DISTRICT B STREETS
Bad Girl's bat connected with the back of Chuck's skull...
Or at least... she thought it did.
There were just... so many of him.
She was seeing double... no... triple... no... quadruple...
Her head was spinning. The walls were melting.
The real Chuck planted his elbow in the soft tissue of Bad Girl's nose.
Her hallucinations worsened. The pain of her broken nose faded in seconds. A chilling numbness was slowly overtaking her.
She had just 6 minutes left to live.
"Come on, Charlotte..." Sorc cooed.
"Use your noggin. You're still young. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it on some dream of 'justice'. Pledge your fealty to me and the antidote is yours. The offer stands. Death or villainy. Last chance."
[Transmission intercepted.] Blade Wolf hummed. He placed himself between Chuck and the children.
[The northern quarter of both District A and B have been locked down by the KnightBlades. They are operating on direct orders from Sorc Tormo. The Compendium Hotel sits at the heart of Quarantined Territory. If we encounter no further opposition, IF Prototype LQ-84i will be able to reach the requested location in approximately 4 minutes and 46 seconds. Calculating alternate ETA should Blade Wold unit encounter opposition... calculating... calculating...]
With Ouka's barrier preventing him from shooting his desired targets, Chuck tossed his gun aside. He removed his paddlesaw from its back and revved its dual chainshaw engines.
"Take your time..." He snorted, raising his weapon above his head. Blade Wolf lashed out it with its own chainsaw saw tail to match Chuck's. The screech of two sheets of steel rapidly grinding against each other could be heard for miles around. It was unbearable. With a primal scream, Chuck pushed down upon Blade Wolf's weapon with his own. Slowly, he forced the machines own tail back down towards it. Sparks flew as two battling slowly shredded Prototype's outermost shell.
[ERROR//ERROR//UNIT//RECIEVING///DAMAGE//DANGER//DANGER//]
"No can do," The guard raised her hand in protest.
"This whole damn sector is in lock down. A guy with a chainsaw is nothing compared to what we're working to contain. The amusement park is closed. Displaced peoples are being housed in the town hall. Fall back there. We can't let you through. Take another step towards me and I'll have no choice but to open fire. I'm sorry, but these are extreme circumstances."
@Yun Lee @Jeremi @Takumi @Lucky @Atomic Knight @Gummi Bunnies
DISTRICT B/C OUTPOST
The horde dropped their weapons. Rhaast's attack served as a reminder of the cosmic food chain. Guys like them? Workers? Shufflers?
Mortals? They were several hundred clicks lower than a creature like Rhaast. There was no denying it. The wise among them dropped their weapons and ran. The proud among them stayed behind. They were rewarded with an painful, bloody death... but at least they died on their feet. The mod was scattered to the wind. A final cry could be heard above the screams. It wasn't a cry of pain or terror... but a cry of
conviction.
"Code 8-8-4-1-8!" A technician screamed into his radio.
"Hostile presence detected on the District B/C bridge! Lock down the Slums! Lock down that---argh!"
His spine was slit in a single wild slash of Rhaast. He fell to the ground, lip and lifeless, his last words wasted on a desperate warning to his fellow workers. He could have called his wife. He could have called his kids, or his mistress. Instead, he died clutching his work-radio, loyal to the very end.
Across the waves, the Outpost was thrown into a state of disarray. Before Rhaast could turn to observe the chaos he had caused, he was struck by---
BANG
---30 pounds of steel, travelling at 70km/h. It's driver pressed his pedal to the floor. His tires screeched and roared. A stream of smoke poured from its exhaust. Pinned to the front of the truck as it charged across the bridge, Rhaast could feel a chilling razor with cut deep into his skin. The driver turned on his windscreen wipers. They struck Rhaast's face again and again and again...
Left
Right
Left
Right
Left
"Take this, Cur!" Frost howled, steering his truck with his one, good hand. He slammed the horn with his tail and laughed like the maniac he had become.
