Snapping back to the present, Amy watched as Vincent and the SCU guard both stood. Vincent coughed and watched as the wound at his side, a good 5 inches deep and below his left lung, closed up. Amy’s eyes bulged slightly as she really saw the wound. From his belly to back, the wound had cut through him so that, had it gone much further, it could have severed his spine. She was amazed he could even stand.
Her eyes drifted to Vincent’s hand and saw the black material covering it. Like a kind of shell in the shape of armour. Segments could be seen to allow movement in each joint of the hand and vicious claws, almost blade-like, jutted forth from his fingertips. The shell extended halfway down his forearms, still gradually developing. Her mind entertained the thought of what else Vincent could do before she forced it away, embarrassed by the fact she’d thought of that. Thinking of what Vincent was capable of as if he were a weapon. It wasn’t even the way she’d thought of a mage’s potential power, gauging what they could do if they decided to become a threat or wanted to help her against a threat.
Amy noticed a few little things about the SCU guard. Their armour was, of course, better, but appeared to be made to resist blunt damage more than anything. Secondly the sword in their hand. Its blade was of a similar look to the shell covering Vincent’s hands, sleek and sharp. The only difference she noticed was that it was less glossy and slightly greyed.
The SCU guard was far less damaged, claw marks ripping through part of their armour. Amy spied red beneath and knew that Vincent had reached the flesh. The pair turned to face one another, Vincent’s wound slowly closing up. The SCU guard’s seemed to be as well, but far slower. Inferior.