(PROFESSOR UZUMAKI) BATTLE AT THE BANK III

There was no denying that the plan had been a gamble, one that depended entirely on her ability to cripple the Undersiders’ most dangerous assets before they had time to properly react. Shadow Stalker had known that from the moment she committed to it, and she had accepted the risk with the same cold confidence that had guided her decisions in the field ever since she had first put on a mask. Hesitation would have been far more dangerous than decisiveness here, and she trusted her own aim and timing far more than she trusted the dogs’ ability to survive what she had planned.

The three bolts left her crossbow in rapid succession, and she tracked their paths even as gravity reclaimed their hold on her and she dropped from the ceiling, already shifting her focus to what came next. Two of the shots struck true, sinking deep into thick hides with a wet finality that sent massive bodies crashing to the marble floor in convulsing heaps. Their roars cut off into broken, confused sounds as their movements slowed and eventually stilled. She could not be certain she had pierced their hearts, not with their anatomy warped so far beyond anything normal, but they were down, and for the moment that was enough.

The third dog lunged at her just before she landed.

She twisted with the motion rather than against it, finishing her descent with a brutal, chakra-fueled stomp that crashed into the top of its skull as it passed beneath her. The impact drove the creature into the tile hard enough to spiderweb the floor beneath it, and for a split second she allowed herself the grim satisfaction of thinking the ambush had worked perfectly, that she had ended the fight before it could truly begin.

Then one of the fallen dogs stirred.

Shadow Stalker barely had time to register the movement before it surged back to its feet with a furious snarl, blood darkening its fur as it shook itself violently. Its eyes still burned with rage, unbroken by pain or injury, and the sight sent a sharp jolt of adrenaline through her system.

She rolled aside just as its jaws snapped shut where her head had been a moment earlier, the sound of teeth clacking together loud enough to sound through the lobby. She came up into a low crouch, heart hammering, forcing herself to tune out Bitch’s raw, animalistic cries as they tore through the space at the sight of her fallen dogs.

Pandemonium had fully taken hold by now. Regent slid off the teller counter as sudden alertness replaced his earlier laziness, while Grue straightened near the center of the room, his posture shifting as he reassessed the situation in real time. Panicked shouts rose from the hostages, though to their credit they stayed huddled together, clinging to one another rather than scattering into the open. Shadow Stalker spared them only a brief glance. She could not afford to split her attention any further than she already had.

Then her leg betrayed her.

The stumble was small, just her foot catching awkwardly as she tried to pivot, but it was enough to throw off her balance, and she figured out immediately what it meant. Regent. She did not waste time trying to fight the effect or even looking at him first. Instead, she raised her crossbow and fired on instinct, the bolt slamming cleanly into his side.

He screamed and collapsed against the counter, clutching the wound as pain overwhelmed whatever concentration he had been maintaining, his power slipping its hold on her as a result.

Served him right, she thought coldly.

He had never bothered with armor or any form of protection, unlike Grue, who at least had the sense to wear a heavy jacket.

Speaking of Grue, he remained where he was.

He could not act. With one teammate down and another reduced to a sobbing heap, flooding the lobby with darkness would risk injuring his own people or worse. Charging her outright was not an option either. Shadow Stalker could admit, even now, that he was the better martial artist. He had proven that the last time they fought, decisively so, but she was currently engaged with a massive, enraged mutant dog. He was not foolish enough to test that advantage under these conditions and risk making the situation even worse for his own side.

She was grateful for his restraint.

It took everything she had to stay ahead of the dog’s relentless attacks. It lunged and snapped with terrifying speed, forcing her to keep moving, phasing, and giving ground in short, desperate bursts just to avoid being torn apart. She did not even have the breathing room to properly raise her crossbow, let alone line up a clean shot, and the longer the fight dragged on, the more her frustration began to bleed into her movements.

That was when an idea surfaced.

It was reckless, even by her standards, but she knew her capabilities well enough now to consider it seriously. Her control over her shadow state had improved to the point where she could choose exactly what phased and when, including any object she was holding. She did not need to turn her entire body intangible, only what mattered.

So when the dog lunged again, jaws opening wide, she did not retreat.

Instead, she stepped into its attack and allowed her hand to enter its mouth.

In her shadow state, of course.

The timing had to be perfect. Too early and the dog might hesitate, sensing something wrong. Too late and she would lose her arm. It was intelligent enough that the risk was real, but her training, both from Naruto and from the PRT’s attempts to understand chakra and its effects, paid off. Her hand slipped between its teeth without resistance, and before the beast could react, she solidified just long enough to fire.

The bolt tore into the inside of the dog’s body, followed by another and then another, each shot delivered at point-blank range. The animal convulsed as its strength finally failed, before collapsing lifelessly at her feet. Shadow Stalker yanked her arm free and staggered back, breathing hard now, adrenaline still flowing through her veins.

Bitch screamed, the sound raw and filled with fury.

Shadow Stalker turned just in time to see the villain charge her, movements wild and uncoordinated. The punch was obvious, telegraphed by emotion rather than skill, and she sidestepped it with ease. She drove her own fist forward, chakra surging through her arm, and felt bone give way under the impact.

Bitch went down with a wet, choking sound, her jaw shattered and her rage reduced to incoherent noise.

It was a deeply, viscerally satisfying sight.

Shadow Stalker straightened slowly, rolling her shoulders as she did so, and finally allowed herself to look at Grue. He had not moved closer. His hesitation was obvious, written into the set of his stance and the way his head tracked her, and the sight sent a thrill through her.

He knew. He could see it in the bodies on the floor, in Regent’s helpless agony and in Bitch’s broken form. This was the end of it, the moment where everything unraveled for his little group of thieves.

She smirked beneath her mask and opened her mouth, intending to savor the moment and allow a brief verbal exchange before it turned physical.

The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked cut through the lobby.

She cursed silently and began to turn toward the sound, muscles already tensing for the next threat, when a familiar, maddeningly calm voice spoke up behind her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tattletale said. “Not if you want your brain still in your skull.”