Dugan had a busy month. He'd been torturing muggles, had kidnapped a ministry official, attacked or threatened a few others, and was rapidly becoming one of the most feared men in the magical world. Dugan was even more intimidating than his cousin- which he loved. Dugan liked being center of attention, he liked knowing people were scared, he enjoyed it.

The wizard would enjoy it more, however, if women weren't terrified of him. The only girls willing to go home with him now were haphazard criminals who lurked around Knockturn Alley. Dugan had those women already. They were not what he wanted. What Dugan wanted was Margo Amherst- and for some reason she had not been staying at home lately. (He had no idea the reason was himself.)

But he wanted her. She was a beautiful woman, and strong. She was a good match for him, and if she wasn't a ministry employee then Dugan would likely have made her his property by now. But she did work at the ministry, and he had followed her more than once to the home of one of the WCU members. Dugan was fairly certain that the two were lovers- and it enraged him. In the wolf's mind he had marked his territory- Margo was his. And he would have her. He had kidnapped one ministry employee already- it shouldn't be too hard to kidnap another.

Dugan knew where she lived. He had been there before. He had bedded that woman there. And she had been more than willing. But now she was ignoring him. Treating him like he didn't matter- didn't exist. He wouldn't stand for it.

And after brooding- for quite some time- he decided to do something about it. It was well past midnight when Dugan skillfully picked the locks, disarmed a few wards, and found himself in her living room. He inhaled deeply, it still smelled like her. Immediately he found his way to her room- even in the dark he knew where he was going. Once in her room, he lit his wand- and she wasn't in her bed. Dugan growled darkly. She must be at that man's house- that Bagnold guy. Dugan would have to deal with him. But since she wasn't home- he lit up her room and began to pilfer through her dresser for a keepsake.

It hadn't taken much modification of his favorite spell -- the motion-sensitive sound charm that he used for everything from establishing a perimeter warning when hunting werewolves to making Grimm's desk drawer moan like a zombie when he opened it -- to set up an alarm on Amherst's flat.  Kurby had stayed up late one night tinkering with it until he'd finally managed to separate the sound from the trigger location.  Aside from functioning handily as a burglar alarm, there were all kinds of other useful things he could use his newly modified charm for, many of which he intended to put into use the next time the Ministry's necromancer left his office unattended.

It wasn't that he cared that Macduff was breaking into Amherst's home.  Kurby reminded himself of that for the umpteenth time as he grumbled and boosted himself out of bed, groping for his wand in the dark.  The former dragon research could do whatever the bleeding hell she wanted and he wouldn't care.  But the situation with Macduff was what had driven her to seek refuge with Kurby, and if he ever wanted to get rid of his new roommate so that he could have his flat to himself once more, then he was going to have to deal with the problem for her.

He realized with a start that Amherst wasn't there.  Maybe she'd gone out drinking with Groust or another friend after work;  or, very possibly, she'd gotten drunk and gone back to her own flat for the night, setting off his alarm herself.  Grumbling under his breath, Kurby pulled on a shirt and grabbed his hunting gear.  If this turned into a wild thestral hunt and he got there only to find that his temporary roommate had forgotten her fear and gone home, he was going to use an Unforgivable on her himself.

The main room of the apartment was dark when he apparated in with a crack.  Kurby stayed still as he let his eyes adjust, listening carefully and watching the shadows settle.  The Ministry had learned, after Colin Downer had escaped from his custody, that Macduff was a werewolf -- very likely one of the new cursed direwolves that could transform during daytime.  If that was true, there'd be no sneaking up on him.  Macduff would be able to smell someone coming from a mile away.

That meant using what he had to his advantage.  It wasn't quite the full moon, which meant that if Macduff were here, he wouldn't be in wolf form yet.  Kurby draped the silver chain he usually carried when hunting werewolves over his shoulder, letting it hang so that he could easily access it.  Without a sound, he began to pick his way through the darkness, unlit wand in hand as he made his way towards Margo's bedroom.

