Clash Beneath the Sky

The abandoned rooftop overlooked the sleeping city—still, quiet, and unaware of the storm about to break above it.

Raiven stood alone, hood up, hands in his pockets. He hadn't told anyone where he was going. But deep down, he knew someone would come.

And she did.

Senya stepped into view, her steps sharp, measured. Her eyes, glowing faintly under the moonlight, locked onto his.

"So, this is where you hide when you're not busy playing hero," she said, voice cool.

"I don't hide," Raiven replied calmly, not turning. "But you? You stalk people now?"

"You humiliated me."

"You humiliated yourself," he shot back, finally turning. "Maybe don't throw cheap shots if you can't take a return."

She snarled. "You think you're better than me?"

"No," he said. "I know I am."

And that was it.

Senya lunged forward, claws extending mid-air. Raiven dodged, side-stepping just enough to feel the wind of her strike brush past him.

She landed and spun, faster this time. A swipe aimed at his side. He blocked it with his forearm, sliding back from the force.

"You've been trained," she hissed.

"Every day since I was old enough to walk," Raiven replied, his eyes sharpening.

Senya dropped to all fours, her spine arching unnaturally as her limbs elongated. Fur crept up her arms in a shimmer of black ink, her pupils narrowing to slits. Her nails grew into claws, and her face twisted slightly—still human, but touched with the snarl of a predator.

A black panther.

Not fully shifted—just enough. Enough to strike hard, fast, and vanish like smoke.

Raiven didn't wait. He rushed forward, surprising her with a burst of speed. A flurry of blows followed—precise, disciplined. She blocked some, dodged others, but each time she retaliated, but Raiven was already moving, already reading her.

She leapt and twisted mid-air, aiming to slam him into the wall. He rolled underneath, kicked her legs out, and she hit the concrete.

Senya growled, pushing herself up. Her cheek was scraped, blood trailing. She spat; eyes filled with fury.

"You done?" Raiven asked.

"You wish," she muttered and charged again.

They clashed—claws versus fists, rage versus control.

Eventually, she began to slow. Her swings became wilder, less focused.

Raiven caught her wrist mid-strike and twisted it behind her back, slamming her down, pinning her.

"Enough!" he barked.

She struggled. "Kill me then!"

"I'm not your enemy!" he shouted. "I don't want to fight you, Senya!"

There was silence between them—only heavy breaths.

Then… Raiven let go and stepped back.

"Be my ally instead," he said. "We're stronger together."

Senya's expression darkened. For a moment, something in her eyes softened. She looked like she might actually consider it.

But then—her eyes narrowed. Her claws flared.

She lunged for his heart.

Raiven ducked.

In a blink, he spun, caught her wrist, and twisted her down again—faster, harder.

This time, he held her face to the ground.

"That," he said coldly, "was your only chance."

She didn't move.

"I don't hate you," he said after a beat. "But don't mistake kindness for weakness."

He let go once more—and walked away.

Senya stayed on the rooftop, staring at the stars—breathing heavy, body trembling.

And maybe… just a little ashamed.