Re: An Awakening

[Guest]

The female on the motorcycle drove evasively to avoid the shots coming her way. Her driving was like her shooting, precise and well calculated. What her motorcycle lacked in endurance it made up with in speed and agility. Dodging the mans few shots were easily accomplished by swerving back and forth. Realizing that the man was trying to stall for time, which she did not have that much of, she decided to act. She knew that if she did not she would surely loose her target.

Taking the pistol in her hand she secured it back in place. She then accelerated, catching up to the damaged car quickly. She was hunched over to make any last shots have a higher chance of missing. She then drove up next to the rear end of the Benz and made a leap of faith. She jumped off of her motorcycle and managed to grab onto the rear seat. Pulling herself forward she crouched in a ready stance on the back seat. The bike, now with no rider, tumbled and flipped on the road behind them.

The sound of two snaps can be heard as two blades appear out the end of her sleeves, which are then pointed at the two people in the car. The blade pointed towards her target was being held in her hand, clad in a white glove with the insignia of project Hound stamped on it. This would most likely clear up any doubt of who she was to the target. She had no intention of harming the driver at all but if he was to get in the way of her mission she would have no choice.

She spoke to the driver in an emotionless, almost alien, voice. "You are hindering my mission sir. I mean you no harm but I will have to remove you if you continue to hinder me." Her voice was slightly muffled by the helmet that was still on her head but still audible.

[Guest]

Gunshots fired. coming and going. It was a good decision to slow down since it was not only bullets. bikes too thrown at them or rather left to it's own unguided devices came at them with complement...what an unwanted gift!!

The driver was rather crafty in his profession. Taking right and left to avoid an unlikable event from happening. Who are those guys ? he asked as his nervousness disappeared into nothingness to be replaced by the hot blood - adrenaline, they call it - pumped by the that strong muscle that resides in the mid-section of his chest.

That is what I am trying to figure...seems we are dealing with serious business here. Her voice in southern oriental accent echoed amusingly behind her mask hiding her doll emotionless face. And I wonder why assassins is not capable of showing any emotions except those of pain?

So ?

That when she received a call...

Nani...

We found him...the guy we want...There is no need to make a scene...you can abort anytime now if you wish.

Wakarimachita she acknowledged. Decision was made quickly. Assassins are not fond of that trait people call curiosity. The contract has been terminated.

Turn back...get me back to the city.

Really?

Yeah really...and don't worry. you will get your money.

He left her off to where she wished with his pockets heavy.

-Exit-

[Guest]

Stormy grey eyes snap to the Project Hound symbol on the hand pointing a blade at him. Syphan had been shot, left for dead and then had to fight his way out of a hospital, now this bitch suddenly appeared chasing him...and she now held a blade in his face! The voices continue to play havoc within his mind. Time almost seems to slow as the voices begin their tirade inside him.

Who the hell is she?

Dead! That's what she is! How dare she point a blade at us?!

Dead? No...that is probably us...she will slice us up into tiny little pieces...and then probably eat us out of spite...

You are very deranged.

I know...it runs in the family...I mean look at you guys...

HELLO?! THERE...IS...A...BLADE...IN...OUR...FACE! Pay attention!

Oh yes, that thing. Right, sorry. Got a little side tracked. So, what do we plan to do about it?

Plan all you want...the bitch is still...going to eat us...

JUST KILL HER!! KILL HER...and then...WE CAN EAT HER!!!

Syphan explodes into action, his hand closest to Alesana's moving to grab her wrist. His other hand moves toward her throat. The demented chameleon assassin tries to grab hold of her and make use of his more muscular physique to throw her from the car.

[Sec Invidia]

