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Contract killer; (OPEN! Center's darker side)
Topic Started: Mar 19 2008, 08:14 PM (961 Views)
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Brian… our first meeting didn’t go as I had wanted. Yet you know that you are now my employee.
Contract signed and rewards all lined up for you, your precious Meta Center will grow.
Yet for all I’ve done you’ve not proven a damn thing to me. We’re going to fix that, I want to see that you’ll always be the good mercenary I need you to be.
So head to the AHS Arena, I’ve lined up a small test to what you should be getting quite used to. With Human and Meta tensions so high, a few mercenary outfits are making quite the barrel of money pushing races around. You’ll need to be tough.

Good luck
--Mr. Garcia


Brian crumpled the letter in his hand as he walked alone to the arena. He’d debated not going all together but this man’s threat. Brian couldn’t risk letting Raine down, as much as he couldn’t risk Lilith learning that he survived her. His life had come so far and now he had something to lose, and he couldn’t bear to lose it. If it meant becoming the pawn of a corrupt goblin then that was how things had to be. He had things all set up, even if Brian had choked the life out of this little green creature. All he would have accomplished was put green blood on his hands.

His life would be in even greater danger… walking though those arching doors Brian felt the pressure of this place come back to him. The terrible battles that students prepared for, the rivalries that were put to the test, and the training spirit of hardened fighters, all poured their sweat and blood into this salty earth. Brian treads softly moving towards the center of the arena with no mask of presence or attempt to hide who he was. He had to come exposed; otherwise there would have been no test.

Brian looked to his feet where they had stopped; he could have kept marching walking though the arena out the doors and been back to his life. Mr. Garcia could ruin everything but he’d still have his life, still have Raine. Yet the deed to the land that Center stood on was burned in his mind. He was promised that land when this was all over. A few mercenary tasks and he could be on his way, that was all the price to pay to have both Center and more time without Lilith.

A fowl wind blew though the open archways, Brian’s coat fluttered as he shielded his eyes from the wind. He didn’t see who was approaching, as his eyes and vision was momentarily closed. He couldn’t know what was to happen now that his first of many trials had begun as the lights around the arena flickered to life with the last rays of light abandoning this earth for its sleepy rest.
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Izzy
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A frigging contract like this... damn, they were mercenaries, not thugs. But still, the job paid cash, so Mark had to let himself into this rather... stinky contract. Tensions were running high again, but Marauders... they weren't very distinguishing of a meta and a human. As long as you could clear a room of any hostiles, regardless, you were hired. Mark's sister, albiet not by blood, was human... technically. He wasn't actually sure that a person who frequently shot a .50 Barrett on the run and actually hit something counted as human...

Still, for this contract was good paying and also rather fast to get done, Mark brought along his friend to help it go along faster. And spread the guilt, to be honest. Issac trudged along beside his partner in job, and rested his hand on the pommel of his katana. He was a mercenary, today and for maybe a good while. At least until he found a job that paid as good. Mark had offered the empath a job, seeing as that was his reason for being at AHS in the first place. Surveying the arena ahead of him, Issac pulled out a throwing knife, and flicked it between his fingers. It was almost like the pentricks people played in other classes.

Mark looked at the entrance of the arena, the speakers plugged into his ear blasting out a rock tune. But inside, in his ear, was a different story. Linda was acting spotter, sitting on a hill quite a distance away. Possibly a few kilometers. Although her .50 had been confiscated earlier due to an incident with her, a motorcycle and a man who didn't have any decency with his hands, the Marauders had unconditionally taken the weapon away... for now. But she still had a x40 scope, and... her vision was more than 20-20 at that useage.

The inside of the mic whispered, probably because Linda was in her far off post, a guy, standing around inside the arena, huh? Trench coat... erm, the rest of the description was shrugged off as Mark made visual contact with the guy. He pulled out his own throwing knife, comparing with Issac how to throw the bladed weapon. Issac drew back, aiming for a post about ten meters from the two boy's position. A hiss, thud and the knife quivered as it planted itself onto the target. Mark tried the same, and hit the post... two posts down the row.

Yeah, he really needed a lot more practice.

The mercenary pulled another knife out, aimed, threw, and hit the right post. Well, it was better than the first time, wasn't it? The two boys traded banter, all the while letting Linda size up their target. It he wasn't the guy in their description, he would be left alone and allowed the two to get more practice in, seeing as Mark really needed the push to get him into throwing knives...
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The wind died, Brian’s arm fell from protecting his eyes and looked out over the arena, nothing. There was nobody approaching; only the soft roar of people moving about outside of his area. As light died and darkness fell on the arena, the flickering luminescence of the house lighting spot lit him and the dirt floor arena. Whatever task Garcia had in store for him it was late, maybe it wasn’t coming at all. Maybe it was simply a test to see if he’d show up like he was told to. Brian shook his head, wondering if this whole task was mealy his imagination getting the best of him.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Brian thought as he turned back towards the entrance of the Arena. His eyes open and staring out over the vast open world. He smiled a bit he could hang out for another hour then be on his way. Proven that he’d do what he needed to do to make sure Center would grow. There was no warning for the watchful eye that was upon him.

His description had been as clear as Garcia had cared to make it. The hit was on a Meta human, one that looked like a beast more than a man. Red fur, tail, and a extraordinarily skinny body. He’d be wearing a blue coat that clashed with his grubby looks, something that almost made him look respectable. Over a grubby blue shirt and pants, his hair would likely have gravel in the mop of red. Beyond that he’d show up at the appointed place on time.

Brian brushed back his hair as some rock chips fell out of his scalp. His training was progressing slowly, no matter how hard he fought to pull the earth from it’s roots his chains always felt like they weren’t pulling heart enough. He felt like he was doing far more work than Tlachtga had done when he was using her.

Brian held his hands out before him, looking at his palms and fingers, seeing where he had gripped at his chains so many times before and half expecting to see the chaired twisted remains of what gripping such strong magic should do to him. Yet Practice makes perfect, while it would help if someone had been here before, there was no master or teacher for Brian to turn to. He was standing alone on this road because it was his road, he was the only one who could truly know what he was capable of, and often he had no clue.

Though Mr. Garcia said different, Brian no longer felt the need to prove himself to anyone. He’d done that, he’d suffered his trials and come out on top, become more than anything he could have accomplished as a child.
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Hmm, not good. The guy wasn't attacking them, so the two mercenaries weren't really too sure if they should attack the poor guy. If they hit the wrong person, well... that would be a lot more than 'too bad' for the two of them.

It would have simply been unprofessional.

Mark's knife thudded into the post again, with a little more accuracy than the last throw. He wasn't really used to using a knife like that. Lob a grenade, sure, but not this kind of thing. It was not something he was used to doing. Sighing, probably in frustration, Mark walked over and pulled out the two knives. Issac had more, but he wanted to train with his knives, not that of his teacher... of sorts. Turning to look at Issac, he got a shrug of approval. Well, either way, the empath was finding something very odd about their target.

He was more... alive than others. It seemed that Issac could access his emotions more readily, and... it was almost like his thoughts were being read, too. Images, although the empath had trouble actually focusing to get a clear image, he knew what it meant. This guy was going to be a wild ride if he got into contact with Issac. In a bad way. He threw a knife into the air, caught it, and hurled it at another post. Thudding into the wooden structure, Issac found his right arm had recovered nicely since Naru had almost clawed the forearm open.

Shoot, it was perfect.

Mark's iPod started a new song, one with Linda's voice and with a lot of regret in it.

"Guys, that's him, that's our contract."

Looking out at Sierra Hotel, the Marauder's nickname for a Sniper Hide, Mark then looked back at his target. The living, breathing Brian. Damn, this wasn't his choice of target. At least the guy would have shown some sign of aggression. Sighing, he unslung his shotgun as Issac shook his head and pulled the katana free. Circling each other, the swordsman turned his back to Brian to face Mark, who leveled his shotgun, aimed a lot higher than he should have, and fired a hard round at Brian. Issac felt his hair blow backwards from the force of the shell spinning past his head. Turning around, he joined Mark in his sprint to close in with their quarry.

Marauders. Mercenaries. Well, they were going to do their job. Earn their keep.

Hurt someone who didn't do anything to them.

Issac hated this job.
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Brian should have noted the two training students, yet their faces were vaguely familiar, apart of that small list of AHS students that had not tried to kill him. No right now Brian had other things on his mind, the many things had brightened his life. Much like the chain of lights within the arena, Brian had found a home, strength to defend his friends, Raine, and a dream to pursue. Yet like the well lit interior of the Arena all these good things were surrounded by an oppressive darkness.

The sound of steel clearing a sheath drew Brian’s ear, Brian remembered them now, they were the pair of boy that had been training on the mountainside. They were typical students, they were the type of students that Brian pursued his dream for. Yet right now, as Brian looked at the gun pointed at Issac’s head, and the shot was off. His eyes weren’t following that barrel down at his friend’s head. That barrel, was pointed at him, their difference in height was obvious as Brian felt the heated flash of his heart gripping in fear knowing that this bullet was meant for him.