"How does it feel? The pain? The humiliation! Tell me how does it--"
BANG
The garbage truck struck the concrete barriers that sat at the base of the Slum's border outpost. The truck flipped and soared through the air...
Before crashing back into the ground, like a stinking, rusting meteor.
As Eight Hearts cautiously approached the Outpost, the sounds of distant combat would slowly increase in volume. They were getting closer. The Deadeyes reached for their radios. Their eyes widened. They reached for their weapons, entering their alert status. The snipers turned their weapons away from District C. Their placed District B in their sights. They fired two precise, surgical shots towards some advancing target. Content that they had met their mark, they raised their weapons skyward and braced themselves for impact.
Impact. What were they bracing themselves for---?
BANG
A flipping garbage truck rolled its way through the heart of the outpost, its breaks having been severed by the sniper's quick-shots. A blue lizard was sent flying through its windscreen. He was sent skidding along the concrete. The truck- and the demonic figure that had been pinned to its bonnet- punched a flaming hole through the wall of one of the derelict buildings that scarred the slums. The remaining Deadeyes- having leaped out of the path of the truck in the nick of time- scrambled to their feet and picked up their weapons.
"Send a message to Mayor Cluth." One of the Deadeyes hummed into his radio. "Tell him his the contact just got interesting."
"..."
"Tell him that District B just sent him a lovely, flaming present. We'll bring it back to him alive. If he wants it, he'll have to send a bonus our way."
"..."
"Good... Good... Thank you, Private. And thank Mayor Cluth for us... this might be the start of a beautiful partnership..."
The 2 ground-floor guards stepped away from their posts and closed in on the flaming slum. With a wave of their hands, they temporarily deactivated the motion sensors that guided their spotlight canons. The third guard cut his break short. He ventured deep into the break room and started rummaging through a long, metallic crate.
Eight Hearts had the privilege of watching all this madness go down from the comfort of a small shadow cast by one of the Outpost's concrete roadblocks. He had been standing in the heart of the action as it had all gone down. He could have reached out and touched the Garbage Truck as it flipped over his head, had he chosen to. With the 2 ground floor guards away from their posts and the spotlights temporarily out of action, Hearts was free to slip further into the outpost, should he chose to do so.
Whilst the truck had provided Hearts with a good enough distraction during his approach, the rest of the King's Agents were yet to make their approach. The two remaining snipers were extra vigilant to accommodate for the temporary loss of the greatest weapon. A skyward distraction in might provide some assistance to Hearts and any Champions seeking to rush the Outpost.
Alternatively, with the canons deactivated, the Outpost might be vulnerable enough for a direct attack...
And then there was the matter of the demonic figure standing behind the burning garbage truck, and the stunned lizard-man lying in the street. The Deadeyes had them in their sights. The lizard-man in particular was already. His chest was littered with small scratches and fresh scars. His lower back was covered into bruises. A Deadeye approached him. He turned him over with the barrel of his rifle. Without intervention, their fellow hunter was at risk of being captured or killed by a random bounty hunter... and a fraction of his bounty would no doubt be sent to Cluth...
@Capri @Jeremi @Ottonomous Ghost @Lucky
CASINO
"Fuck..." Jyuto cursed to himself.
"Well, I'm in a pickle now, aren't I? I mean, you might go approach another police officer with a headful of wrong ideas. Before you try snitching, listen here:" He slowly reached for the small black microphone he had mounted to his belt.
"This is all... one big test... Yeah, it's all an elaborate test. I wanted to see if a fine, upstanding citizen such as yourself would sink so low as to participate in a bank heist, given the right motivation. Luckily, you passed! Good for you! Now, this may seem like entrapment, but trust me, it's not. I should know. Just don't go blabbing about this little conversation to anybody, okay? We wouldn't want to spoil the test for everybody else, now would we? You never heard me say the name 'Katey'. You definitely didn't hear me say 'Samatoki' or 'Mr.HC'. So. Are we all good here? Or would you prefer some lyrical persuasion?"
@Yun Lee
