TW: Urban Magic Yogs (UMY)

There's nothing quite like the feeling of rough bricks gracing his palm, digging his fingers into red dust and grit as he scales yet another building. Concentration etched into his features and woven into his soul. This, this was what he was made for. His tail whips behind him like a flag, like he should be proud, should pledge allegiance to his very core. It doesn't take long, a matter of seconds and he's at the top. Prowling on the roof like a god, like a king. The euphoria doesn't last long though. It never does in this city. Nothing lasts really, this city is a graveyard and the dark corners are reserved for their final resting. He supposes he should be glad, should be grateful that he's still living. His breaths ricocheted against his chest and in that moment he felt like stone. Ross sighs gently, long legs strolling to the edge of the building where he squatted. Waiting. Watching. Still as stone on the rooftops.

The streets were long and filled with dark corners, dim lighting cast overhead by half broken street lamps that no one cared to fix. The whole city wasn't like this, some areas shone with bright lights and joy, some were crumbled and in ruin. but all were controlled. For the 'greater good' they said. Trott could only laugh, he belonged to none of those, a controlled life is no way to live after all, Alex had taught him that. Why live the life of another when you can feel the waves against your skin, hear them crash into rock like symbols in a symphony. There were some. Like him, that lived outside of control. That ruled alleyways, commanded the underground. There were those, like him, who earned their living through hunts, through killing. Though for him and Alex it's more of a need than a want. They were the lucky ones. The Garbage court takes care of its own, even if it does mean a little bloodshed. Trott casts his gaze to the darkening sky and saw his friend in place atop one of the buildings, outlined by the red hue in the sky. They were ready.

Alex ghosted his hands over the handlebars of his bike, a sadistic grin tugging at his features as sat atop his throne of engine and steel. The kelpie smirked wickedly at the darkening streets around him. The sound of soft, careful footsteps echoed around the corner and he felt his fingers twitch around the throttle, desperate for the thrill of the chase. His victim rounded the corner, a mop of dark hair covering his eyes and hands shoved deep in his pockets as if he were hiding them. If Alex were to hazard a guess, he supposed the boy must be at least twenty. The hunt begins.

He flicked his headlight on, illuminating his target like a rabbit in the headlights. The man froze, looking at Alex with something akin to horror in his eyes before he turned tail and ran, sprinting through the claustrophobic streets as fast as his legs would carry him. Alex couldn't help but laugh, oh he did love it when they put up a chase.

The engine roared into life underneath him, purring and growling like a feral beast and Alex felt a sense of calm, of something he couldn't explain ripple deep within himself. Like he was connected. Like the rumble in his heart fueled the growl and thunder in the engine and he felt whole again. He kicked it into gear like second nature and stole through the streets. His victim was smart, he'll give him that. Diving into alleyways and streets like a maze he knew the route to, twisting this way and that. Anything to get out of range. He was good too, faster than Alex had pegged him for. He narrowed his eyes, seeming to almost melt into his bike seat as he took another sharp turn in pursuit of his target.

Chris, as if seeming to sense his friends struggle, or perhaps he heard the troubled roar of the engines a few streets away, looked up to Ross who sat, as ever, on guard. He called up to him and though his voice was both controlled and quiet, Ross seemed to hear him anyway, tilting his head to consider Chris' figure on the ground below before nodding, a twisted grin splitting his face as he shot off, pouncing across the buildings towards the steady heartbeat of Alex, the beat Ross seemed to hear echo through the city no matter where he was.

Chris watched him go, following his figure with his eyes until he was out of sight. Only once the last trace of his friend has disappeared into the night he moved. Fast, like fluid energy crackling through the city to the Garbage Court. They would meet there once the hunt was successful. Times like these Chris felt a little guilty that he couldn't do much to help catch the victim. His particular skills didn't exactly come in handy. Sure once or twice he had been in the right place at the right time and was able to follow on foot, trapping the target in between a rock and a hard place. But most of the time he acted as middle man, making sure everything went as it should. Sometimes Alex would let the thrill take hold of him and he would become greedy, unstoppable and Chris had to be there to make sure he kept hold of himself. These hunts had to go smoothly, they couldn't afford any problems right now. And someone had to tell Ross that a hunt had gone awry else the fucker would just sit on the roof all day waiting for something to do. As a team, they worked. Chris doubted these hunts would ever go smoothly or successfully if one of them was missing. In a way, they were unstoppable. And that's the way he liked it.

Credit to RollTheDice on Ao3