Fandom Soul Eater: F.A.T.E

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan - Death Nova
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Eloise stared at him at what brief pause there was, her smile widening slightly before returning her attention to her own near-finished cup. Taking it in hand, she brought it to her lips in smooth motion to take a sip. Perhaps she could identify and was amused by the frantic train of thoughts that raced through his head, or perhaps she was smiling about something else. Either way, as he began to speak, her gaze returned to him as the cup was sat down.

"Ah, so you do know better. You were worrying me a tad," Eloise chimed in turn.

That wasn't exactly a lie. She hoped Ulysses wasn't as naive as he sometimes sounded. Of course he wasn't. He planned all this, after all. Even if he could coast in some ways off the Stein name, but he couldn't have come this far with the innocence of a child. Though she supposed given the euphemisms and offers, innocence wasn't the most fitting descriptor.

As he moved on, a mock pout formed on Elly's face. "Only for this mission, ouch," She cooed in a tone of phony hurt before breathing out a small sigh as her expression returned to her default smile. "I suppose that's better than naught. Give particular attention to Emmett."

Elly had a few weeks before she even met her group, so she had plenty of time to do some research on him, and potentially anyone else that might be assigned to her based on her bio and wavelength. There wasn't much else to do but learn the city and make some acquaintances.

Resting her on an uplifted palm, Eloise gave Ulysses a small smirk in response to his praise. "Oh, trying to make up for earlier already?" She rhetorically asked, referencing his appraisal of her perfection, or lack thereof as she twisted his words to be. "And I assure you, I can be what I need to be. I'll remember that if I need something and you won't budge."

She giggled playfully, tilting her head and giving him a wink. "You can call that torture, I'll call it workshopping. I'll also expect to be given a credit," She said before shrugging and flashing a Cheshire grin. "Or you could just address the poetry to me. I'd be curious material you can get out~."

However, onto his final inquiry, Eloise hummed in a bemused fashion as her posture straightened. She took another, final sip from her cup and set it in front of her before leaning forward a bit with both forearms braced horizontally against the surface in front of her. "Well, you are an angel comparatively, at least, but I digress... See, that's the trick, love. You can't." She paused but a moment before continuing with her explanation. "Trade secret~ You don't trust anyone. You trust that everyone will, A, act to further their goals and ambitions, and B, act in their best interest and security. If nothing else, I can trust that you are genuine in your goals to vet the program and that it is in your best interest that I don't get made... and to a lesser extent that you do fancy my accent."

For once, Eloise spoke without really any façade or padding. It was true to her line of thinking, even with that last bit of flirtation added on at the end. You can trust even your greatest enemy if your interests align at the moment, but even blood can shed its own if self-interests contradict. She had nothing against Ulysses. If she were speaking truthfully, his companionship was amusing, and he was charming and attractive. However, this wasn't Eloise's first rodeo, and a pretty boy wasn't going to slip her up or deviate her from, what she believed, was necessary for guaranteed survival.

Interactions: Sir Les Paul

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Ulysses Stein​

"D-Stein"​

Species Human
Partner None
Rank One-Star

Location Death City, Central Main Street, Death-Nova
Mission None
Status Elated, interested

​

Mentions: EmperorsChosen

Ulysses could only smile at the girl in front of him. Criminal she may be, but the person underneath was still genuinely quite interesting. She wove such unique and interesting mannerisms between her words, honeyed though they may be. He would be a hypocrite should he fault her for that. Alive, is what she felt. Layered somewhere between the persona she was forced to grow up with and the person trapped between that never got to be because of her environment. Who would Eloise be had she grown up in a normal family? Who would she be without crime? She had such a gift, but beyond that gift, what kind of person would she be without the atrocity that surrounded her?

Though, that question could be asked of anyone. Who would Ulysses be if not a Stein? More so, what kind of musician would he be if not for the gimmick of his Soul Sutures? This line of questioning could apply to anyone, really. And while his curiosity was definitely piqued, it was not in these incessant 'what if's?' about either of them--it was about what had already came to be. Elly could be a story not just of success for some program, but genuinely finding a new life and place in the world after such a dark one. That story would be infinitely more interesting than that of some saint that had done no wrong.

Ulysses stood again, his grin and soul reflecting a part of his more mischievous side again. He could have replied in any number of ways, but he decided this time to become a thespian. To change the flow of the conversation abruptly, but aptly.

"Alone," he said in a dry, raspy voice. It was unlike before, lower and clearly dropped for the sake of the ambiance he was creating.

"Hate and happiness fade away like diluted oils on an oversaturated canvas," he continued, his voice strong, dropping that raspy texture but maintaining his presence.

"Emotions like colors swirl and blend until they are recognizable, but that is the point" he still continued, placing a strong emphasis on the last portion of his line.

"Only in the beautiful disaster left by the chaos can I find solace."

"Only when the cacophony of souls is unrecognizable can I disillusion myself--distance myself--from otherwise untold stories."

"In every smile, in every laugh, in every roaring crowd, in every dull whisper, in every promise of love, in every broken heart, there is a story."

"But shouted together, they are mere... Noise."

"And, when noise becomes a symphony of vacuous sensation, I am graced with silence,"

"Because one soul alone can be a siren song of sympathy, but a chorus out-of-sync cannot secure my sentimentality."

"It cannot make me feel their pain or their joy; their thousands of stories all overlap and forfeit their influence."

"Thus, I am alone when I am surrounded,"

"Thus, under lights--on stage--bare and exposed to thousands, I am alone,"

"And, alone, I am unafraid,"

"Unafraid of the sympathy, the siren's song of humanity, the hurt and salvation that one can share,"

"Alone, the story is mine. I am author of my own fate, the scribe of my own future,"

"It is only singular in source--my anxiety; alone, I have but one fear,"

"That is... to feel as if I am not alone."

He exhaled deeply. Many times throughout his clear attempt at 'slam' poetry, he sped up, others he slowed down. Softened his tone at some junctures whereas with others, he let it pour through. His soul flared with this particular performance as well. These not mere words to him, but held an underlying point. Something deeper than they meant, something powerful and personal to the Meister. If his soul was honest before, now it was nothing less than naked to the elements. Somewhere hidden in the subtext of his words was a deeper meaning that rang true to him with such power that a priest with the scripture would struggle to sound as convinced.

"Hopefully your... workshopping isn't as harsh as the feedback I get from my co-writers and agent," Ulysses said, a simple follow up to his poetic debut. He sat back down, not particularly winded, but feeling just slightly drained. Whether that miniscule of a shift could be picked up on was up in the air, but it was one he was aware of. He was an entertainer. Not all of his messages were meant to be meaningful beyond a superficial level.

"And, to be frank, Elly, I honestly don't want you to trust me," Ulysses told her, his eyebrows now raising and his tone picking up a more serious weight. "When someone wants you to trust them, there is a reason. Otherwise, people don't typically give a damn if they're trusted. A liar is least convincing when they're trying to convince you of something. Boil this down, and it doesn't really matter if I like your voice, find you attractive, or even pleasant--and that goes both ways, doesn't it? Should either one of us try to actually convince the other of something, it would be a giant red flag to just stop--danger," he explained to her, providing insight as to his point.

"So yeah, I don't really want you to trust me. Especially not blindly, oh Death no," he added. He was about to add something else. To continue on as he was. But before he could articulate his next word, he stopped. He knew the direction he wanted to go, but wasn't sure how meaningful it would be, so he opted to stop then.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

An Unprecedented Occasion, pt. 2​

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The air escaping Chanterelle’s lungs was audible as she hit the ground from Gauss’ throw. The witch bounced once, skittering a few inches, but she managed to scramble her legs below her as her hands clawed desperately for the ground. With an almost-inhuman snarl, she leapt forward in retaliation, aiming her shoulder into the weight of his chest. On his toes, crouched, it might have been enough to knock him over. It didn’t seem worth it to stand when she could try to drag him down instead.

Two things occurred to Gauss simultaneously. First, his tactic worked. He had never tried that, and fighting on his feet like that–particularly on the offense, was not his strong-suit. Second, oh dear Death, did his back hurt. Just the pressure of that roll alone was enough to remind him he was a survivor of a suicide bomb not that long ago, and his previous action was a distinctive mistake.

Then another thing occurred. Her name was Chanterelle. She may have been thrown across the ground, but such did not matter to this little Witch. She got up like a feral creature. It was like her best Sara-impression, and Death-damn was it spot on. Gauss was not immediately thinking about combat in this moment. Perhaps because he didn’t actually expect to win. Perhaps because every fiber of his being from his body to his soul was half-destroyed in his last fight. Regardless of reason, his reaction was simple.

Dodge. He would have made Papa Piccolo proud.

Gauss saw her incoming and with his natural inclination for reactions over actions, had sufficient reaction time to twist his body upward in the same direction he had thrown her, as he was slightly off center, and with the half of his body that was slightly forward. In this motion, he both stood up and side-stepped the incoming leap only to turn around to face Chanterelle once again.

The man lifted his finger at her, still as if she was an animal he was trying to hold at bay, and panted as he did, not from exhaustion, but from the reeling pain of his back. ”H-Hold the fuck on… give me just a moment,” he spat out, his face cringing and body demeanor communicating his pain far more than his voice ever could, yet he tried anyway, ”That whole flip thing has my back real fucked, just give me a second, thanks,” he added, explaining his unorthodox mid-combat request.

The miss was harder to take than the initial throw. Her knees thumped into the ground, and there was a hiss, loud and pissed. She could feel the burning of her knees from contact with the concrete floor. As she shoved herself back up, facing Gauss, there was a wetness there - glittering on her legs with tension, but not spilled, at least not quite yet. The blood moved slowly from the scrapes itself, invisibly slowly, compared to her own movement.

She’d started to move forward again before he spoke. The witch halted in her tracks - teeth bared fully - but the destructive rage spurred by the stupid look on this stupid meister’s face echoed and intensified as she stared him down. There was a crazed look there, a fire, and it was offended by the interruption to its path of violence.

“I thought you were a combatant,” the witch finally growled, skin prickling with anticipation as she took up her stance once more, just three or four feet out of Gauss’ reach. “I’m not throwing lightning bolts.”

It might have been funny, from someone else, but Chanterelle’s voice was flat.

”Technically, Noah threw the lightning bolts. I just spun him,” Gauss responded, seeing he did in fact somehow get the brief time he needed. Or wanted. Although, he would have definitely taken more had she offered it, but given she resumed her stance, it did not seem like that was on the table.

“Bold to assume I’d know the difference.”

Gauss returned to his most basic stance, identical to the one he started with having his legs spread at even pacing and his hands relaxed but spaced apart evenly. His stance, had she been a martial artist, would have clearly demonstrated virtually no direct weak spot, at least in regards to Karate. In this case, that didn’t matter.

”I just make metal shit float, which in my opinion, is far less cool,” he added, finding his own sense of humor in this unnecessary but technically accurate explanation. That was the end of that attitude, however, as that face Chanterelle found so stupid a moment ago returned to its serious scowl, except this time… he was the one waving her to come at him.

This was an unwelcome turn of events.

But Chanterelle moved forward again. This time, her movements were more comfortable, and less motivated by pure unadulterated rage. She kept herself low the ground; her movement was more at home in the underbrush evading cover than in the middle of a battlefield. First, the woman made her way forward, slipping around his right side just out of reach to spin around his back. She did her best to maintain that distance - just out of reach, moving around, dipping backwards if he reached for her. Maybe it was an endurance game. Maybe she was looking for an opening in a wall of man.

Gauss, replicating that hopping motion he performed earlier, did a backstep and a body turn toward her, switching his left foot forward over his right and drawing in his arms in the same motion to close in on his chest from his outstretched position. This was clearly more on the defensive, and he lightened himself on his feet as opposed to his more rigid stance just a moment ago. ”Tip about tempo of close quarters combat: if you make it obvious you’re scouting for an opening, your target is going to close said opening,” he told her in oddly enough a more genuine tone than his typical condescending one.

“Hmmmmmmmnnnnm.”

The vocalization was overly drawn out. Chanterelle moved right again, moving her hand forward as if she was going for a jab to his shoulder with her forward right hand, but pulled her arm in close to her chest and swung out low with her foot instead. The witch was breathing heavily, although the break Gauss had requested had seemed to help; still, her face was flushed nearly as red as the cherry boots on her feet, excepting the webbing crawling across her cheeks. This type of adrenaline - hand-to-hand combat - it made her heart skip beats. The witch was sure her pupils were all but encapsulating her irises.

This. This was much better for Gauss. Moves to react to, chances to utilize his actual, and extensive, training. She went for a traditional jab which he responded to by lifting his opposing arm out for what would be a deflection, but she withdrew it as a feint. Cheeky. She’s learning. The thought would have been more impactful in his mind if not for the immediate follow-up with the low swing of her leg. Not an uncommon tactic in his primary fighting style.

Which also meant for her, his body almost instinctively knew the response. She swung her leg and his reaction was a quick pivot of his hips around to pull back the side of his body she was aiming for and use the same momentum to transition into a turning kick aimed about as low as he could given their height difference, which still was unfortunately again aimed above her waist. Preferably, he would have aimed even lower to avoid any type of grab she might have thought to do, but the speed and force from the momentum of this type of kick was nothing to disregard for the untrained.

Her own kick might have missed, but Chanterelle’s covered hands clawed at Gauss’ leg as it slammed into her waist, buckling her knees and throwing her to the floor again. This time, the noise was louder, back striking flat with a resounding smack as she forewent the opportunity to land. Although she didn’t quite drag him down with her, she realized as she scooched back across the floor, the fingertips of the makeshift gloves had been torn out by her long nails. Her other arm - her left arm - clenched around her abdomen. Her eyelids fluttered as she pushed herself back to her feet with her dominant hand.

Half-standing, in her few seconds of opportunity, Chanterelle yanked at one of her boots. It didn’t have any lacing - just fake lacing up the sides, easy to take on and off, great for hikes - and it came into her hand easily as she staggered back. She wielded it in front of her like a sword, and leveling the makeshift weapon, whipped it at the meister across from her.

The lack of experience she had was astonishing, at least in regards to martial combat. Catching a leg could present a major problem, even if one knew the various ways to either use it to their advantage or get out of it. Granted, it was not lost on him that she was kicked with a metal-bottomed boot for magnetic purposes, but regardless, forfeiting that was something he would not have considered. It may have been for the better given he was absolutely prepared to pull in for her head, and given a chokehold of some kind–while not exactly part of karate–might be one of his only notable win conditions, avoiding that was likely in her best interest.

But then she fucking threw her boot at him. The absolute fuck was that. Even in his wildest dreams, he wouldn’t have considered even Sara throwing her boot at him. The Hell was this? Under normal circumstances, he might have tried to catch said boot, but given the last thing a witch threw at him fucking exploded, he thought it best not to play with potentially magical projectiles.

Yet again, the Meister sidestepped to avoid the incoming attack, or in this case, article of clothing. It wasn’t exactly uncommon that a woman might throw their clothes at him, but this was definitely not the context he considered it appropriate. Looking down at her from the side with a face of complete confusion, he just shook his head, then stepped back.

”Go get the fucking boot and put it on, I’m not fighting you barefoot on concrete, Death-damn girl…” he told her as if disappointment was the only emotion he could muster. ”You’re supposed to be a combatant he added, clearly mocking her comment from earlier, ”Not a stripper.”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Chanterelle wrenched off her other boot. This one, she kept in her right hand, the left arm clutched tight around her ribs loosening its grip as shifted her weight from side to side. There was a visible dent, there, where his foot itself had made impact: a near-perfect replica of the metal plate in its base. Her breathing steadied.

It took a moment to get up the nerve to advance. This time, she moved back and forth, in a half-zigzag pattern broken to repeat the zig once, and the zag another time. She swung out with the boot- as if using it as a sword – and let go of it high before going for Gauss’ torso with both fists. It was more of a flying leap at him, really, in the wake of the boot. Her shoe strategy was developing.

What didn’t develop, however, was the realization that Gauss fought best on the back-step. The ploy with the blade put him into a slightly different stance. Fighting against someone armed altered both the placement of his feat and how nimble he acted, immediately bouncing on his feet, but keeping one planted at any given time. His hands were also kept open this time, no clenched fist. He was expecting to have to maneuver himself for a wrist grab, but seeing her release and her leap transitioned his approach.

He placed his weight on his back leg while thrusting his front one forward, angling all of his body weight into the ground so that the upward thrust kick was gaining energy from the ground itself, in this case the concrete. His greater size and the overall increased span of a leg meant that, simply, she would run into his foot which itself was heading at her with no small amount of force before her fists would reach him. The boot, to him, was inconsequential. Just dropping it left little to no force, meaning Chanterelle made herself his primary target, and this time his kick was meant to hurt.

That impact was not avoidable for the witch. Her reaction time, she realized, was simply slower than his; the boot cleaved through the air and slammed up into her hip itself. There was a screech that came from her lips; it didn’t feel like it came from her body but she could feel the air escaping her lungs. This time, though, Chanterelle landed on her knees - just in front of Gauss, also on the ground, out of his own volition - and she used her feet, having crunched against the ground, to shove herself forward in another attempt to overwhelm him through sheer physical force.

Chanterelle was fairly certain of her capability to do some damage if she could get a hold of her opponent. The problem was, of course, that Gauss was very good at not being touched. Her hands grasped for her shoulders as a goal; her head was cloudy. Idly, the witch wondered if she was also concussed, but the liquid courage pumping through her veins prevented her from acting on that fleeting thought.

She did not stay down for the life of her. That kick would have put grown men on the ground gasping for breath. Gauss would have thought she wasn’t human, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew she actually was not human. If she was going to become a glorified punching bag, she could at least make it interesting. This all-out assault of hers was growing tiresome, and given it was the exact type of fighting he knew how to counter, quite dull.

Gauss decided to change his approach, at least slightly. Shifting his stance to a lower one, just briefly, once his leg returned to his change, he pivoted his body around her leap at him, but this time during the pivot, throwing open handed chops at her underarm to deflect her body movement off to the side. It wasn’t a dodge or a parry, but a deflection of her momentum while adding some of his own with the fundamental goal of keeping her flying to get some distance. She rolled across the ground as she retreated from the momentum, but this was more controlled, less painful. Her eyes slid shut for a moment of introspection. She could feel the frustration hot in her face.

With that, he turned around and resumed his normal stance, but tested the waters to see if he could establish a dialogue. ”Miss witch, you need to compose yourself. Get up, take a moment, catch your breath, and try for something other than a lunge. You have four limbs and some surprising dexterity, you can do better than a half-hearted werewolf impression,” he said, watching her every move if she wasn’t in the mindset to listen, but trying to get through to her anyway.

For a moment, Chanterelle didn’t answer. She laid on the ground with her eyes closed, wishing that death himself had taken her the first time she’d felt his boot, and wondering what exactly went wrong in her eighteen short years of life that inevitably led to an melee arena fight against a meister martial artist. Was it her ego? No, no. It couldn’t be that.

“Right. Right, I mean, why not. This has been humiliating enough already.”

Her voice was grim. The witch rolled onto her stomach, finally, and hauled herself to her feet with more trepidation than she had shown at all thus far. Her hands raised. They were shaking, but the exact reason why was hard to discern from that alone; her eyes were all but black and her ponytail was rapidly loosening. Blood dripped down her knees. She looked disheveled, but not done, not quite yet.

Gauss, cutting her off entirely, spat out the question, ”By the way, what the fuck is wrong with your eyes?”

“Are they really that bad?” She shot back, blinking at him, but at his mention of it she allowed her focus to widen - on more than just him, on the arena around them, on the people and noise and lights - and realized that everything was, in fact, very bright. “...they are, aren’t they?”

”Yeah, they’re pretty bad… like, your pupils look like that one fucked-up eye on the other guy on your team,” he told her, giving her a general comparison of just how dilated her pupils were.

“You’re a meister. You’re the one who can see souls. Why don’t you tell me?”

There was a general murmuring of confusion from the crowd. She was speaking more quietly, now, but the aggravation was palpable in her voice. Something in the back of her mind told her she should appreciate someone being concerned. Something else told her that she’d have rathered he stay an enemy; this fight was becoming less of an object to get rid of all of this pent-up rage by the second as they displayed empathy towards each other. It wasn’t a feeling she often experienced. The beating of her heart rushed in her ears, but then, it was at least slowing.

”Good question. So, in my last fight, what happened when I tried to Resonate was a massive form of rejection, and I can’t really use much of my wavelength right now. I could try to use Perception, but even if I did, I have no idea how your magic works,” he explained to her, although he didn’t go into the specifics of how any of that worked. Granted, he didn’t really need to.

“We can talk later - if you care. I live in the most conspicuous residence on campus, and you could always knock, but I’m not broadcasting this to the stands. Sorry.” She grimaced.

”Y’know, if you need a moment, like if this some magic thing going on with you, you can like catch your breath, get your heart rate back down, maybe get yourself a little calmer for your next attack?” he suggested, quite generously and oddly sincerely offering her some time to bounce back from whatever seemed to be ailing her. That, and again pressing the subject of her needing to think through her attacks instead of acting all primal.

After a few beats of consideration, the witch nodded. “Thank you,” she mumbled, breaking eye contact and (it seemed) contact in general. Her step broke to the side; she let her gaze hang down to the floor and took long-count deep breaths to slow her breathing. Her heart was in her throat. It danced more quickly than she ever could; the last time Chanterelle remembered participating in this much physical activity it was in a life-or-death situation and, honestly, it showed. Thoughts buzzed through her mind. The impact of his kicks still echoed through her body. She doubted, now, that she could be in that much of a better state than Gauss.

It had been easier to goad him forward. If not for that, she could always try to out-speed him, but those sorts of attacks didn’t seem to work well on Gauss. She ran through a few options. Took a thirty second count to get her breathing back to a regulated pace. When she was done - and she knew the stands were getting impatient - she stepped back up and waved her opponent forward again.

Her eyes appeared no better, but the witch looked less likely to hit the ground on her own accord, and the battle could continue. “You’ve got the first move," she offered, as if that was a desirable thing instead of a danger.

She took her time, fair enough. Gauss was patient enough, especially given any amount of time for her to rest was also time for him. Her chest expansion was back to normal, so breathing was in order. She took a better stance, so she was more composed. It seemed she had taken his advice, so this was all going relatively well–until she wanted him to come at her. Gauss did not like that. At all.

He decided to take another approach. Not his favorite stance or style, but perhaps more suited to the offensive. He planted his legs considerably less far apart with both of them leaning in the direction of his body, which was more forward in her direction, then raised both of his arms up with open hands to his body. While still reflecting the style he had demonstrated up to this point, it was not dissimilar to what one might expect from a boxer.

This stance afforded him considerably more forward movement and speed, which he used to start bouncing around in front of Chanterelle, bobbing to the left and right as he approached a striking range. He was fluid. Not just in one place, not just originating from one spot. His drawn in arms were then used to test reach and reaction, throwing a series of one quick jab that was pulled back just short of striking range, then in a hop immediately to his left followed by feinted hook with his right arm that was halted only to be followed up with a straight jab to her right shoulder from his left hand. In total, two false attacks and only one intended to make contact.

It was just like a meister to change his style as soon as he’d urged her to strategize about his old one, wasn’t it?

Her hand grabbed at his first feint, her stance weaving back and forth to match him, stepping up on her tiptoes to help with parrying his higher blows. The hop seemed to catch her off guard; the witch dipped backwards as she swung her body away from his feint. Her hand still up from his first left-hand feint, the real jab caught half of the hand before her shoulder, but the torn roots binding her hands were beginning to break down from their violent contact with the floor. They snaked at his wrists - uncontrolled, certainly, but still sticky. They’d needed to be, to stick to her own hands.

But Chanterelle didn’t think about the implication of magic use here, either. She hauled her own right hand backwards - trying to pull Gauss off balance, although she was sure the webbing would shortly snap, and sure she’d be in a worse position for it - jabbing her right palm toward his chin as she did her best to yank him toward her fist.

There were many ways to respond to an attack. Dodge, deflect, block. When a new factor was thrown in, like these roots, it changed up the game. Gauss might normally have found that interesting, but there was supposed to be no magic in this fight. Intentional or not, these roots snaking at him did not sit well. This sparked a drop of anger in him. An angry Gauss made bad decisions.

He charged what little of his wavelength that he could to reinforce himself, going from bouncing around to absolutely rigid with this superhuman strength. This would make a pull ineffective, but more so, make his absurd reaction time to her upcoming jab outside of any type of speed he displayed earlier. While this was hardly his peak performance, it was a definite jump up in his capabilities. Did it hurt? Yeah. But anger was enough to push through that pain.

He grabbed at her wrist to stop her jab, then simply started tightening his grip. Tighter. And tighter. And tighter. His goal was to become a vise for her arm, causing something between the lines of discomfort and outright pain. ”Remember the rules, I’ve been playing by them,” he told her with a deadpan stare, then let go of her wrist entirely.

The witch’s stuck hand ripped away from Gauss’ armour like peeling glue against his rigidity. Her wrist was caught, though; the pair were very close together, and her grimace was not visible from the stands - her eyes sought up to his, widening in a sort of horror, and she flattened her feet- putting far too much pressure on the wrist caught in his vice grip. Her feet rocked flat against the ground when he let go. Rubbing at her wrist, Chanterelle rewove her gloves nearly instantly, taking a few steps back to show him the gloves.

“Thought it was more fucked up to change them,” she snapped defensively. It was hard to see an opening from here, but she wasn’t sure if he was ready, anyway. The idea of a disqualification murmured through her mind. She tried to disregard it; the witch moved side to side. It was a circling sort of motion whose direction changed unrhythmically.

How exactly am I supposed to find an opening in that?

Gauss saw the new gloves, and perhaps considered that he overreacted. That said, he was almost blown up not that long ago by a mage, so it’s not outside the realm of justification that seeing magic up close when he was unarmed would trigger him. Either way, Chanterelle was quick afterwards to return to a circling motion around him, and while it seemed haphazard, it did mean he was on the backfoot again. He resumed his normal defensive stance, not the more formal one he took in the beginning, but decided to take his verbosity a step further with her.

”Gōjū-ryū is the style you are fighting against,” he said, his eyes staying on her as she bounced back and forth. ”My entire style is reactionary. When you make me attack, I am at my worst. If you think about it, you’ve taken far worse hits when trying to attack than when I attacked,” he explained to her.

Then, with a smile unlike what he had done at all during the duration of this fight, he quizzed her, ”So, if you face an opponent too dangerous to attack, how do you fight them?