Hang on, hang on, hang on; the psychotic chick that tried to take out the Benz JUMPED onto the Benz!? Okay, screw this. Flipping a tiny switch behind the steering wheel, Sec set the high-tech beauty on auto-pilot, setting it to drive to Beijing, which was obviously just to prevent it from parking anytime soon. Unbuckling his seatbelt (OH NOEZ! :O), Sec turned to face the car intruder. Standing there was a girl who threatened him and pulled blades on his new companion. In his own emotionless voice of stone, he drew Reaper from his belt, holding the rapier, so it was extended within inches of her face, and spoke. “ Ma’am, I believe it is you who is hindering myself and my comrade’s drive. Likewise, I mean no harm to you, but should you do anything but exit the vehicle, I am afraid that you must be disposed of. And I warn you, I am rather proficient in the act of removing irritations. If you agree to sit down and not do anything, I will pull over and gladly let you go. If not, I will have to ki-” And as he explained to her what he would do if she carried on, OBVIOUSLY, Syphan grabbed her and tried to force her over, and out of the car! That was just plain rude. I mean, yes, she jumped into the car and threatened his life, and basically said she would kill Syphan, but negotiations were at LEAST to be the proper initial response! Honestly, nobody has any common decency these days… With a sigh, he grabbed the back of his neck with his free hand, looking up to the sky. “What did I do, Truth? Whatever I did to earn THIS, I will gladly repent. I’d do ANYTHING to just have a normal confrontation with some NORMAL people for once… Truly sorry ma’am, but I think now we must fight. I apologize in advance for anything me or my companion do to you, but you did bring this on yourself.” So speaking, he held Reaper now at an angle from his side, in his left hand, prepared to block, parry, and slash anything she did.

[Guest]

The female who had hopped into the moving car acted quickly in response to her targets movements but not quick enough. She completely ignored the other mans words as she focuses on her target's hands and his attacks. As he reaches for her arm she pulls back her wrist in time to dodge his iron grasp, her blade narrowly missing his hand in retaliation. His next hand reaches for her throat, not giving her time to make a proper counter attack. She bends back to avoid the grab but to no avail. She was trained to kill assassins but she was not quite ready to face Hound's pet project. The mans hands do not connect to her throat for she was at least able to avoid that, but they did manage to grasp her tie and dress.

The mans sheer strength was far above hers, making her unable to halt being thrown. She flew through the air flying towards the front of the vehicle, an obvious attempt by the man to crush her and get her out of his way. The female may have not been able to dodge his grapple but she was not one to be that easily killed. As she flew through the air she regained her barrings and prepared herself by retracting her two blades back into her sleeves. With her quick reflexes she grabs onto the hood of the car before being forced onto the road and being inevitably crushed. Through pure determination of completing her job she began to crawl her way back up the hood of the car.

[Guest]

Syphan sighs as he watches the girl sent to erase him from existence manages to survive. He has miscalculated, she is well trained. Though her focus is different, he doubts she would expect his next move. Ducking down in the car, Syphan begins to take his boots off. Standing up the young man cocks back one of his well muscled arms and launches the steel toed boot at the girl on the hood's hand. Without delay the assassin launches the second boot flying through the air, aimed straight at her head. As he does so, Syphan's pendant swings out and away from him before falling back to rest on his chest. "Really it is a pity... You're still part of that thing they have the audacity to call a project. The director could just as easily have been replaced with a monkey and gotten better results."

Gah! Shut up already! Just kill her already!

This is...going better then I would have hoped...

[Guest]

The female is well trained indeed for when the boots come flying towards her she reacts quickly. The one thrown at her hand misses narrowly as she makes sure to move it out of the way of the incoming projectile. The boot bounces off of the front of the car an onto the road in front of the car. As the second boot comes flying through the air she tilts her head to the side, letting it graze off of her helmet and fall onto the road without harming her.

After the failed attempt to kill her with the thrown shoes she quickly manages to make her way up the car and to the windshield. A click can be heard as she readies a blade in her free hand. She manages to get up on her feet in a crouched position and prepares to lunge over the windshield and strike her target down. She looks through the windshield to check the position of her target before she makes this lunge. Suddenly she halts in place, her eyes fixed on the pennant around her targets neck. Time seems to stand still for her as she just stares at the mans necklace.

A few moments pass as the girl does not move but remains in the same position as if stuck. She does not move for what seems like minutes. Finally a click can be heard along with the blade in her hand disappearing. She then speaks in her emotionless voice, her expression hidden by the helmet. "I am sorry for I have seem to made a mistake, you are not the one I am after."

[Guest]

She made a mistake? Is that even possible for a subject of Project Hound?

Of course...we make all sorts of mistakes...

But not like-


SHUT UP! ...JUST KILL HER! KILL HER NOW!

