Purge [OPEN]

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Axiom
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Axiom » Thu May 09, 2019 6:00 pm


Image
They were clearly dealing with a posthuman force.

She was fast and had knowledge that she shouldn't have had - being able to see the cloaked cyborg, or somehow know it was there. Options were varied - ESP, superior sense of smell, maybe some kind of radar. Or a spotter, working from far away. She was here for his head, after all. This was a hired hit.

Flint's hands clutched at only empty air. Contact had been short. She was quick.

Maybe he'd been getting rusty, or he'd expected it to be too easy.

Maybe he was pulling his punches, without even knowing it.

The enemy would abuse his psychological limits if given the chance.

Threat One's rifle was at their feet. Flint brought his boot down, attempting to casually break it as he moved into position, twisting to re-orient himself towards her. She'd moved, fast again - faster, it felt like, than some of the metas he'd tangled with before.

The child raised her gun and opened fire. Flint raised his wrist on instinct at the muzzle flash, feeling the bullets rip into the armored vambrance. That shouldn't have been possible - they were hitting too hard to be ordinary rounds. That, or they were almost supernaturally accurate, somehow impacting the same position on his wrist as he motioned to block the shots. Pain rippled across his forearm, clear through the bodysuit. Light penetration, stopping at the skin.

What? Impossible!

A little blood dripped through a hole in the brace, over his hand. His fist clenched.

No. Unlikely.

There was no such thing as impossible anymore. The hurt went away, as quick as it'd come.

Teja was at his side. She dropped a remark that pulled the side of his mouth up a little. Unbelievable. He'd actually take Prism over this kid any day.

"Only when I'm working," he muttered, tapping the side of his cowl. A protective shield slid down over his face, the same he'd employed in Newark. No taking any chances on exposing any skin when dealing with someone who was plausibly a bullet manipulator.

Time to run through options.

She's fast enough to avoid me up close. Area control could hurt Teja, or the 'borg. Maybe...

New plan. She was after him anyway.

Draw fire.

"Try to disarm her!" he barked, voice coming out with an electronic bass added by the faceplate. His suit was squeezing gently around his right wrist, applying pressure to the wound.

No time for that now.

Flint advanced head-on, not charging as before, but closing in with a predatory weave that would hopefully keep his movements unpredictable. The black shroud on his back swirled around him as he ran forwards, distorting his figure, doing exactly what it was designed to do - make him an obscure target.

Like a swooping shadow, he sought to strike the child with a devastating gut punch, closing in low to try and launch her off her feet with a close-handed blow.

Last edited by Axiom on Fri May 10, 2019 3:43 am, edited 1 time in total.

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ODIN
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by ODIN » Thu May 09, 2019 9:43 pm

I N S A N I T Y

As the Vessel's hand found nothing but the girl's rifle his body began to rotate, bringing him back to his feet in a quick roll as he turned to face the threat once more. His eyes glancing down at his open palm that hadn't managed to so much land a hand on her. Her movements were quick, enough to avoid both his and the Demon's simultaneous charges. Yet more then that, she'd been able to perceive his movements long before his cloak fell. She didn't appear to possess any form of advanced optics, nor did she seem to have a solid idea of where he had been. She'd attempted to reveal him with dust instead, indicating a knowledge or presence, not position. Strange. Still, the phased-array optics system was theoretically capable of simulating minute particles, a matter to be addressed with Gestalt later. For now, though, he'd simply have to engage her without it.

A hail of bullet rained down upon the Vessel's revealed form as both of his arms raised in a cross over his face. Protecting the most vital area as the stream hit the dead center of his chest with enough force to send him reeling backward. His artificial skin absorbed most of the damage from the first bullet, but the second tore through the reinforced polymer with ease. The rest blasted through him with ease before viciously bursting out through his back all while his body violently shuddered under the force rippling through him. The consistent fire created a single, visible line that had torn through his artificial body, the force of the lead storm nearly knocking him off his feet. A process only averted with the IntelliGyro counteracting the forces with his thrusters to restore a semblance of balance.