Dugan lifted his head, sniffing the air. He could smell... someone who was not Margo. One benefit from being a direwolf was the heightened senses. The wolf chuckled darkly to himself, leaving Margo's private drawer open and taking a step toward the doorway of her bedroom. He wasn't sure who was in the darkness- but he knew someone was there.

"I can smell you from a mile away," he announced- a tinge of pride in his voice. He gripped his wand- and quickly lit the room. The light spilled into the hallway. "Now now now, you certainly aren't the beautiful woman I hoped to encounter when I came through the door. You're more like the slim pickin's at last call. The kind of woman a guy wakes up next to and wonders what the hell he was thinking."

He looked down- noticing the silver chain that was slung over over Kurby's shoulder. "Ooh. Shiny."

Dugan then immediately dismissed the potential threat- going back to his previous task, made much easier with the bright light now filling the room. He pulled a pair of animal print panties from Margo's dresser, and tucked them carefully into his pocket. "You shouldn't be here, you know," he added. "It's not safe."

(All posts are collaborative from here on out, and any godmoding is approved by both parties!)

The werewolf gave himself away an instant before the room ahead of him burst into light.  Kurby gritted his teeth, stepping to the side of the hallway as he briefly shielded his eyes so that they'd have time to adjust.  That was the moment when he half-expected an attack, but it quickly became apparent that Macduff wasn't as ruthless as he should be.  Instead of seizing the opportunity to charge, he kept talking, smugly taking notice of the werewolf hunter and then turning his back on him once more.

Kurby took a split second to survey the situation.  Macduff towered over him, and he outweighed him by at least half a hippogriff.  The werewolf was huge, and chances were he was used to throwing his weight around.  Kurby had yet to encounter a direwolf in human form, but if they were anything like their naturally-cursed cousins, then he'd have increased senses, increased strength, increased speed.

Not that it mattered.  There was still the silver.

Kurby silently seized hold of the chain as the big man turned back to the dresser.  The silver chain wasn't a typical part of WCU equipment, but it served its purpose; enchanted to swing like a whip or to snap into place like a rod, it was multi-purpose, specifically charmed and adapted for battling with a werewolf.

He'd get one shot at this.  He had to be fast.

As Macduff began to speak again, he dropped to one knee.  In one fluid motion, he whipped the chain sideways, aiming to wrap it around the werewolf's lower legs.  As the silver whip encircled its target, he yanked backwards, using his weight and his lower center of gravity to force the enormous wizard off balance.

His cousin Adon, whom Kurby had taken to sparring with in practice sessions, had once taken the time to explain the basic principles of Krav Maga.  You hit hard, you hit fast, and you didn't stop until your opponent was unconscious or dead on the ground.  As interested as he'd been, Kurby hadn't needed the explanation to seize on to the concept.  That was one lesson learned from a lifetime of battling monsters.

Without giving Macduff a chance to recover, Kurby scrambled to his feet and charged toward him, silver knife already in hand as he launched himself at the bigger man and stabbed down.

Dugan had not expected Bagnold to be so deft with that silver chain, and was completely caught off guard when it wrapped around his ankles- pulling him to the floor. He slung forward, head bouncing loudly off of the dress in front of him, and soon he was face down on the floor. Moments later he felt the weight of the man on his back. Dugan began to push himself back up when the knife sank into his side.

The wolf roared in pain. The silver was burning, and he collapsed to the floor again. He wasn't accustomed to being attacked- not in a way that would actually hurt him anymore. Obviously the werewolf hunter meant business. Dugan lay there- gasping, and then he felt the knife twist. The pain was excruciating.

Dugan pushed himself from the floor, standing up slowly, the chain pooling around his feet. The hunter was still on his back- one arm around his throat. He had been expecting the relief from the blade sliding back out of his body- but it never came. Dugan was worried- the knife was still lodged tightly between his ribs, which meant the werewolf hunter probably had more up his sleeve.

