Death & Dusklight RP

Adirondack Mountains, Upstate New York...

Not Long Ago...

A dying sun fell slowly behind knife-edged like granite massifs. Once blanketed in a vast emerald forest but as winter tightened its grip on the landscape, all plant life grew dark and gnarled. Save for the specklings of evergreen groves which intermingled with the snow and frost that crept down the massif like a specter. The snow was deeper still in the shallow valley between two of such rises. A small river coursed through this particular valley yet was iced over, barren and everything seemed as if it was but an alabaster sepulcher. Darkness likewise began to slither down. But the day star still reigned as a bone-white moon began to rise in the east; the sun casting an orange-red glow about this winter realm. In time this too would fade away, the daylight.

Fading away into a cold dead night.

The sound of blackbirds communing filled the air, a chattering that muffled the sound of commotion in the snow. Hastened and in action. Even the softest voice seemed to echo in the valley. The terrain made stealth all but impossible save the most bestial of creatures who roam the wilderness. Such a beast though did lurk within the massif. The nigh slumbering barren trees provided ample cover as it coursed between the rows. Not a twig snapped nor foot slipped, digging vibranium coated soles silently into the permafrost with cat-like grace. Moving within the shadows cast like a dreamscape. Crimson optics flickered and scanned as he braced himself in half-cover against a tree. Waiting and watching while his contracts lay several dozen meters to his southwest; his prey.

His prey was the most dangerous game of all: Man. Yet, in some ways, these were more than mortal. History and heroics and infamy served as adequate labels to some degree or other. Deifying them. Thus much like Icarus, their great deeds were their downfall, as it attracted the attention of the Grim Ghost known as Tenjin.

He spotted three, all lured here under false pretenses and what would seem like a chance meeting or ambush would soon become a battlefield. No blows were thrown quite yet, the combatants taking positions and preparing for a bloody fight.

Beneath this strange dusklight, in a matter of a blink, Tenjin vanished. Whisps of ghastly aether danced in his place only to dissipate in the low wind.

That same wind rocked the limbs of a large skeletal tree and perched on such a bough, the rising moon against his silhouette giving some semblance of a great eagle caught in shadows. He rose effortlessly from his simian like stance. Aether materialized danced on his armor into nothingness still. Scarlet eyes staring down from his heightened position, within view but half-hidden and motionless as a monolith ever closer to his foes. The Fatal Phantom clutched three small spheres, rotating them in his palm before hurling them downward with dazzling accuracy.

The formation of the spheres was a perfect triangle spread approximately ten feet apart at each point. An automatic time delayed explosion occurred two feet before they struck the ground, releasing noxious and vile toxic fumes. The three green clouds comingled and warped, forming a typhoonic mass thirty feet wide and carried upwind in an attempt to suffocate his contracts with a verdant mist of airborne neurotoxins, myotoxin,s and hemotoxins.

Attempting a surprise attack, he capitalized. Leaping down with an aerial fault downwind of the mist and hopefully on the outskirts of his enemies. Once his feet touched the snow, he twisted magnificently all the while unsheathing his sword; the blade hissing as it erupted into a silver streak amongst the dusk. Analyzing movements and proximities, his free hand seemed to crack with a fast whip-like movement, expelling something from his modular vambrace.

Speaking quickly in tandem with the attack "Fly true, little bird..." as a shuriken, coated in a photon absorbing film, spun through the air like an ebon streak aimed for the throat of @red_jay.

Nonchalantly Quintus firmly packed the snow beneath his right boot with a couple stomps. Good footing was important after all. To the point of which he had seemingly abandoned any visual interest in the inevitable stand-off between the other two guarded individuals in the immediate area.

His face plate had remained open upon arrival revealing his weathered facial appearance and fashionable black eye-patch. Neither of the two looked particularly familiar but the young man, he gave off a distinctive and inescapable postural resemblance to that of an old foe.

The former Noir Rose of Reality-M continued to play at paying more attention to his pursuit of perfected traction, all while secretly registering the lethal threat level resonating off the noticeably tall female. -Her first-

But before any information could be exchanged or the meaning behind their impromptu meeting revealed...

a perfect triangle spread approximately ten feet apart at each point. An automatic time delayed explosion occurred two feet before they struck the ground, releasing noxious and vile toxic fumes. The three green clouds comingled and warped, forming a typhoonic mass thirty feet wide and carried upwind in an attempt to suffocate his contracts with a verdant mist of airborne neurotoxins, myotoxin,s and hemotoxins

Instinctively the Revolutionary of Reality-M instantly dove off to the side with spring-loaded explosiveness as the trinity of spheres exploded releasing their airborne payload. Simultaneously the automated tech in his suit brought the facial plate closed hermetically sealing it shut as the 66th Arashikage gymnastically rolled onto a knee.

Dancing his finger's along the segmented greave on his left forearm activating its state of the art Neo-connect®, summoning his aerial chariot, the Aethruim Talon. Settling into a control hover just above the winter stripped tops of the trees, Quintus sought to create a transition zone between the two air masses utilizing the Talon's propulsion jets. With the heavier cooler air pushed under the lighter elevated air and dispersing the unknown Shadow Shinobi's poisonous miasma.

However the exhibition in reactionary athleticism had left him exposed as the entirety of his attention had been allocated to the aerial interception of the toxic typhoon.

@tenjin@arquitenens@quintus_knightfall

𝕬𝖉𝖎𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕸𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘

Like a wolf he watched closely, ready to pounce in a moment's notice.

Lathered in a Black and Silver culmination of eighteen-weeks worth of perfection the young wolf studied both his foes movements, though little was gained. Both seemed older than himself, but better was a different question that has yet to be answered.

Strapped onto the LeBeau's back loosely hung a Black Pearlescent coated AR-15 armed with standard .50 Beowulf rounds, and dangling from his waist; a Silver Škorpion vz. 61. Wrapping around his waste laid a scarred and scratched matte black belt, factored with dual dropdown holsters - one of which already occupied - and militaristic pouches housing many of armaments ranging from Smoke Pellets, Explosives, Flashes, and the like.

"Something is wrong, I feel it." Internally, he worried. Though he did not dare to rest the gaze between him and his foes. Not even for a second. His senses didn't alert him until it was too late.

"The three green clouds comingled and warped, forming a typhoonic mass thirty feet wide and carried upwind in an attempt to suffocate his contracts with a verdant mist of airborne neurotoxins, myotoxin,s and hemotoxins."

But fortunately, much concern didn't have to go into the incoming attack as the Knightfall improvised.

Will knew he couldn't have been affected by the gas as his Ultra-Sapien genes granted him immune. But that wasn't what he worried about. His lack of vision was that annoyed him. "Sh!t, time to go-" Before he could end, a whizz in the cleared sky was to be heard. A shuriken, from the same person that rained the gas perhaps.