Syphan stares at the girl crouched on the hood of the car, taking in every detail and committing it to memory in a matter of moments. He ignores the voices as he usually does while he studies this person who had moments ago been trying to kill him. He contemplated trying to throw her from the car again but decides against it, she could potentially be a powerful tool. The assassin had no doubt that the girl was lying and he was indeed her target but somehow her priorities had changed. He had no idea what had changed them but the young man was very resourceful and could no let such a possibility go. His own voice is soft and without emotion, barely carrying above the rush of the wind, "Not your target? So you just ruined a man's car and attempted to kill the two of us...and it was due to your inability to recognize your target? Project Hound must have begun to slack off after choosing me for the second phase..."

[Sec Invidia]

Sec had placed the car on autopilot for a reason; he had very much intended to fight. But before he could, Syphan and the girl were at it, and Sec could only watch. And then she caught herself on the hood of his car. He could SEE. THE. SCRATCHES. It would take FOREVER for him to get over the trauma of that! Okay, maybe not, but STILL! You DON'T mess up the BENZ!! It just isn't RIGHT!! And after all that, she climbs up, prepares to strike Syphan down, and then says he was the WRONG. GUY!? Sec's voice was deadpan as always, but one would notice that certain words were a bit harsher spoken, and some were a bit softer spoken, this variety of tone signalling his anger inside, if not spoken too obviously. "So let me get this straight; you shot out one of my tires, jumped onto my car and scuffed the hood to crap while climbing to the windshield, for nothing? Ma'am, don't mind me saying this, but you are certifiably the most psychotic woman I have met in my entire lifetime. Could you please depart from my vehicle, now? Truth, if you're going to do it, kill me now, so I don't have to suffer this torture anymore..."

[Guest]

The sound cleaning the barrel of a rifled gun makes is both distinctive and odd, at the same time. The bristles of the brush - provided you're using one - rub vigorously and relentlessly against the carvings and engravings on the interior of the barrel, most of the time fruitlessly attempting to shimmy dirt and collected dried gunpowder deposits from the various edges and curvatures of the weapon's innards. It creates a sort-of... scraping sound, combined in turn with the same sort of effect and resonance using a nailbrush produces.

Ayden could always tell when someone was cleaning or maintaining a pistol, rifle, machine gun, or maybe even a weapon of a heavier variety from a mile off. It was a distinct enough sound that he had it committed to memory, and even hearing something slightly akin to it. It was also the sound that he concentrated on as a gateway or middleman whilst meditating; his flashback in Ciliegia but a few days ago had been triggered by initial synthetic creation and echo of this very same audible noise, niggling and soft initially but slowly swelling and growing until it was sonorous and unbearable; then, the memories began to play back after themselves, with only the sound, looped for what seemed like centuries, as ambience.

It was soothing; almost satisfying. This noise was also the reason that the silver-haired assassin's weaponry was always maintained to the best standard, clean, and fired, above all else, straight. Above all else, however, it was the only reason that a pair of disengaged pistols, slides and springs carefully removed and placed into a box, lay atop the black fabric of the seat next to him.

Ayden's eyes flicked to the windscreen, then to his cavernous touch-screen interface, split apart and revealed from behind a false radio, courtesy of a remote now sitting atop the dashboard; although, it was usually located in a locked glove compartment, requiring fingerprint recognition to be accessed. There was an internal button which could return the disguise, but the opening always required use of the infrared beam that the remote emitted. It was a long-winded and mainly unnecessary system, but the hitman hadn't argued when they'd informed him that the appropriate modifications had been made... along with a few extra surprises. Ayden just loved surprises.

He sat now in his car, static, handbrake engaged, on the top storey of a parking lot, pulled up as close as was humanly possible against the barrier. Also atop the top of the dashboard, inches beneath a tinted windshield angled specifically to provide the creme de la creme of all 'Amestrian driving experiences', sat a black briefcase. Opened, and empty, save for a single metal box, complete with, glimmering, locked into it, only the first visible, five copper-jacketed .300 Winchester Magnum rounds. Clutched in his hands was the framework of a sniper, almost looking incomplete and scarily light, almost dysfunctional in its prototype appearance, but as much as anyone else, hell, Ayden knew how it worked. Perseus. The crown jewel of all his long-range weaponry (which so far only really consisted of a sniper rifle and a crossbow).