Brian reacted instantly, his body shaking free the dream of peace that he had earned. His shoulder twisted back trying to move his body out of the way only to still be caught in the momentum. Too late, the shot collided with his shoulder the roaring rubber material dug into his coat and arm. It spun him faster than would seem possible bending his arm out of position as his body fell up and backwards. As the pair rushed forward for the kill, Brian slammed his arm into the soil, it looked like his arm had broken as his body flipped over and the chains roared into the soil.

Brian sword he heard something tear as his arm yanked and anchored him from continuing to fly with the momentum of the bullet. His knees crashed into the earth, and he looked out at the charging pair. Mark who had shot him, Issac who came with sword drawn, one with regret the other with a cold steely eyed look. Brian was angry, his heart beat with desire to protect his light.

Roots snapped with unspoken desires as the earthen magic that Brian had so accustomed called chains twisted in the soil and pulled free a slab of earth. His fingers curled around the roots, reaching back his arm as a slab jumped free of the rooted ground, twisted in the air and flung forward at Issac’s feet. While his tethered arm pressed his arm deeper into the soil and felt the roots dig deeper, then Brian pulled back, and a pillar from the earth that stood between Brian and that shotgun.

Brian felt it without thinking about it, the chains felt more alive, reacted to what he felt now as his heart beat fast. His eyes searched for the reason but knew that he had to fight them.
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A hit, damn...

Issac closed in with Mark, two Marauders bearing down on their contract.

Pumping the next shell into his shotgun, Mark aimed and fired another shell. This was true steel scatter shot. Twenty pellets of steel sparked off the steel railings and chipped concrete as Mark began to vault over bleachers, his Ghost Arms beginning to form and lift him up, a towering spider of death. All considered, Mark wanted a vantage. Shouldering his shotgun again, he aimed for Brian. His crushed emotions strained at the hinges of the door, mentally locked up as the three steel nubs lined up with the body of their quarry. This wasn't an assassination mission, just making him look dead was enough. Snap a few pictures, and they could get him to the Nurse's office.

Rushing up the stairs, katana drawn. They always planned ahead, the Marauders. This had been the plan, and Linda was still watching. Jumping up a few more stairs, his emotions let fly. This wasn't a man, it was a thing, a target that had to be hurt. But it breathed, it had emotions, clear as the letters on their contract. Damn, why didn't that thing just shut itself!? Mark's shotgun blast shot ahead of Issac, his heavy shoes slapping on the concrete as he looked at his target. The man had his hands on the ground, and energy and concentration was flooding to the palms of his hands... and moving into the ground. Shit, he was going to try something!

They were wrapping around a slab, and it burst around the ground. Issac threw himself to the side, feeling the sandpaper of the concrete scrape hands and his forehead. The slab of earth... wow. It struck a chord of his memory. A training session involving a red furred guy pulling rocks up to be targets. Well, this was a similar situation... damn! He knew this guy!? Issac brought himself up, knife freeing itself as he drew back. Hurling the blade, tumbling through the air as he aimed for Brian's chest. The guy wasn't paying attention to him. Bad luck. Katana picked up and withdrawn, Issac renewed his efforts, closing quickly with his enemy.

He was swinging around, flanking his enemy. It was a simple squad tactic, brought from all the way back in World War II. Attacking from a blind spot, where the attention was taken by a seemingly greater threat. Mark's shotgun pointed at the target's back, all lined up and ready to be shot. It was a pity, really. The target wouldn't have a chance to hit them, and that was for the best. Not giving the enemy a chance was what he liked to do, regrettably. Less people got hurt overall this way. So sorry, but it wasn't nice to meet you. Pulling the trigger, his next shot coughed out a solid shell, the kickback was enormous.

Issac stopped as he felt Mark's weapon cough out its payload. Damn, this was going to get really messy.
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They were experienced, it was Brian’s only thought as the pair spit apart, a surge of magic creating ghost hands lifting one into the rafters as he rained down another shot. The majority of it found itself lodged in the bleachers. The rest, the pillar Brian had pulled between now had three steel bearings and a knife against its skin. Just in time… Brian couldn’t help but breath, his heart wasn’t in the fight yet, these were still students of AHS, student’s he wanted to help. He was on the defensive, and the caught breath cost him moments that he could have kept the pair together by switching to the offensive.

Brian’s eyes refocused, they were both within his range, he focused and sent energy shooting though his body, but his collar beeped to life. There was no QCS two available to him any more, he was prevented him from making them truly within his range. The sparking power instead generated as purple lightning arching over his body. There would be no high powered quick solution to this fight.

Again another mistake cost him valuable time, Mark had settled into position behind him, Issac was nearly within striking range. Brian had let them pincer him, and he moved immediately his foot pressing against the stone pillar it seemed like he would flip back from the stone pillar as Issac approached. Instead Tlachtga’s essence seeped into the pillar cutting it in half as he swung his leg back, the stone sweeping across the ground kicking up dirt and dust as it went. The shot went off echoing around the arena.

The small dust clouds cleared quickly as Brian leapt out from between the pillars and with him were two stone orbs. Exactly like the ones used in their training, Issac and Mark would remember he had trouble controlling them away from his body. Yet the stone orbs were clutched in his palms, held out like he would at a moment fling them at the pair. Arches of purple electricity flew down his arms as both stone orbs cracked and shattered in his hands.

The blast intended for Mark went off first, a blast large enough to envelope his whole body, Within it the shards of the stone carried like his own version of the shotgun. Fluttering within, the Jukken just like how he’d done it at the arena fight. This anti magic wave was intent not only to damage Mark, but to nullify any magical properties he might have been using, like the ability keeping him up in the rafters rather than down to earth.

The second blast was much smaller a basketball sized Jukken out of his arm facing Issac, the same concept though this blast seemed more to stabilize Brian from behind blown back by his first blast. Both hands were empty now as the chains had been nullified in the blast Brian instantly retreated for his growing defenses.

The counter attacks would be on him shortly, he had to fight between their breaths. His body ached not only from the hits but from memories. He was remembering everything he had learned, everything he had become before Lilith and his coma. Mr. Garcia may have center right now but these two were just the kind of students that Brian wanted to help. If he couldn’t handle this, he wasn’t fit to run center!
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Well, at least he was fighting back. Mark and Issac both worked their best, and they could see this guy worked the earth.

The steel blades wouldn't do much but bend under the sheer tonnage of these stones, so Issac pushed himself foreward, legs pumping as his steel blade was tucked close to his body, running up the stairs and dodging the large rocks that rolled down the stairs. He was almost there. Jumping aside, straddling a bleacher, Issac springboarded forewards, his sword coming up and bearing down as Brian's foot made contact with his pillar of stone. His entire being was wrapped around thoughts now, and Issac could see his focus on the stone, the essence of his power surging through the pillar, a vertical line.

The pillar snapped into two. Dirt and dust were swept aside, light seeing eyes gave way to burning grey spheres, apathetic eyes looked on through a cloud of dust. They didn't need to see through particles of stone, only see the energy Brian wrought with his powers. They were more than enough. Trailing the afterimage, Issac followed Brian's body, sword slashing when the shadow grew big enough to see. The pillar was avoided entirely, seeing as Issac had stepped sideways before jumping that last meter. The red shape drifted away, and Issac felt shame, if only for a fleeting second. The guy had no killing intent, only self defence.

Mark's shotgun blast went wide, it seemed. More sparks, more dents, more money spent on replacement shells. Damn it, this wasn't going as smoothly as the plan went. Still, these sort of things rarely did go to plan, and as that was happening, Mark planned accordingly. Linda shouted where to aim, already an expert at directing artillery in three languages, so it wasn't too hard to tell her younger brother to aim a little more to the left. He did, and fired off another shell, a wide pattern of small shells. Lead balls ripped through the air, the barrel kicked up as Mark searched for his target. Issac would be getting close now...

Ghost Arms let him use his own feet, the freed arms now ripping knives from sheaths, holding them wide. Dashing down the stairs, the eight knives blurring through the air. It wasn't really a meta trick, but one that was known for a while now. Dark grey spray paint, colored at a refined shade. It was the color of shadows, nothing special. But it tricked the eyes, made it not there, but somewhere else. No magic, but rather, a very specific science. Still, it made his knives near invisible in the night, and it worked. That was all Mark cared for. Dashing forewards, he leaped over a bleacher as Brian came around juggling two giant balls.

Both boys delayed their attacks for a second.

Then the two balls exploded.

Jukken, it nullified Magic. But Mark's Arms weren't magic, they were simply pure willpower compacted into an arm. Still, he did lose control, the Ghost Arms stock still. Thankfully, most of them were pointing forewards, and Mark only got chips to deal with. They still cut, a dozen knives slicing through his heavy clothes. Grunting, Mark shouldered his shotgun again, pointing in between his Arms and at Brian. Another cough as his shell exploded, forcing its way through the barrel and out the other end and bouncing off the Ghost Arms as the steel balls slammed through the sound barrier. And now, to check on that IOU: Body cut up, need to sleep. Need to faint.

Not now!