Immediately ducking, the LeBeau dove leftwards evading the projectile rolling into a crouch. As his calculative mind raced, he began returning the fire from whence it came.

Though due to this a lack of sight on either Quintus or Anastasia was lost, though their presence was far forgotten.

@quintus_knightfall: @tenjin: @red_jay:

Stretching her arms high above her head, Nastya let out an airy sigh, grinning open-mouthed as her warm breath dissipated into the frigid air. It didn't snow in Los Angeles, not where she lived. For the few years she'd been alive, despite her experiences and despite the lofty burden foisted upon her shoulders, simple things still filled her with a childlike pleasure.

Of course, the weather was about the only thing simple here. This she realized the instant she set eyes on what appeared to be Quintus Knightfall, ignorant the fact there were now two cross-universal analogues of the same man. She'd seen him in person only once before—when she attended his funeral; although Doña's notes indicated more than one occasion in which he'd apparently cheated death. The numbers had yet to coalesce into anything she could make sense of. Nastya zeroed in on his ostensibly careless manner with tandem curiosity and excitement. If this was really him--though he was not one of her direct biological progenitors--then they were perpetually linked by the memetic legacy of the Noir Rose, and the sword - the Legacy Blade - she carried.

Though she tried not to appear too puzzled it was difficult to be mindful of the third - an unknown buck who, she assumed, had also been lured under some pretense by the historically mercurial Knightfall. Qué sorpresa, he's tiny. A trained killer he may have been, but in him she read...no, not hesitation. Just...a lack of intent.

Like a robot lost in calculation, her head twisted this way and that. No matter how the Numeromancer parsed the matrix of interactions there were missing elements. Something didn't add up.

As if the universe itself were compelled to answer Avalon's new Goddess of Progress, the solution presented itself and the quiet moment passed. A shift in air currents. Nastya's head whipped toward the disturbance. Almost before she could appraise the hidden variable it exploded, breathing its noxious fumes into the air. Where others automatically dove for cover, the spawn of Amaranth's instincts pulled her momentarily from the realm of tangibility while mentally retracing the trajectory of the explosive devices. Again, however, her attention was split as the Talon whipped the snow-covered mountain into a frenzy. Chaos vectors butchered the once-still air, clearing toxins but making the environment impossible to read.

Feck it. Determining the unseen assailant to be top priority, the man-made Amazon tore into a sprint for a probable general location based on the trajectories of his prior attacks. Then, even if he'd moved she could track him. Ideally he'd do something to give away his exact position before then. Then he was as good as shredded. He was smart enough to be mindful of potential scenting but between the three of them, those caught in his crosshairs should be able to locate him.

New York City...

The Momo Club...

Three Days Prior...

Removed from the general clientele, inside a room reserved for the most prominent members of the vainglorious Momo Club, sat a man in the farthest corner booth. A black bespoke Neapolitan suit adorned his mighty physique, meticulously accented with golden cufflinks and tie bar, contrasting the ivory silk dress shirt and solid black tie. The chandelier lights did not reach this area, casting it and the man in shadows save for the dull vermillion wallpaper of the room. A bottle of vintage Chateauneuf-du-Pape and a spread of exotic fruits, cheeses, and artisanal meats graced the table yet it was all untouched. The man sat quietly, only the faint glow of a cigarette ashed into a marble bowl was his movements. His fingers rapping on the oak table, not maintaining the tempo of the string music broadcasting but out of impatience.

Over towards the bar, another older gentleman got a strong drink and meandered his way back over to the table. His hand clutching a manila folder before setting it before the rather dapper individual. Eye contact with the aforementioned individual, even though a pair of dark sunglasses were worn by both.

“I appreciate you coming from Tokyo so suddenly, I hope your flight was reasonable.”

“I did not fly.”

“Oh, uh, well, in any case, it's appreciated...” The man fumbled with words for a moment before changing the subject and gestured down towards the table. “I can get you something else? Lobster? Maybe a porterho...”

“Let us talk about the targets you are hiring me to murder instead.” He interrupted, said with a snide grin on his pallid face and leaned forward with large forearms braced upon the table.

The other man, rightfully disturbed looked around and his hands in disarray trying to gesture the assassin to speak quietly without saying it. However, the killer continued.

“You have summoned me for a purpose Deputy Director, you have certain interests who want these individuals terminated. I do not particularly care why, although I assume it’s a matter of corporate or government importance. Yet, you casually waste my time with idle conversation.”

The Deputy Director nodded. “You’re right...down to business but you're incorrect in one assumption.”

To be continued...

_________________________________

Adiornack Mountains...

Not Long Ago...

For a moment, Tenjin found himself slightly impressed with the master of the aircraft’s rather inventive use of the propulsion system, momentarily beholding the deadly green haze become a tumultuous storm of air current and eventually would dissipate entirely. The turbulence creating an uproar of admixture of gas and snow and wind, fogging the area. Quintus’ combat roll seen himself however open for an attack, perhaps deceptively, by the Death Device. However, Katsuro had been put on the defensive by the rather agile youth who began to rain large-caliber rounds through the thinned but remaining obscuration. The sound of his shuriken burying itself into the trunk of a nearby tree masked by the thunderous rifle; echoing in the winter dominated landscape. Let alone the rushing strides of vicious Natsya coming from his left.

Yet, his senses of perception were far beyond that of the average humanoid, cybernetically enhanced and incredibly versatile. Heat signatures of the combatants, especially contrasted with the cold weather and a rather flat terrain made the haze and turmoil noneffective. Knowing his surroundings were paramount in his chosen profession; his field of vision bordering on omnidirectional save a sliver to his back. He was built for war.

With his sword sweeping downwards, snow was hurled from its resting place in a wide arc, his freehand before him as he bent his knees slightly into a combat stance. Ebon tendrils of shadows dance closely to his herculean form as the incoming bullets traversed towards him just as he was soon encased in darkness. Leaping upwards approximately three meters, he emerged through a Shadow Clone, tearing through it like a moth in metamorphosis. Airborne now, the mirror image was shredded with large caliber rounds, like a ghastly display of fiendish wreathing as it partialized with its destruction.

Tenjin’s shinobi shroud fluttered wildly as the kinetic pistons in his legs ignited, allowing him to effectively double jump but to a steep angle combined with a sideways aerial removing him to another horizontal location. Further, what seemed to be a mechanized backpack was ejected behind him.

This device twisted immediately, separating, allowing what seemed aesthetic ridges and lines and itself blossomed into the likeness of a metallic falcon. This drone, dubbed simply Hayabusa, took flight with a shriek high above the battlefield and telepathically linked its artificial senses with the Fatal Phantom; circling high above, granting Katsuro an aerial perspective.