A few flicks of the wrist and a twist of the finger, and a hand moved from a sleek black suppressor. The rifle was fully extended and functional, everything necessary added onto the carbon-fibre composite framework - and nothing more. Light danced along the concave end of the slightly-reddened optic lens, glistening in the daylight; hooking his fingers beneath the scope, Ayden pushed his other arm across his body to grasp the door handle, pull it towards him, disengaging the lock, and using his foot to gently, silently inch the mechanism open, before turning his legs and letting him rest comfortably on the tarmac floor of the parking lot.

He flicked out the rifle's bipod and set it down aside barely feet from him. Silence save for a sigh as the gently-setting sun began to dawn on him from the horizon; in futile defense, the assassin through up as an arm, far more accustomed to the dim, filtered, low-light conditions of his car. He sighed again, ducking back into the Audi; a car engine revved in the distance, tyres squealed, and Ayden's ears pricked upwards, before a grin stretched wide across his face. It appeared his prey would be arriving sooner than expected.

The assassin moved into overdrive; in a series of snappy movements, he re-assembled both of the Children, the pistols in the seat, cocking their hammers and flicking their respective safety switches. In an instant, they were holstered at the man's shins; cerulean eyes glinting in the light, the man grasped a pair of aviators - making them the third object on the dash - set Perseus' case gently onto the driver seat, and stretched forwards to wrap his grasp around the miniature remote, almost fitting someone who could perhaps be labelled vertically challenged. He left the door ajar, propped his sunglasses onto the ridge of his nose, and, fearlessly pale, stared straight up at the sun, as if he told the great big setting ball of combusting hydrogen to go fuck itself.

He raised the rifle in one hand and the remote in the other; the whirring of wheels and squealing of tyres was the sole sound Ayden could hear amidst the cold January breeze. A Mercedes, by the sounds of things; he squinted off into the distance for no reason, straining his hearing, before digging out a .300 clip from his pocket and slamming it into the rifle, checking from side to side. The multiplex was totally deserted. He was alone with naught but his prey and his tools, the dominator and the only form or figure with a heartbeat up here.

He'd received the message whilst heading back to the dorm. It had been sent to just about everyone under Stuka's command, but Ayden had replied almost instantly; he'd take care of it. Two or three troublemakers had blown up a hospital in Central. They were to be detained; 'no killing, but maim if necessary'. The silver-haired assassin, eyes concealed as his fringe danced in the wind, stray locks cutting through his vision courtesy of the sunglasses, let his bloody, sick grin carve even further across his pale face. 'Maim if necessary' meant 'no killshots'. 'No killshots' meant 'take a little more care than usual'.

He could use some scare tactics. Scorch the earth a little here and there. Nobody would ever know... right? And, even then, if things went South, between an impeccable military history, what were three bodies and a burnt out Benz at the end of it all?

The white Mercedes came into vision; atop his perch, the hawk-like beast of a man could see several streets, and had the optimal place locked down for his subduing of them and his initial assault. He crouched beneath the barrier, silver-haired head the only thing poking above it, and gently eased the bipod onto the concrete of the structure. Eye pressed against the scope, he tentatively held the remote in one hand, lying in wait, until... until...

Rubber scorching; the engine's roars drew as close as they ever would. They turned onto the target street, deserted save for a few military warehouses and now, the three of them. He could see them; two inside, one on the hood. A rather curious positioning, considering the actual speed that the car was going at, but the man didn't care. Job was a job. Even if it was no killshots. He'd have to have words with Nikolaus... this just didn't do...

He snapped his wrist forwards to adjust the variable zoom; the scope pressed in on the ideal spot, the x, where the treasure would land in just a split-second... and as the man drew in his breath, the white form of the grandiose car came into his crosshairs. He'd already tapped a single button on the remote; 'track'. A small camera had extended from where the gas tank should have been, and had now isolated their heat signatures.

And as his finger tightened around the trigger, he hovered over another rubber button on the remote; red. Yellow caution border surrounding it. Beneath the surface and material it read, painted in clear white print: 'MINIGUN'.

He pressed the button; dropped the remote, and let it clatter to the floor. Before it had even finished its spinning revolutions on a rounded edge, Ayden's hand had clasped the underside of the sniper rifle's barrel, having been adjusting the scope just enough, dragging the form along, making minute yet monumental movements... and his finger squeezed around the prong-like form of the trigger; the shot resonated, racking through his body. The recoil kicked into his arm like a mule, and the force shot through him, jarring and rippling his entire figure, crouched atop the parking lot. He'd made his presence known.