Issac would feel that blast for more than a while. He was certainly thrown, his arms and the half formed shield of Ore no Do his only protection. Damn, his legs were cut up, with the scabbards and the knives themselves only giving marginal protection. The riot shield had done little to save him from feeling the pain. Stone chips pinged off the shield and the blast threw Issac into a bleacher. He quickly got up, katana protectively guarding his body. No time to lose, the shield forming as far as possible. He looked at their target. Time to strike back. Anger boiled inside him, his dark grey shield smashing the last of the rock chips out of the way.
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The world moved at a crawl, his breath caught on the air as his feet carried him. Back for his stone pillars, back to the safety he had built. Meanwhile, Mark’s hand pumped in another shell, and the muzzle flash, Brian’s feet beat against the ground just as the solid shells beat against the ground Brian had been on.

Brian’s eyes caught the position of the boys; he knew the angles of his pillars no longer worked. Two boy’s constantly moving around him, before long Brian knew his shielded defense would become a coffin. He couldn’t leave himself boxed in! Just as he reached the safety of the twin pillars, the blur of red and blue rushed straight on though. He’d take the fight to them, get them in close fight them where he could find his advantage.

Brian could see the rage in Issac’s eyes, his shield smashing away the rock chips. There was nothing between him and Brian, he needed that intensity. Brian knew that kind of rage, it would bring him in close, and he’d want to hurt Brian. That rage was something Brian was familiar with, with Issac close enough; he’d be Brian’s shield to Mark’s shotgun.

Brian rushed as his arm with blatantly cocked back, coming for Issac without hesitation for the sword or the manifested shield he had produced. The distance was closed before Brian had time to come up with a real plan of attack. His feet mealy followed the path and then the roots burst from his arm and seeded in the ground just as he approached striking distance. Brian’s first furious strike was a long drawn punch that carried with it a rising wall of stone.

The wall arched up to Issac’s right where Brian’s fist followed from, as his arm cut off the roots. Brian’s eyes flashed on Issac, a right hook aimed to take his jaw line and if possible bring a quick resolution.
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Izzy
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They were boxing him in, the two boys using the pillars to keep him trapped and limited. Mark's shotgun levelled again, and he shot another round at Brian, the pellets skittering over the concrete as Mark bounced them off the concrete. It was risky, as the angle was guessed, but if it worked, they could simply immobilize their target, and not have to hurt him too badly. Issac was closing in from the other side, so missing Brian would be bad for the Marauders. Loading a solid shell into the shotgun, Mark closed in, cautious to where he shot. It was all too tempting to shoot directly, but Issac's shield wouldn't stop a heavy slug.

Brian began to close in on them, and Issac found himself on the receiving end of an attack by an AHS veteran, graduate, and overall not very good person to piss off. The guy was thinking about him, trying to fuel his rage. Trying to get him to make a mistake. Logic cooled the anger, and while it remained in his eyes, it no longer was in the process of thinking. Bringing the shield up in a one man phalanx, the shield resting on the top right corner as he bounded up the stairs, Issac closed, his empathy peeking out, seeing for him with eyes that weren't needed. Brian would be closing now.

Bring it on.

The AHS graduate closed in on the younger of the two, it seemed as if he was trying to pick him off before moving on against Mark. The guy was good. But Issac was going to be better. Today, he would be better. Issac gunned it up the stairs, his sword pulling back to mimic the fist. Then the rocks exploded from the ground, arching up and threatening Issac's safety. Plans rushed through his mind, and one surfaced. He trusted Mark, right? The mercenary had rubber shells, right? Well, that would be cashed in here, now. Stopping, bracing against his shield, the empath peeked his head over his shield, and called out.

"MARK, THE SHIELD!"

Trust, understanding... teamwork. It all happened now, or it fell apart forever.

"NOW!"

Marauders understood what had to happen. Mark nodded, loading and pumping a large pellet rubber shot, aimed at Issac's shield, and fired. The empath ran forewards. The rubber projectiles crashed into the shield, causing Issac to grunt as the stress marks splashed across the smooth surface. Why would a person shoot at his own teammate, you ask? Well, it was to get in a double attack. The rubber shot bounced off the shield, Then there was no shield. Issac dispersed his protection, his sword stabbing foreward and following behind the wall of rubber shells. This was risky, but if it worked, it could end the fight.

Mark didn't waste time on dramatics. He charged forewards, picking up two knives off the ground. The Ghost Arms were in their recharge state right now, and they were no longer any use to him. But a pair of tempered steel blades would still hurt, even in human hands. Bounding forewards, Mark tried to catch up with the other two. His shotgun twas thrown over his shoulder, dangling along with the rest of his equipment. He wouldn't make it, but if Issac didn't make it through, then he'd do his best by himself. Linda shouted encouragement, Mark moved faster, his legs strengthened by a friend in need.

Damn.
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Brian wasn’t yet in a raging inferno, the rage that he saw in Issac’s eyes he did not feel. No he was treading into new waters, his mind was cold calculating, and detached from the battle entirely. The rain of rubber bullets had yet to terrify him, the near miss sword slashes were just another factor. Up until this very moment Brian was more afraid for Raine’s reaction than the battle itself.

These boys were taking everything in, their absolute seriousness, was infectious. One solid blow from Brian could ruin everything they had put forward. Their goal was unclear, they wanted to put him down, that was obvious but the mix of lethal and non lethal means didn’t tell Brian what they truly wanted.

Brian’s flying punch still felt removed only whiffing at the air that Issac left behind in his quick retreat. Up into the stands of concrete and plush seats, tight quarters something Brian may have been interested in pushing, yet Issac was looking over the stone wall to his friend. The higher position offered Brian little in the way of knowing what was on the other side of his stone wall.

Brian placed is palm on the wall of earth, and he gripped a portion of the wall eager to find out how he could stop this latest attempt. Just as Issac shouted his declaration, and the muzzle flash rained pellets, Brian effortlessly shifted the wall from beside him to in front of him. Their teamwork clashed into a solid stone wall, again he halted their efforts. Yet Brian didn’t stop there, Issac could run into the wall for all he cared, the fresh open wall gave Brian an opening, rushing though the gap, his feet beating the soil. Mark would no doubt be slinging his shotgun, now knowing Brian was out in the open. Yet in the split seconds it took for Mark to know Brian had rushed though the wall. Brian’s foot collided with the ground and a soccer ball sized orb of stone kicked into the air in front of him.

Brian skidded to a halt as both hands thrust forward into the ball the first shattered it the second the Jukken spark that fired off roared though his arm and the blast was twice the size of the orb itself. The fractured stone rushed along like his, fired shotgun and the rain began as Brian stepped backwards and slammed up a pillar to fill the gap in the wall. If Issac wanted in he’d have to run around, or expose himself to the prospect of a blind leap over the wall.
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What the hell just happened? Issac stopped cold as Brian shifted the wall. Weird stuff happened, and powers were weirder than that. Damn, damn damn. This wasn't really such a thing as a wall jumping across like that. rage bled back into his mind, into his eyes. Red lightning crackled up his arm as Issac focused. He jumped sideways, and up, climbing on top of the wall. His empathy could track Brian on the other side, so he knew what was happening. No such thing as a blind drop here, folks. The devastation on the other side was obvious. Sheathing his sword, and pulling a knife free of its sheath. Get real close, real fast. Throwing himself forewards, Issac hit the ground, and began pounding after Brian, shouting in a rare battlecry. His voice rose to a roar as the knife was hurled ahead of the running empath. Eyes blazed red. He allowed the rage to take over.

This guy ran away. This guy was going down.

Mark found himself cut off from Issac, and he had a deadly ball of rock. Shoot. That was the answer. Letting the knives fall from his grasp. His arm ducked behind him, reaching for his shotgun and bringing it up. No time to shoulder the weapon, rather, he'd have to fire from the hip. Blindly pumping in a shell, Mark's shotgun coughed out a solid shell, and it rocketed through the shotgun blast of the jukken. The rock chips sliced through clothes and flesh, and the mercenary involuntarily shouted in pain. He was sure something had buried itself into his chest, and the burning pain on his left arm could only mean one thing.

Sharper bits of rock had gone right into him. The mercenary fell to the ground, and sucked in a breath to calm himself.

Issac heard the shout, and it caused an instant reaction. He immediately called his trump card, and shouted the command:

"Akken!"

Red lightning spat out of his palm and condensed into a jagged blade, the glass like shard resetting itself to the blade of anger that was so familiar these days with those who fought with Issac. The burning blade finally gained the almost liquid sheen to it. He swung the blade, and brought it down with a screaming roar, his entire being projecting anger and malice. It was a two handed chop, and it crushed the earth beneath it was Issac dug into the ground. He pulled it free, swinging the easily six foot blade over his shoulder. Running away was acceptable with these odds, but seriously injuring his friend? Pain, from the feedback coming from Mark was more than well felt. Damn, this was turning into a brawl, not a job.

In a growl that bled hatred, Issac opened his mouth. Blood red eyes tracked Brian's form, made all to clear by the active empathy. Pure anger, refined into a blade hefted up and pointed at Brian.
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Perhaps it was his confidence in his only recently mastered technique of Jukken shotgun, or the fact that he had seen the fiery eyed youth vault over his makeshift wall in a matter of moments after he had erected it. Brian turned his back on Mark without a second thought, both boys were dancing over the lines of logical killers and impassioned fighters.