“Usually, I guess you’d evade,” Chanterelle returned to him diplomatically, keeping her breathing in check, keeping her entire focus on his form, “but my style’s a little less sportsmanlike.” She took a few paces back, giving herself space, reaction time against him. All of the damage she’d sustained was starting to catch up to her. She needed to be more careful; she needed to be more effective. She wondered how long this had already gone on. At least a couple minutes, right? That ought to be a show of some sort. It made her feel better about the idea of losing to a boot to the face.

”Not a bad idea, but you can’t evade if the attack is reacting to your own,” he explained to her. ”At the high tiers of karate in this style, at the least, fights often center around timing. Offense and defense at the same time, never committing to an attack until you think it will land. You’ve been starting off the fight wondering how to land an attack, but you haven’t even considered how to land an attack once I’ve moved from my opening stance. You need to put me in a position where there’s an opening because quite plainly… there isn’t one right now. Lunge me a hundred times and I’ll kick you across the field each one from this stance,” he continued on in further detail.

“Right, right. You’re a proper wall of man.”

It was a quick dash forward, first, that put Chanterelle into position. She kicked out at his ankles, first, but spun around short from the kick - leg pulled in to conserve momentum - and went for a higher hit to the face with her right hand at the end of the spin. It wasn’t as graceful as she wanted it to be, but it was certainly the most varied attack she’d offered to him thus far. This was more dance than combat.

In his eyes, Chanterelle did not listen to his advice at all. If anything, she set herself up for an incredibly telegraphed attack. While she did try to feint with the kick from her ankles, she spun herself directly after in such a way all of her momentum was going in one direction. This effectively meant that her only option for attack was to come in from the side she was spinning. This is why in karate, any shift like this was incredibly short-lived and often was caused by a rotation of the hips–little wasted movement or time for a large increase in force, and all of it was controlled. Practiced, even.

He withdrew his outward foot with her kick aimed at him, but upon her spin, prepared for either a kick or a punch to come in his way. This is when he slightly shifted styles. He stepped in close, essentially directly on her. This adjusted the trajectory of her punch to effectively behind him where he was, and in doing so allowed him to grapple his arm over her extended arm, then with what could only be described as ruthless intent, rammed his knee directly at her gut with full force.

The knee knocked all of the air out of her lungs. She could taste blood in her mouth; the hacking that started splattered flecks of blood across his body and face. Chanterelle grimaced. There was a gem-like red glittering on her teeth. The witch wrang back on her arm against his grip; a writhing ripple through her body wrenching her body back toward him instead of away into the air. Her wrist popped. Her other hand grasped for his opposite shoulder; the witch was intent on slamming her knees back into his core above his own by turning the momentum back around.

This was undoubtedly a precarious position, and Chanterelle was surprisingly nimble. Also, surprisingly capable despite literally coughing up blood. Had Gauss the time, he would be disgusted. His particular fighting style didn’t exactly have a technique to get out of this scenario, so it became a quick moment of improvisation. In a split moment, his mind calculated each way he could try to mitigate the overall damage, and the first conclusion he came to was a sort of block. He stretched out his one free hand to attempt to intercept her knee as she brought it in and used what he could of his raw strength to act like a human brake.

Was this easy? No. Without his wavelength amplification, this was still a more than fair amount of force coming at him. Was it effective? Somewhat. While he was able to slow down the attack, the strain put on his wrist and forearm was tremendous, causing a searing pain to be shot up through it. It was likely she just pulled or perhaps even tore a muscle. That arm would be hampered for the rest of this fight.

But it also put them in another awkward scenario. Gauss was now attempting to support her weight and his simultaneously, and that just wasn’t going to happen for long. He also lacked any form of leverage in this situation with one hand on her knee and the other tangled with hers. He could twist, he could turn, but he had no ultimate method to dislodge them. At least, not a physical one.

”You’re not my normal type miss Witch, but if you wanted to get this close to me, all you had to do was ask,” he told her before oddly enough relaxing his grip on her knee to let her sink in closer to him, as if encouraging the movement, only worsened by the wry grin on his face.

The grab had made the witch freeze up in her movement. There was an intrinsic fear of being dropped or thrown; the relaxing of his grip made her feet slide down against his leg to the ground. Her grip on his shoulder remained steadfast, feet flat on the top of his armour-boots. Her other hand, the floating hand, drew back repeatedly to beat against his core. His comment made her scowl; the coughing fit that followed her attempted strikes left flecks of blood streaked across her lips.

If most of his limbs were accounted for, though, she liked her chances a little better. The witch couldn’t look up to meet his eyes. She was too distracted in her absolute conviction to hold on. This would prove to be a poor decision. Not only did Gauss not like to be ignored, the audacity she had to start pummeling into his core was not appreciated.

After the first strike hit, he flexed his core to handle the oncoming ones. She packed a decent punch, but compared to what he had withstood from Zosar earlier that week, it wasn’t enough to stop him. By the third hit to his gut, he was irate enough that he lifted his hand from her knee and aimed it directly at her throat. Not strike her. But to choke her. Wrapping his gloved fingertips around her skin, he clenched in and started tightening his grasp not unlike earlier with her wrist.

This was complete panic. Her gripping hand loosed from his shoulder, and both of her hands clawed at his grabbing arm, fingers pressing at the insides of her makeshift combat gloves and scratching at his hand. The witch had had enough of this; still, she didn’t want to call the battle- he couldn’t be much longer for the ring, if he had to fight like that, where he’d been almost friendly before. Her eyes focused up on him. They were watering heavily, like she’d been crying. She couldn’t choke, not really, but she spat the sour-tasting blood in her mouth - it bubbled down her lips and her face onto his hands. The witch kneed at his crotch; a kick from an extremely close distance, bound to hit somewhere if not the target at least. Something to make him divert his attention, maybe. Something.

Gauss had all of his bases covered, including that most sensitive area at which she aimed. Of course he did. Why come into battle wearing a suit of armor if your dick wasn’t protected? But, as hope may have seemed lost, there was a single shift in him that acted as a glimmer of hope. Those eyes that were so determined started to dilate just as her own did and his grip, while not gone, began to loosen. While his bases were covered, without his helmet, his face was not, and the blood she spat on it earlier was potent enough that its effects started to kick in.

He also was realizing quite quickly that something was wrong. His head was fuzzy. His cheeks flushing. His body warm. The pain he felt, at the very least, was vanishing, slowly but surely. Chant was many things, including a natural painkiller, apparently. But this left him curious, and unlike before when he speculated magic, his altered mood did not allow for rage. ”Wh-What… are you doing…” he asked, stumbling over his own words.

The witch’s fingers pried his hand away from her throat violently. She choked; the spray of blood directed now into her own face and neck, aimed only at herself - but as Gauss began to sway, she wrapped one of her arms around his almost protectively, frankly just trying to keep herself between his skull and the ground. Her determination anchored him standing, at least for the moment.

“Nothing intentional,” she admitted shamefully, her voice thick and hoarse with abrasion, “but our brawl is over.” The look on her face was almost wounded. Her eyes were almost as absent as Gauss’ own. The anger and bitterness was gone, now. Regret was there instead.

The witch’s feet made contact with the ground. Vines rapidly grew across the concrete from her soles, layering around the meister and his feet, a cushion for when he should fall to allow the emergency team to pick him up. Cautiously, she unwound herself from her grip on the other combatant, taking a few steps back. She raised her hands as a person might while being detained. Her eyes searched around the arena for Cyrus.

The mushroom witch looked like hell. Her face and throat was bruised, and she imagined so was most of her core, but the pain was not much more than a buzzing in the back of her brain to be attended to eventually. She waved him forward with a rolling motion; keeping a close eye on Gauss, and cleared her throat before stating clearly for the people in the stands to hear--

“I would like to concede. It seems magic has influenced the outcome of the match, despite my efforts.”

The gloves melted from her hands, molding into mulch on the concrete at her own feet. Chanterelle considered briefly the location of her shoes.

Cyrus heard these words and had a quizzical look on his face. He did not perceive any magic being used. He looked back to Riley, then the three huddled together–Cyrus, Riley, and Tabitha. In whispers, they spoke briefly before Cyrus returned. Meanwhile, Gauss was simply standing there staring at his hands blankly as the effects began to kick him. Chanterelle’s hand covered her mouth in horror as she watched him. Her face was red with embarrassment.

“We have conferred and decided that is only necessary if you deem it so. You did not will this to happen nor do we think you intentionally caused this outcome. You may proceed, if you so deem fit,” he explained. This decision was primarily aimed at the sportsman element he tried to play up earlier. Chanterelle, in his opinion, did not intentionally use magic in this fight, thus did not deserve a disqualification. Such would also reflect poorly on the program. They had already allowed the explosive results of the last match to pass through without interference, this, as long as it wasn’t lethal, would be allowed to slide by, too.

The witch looked surprised by this, but the grimace didn’t leave her face with her hand, and uncertainty washed across her features. “I’m not going to hit him again,” she protested flatly, “look at him. He can see sounds.”

A disqualification is worse than a loss flashed through her mind. But wasn’t it more sportsmanlike to take the loss, here, with the knowledge that things had gone awry? The witch had agreed to fight a duel she could not guarantee the integrity of because of her want to exhibit. Certainly, these were fitting consequences. The blood shone on her grimacing teeth. Her hand searched for her torso, pressing down on the mark left by the first (and worst) kick.

“Besides, I didn’t represent my magical team at all, really. Gauss exhibited the ability to defend against an agile but untrained opponent of unconventional strategies without immediately ending the fight through brute force.” This was diplomacy. Chanterelle’s teeth felt numb. The witch had wanted so badly to represent her team well; still, she was afraid that not being disqualified would be seen as unfair, especially as Gauss’ incoherence was on display. This was uncomfortable. It felt dangerous. The blow, though, was mainly to her ego. “I demonstrated an ability to be kicked with a steel-toed boot. If not a disqualification, would you take - in good faith - a forfeit?”

A kaleidoscope of colors, an orchestra of sound. Gauss was not in this world. He could hear the breathing of the universe. He could feel the strings, the music the world made, the vibrations that brought everything together. Time? How long was it? What was time? Time was just the vibrations, and he felt those. He felt the interconnecting pieces of the universe from the farthest stretches of the stars in the sky to the overcomplicate stardust everyone around him was composed of. The sun that beat down on him with rays, the slight wind in the air that tickled his now glorious skin. Even the blood and sweat that dripped down him, it was like nirvana. Hear sounds, she said? He made that out. He did not just hear sounds… he was sound. He was the music of the universe, and so was she.

He kept staring at his hands. His gloves. Were they him? Was this skin? Black, and silver, and metallic, some weave? No. No, that was not him. He could tell that. He could almost feel the suit he had around him. The pain in his back that was previously excruciating now felt like an eruption. A volcano of freedom from his back. The wind hit it and despite how very, very faint it was, it was nearly enough to overstimulate this man.

The next words he heard, the chorus that to his burning ears seemed like a dozen voices speaking at once spoke of forfeiting. To give up? No. No, he wouldn’t have that. Where was the fun in that? Oh, the grin on his face might have been malicious is not for how dopey the rest of his obviously inebriated face was.

”Why… why would we quit now?” he asked with an almost childlike curiosity. ”You were getting so much better… you almost landed a hit,” he said, his tone so warbled it was hard to tell if he was congratulating her or condescending her.

One of those beautiful hands he had from earlier, he raised it up and clenched it. It was the one her knee had damaged, but in this moment, he could not feel that. What he felt was pure ecstasy running through him. And in a moment, what he felt was his wavelength running through him. Not like normal. Not the controlled, incredibly precise amounts. This was like a river flowing through him that had been its dam break. What toxins she put in him released whatever inhibitors of pain that were on him and that damaged soul now coursed through him without falter.

Then he ran at her. Sloppily, almost like a drunken man at last call, but was he fast. Faster than ever. Time was only on her side because he did not run straight. He ran in a giant crescent to approach her, affording her some time. Cyrus saw this, and withheld an actual laugh. Why this was humorous to him was beyond him, but he took this brief moment to tell Chanterelle this, “You can give up if you want, but in your shoes, I’d be more afraid than guilty.”

The weariness on Chanterelle’s face was palpable. Her gaze traveled to follow Cyrus’ back to Gauss when he laughed; she’d been gazing at the emcee hopelessly though her opponent’s wavering speech like she’d rather sink straight through the floor. But Chanterelle bent her legs, appraising his charge, and when he was so close he loomed over her, her foot pushed off the ground and she rolled behind him in his charge.

This position gave her a moment to think. She pushed herself to her feet again, turning to face him, squaring up for another round. The blood dripping down her face was thick, more like molasses than water, and the witch’s guilty mind gave way to a moment of clarity.
They wanted these fights to be pretty brutal, huh?

His next movement - past her or spinning in turn - she wasn’t sure of. It was hard to predict someone in that sort of state. Still - was beating him up actually ethical? Was this wrong?

Through the neon tunnel he went, the spiral of swirling colors and now even interesting smells. Iron? Blood, maybe? Oh, he couldn’t tell, nor did he care, all he knew is it was most definitely there! Like Alice down the rabbit hole, he went deeper and deeper, so much so that when the mushroom did roll, he had no idea which way she would go!

”Oh witch girl, come back to meee,” he said almost musically. He saw her standing in front of him. Well, he thought it was her. Such pretty crimson colors coming from her face, then those spirals of hair that seemed to be fiery in the air, and he did just so realize how little she brought to wear. Had he been in mind, that might have been nice, but he could barely think once here, let alone twice.

”Isn’t this fun?” he mused yet again. Then he charged his wavelength into his hand. Clenched in a fist, ready to fly. He darted at her once again, a straight line this time. His speed was far, far unlike before, those blows she dealt back to him wouldn’t be so easy anymore. He was fighting like a Meister now, and she was just a witch. He didn’t realize how unfair this was, but it was her own magic that put her in this stitch.

It was more of a complete bowlover than a fighting impact.

The meister crashed into her, certainly, but the resistance her body could give against the punch that rocketed into her chest was nothing to the full-body flight he lunged into from only a few feet away. Chanterelle wasn’t sure what hurt more - the punch, or the pair’s rapid deceleration as the pair hit the floor, wrapped in a heap of limbs and metal. There was a scream - bloodcurdling, like something out of a horror movie, and though they rolled violently across the floor, she was presently surprised to know she was alive (and even conscious!) when their movements finally stopped. The impact of the wavelength had collapsed something in there - her left arm was numb, and looking down in a fuzzy sort of fascination, the witch quietly observed the gaping crater in her shoulder that had snapped her collarbone down the center and pressed it violently down into the soft tissue inside.

Absolutely fascinating. Everything was on fire.

The meister had ended up on top of her in the heap. All of that force. All of that momentum. All of that pain. The realization of what he could have done this entire time had he not been hurt from that previous fight. And, now? Now, he was entirely out cold on top of her after the two had skid violently across the ground. That brief glimmer of potential from him as the toxins in her blood coursed through him came to their logical endgame, a loss of consciousness. His face supplanted on her chest, face flushed against her bare skin likely only making the situation worse, and without a sign of livelihood from him like before.

As this occurred, Cyrus darted over to them to assess the damage. He asked two quick questions to her, “First, Chanterelle, are you okay? I have medics on the way for both of you, but I need you to tell me how bad it seems to you. Secondly, do you either have an antidote, or the ability to make one?” These questions were asked while the Meister was still entirely wrapped around her in a half-dead state.

“No, and no.” The witch whispered. She pushed up at Gauss’ effective corpse, but the flames through her arms were spreading, and her chest felt extremely tight. “But they might have some in the office. They took a sample.” Chanterelle’s voice was small. She was certainly ready to cry; she just hoped it wouldn’t happen before they got her off stage. All of her core was tender. She was sure she was bleeding horrifically.

“I think my arm is broken,” she answered finally. It was an understatement, but more than that was hard for her to identify. Her arm was not broken at all, of course - that was her collarbone. The witch let her eyes close for a moment of reprieve. “He’s not going to die.”

“Good to know,” Cyrus responded, fairly nonchalant about both of their states. He stepped back as medics approached both of them for an assessment, donning a fairly extensive amount of PPE and starting by checking the carotid pulse of Gauss. The other started rattling off questions to Maria, but speaking over him for a second, Cyrus interjected, “You will both go to the DWMA hospital for an evaluation from here. Do not concern yourself with his state, focus on recovery for yourself. If you are worried about some type of penalization over this, you may breathe a sigh of relief.”

He then nodded to her and stepped back, turning on his lapel mic to announce, “The victor of this round is Chanterelle! This means the first match of this tournament will go to the Mages! But it was no easy victory, folks. While this was quite the spectacle, our next match will surely demonstrate the capabilities of our Fate Agents! Once again, the stage will be cleared and in just a few brief moments, the next match begins. Watch closely, if this first match has shown us anything, these can end in an instant, or become a real battle of attrition!”

The medics did their jobs, of course. The combatants were distangled and loaded onto two gourneys - Chanterelle wiped at the blood on her body with large leaves, discarding them to the foot of the stretcher, taking care to preserve her own privacy as she left the stage. Her eyes searched the stands before they were rolled off.
She’d won, apparently.

Absolutely wild.

Merciless Medic Sir Les Paul EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun Mqueserasera QuirkyAngel Sybil Prizzy Kriyze The Regal Rper

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Jarvis Briseis

Location: Death City (South District...a couple blocks from South Oak Street
Date: March 9th, 2067​

The slight hint of vitriol and refusal to meet their eyes amused Jarvis, but mostly because he hadn’t expected it; The older Zari seemed more like it would be the more mature one. Then again, what defined maturity really? Age? Experiences? Valerija was hundreds of years older than him, but there were times he could swear he was the older one. Living longer didn’t necessarily mean wiser. Besides, it couldn’t feel too good being rejected by one's younger self.

Glancing at the blonde child that scooted closer to him, Jarvis couldn’t help but wonder how the child version of himself would react if they could see what he’d become. Shocked? Repulsed? Jarvis couldn’t say he had ever thought anything good about bloodsuckers before becoming one. The younger him had different sorts of dreams. Ambitions. A future to look forward to. Now…now he wasn’t sure.

Reality crushed those dreams, like he’d crushed Atli’s spine, and now he was stuck in an un-aging limbo where resonating with other living souls felt like a nigh impossible chore. Where avoiding humans felt like the safer way to interact with them (unless he needed a drink). Why make friends when you’d outlive them anyway? Why choose a partnership that won’t last? Valerija told him he was overthinking things, but to Jarvis, it was a perfectly logical train of thought. If Death, and other undead, were the only ones that could properly wield him then so be it. Deathsycthe seemed like the optimal career choice; It would stop Atli from nagging at him as well.

Jarvis didn’t expect to meet someone he’d actually want to resonate with…though it was less about the Weapon-Meister technique and more about saving a boy that went through what Atli had gone through. Perhaps he had simply wanted to save someone like his former meister had saved him–even her death. The body may die, but the soul was eternal…or some such. As someone who had spent 5 of his adolescent years in DWMA, even though his own soul/body had been twisted by the magic of the ritual to become a bloodsucker, the preservation and sanctity of the soul was still important to him.

Thanks to Alti, that part of him still hadn’t changed.

Casually, almost lazily, ruffling younger Zari’s hair, Jarvis replied to older Zari. “Yeah, it’s do-able. Probably.”

Within Zari’s soul space, the meister’s thoughts and ideas were like an open book. He could hear the unspoken ‘Why?’ that seemed to echo from the older Zari’s soul for example. And he could tell the meister wanted to make a dome to catch Shuumie. “If not, I’ll gather enough blood to make it happen, though the more water you can make it shed off the better.”

Maiden’s pain wavelength certainly had an interesting effect on the creature, though, judging from the sadistic intent he’d felt when Maiden’s wavelength spiked, the autonomous weapon might not be the best one to hold Shuumie, after all. Jarvis shrugged.

“I thought the plan was to let it return to its litter before doing anything…” Or at least that was what he’d heard Zosar say. “But, in hindsight, that might not be the best idea…letting it get in contact with more water, I mean. I don’t think its kits will like us very much either so, yeah, let’s go with that.”

Unless it was completely illogical, Jarvis didn’t generally oppose what the meister wanted to do fighting-wise . That would disturb the balance of their wavelengths. He was the weapon anyway. That was how he preferred it. The gauntlet that protected the wearer’s hand and let them control blood. The one that didn’t have to do much, physically, who wasn’t as responsible for the outcome of the fight,and whose only job was to keep in tune with the meister…under normal circumstances.

As blood seeped forth from the corroded spot on Zari’s shoulder, further exacerbated by the boy’s wild, acrobatic movements, a thin, red tendril slipped from the gemstone on the clawed gauntlet and touched the red that stained Zari’s sleeve. Then, the fangs near the gauntlet’s opening stretched, piercing the meister’s flesh and making its way into the vein where it came into contact with Zari’s blood. That was the second time Jarvis tasted it. Jarvis’s soul closed its eyes as the gauntlet registered Zari’s blood as its own. The red stain, now connected to the blood tendril, lifted itself into the air and eased itself back into Zari’s body, his circulatory system, after passing through the gauntlet for a safety check. Jarvis slowed the circulation of blood to the corroded area as well. It wouldn't do have the meister faint from blood loss nor was it necessary. “Let me know if it hurts or I’m doing anything wrong. This is how I’m properly worn, though most humans find it uncomfortable.”

Giving control of their blood to another soul that is…though having something stabbed through the vein couldn’t be very comfortable either. In some ways, sharing blood was almost as intimate as sharing wavelengths to the bloodsucking, blood manipulating gauntlet.

Jarvis’s weapon form didn’t technically have any bood of its own–it was just a gauntlet after all. It had a storage that could hold 1.5 gallons of blood, but only if he remembered to refill it while doing partial transformations as a bloodsucker. Instead, the gauntlet registered any blood that made physical contact with it as its own. In a sense, the blood became part of the demon gauntlet’s “body” and therefore the gauntlet could manipulate it. Move it. Re-shape it. Purify it.

The stronger their bond, the more accurate and precise the manipulation…which was incredibly important if he didn’t want to accidentally rupture a vein or something. Frankly, Jarvis wouldn’t even consider manipulating anything within the meister’s body if their wavelengths weren’t even enough to at least enter into each other’s Soul Spaces.

“In this position, I am able to increase or decrease the circulation of your blood, making you bleed more or less as necessary, augment the delivery of o2 to the desired parts of your body while you fight, sense impurities in your blood, monitor its flow, etc. The important thing right now though is I can draw out your blood to help fill the gaps in dome size and thickness…should it be necessary.”

Making the enemy bleed was usually the better option.

More blood tendrils emerged from the gemstone, latching onto whatever spilled blood Jarvis could sense in the surrounding area–which honestly wasn’t too much considering the light rain–while Zari closed in to punish Shuumie’s every attempt at escape. A bit from Zari, a bit from Shumie, a bit from the dead squirrel in the trash can whose lid Zari threw like a frisbee, and the red tendrils that slithered around looking for blood got thicker bit by bit.

“Just let me know when.”

Lying down on cold cement, hands folded atop his chest as if he were sleeping in his coffin, Jarvis's soul stared up at the ceiling of Zari’s soul space. The ticking of the grandfather clock provided a curious contrast to the distant thunder. A dull, repetitive, almost peaceful rhythm to match with - at least to Jarvis. To those that desired a bit more spontaneity in their lives, he could see how it might drive them a bit mad. “Oh, and Little Zari? You can visit me whenever you want, but this space is still your home, safe from the Demon, so you should try to return more often, even if only for a little bit. I bet that grumpy, chained up guy over there is lonely and could use the company.”

Prizzy Kriyze Sir Les Paul The Regal Rper Sybil

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nadia Semyonov - Death City, The Colosseum​

Heading to the ready room with Dani in tow the TV inside was relaying what was said between Thaddeus and the Witch Chantrella was it? No, that didn't sound right, the Mushroom Witch Chanterelle. A name that stood out as much as her own given name. Still, she could not believe what she was hearing, he was doing what? While she could admire the bravery, this was very, very foolish. "What the? Debil!" Why would he agree to that, the words Prudence had offered, daft bitch she was aside, were perfectly sound. He had the overwhelming advantage, one great offensive, one last push! Overwhelming power! Take the advance, suffer what you must and deliver a crushing blow to the beast in its lair!

Why could they not see something so simple? Then again, the man that could control magnetism, but he used that to fly atop his shield. Why had he not used it with the effects of the staff to use the weapon offensively, why had he not joined the fray directly, why had he allowed his sister to treat him so? It was weakness, no matter how strong he presented himself he would never understand the glory and fires of conquest, to see you enemies lie broken before you and to put them in their place. "Pathetic."

​

Watching as the two engaged in some agreement he said something about sportsmanship and a coin toss, she had a feeling the witch would make him pay for those words as he tried to turn the deal more to his own favor and she to her own. Sportsmanship, to amuse the crowd, this was nothing more than a farce to show the pet projects and killers of the DWMA off for the amusement of what parties donated them. As the battle went on, she studied the two and heard their words. Thaddeus was quick to offer tips to the other, was he so full of confidence or foolishness? Either way to offer tips to improve an enemy was unwise, one's strength was best used in the here and now to destroy a threat, to grow stronger still. And true to her predictions the witch showed how feral she really was. Like a wild squirrel, or one gone feral.

With each attack he did not follow through, with each attack did she bounce back, accumulating more and more damage, yet did Chanterelle fight back, bit by bit however did the agreement unravel. Magic that inhibited what she was could only stay active so long as the caster had the ability to control it and to be aware of this fact. Here and there he came close, but he continued his game and continued improving her, or at least stating his platitudes and advice. This was much at odds with his fight against Maria, then she watched the kick and its aftermath. Steel toed boots?

"Heh, watch Dani, she will get back up. I know that look, even as her eyes go funny, it is the look of one that had to survive, one that always has a bit of the wild in them. She's a wild's witch, no doubt about that, never let your guard down with that one my dear Medved." Nadia says with a snort as she watches the witch get up once more with a dent in her.. That had to be armor. Or there was something unnatural about the girl. Well, she was a witch.

As the fight repeated with the two getting closer, Gauss started to get more and more cocky as she seen it, all the while he explained more and more to the battle-damaged witch lashed out at him with tendrils though from speech, she claimed this was not her doing. She wasn't so sure she about that, still, now he was attempting to win as she was bleeding all over the place. So much for sportsmanship. It was then her lips curled into a smile once more. "Hah. He's lost and doesn't even realize it." More words were traded but her blood had gotten on him, if her touch was normally poisonous, then what about the rest of her?

