It wasn’t until D’Angelo stood to his full height that he saw the bi-pedal cat demon thing hunched over with a sword stuck out of the ground, its blade resting easily in its newly created sheath of earth. He studied the thing for a moment and knew at once that at this distance his relatively low-powered hand cross-bow wouldn’t even pierce the skin, if it could even make it that far.
He stayed quiet, though he came into easy view once he stepped out towards the edge, his right foot half hanging off the roof. Then, with a practiced ease he raised his cross-bow up and across his body, angled it up and then let it fly. The smoke was already dissipating, and shadowed forms could easily be seen. One of these forms gave a gurgled gasp and clutched his throat before tumbling down to the cold street.
It went against all of D’Angelos training to yell back some witty remark and so he didn’t, rather he fitted his hand-cross bow with another dart and withdrew his jagged short sword with his right hand. He wondered if the cat-demon thing would see him in the darkness of the night, above the lights and wearing a cloak that was designed to help him hide in such an environment. The creature had known he was there through some other means it had seemed, D’Angelo wondered what those means were.