They kept him guessing, only reacting, only defending, and never pressing the offensive. All Mr. Garcia had said was that this would be a test; his letter mentioned nothing about the sum of gold on Brian’s life. If he had Brian may have pressed his advantage, rocketed in while the boy summoned his weapon. Instead he waited. Listened to the word spoken Akken, then the red lightning arched out to create a jagged blade. Menacing and intense, Brian did not want to be on the receiving end of that, immediately back peddling away.

Issac’s swing was fast coming quick enough that it would be close but Brian was sure he would get away, yet the sound of a muzzle firing shattered that hope, his back felt it before his mind registered. A full blast of solid shot embedded itself into his back, the shot dug into the padded coat, pressing on his padded body. The shot forcing everything forward, everything into the liquid lightning slash that would sunder him in half. Brian kicked his legs into the ground and the earth cracked as Tlachtga’s roots smashed Brian into place between bullets and blades. Still that was not enough as the blade cut though him, gashing down his cheek, glancing over his collar, and straight down his chest severing his blue shirt in half before it crashed into the ground.

Brian’s breath hissed in as the thin slash down his body threatened to explode open from the raw power of the blade. His fur stitched as quickly as possible, closing the wounds before they would become life threatening. Brian felt fear, fear that he had just lost his life, and suddenly, center didn’t matter, Mr. Garcia didn’t matter, all these things that had stopped him from fighting, had been cut out of him.

Issac brought the blade back up, the intent in his eyes dared Brian to run. Yet the desire to survive forced Brian back, closer to Mark without intending it. The rooted chains cut as he took to his ground, held up his hands and balled up his fists. He internalized all of the Jukken he had manifested to this point, returning to his roots as the faint glow of purple rose off his body.

“I’m sorry, but we choose to be here.”
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Izzy
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They cut him, they hit him. Good, they were starting to deal damage, probably on a 'finally' note. Issac lunged foreward, his entire focus now on hurting the guy into incapacitation and getting Mark out of there. He left the anger burn in his body, the cumulation of that anger and hatred building up into a massive sideways slash. This guy, for whatever reason, had warranted a contract against him. Whatever had happened before was gone. Politics and power gambles were out of the window, and now it was just him and this thing, fighting for the life of his friend.

A quick stab at Brian's legs, and Issac twisted the blade flat, kicking the middle of the flat panel presented to him to rocket the blade up. He rushed foreward, his two hands white knuckle on his blade's handle as Issac swung back down. He let himself fall into the class of beserker: pure power and crushing strength. The heavy blade fell to earth again, smashing into the ground a few feet from Mark. He was conscious, just. It seemed that he had enough juice left in him to try and attack again, with the mercenary dragging himself away from the fight and towards the shotgun.

Pain, it was all there was. No, not true. There was still Issac, facing off against the guy who had just taken him down. Professional revenge burned into his mind, and Mark, quite frankly, remembered his Ghost Arms. The misty grey limbs slammed into the ground around him, hauling the mercenary to his feet. One retrieved the shotgun, rather clumsily, and the entire rig shook as Mark adjusted his position to aim. This would be nasty. He remembered that the last shell he loaded had been the last he had made for the Valentines Day ceremony, a blinding flare shot, used to illuminate battlefields.

Issac lashed out with his feet as the blade swept the air behind him, trying to push Brian against a wall, a pillar, something. The rage of this man having hurt his friend was more than enough, and he paused for a moment, his arm sweeping across and then suddenly down. He felt muscles strain for relaxation, lungs burn for air. But no, he had to end this, now. Other people might get hurt, other people might be involved. This person needed ending. Stopping all this. Issac felt the instinct consume him, and then the world was filled in a brilliant light as Mark's flare stabbed into the roof above them and ignited. It was designed to illuminate fields measured in square kilometers, not in meters. Also, ignition should be at about two-three hundred meters, not ten.

That would hurt, a lot. Especially someone's eyes.
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No more, last thought that ran though Brian’s mind as Issac rushed. Brian joined in the rush. Not content to stand and simply allow his opponent to determine the pace any longer. The attempt to cut off his leg Brian took a flying leap over. Brian’s body continue to move forward as he slapped his tail on the ground spinning his body into a horizontal spin just over the upwards slash Issac managed to pull off. Though the blade was jagged and twisted, Brian’s body could twist and move more than any gymnast.

Brian saw Issac’s hand shift to bring the sword back down, Brian kept his body moving though this cross slash. His hands gripped at the soil and pulled though to a handstand behind Issac’s back, the cross slash rolling out only earth before it. Brian didn’t hesitate once he had this advantage, his legs swung around as his back curled. His feet came down as smashing blows for his shoulders to blast down a Jukken blast though his chest. From this range Jukken would hemorrhage his organs.

His feet had not yet reached their target before the blinding light so intense and blinding it caused Brian physical pain, released the Jukken blast prematurely. The hit was not assured and the force of the Jukken blast flipped Brian over to his feet, his QCS memory prevented a nasty fall as his feet touched ground and the momentum kept him moving backwards. Yet Brian’s eyes didn’t care, his enhanced sight caught the full brunt of the blinding light reflecting though out his synapses and burning the images into his mind.

Brian retreated quickly, his eyes tightly sealed as he was temporarily blind. His feet were finding their footing just well enough as he dashed though the open arena doors. Following the chill wind outside till he felt it all around him, an open area. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to where he thought the arena doors still were. His face was not facing the arena, yet his ears twitched looking for pursuit. Though he was unsatisfied, he couldn’t retreat this boy had tried to kill him, a menace in living form. He only needed to be delayed, Brian’s hands raged with the red glow as energy orbs pumped out of his palms. Tightly knit these energy orbs became a mine field around Brian, basking him and the surrounding area in a red glow,

Brian wouldn’t let this go, he had come here for a stupid reason, but those two accepted whatever terms it was to take him down. They deserved everything they had received just like those before them. He wouldn’t leave till he saw this though, his safety was not an issue, he had to survive.

He fell into his old habits though there was no spear in his hands, the prepared position in the red light was unmistakable. He was holding Tlachtga in memory, poised to strike at a moments notice, should the minefield be disrupted.
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Izzy
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((new power, so it won't be on my profile. Check Ore no Kaen on the approved powers list. I'm going to edit it in... soon.))

He was taking the offensive, counterattacking? Fine with him, he'd just go cut the guy up. Issac rushed at him, and found no target. The guy was leaping up. Right then. Gripping the blade with both of his hands, he brought it up and down behind him, the rest of his body following the man as he jumped over him. The blade flashed as Issac twisted and swung at Brian, trying to keep him away. If the guy got too close, Ore no Ka wouldn't be any help.

Burn, just burn in my anger...

Hmm? Issac found his mind clear and return to the logic. There was something wrong about how he fought. It was too agressive. Shifting his weight, the bladesman regained his composure, began a whirlwind of blows. The sword switched from one hand to the other, both hands, then the left, then the right and then back to the left. Swinging from above, the side, and then a uppercut. Issac stepped forewards, his blade strokes found nothing. Where was he?

Searching with his empathy, Issac found it: behind.

He was preparing an attack. Issac held Ore no Ka protectively, holding it in front of his chest and getting ready for the pain. Anger and fear mixed, dulling the blade, weakening its container. To say the least, it expanded. So did the Jukken blast, which was a lot faster than the blade's slow growth. The blast knocked Issac back, but the way he held his blade protected his chest and the lower part of his face. The rest, however, got a good blast from the explosion.

Issac was knocked back, his sword shimmering from the disruption.

Burn, burn, burn!

He attacked again, stabbing forth, swinging back and forth and then down. The blade crackled. Issac knew something was beginning to change to the blade. Damn, what was it now!? He lashed out with his feet, his short wakizashi blade in his left hand following behind as Ore no Ka went crazy. It was shrinking, but the anger still remained. Issac concentrated, as the burning continued. The bandages around his arm singed and blackened, some strands caught alight. The blade compacted, fell into itself.

Burn...

"YAKERU!"

A cry of rage focused his mind, the sword sharpened and settled. Issac admired his weapon carefully, it was almost like his katana. Just... it felt lighter, more powerful. It was sharper, too, by the looks of the blade. The blade compacted into itself, and Issac felt the burning disappear. Huh? Well, this new weapon will burn his enemies. Issac turned back to Brian, his blade leaking anger more than the other one. The empath sheathed his secondary weapon, and held his new one tentatively in both hands.

He could feel anger radiate like heat from the blade. Mark still was there, he was wounded. Brian had backed off into the distance. Issac looked around. The stands reached all the way to the entrance. He could use them. Issac sprinted off, his feet clapping onto the ground as he shot off to flank Brian. Mark's pain receded as his Ghost Arms sprung back to life and hauled him to his feet. The shotgun was used as a glorified walking stick, and the Marauder looked on as the new blade flashed through the air. Issac had cut right through a metal tube. Wow, that thing was sharp. He looked out. Minefield!

Time to end this, fast.
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The wind howled outside of the arena, Brian had thought the cool air might do something for the growing pressure in his mind. Brian’s eyes were tightly shut, slowly burning as the tears that fell though his sealed eyelids, made show of the recovery his eyes so badly needed. Brian felt himself eroding away from this place; these tears were growing milky white.