As her assumptions played out, Thaddeus seemed to get serious as he started up a new fighting style and still told her what it was, flooring her again, yet once more not following through, with some of his usual words come to play, things seemed to go rapidly downhill as he spent the last of his energy, Cyrus then made his presence known. And from there it was all over.

"Chyort!!" Shaking her head once she looked towards Dani and shook her head. "Now we have no choice but to win. The Wolf maybe then fail or pass us. So much for sportsmanship, but at least they are taking care of both now."

Interactions: EmperorsChosen

​

 

[Merciless Medic]

Zelda Zemo​

March 11, 2067
Location: Colosseum
Zelda Interactions: Gauss, Dani, Nadia, Noah, Sara, Prudence, Rand
Sara Interactions: Noah, Gauss, Prudence
Noah Interactions: Gauss, Sara, Prudence
Mentions: Thea, Midori, Cyrus, Chanterelle, Emmett
Sir Les Paul Mqueserasera EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun

Of course, Zelda wasn’t expecting respect from this bitch anyway. She just wanted her to leave, which Thea finally did. Gauss looked rather defeated however. Even saying how she was right. After Thea left, Nadia put in her two cents. What she said was harsh, yet she did agree with it partially. Obviously not the ‘go die in some ditch’ part, but the survivalist giantess left with Dani before Zelda needed to speak with either of them. It was obvious she’ll have to talk to Gauss. He got up and muttered an apology and tried to leave for their next fight. Zelda called out to him, only imparting some encouragement with a soft tone. “Don’t apologize. This is why you are in FATE. Good luck. I’ll talk with you after.”

She watched as the trio left. Taking a big sigh, she went up to look over the arena where she had been previously, watching the negotiations between Chanterelle and Gauss unfold before they began to fist fight, with Noah and Prudence retreating back into the waiting room. While the fight had caused some concern, she didn’t think it would get any worse. She took the time to open up her phone to see not only Rand’s angry text, but also a text from Cyrus about a security breach involving Zosar. She closed her eyes, disappointment flooding her before she shook her head and texted Rand.

“It was never our intention to teach them to resonate this early. Our goal was to get them to be amicable towards one another and just focus on wielding each other. When they resonate is purely their decision, but we never encouraged them to resonate within the first week. Their attempt left them failing that resonance and the rejection they received hurt their souls. Of course, Thaddeus - being as overzealous and as theatrical as he is - wanted to show off their potential. We never told you they could resonate or try resonance attacks because we believed they wouldn’t try nor did they have a sound soul to do so. I apologize for not instilling thought in a possibility that they may choose to do so, and I also apologize for not restricting them from using resonance attacks. Resonance may be spotty with our next students if they choose to do so.”

With that apology out of the way, she went back to focus on the fight, only to find that Chanterelle was bleeding and Gauss was touching the blood, and…

Oh, Death…​

---

Noah Wiley​

Why was Gauss apologizing? Whatever, he didn’t care. Regardless of whether Thea was right, Gauss had a point to prove by being in F.A.T.E. and that was all Noah really cared about. Nadia’s words only made Noah even more irate. Whatever anger Gauss didn’t feel, Noah felt two-fold and he was left irritated right before it was their time to get out there. He was his team member though, so he did walk with him out to the arena. However, his frustrations boiled over and, coupled with his growing sick feeling in his stomach, he left before he could continue making a joke of himself.

As soon as Noah made it back to the waiting room and picked up his coffee Emmett had given him, he was just about to take a sip when the scent of lukewarm coffee hit his nose a bit too hard. It made him cringe, which never happened before with coffee. Regardless, he stubbornly pushed through it and forced himself to take a sip.

His body did not agree with that. Noah found that the liquid barely went down his throat before he felt the nausea hit him full force. Setting the cup down in mild panic, he rushed to the trash can and began to vomit all the food he had eaten today in a strangely quiet way. The pain in his soul finally caught up to his body, putting him in a rather vulnerable position.

That’s when he felt a hand on his back.

---

Sara Middleton​

Sara was there.

She had come back from talking with Midori, only to find that the entire room was vacated except for a sick Noah and a possible Prudence nearby, with Noah’s head hovering over a trash can. Setting a chair behind his tensing body, Sara stood by him and soothingly petted his back, his body wracking until he was only dry heaving. After a few minutes, he relaxed. With a guiding hand, Sara put him back on the chair, having him sit down. His head lolled back and his face was contorted in pain and disgust, lips curled while he took a napkin and wiped his mouth. “Gross…”

The werewolf simply chuckled. “I’ll find you a medic.” With that, she vanished down a corridor, leaving Noah by himself. The fights, at least how it went, did not concern either of them. Not right now anyway.

That was until the victor was announced. Chanterelle won, giving a point to the Mages. Hopefully, Dani and Nadia would fare better. When Noah looked up at the monitors to view their conditions, he saw a whole in Chanterelle’s shoulder and the two combatants looked even more beat up. Gauss had passed out. He should probably see him later, as he likely needed to be transported to the hospital soon.

When they arrived, the sick Noah looked up at them weakly, his skin pale as the effects of the rejection caused his stomach to churn and he held his stomach with both arms. “Good luck.” He said hoarsely, his gaze turning back to the floor, his hair obscuring the look in his eyes as he tried his best to block out any annoying words they had about his weakened state.

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Daniella Ethalyn - The Colliseum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Following Nadia to the ready room, Dani was still in a stabbing mood and not really one to watch the fight. However, Maria had calmed her down somewhat. Unfortunately, what the T.V. displayed would only worsen her. The better decision, and not just because it was somewhat of a "fuck you" to this whole thing, would have been to forfeit. Instead, Gauss chose to continue on and without Noah or Prudence at his side. On top of that, he worked out some kung fu duel with the witch. Why the witch accepted that, Dani had no clue, but just when she thought the lack of weapons or magic would prevent this bout from being a clusterfuck, she was quickly proven wrong.

It started off fine, though it was odd that Gauss was giving tips to Chantrelle. It didn't sound like arrogance either. He was just trying to help. Help now, after all that shit before?

She looked over at Nadia as a warning was spoken her way. It seemed the Russian was amused by this which. Dani simply scoffed. "Like I'd let my guard down around any of these fucks. It's a fucking wolves den."

To her credit though, Dani could see why. Each time, she got up. Nadia seemed like someone that respected headstrong perseverance. Still, taking hits over and over wouldn't win her the fight, which caused her to raise a brow when Nadia stated the opposite. Dani glanced to her partner, then back at the screen. She was bleeding--This was that fungus witch, right? Did her blood have some kind of effect?

It didn't take long for Dani to have her answer as Gauss' symptoms began to show. He was out of it enough that it didn't seem like he could fight. Even the witch wanted to call it quits at that point, though of course that dandy fuck thought everything was fine. Sure, Gauss went into a berserker trance and almost beat her, but by the end of it he was on the ground and Dani wasn't even sure if he was alive or not.

She grit her teeth, staring at the screen with animosity. Not at the witch, by anytime the camera panned over Cyrus, the judges, the crowd, and Death. She wasn't sympathetic to Gauss, and she had already talked about this with Maria, but this total disregard for them all--No. Disregard would have been preferable. This was exploitative, and exploitative for the most menial of bullshit.

"How fucking generous now that they're dead and a half," Dani remarked coldly.

Interactions: RedArmyShogun
Mentions: Nadia, Cyrus, Gauss, Chantrelle, Noah, Prudence

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Maria Mayer & Head of the Black Workshop Mirai - Death City the Colosseum
​

Having finished her part in this Maria headed for where she asked Rand to bring Mirai, something he seemed to have arranged during the battle as she requested. Though still battle damaged she was insistent on seeing her Master, her mentor and caretaker, the closest thing Maria had to a family. The woman was sitting in a single seat along the viewing room, her right knuckles tucked under the matching side of her face around the cheek as black sclarea and yellow eyes briefly turned to see Maria out of her left side, her left hand beckoning Maria to take the seat next to her, followed by another jester that Maria knew all too well, to set her work down and to take a break, one of the worst things to ask the girl as she seen it, setting her suit cases down, she however happily took a seat.

"Maria."

"Master Mirai, I, it's been so long."

"Indeed, it has been, you seem well and have those unorthodox manners of thought. It is why I have always found you so interesting and my star pupil. However, you did take a bit of damage there. How goes your studies, you search for the unknown, for our goal of the Magnus? Of seeing where there is no sight and walking where there is no path?"

"I have decided Enchanting is not enough in and of itself. I shall never climb beyond the 4th tier least I make it into the first, second or third in more. My project, my till now, the greatest creation, Enchantment alone is not enough."

"So, you still seek knowledge for the sake of creation and even found a new perspective. Remarkable. Tell me Maria, have you made any friends, why did you make use of your creations so?" With that her gaze narrowed as Maria took her seat beside her not afraid or off put in the least nor concerned with the damage of the girl, for her pull was that of discovery, of knowledge, curiosity in its purest form.

A first Maria shook in anger and balled her fist at having her mention of her creations brought up. But she calmed at mention of friends of the questioning and even the praise. "I, made friends with at least two people, a Meister and Weapon pair that are in the next fight. I accidentally knocked out the second and the first made use of my crafting abilities for herself, though when I confronted her with it at the urging of the second mentioned girl, she's agreed to pay the extra amount. And still would like my company. My Mentor also did something interesting, but he does not strike me as a friend. There was also another of note, but I feel as if they will be gone."

With that she paused for a bit as Mirai nods. "Oh, what was it he did? The Witch of a thousand spells, if only that title were true, the questions I would have for him. And that is interesting. She values you beyond your crafting skills if she later paid what was due, even if she was an opportunist. What if she had not or asked you to not come again? And oh, knocking her out, my how bold."

"Well, he took me to an infant's wing and pointed out the children of flesh and blood were worth more than mine of wood and magic in the eyes of their parents more or less. I..Master.. It brought up memories that are ghosts and it is why I came to see you here and now. Still, I can neither doubt nor agree with his words. Though I had one of my creations to self-destruct would a parent do such to their own child? As to that, I would have taken back what was mine, by any means.. I would take it back."

"Some would. Or send the children of others to do it, mankind has marched under banners for well more than 800 years for the silliest of notions, stating a value of life then sending it to die by the millions as they cry crocodile tears. Till they win or they are hung. Though I have seen a few parents that would fight to the death over their kin. What does this say?" It was at the mention of the memories of ghosts that Mirai's face shifted, a subtle change of remorse.

"That people like witches are not so simple, not so valuable and yet not worthless, the sum of their parts decides that. Some take for granted what they have not earned."

"Indeed. An acceptable answer. But why did you do what you did?" Mirai asks once more, as she lowers her hand to stare at Maria.

Maria pauses for a bit, pondering her answer. "Anger. A wish at making you proud and making it so others in the realm could not ignore me. To prove I was strong, that I will always find a way to snatch the clouds that others sit upon, to drag them down to earth."

"Ah. So to be noticed?"

Maria nods and continues on. "Like those I broke for thinking they were superior to me, I took flight with the wings I could. My goal was simple. And yes, I wanted to be able to face you."

Mirai nods at that and chuckles. "I am sorry Maria, I cannot be your parent. I am not your mother."

"W-what..why?" Maria stampers out as the witch reaches over with her left arm to comfort the girl by stroking her hair.

"Because you are my greatest success and my greatest failure. Not that you failed me, but that I failed you. I raised you to follow your talents but not to interact with mankind, you were even cutoff from witchkind. You now are always climbing, always trying to rise and not hold to the limits others gave you. I did not ever consider the human and social aspects of those under me."

It-its fine. I don't mind!" Maria said with a smile on her face even as tears started to form in her eyes. Mirai for her part stops the stroking and lowers her hand. "No, no it is not. Maria you must learn of the hopes I have in you. You have always found a way to rise up, to create in a realm that is overwhelmed by destruction. I cannot see you as my child, nor a lover, for I do not have such feelings and even now the new students I train I just encourage them play with one another and just throw them to their own devices.. Just like with you the workshop is where I am the happiest."

Maria's tears welled up at that as she whimpers a bit as she stammers out and calms herself. "W-what you expect of me?"

"I do not think ultimately the DWMA, or at least its combat divisions are where you are best suited. In all the years I have lived you were one I consider an equal in the realm of questioning and trying. Of asking and climbing, of being curious and of a mindset I did not mind. Maria, you proved in the ring you could face a Meister and win, even if at a stalemate. The others of the Council will have no choice but to acknowledge you. But you still have not reached my ideal. Try and grow these bonds, to reach out between witches and man. As of late the black workshop is engaging more and more, with the magictech of man, co-operation with the DWMA is high but not many can accept the new order or have interest in this new work."

"B-but what does that have to do with me?"

"You must be strong and find your own way. Maria you are my greatest pupil as I said but I allowed you to develop in a way that I was too haphazard with. But you understand magic, you are not born great, you grow, learn, build to being great."

"I can't fly or do lots of things, who do I depend on!? What about those fragmented days, these laughs or stares of people and all their nuances?" With that Maria has her head grabbed by Mirai who holds her in a hug to her chest. "Maria Calm yourself. It is simple. Even if under the DWMA, I want you to work in the Black Workshop as an envoy and specialist to aid me in this new age of magic to shape it, to form it to learn it and to bring the revolution of change."

The fight outside seemed to be heating up, but neither care then nor there.

"Maria I want you to be my eventual second seat I want to be my true equal to go on to make more things. I want to see this final project of yours to become a previous project. But Maria my dearest student, you must learn a bit of the hearts of all. And to find what you want in life, outside of the pull, maybe take interest that I cannot with others and make your own worthy successor. We are not forever. You must be the bridge that binds, there is someone I may ask to speak with you during this even if able. Ah, and one last thing... I think we should learn to make your creations fly enough to carry you with your own magic, maybe get more shipments of silver to you as well. Heh would you like to be my coworker of the highest order, even if you stay a DWMA dog?"

"I will try to be a sorceress that they must name a witch and to do all of this, but I think it will be hard."

"When has something being hard stopped you before, in your own, heh, charming way? It need not be tomorrow just that you can keep improving, finish this course and make your Goliath. When none can down and the others need you, your posting is another thing. Also do consider seeking out those that might could be new family, just uh... Yeah. Just make it clear you are only interested in long term, but hah, you have many years to worry about that. I'm just me saying no, does not mean another will not say yes."

"For now let's talk about getting lift by your mana supply and wires so you don't have to march on the backs of your doll's shoulders, maybe I could even call that other fool up here."

Maria content with this offer was still a bit sad but kept pressed to the hug for a bit before letting off. Sitting as she were when she entered it seemed Gauss was suffering a bit in his melee fight with Chanterelle, her work seemed to have led to an encounter of martial might, which the meister lost. "Hmph, he does go all out to fight her but not me. I may have had to use Alicia in the battle then... Hmph."

Laughing at that, Mirai goes back to watching the matches as she keys in magictech cellphone, eyeing the match. "Hopefully we don't win then all or DWMA may not be in a good mood."

Nodding in general agreement, the attention turns to the two fighting in the arena as suddenly Chanterelle is declared the winner, which came as a surprise to neither, though the final moments of the battle were something else to see.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Jarvis Briseis

Location: Death Colosseum, Death City
Date: March 11th, 2067​

“She isn’t my mo–,”

“Awww, he left~”

Jarvis’s eyes followed Midori as the two-star autonomous weapon darted off before letting out a sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and returned to the seat Midori had briefly taken from him. Their mentor’s response was more impulsive than Jarvis would’ve expected, but it showed him that the Death Golem hadn’t been lying at least. Not that Jarvis had any reason to doubt the team’s mentor/leader, but many people spoke kind words and failed to back them up. A lot of times it wasn’t even intentional.

Like how he claimed that he would ‘save’ Atli.

Valerija nodded and waved Midori goodbye before looking to Jarvis. “Soooooo, who’s Zosar?”

“One of the meister’s in my group. A type-E FATE agent that seems to be involved in some sort of trouble,” Pulling a sleeping pigeon from his pocket, Jarvis prodded the bird awake before releasing it into the air while Cyrus announced the decision the combatants came to. No weapons for the meister. No spell-casting for the witch. Just a straight up brawl. Nearby some members of the audience ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’. Jarvis’s face remained largely indifferent as he watched the pigeon fly away.

“Shouldn’t you be going with him then?” Valerija knocked her head in the direction Midori went.

“And do what? Oppose DWMA? File a complaint to Lord Kidd?” Jarvis shook his head, his eyes wandering down to the arena as Gauss threw Chanterelle. And his back. “Even if I did barge into the headmaster’s office--or the VIP box-- and spoke up on Zosar’s behalf, it wouldn’t do much. These days, there’s no one in the school who knows me well enough to take the words of an agent in the FATE program, a former drop out like me, seriously. Midori at least has some connections.”

Probably. If not, the startling loss of a team member would mean that Adra would have to find a new partner…or go the autonomous route. Regardless, it didn’t alter his goals in the least. No matter who dropped out of the program or who stayed, Jarvis intended to push towards one last attempt at being a Deathscythe for his own sake; To satiate the part of Atli that remained in his soul. He didn’t have the luxury of worrying about others…least of all, someone who might actually want out of DWMA. Collars. Chains. Therapy sessions. The whole gladiatorial treatment. One could endure it all if they had a goal. A reason for wanting to remain in DWMA, despite how the school treated them.

Jarvis wasn’t entirely sure Zosar had a reason. “Besides, he’d contact me if he needs me.”

The FATE agent hadn’t forgotten all the Magitech communication devices he’d been given. Though his understanding of how they operated was fairly low, he learned quickly how to push buttons.

“What happened to the cute kid with fire in his eyes who told me he’d do anything to stop his crazy, mad-driven girlfriend?”

“The kid became a bloodsucker and grew up.”

“...do you regret it?”

“Sometimes,” Jarvis admitted. “But the Atli in my soul tells me she’s satisfied with how things turned out and I don’t think I would do any better even if I could go back in time…so there’s no need to blame yourself.”

“Wha-? Why would I blame myself for your recklessness?” Huffing indignantly, Valerija slurped on her drink. “Pidgeon, Jarvis? Really?”

“You should be grateful I went to the trouble of flavoring your drink at all,” Jarvis replied lazily. “You know where we are, right? I don’t know many people in Death city willing to donate their blood to feed a hungry bloodsucker…and I can’t go around taking blood from humans without their consent. Think about my position.”

“That’s because you aren’t hunting properly~ If you want, I can show you vampiric magic that’ll make it easier–”

“No thanks,” Jarvis interrupted the elder bloodsucker. “You have your methods, Elvira, and I’ve got mine.”

“Awww, but it’d make the feeding process feel really good for the person you’re drinking from…what was your new partner’s name again? The kid you were telling me about? I bet he'd love it!”

Tossing a disgusted look at Valerija, Jarvis ignored her question and changed the topic. “The witch doesn’t seem to be doing too well..”

Attention once more back to the arena, Valerija pulled out a pair of binoculars and held them over her exited eyes even though she probably didn’t need it. Likely added to her human disguise. “Well, of course not! Most witches aren’t much without their magic–especially the younger ones. I wonder why the mushroom witchling agreed to such a handicap? From what I saw, the mage team had victory in the bag when the puppet witchling tagged out!”

Jarvis shrugged, not really having an opinion on that. Like Gauss, he’d met Chanterelle once–the same day, in fact. She’d been growing mold in the library…and seemed to be the studious sort? Perhaps she had a sense of honor as well. And, despite the Stitches trio looking quite worn from their last fight, Jarvis didn’t know what Prudence and Noah were fully capable of either. Perhaps, if they worked together, they might have been able to pull something off, even if Neither Gauss nor Noah looked ready to resonate at the moment. It was still three to one after all…and a witch-in-training wasn’t as dangerous as a witch in their prime. Perhap Chanterelle had singled the meister out to disrupt their teamwork…which would be pretty clever if that were the case.

What Jarvis did know was it probably sucked to be a weapon set to the side, unable to do anything but watch, as their meister did all the fighting themselves. Jarvis didn’t like fighting, but he had been pissed when Zari cut their link to fight his madness all on his own as well. “You heard them…Sportsmanship. We’re all FATE agents anyway.”

Which meant he’d likely be counting on mage support for certain missions.

The Treaty of the Moon/Guild of Magic had already been set in place before he was born so it wasn’t as if Jarvis had any deep grudges against witches. Outlaws were outlaws. Hard to blame an entire race for the doings of outlaws, even if there had been plenty of dislike and discrimination against witches during his time. It still took 99 evil souls and 1 outlaw witch soul to become a Deathsythe. As a bloodsucker, his opinion of witches was…still pretty much neutral. Some of the more sinister bloodsuckers he'd seen served/worked with outlaw witches or other evil organizations. Some didn’t. Some operated solo, claiming their own feeding grounds. Some joined Covens. The one thing most had in common though was that they learned to blend in with humanity.

During his journey with Valerija, Jarvis had visited several Covens before settling in Siberia…where he remembered one Frost Hag constantly complaining about her aching back and demanding massages from him…which was pretty much the extent of his witch-interactions until applying for the FATE program. Considering that Valerija utilized Soul Protect to mask her soul, Jarvis assumed the bloodsuckeress knew some witches as well…but he didn’t know for certain. There were many things about Valerija that Jarvis didn’t know, many things that he did not ask, and many things he was fairly certain he did not want to know about the vampiress he’d journeyed with–the one who’d prepared the ritual and utilized her blood to give him the power he had wanted at that time.

The power to stop Atli.

The “pull of magic” was simply the pull of power…and all power desired to be utilized…just as all demon weapons desired to be utilized. Destruction simply an aftermath. In the end though, Magic, like Demon Weapons, were simply tools that could be used for either good or evil depending on the wielder. DWMA proved thus. The alliance proved thus.

“So it shouldn’t matter who wins.” Yet there were still those that clung to victory like some sort of badge. He didn't even know why those in the arena were trying so hard...other than a desire to win, of course.

As the revolting scent of Chanterelle blood grew stronger, Jarvis’s eyebrow rose as he watched a drunken Gauss charged Chanterelle…who had been trying to concede?…before passing out. Beside him, Valerija burst out laughing.

“Wow, after all that, he still lost!”

“You're being rude,” Slouched back into his seat as the audience cheered (or booed), Jarvis watched Gauss get carried off by the medics. The Blue Reaper had made a fair call in his mind. There had been no active spellcasting performed and the witch’s blood was as much a part of her body as Guass’s wavelength - or Jarvis’s fangs. The fact that it contained traces of magic couldn’t be helped. “Chanterelle’s blood seems to have some interesting effects…”

“And an interesting flavor no doubt~”

Jarvis rolled his eyes. “If you want to get a stomachache, sure.”

Asking Valerija not to be a glutton was like asking Jarvis not to be a slacker. Fortunately, the elder bloodsucker had a pretty solid control of her inner beast (taught him how to do it in fact) and didn't seem to have any dislike humans. She knew better than to start trouble with Death the Second, as well as a good number of his agents, watching as well. Hopefully.

“Your weapon form purifies blood, doesn’t it? If that Thales meister wore you, do you think you could purify the toxins that seeped into his skin?”

Jarvis shrugged and slurped on his own drink. The longer answer was that he didn’t know. Wavelengths had to be matching for him to even try anything. Then, there was the fact that the witch’s blood was magical by nature. Much like the MIBVI virus–or Black Blood–there were some things he wouldn’t know until he tried. Better to just have the witch make an antidote. It was her blood, after all.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Zosar & Eustice

03/11/2067
Dungeons | Below DWMA

There was something about death that gave one the time to think.

He could see it. Their eyes. Even as he was picked up, Zosar almost felt like they were watching him go with resentment, disappointment even.

They had died for this?

It was sad. Pathetic even. He'd seen a lot of people die on the field as an Enlightener, killed his fair share here and there also. And he'd seen his share of pathetic deaths.

Dying for a cause that never had a hope of going anywhere in the first place. Resentment for Eustice blossomed in his chest, and disappointment in Lars and the others was passed on as the Hoshi placed cuffs on him, then her partners went on to Eustice.

The corpses watched them shackle each of them, and Zosar watched them in return before turning his eyes up to the ceiling. Thoughts bubbling to his mind.

The eyes always had a common theme, whether you were the killer or the witness. He remembered the first time, he had been how old? Ten, probably. Maybe eleven- when he'd killed his first convicted felon. The name escaped him, but the details didn't. He'd been a rapist and a serial killer. Killing him had been a team effort and they had a Three Star, or as they called them in their group, an Enlightener Senior, watching over the team's actions. It'd been him, Eustice, Mark, Becky- Winslow and three others working to hunt the guy down back in Kingston. He'd been on the path of being a Corrupted, and the prison had already given them the permission to kill him on sight. And it'd been He and Mark that had dealt the fatal blow. The look of surprise in his eyes when he'd pulled the trigger- the brief feeling of understanding that he was ending a life. The look in his eyes. The desire to put him to an end. Zosar's thoughts wandered to Wendy's strange maroon ruby eyes; bright as ever-- but also dim. Dull. Somehow grayer. Just like the Witches. Their eyes remained open, like they were doing the world's longest staring contest to see who would win- and no one wanted to give up.

He blinked, and his mind went skywards.

He wasn't sure which fight was on now. In reality, the fight between Gauss and Chanterelle had only just started. And while it was starting, he knew that both Eustice and he were the two new guests that were about to be checked into their respective new rooms. No charge, dusty beds, and plenty of possible cobwebs to decorate the ceiling above. Zosar, for his part, complied completely. Not a struggle nor a remark, there was no response from neither him nor his soul except an eerie sense of calm. He had shocked Eustice, and himself by extension into submission- and then left the rest to his captors.

Ah what would Midori think if he could see him reveling in the ruby red life juice of his deceased allies, right now. Would he be disappointed?

And if he was, why should he care?

A part of him knew he shouldn't think like that. Knew that, in fact, Midori was not like the others before he had joined FATE. Would not give him platitudes that meant nothing. Would try.

At least till he possibly disappointed him, and a part of Zosar- the pragmatic part, was waiting for that weight to drop.

Then there was the side of him that seethed- deep down, but not strong enough to actually draw out the reaction. He'd been seething for two years and some months now, had learned a long time ago how to stamp out the embers before it started a fire. It was his life, who he was- what his Soul made him do, like he'd been trained- conditioned, raised to understand, he needed to maintain that pinch of control, always- till the day he died. He'd let it slip nearly with Emira when she gave him a taste of her wavelength. He wouldn't let it slip now. He hadn't let it slip since mother's death.