He felt cornered, and panicked. He had not expected Bagnold to be so competent, and to come prepared, and to be ready to kill. Dugan tried to grab onto his opponent, and sling him from his back- but couldn't grasp him. Instead he settled for turning his head, and sinking his teeth into Bagnold's upper arm. Dugan bit down- hard- and then jerked his head away with as much force as he could- hoping to tear away the flesh.

While Dugan was trying to rip a hole in Bagnold's arm with his teeth, he was also moving- stepping backward, and then slammed against the wall as hard as he could, trying to shake him from his back, and hopefully hurt him- a lot- in the process.

The point of the attack wasn't specifically to cause pain -- but it helped.  He wanted Macduff down, hard and fast, before the werewolf had a chance to respond or retaliate.  Kurby gritted his teeth as he twisted the knife, digging it in as deep as he could into the bigger man's side, and then threw his left arm around his opponent's neck, letting himself hang as dead weight to choke him as he grabbed for his second knife. 

Even for a werewolf, Macduff was impossibly strong.  Despite the knife wound, despite the choking weight of his attacker, he still managed to struggle to his feet.  Before Kurby could bring the second knife around, before he could simply slit Macduff's throat and end this once and for all, the werewolf bit down, tearing into his arm with a savage fury.

For an instant, the pain was blinding.  It was like getting stabbed deep into the muscle, and Kurby instinctively tightened his grip around the other man's neck, gasping as he let the knife drop.  He'd dealt with feral werewolves before, monsters who had simply let their beast side take over.  Even so far from the full moon, Macduff was an animal.  He fought with bestial ferocity, ripping and tearing like a wild wolf.

Kurby steeled himself against the pain as he grabbed for Macduff's face with his free arm, intending to simply grab hold and twist until something cracked, when he was slammed back into something solid.  The shattering impact left him stunned; completely rattled, he lost his grip and collapsed to the ground.

Dugan closed his eyes when Kurby grabbed at his face. He felt nails dig into his skin, and when Bagnold fell to the ground he reached up, touching the scratch on his face. But now that he was free, he lurched forward- away from the man. Dugan reached behind him, fumbling, finally his hands found the knife handle. He gripped it tightly and jerked it from his body, groaning loudly. The blade dripped blood on the floor and he looked at it, growling. That had hurt.

His wand was still on the ground by the dresser, where he had dropped it when Bagnold had pulled his feet out from under him- and would be a better weapon. But there was no way he could get to it in time- not without putting himself at risk for another attack from Bagnold that he wasn't prepared for. He could see the second knife- the one he'd been waiting on- laying on the ground close to Kurby. No- he would have to forego the wand for the moment, until he was certain that his foe was incapacitated enough for him to grab it.

The silver handle of the knife burned his skin- but he held it tightly anyway, stance displaying a surprising skill with such an unfamiliar weapon. Dugan squared his stance- obviously ready to react to any attack the Kurby might throw his way.

"You know she likes it rough, right?" Dugan sneered. "From the looks of things I guess she got tired of throwing you 'round the bedroom and had to find a man who could do it right."

Kurby sat there for a moment, still stunned, ears ringing and back slumped against the wall.  The pain in his upper arm was still sharp enough that it was hard to focus on anything else.  Blood was gushing out of the wound, soaking his shirt on the left side, and with each gasping breath that he took, a sharp, stabbing sensation became more noticeable in his ribcage.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to mentally pull together as he clamped his right hand to the bleeding wound, pressing down as firmly as he could.  The reality of the moment set in with biting clarity.  If Macduff had immediately charged him, those few seconds of disorientation would have been all he needed.  Once again, though, the werewolf hadn't pressed his advantage.  He'd retreated, and now he was standing halfway across the room again, Kurby's knife in his hand.

The werewolf hunter took a deep, stabbing breath and clenched his teeth together.  They were both wounded, but Macduff clearly had the advantage of both size and strength.  Kurby might have him beat on speed, but even that he couldn't say for sure, and starting from a prone position was no way to win a one-sided knife fight.