Issac’s new weapon pumped out all the empathic rage that its wielder felt. Channeled right back at Brian, for he was it’s target. This rage was taken, and made apart of him without question. Brian’s lips pressed until they turned white, the energy orbs all around him began to resonate deeper, as if beacons to Brian’s emotional state. For as his rage built, and the rage was channeled, the light red orbs burned on into deep reds.

The spinning energy orbs speed up, shifting direction as their minefield of energy encompassed all of Brian’s awareness. Then one bit of his swirling emotions were burst, one energy orb stricken, and on a physical level it was nothing but a light pinch. To Brian’s mind it was a water balloon of emotion that had just popped and all that focused hate poured on his brain.

Brian erupted with a shout, in the center of his madness he turned to where the orb had been broken, the motion of the orbs was constant always circling and Brian felt himself shift his weight back roll the imagined spear in his arms down across the ground. Like a rising fan solid poles broke the surface of the earth around his feet. Brian twirled the spear in his hands and the earth broke giving each pole a deadly spearhead. Brian’s hands separated the spear as his roar came from a place deep within.

He knew exactly where emotion had burst, and though he could not see as his arms lashed forward in the center of his madness, their path was determined as they split more of the energy orbs. More of the overwhelming emotion poured back into Brian. His logical mind was drowning as the image of skewering whoever had entered his minefield caused a dark pulse to wrap around his lips.

His fur began to pollute with the darkness within it. The milky tears hardened on his face with each pass, they spread slowly. Brian spun back to his starting defensive position after the volley had thrown, feeling for the next broken orb, the gap in conscious control. Feeling for where the next lethal blow could be thrown.
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KimJi-yeon
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sugar spice and everything nice!

Maybe we could live in a world, where everything in it is beautiful.
Too beautiful to destroy, and too perfect for any violence to matter.
Over the rainbow, we should go...

Over that rainbow…

“But a rainbow… appears only after the rain.” Yang mused to herself, tearing away from the day-time fireworks and hopped down the stone steps leading towards the arena.
Sheep shook her head.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t a rainbow.

~
She arrived just as a red blur burst out of the arena doors. But the intense force of an emerging red orb knocked her off her feet before she could even usher the name, Brian. Her knees were brought to the ground, she couldn’t believe what she was witnessing - injured eyes widened as her face grew pale.

To be honest, it really hurt her to see these three, whom she’d grown such significant bonds with, emerge from such a vicious brawl. One had saved her eyesight. The other, she had the world’s biggest crush on. And the last, had been the father of person Yang had become. What had happened to cause this? Or were they nothing more than blood thirsty animals…

She watched him bring forth deadly spears from the ground.
“Stop this...” Her voice barely croaked the sound as it disappeared in her broken whisper. Choking on a heavy feeling of grief in her chest, she would plead breathlessly.
Something horrible was happening to him.
“Stop, please stop.” She bit her bottom lip to hold back the tears.
He was also crying tears – though, they were birthing a dark mask which Brian’s face was disappearing away. Her mouth pursed and before she could hold back her tongue, she cried out, voice rasping against the heat of their battle.
“SENSEI!!! DON’T LEAVE US!” Her hands leapt to her mouth, but they were too slow to catch the phrasing as it left her.
It was too late to speak the words anyway.

She stood up.
This was new for Yang, as she usually ran away from battles, and not to them. The orbs that circled him punched and battered her as she tried to get closer to Brian. The emotion continued to burst and leak around them as Yang’s actions added fuel to his flame. But what seemed most important to her was reaching the eye of the storm, within the spiracle cage Brian had created. The fragment of their training told her how Brian’s orbs could be sent flying the way they came – but heaving away his emotion and strength took away too much.
Yang’s little lantern was struggling against rage’s storm.


Yang was losing hope, convinced that there was no way to reach him before the darkness consumed him.
“Mark-senpai and Issac-san are just students…” She begged, her face scrunching. The radius around them was burning deep red. Yang stood furthest away from Mark and Issac, on the opposite side of Brian. And though her mind was frantic, she slowly edged closer to the mine orb. Her small hands crept towards her chest, wisping softly with a green glow, they closed in onto the orb soaring at her.
Soapy hands could hold delicate bubbles, and as soon as she realized this, her gifted finger tips were collecting the mines as they came.
She met the absent gaze of a stranger behind the bars, and all she could hope for was that Brian was still there, somewhere behind the mask.

“Wake up Sensei! Don’t you remember your own teachings?”
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Izzy
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Mark was in pain.

He could feel that several of the jukken rock chips had buried themselves into his body. Every time he moved, they tore and scraped flesh. Several parts of his body felt like they were coated with acid. More felt like they were on fire. Still, he struggled on his feet to move closer to the action. Adrenaline kicked in, and his movements changed from being jerky and rust-jointed to a more desperate and more or less normal gait. He favored a leg, he also had a shotgun held weakly in his arms.

What was happening? Issac was advancing, ignoring any more tactics and substituting it with speed to keep himself from having to touch the mines. His long, slender blade flashed as he cut some mines that he had to deal with. The explosions were almost none, Issac barely broke his pace as he raced forward. As Mark caught up, Linda swore from her sniper's post.

"MARK! ITS YANG! SHE'S HERE!"

Brian crafted his spears, and Issac could see their trajectories as he threw them. His sword reacted almost with his mind. His body jinked right, the sword slashing down the entire length of a pole. The flat of the blade slammed into another, turning the massive spear away from him. Flesh tore as another spear sheared through his left sleeve, cutting off his sleeve knife and cutting through his flesh. There was one more spear, right at his chest. Issac cut down and to his left, slicing down with the blunt edge. The spear was, quite frankly, smashed out of the air.

Burning red eyes fell on the cloaked figure.

Then they wandered as another figure entered the arena.

The vestigial remains of Issac's empathy registered shock, horror and a clunking realization as she found that there was a clashing in a more than serious battle. Her face flashed into his mind, and he also remembered another person. Black hair, almost golden eyes. Yang. Now she had short cropped hair and was white, going on blond. And... her eyes were what Issac considered to be close to tears. But he didn't know what this man had fathered her new self.

Issac screamed. So did Mark. A warning in two languages.

"YANG! GET OUT OF HERE!"

Mark brought up his shotgun, all pain evaporated with Yang's prescence. One handed shot, supported by a Ghost Arm. The sights zeroed in on Brian's chest, and the shotgun roared out as the shell spat out of the barrel. Loading with a blur, Mark threw himself forward and landed with his Ghost Arms. Scuttling forward like a spider, he spat out another shell. Mark needed to end this, fa-

The third shell was thrown wide as Yang rushed forward, braving the minefield as she called sensei. This was Brian... he who gave Yang her sapphire... what had he done!?

"ISSAC! STOP!"

Only his friend's words stopped him. Issac paused in mid stride, all of his restraint holding down his actions. Yang was so close to Brian. There was no way he was going to act now. Slashing at Brian, from any angle, would kill Yang as well. No Marauder's or any amount of money would take him from attacking a friend. She wasn't his best, but she was still a person he had known, and had given him her time and attention, once upon a time...

Mark staggered to a stop, his shotgun lay cradled in his lap. It wasn't pointing at anything. His eyes watered from the pain, and only his Ghost Arms stopped him from falling. Damn, damn, damn... He looked up, looking at Yang and her teacher. Mr. Garcia had called this man a murderer, a problem to be killed. But it was Yang's teacher... quite frankly, he trusted her judgement better than Garcia's. Linda spoke into his earpiece. Mark answered her in German.

"Terminate the contract. Mr. Garcia has mis-identified our subject..."

Issac heard every word. He threw his sword into the ground, and it sizzled as the blade dissolved. Looking up at Brian and Yang, his eyes returning back to their normal brown color, albeit with a hint of blood. But that was the bloodshot eyes, strained from over-stimulation. The bandaging and hand of his right arm was visibly charred, cuts and lacerations decorated all their bodies like tattoos. Issac still remained in a defensive stance, and looked at Yang. Mark dropped to one knee, his still-functional arm cradling his left arm with visible pain. Of all three, he had to be the one with the most injuries.

"Stop. Everyone stop... Yang, who is this guy?"
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The orbs were being destroyed at a machine gun rate, the small pops were meaningless to the two people invading his space. Yet as each rage filled orb was taken from Brian’s web of control, they added to the drowning emotion in his mind, turning his clouded mind of risk and consequence into a single focus. Brian felt another enter his awareness, smaller than Issac, and not nearly as fast. Brian remembered Mark, even though he had seemed down and bleeding out, Brian was unwilling to expose himself to more bullets. The earth cracked behind him, raising a small bit as his roots took hold.

Just as Brian was going to act the voice of the new invader reached his ears. Yang was begging him to stop. Pleading as she put herself to risk and charged him, Brian’s hand hesitated to move from its gripped position. Yang called them students, told him to remember his teachings. Brian turned to her, his heart beating thousands of times fearing for his life as the mask manifested over his mouth from the tears.

Brian’s mouth opened and then he felt more orbs burst, his mind caught how fast it was moving though the orbs. The solid shot fired for him was unmistakable as Brian’s arm did the only thing that came to his mind. Rather than pull the ready wall to him, Brian threw his arm out, the wall rose and wrapped around yang’s general area. When the shot hit, Brian’s eyes snapped open his scream was silent as everything that was held back beneath his eyes exploded out over his face.