His body, while tougher than an average human, was created with the intent to remain lightweight and mobile, never to sustain as much concentrated gunfire as it had in that one fraction of a second. Yet despite this, the extreme accuracy the girl displayed made the damage much easier for his body to deal with. The internal system damage had been concentrated but relatively minor. There was no risk of him bleeding out, nor was pain a factor that needed to be addressed, furthermore his body was still capable of functioning to it's expected degree. While some systems would have to be repaired, it was nothing dire enough to require his immediate attention. It wasn't like he was in desperate need for his humidity sensor right now anyway.

His arms dropped him his face it didn't take him a second to respond to the girl's words. Her offer to carve up the Demon for her. An idea so preposterous he didn't even pretend to entertain it. Instead, he only gave a dry smile before the black pistol on his side began to glow, preparing itself for an inevitable deployment. "Cute, but not likely. You can end this unharmed, or with a broken arm, your choice. Don't make us pick for you."

Instead, he nodded his head slightly towards the caped figure. An attempt to disarm her seemed rational enough. With the aim she displayed it was going to be a hassle to keep her down without removing her guns from the equation. So he waited and watched as the Demon rushed in, holding back for just a fraction of a second before he followed suit, hovering off the ground before he dove forward.

There was no point at engaging at exactly the same time, especially when the opponent proved so slippery. If they both simply rushed her like they tried last time the results were likely to be the same. Instead, he'd attempt to stagger the assault. The ability to postpone his engagement to respond to her movement, not granted through prediction, but supernaturally quick reaction and the ability to fully process an event the moment it was observed. If the blow landed and the girl was launched into the air he'd seek to dart over the Demon and capitalize on the almost guaranteed strike that came with his opponent being airborne. However, his caution would prove most effective in the likely scenario that she attempted to dodge, in which his body would be propelled forwards to catch her mid-movement. With the Demon's body prevented her from turning around as he cut her off from where she wanted to go, almost ensuring that at least one of them was able to land.

Or at least it would have.

Inches away from the girl with an open hand outstretched to grasp her left shoulder and slam her to the ground, the Vessel's trajectory violently veered off course. Sending him into the air and away from the girl with a sudden rush of speed, the angle launching him into the side of the alley with none of the silent grace previously displayed. Nearly crashing through the wall his fingers tore into the side of the building, perching himself above the fight, as a fleeting scowl crossed his face. Looking down over the situation as he examined the new decision passed down to him through the AMP. Not the systems suggestion, but a manual one, with enough sway to avoid contestation. An absolute order.

"That's insane."
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Aeros » Fri May 10, 2019 2:49 am

Despite Brock's detached grasp, the resilient sunuvabitch still hung on. The claws had nipped the edges of his rib harness, each point failing to leave any lasting damage upon the strengthened frame of the suit but gripping onto the edge nonetheless. His jacket, however, was a different story— the bladed gauntlet was more than capable of puncturing the leather and poking at his skin, threatening to draw blood if this little scuffle wasn't resolved. Pronto.

"You want to fly that bad, slick? Let's go." LaVerne growled under his breath, voice lost to the scream of the rotors as he set their thrust to maximum output and tore off into an arc. Both hands wrapped around the arm that had latched onto his suit, now, fingers curling with the same iron grip that had both held and torn Fischer's shirt collar not long ago; like it or not, the man was locked in for a ride. One that he wouldn't be able to get off of, if Brock had anything to do about it.

Immediately, the RAVEn constricted Aeros' thighs and legs, preventing bloodflow and acting as a tourniquet as the two picked up speed. The change was imperceptible— not like the idiot locked against him right now had any idea what he was in for, anyway. Piloting was a precise niche, and the skills— as well as knowledge— regarding the profession were cards that Brock played damn close to his chest. He was practically a virtuoso in the field— unparalleled in expertise, and his enhanced strength only increased the upper limits of his threshold for greatness and finesse.

The wings of the suit curved downward, locking the trio— Brock, the unknown assailant, and Fischer— in a downward, arcing spiral that pressed the pilot's body hard against the harness, brain pushing in the back of his skull as g-forces from the maneuver threatened to black him out entirely. It had taken the tourniquet around his legs to stop the blood from flowing out of his head in tandem with the enhanced vitality from the Airman's Tonic to keep him lucid, vision turning greyscale as darkness encroached on both sides of the visor. Klaus' screams died out two seconds into the spiral, and he hoped his little friend here would follow suit.