The Martial Metatron landed on his feet within a mere few seconds of Natsya incoming path; she was a hunter and he appreciated her tenacity for dealing wanton death headlong. He had to be evasive as even now Red Jay could easily begin to take the offensive with range and an infamous Quintus was but now three yards away. Commanding the battlefield was a priority. A rising diagonal slash rose upwards whilst he performed a semi-circular swivel step, now facing Codename: Lazarus but changing his angle of attack. This was but a thwarting maneuver, keeping the distance as but the final three inches of the blade had any contact potential. Furthermore, he defensively positioned himself to impose his closest foe in the path of Red Jay’s bullet storm. He would have to leave the lad to take initiative for the time being, whether he would continue at the current relative safety of range or leap into the foray, would be up to him. However, Katsuro sounded, an accent thick yet eclectic and boomed with bass "Come and die, William! Or does your blood not hold that of legends?" Though lacking in specifics, it was hinted the Pinnacle Predator somehow knew something more but that would be revealed in time.

Quintus however, was not to be left alone especially nearby. A man as calculating as the Noir Rose wouldn’t be given the opportunity to devise tactical superiority.

Another set of time-delayed bombs were summoned to his hand from his vambrace, coordinated with the sweeping strike at Natsya, he flung the pair in a wide ‘V’ shaped trajectory with his hand at the point of origin, utilizing micromovements to expend them in different paths with his fingers. Purely concussive in nature, the bombs would ignite in tandem towards Quintus’ rear flanks to beckon him to close-ranged combat or at the very least on the offensive.

The Virtuoso of Violence was merely setting the stage, as the sun began to die behind the massif.

....And the blood would flow in due time.

@red_jay: @cutthroatbitch: @tenjin:

With serene tactical framing and preternatural intuition the Pathogenic Phantom had struck first, and in doing so, brilliantly set the opening conditions for his impromptu assault. Forcing his quarry into reactionary positions of continuous defense while they attempted to collect their wits and properly gauge who, or what, they were up against - if not each other -

Any analytical assumptions would have to be selectively vetted in the moment. Mentally digested in the pressure filled heat of the conflict and while on the fly. As the last fang of the LeBeau lineage let his rifle bark. As the cloned cub of chaos athletically charged forward. Even as the disturbed screech of the stranger's mechanized eagle rained down from above with glass shattering intensity, Quintus' theories and critical examinations would have to be sub-consciously parsed.

It was all happening within in instantaneous bubble, split second attacks, evasions, and counters. The rhythm of the battle had not been hard to follow but the displaced Knightfall had no interest in mirroring such a predictable routine. Yet the Sensi of Digital Shadows once again proved to be literal leaps and bounds ahead of the competition. Surgically engaging all three within seconds once again moving the pieces around the battlefield into more advantageous positions. And while the methods were impressively thorough if not stylish, they were also telling.

The theater of it all. From the skilled covert themed tactics, to the dangerous but non-fatal attacks, the opening thus far had felt more like a dramatization of a battle rather then an actual life or death situation. 'He's working his way up to a grand finale' the Iron Mamba thought to himself.

His muscle's flexed but before he could utilize his photographic reflexes in a reincarnated sprint of the Babylonian Cub, "What the..." he blurted while simultaneously spinning a hundred and eighty degrees around in an attempt to snatch his hip-holstered Heckler & Kock Mk23 and blind fire on whatever had managed to sneak in from the rear.

He was fast. Not just for his age or diminished physical ranking, but fast. Real fast. Just not fast enough. Caught in the center of the Death Device's aerial bombs Quintus was unceremoniously catapulted several feet through the air. Fresh fog elegantly rolled off his body as if it had just been exhaled from the glamorous lips of a movie star. If only.

The veteran could do little, at first, outside of regaining some semblance of composure in a crouched and paused station. No doubt suffering the effects of yet another concussion he instantly felt the urge to vomit but fought it back as the World moved on behind him. But never the less, through the ringing in his ears he heard something else. Something familiar. Something, hydraulic...

Quintus suddenly grunted. Propelling himself forward with a somersault up to his feet and straight into a reconstructed sprint created from a patchwork quilt of muscle-memorized runners. Swimming a graphite colored Grapnel from his first-line harness he maintained speed before firing it up into the under-belly of the Talon. Immediately it began to fly, briefly allowing Quintus to run a bit further before being pulled off the ground. Retracting the cable he was eventually brought up and in through a hatch in the bay-door.

Though his doppelganger would have indulged in the more up close and hand to hand oriented confrontations, the Revolutionary of Reality-M was cut from a different cloth. He had fought against superhuman gods for the fate of his reality, and lost. A defeat that had no doubt left the former hero a shattered psychological wreck. Shaped and molded by an event so universally tragic that such indulgences were no longer part of his repertoire. He was now a man of vehicular compilation. A fact the secret Katsuro had already been made aware of in their previous battle, when Quintus sacrificed his UAV - and his sister's hospital - in an attempt to end the Simulation Shinobi's life.

And now behind the controls of his Aethrium Talon, the 66th Arashikage had a wealth of supplementary resources. But he didnt need them. Instead he flew past once, dispensing his fuel reserves over the immediate landscape. Careening into yet another series of horizontal spirals before making another pass. Only this time impossibly close to the ground in a pure glide. Waiting....waiting...and then reengaging the afterburners igniting the fuel in a chaotic ring of fire that would have burned the man in black himself. Quintus merely hoped it would burn the triangle of strangers on the ground.

@quintus_knightfall@cutthroatbitch@tenjin

Now left empty and vulnerable, William watched as his onslaught of rounds gleamed through the clear sky, penetrating everything in its way, including what seemed to be the Shadow Assaislints doppelganger-type being. Taking the opportunity to move William retracting his own grapnel gun and began an attempt for higher-ground as he aimed for one of the many trees that surrounded the battleground. Only until he arrived atop the tree did he reloaded his rifle anew. Shifting towards a kneeled position, William watched over the Clash of Mutants right through the very sit of his rifle.

"Come and die, William! Or does your blood not hold that of legends?"

Left bemused by the Unknown's taunt the LeBeau subconsciously lowered his rifle in suspicion, the hell? The man's voice didn't sound familiar and nor did his movement. For the moment he was in the trance, he was left open, though it soon faded. Though before Will could proceed any form of movement or action, the eering momentum of the Masked Marauder's Aetherium Talon caught Will's attention as it swept through the snow-filled land scorching its surface with the Talon's very own afterburners.

Luckily, William pursued a higher vantage point before Quintus' second vehicular assault could arrange.

Seizing the moment, William firmly set his sights on Katsuro. There he is. Positioning his sights on the Man's head readying himself to pull the trigger, he soon shifted his sights from Katsuro's head to his left leg, he needed answers first. Without hesitation, the Rogue Republican pulled the trigger in hopes of momentarily paralyzing his movement.