Besides, it'd only be proving Cyrus right. It'd only be proving all his naysayers right. Spite, was his strength here. And he'd rather die than prove any of them right.

The Volatile Wavelength, as always fluctuated at its usual strobing pace, but its spikes were calmer than it should have been. A lot calmer than they normally should have been. And upon looking deeper, there was a deep sense of regret that radiated off Zosar's soul- but it was so covered up, so choked down, on the surface level it appeared like the regret was mild, when it was actually far stronger.

And even deeper. Smothered under a mixture of emotions, a dangerous anger. An anger that, in all honesty, had always been there--

--yet, for all of that, the Meister, now felon, was pretty much relaxed. He did not express this anger in glares or biting remarks, because they were well past that. He knew it. He knew better. He understood the situation he was in clearly. That was the core difference between them, Eustice and he. He always had the sharper eye for atmospheric situations. There was an acceptance of what had happened.

Granted Eustice couldn't really do much when he was nothing more but an unconscious body, as Zosar had wanted him to be. Better an unconscious friend, than another dead one.

Through the trip they'd taken to avoid prying eyes through special tunnels and passages, Zosar hadn't asked a question about what would happen to him, or Eustice. There was no point. FATE was probably lost to him now, and his life was in the hands of Lord Kidd and Cyrus. He'd known it would come to this one day- he just hadn't been sure how.

Hadn't asked about what they would do to the bodies, because, it didn't matter. Wendy, Lars, Jacob- they were people he'd known since he was eleven. First time they'd met had been in Jamaica. Tackling a job together with Kenjiro Sasaki, one of the Enlightener Seniors- and a few ex-Guild Members. Hired by some of the politicians in the area to deal with some drug dealers that had been smacking local law around like they were their buddies, lining up for some night time fun and a hit. They had met on / off again, on different missions over the last four years before he came to the DWMA. He had liked them. The other two the Hoshi had killed, he hadn't known them- and that was a shame.

But they were dead. So like any of the dead that meant anything, Zosar merely made a mental note, a reminder of them in his heart.

Then for the rest of the journey, all he did was stare up in silence, watching the pipes pass on by, and sometimes, he'd close his eyes and exhale lightly from his nose.

The ride was not a smooth one by far.

Thoughts wandered. Thoughts of what he should do to escape, and the meister, seeing the futility, banished the thoughts with ease. Maintaining a sound mind, despite the chaos in his soul that contrasted the present aches from his Forced Rejection with Eustice on his body. In a way, he'd reverted back to when he'd been under house arrest. Only this time, he wasn't being given a secluded little town house to stay in that was being watched and surveyed by DWMA's Intelligence Branch. This time, he was getting something a lot more like what he'd expected he should have initially gotten, and probably would have gotten if FATE didn't exist in the first place.

If he'd been allowed to live that long had the previous Lord Death ruled.

It was the echo of the first step that drove Zosar to more vividly acknowledge just where he was. The brick halls gave the entrance hallways a medieval feel.

DWMA's Dungeons, it was the only thought he had to acknowledge the change of scenery from bloodstained corpses at the colosseum's entrance foyer to the dull dark brown colors, faded paint, yet sturdy cell bars that he would soon find himself residing in for who knew how long. If he had to estimate, probably for as long as the Tournament lasted- which could mean an hour or two before Cyrus would emerge, pissed off more than a cat that had its tail stepped on.

Though in all honesty, Zosar found he didn't care.

The door slid shut with a clack and clang, and the lights that stuck out on the cell's entrance, flashed- generating a wall of light that faded almost immediately.

All he could do was smile.

"Magitech?"

Akashi's weapon partner, the white haired twins, said nothing as they faded from view.

Some distance away, another clang. And in his range, Zosar sensed Eustice being put in the same cell. Dropped a bit unceremoniously, but at least he hadn't been tossed inside like a box of items in a truck.

Their captors steps faded in time, and Zosar was left alone.

Soon enough though, he knew he wouldn't be, and he couldn't wait for that to happen.

---

He groaned. Body stiff, and parts of him sore. Eustice had forgotten what this felt like. The pain of Rejection. He knew the signs, knew the symptoms. Even as he ran a hand over his face, massaged his eyes with a grimace, the Demon Weapon couldn't help but think: What the fuck happened?

"Finally awake?" And the voice made him freeze.

Instantly, his pains were forgotten, and Eustice looked down at his hands.

Shackled. Though even without the chains, he could tell if he moved his arms far enough that there was some sort of tether keeping him from moving his arms around freely.

"Fucking magic bullshit" he swore. Hurling insults under his breathe when the anxiety induced panic slapped him then unbridled fury bubbled to the surface at Zosar as his hands began to shake with rage. Trying and failing to use even Partial Transformation.

"Taking note of your new home, aren't we?" Came the teasing interruption.

Trying to get up and see which cell Zosar was in, if he was in one at all- the fucking ungrateful lout-- "Where--" and Eustice collapsed onto his knee, a stinging sense of pain hitting him as it connected on the hard brick floor. Cold, but not absolutely freezing- at the same time it only served as a reminder of what had just happened, he didn't try rising again. Deciding to just stay where he was as he replied: "Where are you, you bastard!?"

"If my senses are right, I'm a couple cells down from yours."

That...that made Eustice stop.

He was down here with him?

It was so stupid, all he could do was laugh.

Zosar also chuckled, even if he couldn't see him- he knew that laugh. Mockery. Just like Eustice knew that his laugh was a coverup for how he truly felt.

"So--" and the little giggles wouldn't stop between words, "let me- let me get this straight, you ruined my plans, got us both locked up down here- and basically costed Lars and the others sacrifice for nothing."

Now only Eustice was the one laughing, but it was a bitter version of how he'd been chuckling in amusement before.

"They really have changed you, haven't they?"

"I'm not the one who broke the rule, am I? Even if I did leave the others behind, I still gave them enough time to escape. What did you do here?" Eustice grimaced. "Oh right" Zosar laughed, "you brought them to die."

A rush of energy surged into Eustice's body, somehow rejuvenating him- he grabbed the bars-- felt instant pain shoot through his hands, and let go immediately- hissing, then fell back to his rump, losing that brief edge.

"Yeaaaaah" Zosar's voice sounded innocently sweet but it was mirthless, caustic, sadistic-- "I should have warned you not to touch the bars, huh? They seem to be charged with either magic or wavelength- I'm not sure which but they are painful as shit. I still can't feel my hands completely after my last attempt."

"And why the hell would you be trying to escape this place if you were willing to betray me for it?"

There was a pause of silence. And like usual, he expected Zosar not to reply. After all, if there was something he didn't want to share- there were very few in the world that could make him do it if he didn't want to.

Sadly he wasn't one of them. And none of the ones that could, had been invited to this suicide mission to begin with.

"Who said I like it here?" His voice was quiet. There was a venom somewhere in his tone that Eustice had not expected to detect, even if it was well masked.

Somehow it just made him angrier. The bastard must be playing jokes on him now.

Zosar cut him off. "I never said I liked it here, Eustice. You saw me. Collared, now I'm in here because of you. I said, and I'll repeat it again since you apparently haven't grown in the last five years enough to heed my advice when it could actually help you. I said: You should leave." And even with his body still processing the hostile wavelength out, his soul perception could pick up the powerful spike that followed Zosar's last word.

"And I said, I wouldn't leave you to rot here." Came the stubborn reply. "You have no idea how much I gave up trying to get all of this together, just for you to ruin 16 months of planning," his voice rising, "because YOU, SUDDENLY HAD COLD FEET!"

"Cold feet?" Zosar's voice in contrast was equally soft, yet eerily calm. "You were going to start a raid in Death City, weren't you?"

"I--"

His tone was harder. "Weren't you, Eustice?"

The Demon Weapon grimaced, turning away from the face of his cell. He said nothing. The people he'd hired had been paid money to act as long as the device he'd used to signal them remained active- if it was destroyed, the deal had been the assault would be off. They'd get half the pay for agreeing to it at all.

Everything was ruined-- and rising to his feet, Eustice kicked the adjacent wall so hard it left a pounding thud that echoed through the halls.

Zosar, meanwhile in his cell, remained standing. Leaning against the wall, silent for a moment, before he finally said: "Welcome to DWMA, Eustice. You should have left when I told you too."

The thudding continued, more rapidly.

All Zosar could do was sigh. Soon enough, they'd see what would happen next.

Mentions: Sir Les Paul @ others

Participants: N/A

 

[The Regal Rper]

Ark | DWMA | Colosseum

He honestly hadn't expected a physical fight- but then again, given the last one and the possible damage that Gauss had received, turning this into a physical one made sense. Then again, it was completely possible that Chant could handle herself in CQC.

As the fight began, it became pretty clear in just a few seconds, that this was not actually the case. Ark, frowned. Without magic, Witches and Sorcerers were no different from the average person. If he were being honest, as Gauss and Chant bantered between the brief pause the meister had sportingly allowed, this little duel just reminded Ark how much he had used to sort of envy Meisters when he'd been learning about them. They could physically amp themselves up, and depending on the kind of Meister, could even work solo even if it was at a low cost of power. There were benefits that came with being in touch with one's soul, and even if he wasn't getting to see that in this fight- it was pretty clear here that the differences in Martial skill, were obvious. Most mages hardly trained in CQC, most didn't need to- but when you had Meisters that had Anti-Magical Wavelengths, could shut down your magic like a Giant could shut down your strongest spell before it even got to the half-way mark....it painted a clear picture.

He wondered how this fight might go if at some point, both decided to use more of their innate abilities. From Chant's brief discussion in their introduction the days prior, she had a high advantage here, and Ark was keenly interested in seeing it through. His overall reaction to her taking hits was only topped with the occassional sign of empathy, but overall- he was focused. Watching. Analyzing. Processing. It was like when something of interest came up and he wanted to observe it, nothing else mattered. The only response he had given before the fight had started was an acknowledgement of Iris presence and a chuckle at Raph's statement about not bleeding his dad dry for help when they went to him later on.

Seeing Chant throw her boot at Gauss, was probably the only thing throughout the entire fight that got any real strong reaction out of Ark. He laughed, snickering, and then said: "Seriously?" It wasn't the most unorthodox thing he'd seen in a fight. He once had a Witchling throw an acorn at him in a mock fight back when he'd been in UK, before they had moved to the African continent--

--then again she had been able to turn that acorn into a grenade of flesh rendering needles- even if those needles hadn't actually done as much damage as they could but still. The Squirrelly Witches of House Algon were something else. Maisie especially.

With how this fight was going, he honestly couldn't help but glance over at Iris and think about how she might be in a fight. Her seals were undone, or at lease the shackles they had put on her had been loosened. She had helped him with that match between him and his cousins. If she was that good sealed- how much more powerful would she be with some of those seals unleashed.

It was exciting to think about the fight ahead, between her and Sara. There was a lot riding on this whole tournament, Ark knew that- but a part of him was honestly more interested in just getting to see the different capabilities of the other Fate members. Turning his attention back to the fight, he got to see the pause that Gauss was allowing her.

Honestly, the guy was way better when he wasn't feeding into his own sense of pride. If he'd displayed this side of himself more, perhaps he'd have heard less from the girls Gauss had had flings with in the past, about him being a bit of a prick and even more of a narcissist than younger Black☆Star.

The thing that got Ark however about this whole fight was why Chant didn't just use her poison to put an end to this. Magic or not, didn't she say something about her skin being toxic to touch? Then again with all the gear Gauss was wearing, it was understandable how she would struggle when she wasn't really a trained martial artist. At the stage when it became clear that Gauss was now under the influence of Chant's unique magic, Ark leaned forward. A raised brow and curious expression on his face.

He saw Cyrus approach and then the conversation they were having. "Quitting?" He wondered why. Was it because they had agreed to a CQC match? He didn't entirely get it but from what he could see, Chant had spat some of her blood onto him- unintentional of course- but its effect was working. It didn't seem worth ending the fight in his opinion though. And it seemed Gauss felt similar.

He ran in a majestic crescent towards the mushroom witch, and Ark had to wonder himself- what would he be doped up on Chant? Should he ask her if a fight ever requires it to see if it would somehow give him clarity from his own nerves? Time would tell.

He made a mental note to ask Chant about that later, probably in private- where she wouldn't be as tomato faced as she was watching Gauss charge her like a drunk. A fast drunk, but a drunk nonetheless. He wondered if he would move that fast, doped up on whatever concoction the witch made that hopefully didn't all have to come from bodily fluids.

Contact was made, and then they tumbled. Ark, shook his head as the two rolled. This had went from a fight, to a comedic skit. It was funny, but he wasn't sure how the seniors in the Guild or of DWMA would take it.

Regardless, he still managed an amused smile. Chant, would undoubtedly be feeling different about the fight when she rejoined them. He could see clearly that the fight was now over with Gauss motionless atop the Witch. And Cyrus called it just as he thought it.

The earth mage sighed. From the appearance of those medics it was doubtful Chant would be returning to them, perhaps after their fight, he and Raph could go check on her, and possibly even get a look at Gauss. In spite of Raph's feelings about the guy, the two of them from what he'd learned digging about the Meister and his Weapons, weren't too far apart in terms of the reasons they were both here in this program to begin with.

"Well", he clapped his hands. "Let's try to make our match as entertaining as theirs- hm?" He nudged Raphael with his elbow. "And Iris?" He turned to his friend, "I'm hoping you and I will get that chance to have that match you wanted the day we met. Looking forward to seeing your fight in particular."

Mentions: N/A

Interactions: Prizzy Kriyze Merciless Medic Sir Les Paul RedArmyShogun Meredith

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Frozen Earth, Fiery Rain​

​

What the hell? A bit irritated Nadia was not taking kindly to being disturbed from watching the rest of the first match as suddenly she found herself fighting in the second rather than the final and third match. It was cited that something difficult had taken place and the runner that tracked her down didn’t know all the details himself, with so little time left she and Dani had to report to the ready room at once, where they would be expected to wait as the first match finally finished before a few minutes were allowed for a break and the pair of them were up next, with Raph and Ark on the other side.

She didn’t know and didn’t care to know either of them as it stood, at least there were no microphones to relay what they said to one another, least there had not been in the first match, or at least not in Maria and Gauss’s first bits. Rolling her shoulders as the final call comes in, she turns her head towards Dani and motions her to follow, stepping out onto the field, or in this case a platform made of stone crying back to some ancient civilization, lost to the annals of antiquity.

“Dani. Just regulate my wavelength as best as you can. I want to just get this over with, a tamer and her bear must play with the two jesters for the amusement of the King and crowd. If we do more than that, well who knows.”

The only good thing with going sooner than expected was that it would be done sooner as well. Unfortunately given recent interactions, Dani’s attitude was in decline and it showed on her face, if not her soul. She made halfway between a scoff and a click of her tongue as she followed next to Nadia.

“I don’t wanna be here for longer than needed either,” She replied. “I’ll regulate. Just fuckin’ show off a bit and let’s be done with it.”

Meanwhile, after Raphael had spoken with Chanterelle and realized the brackets had changed when he came back, he felt jipped. Like he couldn’t be the last battle anymore. Ah, but it didn’t matter. That meant the relations between the DWMA and mages could be fixed next match. While he didn’t care for the collateral, he did believe it would have been harder for him to return to the DWMA for books. While he was suited with a harness, his eyes watching the other end of the arena in the safety of the tunnel, he looked back at Ark with a twisted grin, yet a happy gaze. “Alright, Ark. I hope you are ready for this because the giantess and her mad mutt are gonna be rather aggressive fighters. Make sure to tire them out for me, yeah?” He then noticed the lack of excitement he seemed to possess when Maria had fought and he tilted his head in confusion. “Ark? You okay?”

The mage had his eyes closed when Raph asked that question. "Hm? Oh, yeah I'm fine." He said nonchalantly as his own security measure was strapped. "Just considering that I'll need to be careful is all." He stated with a glance toward his hand. Where the fingers twitched with nervous energy.

He breathed in deeply then exhaled slowly. "Alright, I'll be sure to tire them out for you." He reassured Raph with a pat, then moved forward towards the stage.

“Heh, the Mage heads are likely talking about how to wear us down. We Russians know a thing or two about attrition, when it is with us and against us.” SIghing at that, Nadia grabs one of her knives in her left hand, throwing it up and down, catching it by the grip and throwing it to impact and stick into the stone blocks in front of them. As if marking the zone of combat as she seen it.

“Just transform Dani, then we wait on that blue haired jackass.”

“If they just fly the fuck away… just end me,” Dani remarked with a sigh, a light enveloping her and shrinking into the form of a sword in Nadia’s hand.

Once Raphael was in the waiting room with the others Cyrus addressed the crowd. “With no further delay then” Cyrus voice boomed through the stadium, “let the match…BEGIN!”

“Huh.” Waiting for the announcement to finish, Nadia cracks her neck side to side before swinging the sword once or twice, empowering her wavelength and snickering a little. “What a gentleman, Ladies first I see. Then let’s not keep you waiting!”

With that Nadia steps off with thundering force, lining the blade up for a thrusting strike as she came forward.

Dani got to work focusing on regulating Nadia’s wavelength. She could do that much at least. This was supposed to be that “celebrity” from Africa, so she as well had her eyes trained on him, not knowing what he would try to pull.

Immediately his heartbeat picked up. A rush of nerves- but most of all excitement. The prospect he was getting to see what it would be like fighting the descendant of a Giant paired with a Weapon that possessed a wavelength that could grow more deadly based on killing intent was a grand opportunity.

Ark couldn’t have been more glad to not have to fight Raph on being allowed to go first. After all, he was only going to slow them down.

Both arms were already out from behind his back when she lifted off and while his heartbeat had picked up from the moment the two moved, his expression remained perfectly calm.

Casually, Ark opened his gloved glowing hand, and flicked his wrist up.

A square burned a faint orange outline into the ground and a pillar shot up between them in the span of microseconds. Taller than both the two giants and as thick as a massive oak tree, the pillar to the crowd rose up in nearly a second.

The mage didn’t stop there though. His other hand splayed and made a fast push motion and the pillar of earth shot towards Nadia’s rapid approach.

“Heh. Dani do not get jumpy on me, the quickest way to point A to B is STRAIGHT THROUGH!”

With that Nadia stabs the blade into the first stone formation before angling the blade roughly diagonally and pulling back with her free hand to divert the rock formation up and to the side, right past her left shoulder as she parried and stepped to the inside of the formation, lowering the sword and summoning the full might of current capabilities she begins to break through, her hand raking through the gap the blade had made as she plows through, heading right for Ark, or at least where he was.

“...You just wanted to break something, didn’t you?” Dani remarked in exasperation. It wasn’t like she was typically used for something like that, but she was still a weapon, and they didn’t break that easily. “Just watch your step; we don’t know what else the earthbender will try.”

So it seems I was right to avoid using conjured earth. Looks like she won’t be able to immediately render me ineffective as long as I keep that in mind. Suppose it’s a good thing she’s not a full Giant, else this would be excruciating.

Her partner though, she’ll be a problem for obstacles. Doesn’t look like I will be slowing them down as much as I thought.

Instantly, a glowing outline formed underneath Nadia and Dani in the direction they were approaching, and as soon as his arms went up, two walls of earth rose up to seven feet, and as Ark crossed his arms, the pillars slid immediately to press Nadia from the front and back.

As the two pillars showed up with sudden speed, there were a number of scenarios she could take, but it was clear that Ark was up to something or another. What? Well that, Nadia could not yet answer. However his current attack had a number of openings, but wanting to stick to her mobile battle concept, Nadia scoffed at the 7 foot tall obstacle, snorting a bit dismissively. “Heh.”

Leaping up with her own power, she gained considerable distance, then dug her feet into the rear most wall to push off of even more to clear the forward wall. Tauntingly she calls out; “Coward! Do you think a little dirt will stop me?!” She says in an angry shout as she looks down from the forward wall, beginning a rapid descent.

“Doesn’t need to.” And then seven pillars shot out in front of Ark, bending unnaturally towards Nadia’s approach at different speeds. Each one as thin as an arm, rapidly moving together at different speeds before suddenly shifting into a series of dull spikes. Ark meanwhile backed away as if expecting the two to cut through it or evade his wall of spikes with ease as he took up a stance. Shaking out both arms to remove the brief shake in his arms, where as he pulled both of them up, pieces of the stadium broke off the ground and assembled around his left and right arm as well as his shins in a mock form of armor.

“Why fucking wouldn’t he be able to do that…” Dani remarked with displeasure. “Watch it, he’s probably planning something with those wristbands he pulled up too.” Unless he just wanted to see if they could withstand a Giantess smashing a steel object against them.

“Yeah, I see it.” Nadia says simply as she dives her fall towards one of the arms, swinging the blade in her free hand, she spins and slashes, cutting the strands here and there as she then grabbed hold of another passing one and lifted her body one handed, swinging off of it she dives to the ground just in front of Ark, raising the sword up horizontally with her arm pulled back and the blade raised in a ready stance, she steps off forward. “The only way to tell what it is is to go in anyways.”

The second she landed, Ark was already moving forwards with an oversized fist made of earth. He punched in her direction, moving swiftly despite the weight that was affixed to his right.

As his fist rose up with its earth, Nadia met him in kind with a parry of her own from the blade, stepping in close as she did so, the blade carrying over to the side as she stepped in close, unleashing a shallow kick from her right leg, aiming for his ribs on the opposite side.

A puff of sand was what she felt as the strike landed but Ark stayed rooted if only grimacing as the blow landed and sand fell off his side, crumbling to pieces and falling off his body. The grimace turned into a minor grin, as in the same instant she landed the strike, Ark opened the parried earth fist to send the whole earth hand off his gloved one. Shooting it like a grabby projectile towards her.

As she lowered her feet, she was too close to dodge or cut the earthen hand off as it came for her, being slightly larger than a human hand, its realm still fell within what she could grab. Though her ability did not allow for immunity to magic like with her kin, it could and did weaken the bonds of spells being sustained against her and could nullify many spells of the lower tiers. In this case she made full use of the former and gripped her left hand into the earth made one, squeezing and breaking down the very magical presence that allowed it to hold its form as she swung with her right hand with the blade to smash the rest of it from the side.


Only to be met with a forceful shoving kick to the gut as she destroyed his flying fist, that Ark then followed up with a minor trick, raising the tile just behind her foot after his kick made contact to further tip her balance.

With her footing shaken, Nadia keeps following through with her slash to knock the earthen hand away as she fell to the left, tucking in during the fall and holding the sword, she drops low and spins out with her right leg, twisting her body as she aimed for Ark’s feet.

Ark lifted a finger and the place he stood on shifted inches upward, just in time to take the slash. Sweat dotted his forehead. It’d been awhile since he stayed in this level of close quarters with anyone. Nadia’s remark did get a huff in the form of a chuckle as he shifted the land below her to raise the platform where she was above him.

“Watch the floor,” Dani called out as she noticed the ground began to shift.

Jumping forward, she knew she couldn’t kill or seriously maim him, well at least she shouldn’t, she did need to keep the pressure up.. “Da, da.” She says in reply to Dani’s warning, while he may have been tested in Africa, she had spent the last several years in the DWMA as well on the line. She wasn’t untested and knew enough to get in close to mages, given her natural talents she spent as much time dealing with that as she did on the left overs of the virus.

“Boost!” While not saying what she meant by that, Dani would feel a sudden directional spike in Nadia’s wavelength as she focused energy into her legs and sprang forward after quickly righting herself, already she was drawing the sword back and aiming a swing into Ark’s armored portions. So long as she didn’t take an arm or a leg the DWMA wouldn’t care.

The obvious spike in his heart rate made it through to his soul. Ark panicked when the actual thing he should have done was react. Reactively he brought his arm up like a twit to block her oncoming approach instead of doing something more productive- and then raised his other arm, like a fresh learner in combat, to aim a punch in the direction she was approaching from.

Nadia paid attention to this and grinned a bit, half wondering if he was trying to sucker her. Or if he was just so used to his magic that he had no skills in hand to hand combat, ultimately she settled on a middle ground to keep up an alert with him but also to continue her offensive, quick, pinpoint, devastating. To keep in close and rip him apart, well, bruise him up. As his fist connected with her, she smiled, the blow not doing too much in her current state, in a way it was akin to getting punched by a child. Sure it did hurt some, but for the ground pounding Russian it was something that didn’t slow her down. Reaching out with her left hand to grab the punching arm as she followed up with recalling her side strike, she grabs and pulls behind while turning in an attempt to uproot Ark.

Which worked easily. Given her strength and his balance was completely off, Ark foolishly leaned into her pull while trying to use his other arm, only to feel his balance slip completely.

As he sails past her and onto his side, Nadia walks carefully towards what short distance was between him. She very much enjoyed battle, the struggle, the brilliance and her utter domination of whatever was in her way, or if forbidding that, anything that she could outthink or out last. So far this mage was anything but. And given all the tales about him, this angered her. Was he holding back? Was he really so weak? Did he think she would not break him?

“Heh. Lion of Africa or some other nonsense. Get up, mister Africa.”

Ark shifted quickly to his feet, remaining low to the ground. The sarcasm in that one line pretty much summed up how he personally felt. That was horrible, and even he would have cringed at seeing such a beginner display from someone he knew could do better.

With that she drug Dani along the ground, causing sparks to ignite upon the packed stone flooring, as she walked over and kicked him with full force in the stomach, sending him rolling across the grounds with considerable force. “The crowd wants a show, start performing or I’ll make this a one woman show and take my time ripping you apart piece by piece!”

“Oi, how bout I drag your face along the floor and see how you like it. I ain’t a fuckin’ paintbrush!” Dani chastised, her scowling visage briefly showing in the sheen of the blade.

“Ah.. Well I couldn’t cut him, Sorry, sorry, I’ll get you a nice meal.. Once we’ve won.”

On the one hand, he appreciated not being stabbed. On the other, was this really what he wanted to show the DWMA? Three or two days ago he’d been doing just fine against his own cousins, but then again that had been more out of familiarity. It was the unfamiliar opponents that put him more on edge and raised that sense of caution. Nadia was right though, if this was all he could do…perhaps tagging out now would be a good thing.

Then again, it’d also be such a waste to miss this rare opportunity. Despite his frown, she had a point. Clapping the tile with his gloved hand, he got back up to his feet and backed up, shaking the odd sensation in his arms, and rolling his shoulders.

“Alright.” He breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly. “Let’s try this again.” His eyes shot up into the distant crowd and made contact with someone, he closed them then looked at Nadia and Dani with a different gleam.

“You better be ready for this.”

