[The shadow quickly regains his footing, nimbly avoiding the swing of the log, his free hand unsheathing the sword on his hip.

the dark flames that's been roiling off the odd injury on his flank (that strangely looks identical to the claw marks Moon left on the elevator) slowly spreads up and around him, the jagged holes left by the porcupine quills closes - in time with the flickering of the Arcadia's emergency lights]

This is not your place... this is not your fight... how dare you all interfere! I have no need for interlopers.