With a snide grin and a hawkish gaze, William kept stationary on the high branch now watching over Nastya. Her every move. But in doing so, he was left vulnerable from any attack conceivable from any which way. But if only if the person who'd dare could be silent enough to take advantage of William's immovable position.

@tenjin: @quintus_knightfall: @red_jay:

The audacity! A blend of exhilaration and irritation swirled as the brash puppeteer inserted himself dead-center and proceeded to effectively juggle all three other combatants at once, showcasing a mental acuity the fledgling goddess felt compelled to match and surpass. She let out a low growl as her lip curled up into a sneer, equal parts amusement and umbrage. Though she had no intention of playing anyone's fool, spurred by looming shadows and the temerity of youth, the scion of legends dove headfirst into a full engagement.

A whistle, as cold steel scythed through the air, hacking flesh and bone with a grisly squelch. A hair's breadth too slow, she'd paid the price for her recklessness against a more experienced opponent.

Despite the sharp pain and scarlet mask now painted cross her face Nastya hadn't slowed in the slightest. With the matrix established, her programming wouldn't allow her to fall for the trap set by the Neo-Sin Shinigami's elusive footwork. Even prior to unlocking her secondary mutation, kinesics was her first language. She read bodies better than she read books and principles of "ring generalship" were more than second nature. She moved in rhythm and space to deprive Tenjin of the angles that would superimpose her on his would-be assailant's hail of gunfire. Thus far, however, this William had a clean slate. (She catalogued the name for later cross-referencing and research; maybe he was worth swapping stories and experiences but the last mysterious son of legends turned into a huge problem.)

"I—appreciate you're not fighting me like a pansy"—she chirped as the wound in her face closed and sealed itself back together—"but you calling other names is gonna make me feel bad."

Although the Talon's overhead flight had not been missed, once the Shinobi of Sin had launched his attack, Nastya—perhaps naively—made a point to classify him as the priority threat, assuming his tri-pronged assault made the remaining trio a de facto alliance. A faulty notion of which she was promptly disabused by a familiar smell and searing pain over her head and shoulders. Hair fell out in patches, regrew, and fell out again. Skin blistered and boiled just as rapidly as its attempts to self-repair. Even as she opened her mouth to scream, breath came hard, carbon monoxide replacing oxygen in her immediate surroundings. Even immortal, her body was not without its limits.

Yet still, even as higher functions faltered, the Mutant War Machine continued to perform her function. Destroy. As the Talon circled Nastya reached for a micro-sized compartment in her belt, slamming a small node into the ground. Immediately a hard light bubble shield sprung up around the grounded pair, theoretically separating them entirely from the outside world. Locked in extremely intimate space, but protected from all external assault.

But through her intangibility the Babylonian Tiger's Cub could pierce any veil at will. And so she did, diving backwards through her own shield—leaving behind a napalm grenade of her own which would promptly explode, intending to singe, sear, and scorch the trapped Tenjin, leaving him a shriveled mess when the bubble shield finally dissipated.

Regardless of the immediate outcome, however, Quintus Knightfall needed to suffer for the pain he'd caused.

Tenjin had foreseen a combined front by his contracts but the Master of the Black Petals had not prepared from what was to come.

Natsya’s aggressiveness in close quarters and artfully positioning, both of them fighting for tactical and linear supremacy with evasive footwork in a grand dance of death. Well aware of Katsuro’s utilization as a human shield from Red Jay’s long-ranged assault and perch upon a tree limb; waiting for an opportunity to take his life from afar. But bullets were little match for Tenjin’s incredible reflexes, countless bullets have been fired at him in his lifetime and little found their mark.

But one did so tonight.

Preoccupied with two fronts, the Sinister Shinobi’s enhanced spectrum of senses seen rather Quintus, instead of coming forth in a defensive attack had begun to ascend via a grapnel line upwards to the aerial vehicle. Katsuro speedily disengaged with a shuffle step backward and prepped an explosive shuriken into his palm. Like his previous bombardment that launched seconds prior, his right arm shot behind him, aiming it to hurl the projectile into the back of Quintus. Meanwhile, the Immortal Warden kinesics proficiency have proved more problematic than anticipated finally cutting off his route long enough in tandem with the slow squeeze of Red Jay’s rifle.

This trifecta would cause a chain of events that had changed the course of his intended ruthless butchery. He had but processed the source of the sonic clap, finding his left leg in the open before the punch of a hot expansive bullet tore perfectly between the braids of his carbon nanotube bodysuit and avoiding masses of Vibranium plating that covered major muscle groups, and whether freakishly accurate or bountifully lucky; pierced the flesh into a large exit wound that didn’t manage to penetrate through the bodysuit on the other side of its ballistic path. The force of the blow throwing his accuracy off, heaving the shuriken headlong into nothingness, mere inches from his intended target. Blood shot out in a large stream, a fraction of an inch from a major artery, sparing him to deal with a potentially fatal wound.

A brief curse escaped his lips beyond his shroud and he immediately reacted with a controlled fall backward into a gymnastic tumble only to place himself into a crouching position. With supreme accuracy he retaliated, an instinct rage overtook him briefly-a flaw in his design- instead of pursuing Quintus further. Unleashing another explosive shuriken from his hand, spinning blindingly to a distance unreachable by even peak human potential. Striking true against the trunk of the tree in which Red Jay was stationed causing the trunk to be obliterated and now crashing down. However, he would not have time to follow up with another long-range attack of his own.

Flames now fell from the sky.

Like a great wyrm’s breath, the battlefield was consumed in an improvised napalm attack by the crafty Knightfall with Natsya and Katsuro suddenly immolated. His enemy’s regenerative properties would save her, though not from pain and allow her to devise a cruel but masterful entrapment of her own. Though Tenjin had none such mutations, his armor’s Vibranium plates provided grand defensives, deflecting Quintus’ reign of fire from major and crucial areas of his body. But the jet fuel burned with white-hot intensity, slowly smoldering his bodysuit before a dome of energy likewise bloomed around him paired with a sphere striking the ground. Ghoulishly slow he rose to his feet, flames licking off his armor and pain coursing around his body, yet he made no sound...no screams. His left hand nigh strangling the hilt of his sword, reflecting the light emitting from his infernal surroundings beyond and now inside the barrier. Shadows and darkness did not linger here, he could not escape through conventional means of teleportation. Trapped and torture would likely be his short future.

The Queen of Avalon sentenced him to a royal execution in a blazing tomb.

Tenjin’s eyes narrowed as the bomb was set off and his foe escaped with spectral grace and was overtaken in a detonation.

This would have certainly been the end of most of his kin and assassins alike but he was the Katsuro the Mighty...death dare not take him yet. Tenjin’s nimbleness had taken him and Natsya several meters backward prior to the fire, as he planned on utilizing the terrain to his advantage confront his foes upon the snow-covered ice of the frozen river which meandered through the valley and his inhuman balance and swiftness to control the fight further. Now, it had served another purpose.