These bullets hit him square on, tearing into his open jacket, pulling at his flesh and causing his body to fly back. His arm wrenched in the air as he snagged on the earthen wall he was still attached to. His chest wound reopened pouring blood out before yang as his silent scream burst blood out of his mask. This time as his fur closed the wound it turned black, and the mask had consumed him completely. Yang’s plea for him to awaken was realized, yet this awakening was not of the Sensei she hoped for. Brian’s eyes were dark, coated with pain as the blood dripped between the white teeth of the mask.

The black fur soaked away the red, each second that ticked by in his drowning rage was a second his body took to adjust to the nature of his soul. His collar began to spark crackle and spike with purple electricity. Immediately Brian’s hand ripped at the collar and the electricity surged stronger, his hand smoked as the smell of burnt fur rose off his hand as it fell back to his side. His eyes were reopened, recovered from the blinding light by the pools of tears that had left his eyes.

Brian didn’t see these men as students; no they had made a choice to come after him. Yang called for him to remember his teachings, and these people were the reason they existed. Yang would find no comfort from him as his eyes looked back over the pair, as the blood dripped into the ground. Knowing that they should die, in an instant he was gone and rushing at Issac before the blade could touch the ground.

Brian’s face reached Issac before the trail left by his collar could catch up. The request of who he was had crossed his ears as he had closed the short distance between them. Who was he? Certainly no longer Brian Ronin, graduate of AHS, Tournament semi finalist, Chimera Rebel, Keeper of Dragoons earthen shadow. The answer was a pointed final statement.

“I am your executioner.”

The purple fire flashed behind the skeletal mask as his hands shot back and combined, this technique had been used on Teo Minaminnow, Brian’s hands shot forward as both palms combined in force to fire a duel palm Jukken blast, it’s size far out stepped anything he had fired yet, and his body didn’t wait for the energy to clear, it was but a drop of energy to his ocean in reserve.

Brian’s spring back sent roots into the soil as his arms touched the earth with one hand he forced the soil down and up behind him. Creating a tall pole, which Brian sprung up onto lashing with his tail as two columns of stone dragged up with his arms. Flipping up into the air Brian was hovering for a moment as he released the columns in the air and cut his hands though the stone in chunks, each chunk would fall by the pull of gravity until they reached his feet, where his feet would set them off just like all the bullets that had been fired at him. Explosion after explosion rained down peppered stone all around him, His disregard for life was matched now only by the intentional placement of the stone wall and Yang. Brian’s feet landed on the top of the pole, breathing heavy as more blood seeped out of the mask. Searching for his pray.
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Moments before the battle, on the opposite side of the Arena

"I could ask why you are doing this, or why you chose me to help you do this... but I would much rather stick to the probabilities of what the answers are then have you actually tell me. If you could answer one question though, why bring out the Gallant armor?" Kazura's violet eyes looked Trinis over carefully while identifying every single weak point of the armor. "With how little you've been sleeping lately, pushing yourself back into combat shape like this is not wise."

Trinis managed to stand back up, just the warm up sparing exercise with Kazura had been murder. Worse yet, the cyborg claimed he was going at half speed! "I'm wearing- This stupid armor- because-" He forced himself to take in new oxygen after almost every word, "Summoning Harmony requires it to think I'm bringing peace."

"So that's how you beat Aaron? You blinded him?" Kazura was genuinely interested due to Trinis talking to absolutely no one about how he, a teenage swordsman, had defeated a full bloodied full powered Avian. If the Gallant did what Kazura was assuming it to do, that meant Trinis had forced Aaron to fight in a way almost no Avian could. They were dependent on empathy, that race practically bled empathy.

The young Brit managed to give a cocky smile through his pain. "Yeah, not too cool is it? That's why I didn't tell anyone. Wouldn't have made a good story, you know?"

Kazura was about to say something pertaining to stories when a rather brilliant flash irrupted from the arena. "That's not right... That light is metal based burn instead of gun powder radiance or spiritual energy. And; do you feel that? It is like a sort of budding rage building inside me, leaking into me from the all around...." Those violet eyes were useful for more than just scoring a girlfriend you know. Right now though, Kazura was worried. Since getting Alara back no one had actually managed to make him angry. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be angry, until his system recognized the wrench in his stomach.

Trinis was already running toward the arena by the time Kazura had finished his sentence.

As the combatants exited the first arena

Technically, running would no longer be the accuracy of what Trinis was doing. Though he was not a bad runner, the sprint had merely been to build up some momentum before take off. It was not exactly a cake walk to alter one's own energies to be pushed against the world, and frankly it was quite better to already be going in the direction one needed to upon activation of the ability. His mind focused, making sure to think of how pissed he was going to be if Lupis was around (they had a history of accidents occurring while they stood in the same room). It was a silly thing to be angry at, but it made the flip so much easier. His right foot pushed off from the ground one last time in perfect unison with his internal realignment, causing his body to flow up into the air and hold no fear of gravity. Acceleration continued, and velocity was increased to essentially fly up and over the arena itself. He wanted to pray for things to work smoothly, yet praying would probably disrupt the energy flip and send him hurdling back toward earth. So for now, Trinis stayed angry at the concepts of Lupis and empaths. If he only knew how bad it was making Brian suffer...

Alas for Mark and Issac, Trinis saw them from his temporary sky high terrace. He played witness to their final attacks, the ones that started to drive Brian's fur to a black color. In a moment of regret and fear, everything that had happened so long ago came back to him. That black fur... soon the mask would enclose the face, and then all hell would break loose. Frankly he was perfectly content to let that be the fate of Mark and Isaac, right up until he heard her scream.

“Wake up Sensei! Don’t you remember your own teachings?”

The forest... That's the girl from the trolls! Oh God, Brian doesn't discriminate friend from foe in this form, he just attacks with full strength! The whole trick to this would be landing down in time to rescue Yang without managing to seem like he was blocking Isaac and Mark from the Reaper's path. That thing only confirmed his fears, taking more attacks and then calling itself their executioner. Trinis was closing in on Yang now, determined before the dust hit to save her...

He didn't have too. This was clearly different from the Reaper form he had met on the mountain. That Reaper had almost managed to wipe out five or more students just to kill one spirit. This time, Yang was behind a wall of protection, activated just before the black chimera unleashed an unholy blast of Jukken energy across his own mine field. He did not know for sure if Mark or Isaac could survive that, nor did he frankly care. As the dust of the attack settled and Brian began seeking his opponents anew, Trinis's body literally almost fell from the sky.

He at least managed to land on his feet without breaking anything. His eyes blinked, coming out of the weird trance required for that energy reversal was not trivial. He blinked again. The black fur, the skeleton mask... last time he had been absolutely powerless against this creature. Last time it had arose due to the pain and frustration riddled within Brian's body, hopelessness mixed with burning anger. Teo had once told Trinis about Brian's telepathic weakness, it was something like a super absorbent cloth to those whom could project their emotions. If Kazura had felt anger and rage from clear on the other side of the arena....

"Brian."

He called out to the Reaper and Brian as one, figuring they were truly now one person. He was going to have to attempt at something he felt ill prepared to do, yet it had to be done. "Brian, hear me. This rage that you have all built up, this killer instinct... It has been forced upon you. One of those two leaked empathic feelings into you, making you their puppet toward their own destruction..."

To say that Trinis was pissed off about this would be an understatement. They had manipulated his ally, his friend, made him into something he was not. There was only one possible cure for this, one possible way to make sure that Brian did not awaken to a field of death. "Let me take out what they forced into you Brian. Let me draw out their poisonous rage, and if you still wish to kill them, I will not stand in your way. But make certain it is your rage that you strike them with, not their own manipulations."

His own anger raised to such levels that the Wrath of Daedalus almost took him skyward, and his red cape fluttered. What they had done here and today was just as bad as when Teo had raped Brian's soul. The difference was Teo had been repentant about it, truly sorry despite how clueless he was. Trinis had long ago promised to watch over Brian, to find some way to protect him if need be. Was that why he felt no fear, facing the Reaper now? He and Brian, they were both beyond man, monster, God and Devil in their own right. It was time to test these waters, time to strike the hot iron.

His hands held themselves out stretched horizontally from his shoulders, he let his own energy flow out through the arena around them. In an instant, crystal blue blades appeared in each of his hand, a golden sword guard emerging upon each as four golden wings. Yes, he had brought Harmony, the sword that was ever the opposite of Issac's in order to counter what they had done. Summoning these blades would not be a threat toward the Reaper because these blades could not kill. The plea had not been in hopes that the Reaper would simply lay down arms and wait for this, Trinis had only given that plea because he genuinely did care about Brian. Despite their problems, despite how little they knew of each other, Brian had given Trinis his start at AHS. On that day up at the mountain, the Brit could not do a damned thing to save him. Today would be different.