And if that wasn't enough? LaVerne curved upwards, now, the transitioning of both momentum and inertia imparting enough force on each body to leave even the most experienced pilots in GLOC. The beauty of it? No armor could protect from it. No plating like the man's helmet could stop his own brain from rattling around in his head like a gumball machine— no, the suffering was brought on from the natural constants of the world around them. Irresistable. Infallible.

Using his own superior positioning, Brock swooped in low upon a rooftop and pried the man's talons from the edge of his harness, delivering a strike to the man's chest that, when paired with the release of his own grip upon the assailant's arm, would throw him down upon the concrete like a lifeless ragdoll.

And if he held on? Color him impressed. But the pain had only begun.


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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Lord of Nothing » Fri May 10, 2019 7:25 am

The man cybernetic threatened her and as one might expect, she giggled visibly. The man didn't seem too damaged due to the effects of overpenetration, but she got sense of satisfaction out of simply making him bleed, and this added to her increasingly bright mood. However her smile wanes to something more whistleful as the man stomps on her gun, the most powerful weapon in her arsenal and a sentimental present. One she had to train and work hard in order to be able to use properly. Sure, she could pick up a more modern and overall more efficient weapon. But it wasn't the BAR that her brother had given her.

She felt a hand pat her on the shoulder, and she looks at the cyborg man with a much cooler gaze. "That's silly Mister Cyborg Man." She smiled smugly, her hands going innocently behind her back as she stopped moving. "If there is anything time at war has taught me, it's that no one really controls the battlefield as much as they'd like I see a lot of ways for this to end. And in some of them, you, me and him die. So tell me Mister"
Image
"Are you ready to die? Because I am."


Are you ready sis?

Yes.


Another coordinated assault. As forseen the man is coming from her, but he is a moving target and she's not as good with this gun as she is with the BAR. She'll wait until he's closer until-

Bang.

She shoots the latch off a fire escape ladder, causing the ladder to fall in front of her. This functioned to block the punch, as continuing further would probably result in Daemon's arm getting caught between the bars and his fist stopping an inch short of her unblinking face.

She raised her hands to fire what should have been a killshot. But something coming, something from behind Daemon she didn't have the time to process. And when she couldn't process something, she did not think. She reacted. Her body moved against her will as she dodged an attack that wasn't even going to hit and sent her shot into the brick. She dashed to the side hard enough to slam into the side of the wall due to her autonomous reflexes and achieved nothing as a result of what is supposed to be a defense mechanism that keeps her from being shot.

A moment's shock and her vision whites out before returning. She's caught in between the moments. .5 seconds have transpired and she has no idea what's happened in that time yet.

She catches her footing and turns again half way, her long, white hair whipping around her as she turns to simultaneously turns to meet eyes with The Vessel. She has nothing to say, for she genuinely has no idea what he is about to do.

I like it.

She can't fire accurately on them both because she can't see them both, so she has no choice but to send another spear of rounds seven rounds aimed towards Daemon and settle for a volley of suppressing fire towards Vessel as he slowly comes into her field of view. Can't afford a reload here. Not with Daemon so close.
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by illirica » Sat May 11, 2019 12:58 am

As Teja had suspected, the girl was insane. She probably belonged in a mental institution, getting some sort of psychiatric help - but the thing about that was it was all well and good to suggest that, and more of a problem to enforce it when the person who needed that help was unloading her personal arsenal in one's general direction.

Since the crazy girl was currently unloading at other people, Teja supposed she had the luxury. It was a good thing, in that she didn't like putting down kids, and a detriment, in that she didn't like dealing with the crazy ones. No doubt the girl would start trying to kill her as soon as she engaged.

Well. Good luck.

Flint had given a command, one which was both sensible and well within her capabilities, which put him above several of the officers she'd worked with in the government. The girl was holding a pair of guns, but Teja left those alone - someone else could go after them; Flint or the new ally, and Teja figured that letting the girl have them would keep her hands busy, and maybe keep her distracted enough not to fight Teja's control over the other ones.

