newtralize | The End Of Love

I need you to be as careful as possible. [It isn't said to be condescending or anything. He wanted to remind the other that this was more than just training. More so than usual because they would be at the forefront of all the groups. Newt refused to not lead. He wasn't going to let his aurors get hurt because he sent them in before himself.]

Let's go then.

[Newt draws his wand before stepping out from where they're hiding.

It doesn't take long for the harbor to fill with shouting and bright lights as spells are being lobbed from both sides as Aurors rush in and against gruff smugglers.

Newt's spellcasting is something wild though. For as refined as the man kept himself, the way he flicks and shoots spells had something about it that showed a man far more unrestrained and free than what you would expect from head of security.] Goldstein, take your group to the right flank. [As Aurors closed in, the misfits were starting to split off to try and flee.

One in particular, the leader of the operation, seemed to be sneaking off quietly to slip away from Aurors as they captured his men.]

Of course, [ Is the quick and honest compliance. There was safety in training and a confidence that grew with you in those walls, sure, and while he might have greenhorns in all of this he also knew this didn’t feel like training. It was startlingly real and though he paid it no mind, there was a small shake to his hands. Regardless, to his word Percival follows suit, drawing his wand and keeping up with the director when he goes.

And to see the man cast as he does—between shooting spells back and deflecting the ones sent his way—is intriguingly distracting. For moments at a time. A spell whizzes past him and pulls him back into the fight, with a rigidness that comes from training but with a quick snap that speaks to something withheld.

A ricochetted hex narrowly lands on him and has Percival spinning on his heels—in time to see someone quietly slinking into the shadows. ] Director! [ He calls, still facing the smuggler, before casting a disarming charm towards him. The man ducks behind a crate, dodging the spell, and with a grunt Percival takes off to apprehend the man. ]

Wha- [Newt makes quick work of incapacitating one of them before turning on his heels when he hears the other call him.

He only has enough time to see Percival break off and pursue one of them and Newt can't help but curse under his breath.] Pe- Graves! Abernathy, watch the rest of my group! [Newt can only have his men cover him before he's chasing after Percival. On one hand, the less people that escaped the better, but Percival was brand new and should not be pursuing someone on his own like this. It was reckless. Dangerous.]

[ Spells are slung between Percival and the lead smuggler, evident enough by the bursts of lights over the walls of crates—though by the lack of shouting it’s clear none of them have landed. A blessing more than a curse, regardless if the young auror only seems to think of it as the latter. Nerves haven’t gotten to him from what he can tell, but he can’t explain why his shots are as off as they are.

Crouched behind a wooden box he looks over his shoulder to see if the director is behind him, and when he isn’t some small spark of worry knots up his stomach. If it hadn’t been for the blast that decimates the front of the cover he’s hidden behind and sends the lid flying—ultimately making Percival flee the spot—he might have seen the other, but he’s only pushed further in.

Flinging a spell down the way to the smuggler, Percival uses it as a distraction, and this time it does land. The smuggler tumbles and swears something unintelligible before trying to hobble off. Once he catches a few breaths Percival gives chase again, sure in the thought he has the upper hand. ]

[Newt knew this area well. They had busted plenty of rings here before, since it was where most shipments came in and out of. His senior aurors and himself all knew how to get around and had a good idea as to how their adversaries utilized the area.

Percival, however, wasn't a senior auror. He was still getting up on his legs and he was sure the other was underestimating just who he was going up against. It wasn't that these wizards were particularly more skilled, but that they lacked care for who got hurt or what they were willing to do to accomplish their goals.

He catches up to the other and Percival seems fine. For how long is the question.] Graves!

[ The smuggler, slower now in his escape, slings another shot towards the young auror gaining ground on him, spooking Percival just enough to tuck against more boxes for cover. It’s enough time then to see Newt come up and join him, and the relief is visible on him.

For as handled as he could be during this, there’s still something that clings to him, just as noticeable. There’s the faintest tremble in his hand, a flush to his skin from the rush of the chase, and his eyes are wide, focused on the task ahead. ]

I got him, [ Percival breathes as he spares a glance to Newt. ] Some part of him— [ He clarifies with a scrunch of his eyebrows and shake of his head. ] We need to catch up, he can’t have gotten far.

The End Of Love

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