As this was going on, in seemingly naught but an instant, the back 'half' of the R8, black-painted between the two seats and trunk, began to reform and shift, mutating and morphing, panels sliding and being dragged apart from the single touch of a button. It was like a grotesque bodily transformation; save for flesh being steel, blood, hydraulic fluid, sinews, rigid steel cables... he could go on and on and on... the shape shifted and changed, mainly parting to reveal a single compartment hidden beneath it all, perhaps the size of a trunk of decent depth and breadth, black in colour, which slowly shifted up and parted, connected to a series of wires and taut cables beneath it... and the metal compartment was shed, spreading apart to reveal a new, fresh creature, birthed from within, the hammer of justice to combat the camera's tracking heat signatures. In truth, Ayden's shot had been a warning; the new beast was a vindicator, a gladiator, and above all else, a metallic beast of oil and gunpowder. A box of 30mm rounds sat beneath its gargantuan form as it rose above the car and seemingly scanned the barrier, despite its apparent blindness.

Three beeps indicated it had found its target; barrels spooled in unison, hissing and snarling, and steam rose from the heat of its chassis. A minigun, in all its glory, hidden amidst one of the most discrete and silent cars to be found on the roads of Central. Unleashing an unholy barrage of hellfire, tracking the Benz's every step and following up with a hot lead hailstorm, it was the perfect predator, seeking from its perch only to destroy, to sweep and kill. If the skill of these figures in the car didn't live up to expectations, they were surely perish; however, going by Nikolaus' estimations... this had a potential to not actually decimate and destroy them completely...

...it could wound, after all.

[Guest]

The girl stayed crouched on the hood of the Benz, not sure of what to do. She had no doubt in her mind that her former target was indeed important to her in some way. In which way she did not know. That pennant... that was all she needed to see to come to this conclusion. It was identical to her own that she wore around her neck. She had always wore it since she could remember, possibly even before she came into Project Hound. She had to know, was this person a sign of a life out side of the daily torture that was Hound? She had to know and therefore her priorities had changed. She would again follow this man until she found out what it truly meant.

She listened to both the rather annoyed man and the man that had been her target. Her targets words were harsh but the fact that he had made no move and instead spoke back to her symbolized that he was willing to listen to her. Members of the organization that they had came from were not ones for words, especially if they felt in danger. She knew that she could talk to him even if only for a little bit in hopes of discovering what the pendant meant. On the other hand the man in the drivers seat did not seem like he was ready for words. She concluded that she would have to convince the driver to calm down in order for a conversation to ensue.

As she opened her mouth hidden beneath her helmet to try and convince the angered driver, a gun shot echoed through the streets followed by the whistle of a large caliber bullet through the air. As soon as the all to familiar sound entered her ears her brain instinctively began to go to work. Her eyes scanned the street and buildings as they passed. Her mind told her to do one thing an one thing only, take cover now. They were sitting ducks in the position they were in. Who ever this unknown assailant was could easily kill them if they did not get to cover.

Her body reacted only a few seconds after her mind did. She jumped forward from her crouched position on the hood of the car and landed in the back of it. Turning quickly she attempted to grab both of the men in the car's shirts and jump backwards out of the moving car with them in hand. Regardless of whether or not her strength was enough to pull them she would hit the ground behind the moving vehicle with an agile roll. After she completed her roll the girl quickly sprinted off the road and away from the car, hoping to find cover behind one of the buildings lining the streets. The girl would only get lightly sprayed by the debris of the destroyed Benz due to her quick reaction.

[Guest]

Syphan watches the female on the hood of Sec's Mercedes still trying to figure out why her priorities had changed so suddenly. The assassin had thrown her over the car and then threw his boots at her. He hardly believed either of the two are any reason for this girl to stop trying to erase him. What was it? Why did she stop?

Perhaps she just really hated boots. Yes, that could very well be it. She hated your boots so much that she tried to kill you but then you removed them so everything is fine.

We really are stupid...that statement proves it...this head is full of morons...

Who are you calling stupid?! I was planning on agreeing with the obvious hatred of boots! She stopped trying to kill us once we took them off!

She did not stop immediately after we took the boots off and through them though...