Four feet away, and he still threw a punch. The punch released seven of the tiles on his forearms at Nadia in rapid succession, like gunfire, each tile shot forward off his arm, depleting half of the armor on his left arm as he made the strike. In the same instant, the book that had been affixed to a loop on his waist, flashed bright orange and in the instant those projectiles went off, four of them burned hot like coal.

“Heh. I’ve been Ready.” Approving of his new found resolve as he used the tiles as projectiles, she seemed to slow time in her thinking and view of the situation, adrenaline and wavelength amplification flowing through her. If she could resonate then she could have stopped all of what was being aimed at her, or at least attempted to do so, quickly she moves the sword in a duelist stance, the blade striking out against the plates, while fast in speed they were still large tiles, and thus did she strike out at three cutting them down as she picked up speed and ran to her right and his left, dodging two more as one went right by her head close enough to move hair and another slammed into her left shoulder, her enhanced body showing only the slightest of reaction, the four glowing tiles were of immediate notice to her and were now the priority as her left hand reached down to her hip holster, a lower mounted one at Dani’s insistence, throwing the knife horizontally she intercepts two of the tablets and strikes out at a third with Dani, the burning hot tiles shattered, as Nadia moves her left hand up to snatch the other plate, gloved protection meeting the seemingly searing hot plate, her enhancements providing additional defense that a normal human would not have.

Right that second, three circular poles of earth shot out at an angle in vertical fashion, coming out of the ground at a diagonal angle, one going for Nadia’s chest, one going for her solar plexus, the third going for her gut.

Stopping the plate, it seemed the mage was rather fond at hitting them with the ground, a triple attack this time, with the blade aimed high and mid for interception she strikes out at the two coming for her at the chest and solar plexus, finding the sword easy to redirect as she slashed out and cut the two fairly short from reaching her with a spinning slash, the one at the gut hit however. It was interesting to note that Nadia had driven all of the air out of her lungs and was inhaling after the strike, protecting her insides, and though pained not collapsing from the hit as she rolled her shoulders, flicking the blade, or Dani clean from the soil fragments off to her right side. With her left glove cooling from the heat, her expression did not seem to hold him in contempt as it had before.

Hands swiped to the left and the earth under Nadia glowed before rapidly sliding to the direction he swiped. Dropping his arms and raising a wall up into the path that the slab Nadia was now surfing was heading towards, Ark stomped and the thin wall of immense height fractured with his movement at the base, swept out with his left arm and it glowed briefly, tipping forwards towards her.

“Fine. Now I will break you.” With that she seemed to take the infamous mage of Africa a bit seriously, if the ground under her would always turn out to be an enemy any time she stood still, then it was simple, keep moving. While she could not kill him and it was ideal that she not seriously wound him, they said nothing about cutting or pummeling. Leaping off of the pillar and jumping to the rear, it was unfortunate that it would open the distance between them, but she was not about to let a giant wall of earth land atop her just as she wanted to get closer, taking off at a high speed run off to the side as she worked to go the long way around– a snap and the earth wall that was about to fall cracked, fractured- then became a rain of stone –cross arm reaching with her left hand Nadia grabs her 2nd knife and throws it with full force, aiming for the Grimoire to disrupt the spell, or to force him to shift concentration.

His eyes narrowed and on instinct Ark brought his left hand down and shifted the earth underneath him to the side– only to feel something sink into his thigh that shot a spark of pain through his left leg.

For a moment Ark paused to see what had hit him, spotting the knife. His jaw tightened. Runes on his gloved hands glowing; the scatter of stones falling towards the ground froze mid-air, and with a grimace, he pointed a finger at Nadia.

The stones began firing in her direction. One, then two, then four at a time, before the whole torrent of them began shooting in her direction. Tiny little rocks no bigger than coins but shooting at pitching speeds. Something he knew from experience wouldn’t kill an enhanced Meister using Amplification nor one with their partner during Resonance. But would certainly cause pain.

Well, that was not expected, the knife stabbing him in the leg. His choice if he decided to block with his body to protect the book, though the longer this went on the more trouble they would be in for different reasons. “Tch.” Looking at the blade, she speaks. “Keep up with me Dani..” It was then that he returned fire with the wall being converted into some sort of shrapnel shot.
Next time I’ll aim for your goddamn hand.

“You want to try and break me, then let’s see what you can handle.”

He clenched his hand and random stones burned bright.

As the shots fired, or the shrapnel rather, she was no sort of master high speed blade master or clairvoyant. There was little choice but to take the shots and bear the pain, though she had little spots of blood here and there, she did manage to use Dani to protect her core, watching as he seemed to revert to his heat, this was getting old. It was a shame she and Dani couldn’t use that ranged attack. All she could do was defend as she closed in, her clothing dirty here or there, but like most DWMA issued items proved surprisingly durable to the rocks that had scuffed it or caused some surface bleeding.

That’s when he switched tactics and while the heated projectiles tapered off to the remaining stone ones left, Ark rose a cylinder wall up and around Nadia–

Nadia for her part scoffed and spoke out loud; “Who the hell do you think I am?!” Rearing back with a fist and focusing her power forward, the woman known for running through walls, runs and punches her way through one side of the cylinder, though she took some damage, she made it through the collapsing cylinder, with a bit of anger to her eyes, the smirk gone.

There’s that monstrous strength peeking through. A glance at his soul, and underneath the sense of nervousness that was present on the surface, was a keen almost frightening interest.

Ark flicked his hands forward and the ground in front of him and around Nadia vibrated, sweat that had been present on his forehead and dripping down his torso, now was less present since he’d gotten more active. With a pull of his right fist in, a rectangle slab of earth shot out on Nadia’s right side.

“Oi you’re being too careless—Right!” Dani called out as the slab appeared. “He can still tag out, don’t take all this fuckin’ damage!”

Slightly annoyed, Nadia looks at the sword, or rather Dani and scoffed as she dodged the slab with a quick and sudden sidestep to the left. “The fuck you suggest I do, try and ask him to stop throwing rocks and fire at me? If I don’t move and get in close he wins. And we always knew there would be a tag in.. Though hmm..” With that she spots her previous knife from the very start and rushes to grab it. “Let’s see if I can stab him in the other leg.”

“I dunno, fuckin’ dodge more!” Dani retorted, not really having a simple alternative. “Just don’t kill the prick.”

A new slab shot out right after from behind.

Switching her vision, or in a manner switching it up, she decided to look at Ark with her ability to soul sense, to see if it betrayed his movements and techniques as she caught sign of the shadow of the rear pillar, continuing her run she grips the knife in her left hand, fortunately his pillars did not cover too much ground but it did disrupt her plans to advance. “Yeah, yeah, but I can’t keep dodging forever.”

A flash from Ark’s grimoire signaled the obvious sign he’d used a spell, and it was reflected in the spike of his wavelength. The ground beneath him turned dark, shifting into mud then becoming wet and slick. The mud stretched out, not towards Nadia, but all around him. Another flash from his Grimoire, this time a longer glow, and the mud spread faster.

“Mud? Fucking Mages. Wed’ma Ya sru na tvayu mat’!” (Witch, I shit on your mother!) Whatever she had said was likely vulgar and would need a translation after the fact. While she briefly considered throwing Dani and using her as a stepping stone that didn’t make too much sense, but if he thought a little mud would stop her, she was from Russia where it was sunny briefly, freezing mostly and muddy inbetween. The more time she gave him the more mud he would make, though she wondered how one had control of three elements. Those were thoughts for later, running towards the mud at her maximum speed the distance the mud gave him would not slow her too much, not if she seized the initiative. Lifting the knife she aims for a throw, though at his book again rather than his other leg.

A glob of the thick liquid rose with a finger twitch, knocking the knife off course enough that even as Ark remained still, it missed.

Dragging his arms towards himself and then raising his splayed hands up the mud shifted, rose and then became a miniature wave at knee level that rushed forward as Ark pushed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dani grumbled apprehensively. She didn’t particularly want to, but if they couldn’t use her projectile attack, they’d have to improvise. “Chuck me as hard as you can and rush in after. He can’t zone you out if he’s dealing with me in melee.”

“Nee da dyeloni!” (fucked up, literally undone) She says to that plan, then grunts. “Fine, I can go back to beating up people like I used to!” With that Nadia throws Dani like a spear and uses her energy to jump, lunging at Ark as she pulls her fist back, the two would throw themselves at him in brutal melee, the Mage wanted a fight, wanted to change the land and rain it down upon them? Very well, he could rain it down upon himself, get in close and grab him by the belt buckle!

“...What?” The Russian phrases were still lost on the Demon Weapon. Regardless, while it seemed Nadia slightly misinterpreted Dani’s suggestion for a distraction as a two-on-one brawl, they still couldn’t stay getting poked.

As her blade flew forward at Ark, suddenly a sheen enveloped the sword and Dani was back in the form of a human, partially. One hand was still flattened and shifted into the tip of a sword, reeled back and attempting to aim for his grimoire as Nadia had done with the knives.

Yet the entire time the mage’s stance was somewhat relaxed even as Dani closed in and Nadia joined the fray from above. Stepping into Dani’s path, Ark moved with a sudden burst of speed, right arm swiping right in a swift brushing motion and a gush of mud shot in an arc right on to Dani’s side with enough force to push, where in the same instant a pillar of earth the size of a tree, more mud than earth itself shot up to wrap around Dani’s waist in an almost octopus like motion of ensnaring.

Watching the movements, she could not telepathically speak to Dani, least not without her in hand, yet at the same time she couldn’t communicate next what to do, so Nadia continues her run and leaves her left hand open as she rears back with her right fist to hit the Sorcerer one solid time in the gut if he didn’t defend… Well that and so he didn’t notice her intention.

Dani grit her teeth as the mud shot against her and shoved her off course. Though more annoying was the mock tree that formed in her new path and grasped her. While she didn’t have an ogre’s strength to charge through it, being someone who could change their form at will had its perks. It seemed as though Nadia was of the same mind as once again a flash of light took over her form to slip through the snare and into Nadia’s outstretched hand.

Immediately, right before Dani shifted, just as Nadia drew her fist back- Ark shifted his leg forward, flexed his arm, and instantly the arm facing Nadia as if in prep to defend from her hit shot the casing of stone armor that’d been surrounding his forearm- straight towards her other, open hand. In the same instant, the armor along his shifted foot shot forwards towards her trailing leg. Both clamped down, shifting and resizing to accomodate for her own respective limbs, ultimately doing nothing but transferring owners.

It was the look in Ark’s eye that showed he knew what might come next depending on who moved first.

Mud shifted as he brought his facing arm up in the same instant that Dani rested in Nadia’s hand, Ark pulled his arm back, began sliding backwards- away from the two, then with both arms even as he slid, began moving his arms in jerking swipe to the side as he brought them both together.

As his improvised armor forms out to grab her off balance, Nadia roots herself in place, physical force meeting a magic grounded in it, with Ice Blood already playing with the unnatural forces of magic, Nadia has her advance halted, even if briefly as she turned her head to stare at the other, bringing the blade down atop the earthen trickery she stares pointedly. “Your Games End Here.”

Ark had already slid to a stop and raised his hand calmly up. “Tag in.” Then added: “You were right, but looks like you’ve got one more to go.”

“Jri govno i zdohni!” (Eat Shit and Die) Nadia says a bit crossed with the other, but rules were rules, though irritated she lets Dani go and shakes her head. “Before you fuck off give me back the knife!” Now she had to find where the other was, she felt a bit less bad about him getting stabbed.

He’d already pulled it out. Lifting it up and looking at it, Ark made a thoughtful expression, then with a shake of his right arm, the remaining stone that was on his bicep dropped off. Wiping the knife off on the leather of his gauntlet, he approached Nadia, her knife somewhat cleaner, and flipped it to present the handle to her.

“Good fight. Next time, I’ll try to make it more fun. Thanks for the experience.” He smiled genuinely. “Both of you.” Then waited for her to take the blade.

Grunting a bit at that Nadia nods her head. “Yeah, you do pretty well for Dress wearer, or whatever you call those robes. Though I aimed for your book.”

His brows went up. “Ah,” clearly surprised. He had thought it was intentional, that perhaps she’d been aiming for his arms and had just aimed too low. “Then I guess I walked into that one.” He chuckled half-heartedly. Though to be honest he’d slipped just a bit there, letting the Pull get to him in that brief moment where he’d started raining fiery stones instead. “I know you’re resistant to magic and all but I hope I didn’t…” he eyed her, trying to actually see if he’d done any real harm. Though she was, he had been shooting burning coal at her earlier.
“Huh…” he hummed, “thicker than I thought.” Came the offhanded comment. Interesting.” Looking back at her he merely smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Use the time to at least make sure you’re alright.” He advised, not that she needed it- but given the brief back-and-forth between her Weapon partner, Ark suspected between the two of them, Dani might have been the more balanced one in the heat of combat.

Then again the rumors he’d heard about her when he’d been digging for information with Raph, said otherwise.

“Word of advice?” He followed up with her blade back in her hand. “My friend over there you’ll be fighting isn’t afraid to sling low comments either to stir things in a fight. Both of you, watch yourselves.” He patted Nadia on the shoulder- and if Dani had changed back by then smiled in her direction with a polite nod before making his way back towards his side of the stage.

Dani had shifted back to stand next to Nadia once the intermission was called. It was a little weird, their opponent being so well-mannered and polite. The befuddled expression on her face said as much. “You too… I guess…” She remarked back as he left before turning to Nadia. “Kinda surprised he wasn’t so much of a prick… Either way, come on. Let’s fuck off for now.” She wasn’t too worried about the ‘low comments’. She was sure she could keep it together from some shit talk and banter.

Merciless Medic Sir Les Paul EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun Mqueserasera QuirkyAngel Sybil Prizzy Kriyze The Regal Rper --Basically every viewer

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Adrian Hackney​

"The Maiden"​

Species Human
Partner None
Rank Fate Agent

Location Death City, near Oak Street South
Mission First Mission: Finding Shuumie
Status Alert, manic

​

Mentions: Prizzy Kriyze QuirkyAngel The Regal Rper Sybil

It had escaped. Zari pursued. Zosar did, too, although less aggressively. It seemed Adrian had done his job, but it still didn't feel like enough. The tide of the battle had changed significantly, although it seemed like Shuumie never really stood much of a chance against the group itself. Granted, the mission was to recover Shuumie, so that made sense. Missions to eliminate a target typically were more difficult in terms of the combat since capturing a target was often much, much more difficult. Even more so in the case of this aquatic cat thing. If the fight was phase one, the hunt was phase two.

No. No Adrian definitely did not do enough, he knew that. Zari did most of the fighting, Zosar even danced with the feline a little. He had to do more.

The split second decision was to either follow Zosar or Zari. Zosar seemed less intimidating to do so given the rooftop parkour of Zari, but Adrian was here to prove something. After withdrawing his spikes back into himself, he pursued after Zari. His skill at traversing the walls and alleyway was hardly comparable, but it didn't need to be. Not when you could make spikes on any part of your body and imbed them into surfaces. That said, Zari was still faster. He just was. Without his Self-Resonance or pushing his Wavelength Amplification to its maximum, Zari was just plain the faster of the two.

What he caught was Zari tossing the lid of a trashcan at the creature after cutting it off, and now Adrian was opposite to him in the alley, leaving Shuumie no real escape. Until, that is, Shuumie stole a page from Adrian's book on how to keep up with Zari. A nimble dodge of the trashcan, then claws extending outward to scale the decrepit brick of the walls on the side of the alleys led to her shooting straight up, bouncing from wall to wall at a pace Adrian wasn't exactly prepared for. Not only was it smaller and afraid, it was quicker than before.

Adrian was not one to allow everyone else to keep making the forward thinking decisions. Zari fought it off first, Zari attacked it, both of them charged her before he did. It made him feel like he was just following along, waiting for some opening--and that was not Adrian. No. That malice inside him may have died off, but the competitive urge to prove himself had not. Mirroring the leaps and jumps Shuumie used to scale the walls, Adrian did the same, albeit his spikes left larger holes in the brick than her claws. He had forgone the consideration of collateral damage, and forfeit the idea of being as nimble as Zari.

Problem was, even upon reaching the rooftops, Shuumie was still quicker. She was already darting along the rooftops in what appeared to be a haphazard direction westward, to the more upscale area with more flamboyant signage, better bars, more expensive hotels and restaurants that were probably up to health codes. He exhaled for a moment, focusing on his own wavelength to push his amplification harder. He couldn't keep half-assing this. Falling behind these Meisters, or relying on some clutch technique. He had to put in the effort. Seeing Zari in action and Zosar working more in tandem with Adra just cemented in how far behind he was--at least, in his own mind.

He darted off after Shuumie, leaping across the rooftops to follow her and gaining on her the best he could, not paying attention to Zari or Zosar as he did. This was it. This was the tunnel vision that he was known for. At least for now, it was only a chase.

...only a chase.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Zosar | Death City | South District

March 9th

Coiled in his hand, rolled up and held tightly- Zosar followed the others by feel of their soul's. Seeing Adrian and Zari go full-on parkour however he couldn't help but mutter under his breath: "Show offs."

With how things had been going with Adra he couldn't even show off himself even if he wanted to. The Weapon in his hand, twitched. Once, thrice, a fourth or fifth time before she went still. Slack even.

Zosar couldn't help but mentally sigh. Adra's weight was another reason he wasn't moving as fast as he could have been. He was now concerned, not just about her- but about this whole partnership. Running through his mind scenarios where he might have messed up, should have done something better- maybe even he should have asked Zari instead questions, considering what he had said in their own introductions. Their link was so thin now, so frail he was certain it was weaker than even Jarvis and Zari's. How long had it been? Two days at most and all that had transpired was nothing but them going backwards instead of forward. Partnerships were fickle mistresses, anything could upset the balance from offhanded comments taken to offense to minor jokes that rubs the other the wrong way- but his understanding of resonance told him that these kinds of fixes were manageable. Theirs? He wasn't sure. It'd been weak to begin with when they'd started and now it was even weaker. Midori had said it would take time and he'd be willing to wait- to be patient or try to summon up his past self's once most powerful character trait--

--Zari disappeared into an alley up ahead, Adrian following. He heard the clatter of what sounded like a trashcan-- more activity. Picking up some of his declining speed to catch up to that path, it was good he hadn't fully. Shuumei suddenly darted up out of the same alleyway and made a dash over the rooftops.

--Damn this is GRAH! he exhaled slowly from his nose, slapping frustration away like it was his bitch and focusing it into flaring his wavelength for his next step he shot forward a few feet, did it again, shot forward another few feet- keeping Adrian and the aquatic beast in his sights as he moved along ground while they moved atop the roofs.

Yet even with his focus on the chase ahead as he followed, using partial parkour to hop off a car's hood, leap over a fence, flip and grab rails, flip himself over and leap off it to bounce off the ending edge of a wall out of the alley, Zosar's mind could not help but loop back to his distant partner. Experience with past cases as an Enlightener told him he should be patient- should understand, let time do its work. The thing that was frustrating for him though was that he did-- it was just spending most of his time stomping down most of his previous feelings of irritation had eroded the patience and understanding he normally would have had for situations like this.

Part of him, the part he kept locked down and under control, felt Adra was doing this intentionally. Maybe she was so fed up with everything after what had just happened with Zari she was just plain done. It infuriated him, somewhere deep down to even think it- but with professional ease, that thought was banished swiftly to the deeper caverns of his mind. It was like his therapist said, even if he had shared little- not to let those dark thoughts consume him and cloud better judgement.

He'd made that mistake nearly attacking his old partner at the time, its what led to him getting this collar on, he wouldn't make it again.

Giving up on her was the last thing he'd do now. He wouldn't. So many had done it to him after he had been unveiled, and it was fair play given he'd lied to them all even if he didn't like it. He had deserved it. Adra, by her own rights had every reason to not hold a shred of faith in him either just as much as Midori said he saw she held even less faith in DWMA. Until she told him this was over, that she wanted out of this partnership, that she wanted nothing to do with him like others had before, the ex-merc would just have to hold on to that paper thin thread, and hope she'd be willing to meet him half way. That was all he could do- even if he was annoyed as hell through it all- he wasn't about to just give up on this until she did completely.

And that's when he heard her voice. For the first time since their partnership- it wasn't a low echo of what it had been, it was clear- crisp. Like she was standing right next to him and speaking. There was no frail echo or distorted hiss that accompanied her words, the weight he felt in his hand even felt lighter. His brows twitched, mildly surprised but more focused on keeping Adrian and their target in his sights.

“Let’s get this over with, I owe that blonde tattooed fucker a right hook to the jaw.”​

Zosar snorted. "Sounds fair to me. Let's keep chase for now" his eyes noted the change in signs and scenery as he ran, entering the open road, ignoring cars- jumping over them, using them as leverage as he moved. "Unless the others make a move I want to see if we can locate those kittens of hers before they become a problem later."

Shuumei for her part showed no signs of being easy to catch. With Adrian on her tail the feline really had taken a book from Zari's maneuvering. The smaller form she possessed not only made her faster in agility but made it easier for her to use the city's design to her own advantage. Having the ability to shift into an aquatic state provided her flexibility their bodies couldn't achieve naturally. Even with Zari following after with Jarvis' support, any attempted movements to slow her down- she'd bonelessly dodge, becoming water, dividing herself into parts, coalescing and reforming while moving or slinking down into the gutters of a pipeline on the rooftops before popping up on the ground and darting towards her destination.

Groundbound she was even more annoying. Whip strikes Zosar used with Adra missed her by seconds when she would break herself down and shoot off into a nearby alleyway- back onto the rooftops, avoiding Adrian by seconds and Zari by moments, only to force them to parkour back up after her.

If she saw a nearby puddle, she would launch herself off an adjacent wall straight towards the ground and splash into it, leaving a glowing puddle behind her. The few active around, might not even notice her passing by most when she stepped on the rainwater that had formed from gutter rains and triggered an explosion of acidic water to deter Adrian and Zari's pursuit, or released projectiles that she launched behind her in her take off, where the average person didn't even notice the cat was the one doing it. But in the few rare cases, with Zosar trailing along side the others from below to counter Shuumei when she decided to dodge her pursuers above, there were the unfortunate scenarios where someone crossed paths with the cat in her mad escape- not realizing what dangers they could be stepping into. With Zosar on the ground, all he really did was brutally shove people out of the way from any droplets or use Adra to grab and yank someone backwards into a group of other people to keep them safe from harm; nothing rough to cause actual harm but sometimes the yank was enough to disorient the person he had wrapped in Adra's flog. Yelling a: "Sorry and you're welcome!" as he passed them by.

It brought back memories of Italy, and how he and some of the others had to conduct a hunt for a Corrupted in the active streets of Sicily.

Pulling civilians out of Shuumei's infuriated eager path, led to minor damage in return. If it was not acid droplets that Zosar stepped in the way of, shredding through his clothes and burning his skin painfully- then it was water projectiles that not only Zari and Adrian had to dodge, but he had to assist others in avoiding being caught in the crossfires. Whether Shummei was aware of what she was doing or not, the result was the same. Zosar bogged down as they reached the higher larger hotels, better restaurants, bigger gambling areas, and extravagantly decorated banks and distant town houses.

Yet just as he was starting to get tired of this- he felt something that made him flare his wavelength and move quickly to catch up to the others. In the distance, he felt it. Souls. He couldn't tell what they were but he felt souls that didn't give him the exact same feeling of human souls. Shuumei was heading in their direction- it clicked.

Her kittens.

Zosar poured in the speed just as his team was now reaching what he was sure would be the final stop for this whole chase. He needed to get one of those kittens- if he could get one, just one, maybe he could lure Shuumei to chase him, buy time for Zari, Jarvis and Adrian to finally capture the beast by using himself as a decoy.

He flared his wavelength while he shouted to the others: "Keep pressuring her, I've got a plan!"

And with a burst, he took a different route- hoping this would work.

Adra, the second we figure out where her kittens are, I'm going to grab one of them and make a rush for it! he explained through their now clear link. If we need to grab more than one we will. Be ready.

Mentions: N/A

Interactions: Sir Les Paul Prizzy Kriyze QuirkyAngel Sybil

 

[The Regal Rper]

Cedric | DWMA | Colosseum

In all honesty Cedric had only come to this tournament because he was curious. Curiosity was a dangerous thing when it ensnared the mind, and his curiosity had managed to drag him and only him here. Leaving his other two partners behind to go about their day when they had, apparently, more fun things to do than just sit and watch 'rejects' fight.

In all honesty the fight with the Witch and her golems had been interesting to see. It wasn't often he saw matches between Guild and DWMA members. He rarely felt a need to participate in them and had no interest in trying to prove himself in mock trials with their other side of the branch. His marksmanship and sharp shooting would prove that for him. Either way, watching the fight was something else. He honestly hadn't expected much when he'd seen Thea here, having a sense of awareness that Gauss had been admitted into the program. Given his cousin was one of Thea's friends, the grapevine passed on the gossip, and he knew that the guy was in here. He'd expected some showboating when he got on the stage but in both fights with both Witches, Gauss had actually conducted himself better than he had expected.

It was an improvement, but it wasn't about to change his opinion of the same guy that had hurt one of his cousin's in a stupid fling. He'd warned Lily about him, she hadn't listened- so yeah, she reaped what she sowed- but still. Didn't mean he wasn't sour about it- so if there was anything he really got out of watching the fight before Thea vanished- it was watching Gauss take a few hits.

A pleased smile was hard to wipe off his face. Albeit even he laughed a little when it became clear the Witch had done something with how Gauss behaved at the end.

With the intermission, Cedric's eyes wandered, then stopped. A familiar head gave him pause- then a familiar soul. Surprise crossed his features, and in a matter of seconds, he was moving towards her.

"Temperance?" He called out the female's name. There was no way this was the same Temperance he'd entered DWMA in with her brother. He hadn't seen her in awhile, not since their last team mission to be exact- and that had been quite some time ago.

Then she turned.

Cedric, felt all the excitement drain from him in an instant- replaced by awkwardness.

The last time he'd seen her, she'd been falsely accusing one of their teammates of nefarious activity. Multiple times he'd tried to talk to her- multiple times it'd gone no where. Then she had just kinda...poofed, cut ties more or less. Nexis doing similar. It had been frustrating and also kind of insulting. He had thought they were closer, but then again with all that had happened in such a short time... "Hey?" He smiled at her, at least happy to see she was still in DWMA at all.

"Been a while, huh?"

Mentions: N/A

Interactions: FireMaiden

 

[The Regal Rper]

Gav | DWMA | Training Grounds

Closing the email on his phone, Gav put the device back into his phone carrier holster, strapped around his belt.