His knives were gone.  His chain was laying on the opposite side of the room.  He still had his wand, but magic wouldn't work against a werewolf.  Kurby stayed where he was, clutching his arm, eyeing the fallen silver chain across the floor.  Macduff clearly still hadn't learned his lesson about pressing the advantage -- he was already monologuing again. 

Time to drive the lesson home.

The crack of his first apparition split the silence of Margo Amherst's bedroom.  Kurby reappeared on top of the chain, scooping it up with his good right hand before vanishing with a second crack.  He reappeared inches to the left of the werewolf, the silver chain looped around his fist, and launched a punch at the bigger man's chin.

Dugan blinked in confusion when the man apparated the first time. He watched him scoop up the chain and then apparate again- and the wolf assumed that the hunter had enough, and didn't expect the chain clad fist that collided with the underside of his chin. His teeth clattered together loudly, and his head flew back- blood and spittle trickling down his chin. He was startled- stumbling backward. Dugan wiped his mouth, slinging the blood to the ground. He ran his tongue over his teeth, glad they were still there- surprised none were loose.

This was getting old. Dugan didn't like being in a fight with someone who was a good match for him. It wasn't any fun to actually have to try to kick someone's ass.

Dugan looked at his wand again. He needed it. But there was no way to get away easily. Unfortunately for Bagnold- Dugan didn't mind fighting dirty. Dugan kicked- his boot connecting with Kurby's groin. He knew how that felt, and knew it would give him the few precious seconds he would need. As soon as he brought his foot back to the ground, he launched himself back toward the dresser. He snatched his wand from the ground, turned, and pointed it at Kurby.

"I would suggest leaving, Bagnold. If you don't, I'll make you wish I had killed you."

The punch connected, and Macduff stumbled back.  Kurby let one end of the chain drop, his expression deadly,  as he drew back to snap it at the werewolf's neck.  But this time his opponent moved too quickly, and as Kurby swung the chain around in surprise to block the punch that he thought was coming, he left himself open to the devastating kick.

For a moment, the world went white.  The pain was excruciating.  Before he even knew it, he was on the ground, agony tearing through him.  The nausea hit him hard, doubling the dizziness already brought on by the blood loss.  He couldn't think, couldn't function.  Couldn't move.

It took several moments for the pain to subside enough so that he could focus on the room once more.  By the time it did, Macduff was standing over him, his wand pointed directly at his head. 

"I would suggest leaving, Bagnold. If you don't, I'll make you wish I had killed you."

The bastard still hadn't gotten over monologuing.  Kurby bared his teeth, breathing heavily, hatred burning in his eyes as he glared at the werewolf.  He felt sick, dizzy.  Pain stabbed through his shoulder, his groin, and flared through his ribs every time he tried to take a breath.

"You can feckin' well try it," he managed to grit out.  He still had his wand.  His gaze was locked on Dugan's, fingers inching toward the concealed wooden stick.  "Go to hell, you bastard."

Dugan was still in pain. The stab wound wasn't comfortable- and the longer this lasted, the more he ached, and the more he realized he needed some form of medical attention. Likely in the form of a potion and a bottle of firewhiskey to help knock him out.

Amber eyes watched as Kurby's fingers twitched. "You can go first," was Dugan's response before he gathered all that was left of his strength and flicked his wand at Kurby. "CRUCIO!"

It was taught at Hogwarts that spells like that only worked if you meant them. And it was true. Too bad for Bagnold that Dugan didn't have a heart. Every bit of malice, anger, hate, vanity- every single negative emotion a person could feel- poured into the spell. Dugan's wand shook with the force as the magic smothered his opponent. It would be hard for most to watch- but Dugan just grinned, enjoying every moment of the writhing pain and screams coming from the hunter.

Agonizing moments later, Dugan tucked his wand back into his pocket. He stooped down, picked up Margo's animal print panties from the floor, and left her apartment- leaving Kurby for dead- or as close to it as a person could ever come.