Better than that ― he doesn't actually have to aim.
Integra may hear a startled, half-formed query when she charges past him, but by the time she reaches the intersection, Allen has caught on and is racing down the street to meet her halfway. At the summoning crook of one long talon, a translucent oval with a cross etched in its center flares into existence some distance behind her, burning with bright green light. While obviously some kind of shield, it quickly becomes clear that it's also offensive in nature ― too close to change course, the first wave of crows disintegrate upon contact to release a sudden shower of black pearls. Several long seconds go by, before it goes out with a final flare that destroys any crows left in its immediate vicinity, just as Allen catches Integra's eye as they pass each other again. Then he's gone, a streak of white hurtling to plant himself in the path of the frenzied birds. The next shield he summons appears right in the thickest of the swarm, creating another explosion that sends the remaining creatures reeling; but they're learning now, peeling off in groups so he can't get them all at once, and wheeling around to mob him from every angle while stragglers veer after Integra.
Fortunately, Allen's dealt with something similar back home, only created from the very matter of Darkness itself, twice as vicious, and armed with the deeply irritating ability to fire energy blasts. They'd barely been able to scratch him.
As soon as the first gang dives, others quickly following their lead, the mantle of his cowl comes suddenly and undeniably alive. There's just no way it could have been this long a mere moment ago, but the laws of physics don't seem to matter when Allen whips it around himself in defense, the simple motion hurling several crows into concrete and ripping more apart with far more force than any fabric should be able to muster. And he's not done yet. White ribbons extending from his right sleeve lash the air next, heading straight for the ones going after Integra. Some are practically spikes, hard enough to impale, others seem content with snatching the birds out of mid-air. He doesn't manage to get all of them, though; a dozen or so crows are still free and arrowing for Integra.
"Sir Hellsing!" Comes the sharp call of warning, marked this time by a notable difference in tone. It's a 'get ready to fight', not 'please run like hell'. Allen has his hands full anyway. His second round of attacks, while efficient, are very much physical, and the results are considerably less permanent. Many have already reformed, but that's all right. He's ready for them.
no subject
Integra may hear a startled, half-formed query when she charges past him, but by the time she reaches the intersection, Allen has caught on and is racing down the street to meet her halfway. At the summoning crook of one long talon, a translucent oval with a cross etched in its center flares into existence some distance behind her, burning with bright green light. While obviously some kind of shield, it quickly becomes clear that it's also offensive in nature ― too close to change course, the first wave of crows disintegrate upon contact to release a sudden shower of black pearls. Several long seconds go by, before it goes out with a final flare that destroys any crows left in its immediate vicinity, just as Allen catches Integra's eye as they pass each other again. Then he's gone, a streak of white hurtling to plant himself in the path of the frenzied birds. The next shield he summons appears right in the thickest of the swarm, creating another explosion that sends the remaining creatures reeling; but they're learning now, peeling off in groups so he can't get them all at once, and wheeling around to mob him from every angle while stragglers veer after Integra.
Fortunately, Allen's dealt with something similar back home, only created from the very matter of Darkness itself, twice as vicious, and armed with the deeply irritating ability to fire energy blasts. They'd barely been able to scratch him.
As soon as the first gang dives, others quickly following their lead, the mantle of his cowl comes suddenly and undeniably alive. There's just no way it could have been this long a mere moment ago, but the laws of physics don't seem to matter when Allen whips it around himself in defense, the simple motion hurling several crows into concrete and ripping more apart with far more force than any fabric should be able to muster. And he's not done yet. White ribbons extending from his right sleeve lash the air next, heading straight for the ones going after Integra. Some are practically spikes, hard enough to impale, others seem content with snatching the birds out of mid-air. He doesn't manage to get all of them, though; a dozen or so crows are still free and arrowing for Integra.
"Sir Hellsing!" Comes the sharp call of warning, marked this time by a notable difference in tone. It's a 'get ready to fight', not 'please run like hell'. Allen has his hands full anyway. His second round of attacks, while efficient, are very much physical, and the results are considerably less permanent. Many have already reformed, but that's all right. He's ready for them.