[color=silver][center][h2][color=0099aa]𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭[/color][/h2]
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The ball connected with the charging beast's head accurately enough, but the brief moment of victory Duncan felt for hitting a moving target square in the face didn't last long. As soon as the ball had made impact, it'd bounced off somewhere unseen, leaving Duncan without weapons - and also without his favourite fucking basketball. Great. He didn't... didn't think that far. Thinking wasn't exactly his forte.

But though the ball had done nothing to disorient the beast, it had drawn its attention well enough. That [i]was [/i]what Duncan had wanted, but seeing the beast's hulking form and hungry eyes turn to him, he wasn't sure why. So Haruko and the others could run while he wrestled it down like some sort of a fucking action hero? C'mon. He'd shouted for the others to do something, so why wasn't anyone doing sh--

Two shouts pierced the air; Asahi's, as he rushed forward with a burning stick, and Daisuke's as he spurred the rest of the team into action. To fight, not to run. A grin spread across Duncan's face. Man, what an [i]ass[/i], trying to one up him at every turn. He couldn't have that. Everywhere around them, the air was already filling with shouts, grunts, screams, as the other students all scrambled into action against the monsters. They were taking a stand on all fronts.

[color=0099aa]"Already on it!" [/color]Duncan shouted back at Daisuke, about to dash towards the wolfbear, when someone sped past him. Sasuke. In a feat that halted Duncan where he stood, the guy flipped the beast onto its back like it was some fat, flailing man. Oh. [i]Oh[/i], well, shit. Reminder not to mess with that one. Suddenly, his 78 streak against Daisuke didn't feel that impressive.

... Right, the dogpile! [color=0099aa]"Last one there's a fucking nerd!"[/color]

And everyone [i]knew [/i]he wasn't a fucking nerd.

The combined weight of multiple bodies piled onto the wolfbear, trying to pin it down. But it wouldn't be enough to just hold it in place forever, they had to actually take it down permanently, somehow. But how? Beat it unconscious? Strangle it? Snap its neck? Its skull was solid and neck thicker than Haruko's thighs! If only they had something sharp to just gut it.

You know what, whatever, with enough force, there was nothing they couldn't accomplish. The fear that had churned Duncan's insides had long since been drowned by a rush of adrenaline. This was the final game of the season, the one that decided everything, and he was the ace for a reason. So, stubbornly and recklessly, he shoved his weight, knees first, down on the beast's throat e to restrict airflow, eyes fixed on its jaws - but not on its claws.

Duncan didn't feel pain at first. He felt the impact, saw the claws as they grazed against his chest, but the damage done didn't register through the adrenaline. What he did register was all the red. It stained everything. His clothes, his hands, all taken by a warm red [i]something[/i]. Something was wrong, that much he understood on an instinctive level.

Someone close by, someone else in the dogpile, sounded startled. Their eyes were wide, finger pointing. At him. At his torso. Duncan looked down, and realized his shirt had been torn open. Bloodied chunks had curled to the sides. 

Then he realized the chunks weren't fabric. They were skin. 

Realization hit him with the force of a thousand basketballs: there was a gash on his abdomen, and he was going to fucking die.
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