A means of escape from certain death.

Activating the kinetic pistons in his feet pairing with a furious stomping motion with a controlled downward force, the snow-covered ground cracked and splintered as he was swallowed in cinder and scorching flames. Plummeting downwards, the ice shards rising in his place, forming a beautiful lotus structure soon to be melted. The near-freezing water now surrounded him, cold and deadly in itself but quenching the adhering flames and replaced by steam and bubbles of air. He began to sink deeper, cooling his frame and plate armor. A lesser man would have gone into shock, but years of training in the harshest conditions on the planet, and besting them, gave him the resolve to stay awake. The red light showed through the melting ice above as darkness overtook him, strange serpentine movements of shadow clutching him from the riverbed and thus he vanished from the abyss below.

Vengeance would follow.

__________________

Along the tree line, several hundred meters away, the mechanical falcon swooped downwards as a large portal erupted, darker than black and a figure rose from its liquid-like surface. Skeletal hands clutching at him in, beckoning him back, Tenjin walked into the cold wind and the portal dissipated behind him. His arm rose in a slight bent horizontal to his shoulder as Hayabusa perched upon his vambrace, flapping its wings while stationary. The smell of what could only be described of burnt rubber, heated metal, and seared flesh was produced from his body. Grievous burns graced his skin about his body with the only benefit of cauterizing his bullet wound. His armor, however, remained in place, only the bodysuit severely damaged, showcasing reddened and blistering flesh.

Yet, the pain was not on his mind, something other and perhaps strangest of all.

“What a beautiful crescendo.” He thought theatrically. Watching as the great fire that once engulfed him raged against the pallid splendor of the landscape in elemental polarity. Hues of white, black and blues overtook by crimson and yellow. Stars began to flicker high above, the last breaths of the day now extinguished and the moon now reigned. Night had come.

And darkness was his dominion.

His partial helmet disengaged into several hexagonal pieces and retreated downwards towards his cuirass, revealing a gaunt pallid face; handsome yet sinister. Tousled ebon locks flowed downward as he tossed a mysterious pill into his mouth, its effects began to overtake him almost instantly.

“...It seems I have underestimated the lot. Not again.”

Suddenly another Shadow Portal was birthed, another mechanical beast began to spill forth into the winter realm. Taking the visage of a mythical three-tailed fox yet large as a dire wolf, its vibranium fangs bared. “The hunt begins in earnest Kitsune...let us not keep them waiting.”

Whether or not they were aware of his escape meant nothing, as he and his robotic companions faded into the looming shadows of the tree line.

From the cockpit the Revolutionary of Reality-M confidently looked back over his shoulder, as the Talon careened upwards pulling a fading trail of smoke behind it. Smoothly executing several victory rolls as it pierced the veil of gathering clouds up above, visually disappearing leaving nothing behind but the faint sound of rolling thunder off in the distance.

His adversary had barely opened up - based off their previous confrontation - his neo-martial playbook and the matrix level strategies that came with it. And still had nearly established a flawless three-tier'd battle front. Had it not been for the combat-culture inherently ingrained in the genetic brilliance of Tiger's Cub, and her brolic blitz, the Algorithm of Assassination may have very well caged the ill-prepared trinity in a Shakespearean death duel.

Quintus was unable to verify a kill shot or watch the brief yet lethal exchange between the clone and the shadow. The third, the one who's muscle movements screamed LeBeau, had vanished. Though exceptional, the Talon's flight deck instruments were modified but basic. Unable to track individual heat signatures or track the location of those on the ground. His helmet was better equipped for such a task. Meaning if the Martial Arts Mamba was to re-engage he'd have to do so on foot, abandoning his new found aerial supremacy and handle the situation up close and personal.

From an impressive distance the Knightfall doppelganger bailed from the now hovering craft and acrobatically landed on a nearby ridge. A sudden shuffle nearby causing him to pull his pistol. Only to re-holster the weapon as an injured deer, slightly scorched and charred, cleared the brush and limped off. No doubt one of many injured or killed woodland creatures as a result of his ruthless attack. 'Figures.' he thought with detached empathy.

Switching to his mask to AR (augmented reality) superimposing a perceptual digital overlay on the real world, Quintus was quickly able to observe multiple sensory modalities, including visual, auditory, haptic, somatosensory and olfactory. Fully immersed yet completely present in the real world. The Sensi of Shadows had vanished but a few feet away from the blood Heir of Amaranth's light generated tarpaulin, the recovering Mutant War Machine looked to be regaining her composure. And her flesh.

"You should have let the fire take you down." he arrogantly spat. Slowly swimming his arm back behind his waste and unsheathing the broken blade of the Arashikage. In this World's canonical cause, Quintus- Raysh Al'Shaytan- had lost the iconic weapon in a battle with his arch-nemesis, Charlemagne. But in Reality-M, in the face of total annihilation, the Last Knightfall Standing held onto the blade. Held onto his legacy.

But what was he doing? Clearly he had to of known he was no match for her in a hand to hand confrontation. Even in his prime her attributes and martial mastery far exceeded his own. Maybe his pride had overrun strategic thought, or perhaps he longed for a warriors death against a noteworthy opponent. Regardless, they were both about to find out...

He exploded forward tearing up the ground at the point of ignition, leaving behind a divot the size of his foot. Like the true thieve of motion he was, his entire frame angled, flexed, and contorted in a perfect replication of the Tiger's Cub. But with each stride his posture change, bleeding the sprinting form of other great combatants into his own.

Waiting until the last minute to twirl the blade's handle in the palm of his hand, reversing the sword as to face it away from his foe. Copying his brother, Cassius with a 360 jumping spin looking to drive the inverted sword into the engineered weapon's upper-thigh before landing just off to the side.

Without pause or hesitation, and whether or not his strike found its mark, Quintus allowed gravity and his momentum to push him downwards before once again exploding forward. Looking for a takedown, he attempted to gather Cutthroat's leg from underneath the back of her knee, while his other arm sought to snake around her head, using the strength of his lower-body and excellent technique to hopefully cradle what he had snared and snap-spring backwards with a powerful suplex. Both were basic attacks and after what the Bastard of Babylon had already endured, a rather lackluster assault. But was the Noir Rose setting up for something bigger? Only time would tell.

@tenjin@cutthroatbitch@quintus_knightfall

William seemed to hit his target. Though so did Katsuro. Followed by a violent spin, another one of his destructive projectiles struck the origin of the large Black Spruce leaving Will no choice but to flee from his position. Leaping from one tree to another he paid no gaze to those on the battlefield as he was more occupied with the situation at hand. Emerging from his belt a carbon-steel knife ripped from its sheath and into the trunk of a nearby tree insuring a steady landing from whence he leaped from. Following this led his sudden drop into the equaled playing field of his enemies.