Going off on another mission after he'd gotten back only a few days ago wasn't particularly something he'd expected, but work was work and he wasn't about to just reject an offer.

Preparations could be made over the next few days before it was time to go- for now, he had some place and someone to check up on.

Tracking her down wasn't hard. From her place being empty to her usual stops being vacant and no real sights of her, Gav went through the possibilities. The places Miroku might have gone in this city.

Ever since he had found out she had actually listened to his suggestion about returning here to participate in this program, he had been trying to keep up on her in the last couple months. From what he knew of the FATE Program, it was similar to PAEAN, similar but better.

He wondered if Adra was in it. If she had decided to come back and give it another try. He'd regretted not being able to get to know her better- had felt, even with their brief interaction that- on some level- they had clicked, would have even been decent friends, good partners as Meister and Weapon even- but he'd never gotten that chance. Miroku in some ways reminded him of some of the more extreme cases he had met in Paean. People consumed in the same way he had been consumed by his superiority complex and the thirst, the desire to prove he was better than everyone that seemed to even look at him funny. That gave him even the slightest feeling that he was beneath them or their lesser.

As he made it to the Training Grounds, he couldn't also help but think of Midori. Hadn't talked to him much in the last couple months since he'd been going out more on these missions to deal with illicit Magitech activity on top of all the Corrupted that needed hunting- but he had known his rival, former enemy, now friend- was a mentor in the program.

He was proud of the Death Golem. Midori really had come a long way from when the two of them used to get at each other when they'd been in the program.

He hoped, maybe, that being here for Miroku, tracing the tune of her soul to her destination- might give her some firm ground to step on.

His interest in the Demon Weapon wasn't just because she had the tits to foolishly attack a group of agents under misconceptions on her own- but his interest stemmed in seeing the signs. She was headed down the same slope he had been headed two years ago. A path he would have gladly taken to prove everyone on the planet that he was better than what his own blood, and even members of the Guild- saw him as.

The things that had steered him from that path hadn't been kindness, it'd been decent people willing to deal with how- frankly, obnoxious and frustrating he could be.

People like Midori. People like Melissa, like his mother, like Austin, like Skoll, like the Starwulf. Even his own original master, Gaius Raubtier. These were the people that kept him from the path of a Demon- and after all this time and reflecting on it, he wanted to try to do the same for her and others, that his own friends, his own connections- had done for him.

Miruko as far as he knew, given the times he'd asked her, was a loner. Even as he tracked her soul down to where he could sense she was training- pushing herself to go beyond her limits, he knew she wanted it that way. That everyone was a stepping stone. He hadn't met her in Paean, but he knew of her- he'd done digging, done his research- and in a lot of ways he'd been like her.

Manipulation was a key component of Witch society. Power wasn't the only thing, knowing how to play the game. Gav had once thought, if he could play people to the tune he wanted, that was all that mattered. Friends were nice, he'd had them as a One Star but over time they'd decreased the more tense things became before his entrance into Paean. He had a sense of understanding what was going through the Demon Weapon's head- and he wanted to put the breaks on it before she started the program officially. Even if she was going through more therapy sessions to help her deal with that Murderous Wavelength and keep it tamed, even if he knew she could handle it on some level- he knew doing it alone on her own, was just like slapping a bandaid. If she could ignorantly attack the wrong group- then she could eventually snap and breakdown.

He'd hate to have to be one of the people sent to bring her down if she did.

And so despite keeping his soul suppressed the whole time- he flared it. His presence spiked. Became hard to ignore- was painfully noticeable as he emerged behind a tree, smirking as he watched her. Waiting to see her reaction.

Ready in case she reacted reflexively.

"All alone as usual, huh?"

There was no mockery when he said it like there would have been in the past. No malicious intent behind the words when he spoke it. It was just a simple question. He was expecting some kind of answer.

Mentions: N/A

Interactions: @simj26

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan - Death Nova
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Eloise allowed her smile to drop a moment and be replaced by surprise. Normally she would hide one taking her off guard, but there was no harm in him knowing that she didn't expect him to break out into poetry. She listened without interruption before breaking out into a giggle after he finished. It was still unusual, someone so open with her, let alone wittingly. She knew the Steins had a reputation for being a tad eccentric, but she wasn't sure what to call Ulysses.

"Now, did you have that stashed away, waiting for a chance to use it or did you come up with it on the spot? That was way too quick," She remarked bemused, waving a hand flippantly at his hope. "I prefer the carrot rather than the stick. Though if you want a kick in the rear, or the brain, I suppose I could."

Coaxing others achieved results and burned less bridges. She certainly wasn't going to burn the one bridge she currently had, at least not yet. Even if he would be forced to work with her regardless, some brownie points could get some extra favors within reason. Not that Elly had any musical or literature background to actually critique a poem or a song, so if she gave Ulysses a piece of her mind, it wouldn't be regarding that. Though she was curious as to where it came from. Was he referring to himself, was it another attempt at gauging underneath her facade? Eloise would sooner guess the former.

Though, at his next point, a narrowing of Elly's eyes could be seen, albeit subtle. It wasn't as drastic as when he seemed to prod at the mask before. It was more of intrigue than barbed defense. That was the one thing about him that had her instincts telling her to be on her toes. One moment he was entirely transparent, naively so. The next he demonstrated that he could be quite crafty and aware. It would be more greatly comforting, if he was just an idiot or a backstabber, but he didn't seem to be either. Even though she could read him as she wished, Elly still got the feeling that she couldn't quite predict him.

"Aha~ You definitely aren't just a pretty face," Eloise spoke following a brief chortle. "An interesting perspective though, contrast to most. Despite the truth to it, most would still take offense to not being trusted. People yearn for that kind of connection naturally, even if it's unbeknownst to them."

Interactions: Sir Les Paul

 

[FireMaiden]

Temperance Quills
Location: DWMA Colosseum
Interaction: The Regal Rper (Cedric)
Mentioned: N/A
If you suddenly asked Temperance about what had been going on with the tournament, she... wouldn't be able to answer. At all. Maybe mumble something about the golems but even then, she wasn't paying enough attention to even confirm that's what had been happening. Temperance's attention was torn between her phone and her thoughts. Some mind numbing mobile game with bright colors and a half-assed story about a grandma or something flashed across the screen while she let her mind wander to everything else she'd rather be doing at the moment. She shifted in her seat some, looking up at the fight for a few seconds before looking back to her phone with a sigh. It felt...odd sitting here. Though perhaps she'd feel even odder waiting for her turn. To her knowledge she wasn't fighting today, because you had to sign up for it right? Or in the very least they'd give you a heads up. A "Hey, you're fighting for our amusement today!" kind a of thing. Of course, Temperance thought it was a terrible idea.

You never knew who was watching, and Temperance could have sworn she felt eyes on her. Granted, her many therapists said she could ignore it for the most part, it was all in her head. Still though, Temperance felt this was a bad idea. It showed off their fighting styles, their abilities. Which was great for the instructors of course, but at the same time, say someone was reporting to a third party. She hated the idea, which was partly why Temperance had been trying to distract herself with the phone. It wasn't entirely successful, but it had helped the young woman relax enough to, in the very least, not sit with her jaw clenched tight enough to possibly crack teeth.

She has paid no attention to which part of the fights were happening, probably an intermission or something given how quiet it had gotten. And in the quiet, she heard her name. Looking up, she expected it to be someone Infront of her, but quickly figured out that it in fact, wasn't. So she scooted a little bit, turning around to look over the back of the seat. That's when Temperance spotted a light haired man. It took a few moments for a glimmer of recognition to flash over her features, but when it did...she quite clearly had to force herself to not turn away.

"Cedric, hi..." She spoke, a hand rising to rub the back of her neck. It had been what, over a year or close to it last time she saw him. "Yeah, I guess...I guess it has," Temperance added. Her chest felt heavy, an odd mix of shame and embarrassment. Honestly, the woman had hoped nobody from the DWMA she had known would see her again. Save for Nexis and Maddox of course. Temperance looked away, wanting desperately for Cedric to just...go away or something. "What uh...you here to watch the tournament?"

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Ulysses Stein​

"D-Stein"​

Species Human
Partner None
Rank One-Star

Location Death City, Central Main Street, Death-Nova
Mission None
Status Elated, interested

​

Mentions: EmperorsChosen

"It's an older piece, although I improvised a little," he said, answering her question with a fair amount of nonchalance. She wasn't exactly critical of it; in fact, she hardly make a comment on it at all. Perhaps she was still too new to him to give any real feedback. How unfortunate; it's not like he could ask his other friends at the DWMA for input. That type of creativity wasn't really... their style.

His next topic, however, got a far more notable reaction. A slight shift in her face, a new focus to her body language. It was expected, and in a way, somewhat ironic. She could read him like a book, and despite that poker face she had, she told him almost as much about her state of mind as he did hers. She related the idea of trust to connection, but that's not what he meant exactly. He was of the opinion that one could have the deepest of connections, yet not trust a word from the mouth of another. Passion was not always necessary for trust; if anything, risk could intensify feelings beyond belief. Blind faith, that was a terrible thing. Choosing to to believe in someone despite knowing the risks... that is a wholly different endeavor.

He smirked. Perhaps if only to show a sign of what he felt like a win.

"Some people do. I don't believe you do, do you?" he asked. It was yet again, a cutting question.

"Trust, I would imagine, is a tool for you, yeah? Not something you yearn for, but something you recognize the value of," he explained, shedding light on what he meant. "Maslow's Hierarchy of needs, a basic tool of psychology. Before you can reach love and intimacy, you must first have your security met. I would imagine, even here in this city, you are still far from that," he added, also dropping the veil on the fact he was a bit of learned man.

"If I were to speculate a little, I'd say that you ever really feeling secure enough for that would be a great task--especially given it doesn't seem like you really need those feelings. You would be content enough to skip right up to esteem and self-actualization, huh?" he mused, pointing out his theories and evaluating her not unlike the psychologists of the program. Although, his was far more... human.

"Let's assume I am just some 'good guy' wanting to look out for the better of others--just for the sake of argument. That must seem a little stupid to you, yeah? You see someone utilizing deceit, yet the reason is to benefit others? Actions and intent must not align, making a gray area that's hard to rationalize. Maybe I've missed the mark, maybe I've hit the nail on the head--and if I have, then I imagine that makes you bit unnerved. Set aside trust and focus on the word you used: connection. Could you truly make one of those, even with someone deemed good, when rationalizing their motivation is that hard?" he went on, continuing to muse, and feeling his caffeine rush just fade away, slowing down as he spoke.

"Or, just boil it down... can you even make connections here in the DWMA? Can you look at someone and see anything other than their usefulness? he asked, offering her a tone that was half rhetorical and half serious, perhaps posing the question to her inner dialogue more than her actual person.

 

[Sybil]

Adrasteia Chandrice

March 9th​

The weapon kept herself dulled, but it was not without extreme focus. Her time alone was normally spent training or shifting while doing other tasks, so she learned early on how to return her form to a more dulled state it was in when she first transformed all those years ago. Now that didn’t mean it ever was easily to alter her form like that, it was in fact a constant state of focus, needing her to basically hold her breath to keep herself practically harmless. She could take short shallow breaths, but then had to hold once more. Thankfully she only had to do this when civilians and such needed to be moved, so otherwise? She could focus on striking with her partner with her blades and spikes fully on display.

The now cleared resonance between the partners made a significant difference in how she was used, now her meister moving swifter and using her more precisely than before. More precise then she had been wielded in many years… but still shit compared to Samsen despite the way she felt about her first meister. Samsen did have the advantage of using her for many years however so the compassion was logically unfair…. But she couldn’t help but click her tongue at the strikes that missed, reaching her arm out with the whips to grasp at the beast only to be off the mark by a foot or less. She almost said something, but decided to hold her tongue. She knew that it wasn’t his fault, that was obvious.

It was just irritating she wasn’t automatically the best immediately for her.

Adra, the second we figure out where her kittens are, I'm going to grab one of them and make a rush for it! he explained through their now clear link. If we need to grab more than one we will. Be ready.

The words from the meister echoed in her head, her mind trying not to think of all the ways this could severely backfire. She may have achieved the first seal for madness, but her impulsivity was still very much alive.

You do realize that if we touch those things that the mom will get much worse? Like you can’t hold a animal’s kid hostage! You plan to outrun it and do what??

The weapon, despite voicing their criticism, was not about to actively resist. She would assist by simple keeping up resonance, eyes kept open but more or less it was up to her meister.

coded by: @s e v e n

Interacts: The Regal Rper
Mentions: Sir Les Paul

 

[Meredith]

Salem Ossana In the stands, Interactions are open.​

Reviewing the footage of the first fight didn’t take Salem long. Maria, Thaddeus, Noah and Prudence went hard. The doctor peered down close to his phone, eyes squinting, trying to read lips and see what was being said. He’d have to get the audio later; he spent the delay watching and rewatching the match. Its climax – the resonance, the backfire, the explosion – captivated the man as he rewound it again and again. It was exactly what he had feared would happen: and yet, no one was hurt, at least not severely.

It seemed the matchups changed in his absence. Salem wasn’t so familiar with any of the mage students as the weapons or meisters affiliated; they had their own field therapist (who he was assured was a lovely woman, but still felt looked down on by, whether it was true or not) and were welcome to but not required to look for his assistance. It was difficult to gauge how that might impact the brackets.

The worry eating at the back of his mind considered the staff slowly disappearing from the stands. Salem had not had time to ask Emmett what was going on; he had his own job to do and wasn’t on the emergency calling list either unless there was no other adult available. At Midori’s name, however, Salem felt a slight wave of relief. They would try to put a mentor out there if needed – of course – but that bit of comfort satiated the worry in his mind. There were at least enough regular program staff available, no matter the crisis, that Salem didn’t have to embarrass himself egregiously for the school to save face. That meant the literal apocalypse wasn’t happening.

The doctor switched to his messenger. He tapped on the most recent contact as Gauss and Chanterelle approached the stage.

Morning Bells are ringing >ENTER

There was no immediate response, so he shoved the phone in his pocket, folding his hands overtop the front edge of the banister and leaning forward on his elbows to observe the ring. It was still hard to hear, here, but Cyrus was as loud as ever (almost, but not quite, as loud as life). The pair agreed to a disarmed (heh) kind of combat. Salem’s eyes narrowed as he watched the pair; at first they were cautious of each other. Within the first thirty seconds, it had already become a slugfest.

The doctor couldn’t keep the grimace off his face as the pair threw each other into the ground and exchanged brutality. There were breaks in their ryhtme, though, times where it seemed like they gave each other a respectful moment of breathing room before their next advance: the first one was close after their start, but Thaddeus returned it later, letting the witfch breathe in much the same way.

But even though their core strategy – wailing on each other, throwing each other around, and generally almost seeming untrained – was a matter of happenstance or even fairness, there were still reactions to the perception of magic, and the influence of magic was plainly visible on Gauss after he touched the witch’s blood. Salem was familiar with this; it was unfortunate but not unpredictable. He himself had voted for Chanterelle to sit out the tournament for that potential. The real scare came at the end. A charge, a crash, two bodies on the floor. It could have been a disaster-

But it was not meant to be the disaster of the day.

Next up was Ark and Raphael against Dani and Nadia. This was just about the perfect opposite of the fight immediately before it. The earth magic was everything Salem had expected to see when he’d thrown everything into his daybag in a rush to get to the event; the swordsmanship on the other end was careful and protective, but the girls mostly seemed to focus on dodging, he noticed – maybe it was the mage’s strategy of unrelenting force. Elemental attacks finally gave in to melee combat. The raw strength of everyone on the field was enough to make Salem’s head hurt on its own; his fingers raised to pinch his nose as the fight became angrier and angrier. They seemed.. frustrated with one another.

But this fight, this very clever and normal and non-catatrophic fight, ended as soon as it seemed to start. Just a knife to the mage’s throat, just a pair of victors and an unfortunate loser, tagging out for fear that he’d lose his throat (or at least out of magical fatigue). It was a good showing. He would have to congratulate them all for their self-restraint and aptitude… later.

He checked his phone at the end of the fight. RINGING INDEED, said his phone. He’d missed the text and many others. Several group chats were going wild, but Salem didn’t even look, simply replying to his sister-

Not joking. You’re late. >ENTER

People would learn to text him personally if they really needed anything. He was learning useful information right where he was.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Raphael Valerias​

March 11, 2067
Location: Colosseum
Collab with Meredith
Interactions: Ark ( The Regal Rper , Iris ( Prizzy Kriyze ), Rand ( Sir Les Paul ), Chanterelle
Mentions: Gauss, Noah, Prudence, Maria

Before he could continue with Iris or Ark or just about anyone, Gauss and his two weapons were back out on the arena with Chanterelle in her admittedly cute, yet badass get-up waiting. He still looked worse for wear. He approached the monitor, pocketed his things, and crossed his arms as he stared intently at the screen. There was a bit of banter. Talking about a coin toss (pathetic) and then asking to do a battle with no abilities. No spells for Chanterelle. No wavelength from Gauss. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. Of course. What a sportsman. His teammates tried to talk him out of it from what it seemed, only for him to cast them aside, Noah doing that himself and walking back while Prudence followed suit. Gauss went to fight Chanterelle alone, trading blows while she fought like a feral animal.

That got a chuckle from him, but even that soon faded as it was obvious that Gauss had the upper hand in martial techniques, while Chanterelle only had her tenacity and savagery. Gauss made a dent in her from that kick and the scream she made sounded more animal than human, yet it still made him cringe. What was that? Then it looked like Gauss was trying to lecture her how to fight. The boot throwing had him chuckling and he shook his head as she threw off her other boot to whack him with it. That was rather hilarious, but his face fell back into contempt as the two wrestled and fought like hungry woodland critters hellbent on having the last morsel of food.

He noticed Maria left, but he didn’t really care. He was too absorbed in the fight playing on the television. Still, they talked too much. Soon, Gauss stopped to inquire about her pupils. He rolled his eyes. Yeah, yeah, whatever. He was nice enough to give her a break, let her heart stop beating as quickly due to the toxins in her system. Gauss should really try out her toxins. They were really fun, and the memory of going around Death City with her a week before they were officially F.A.T.E. agents had him smiling fondly. They fought again, with Chanterelle having to fight to stop her magic and Gauss grabbing her wrist in what seemed to be a painful vice for nearly breaking the agreement. Raphael audibly growled upon seeing Gauss grip her like that. He wanted to punch that face of his, put a nice crater in it with his fists. Gauss then explained how he fought and Raphael, while shaking his head, paid extra attention. Gōjū-ryū, huh? He’ll have to look at that later.

And lookie here, he was already giving such a lesson to Chanterelle. While Chanterelle didn’t take heed to his advice, Raphael sure did. Timing, hm? Lots of feinting was probably needed. The man probably could just use his chains against him if he didn’t have them constantly burning, which wasn’t good for him.

Finally though, Chanterelle accidentally sprayed blood on him. His eyes lit up with a growing intensity as he watched Gauss sway and look at his hands in awe of the toxins that were running rampant in his system. Chanterelle tried to stop the fight, only for Gauss to stop her and come at her after talking in such a childlike tone. He just watched as the two collided, and then…

Was that a hole?

Fuck whatever Gauss had, Chanterelle was in need of medical assistance. His hands clenched as his head hung low.

Raphael was astounded. His friend, a hole blown through her shoulder. By the man he’s been irate with ever since he saw him. Raphael’s jaw tensed and he glared at the monitor. Upon seeing the two being put on stretchers, Raphael ignored Ark’s elbow jab and ran out into the hallway. He wanted to see his friend before she was sent to the hospital. See how she was doing, if she was okay.

He made it into the hall that would have Chanterelle passing through. He grabbed his phone and sent a text towards Rand, realizing that because of her injuries, the medics wouldn’t let him see her. To avoid causing a spike in his madness and anger, he sent a text:

“Hey, stop the meddies. Seeing Chant.”

He clenched his fists tightly. He wouldn’t be able to touch Chanterelle. He couldn’t, as he would be fighting Nadia very soon. Regardless, he wanted to see how she was. She fought like a feral animal and while her fighting was rather amusing and entertaining, he didn’t have a good opinion of the Thales’ boy. So, he stood there patiently waiting for a moment to wave them down so he may talk to her for a brief moment.

Gauss was taken off and pulled through first. They sped him out; Chanterelle would be more concerned if she couldn’t think of fifteen or twenty people in her life that intentionally exposed themselves to her skin for recreational purposes. Her blood, she supposed, might be worse. The toadstool witch had been pushed off the arena floor on the stretcher by a pair of medics; as they broke into the hallway from the backstage, however, the pair pulled to the side and one of the medics abandoned the stretcher. Chanterelle had come back to some level of awareness sitting in the hallway. She’d refused painkillers and advised both of the paramedics to check their PPE.

One of them was partway through cutting off the witch’s tank top to peel its fabric from the crater of gore impacting her collarbone when the sorcerer approached. Chanterelle’s face was tight; bruising was visible up and down her entire abdomen and the crystallized blood gelling around her exposed snapped collarbone had all but hardened. “I can probably go home,” the witch protested, but the medic shook their head.

Wilting was a good word to describe the witch. Although the damage itself didn’t seem to restrict her movements - they’d already pulled her limply hanging arm into a high sling - she had a dark pallour about her lips, ears, and eyes and her skin seemed to hang in a loose sheet over her frame. Around the bruising at her ribs, a bit of gel permeated, weeping from the impact tearing from Gauss’ boot.

They weren’t snapped, at least, but Chanterelle just wanted to go home and she was vocal about that.

Upon seeing the damage he did to Chanterelle, the beast within him growled. She seemed fine, spoke even. But it still hurt him. The sight, while he’s done injuries like that to others, would be burned into his mind now. That man who sounded so similar to him, the man Raphael had seen as a personification of his own problems, hurt his friend. It sickened him. Her state of being was something he couldn’t bear to see and yet his eyes were glued on every part of her that was broken and bruised. He didn’t want to look away to seem rude, but he couldn’t for his own sanity keep staring.

He looked to the medic currently bending over her, moved next to him, pulled out a glove to put on, and gazed at Chanterelle. Worry and concern was written all over his features, but there was a rage within his eyes. A fury that was waiting to make its move. “Chanterelle.” His voice sounded strained as he kept himself from choking up. With the gloved hand to protect himself from her drugged skin, he pressed the backs of a couple fingers lightly against her temple, away from her bruises. “I know you want to go home, but it’ll be faster if they get you to the hospital. Is there anything I can do?” Two-thirds of his being wanted Chanterelle to tell him to go after Gauss. To make him rue the day he ever stepped foot in that arena; make him feel the pain of what he saw seeing the man taunt and teach her how to fight like she didn’t already know how to despite how obvious it was that Chanterelle didn’t know how to fight against a trained martial artist. But a smaller part of him wanted Chanterelle to tell him not to. To give him a reason not to bash that man’s face into the curb.

The witch smiled at him. She had sat up on the stretcher; although there was blood in her hair she looked remarkably well-kempt for the situation. She waved the medic off as they moved to intercept Raphael and they stepped back hurriedly. “No,” she murmured, “I got the fight I picked. I’m good. Come see me later, though, you know? After your round?”

There was an awkward, painful laugh. It made her lungs burn; the sorcerer looked like a wounded puppy - like he was the one on the table - and although Chanterelle appreciated his empathy, she couldn’t relate to it, that sort of pure concern. The medic looked impatient, but not apathetic. “I still think I lost.”

Raphael huffed and sighed, his concern calming down once he saw the witch smile. He shook his head, almost seeming to chuckle at the end. “Feels that way, huh?” He took what she said and twisted the real reason behind it. He didn’t take into account what she meant by it, his well-concealed fury had colored it wrong. He nodded, giving her a soft smile. “I’ll come and see you. Given I’m not as badly beaten. Might be in the same room recovering, heh.” He chuckled sardonically, shaking his head before looking at the medics as if realizing they have been there this entire time. “Take care, Weed Witch.” Inserting humor to make both parties feel better (or maybe it was a joke made too soon), he softly chuckled before standing up, backing away from the medics so they may resume. A part of him hoped she didn’t have access to watching his fight with Nadia, as he knew she may not have any favors for what he’ll say to the duo. “See you in a bit.” He smiled at her due to her seemingly not batting an eye at her injuries, putting his back to the wall. If he weren’t going out there right now, he’d have come with them to the hospital.

"You too, pinkeye. Good luck out there."

Raphael chuckled and watched the medics take her out of the hallway. He waited for Ark to arrive, where Ark would be getting ready.

---

Raphael returned to the briefing room to watch Ark fight the duo. He had his grimoire back in one hand and his Demon Tool in the other. He watched as Nadia charged while Ark focused on tiring her out. Utilizing the earth and to keep her from him, but she either sliced right through or used one as leverage to hop over the other. It was almost like a sentient obstacle course. Avoid being crushed by moving pieces of earth. While Raphael should have been more focused on the fight, he found himself staring at Ark for most of the fight, watching him adeptly throw up earth to stop her advancements, and then Ark was thrown.

What?

He watched as Ark got up, apprehension on Raph's features. Ark then focused on using his fire and earth, but she threw daggers at his book at his hip. Then he used mud to slow them. Raphael’s eyes widened as he watched with anticipation. He really was wearing them out. Dani had been thrown at Ark and he fought against her and Nadia. It was truly a spectacle to be seen, but of course the two came back together as Ark tried shooting mud to stop Dani from being wielded. However, before Nadia could fight back after his improvised armor was shot at her, he tagged in.

Tagging in… Oh, right, now it was his turn.

Nerves wracked his mind, but he shook his head. He hurried to the gate, knowing that it was now his time to shine. He could hear Ark warning the two about him and he smirked. How cute.

Not like that would help them for now.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Zelda Zemo
​

March 11, 2067
Location: Colosseum
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Chanterelle, Nadia, Dani, Ark, Raphael, Emmett, Gauss, Prudence, Midori
Sir Les Paul , Mqueserasera , Prizzy Kriyze

While the fight was entertaining - boot throwing, Thaddeus actually being kind and giving Chanterelle a break and she did the same for him - the end of the fight had her brow furrowing. It was a little annoying that Gauss didn’t heed her warnings or, if he had, there was no way to avoid it. That line of logic had her calming down. The mushroom witch was incredibly durable. Even with a hole in her upper chest where it was obvious the gore could be seen, she was still lucid enough to be talking. At least from what she could see from her mouth moving.