His charge started easily enough. Just a simple forward running motion with arms outstretched and blue blades shining through the strange lights. It was not just a simple charge though, for upon closing halfway in to Brian Trinis kicked in all that anger to flip his energies, propelling him along the ground and accelerating his speed far beyond what Brain had ever seen him capable of. The Swords were brought to a forward charging point, drawn directly to The Reaper's bloodied black abdomen. Honestly though, this was not the true attack. Trinis had watched Brian enough to know that something so simple and predictable, no matter what the speed, would simply be deflected by superior strength. That was why his wrath poured toward the earth and sent him skyward within six feet of Brian, and his body and blades shifted. Legs curled up toward the abdomen, Harmony's blades now pointed down toward directly overhead of the Reaper. Without any sort of delay, Trinis again flipped his energies, this time using not just gravity but the pull of earth itself to bring both blades of Harmony straight down upon the white skull that had covered his friend.

One thing was for certain. This collision would be the start of a whole new chapter, no matter what the results were.
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KimJi-yeon
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sugar spice and everything nice!

I am your executioner.
It was as if there were two different voices speaking simultaneously – each one carrying a different message to each of us.

I heard him.
~
Yang rested her head on the earthen wall, listening to the battle rage on over the other side. Red radiance from his rage in her palms glowed softly onto her face, though it was blank and unresponsive as if caught in a dream.

How could he do it?

“Mark...” Her voice was soundless.

Even with her standing right there.

“How could you have…?”

Pulled the trigger? For the first time since she’d discovered his profession Yang really saw Mark Hamilton as the cold blooded killer he was raised to be.

But an explosion would shake the arena, sending a wave of dreadful shards over-head, over-right and over-left.
“NO!” This wasn’t the right way, she cried out. Yang found herself pressed hard against the wall, and as she crept over to steal a peek over the other side, she would almost fall over backwards - she staggered to regain her composure, and her loose hold of the collected rage orb.
Just as she was beginning to understand she had been saved by her hero, Brian-sensei, the shocking appearance of a strange, twist and horrid monster perched and menacing, would spread realization across her youthful features.

Xiao Yang had not been saved, no, she had been spared.
Spared by whatever shred of that terrifying creature that was still Brian. Her fawn-like legs were scraped with probably a bruise or two stirring, but she staggered forward regardless. She saw pools of blood without trails, and shock/horror would register for her to find her friends immediately. But the monster was brooding and Yang couldn’t tear her gaze away from the blood gushing from his mouth – Brian’s mouth.

Or was Brian gone too? Or perhaps he had been gone for a long time already.
Maybe the only thing that was keeping him alive in her core was the memories she held of him. She wanted to shout out some vague form of rage or abuse, hoping that chasing away this fiend would be that simple - but either fear or despair held her tongue. She instead stared, long and hard into the pitch black darkness that he had become, searching for an answer or perhaps a voice of some kind, something or anything to comfort her.

“What happened…?”
What happened to you? What happened to us all?
But she would find nothing.
A large cry rang through the bitter air, brave and proud. And Yang had only known this one battle cry to belong to one valiant red caped knight. It was enough to shake her out of her stunned shock. She only realised her eyes were wet from tears, when she saw that the Red-knight was going to slay the beast, just as he had done with the trolls.

Yang had no idea that when the time would come for her to exercise everything that she had learnt from him, Brian’s gift of hidden power, all she could do was stand and watch and let the murder happen.

Should she have found Issac? Or maybe sent sense into Mark? Saved them by sending them away from their destroyer. She should have done something, but instead she did nothing.
I am your executioner.
The growl echoed in her mind.


Yang heard it clearly. And today each man here today whom she had held place in her heart for was suddenly shattered. No more rescuers, no more teachers, no more people to care about. Even the wide-eyed innocence that was Hua Xiao Yang, too, would be murdered on this day.

Gone.
All that was left was the executioners.
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FlameDarkfire
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Wrrrrrrrrr
[ *  *  * ]
There was one rule he followed religiously, one rule that, above all else, he refused to break. One rule that was so binding that even now he was dragging his partner in crime into a plot that should never involve them.

Nobody died who could be helped.

Nobody would die this day.

As explosions began to rock the arena's battlefield and the surrounding area, two, well one, figure and what looked like a cloud were seen briefly, and then were gone. Not that they left, just that they were moving at an incredible rate. Flame was kicking it into overdrive with his Oni Mask on, pushing the demonic alter-ego to its limits. He had fire in the white pits of his eyes, now focused only on rescuing the friend that the Oni demon knew nothing about.

Hiro was zipping along as Nimbus, the lovable little cloud that transported Goku through much of Dragonball and Dragonball Z. Not that he liked that show or anything, he just didn't think an F-16 would be appropriate. Flame was making him rescue some pointless humans from a pointless fight. Whoop-tee-fucking-doo. He'd rather have a clean flesh wound.

With explosions all around Oni Flame impacted Issac, grabbing him and picking him up without any reduction in forward motion. He continued forward, focused on reaching the safety of the stands as he dodged and weaved through the deadly field of fire. Almost at the same time Hiro shot past Mark, knocking him onto the solid-ish back of his Nimbus form, and continuing forward. The two rescuers finally made it to the spectator divider and hopped it, continuing up the stairs until they were inside the building.

Flame had to keep himself from returning to the fight after he set Issac down, instead pulling at the edges of his face until there was a flash of light and he was himself again, holding the Oni Mask in his hands. He was breathing hard, like he had just run a couple miles, as he sat down against a column to rest.
"Note to self: don't try and overclock with the Oni Mask. Wears me out more," he muttered as Hiro, now in his human form, walked over to check on him.

"We'll need to get out of here, I don't think that new idiot can hold that guy off for long," Hiro commented.
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Izzy
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AKA Vinny

His... executioner?

"Oh hell no..."

Issac's defensive powers activated to the next call word. The grey shield was enough, barely. The empath poured all his fear, all his emotion into that shimmering shield. He dropped to his knees, holding the shield at an angle to lessen the power of the attacks. Brian's blows were ferocious, and Issac felt his own anger in that attack. The guy must have taken his own anger. How stupid had he been!? Issac gritted his teeth. The blows rained down on him, throwing him off his feet. The shield came out convex, his arm probably broken, and it was already fading. Issac steeled himself, and the shield came back up, defying Brian's first assault. One solid hit had practically shattered it, and probably his arm, too. Issac didn't feel anymore, his eyes burning orange. Danger. He was afraid, he wouldn't admit that.

Damn, damn... Mark struggled against every wound, every pulled muscle. He had barely any idea on what was going on, who was against who, where the attacks were coming from. Even his Ghost Arms were beginning to fail, the eight legged fighter staggered like a punch drunk. He stumbled, but adrenaline kept him on his feet. His weak fingers scrabbled for his shotgun, finding the familiar grip comforting in the storm of pain. He brought it up, then his feet began to work. Aided by his willpower turned solid, Mark began to put one foot in front of the other. He began to step those ten meters. Protect Yang. That had become his objective. The mercenary felt ashamed, that he had attacked someone who was so highly regarded by Yang. He could almost feel her blaming him.

Then something teased his senses, and he felt something behind him. Mark didn't know about this, so when he found the nimbus knock off crashing into him, he kicked up with his legs, throwing himself over the cloud as he didn't want to touch it. Everything was an enemy, and he brought himself up to his feet again. Dragging his body over to Yang, he recalled his judgment and stood where he was, challenging the new arrival. He couldn't risk Yang by being close to her. It was bad enough that he was injured, he didn't want her to be as well. Then again, Brian didn't seem to want anything to do with her. He had left her alone, shielded her. Mark began to scamper away, maybe not being with her was a better idea. He raised his shotgun, but his finger didn't squeeze nine pounds. Mark had screwed up, badly. This was going to pay for his mistake.

Oh, as for Issac?

He was carried off, struggling to get back and grab Mark. Issac roared defiance as he was taken, bodily and not too gently, by a familiar feeling. Flame. "Get Mark! I'm not the one you need to carry off!" As soon as he was set down, Issac grabbed his wakizashi, pulled it free of its sheath and hauled himself up, running back to find Mark. He didn't want for this to happen. Damn it! Continuing along the stairs, the empath hurried, rushing back to re-join the fight. Save Mark. Save Yang. Stop Brian. Damn, this whole thing was one big screw up, from the first shot. They had been assigned to take down a murderer, some criminal who belonged in H-Block. Not this man. He knew now that the person that they were attacking wasn't even going full power against them. He had only splashed water at them while they had been going full in.

For goodness sake, they were in deep shit.
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Black smoke, this dead earth rising around the black furred chimera, casting shadows there, where there was none before. Concealing his eyes, though they searched with hunger for the kill, his raw chest burning for every breath he took. The chill night shifted, new air rushed in blowing around the black form on its one foot stand.

Shadowed by the bleak night figures moved though the stars, almost invisible as they approached the red lit arena. First one form, falling though the smoke and landing on earth, gazing up as he became apart of the red tint that had once blanketed this field. Brian heard the call and his face turned but no eyes locked with Trinis. His body remained searching as the air continued to shift.

The blood fell slowly, dripping out as if it would never stop; drip by drip the blood fell from his lips. Flowed over the horrific mask and fell to the earth. Staring without and end at Trinis as if he couldn’t deny Trinis’ proclamation. The red knight the only scrap of red left on the battlefield stole Brian’s gaze, stole it as though the darkness and murk of the unsettled earth two more beings blotted out stars, stole though the purple Jukken, risked their lives from thousands of shards of rock that had embedded itself all over the ground.