Keeping the same distance he held before, the Son of Shadows crept between tree, to bush, to boulder. Standing alongside the large Spruces, he maintained a steadied eye towards Katsuro, allowing Quintus and Nastya their conflict. He knew he couldn't beat them. Any of them. But he didn't have to, Williams main weapons weren't the lumps of steel he kept strapped to him. They were his weapons and their relentless mindsets of eliminating each-other were his key to success. It was just until one of them notices Will would finally emerge.

But he had to move, stay in one place he gets caught quicker. Move too frequently he eventually gets intercepted. Creeping into a crouch behind one of the many trunks, William peeked over into the scorched warzone once more only for his gaze to be caught by a rather strange sight. "The hell?" The Shadow Cyborg who once was happened to be replaced by something rumored within the depths of Japanese myth.

Standing between the mysterious Katsuro and a quite steep mastiff Will was beckoned no choice but to enter conflict with the creature, which completely contradicted with the mindset he came into battle with. Though once forced to he must improvise.

In hopes of the beast becoming aware of either Quintus or Nastya's subtle presence Jay hastily scurried through multiple linear-lined trees arming each trunk with something of the visual appearance of proximity-triggered explosives. Why? Because they actually were. Though the traps were mainly set for the new occurrence of the Field and if it decided to pounce on the exposed Jay. In his mind, he didn't expect his trap to work. And in reality, it might not. It was just decided upon Will's expectations of Katsuro's expertise, whether they be true or not.

Sudden beeps from every-which-way exposed themselves to the Artic-Like landscape. A stern stare turning into a sneer and a lazy finger now tightened upon the grip of his worn AR, he once again stationed himself into a risky position by unleashing another round of thunderous rounds toward the general direction of Katsuro. Though if he learned anything from the first time he had attempted such an attack William knew he had to move. After all. The action was only done to attract, not damage, anything was possible.

In an attempt to avoid the stationary position of the alluded proximities, with great haste Will attempted to grapple himself atop the mastiff that sat opposing from the initial position of Katsuro. Only then would Will hoped the trap he set for Tenjin himself would work. If it didn't he had no choice but to commence a mid/close-range conflict.

@quintus_knightfall:

Flames continued to eat at her and spread even as she rolled through the snow. Nastya rose to her feet, thoughts of Tenjin already purged from her mind. With her brain boiling in its own fluids and fat, anything remotely resembling conscious thought would've been tantamount to a miracle. Her only hope, embers of the last idea before her consciousness was extinguished. A record of some of history's most capable predators was stored in her genetic memory. As it all faded to black, phenotypic activation of the implanted SRC gene once again pulled the wounded cub from physical space. Pulled napalm and flames away from all fuel sources, and then further away from her body's constituent molecules.

"Hnngh...Hrrrrtsss..."Her voice was a guttural growl, a rising cry made up of a child's pain and a beast's fury which fell on deaf ears, as it always had.

The damage had been done. Though her body was working overtime to repair itself, the intricate connections that comprised her brain's complex system of memories, thought, and processing power were far from peak operating potential. But just as the blaze gnawing at her head and shoulders died down, a fire ignited in the eyes of the young immortal. Numbers swirled as ever in her mind, but through a veil of static. She made no attempt to understand the complex cipher. She could do without it.

In that moment Nastya also felt a drastic shift in the flow of battle. Confusion. She looked up, past the overhead jet to the sky above. Realization dawned as she looked upon the still raging flames—Quintus had set the conditions for his own destruction himself. For the master of both Vespa and Zadkhiau, the newfound channels of energy came as a revelation. And thanks to the beta trion embedded in her skeleton she didn't need to physically touch them to access their power.

Subtle, energy deposited from her boots directly into the ground with no immediate demonstrable effect. But gradually, a fog would begin to descend on the battlefield.

Right on cue the reality-displaced revolutionary took to the stage. Something peculiar prodded her mind as he landed but the veil of static was still blinding. No time.

"You should have let the fire take you down."

His taunt packed a surprising punch. As mad as she was, Nastya considered herself the bearer of his legacy, and he didn't even know who she was. He couldn't have cared less. "Maybe next time." She smiled a mirthless smile as she mirrored his movement, drawing the Legacy Blade from its sheath. "Venga. Te voy a dar una galleta."

Nastya rushed to meet Quintus's charge, as yet unable to run the scenario in her damaged head but confident she could more than match a viejo verde.

"I knew you were old—but still using a telegraph?" she taunted as she parried his sword and turned to keep him in front of her. Meeting his charge with staunch resistance at first, it quickly faded and Quintus was nonetheless able to drive and successfully cinch his cradle suplex to perfection. Otherworldly proprioception maneuvering her body midair like that of a cat, Nastya—"Agck!"

–slammed on her head into the frozen ground—the damage to her brain had yet to fully heal—before rolling immediately onto all fours. Gathering up a wad of snow, packing and throwing it with the force of a major league pitcher. A rudimentary, improvised offence, sure. But its primary purpose, even should she miss, was to distract him from the trio of live frag grenades dropped around his feet.

@red_jay

Amidst the mountains, high peaks who gave way to large rolling hills until descending into a deep valley, chaos reigned in the moonlight. Tenjin’s bionic falcon soared across the landscape, riding the thermal winds as the channels took it higher and lower without wing beat. Scarlet eyes linked with the shinobi’s own. Binocular vision granting he and the fell bird retracting and expanding vision, ever vigilant of motion. Somewhere between snow and flames Natsya and Quintus engaged one another in a game of death. While Red Jay, half hidden in the trees, planned a coordinated explosive entrapment.

The Unyielding Warrior sensed his presence. His falcon, benefiting from Katsuro’s thermal vision scanned the forest, catching William’s heat signature when unobscured by branches as he snaked through the trees. The lad was fast for the average human and possessed an admirable cleverness. However, Tenjin was more than mortal; something between cybernetics and undeath. He was a shadow upon a mere whim.

And he was coming for Red Jay.

The aforementioned pill intake was a strange euphoric stimulant and ability enhancer forged by the ingenious mind of Akira Overdrive. Incredibly addictive yet resulting in a threefold increase in his physical stats and his perception of time.

Moving with remarkable speed, outpacing most vehicles in a sprint with relative ease even before the Power Capsule, his vibranium soles rendering him soundless, he was in pursuit; hellbent of destruction. The cascading shadows of the forest allowed him to move freely from one place to another, appearing and reappearing meters from his original location covering ground in a wide arc across the hill he ascended. His sense of hearing was likewise augmented, seemingly otherworldly awareness of frequencies and pitch. Although Red Jay artfully positioned the proximity mines to overlap and resulting in various chains of explosions, Tenjin heard their chimes quite well.