Either way, she watched Dani and Nadia enter the stage, with Ark coming out second. The sorcerer’s gauntlets were interesting and the gem on his forehead was curious. He looked almost giddy coming out to fight Dani and Nadia and he was at least cordial. Polite. He wanted to actually show respect and that was wonderful. The fight went rather swimmingly in her opinion too. Ark challenged their strength, durability, and agility, while Nadia tested Ark’s reaction speed and nerves. They both also challenged each other to adapt, as they danced between mid to close range. Ark threw earth, molten earth, and mud at them, all in an attempt to slow them down and wear them out enough for Raphael to come forth.

Ark’s words to Nadia had her narrowing her eyes. She had to be careful of this Raphael when he came up next. With apprehension stirring within her soul, she watched the arena, not really having anything else to do unless Rand shot her another text message, or Emmett decided to come back.

She just hoped Raphael wasn’t unsportsmanlike.

---

Noah Wiley
​

Noah was aware that Nadia and Dani had passed him. He didn’t really care about their fight, he was still reeling from the sick feeling, his body aching all over, and his head now pulsing with a migraine. He rested his arms against the edge of the trash bin, resting his forehead atop them as he couldn’t help but think back to their resonance.

It wasn’t … Completely Gauss’ fault and he felt a little upset with himself. First, not reeling Gauss in from both of their high horse moments. It was doomed to fail at the start and Noah being rather intelligent and aware, he should have seen that coming. Second, his anger towards-... Well, everyone. Sara. Gauss. Prudence. Would have been Thea if Zelda didn’t take care of it. And now, Gauss was knocked out, and the last thing Gauss remembered Noah doing was him leaving. Regardless of whether Gauss woke up, it still left a sour taste in his mouth. More sour than the bile he’d been forced to puke. He heard people coming up behind him and he let out a soft scoff.

“Comin’ ta take me to my Meister?”

---

Sara Middleton
​

Sara, who had walked back to the briefing room with a medic in tow, tilted her head in confusion. “I thought you needed to get checked out-”

Noah shook his head, silencing her. “I did. But…” He trailed off, daring her to question why so he had another reason to be upset that wasn’t Gauss’ state. Luckily for Sara, she understood and nodded.

“Alright. According to the medic, your symptoms should fade within the day, maybe tomorrow if you get some good rest. If you’d like to be by your meister’s side, I’m not stopping you.” Sara nodded, the medic coming over to usher Noah up. The weapon stood up, allowing the medic to hold him with his arm under his arms, and one of Noah’s arms over the medic’s shoulders. Noah had them both stop short beside Sara, and he hooked her in with one arm around the neck.

“Thanks…” He softly said, resting his face in her hair and rubbing her behind the ears before he let go, feeling her warmth around his midsection until he was escorted out.

Sara watched him leave as she wondered how their partnership would work out. However, her own thoughts went back to wielding Midori. Taking her leave from the briefing room, she found a secluded area of the halls and sat down against a wall. Normally, she would have incense burning, a mat under her, and a far quieter place. A place of serenity and harmony of mind and body. But for right now, she couldn’t get that. For right now, she just needed to focus on the requirements to hold Midori. Killing intent? It wasn’t bloodlust, was it? That Hoshi lady’s tone, no matter how cold she sounded, was likely out of pride and warning. Either way, she didn’t want to prove that lady right - that she couldn’t do it.

She didn’t know how well a simple meditation would help, nor would it answer any of her questions, but for right now she needed to focus inward; on herself. The crowd and other noises disappeared from the foreground as she focused on her own breathing and her own heartbeat. She had to at least make it easier to focus in the up-and-coming fight, quash down her anxiety, so she may fight with intent. Just like Midori probably needed.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Too Close A Call​

​

Three minutes? What a load of shit. Well not that it mattered too much, Nadia still had the ability to continue on, sitting in what amounted to a dugout by the entrance to the ring she had no reason to use up her time and energy walking back to the breakroom and here again. Rising to her feet she hoped it was enough of a break for Dani as she grins a little, motioning for the other to follow.

“Let’s go, the people want to see the circus afterall.” Climbing the few steps that led up to the platform, she looks at their foe coming from the other side as Nadia looks back at Dani. “This one may need to get a bit brutal, but we’ll see.”

Soon the match would begin then they would see just what all he had to say to them.

As Dani approached Nadia, she wasn’t as excited about the next round as her meister. Scoffing a bit at that, she followed next to her in spirits down somewhat.

“Fuck the people,” Dani remarked coldly. “Oi, remember what I said. Just show off a bit. We don’t need to go like the last match…”

It should’ve said something that the treatment of the fight made the Demon Sword empathize with Gauss of all people. He looked dead on the ground, may have been dead on the ground, and the dandy prick just prattled on as if it was an opening act at a concert.

“Neither of us needs to die or kill him so these cocksuckers can have a laugh,” Dani remarked.

Raphael was pleased with Ark’s performance. He wasn’t so sure if he was fast enough to react to Nadia if she still had the speed she exhibited before in her fight with Ark, but only time will tell. He clutched at his book and closed his eyes, even breathing steadying his nerves. No, he wasn’t nervous. He was giddy. Excited. He wanted to go up against a melee combatant and see how well she could adapt to his trickery. He had seen Ark’s grimoire was at his hip, but he realized he didn’t have another Demon Tool to recreate what Ark did. He’ll need another.

Regardless, he walked out, the eyes of the crowd sending a shiver down his spine and a grin growing on his face. His blacked-out eye with the cloudy, white iris seemed not to focus on anything, but his red eye stared directly at Nadia. Then at Dani. His grin widened into a shit-eating grin, his eyes widening as he already felt the Pull starting to affect him, the madness within his chest growling and clawing at a chance to act out.

“So, the infamous Raspopova and Daniella. Nice to finally have this momentous occasion with you as my opponents. In front of a live audience, nonetheless!” He threw out his arms to gesture towards the crowd, his three chain links in one hand and his book in the other. There was a bite to his tone, even though he said Nadia’s name correctly in a Russian accent. It was obvious he practiced. Despite the edge to his tone, he wasn’t insulting yet, but he was like a snake rearing its head with fangs bared. “Well, let’s see how you both fair, my dears.” He cooed, the look in his eyes rivaling Maria’s own terrifying gaze as he stared at them with a psychotic glee reflecting in his uncaring eyes. His actual smile stretched across his face, but there was nothing joyous about it. It was near insanity.

“Oh, Infamous am I?” Nadia said in response to Raph’s sudden outburst. “Someone I know would like that look, but alas I may have to correct you. Though credit where it is due, Raphael isn’t it?” Nadia snaps back with a hint of arrogance on her face as she looks at Dani, holding her right hand open. “It is so nice to be on a first name basis with one another, we should thank him in person.”

Dani stared forward with an uninterested gaze that slightly cringed when he used her unabridged name. “This is the chain freak, huh…” She mused aloud before glancing to Nadia’s open hand and then back to Raphael. A light enveloped her and shrunk around her form until her pink blade shot into Nadia’s grasp. “Careful, doesn’t look like the collar’s working that well.”

Watching the woman transformed into her sword, Raphael studied the weapon. The shape, at least, as he held his chain by the last two links, swinging the last chain link in circles in a relaxed manner. “Ohhh, a lot of people know you two but some of their opinions aren’t exactly positive. But yes, I am Raphael.” His grimoire started to softly glow as his chain slowly began to grow in length, the growing end glowing white as it materialized from his Demon Tool. [“You aren’t as infamous as I am, however.” His grin became toothier as he stared at Nadia, getting ready for Cyrus to reach zero so the fight could start. His chain reached half an arm’s length. “I have done many things that the police should apprehend me for, not that I blame them. After all, no one can truly understand what they deem a menace to society.” His tone shifted to a near cackle at the end, his pitch fluctuating on a strained high note as the adrenaline coursed through his body. His chain was at a full arm’s length now.

It was at this point he realized Nadia was far taller than he originally estimated. He towered over Dani, but Nadia was just a couple inches taller than him. The smile on his face twitched, the psychotic grin becoming a smiling grimace as his very pride felt threatened.

Twirling the blade a couple of times in her hand a bit lazily as she looked at the chains and his book she smiled thinly at his explanation, bringing up his own record or his stated feats, or hinted at at least as she noticed a little something about him, the unmistakable sense of pride.

“That so? I’ve never even heard of you.” She says in regards to his own infamy. Taunting him a little with that fact. “Maybe you should just tie up yourself and let the police have you then, make up for these crimes of yours given how much they seem to bother you so. Or maybe I should just hand you to them.” Watching and waiting for the countdown she walked around a bit staring at the young man as if disinterested.

Nadia could hear Dani a scoff resonate from within the sword. “If he’s gonna jack himself off, he could do it by himself and let us dodge this bullshit.”

Disrespect was all he saw. Disinterest and disrespect.

That was okay though. He had plenty of time to show off. As Cyrus counted down from ten, Raphael had ample time to say his thoughts on the matter. The pride within him roared as the collar began to click, before a rational thought interrupted the series of clicks and kept his madness at bay. He had time. Now wasn’t the time to look like a fool and make himself look worse. He simply chuckled, but it foreshadowed malicious intent. He could just feel his father looking at him and hoping he didn’t do anything stupid.

Well, he was. And he was going to capitalize on it. “Never heard? Well, I never heard of you either, until recently. But, ah, the crimes. Already did my time.” While it was true, it also wasn’t. Technically, he was saved by the DWMA from having to do time and did community service with therapies and some such nonsense.“I would’ve been a lost cause as I was a possible candidate when the Paean Program started. But I don’t think they’ve ever seen me fight anyone since admitting me into FATE…” His voice trailed off, the tone darkening some as he sighed and opened his book to the first page. Right as it was time to fight, the book began to glow and a rune was placed on the ground in front of him.

Waiting for the countdown she would go at full force with him, she had energy left, though she could not deny her damage, if she and Dani could be of the same mind even briefly then they could do this. The chains were of concern of course, but she would have to just overpower them or think outside the box, she had her knives back. Still something about his talk both amused and irritated her.

“Is that so? The DWMA always seems to give a helping hand to what it can use. But hmm..” Three...I will break you.” Zero.

And with that Nadia flared her wavelength as before as she charged forward, her left hand open and her arm hovering just off to her side, what she intended with that was unknown as she went into the clash.

Nadia charged, saying how she would break him. That made two of them - brutes who broke people. Just that, Raphael didn’t rely on brute strength to need to break someone. Swinging the chain to the rune, the rune activated and the chain stuck to the ground. Raphael was aware of the open hand. He was fully aware that his chains were still physical that could be held and used against him, and it was for this reason he didn’t want to go up against someone who had a more defensive way of fighting or had experience with something like this.

He jumped to the side with surprising agility, yanking on the chain down low to create a tripwire low enough to hit her shins. Just to humiliate if she ever fell for it. His book glowed and two more runes appeared on the ground. Soon, their field will be littered with his anchor points.

Taking note of the rune points, Nadia stopped just short of the tripwire, well if a chain could be humored with such a name and her left hand darts to her side as she picks up one of her combat knives and hurls it at the nearest rune point to see if any sort of reaction would be registered.

As it was pierced, the ground the rune was placed on had too deep of a cut. Instead of it standing out in bold, it turned grey and began to slowly disappear. Raphael’s lips curled up for a moment, his smile now turning malicious. She had stopped right at his chain, and he smirked. His book glowed and he whipped his chain, the chain breaking near the anchor point as it shot up towards Nadia’s face. “Mutatio Hamo!” The tip of the chain transformed immediately, cloaked in white light, before revealing a hook, having put more of his magic into the spell to make it change faster. It now had two hooks going up to Nadia’s face. If she wasn’t careful in grabbing it, the chain could wrap around her limb from the momentum and sink the hooks in.

Watching as her knife disrupted the rune, this gave her a strategic chance if she planned her advance carefully, but before that the grinning fool had begun another attack as the chain was hooked and turned against her as she yelled out in Russian; “Cuchka derganaya! Poydi k chertu!” (Crazy Bitch! Go to Hell!) As these words came out of her mouth she spun the blade up in her right hand and parried the chain and it’s two hooks in a wide sweep, letting them tangle around the blade as she put her free left hand around the leading edge of Dani in what could be considered akin to a halfswording grip and she pulled hard, calling out to the other in kind, “You think I’ve never dealt with Chains before?! You aren’t a Kusarigama! Just cheap tricks!” She said in spite as she steadied her stance.

Her Russian words had him laughing in psychotic glee. The pride within him surged as he got a reaction out of her, calming down his madness considerably. He watched as his chains tangled around the sword. If he wasn’t careful, she’ll pull him towards her. Her spiteful words only had him grinning, his book now glowing constantly as he began to use his spells nearly back-to-back. “I may not have a sickled end, but these are not cheap!” As he placed down another rune, the chain’s weight at Nadia’s end was getting heavier slowly. He then whipped the chain, the wave heading towards the sword before it broke off again, the new end going after her chin in an upward fashion, having kept the heaviness from the previous spell at the tip for added punch. The detached chains lost this weight, going back to their original poundage.

As the chain fragments and returns Nadia takes note of the piece coming at as another rune was slapped down, the one end of the chain slapping at her face hits the chin from below, but Nadia does something more impressive or to be expected of her Meister powered up form, bending her head downwards, she takes the impact and shakes it off much like a professional boxer. Looking down at Dani she speaks;

“He likes going for the face, likely given the job of his own. I want you to keep an eye out, or err sense out for sudden Runes near us, I’m going to try closing in with my blade and you, destroy what few runes we need to to get in close.”

She says in a low tone to hopefully keep the plan from Raph. “Least we want to play by attrition.”

Dani's visage shone in the face of the sword. "Alright, just watch for his other shit. Unlike the other guy, I don't think this piece of shit would mind killing or crippling you," She remarked.

Raphael was a bit taken aback, but he should have expected as much. This woman was a beast, able to take a hit from his chains. Why wasn’t she charging him? Either way, the chain slithered back and he spun the now lightweight chain in the air like a ribbon, the chains swimming in the air in a spiral as if they weighed nothing. Then, parts of the chain turned white, he whipped them, and the light burst, sending broken off chain links at the giant. Their weight returned to normal upon breaking off. He swung his chain around, twirling and humming to himself as more broken chains hit the three runes, sticking to them. He stood near them, one of them growing out in a coil while he was stuck with a more shortened whip that was only as long as his arm. Either way, he was prepared to switch gears, to stop his spell and use a different one, if needed.

“Maybe if you can take one to the chin, you can take a branding.” He sneered, his eyes wide as he studied Nadia’s movements.

As the fragments of chain shot off at her, Nadia pushed through much like a linebacker, making straight for the knife she had thrown previously as she grabbed her spare one, throwing it at one of the glowing runes, while not heading straight for him it did bring her closer as she spun the sword form Dani in her right hand to deflect more of the coming projectiles, hardly stopped by such a light attack in her empowered form.

Raphael had hoped it would distract her for a bit longer, but he had wholly underestimated her strength and perseverance. The growing chain on the ground stopped growing. It was as they all said. Tough as a bull. His smile faltered into a grimace before he chanted in Latin once again.“Ignis Catena.” A wave of heat roiled off the chains as they quickly reached temperatures enough to sear skin. It started a bit after his hand, however, the intense heat was making him sweat and his expression fell in a frown from concentration. If he ever breaks this, he’ll end up burning the skin off his hand. He shot the chain at her like a whip, intent on grabbing her limb. The glowing rune she struck popped the chain right out of the ground and the rune faded.

“Tch.” It seemed the witch, well sorcerer was up to no good again.. Well when had any of those magic people been up to any good? Something deep within her thought that this was her natural enemy. As his chains seem to falter and then turn into molten metal, well maybe not so molten. The question was what to do now, while she had some resistance and the ability to right out nullify weaker magics this did not seem to be one of the latter.

However, there was something revolting about the chains. She was not too sure what, but she did not much care for them, it reminded her of the refugee camps, constricting. It seemed he wanted to whip at her arms or legs with the chain to try and catch her up. That metal however was not something one could just casually use to pull in a threat and would devote significant resources to heal. They did not make mention of this in the briefing. Snapping her left arm forward, Nadia punches out at the whipping chain to catch it on the head, but as it started to recoil she raises up her right, stopping the spin and allowing Dani to catch the molten metal, as a weapon this should not harm or damage her, but it was still a sour feeling, at a low level almost inaudible she says; “Sorry.”

She punched it away??? Raphael was also not expecting that, however he did expect her to use her sword to catch his chain around. He smirked wide, the book glowing in his hand and he whipped his chain once again. This time, the chains stopped sustaining their heat and began to cool, but they wouldn’t cool down fast enough when the chain broke apart in multiple sections as soon as it wound itself around Dani’s blade, the broken links either falling or blasting around. However, one of them hit Raphael in the shin and he took in a harsh breath and winced, blowing air through his teeth as he jumped back and wiped his pant leg to keep it from catching into a blaze. He can feel his skin burning and the impact itself hurt like hell. He’ll have a nice blister from that. Just from his own backfire, he decided to yell at her, his voice near maniacal. “You think just because you’re a Jorguün and a meister mean anything? That you can take on any magic user just because you have a physical advantage?” One of the two chains in the ground began to grow, nearing the other coiled chain in length as it also coiled around to protect the rune underneath. “You are nothing but a beast stuck in the past. Backwards, just like the motherland you came from.”

“Hah. So says the Anglo being hit by his own creations. I’m afraid we Russians aren’t so forward thinking about bombarding ourselves. Your people learned a bit of that from the Irish, didn't you?” She says of his first bit the following; “I am a soldier true and strong of my Motherland and of a people you do not know. What does it feel like, having something that can fight against you, a beast of nothing but magic lording it over the peasantry like some fool of a king? Or maybe you want some fish and chips and keep getting angry as you don’t want to call them fries. So tragic.” Nadia fires back and she regains one of her knives.


This would have made him outright angry. Angry enough to stop concentrating, which he ended up doing but for a different reason. The chain on the ground stopped growing. Now, he had two coiled chains ready for use, stuck to the ground. His own anger for retribution pulled by his madness and the natural pull of magic stopped for a moment. He looked at his book, and smirked at one of the pages that it fell to. He stood up straighter and walked towards his coiled chains, standing in between them. That smug smirk on his face came back as he looked at Nadia in the eyes, a malicious gleam twinkling within them.

“A soldier true and strong. Yet, none can be said about your weapon partner. Her brother, the only person who actually gave a crap about anything, and it had to be her that kept living. What sad, wasted potential. Wasn’t even worth a damn, even when he was alive. And now that he’s gone, her worth is far less, never mind her emotional immaturity. You claim to be strong, and while I don’t doubt your physicality, I do doubt your mind. I can see you can’t resonate with your weapon. Is it because you deem Daniella as weak? Or maybe you really aren’t strong because those you swore to protect died and you couldn’t handle it, could you? You emotionally died, so you now treat the weak as if they’re nothing to spare your own sanity. What weakness.” He mocked. “Nevermind me, I’m not perfect. Yet you go around acting like you are the pinnacle of fighters, yet you don’t fight for the weak.”

He rubbed his chest and winced, yet he continued to smile. The chains by his feet began to glow a very soft white. [“You tout around as if you are all that, but I see you as what you are. You are nothing but a weak girl who can’t let go of the past and move on from the deaths and suffering you and your friends had to endure. Shame. If you were going to waste your potential, you shouldn’t have come back on the boats and stayed to die with your brothers and sisters. Maybe their sacrifices wouldn’t have been in vain.” His words held malice, spitting poison with that smug look on his face. He fully knew what he was doing. He wanted them to resonate through pure spite and anger, and they’ll be forever in his debt. He wasn’t a therapist, yet he took it upon himself to do some therapy of his own. He then pointed towards the ground with his demon tool and yelled. “At least you both have something in common, weaklings! Catena, tēla catenae!”

Dani could feel that familiar spite rise in her chest. Though it couldn’t be seen, she stared daggers at the mage in front of them, the only giveaway being the fluctuation of her wavelength to any meisters who cared to take note and Nadia herself of course. That fucking twink. How dare he.

“What I said before…” Dani said coldly. If those assholes wanted a bloodsport, now she was motivated. “Forget it. Put him in the fucking hospital.”

Listening to the man’s words, Nadia takes on the icy stare that she seemed to get when in a bad mood. All around Nadia the air chilled, even Dani likely felt the cold. Much like her spirit room an expanse of pure snowy white could be felt in the air emanating from the ice blood half breed. “...” As if to search for words, her left hand opens and closes as she stops moving, looking straight at him as she kneels down briefly to pick up her first thrown knife.

“If the weak cannot keep up with the strong or wish to do so, dragging them along will only see them broken… But for invoking the dead.. For invoking the memory of tens of thousands who did not awaken.. I will destroy you. If I should fight for the weak, then let’s see how well you survive!”

With Dani still in hand and her message loud and clear, the pair for the first time had a common goal, a simmering rage that had the gates set free. They could not kill him, but they would make sure he suffered for his words, howling with vengeance for the dead and their own pain aside, Dani would feel the start of a connection, or the potential of one, provided she wished to grab at it in kind. With that Nadia steps off on her right leg, pushing forward with great speed and force behind it, it was not like the fight with Ark at all. Nadia and Dani had treated that one like sport, even though the former found it irritating, she had a level of respect for the Mage of Africa.. However, all there was for Raph was akin to watching someone plotting nothing less than a mauling of who poked the bear.


Dani’s rage wasn’t blind so much as it was tunnel-visioned; a pitfall if there were multiple opponents or a complex task at hand. Here, however, there was only one target. A low growl followed the spark. Referencing their first attempt at a connection, rather than vengeful sea pushing and crashing against a stubborn ferry, the waves were directed, pushing the vessel forward. A pinkish-crimson hue engulfed the blade as Dani took the metaphorical hand outstretched, regulating and amplifying her meister.

Raphael was both excited and thrilled on the outside, but incredibly nervous and terrified on the inside. He bounced back, the spell he had chanted for sprung the two coiled chains to life and tried grabbing at the woman’s arms and pulling tight, trying to keep her there if they so much as even grabbed her. However, Raphael realized too late how much pain he’d be in from his goading. Regardless how much they hated him, he also couldn’t help but keep that smug smirk for helping the two resonate, the pink glow evidence of his accomplishment.

But oh, how painful the achievement would be.

Had they achieved resonance? Or were they opening into it? Nadia was not sure, partly as there was something different about this one. Was it madness? That was a good choice, but for here and now Nadia pushed aside such thoughts and concerns, the gnat was right here, right now. Deep down there was something almost comforting about the presence as her ship road the waves, was this how the Jotunn had felt all those years ago? Centuries ago? Ahead of her stood the object of their rage and she was in control, but a price would be collected for this.

As the chains coiled and sprung upon her, Nadia focused her power into one at a time, while they had stopped her it was clear this situation was very temporary as she wretched one out with the use of both arms from it’s rune slot, shattering the source in the process as she switched to the other.

Now that slowed her down only temporarily, Raphael began focusing on his other spells as he backed up. The chains that littered the ground, he swept the whip around on the ground. The broken links snapped to the end and shone with light before the light vanished, the chain whip now doubled its length and with slightly weakened chain links repaired. He spun the chain around so it wrapped around his arm in a few coils and he whipped the other end at Nadia. However, it didn’t reach, but it didn’t need to. With his glowing grimoire, the chain floated in the air, movements slow as it slithered about acting as an almost barrier that would grab if Nadia charged through.

Watching the witchcraft at work, Nadia looked on in silent contempt as the broken remains gathered and reformed, her own instincts and Dani’s urging prompting her to advance. It was far too late for such a thing to stop her, all it would do is slow her down, or so her own reasoning thought, a vanguard never stood at the back, they were never an observer or a follower, but one to press onwards, to attack. Such was her soul and such were the urges she felt from her weapon partner as well. “That shall not save you.” She said as she charged in, ready to meet the coiled chain as she extended her left arm to snatch hold of it in her charge.

“It’s not supposed to save me.” He simply said, that smug smile still on his face as he whipped his chain as she charged in. Immediately, it tried to coil around her arm and force into a sort of lock as he dove behind her and rolled on the concrete, just needing to secure it for a moment before he began to turn up the heat. He can feel the black chain around his own arm burn as he wasn’t expending concentration to focus it in one spot, but to just bring up the heat a little until it was too unbearable for himself. 80 degrees Fahrenheit, 90 degrees, then 100. He gritted his teeth as he quickly stood up and pulled on the chain, hoping she didn’t just swing him around. The strain on the chain was causing some weakened links to creak.

“Quit fucking around already…” Dani demanded in an icy tone as the aura covering the sword seemed to flow more violently around it. She pushed more effort into enhancing Nadia’s wavelength even further. “Break him already!”

As Dani pressed on her own presence, the Giantess didn’t seem to take much issue with it, it was her own idea after all to do the same. Moving her wavelength to integrate and grasp that of the sword she pulled hard on the chain coil. With his magic flowing through the chain followed by his smile and pull, she could feel the strength building up inside of her, and one thing came to mind, even as the metal stung her arm. “Lets see how your face looks with a new look. And Patience Dani, he has not yet suffered enough.” And with that she puts her strength into not just pulling the chain but raring her arm up and then snapping out as if to hold the whip in her own hand in an attempt to bash Raph into the paved surface they stood upon.

Raphael, of course, knew that Nadia would pull on the chain. What he didn’t think would happen would be the amount of strength put into it. Before he could break the chains apart to prevent the pull, he was slung forward. The surprise had wiped the smug smirk off his face as he attempted to bring the heat up to a blazing degree of 120 Fahrenheit. However, the panic at which he tried doing so only did nothing, his spell failing from his own stress as he sidestepped, now way too close for comfort for himself. He didn’t think he could try redirecting her momentum and throw her on the ground, but he tried regardless, wrapping her arm with more chain and trying to budge her by pulling against her, hoping to pull her to the ground instead as he put away his grimoire.

“Patience… patience, patience, fucking patience. I’m tired of being fucking patient!” Dani growled out as her madness began to seep into her words. “DO IT OR I WILL!”

It seemed Dani was getting a bit too into it, not that she blamed her, though her view on it differed a lot, whereas Dani wanted him crushed and dealt with, Nadia wanted to toy with him a bit to make sure he didn’t forget it. Though there was no way they could keep the resonance going if she kept thinking that way. “Fine.” With that and his pull, Nadia was larger, stronger and her footing squared away. Nadia then did the unexpected as she boosted into his pull, the question being how to hurt him without killing him. A slash? A stab? A cut? Hitting him with the flat? She did not forget what he had said, rules be damned so long as she wasn’t disqualified…

With his pull Nadia lunged forward aiming for his right shoulder with a downward swing of Dani, she however didn’t think it would be so simple.