Stealing away one of Brian’s targets, as Brian hashed out his voice a long rasp as Trinis begged to take the poison from his body. Trinis wouldn’t wait for a response as his armor caught the moonlight and took on the aspect of the lit orbs. Basking Brian in red again, red overlaying the darkest blacks, as Trinis flew to his opportune position.

Brian did not move, didn’t show signs of hesitation, if trust could be found in the mask of horror perhaps Trinis saw it as he brought his blades down. Both blades carried so fast, as the reaper looked up, the blades going straight for his head. He’d be impaled for sure with no where to go from his small ledge. Yet Brian moved at the precise moment that his skull would have been pierced. The blades’ goal shifted, lower his spine lower still at the collar of his coat. His head snapped still looking dead into Trinis’ face as the mask was just about to make smashing contact with Trinis’ face the blades pierced though ethereally.

Brian felt instantly his coat providing no defense, the coldness of crystal was injected into his body. Its clarity sheared though his body, a fatal wound if a normal blade had so cleanly pierced a armor that could not be pierced. The mask cracked splintering as the forehead portion was shattered. Beneath Brian’s eyes could suddenly be seen in the mere inches between them. For one solitary moment recognition crossed Brian’s face, with it fear echoed deep in his eyes as the heated moment was broken.

It hurt to feel this way to be so angry at the world. Brian hated what he became when he lost all sense of self and became madness without end. His body ached and yet he did not feel pain, his mind screamed and yet he could find clarity in the kill. Yet focus came and in that reverence where one man was gone obliterated by the rock and blood, one remained and his shotgun aim was as ever true. Yet the shot hadn’t come, everything moving so fast Brian didn’t comprehend that he had not fired.

Instead he saw Yang below them, the last red light that concentrated orbs of hate she had so innocently collected. Where all else had been purged to harmonies clarity, Yang held the last of it. With danger looming and Brian’s heart lost to the mix of fiery panic and chill clarity of a fatal wound, the mask threatened to fall off. So the orb swirled with muddy colors, the red drained away and filled with a crystal blue brighter than any energy orb anyone could have seen.

Brian felt the growl before it uttered from his throat, the lost portion of mask sealed quickly. This new mask, etched deeper with the blood red ornate symbols. The new mask was all that Trinis would see before Brian’s body fell. The stone pillar he had stood on shot back into the earth. Brian landed drastically close to Yang his black fur was now washed in the blue bulbous light that she carried as he looked at her for only a moment.

Brian’s body seemed to reject this light as his body shook and his shoulders pillowed with energy. A Large force of Jukken energy erupted from his back into the air to drive Trinis far away. As his feet were steady for the shot coming Brian his feet tearing apart the earth beneath the surface, readying useable portions beneath the ground they all relied on.
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For once, the sarcastic part of his mind remained absolutely silent. The choice to drive those blades straight down toward the Reaper's mask had been a choice against life and death. Effectively, Trinis barely knew how to use Harmony to the full extent. That was why he had come here with Kazura to train. Now though, it would prove to be the fatal flaw of his attack. The piercing edge of Harmony was growing so close, it was like watching an event happen in slow motion... two feet became mere inches, but those inches were the very crawl that he started to experience. It was at this point he knew that the attack had failed. Though he could not break from the commitment of the brutal downward strike, that much time would be too much for the chimera he was fighting. His teeth prepared to grind harder than ever as the white skull not only moved, but rotated with the entire body to grow uncomfortably close to the resulting strike.

A hit?

The impact of red upon black could be called fierce by loose definitions of the term. Though Trinis had fully anticipated the Reaper completely dodging the attack, his blades had pierced ethereally through the lower back and into the very soul. As if that wasn't enough of a shock, the blow produced no reverberations throughout his own body. The Wrath of Daedalus triggered through his body again, flipping gravity just before he managed to crash through Brian and through the earth. As he did this, the bone mask began to split. For an instant, Trinis allowed himself a hope of success. Again time seemed to all but stop as chips and pieces of the upper mask broke apart, revealing the soul within. Brian was indeed still in there, that much the eyes instantly told him. Behind all that hate was fear, how perfectly ironic for the situation he had been enduring.

But the Reaper was not finished. Hate, though wounded, had yet to be severed from him in the way required to break the Reaper entirely away from Brian. The pillar continued falling toward the eeriest of red lights, but in an instant the color of light changed to the crystal glow of Trinis's own blades. A shocked expression of betrayal crossed his face as that deep bellow worked its way up and out of the Reaper's throat. A realization that this was a useless continuation made Trinis flipped his own gravity just in time to witness the full face of the Reaper reform with new terrifying red lights. Hatred wanted its vengeance, and Trinis was damned for attempting to stop it. As it was, the Reaper also wanted to put some distance between them, the Pillar began to lower itself back to the earth with a speed that matched the ferocity of the Reaper. It not terribly difficult to guess what was coming next...

Thankfully the Earth and sky are considerably larger than a man with the ability to alter his relationship to gravity. On a simple plain, that would have been just up and down motions, but with the earth and sky around him it was all too easy to push to the side and begin a clockwise rotational dodge of the purple blast thrown up at him. The sheer force of the rotation was incredible enough of a feeling that the body and heart of a sword master instantly knew what to do next before the mind could calculate it out. The purple laced energy blast past him as a near miss, coming closest to the red mantle of the Gallant armor.

The rotation did not stop. On the contrary, Brian's incomplete dodge meant that the Reaper had underestimated the speed of Trinis's attack. It would now be expecting him to play at that level, but Trinis was going to far surpass it with his next attack. His own energies kept flipping back and forth against earth and sky, pulling that counterclockwise motion up and around faster and faster. While gravity alone would have eventually carried him down, his heart set on again striking Brian with everything he could muster, and his energies obeyed. The rotational pattern was already proving to be an enormous G-force creator, and thusly Trinis was unable to continually flip only the rotational energies. He shifted against the earth sideways, against the sky sideways, and the against the sky again from an upward angle. Thinking about it would have taken hours, but the actual act took barely two seconds from when Brian shot the blast.

It was no longer a mere swordsman descending upon the Reaper, it was a crimson cyclone moving with such furious speed that it nearly quadrupled the speed of his previous attack. The red mantle flowed around his body with the forces he was creating, in effect enlarge the very look of that cyclone. At long last, the left arm wielding Harmony was ready to be extended and make its strike. He would not allow for hatred to control Brian, he would not allow that fearful look to be the last he saw of his friend. Darkness had whispered to him in its own true fashions, but friendship was above all a choice. No matter how poor of friends they were toward each other, Trinis had cemented his will to have Brian as a friend.

I will save you from this.

Dedication above all it what is required to land a fundamental attack. Trinis's last rotation brought his body directly above the Reaper in another face to face instant. This time, it was Trinis's eyes with the novel ingrained. Raw determination without anger, without fear of what was going to happen to his own body because of this attack. If eyes could speak, then Trinis's blue gray irises would have told the Brian he knew not to fear anymore. Though the look was strikingly important, what was more important was that all the centripetal force Trinis had created carried out the left arm and the Blade of Harmony in a perfect straight striking motion directly toward the center of the Reaper's skull mask. The blade carried a speed and power behind it so great that the muscles in his arm were already ripping from the mere force of the extension. If the strike did land, it carried with it a power that would be all but fatal to his left arm.
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KimJi-yeon
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sugar spice and everything nice!

ooc:|| Last post from me : )


If things were different. . .
If the world was a better place,
We could live in happiness, with those we love.

"Lets be reborn," I said. Didn't know any better.
"Lets die now," I said. Looking away from his body.
"Over the rainbow." I said.

Eternal Sunshine waits for us.

~

She could see that everyone here today was hurt, and her woundless body could almost feel a tickle of the pain they must have been feeling. But it wasn't enough to make the dumb girl care.
His body collapsed by her feet as the knight's sword withdrew. Had he slain the beast? She didn't want to believe it.
Wide and tearing, she watched his wet orbs shining red has the rage-light from her hands fell onto them.

Would it end soon?

Would his heart stop beating now?

When she could not bare to look, she saw Mark. The once solid man, staggering away from her.
Sad eyes gazed, searching for nothing - cold and without life or character.
Go on and leave me, Mark.
The thought was painless, but it stung like a bullet.

I'm better off alone anyway. . .

The orb in her hand grew cold, glowed blue.
Blue like the memory she no longer held of him. A memory forgotten, or a memory thrown away? Was it enough to wake her? Shake her out of this nightmare?

So hard. So difficult to make a sentence. So complicated to string these thoughts and make them into sounds. Standing there was hard enough, her throat was struggling, pulling out half-words or nonsense sounds. She lent in close to his non-human face - the only one left it seemed. Holding it softly in her small hands. Her features glowed blue with the orb. Speckled lips spoke an odd icy breath into his ear.

"Lets be reborn. Lets die now. Over the rainbow."

Eternal sunshine of Truth. I have faith in you.

"We will meet againe if it is in our destiny." She spoke so solemnly as though these were the girl's last words, where will you go little girl?
"Death is the start of a new life."

True nation waits for us.

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