She went after the spares, both weapons and ammunition, the ones the kid had flashed when she was displaying her secondaries under her skirt. There was quite a lot of metal about the girl's person, and Teja shifted electric charge into each piece and gave them all a solid pull by altering the flow of the magnetic fields around them, creating a magnetic system to bring all those extra pieces out of play.

She didn't pull them directly towards herself, because it was all too easy to end up pulling a live grenade that way if someone was quick on the draw - which this kid absolutely was. Instead, she went for moving them over by the abandoned rifle, the one that had gotten stomped so emphatically just moments before. The plan was to magnetize all the pieces together, into a single ball of weaponry that wasn't particularly useful, leaving the kid with just the guns in her hand and the bullets in her magazine.

Not that she wasn't plenty deadly with just those, but right now it was about narrowing down options. The less options the kid had, the more likely she'd be to settle down long enough that she could be locked up in an institution that could handle that kind of crazy.

Like a space prison or something.

Teja smirked, despite herself. The idea was completely ludicrous. Kind of like putting Meshindi there, really.

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Axiom
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Axiom » Sat May 11, 2019 1:54 am


CLANG!

Unconventional, creative use of her firearms brought a metal ladder down over his outstretched hand, a move timed perfectly to stop him in his tracks. His shoulder crashed through the bars, halting his momentum just enough for the girl to escape his grasp once more. With a snarl, he tore his arm free, ripping the armored limb through the metal like it was tinfoil.

She was cornered, though, and she knew it. Bouncing off the walls, moving wildly - she'd bitten off more than she could chew, going after two of the top supers in the world along with one x-factor cyborg whose capabilities were unknown. It looked like his flight system had been damaged by the gunfire, as he'd spiraled off-target. As elite as the little girl was, though, Flint was starting to think maybe she'd overestimated herself.

No time to get sloppy.

Seven shots were sent his way - heading for the most prominent target.

The emblem.

Sparks flew as the rounds collided with his chest, the stopping power outrageously focused. The outer layer was dented inward, the black demon symbol now slightly warped in the middle. It'd have been a lethal attack, coming from an all-but-confirmed gun manipulator, if his chestplate hadn't been reinforced for just that reason. That was the point of the logo - to present an attractive target, and absorb what came.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt. This little girl was chewing through him bit by bit, making his hi-tech armor feel like a regular kevlar vest instead of a well-tuned machine. She had to be brought under control. No holding back - he wasn't the first she'd tried to kill. Hopefully he'd be her last.

Any sort of attack that put him in the air would be evaded, so no tackles, knees, or flying kicks. Without a doubt, any thrown weapon could be shot out of the air, deflected with a well-placed gunshot. No explosives, either. No unnecessary risk.

Just wear her down.

There was a reason most fighters buzzed their hair short. Her long silver locks moved a second later than she did. That presented an opportunity.

His hand darted forward, fingers splayed, trying to grab a handful of the child's hair to pull her in under his control. If successful, he'd follow up with incapacitating strikes to her wrists, doing his damnedest to get those lethal weapons out of her hands.


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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Savant » Sun May 12, 2019 5:45 pm


Rather than leap off the edge of the building, Tobias simply waited. Behemoth continued to cling onto the guy's suit, but the Gargoyles reject seemed intent on shaking him off. A maneuver that would probably leave all three dead.

As the Savant watched the aerial duel take place, he drew one of his new weapons from the blue-grey costume's utility belt. And as Aeros' downward spiral began, the Virtuoso hurled a Volt Knife.


Image
His timing wasn't perfect, but it was serviceable. The knife's target was the back of LaVerne's wing-pack thing, specifically whatever was powering it. When the weapon impacted, an electric charge would be conducted through the blade, and into the former Front Liner's suit. It might well not fry the flight pack entirely, but Aeros would be temporarily paralyzed nonetheless, and as a result find himself unable to pilot his rig. Hopefully allowing Isaac a chance to disengage safely.

I hope the knife doesn't break when he crashes. Those shits cost real money, and it's not like I have a day job.


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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Aeros » Sun May 12, 2019 6:50 pm

What in the name of hell is—

SHLKT.

