“Wait-” Phoebe choked out. But the man above her didn’t care. He couldn’t help her. He couldn't understand that she was now in an even graver danger than the one he presented. She looked back at him and came face to face with the barrel of his gun. Like the coils of a snake, it left her stunned; she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

She was also left stunned when Silver staggered out of the bushes. His gait made him appear drunk and confused, but the side effects of the bond’s breaking weren’t enough to stop him yet. High on the hunt, with all the swiftness he could muster, he came up right behind the gunman and dug his claws in.

It happened too fast for a reaction. The turtle-headed man’s scream caught in his throat, stopped by blood which began to drip from his mouth. Silver’s claws slashed right through the bulletproof vest and took a mound of guts with them. His other hand sunk into the man’s leg. In spite of the circumstances he was grinning, and began to further disembowel his prey with what Phoebe could only register as glee.

The man’s boot left her and Phoebe managed the momentous task of rolling onto her back. “No, no, stop,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. When she’d asked for his help, this isn’t what she’d wanted, right? The man had been about to kill her, kidnap her. But she hadn’t wanted to see someone die. She had never seen someone die before. The eyes staring down at her were so… blank. The vibrant, green skin of his aspect suddenly looked so faded.

Silver panted and shook his head. He ripped his claws back out along with a trail of viscera. The man–somehow still alive–began walking blindly in a last-ditch, instinctive effort to find safety. He took three steps before collapsing into the brush.