Guerilla warfare was second nature to a ninja, further his time in Cyberware’s Death March program forged him into a seasoned practitioner of unconventional combat. Likewise, proximity mines functioned with infrared lasers, obstructing the laser triggered the motion-activated detonation and with the Ninpo Nightmare’s perception of multiple wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum, he beheld what seemed like artificial fireflies perched upon trees. The beams of infrared light they emitted amongst the darkness turned the forest into what seemed like an EDM Rave sans music.

Then, without warning, the music came... an orchestra of bullets.

The Digital Doom saw the muzzle flash of the large-caliber rifle as it spits fire likes a dragon and the rounds were sent downrange between the trunks and branches of evergreens and ancient oak. Yet, aided not only by his superhuman reflexes but also by the Power Capsule, the 50. Cals slowed down enough for him to witness the pulsing kinetic trails as they flew towards him.

Kitsune, who had been alongside him vanished into a Shadow Portal on command and prior he had thought about his options. He could take to the trees like the ninja of old, perhaps merely teleport nearby the LeBeau prodigy but, this was not his way. Not tonight.

There was no spectacle in these actions.

Tenjin would rush headlong: let his foe witness his acrobatic mastery.

Katsuro burst from his standing position into the swarm of gunfire and deeper into the prison of detonation. His large frame weaving, interlaced around by bullets as they struck trees, releasing a shower of bark and wood pulp with every connection. He felt the force of a round come withing centimeters of his arm, the kinetic face warping his blistered flesh with motion. Leaping into a vault, he corkscrewed upside-down his body using his legs to accelerate his rotational speed and cleared multiple intersecting infrared lasers within a single bound, one such beam purposefully within a hair’s width of his barrel-like chest. Tempting death. Fearlessly mocking that which he dispersed without warrant.

He continued, as he landed like a bird of prey, he rocked forward and entered a controlled tumble before rocketing upwards like a tiger in a pounce, diving over a beam and until a handstand, while swiftly re-anchoring his lead arm to a forward position. With this, the Dynamic Destroyer rotated his mass into a frontside headspring with a 360-degree turn propelled by kinetic detonations with from his palms. Red Jay’s rounds overtaking his last position within the blink of an eye. Airborne, Tenjin grappled an oaken bough and rotated once around it before descending downwards and clearing the final mine, open to attack knowingly thus disappearing.

Replaced by a spectral shadow, as it hovered in mid-air, pulsating with a haunting visage.

William had chosen to take the high ground, advantageous. The massif rose high, a steep cliff surrounded by dormant vegetation. However as Red Jay attempted to grapple the once more, Tenjin emerged from the bleakness of LeBeau’s own shadow, his massive resorting to spear his shoulders the length of the torso. Utilizing the momentum of his previous descent, Tenjin leaped over the boys head, vaulting in a way to bring his feet once over to come into contact with a massive granite boulder a meter away and from their spring back towards William and unleash a dual flying knee at Red Jay’s sternum propelled by a kinetic piston detonation. In an attempt to shatter bone with extraordinary force.

This was not all, aware of a multitude of explosives and a large caliber rifle, Tenjin summoned a Shadow Clone behind his foe and instantly swapped positions in a nigh instantaneous ghostly display, only to bend his knees ever slightly, priming his right hand back like the drawing of a bow, and rotating his entire body to send forth a palm strike at the center of William’s spine. Empowered with black tendrils lacing around his fingers and palm, the Black Trigram, any contact would send forth a wave of mystical necrotic energy into the nearest muscle region.

Whether either attack succeeded was of little consequence, as Tenjin shot his hand back behind him, ensnaring the hilt of his sword as he commenced into his battle stance. He spoke again, his accent Metroplotian Japanese yet hinted at various other sources. "Tell me, William, before you die...I’ve always admired a LeBeau’s tenacity, you all are a very dedicated lot. Yet, when you could have tried to turn my skull into fragments, you chose to bury a bullet into my leg. But it all makes me wonder... why did the Raysh himself put such a lucrative bounty on your head? I plan on repaying him in kind as I roll your head at his feet."

@red_jay: @cutthroatbitch: @tenjin:

Everything smelled like ash. A myriad of fires remained in their destructive residency sprawling out to new untouched locations. Some were to weak to withstand the frozen environment while a few others theatrical displayed the destructive power of their flames.

Meanwhile in the epicenter of the fiery framing, 'she was on all fours, like the whipped dog she is' A rather visceral musing, even for the militant guardian of Gothic City. The prideful posturing bled into a nonchalant shoulder roll silently bragging about his successful suplex, as a suspicious fog rolled in distorting the visual integrity of the field like an underdeveloped photo with its picture glossed over with a smokey sheen.

Inherently trained in the axiological requisites of the Order of Sancta Camisia, as well as the Les Assassians Silinciuex, and in concert with an unprecedented wealth of first hand revolutionary battles and wars, the Alternate Reality Renegade's automatic reflexes acting as the custodian's of his fast twitch muscle purity - shot a deflecting forearm upwards for an interception. A metallic cry rang out almost instantly as the Devils most Durable Deathstroke launched her snow-forged distraction with the speed of a prolific artisan of America's favorite past time.

Seeking to swiftly capitalize on her quick thinking attention grabber before sliding back to create separation from the lethal bastards she had abandoned at the Living Weapon's feet.

"NO!"

he roared at the speed of light just as KABOOMBOOOMBOOOOOOOBOOOOM!!!!!!! instantly the concussive force slammed into his armor arresting various pieces of its segmented layering with devastating violence and reforging them into a swarm of flesh perceiving projectiles, savagely spat in every conceivable direction.

Lunched backwards through the air in a cocoon of flames as though birthed in the breath of the Japanese Ryujin, Quintus ultimately spiked then skipped across the frozen earth leaving a plowed trail of snow behind him.

Unbelievably however as his powerful skid began to stall the Arashikage Sifu let the momentum purposefully over-rotate his exercised body allowing for a sloppy - all be it acrobatic - roll-up to a partial handstand which was uniquely transformed into a postured crouch hoping to regain some crucible of composure.

Never the less what was left of his disgraceful armor mercifully held his tortured body as it silently suffered. Continually tormented with every attempted breath. Every pulse. Every beat of his fatigued heart.

He was barely holding consciousness and fought back and forth with his mind as it attempted to slip into the horrific memories of Reality- M. Maybe he was on autopilot but as quickly as he could, with no real concept of how much time had past or even where his target was located, the Noir Rose jerked his MK23 from the tattered drop-down tactical holsters underneath his shoulders, and began to bust-off sporadic volleys living on a hope and a prayer it would, at a minimal, delay the inevitable follow up. For there was now blood in the water.

Abruptly and thanks to state of the art auto-avionic mastery, the Aethrium Talon starscreamed across the tree tops ahead of its deployment of two Gatling-style rotating 30mm machine guns from underneath its wings unleashing thousands of rounds per minute. Quintus suspected that even if Cutthroat were gunned down, from the damage he had already observed her impressively tank, 30mm was no where near enough firepower. He was going to have to nuke her to stop her.