The pain reached his mind before he even realized something had struck him. At the bottom of the wingsuit's arc—directly before he had begun to curve upward to impart more g-forces upon the bastard that was hanging off of him— the blade struck his side, digging into the skin and leaving a shallow cut. Still, it stuck out of his body like a fuckin' archery target, and Brock used his free hand to try and withdraw it—

"HHK— KKHRK—"

— only to feel an electric surge tear through his body, seizing up every limb and thought within his mind. He couldn't pull up, couldn't let go of the HVT or the unwanted passenger, couldn't even retract the wingsuit with a neural command, since his senses turned to shit the moment the charge kicked up in his body. All he could do was grit his teeth and fight against the pain to curl the wings around himself, eyes widened as the rooftop careened towards the trio across the breadth of a second.

At around sixty miles per hour— and it could have been more, if Brock had finished fully priming the thrusters— the RAVEn slammed into the top of the building, unleashing a plume of debris and an ear-splitting thundercrack from the impact. The force of Brock slamming into the brick outright cratered a portion of the structure, partially collapsing the wall and leaving rubble to spray out into the night like a rigged explosive— because, for all intents and purposes, the impact was an explosion. The wings' extensive durability prevented any irreperable damage from occurring, and the rotors were spared from direct contact, at least initially; an automated blade lock-up procedure in the events of high-speed crashes stilled the rotation of the turbines and cut the engine off directly.

But it wasn't enough to stop him.

Like a wrecking ball, LaVerne was hurled through one wall of the building and out the other.

KRSHSHHHHCHKSHK

He passed through the first completely, leaving its top partially collapsed.

KRSSHSHHSHCKHSK

He cleaved through the second with little effort, too, smashing through a window and shattering through a concrete wall. At this point, he didn't know whether or not either of his targets were still attached to him. The attacker, he couldn't care less, but Klaus—

KRSHRHSHKSKSSHHHHH

— if he was still in the talons after the third one, then the operation was FUBAR.

Aeros finally impacted the street, slamming off of a parked car and remaining airborne for another moment before impacting the ground, wings flailing in the descent as Brock rolled over himself and eventually came to a stop within the middle of an intersection.

Ringing.

His vision swam, darkness eclipsing in and out of his gaze as his visor struggled to update his vital systems with each passing second. FRACTURE DETECTED: L-TIBIA. R-HUMERUS. CONCUSSION DETECTED. PUNCTURE WOUND DETECTED: MIDSECTION, 8 INCHES. NO VITAL ORGANS COMPROMISED. HEART RATE: 150 BPM.

A pained grunt escaped into the night as Brock shifted, trying his damndest to move to his feet. His arm— the biological portion, because his artificial prosthetics didn't have to be the ones compromised, of fuckin' course— sent waves of stabbing pain into his shoulder and collarbone as he shifted, attempting to move to his feet.

SSHHLLLLLRKT.

His talons stepped on something soft. A quick look down confirmed the worst case scenario; Klaus Fischer hung in disjointed, pulverized fragments from the bottoms of his boots, having become more meat than man. Viscera clung to his pants and claws, and blood had splattered across the entirety of his body— red, in fact, had sprayed across his visor, which he now realized had a crack in it.

A pain shot out across his ribs as he stood. The same side as the knife. Another quick look down confirmed that the blade had been buried to the hilt in his fuckin' side.

Well, looks like it's mine now.

"F-fuckin' hell." LaVerne muttered, the wings and rotors finally retracting into his pack. The time for inspection would come later. Right now, he needed to fuckin' book it. Fischer's blood might have been on his hands literally, but not figuratively.

An alley lay not too far before him. Aeros moved quickly, despite limping upon his left leg heavily, and moved to get the fuck out of the area.


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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Behemoth » Sun May 12, 2019 9:40 pm

"You want to fly that bad, slick? Let's go."

He didn't hear the voice, but it was at about that moment Isaac knew: he'd fucked up.

