onto the concrete, refuse starting to seep into her clothes, the scent more than enough to make her wanna vomit. The Renegade laughed. "Sucks to be who now, Regula—gghk!"

That time, the sound of pain wasn't the result of one of Whiskey's blows, but instead her Partner's. Trey had managed to catch up at some point, and his bat had easily broken the Witch's nose. Whiskey barked out her own laugh as she pulled her leg from the Witch's grip and got back on her feet. "Tha's what Ah fuckin' thought," she said, preening even though it was more of Trey's victory than hers. Whiskey went to offer Trey a high five, then remembered her garbage covered state and thought better of it. "Nice work, Trey. Ya've gotten a nasty swing on ya now."

"Yeah, well, I've had Drew help me with training and all that, you know." He looked down at the fallen Witch with a grimace. "Do you think I overdid it?"

Whiskey's ear twitched a bit as she listened in. Though now unconscious, the Witch was still alive. "Nah, nothin' ta worry about. It's not like yer the only one ta break some bones tonight. We didn' cause any kinda damage we don't got the meds and magic to fix back a' Azaline."

That pulled some of the worry off Trey's face, and he swung his bat back over his shoulder with all the finesse of an RPG character at the end of battle—though it was a bit of a mismatch with his slight frame. "I guess we should get them back before they wake up, huh?"

Knowing that, for all his capability, Trey was not built for lugging unconscious Supernaturals across the City, Whiskey easily hefted the downed Witch into a piggyback. And together, they set their course back towards the rest of their patrol squad.