Yeah, that didn’t really work. He realized too late that he was now dangling in front of the maws of a beast as she followed the pull and lunged with the sword heading for his shoulder, he whipped the chain from her arm and held it up with both hands to stop the sword from cutting his shoulder. Whilst he kept himself from being cut - despite how close she was getting as her strength was clearly going to make this sword touch him if he stayed - he kicked out at her knee, hoping to dislocate it or simply make her lose her footing so he could dive away.

The kick did the latter as it lashed out, pausing Nadia briefly in her steps as she glared at him, she clenched her jaw a bit. “The more you run the more I’ll make you bleed.” She says in a taunting reply as she heads off directly for him, he did manage to buy a few brief seconds for whatever he had planned to stop the resonating pair.

Fortunately, Raphael was able to dive away, pulling out his book as he focused on his magic, sneering at the giantess. “Hah, hot. You’re lucky I’m more into men. Ignis Catena!” He swung the chain overhead, the makeshift whip twirling around him to protect him for just a bit longer. As it reached at least 150 degrees, the chain looked to be getting lighter in its motions as he stopped heating it.

Watching as he made an improvised shield with his chain, she pondered just stabbing into it but knew the blade would likely just get tangled if she did so, but fortunately she still had the knife she had picked up earlier in her left hand. Making use of it in the here and now, she throws it at the twirling vortex, aiming to disrupt or trick it up before she attempts something more physical.

“A shame to someone I’m sure, but not I.”

That smug smile twitched into a grimace as the knife sailed through, missed the chain and cut open Raphael’s shoulder as it landed behind him, making him hiss inward and stagger slightly, the chain only losing its momentum before returning to its usual, the heat making Raphael sweat. Luckily, it wasn’t the shoulder that was supporting his arm which was swinging the chain, but it still made him cry out in pain. The emotional jab and the pain from the dagger made him growl, something alight in his eyes as he glared daggers at Nadia, a very similar look Dani would be sporting right now if she weren’t in her weapon form. The madness within him sparked and picked up, but just barely underneath the register of the collar’s sensors.“Fuck you…” He growled, the telekinetic chain shooting forth as Raphael sent it out in a whip, the telekinesis allowing it to not hit himself in the process. With another horizontal twirl and a yell of“Confractus”, several hot chain links broke off, sending the hot metal in a shower towards Nadia.

"Weasley little fuck…" Dani growled in dissatisfaction. That wasn't penance. He deserved more. He didn't know, of her rage, of her loss, of Mikey's pain, of how she watched the light leave his eyes. "Hurt him again… times a hundred! A thousand! He fucking deserves it!"

Nadia actually snorted a little and laughed at the notion of “fuck you” a bemused laugh, a sadistic glee was on her face as Dani’s presence pushed in on her more, the madness of the two starting to feed off of one another it seemed. She would handle it if it came to that. Nadia however was getting tired of this and pondered a dark thought out loud; “For each burn I suffer I shall break a finger on your hand, that sounds fair, right?!”

She says with a determined look as she advanced into the firestorm, counting on her own healing abilities to withstand the torrent, here and there her skin sizzles or marrs, or a whiff of smoke rose from her dress or hair, if she could get closer then he would run the risk of burning himself, grab him by the belt buckle then she could slap him around a bit as her own spikes from the damage fed back to Dani, this had to be ended quickly.

Raphael’s anger on his face had turned to one of near fear before trying to hide within fury once again. That thought she pondered before lunging for him had him actually pause. She really was going to break his bones? What did he get himself into? As the woman barged through the burning metal as if it didn’t bother her, he growled and tried to whip the hot chain around her neck, however his own panic had caused a misfire of his magic. He was always cool under pressure, why was he fucking up now?!

The chains, even if they did connect, lost all their heat as the magic was siphoned from them into the air in smoke, his magic putting too much force into the heat and merely causing it all to be pushed into the atmosphere en masse, ending his Branding Chains spell. Since the feeling of his magic was failing in his own panic and regardless of what she was going to do, he swung a right hook towards her jaw, hoping to do something to get some space.

With his fist connecting to her face, there was a great deal of difference in what they could physically take and dish out, though simple physics demanded her head would turn a bit, it became clear as she pushed the fist back with the effort of turning her head that the mage had made a terrible mistake. “Suka Blyat!” She yells out at him and gives him the space he desired, his own distractions and her ice blood effects cooling the chains as her left hand slid up between them and she backhanded him with a great deal of force across his own face, she barely held back on this one at all, with the sheer force of the blow, Raph would be sent spinning like a top for a couple rotations as his body hit the ground from the boxer like blow. Though being in the DWMA she expected he could withstand that, she would kick him like Ark if he did not.

“Get up. I’m not through yet.”

And spin he did, sending his ass to the ground with a wince. He just… Got slapped like a bitch from her pimp… What just happened? He barely even remembered what day it was, let alone where he was when he heard her tell him to get up. The world stopped spinning for a moment and he realized the eyes. There were so many eyes. Stares. As he got slapped to the ground. While he may have been in DWMA, his own durability left much to be desired, but nobody could scoff at his stamina. Nor at his fury. He stood up rather quickly, despite the wobbling in his legs that left him looking like he was about to unleash drunken fist fighting. If only he actually could. “Yeah? Well, me neither. How about you let your mutt loose for a bit? Looks like she’s just dying to see me bleed.” He spoke with a near-on maniacal chuckle, his eyes wide and with that crazy look that looked like he was on the verge of a psychotic break. He figured that if he had Dani separate from Nadia, he could fight Dani easier. He only needed to beat one of them to win, yeah? Why not isolate the weaker of them? He still had his chain in his hand, and he coiled it around his arm in a nice, tight, protective coil along his forearm. “Besides, Mikey wouldn’t be very pleased that I slandered his little sister~.” He cooed, wanting to see how well he’d fare with a Weapon instead of a Meister.

"Keep his name OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Dani shouted as if he could even hear her. The rage seeped into the connection she had with Nadia and the sword's aura seemed to grow and whip more violently, the madness urging her forward, demanding blood. "I told you to quit fucking around. Cleave him down the fucking middle! DO IT!"

The voice, so alien, yet so reasonable, Raph continued to play with fire, then again that was pretty much what he had done in every sense of the phrase since this started. Why not listen? Rushing him at full power Nadia smiled a bit psychotically as she stepped in, leaving an indentation in the stone slabbing as she went off at full power, Dani, or rather the Madness, quite pleased as she brought the sword up and was ready to cut Raph down till the last minute, a sense of realization dawning upon her.

Mid slice she redirected the blade and brought the flat down across his left shoulder blade, the force of the impact would likely dislocate something in the least or break something in the worst, but it was a hell of a lot less damage than if she took the arm clean off with a portion of his chest cavity. Breathing heavily, Nadia pushes back against the influence, and stands, speaking two sets of words;

“You Do Not Command Me!” She said to the darkness, pressing it back with the Conqueror's Soul, or at least meeting it head on. And then in a softer tone that was genuinely caring she says;

“I am sorry for all that you have lost Dani, but your battles need not be your own.. Even if he deserves it I cannot kill him.” The Resonance would likely break here soon but she had enough energy for one final blow if he was brazen enough to stand up, her left fist clenched as she remained standing right before Raph, while battle damaged, she still had the will and strength to fight.

Raphael cried out and fell to his knee from the force of the blade. He had expected it to cut and it probably wouldn’t have hurt as bad if it sliced clean through, as he wasn’t able to dodge in time, nor do anything with his chains. On his knee now, the chain fell slack with no magic pouring through, his grimoire tucked back into his jacket as he now held his shoulder with squeezed eyes, mumbling obscenities to himself from the pain that throbbed and stabbed like tiny daggers and needles. He had a hard time moving it, and he didn’t know if it was broken or dislocated. It certainly felt like the latter, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to think about that. With blurry vision, he glared at the silhouette hovering above him. It made his madness growl in prideful defiance.

Dani's wavelength roared in response to Nadia's rejection of its will. However, the shift in tone was not lost on her. Even if for but a moment, it seemed to freeze before spiking once again as the anger stubbornly refuted. "No… NO! HE DESERVES IT! HE NEEDS IT! JUST LIKE… like…"

The train of thought led to a grim epiphany. The rage was still there, but met with an icy trepidation and fear. Flashes of memories past and a lifeless gaze televised briefly in their connection, giving Nadia a brief window to Dani's psyche. Her voice when she next spoke was still distorted, but it carried a shakiness to its rumbling.

"no… No, no, no, no--Not again. Not again…" The boisterous demands were now meek, repetitive speech more to herself as the hue surrounding the blade shrunk dramatically, mimicking Dani's tone. "Not again… Fuck not again-" The deadly focus from before was gone, and the discrepancy in drive shot a pain that she felt deep in her being from the rejection. Her repetitions stuttered through the debilitating pain, though the fear and anger still did a decent job at distracting her.

With that out of the way, the fight should be called here soon, his arm, or shoulder was in a bad way and with her rejection, or at least pushback against the madness. The fight was over, even if she was no longer in resonance. Turning her back to the mad dog as Dani shifts back into her human form, the pain and fear running through her body with the rage, Nadia did catch some of what her life was like before all of this, when her brother still lived. Just as some of Nadia’s own life, or the regrets she kept aside leaked through in exchange, it was never nice having those memories dredged up and traded, even if as fragments, that was the bond between weapon and meister. And even if not intentional it showed that the decision wasn’t totally at ends. Grabbing Dani by her right shoulder with her left hand, Nadia seems to hesitate as she takes on a softer expression.

“Not again indeed, I am still here. And so are you.” And with that she gave a reassuring squeeze as her eyes seemed a bit conflicted in what to do for the shaken weapon.

Raphael stood up shakily, still holding his shoulder as he gave the two some words. His tone was softer this time, not like the maniacal psycho from earlier. “I don't hate either of you, or despise you, nor ….. Ah, I said all that to rile you both up. You both are wonderful friends to Maria. My only gripe I have with anyone is Thaddeus.” With that, he would have taken his leave. But he wanted to test something. He tensed his hand, his shoulder tensing and he winced in pain. He wrapped the chains around his other hand, and got behind Nadia, rearing his fist to punch her in the back of the shoulder. The chains jangled around his arm. He wasn’t going to throw the fight, he was going to come down swinging, even if it was a dick move to attack someone from behind when they were obviously emotionally needy.

“Sorry is n-” With that Nadia shifted her body just enough in an attempt to see him just enough so that the shoulder punch was a hit to the back of the head on accident. Her teeth clenched as she was rocked forward, clearly displeased with this as she turned around with some blood trickling down her scalp from the unsporting attack. “Pizdobol, Nebo nad vodoi!” (fucking liar, sky above water!) She says in terse Russian as she spins around and clocks Raph hard in the jaw with a rising uppercut, which was considerable given her standing height as she spits on the ground holding the back of her head with her left hand. “Stay down!”

With that she makes sure he stays down this time.

And he did. Raphael was sent into the air and fell to the floor with a sickening thump. His lights were out and he didn’t move. He was breathing at least, but his hands, which have been clenched around the chain for most of this fight, finally went lax.

Nadia and Dani were the winners.

Dani would’ve torn into him in response to his apology, but given her emotional state, ridiculing him for how utterly bullshit that was wasn’t on her mind. Giving into the rage and madness is what got her into this program and, more pressingly, cost her her only family. She was no longer in any mentality to focus on another.

His surprise attack, however, caused her to flinch and somewhat snapped her out of it. Looking between Nadia and him, it seemed to take the weapon a moment to process before she gained a scowl again. “You-You fucking puss–” As the woman stopped leaning on Nadia briefly, she stumbled a bit and fell back into her. “F-fucking collar…”

Shaking it off and still holding her head, Nadia didn’t even care to stay for the verdict, thanks to Raphael every person in the program and the vip stands with the sound providing TV’s knew about their struggles, their failings, but Nadia was past the point of caring. Looking over the stands she just gave a slow shake of her head and steadies the weapon against herself as they limp out together, from the collar throwing it’s full force against Dani and from Nadia having used up most of her energy and being sucker punched in the head, she just did not care in the slightest for an official okay and dismissal, the crowd had gotten it’s show and they all were the clowns.

She even had half a nerve to stick her middle finger up to them all but thought better of it, nor did she care to check on Raph. Ark had earned her respect, the snake, while helpful, that help was at a cost to both of them that was rather great, he would have a place in infamy for her. For now she would settle for allowing him to live. “Let’s get out of here.”

Cyrus was not happy. The fight ended, sure, but was a hair away at multiple times from being ended by his intervention. What these little ingrates were unaware of is that he was also on a leash, that this Death-damned tournament wasn’t his idea, and he had a little birdie in his ear the whole time telling him to just let it ride out. Something about having faith or some nonsense. But, by the end of the fight, Cyrus had enough.

He switched off his microphone and blitzed in front of Nadia as she walked out, blocking her exit. His eyes were exactly as they were before. Exactly as cold and dull and hollow and lifeless as they were when he told them all he thought all this funding was wasted on him. This was the man that introduced himself at the beginning of the week. This was the man Nadia would remember.

”You did well enough to prevent her from taking over, but had you not, I would have stopped you and ripped you both from this program–I would have sent you right back to the Motherland,” Cyrus told her, his tone sharp and without an ounce of restraint. None of that faux showmanship.

”Had your opponents been more capable, you might have needed that power, and you going Mad would have been worse than if pretty-boy Thales actually got electrocuted. You got lucky.The first Mage couldn’t fight at his full potential in an arena and the second was an idiot. So you listen close, Semyonovna. Should word get to me that you try that again without getting your weapon under control, I won’t just re-assign you partners. I’ll make you start from scratch this time next year in 2068–and that’s if I can’t get you two removed entirely,” he threatened, again without any traces of restraint, speaking to her as if she was an enemy of the state, not a agent to be redeemed.

”I don’t want backtalk,” he added, ”Just tell me you understand. Are we clear?’

Listening to his words and as she watched him block her off, it dawned on her how silly it was to think he was behind this, he could care less. He was just an actor on the stage and likely meant other interests were humoring them. While he wanted no back talk she would not totally hold her tongue there was much and more she could say, but there was one in defense of Raphael and Ark oddly enough.

“He became too unfocused in his efforts, those chains of his when red hot warranted me trying. He was not weak, merely deranged. The other has my respect for what little of a battle we could have, in different situations the winner is not so clear.”

She had much more to snap at him, be it how Raph had insulted the honor of both, how the fight contest she was aware was not a straight up fight, which applied to both, or even defense of her actions in regard to Dani.

In place she simply nodded and then stared eye to eye at Cyrus. “Understood, I think I like having Dani around too much to just let her break.”

”Let me make something clear,” Cyrus opted to add. Normally, he would have left it that, but he saw some merit in the Russian trying to acknowledge her opponents. While Cyrus definitely leaned into being an assassin more than a warrior, he understood the feeling of mutual respect through combat. He was aware Nadia may not interpret what he was to say as anything respectable, but even getting an extra word from him carried some value.

”I am a killer. I have seen and probably caused enough bloodshed to make what you’ve went through in life look like a game of Battleship. Yet here I am on this stage for what I am told is your sake. So I will tell you this for your sake. I don’t give a damn who won or lost, but those Mages could have killed you, or pushed you into Madness. Get off your Russian high horse and take a moment to understand what that really means. Because if you go Mad, you’ll force an Agent just like me to track you down and make you another Death-Damned notch in their belt–if I don't do it myself out of some absurd notion of responsibility for you. All of you,” he explained to her, marking the only time any amount of humanity seemed to come from his cold, robotic dialogue. He put at least one card on the table: the alternative no one wants.

Dani was surprised when the dandy man zipped in front of them, albeit unpleasantly so. She held a weak glare at him through the period of his lecture, one which was free of retorts and outbursts thanks to the collar’s sedation. There was also the added cut of his words hitting points that even she couldn't retort, for the most part anyway. She didn't want to hurt Nadia and definitely didn't want to screw her over. Still, asshole or not, Cyrus probably knew he would get some backtalk whether he wanted or not.

"Our sakes… fuckin… joke," The weapon’s words didn't hold quite the venom intended considering her state, leaving her to sound more like a grumpy teenager. "She won't… so lay the fuck off her… she won't." Lacking both venom and avail, Cyrus ignored the words spit out by Dani. His focus was clearly on Nadia.

While she was content to listen to his words to start with, the later part pushed some buttons on the Russian. ”A fucking high horse? I am strong as I work towards it and I’m not going to doubt myself, Mister Killer, in a battle as that is how people die–”

"–and your pride is how you’ll get others killed. Your refusal to see things in any other way than your own is only proving my point,” he said, raising his voice just slightly, and cutting into her response with those sharp words of his.

”You fuck up, chances are, you both die. You like her too much to break her, but not enough to eat your words,” he added, only emphasizing the gravity of the point he was trying to make.

“Such is what it means to be a Weapon and a Meister. I once did things your way, I have been living among Madness in one form or another and I refuse to let it take me so easily, though I know it is never easy. I know there are those stronger than me, but what you asked, that bastard brought it up, how he learned of it I don’t know.” Nadia says with a slight pause before continuing.

“I led a number of refugee children, we would scavenge for supplies, run afoul of others, while no one died like he thought they all needed hospitalization. I found who did it and I returned the favor and then some. If the weak cannot do anything but be harmed, why should I do this again? That is what you are asking, my pride I give you that, but why should I go through that again, make them do that again?”

”Because that is what means to actually be a Meister and a Weapon,” Cyrus responded. Quick. Short. Simple. Her own words twisted on her, used like the weapon they were meant to be. He had nothing more to say at this point, and arguing with her would only eat up more conspicuous time. Instead, he merely stepped aside to let the two pass by. ”Have Emmett evaluate you for residual Madness, then polish the shoes on that horse you love to ride so much,” he instructed.


Giving a weak scoff, Dani imparted a brief "fuck yourself," in response. There was little else she could retort to and she didn't have enough energy to make a fit about the man more or less ignoring her presence.

Taking some time to stare at Cyrus it may be worth rethinking her view of him to some extent. At least he wasn’t a total suit. ”I’ll find him and give things today some thought. But for now a little rest.” With that she stares back at Raph for a little bit then back forward as she walks past Cyrus with Dani, she would put in a request for Emmett once they got back to the ready room, well if he was there. Fortunately the only obvious wounds she had were a few burns here and there and Dani was just suffering the aftereffects of her madness.. Snorting at that note that she could call it fortunately, they at least didn’t get poisoned, blown up or electrocuted like the other fights, and damage to one’s collar bone was much less than the cut the madness wanted. A clean fight overall in both rounds. She wouldn’t be surprised if Ark was already walking free. Fortunately what they did wasn't a true resonance, so she should still be safe, though more work would be needed.

With that, Cyrus turned his mic back after a short sigh, then proceeded to announce to the crowd. ”After confirming all combatants are safe and stable, I can announce the winner of the second match… to be Nadia and Dani. A much more straightforward set of fights than the last, but entertaining nonetheless! This makes our third and final match the tiebreaker round, folks! A werewolf, a witch, and a Hoshi all walk into an arena, but who walks out victorious? Soon, we’ll get the chance to see!” shouted to the crowd, although with mixed this time around.

Merciless Medic Sir Les Paul EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun Mqueserasera QuirkyAngel Sybil Prizzy Kriyze The Regal Rper Basically everyone in the stands, this tag list is getting crazy.

Note: To be edited for readability later.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Zosar | Death City | South District

March 9th

Admittedly, Adra had a point. He knew what he was doing was illogical, foolishly impulsive, stupid even. When this was over, he was certain Midori would scold him- or anyone leading the mission in general that what he was about to do was reckless, foolish and could seriously backfire.

Sometimes, situations required a risk though. And the ex-merc felt that risk was now.

I don't know honestly. He replied truthfully through the link. This wasn't his normal style. Taking extreme risks weren't uncommon back when he'd been an Enlightener Agent, but they hadn't been frequent things he did. Sylvester, Eustice, Becky, Anastasia- there were others he worked with when they went out on missions who were the more likely to take risks. Jump in at the drop of a dime if they felt it was needed or required a chaotic variable to increase the success rate. He had merely been one of the guys that improvised along with them when they did something unexpected. Even then, with Becky being one of his partners it was easier to manage than the ones who he had been part of a team with.

Then suddenly changed topics. Remember when we first met, how we introduced ourselves? It was a sudden shift in conversation. Almost as sudden as Zosar abandoning Zari, Jarvis, and Adrian to go after the beast on their own while he took a detour through an alleyway, leaped over a fence, and landed in the middle of the sidewalk- startling a young lady and her friends as they were passing by.

His eyes looked past them for what he was hoping he might find- and when he caught sight of it, he smirked just a little.

The ex-merc crossed the street quickly and in a manner of moments was running down the street, entering an open part of the town square that led towards an even larger shopping center, where just ahead, there was a mall. This sent a flood of memories back as he attracted attention. It reminded him of the mission of hunting down two Corrupted in Sicily, exactly. Torn up clothes, dirt stains, bruises and cuts. Him and his teammates walking down cobblestone bridges, laughing like it was normal, attracting the attention of locals who had no idea what kind of ruckus a bunch of teens could have gotten into to look like they had.

Meanwhile Shuumei kept evading his teammates with ease. Desperate to stay out of Adrian's reach, and eager to avoid Zari's attacks. All while launching ranged projectiles at them from afar as they only managed to minorly slow her down by pushing her to detour a slightly longer route to her intended destination.

There was something Adrian said, that I just remembered while I was watching him and Zari give chase on the rooftops he said with a tone of thoughtfulness. Ignoring looks he received at his current, disheveled appearance. Holes in his combat pants, irritated red skin that contrasted with his light brown- the messy state of his two-toned hair, the minor cut on his cheek. The guy looked like he had just walked out of an alleyway fight and with Adra in his hand, as he moved towards the mall, it was not a surprise security was already moving to intercept him at the front entrance as people leaving or exiting the building casted a very suspicious eye.

One person in particular who lowered his glasses with a raised brow, phone ready, prepped to call the police in an instant, clearly seemed to be a native of Death City.

Taser already in grip, the security officer moved in line to block Zosar's approaching path. Clearly ready to hit him with the tazze at the slightest irresponsible move.

Like when he'd been an Enlightener, Zosar already had his I.D. out, granted it was altered. Not the trademark style of his former agency but DWMA's, only with FATE attached to it. With familiarity, he pulled it out of his pocket, and offered it to one of the guards with an outstretched arm. And then returned his attention to what he had been saying earlier while the two guards deliberated, brought out a scanner- and then swapped to intercoms.

His reason for being in the program. Remember? It was related to his tunnel vision. I'm worried that-- he took back his I.D. and with the waved motion, was already moving into the mall, --that if this continues we'll end up with a similar situation here. I noticed a shift in his attitude while he and Zari were chasing Shuumei. It was brief, but I caught the intensity spike in him. I think the easiest way to break someone out of their tunnel vision, is to force them to see things in their surroundings clearer. With how Shuumei's dodging them, I doubt by the time I get back they'll have caught her. Besides, Adrian strikes me as the type of person who needs to be forced to see things clearly when he's too deep. That's part of the reason I'm doing this. If his wavelength can inflict enough harm on anything that it can cause a soul to seize up the way I saw it, then I don't want to be on the receiving end of it.

Because who knew what would happen if the lock he kept on his own soul broke and finally was allowed to go wild. That was the main thing Zosar was now cautious of, and perhaps Adra could sense the hint of nervousness in his haste as he added brief sparks of Amplification to speed up his movements through the mall in his quest for whatever item it was he was looking for. Maybe Adra had experienced rejection before, but the kind of rejection he could inflict would be just as bad as what Adrian's wavelength seemed capable of doing, a 1000x worse if he and Adrian's wavelength's meshed together during the output.

And if Zari ended up being the one that got accidentally attacked instead-- Zosar's pace quickened as he caught sight of his target. The way Zari's soul had flared to life with such rage at being touched by a teammate trying to help him. How he'd lashed out at Adra, and then the intermission for Jarvis to do damage control.

Finding out what he would be like if he was accidentally harmed with Adrian's wavelength, would probably make the brief window he'd seen from Adra's interaction nothing by comparison.

A deft hand swipe and he had the backpack on and on his shoulders in an instant. Searching for the tags, a flare of his wavelength, a finesse of experienced movement, and the tags were popped off with little to no damage to the bag itself.

He was out the mall moments later, stolen backpack in hand.

A group of teens passed him by as he was making his way out.

"Nice cosplay", one of them had said.

Zosar smirked.

If only.

---

The size of a cheetah and moving just as fast as a magically enhanced one, Shuumei utilized the natural agility and grace of a cat to curl and land on all fours from a gigantic leap across a whole street to the other side of, in front of a massive sign that in curly font that read: Heavenly Keep. Splashing through the puddle of water, and rushing around the building to make her way to the area behind it- where just a distance away, a partially completed building still under construction, road completed, littered with puddles of dirty rain water, sat behind the hotel. No doubt some extended expansion from the road that led to it judging from how it extended towards Heavenly Keep.

By the time Zari and Adrian had caught up the feline was gone, leaping over the metal wire and making her way up a ledge to slip in through a windowless pane on the floor above. The building had signs, arrows, all of them saying: DANGER in bold black on a background of yellow with red borders. Signs to stay out. DO NOT ENTER, INFESTATION PROBLEM on another sign.

Trespassing here was a clear problem- but this was DWMA official business. So the signs could suck lemons.

The puddles that Shuumei had touched in front of the building though as they approached, glowed ominously. There were little puddles of collected rain water on the ledge that also glowed ominous as well.

The second the two crossed the metal wire fence- the second they made an attempt. She attacked.

Projectiles went flying like rockets. Some for Zari, some for Adrian- but this time almost calculated. Trying to push them in directions towards the puddles which silently bubbled, as if chemically ready to pop at any time and explode, releasing acidic justice on any close enough to pass and feel the stinging burn and irritation of the mother's fury.

Shuumei sat there on her little windowless seat, staring down at them silently, hackles up.

Ready to defend her territory with a new vicious light in her feline eyes.

All the while completely unaware that deeper in the building, within the hiding spot where there'd been a nearby supply of puddled water, Zosar had found her nest of kittens- and was currently reaching out to one, Adra by his side- as he scooped up one of the kittens in his arms and knelt down to observe the others, then looked at his backpack. A glint of mischief in his eyes as he glanced her way.

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