Sure, he'd caught, but that was just the start of the downhill spiral. Literally. Birdbrains had locked onto his wrist again, so that even if he could unhook his claws from the pilot's jacket, there wasn't a chance that he'd be able to drop. The pilot himself was bound and determined to give Isaac a concussion - or let the forces around them give Isaac a concussion. His grip tightened subconsciously, just a reaction to the action of being grabbed again, and it locked him in for what looked like a final ride. The softshell mode of his armor was probably what saved his brain from turning into scrambled eggs, but that didn't mean he was fully conscious. He'd lost his bearings a good hundred or so feet back skyward. He was still awake enough to think, however, and his first thought was to attempt to unhook his claws from the jacket they now appeared to be stuck in. For better or for worse, he was along for this ride to the end.

The helmet picked up on a movement to one of Isaac's sides - Is that my right? - as he sluggishly tried to bring himself to bear. They were going down still, still going down, the rooftop that his drooping head could see closing in now moving much faster than before -

Hardshell! his mind screamed, the only coherent thought as he blearily watched the building creep closer. Hardshell armor!

His hand moved slowly compared to the crashing jetpack, but he managed to tap the armor once, twice, just as they slammed into the first rooftop. The impact jostled him sharply, but between the plating and the built-in hardshell mode, he'd survive the impact. Unfortunately, they didn't stop at first impact. There was way too much force and weight, between the pilot, the wings, and the two passengers, for them to stop now. Another molasses-paced thought crossed Isaac's mind between the wall of the first building, and impact with the second.

Why isn't the pilot pulling up?

Impact, second wall. Isaac felt the claws pull, tearing loose of the jacket, possibly taking some skin with them, but he was still stuck to the rig itself. The jolt seemed to wake him up, as he realized what was happening: that the wings had stopped. The hum of the engine had died out, as had the screams of the hostage. He was still unsure how, but finally caught on that Feathers had somehow lost control of his fancy wings. Wall three, and he started to move his arm again, the ace's grip having loosened at some point in their abrupt descent. The third building hit hard enough to tug Isaac the rest of the way free, his claws unhooking at last, sending him tumbling across the floor just before his target tumbled through the final wall.

He lay on his back for a long minute, letting his brain stop spinning at last. It ached like nothing he'd ever experienced before, but he didn't think he was concussed. He tapped on the faceplate to run a physical scan. Miracle of miracles, not a bone was broken in his sore body, and his throbbing head seemed to have come just short of any permanent damage. He blinked at the ceiling, absorbing the results, before groaning, rolling over, and standing up. Powers that be, he was stiff. But he wasn't done yet. Not quite. The guy must've crashed below -

The hostage. No, no, not again...

He got some extra pep in his step from the thought. He was already reaching toward his belt, going for one of the two longer blades in his belt. He reached the hole, and looked down in time to see the pilot limping away from the bloodied mess of the civilian. He was fleeing the scene. The mask read several broken bones, and yet he was still on his feet. Tough guy, but Isaac couldn't let him just walk away from that

Oh, no you don't.

One heave was all it would take, a non-lethal throw that aimed to cut the legs out from under the already injured pilot. Hopefully it hit, and hopefully Sav could pick up from there while he either caught a breather or found a way down.
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Savant » Sun May 12, 2019 10:12 pm


Image
As the Gargoyle went down, taking Isaac with him, Tobias leapt into action. Among the skills he'd recently upgraded was parkour, and it paid off here. But rather than simply descend to the street, to rejoin the hopefully-unharmed Behemoth, he tracked Aeros' exit route, and made to cut him off.

Aided by his steadily-improving athletic build, the Wunderkind crossed a rooftop and a half in under a minute, his silhouette visible above the pair in the street, as he vaulted radiators and slid under a water tower. Finally, leaping off a fire escape, he touched down on the ground in front of LaVerne.

While Tobias had been crossing the distance, though, he'd caught a glimpse of the crash site. And more specifically, the mangled corpse of the third guy in the sky. A moment was spared towards guilt, before the Savant suppressed it. There would be time to unpack exactly how culpable he was for all this later. Right now, there was someone who clearly held fault for the death. And he was in front of the Prodigy, looking like he'd been put through a blender.

As his boots hit the ground, the Savant made eye contact with the Behemoth, and nodded. Then, his attention returned to Aeros.

"Hey. Fucker."

To punctuate the greeting, the Adept delivered a roundhouse kick directly to the face, intending to knock the ugly-ass mask right off the Gargoyle's face.


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