One minute he was crouched, holding his abdomen as though he were keeping it from collapsing outwards, the next has gone. Leaving behind his own series of smoke-grenades spinning in circles on the frozen crust along the man made ditch the Hangman of Jericho Hill had created with his own body. Unlike the authentic Knightfall who's perahuman privilege granted him a plethora of powerful abilities, the Revolutionary of Reality-M could not bend the the shadows to his will, was incapable of turning the shade into slaves. Yet the experienced utilitarian was a moderate master of misdirection and evasion.

Sadly...he had no idea what, or whom, he was truly up against. If he had he would have employed a different strategy.

@quintus_knightfall:

Nastya threw her head back and laughed as Quintus's body ragdolled over the earth like a rock skipping on water. She took no real joy in causing him harm, but as Quintus cried out competitive spite drove her to further escalation. It wasn't enough to hurt him like he'd hurt her. She had to show him how stupid he was to cross her in the first place. And most importantly, to hurt his pride. To make him live with that.

Qué lástima.

"First you crack the shell open..."she teased in a low, sing-song cadence.

"♪Tell me that you know another way to get it done, it's not me...Or how I would be, but it's a different situation...♪"Slowly droning in song, the tigress stalked her prey at a saunter as though she hadn't a care in the world. In reality, however, gauging his recovery. Inching closer, waiting for the right moment to re-engage tension. Allowing her brain those precious moments needed to heal, so she could finally read what was wrong with him.

"♪Keep on fighting to remember that nothing is lost in the end...♪"Pulling the small disk that was her Queen's Aegis from a compartment on her waist, raising its size and mass to standard through manipulation of its embedded source particles.

"♪When you burn, burn, burn...your life down.♪"

A wall of information came crashing into her like rushing water through a broken dam. The language of the universe was open to her once more, and the universe screamed its directions. She could barely make out his form through the fog but the seventh sense spoke to her in ways her eyes never could, communing with each of her senses and making them better. Finally, the veil was lifted from her eyes and she saw him, truly, for the first time. And she saw...

Incoming!

She heard the moving parts of his pistol click into place just as he moved to fire, felt the angles of would-be entry and exit wounds, and bioengineered chronometric perfection snapped her head to the left—just as a slug pierced the air and tore a chunk of cartilage from her ear. Even physically and mentally impaired the war-torn revolutionary was as good as any marksman she'd met save perhaps Abigail. The game resumed in earnest. Nastya broke into a full sprint guided by a preternatural precognitive decryption algorithm in her mind, weaving around bullets where she could, raising her shield when she couldn't. But this wasn't right. Something was still missing.

Mierda! Nastya cursed inwardly as the Talon roared overhead. Though she trusted he'd had a plan beyond the rudimentary strike he'd been presenting, she was only just able to catch on as he initiated the two-pronged strike, perspicacity bottlenecked by bloodthirst. Still, given the options presented it was no choice at all. The Tiger's Cub raised her shield high and devoured the distance between them. 45-caliber slugs dug into her skin but were less a threat than the storm battering her shield from above, stray shots sending shockwaves and digging up holes, ripping up the ground beneath her.

"Feck that thing!" Babylon's Bastard shouted as she launched a Hail Mary of her own—a gravity grenade launched not at Quintus, but at the Aetherium Talon. A black hole-inspired armament designed to nullify barriers and bust bunkers regardless of composition, the gravity grenade allowed the Goddess of Avalon to enslave the fundamental forces themselves. Its "blast radius" was no pure explosion, but the expansion of a controlled gravity field. A localized event horizon crushing anything caught in its area of effect as external forces acting on the body overwhelm outward-pointing forces, collapsing the body into a singularity at its gravitational center. Though Quintus had disappeared, somehow, he'd made himself a secondary concern. To truly seal a head to head victory, she'd have to deprive him of his aerial superiority and reduce the battle to a pure contest between the two bodies.

@tenjin: @cutthroatbitch@quintus_knightfall

As expected Katsuro managed his way towards William, weaving through one proximity to another. Atop the mastiff, a shadow appeared. The bleak figure appearing from under the moon's sharp cast and onto the thick blanketed snow, the Last LeBeau commenced a quick but subtle handspring in an attempt to evade Tenjin's first assault though leaving him open to his second. Bouncing upon the snow utilizing his hands to direct himself upwards simultaneously proceeding back towards whence he emerged from, a sudden palm-strike directed towards his spine landed effectively dropping William to one knee while the other lay still as it rests upon his chest.

He had been too occupied with the present Katsuro William had forgotten the versatile possibilities he had left in-store; his Shadow Clones. "Clever move," he gruffly directed towards Katsuro, as he was now gazing into the Cyber-Shinobi's very presence. Almost wincing from the pain that was proceeding to strain Red Jay's very flexor muscles.

"Tell me, William, before you die...I’ve always admired a LeBeau’s tenacity, you all are a very dedicated lot. Yet, when you could have tried to turn my skull into fragments, you chose to bury a bullet into my leg. But it all makes me wonder... why did the Raysh himself put such a lucrative bounty on your head? I plan on repaying him in kind as I roll your head at his feet."

Other than striking down on his prey, he spoke. Whether he was leading up towards it or not the tension was aggravating. "Well maybe I was just too cocky to think I could pry you to tell me how you know who the hell I am," responding his inevitable doom William sat upright, both knees dug into the snow and chest, arms, and head left exposed to the Adirondack air. "And from the looks of it, I guess it worked.. tell this "Raysh" if he wants my head he's gonna have to claim it himself."

A sly smile quickly morphing into a stern glance, he quickly shifted towards his left knee that still sat within the snow, as his right propelled himself into a 180, granting himself the quick momentum to reach for his rifle. Two targets were in view. Katsuro and his irritating mechanical bird.

So as he twisted his body, William set eyes upon the surveillance drone. And in one fell swoop, he had positioned his rifle towards the highly-advanced tool that had which been roaming the icy skies, William attempted to land a single shot upon the drone in hopes of destroying Katusro's advantageous view. Landing the shot or not, William had already shifted towards the steep edge of the mastiff leaping off of its ledge, Rifle already strapped onto his back and Škorpion tightly resting into his palm.

With great agility and air, William managed to turn his back to the ground he was barreling towards and toss one of many explosive pellets up towards the steep cliff of the mastiff in hopes of Tenjin attempting to recapture what he had once lost. In doing so, the explosive with great speed, zipped throughout the air and towards the top of the cliff. And with one pull of a trigger, it exploded. Leaving the top of the mastiff scorched, and Katsuro hopefully with it.

Reaching the bottom, William disappeared into the bleak shadows of the pitched Adirondack scape.