Well duh... The girl is obviously a little slow, that is just how long it took for her to realize that we were no longer wearing the boots!

Maybe I was wrong about the boots...

Wait! What? Now you're switching sides, you traitor! ... Why do I even care why she's not trying to kill us? KILL HER! KILL HER N-

The voices in his own head are cut off by the sound of a high powered rifle being fired and the projectile tearing through the air. His own instincts told him that this car was not a place to stick around while someone fires bullets at you from an unknown direction with a high powered rifle. Even as the girl lands behind him Syphan begins to move turning himself around. The assassin mentally notes to himself the slight difference in their speed. Hound had chosen her because she was faster than him, not by much but by enough that it mattered, especially since this girl obviously carries weapons. Syphan's thoughts are interrupted as the girl grabs his shirt and she leaps out. As the shirt tightens around him from the assassin leaps out of the car as well.

She tried to choke us! That bitch tried to choke us!

Shouldn't we pay more attention to the person shooting at us?

Or perhaps pay attention the road we are about to land on...I hope we just get splattered all over...

Tch...So pathetic!

Pain explodes into Syphan's body as he slams into the road and begins rolling. As he rolls to a stop he brings himself up to a standing position in a single fluid motion, though his face is overtaken by an expression of one in agony. The tumble had hurt him, he wasn't really sure how much and he was still wounded from that damn director but for now he would ignore it. He must survive. That was priority number one. If he didn't survive then the mission was a failure no matter how many objectives he completed. That was what-

Was what Project Hound taught us. But we still need it now. Or are we going to give up?

I would like that...

No one asked you!

Calm down you two... We'll vote on it. If you want us to stand here and die raise your hand.

But I don't have a hand...I don't think this will work...

And if you wish to stay alive, say aye.

Aye!

That's one vote for staying alive and no votes for dying. So staying alive it is. There it was settled fair and square.

I dun-

Behind him the minigun begins to spew forth a rain of death delivering bullets for those who it drops upon. He glances back behind him for but a moment to watch the bullets begin tearing into Sec's car. Syphan almost feels sorry for the man and how he had been drug into all this but merely shrugs a little before he bursts into motion. He follows the girl to take cover as bits and pieces of the Mercedes Benz begin to fly towards them. Just as he is about to reach safety the assassin feels something bite deep into his left arm. Leaping behind the cover and landing ob the ground, Syphan stares at an obviously sharp piece of metal protruding from his arm. The young man sighs as he realizes his left arm will truly be useless for now.

The assassin rises from the ground and peeks his head around the corner of the building, leaving the piece of metal in his arm. Stormy gray eyes move to try and find the source of the spray of bullets. It takes a moment but he traces the bullets to some sort of parking structure. Ducking back behind the building Syphan's eyes begin to take in everything around him, studying each and every inanimate object for some sort of potential use. Completely ignoring whatever Alesana and Sec might be doing he begins to pick out a few items of potential and makes a list of them in his mind.

Manhole Cover
A chain around the dumpster

That's not really much you know. Should we check the dumpster?

Yes, just waste some more time...I'm sure whoever is shooting at us will wait for us patiently...

Well the bastard is firing a minigun... Wouldn't that keep him sort of tied down or at lest slow him down.

WE ARE NOT GOING TO CRAWL INTO THE DUMPSTER!!

"What weapons do we currently have? And any ideas on how we should take out the one with a minigun?" Asks Syphan without turning to look at the other two, his eyes still looking at the dumpster and his mind trying to figure the next course of action.

[Sec Invidia]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zi8vJ_lMxQI

As Sec heard the firing up of high caliber weaponry, he knew EXACTLY what was coming. Apparently, Syphan had more friends than he'd expected... Jerking to a slower speed by HALF, he unlocked his door while the other two bailed, and he too bailed out, taking with him his fedora, keys and his precious Mozart CD. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" The last two letters of this ambiguous exclamatory were lost to the wind as the massive man rolled on the grass on the side of the road, watching in horror as his car was ripped to bits by the now-firing gun. As he rolled to a stop, battered and bruised, he took no notice of where Alesana and Syphan were. One thing was on his mind and one thing only.

"TRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTH!!!!! After EVERYTHING today, EVERY. LITTLE. FREAKING. THING. THAT. HAS. HAPPENED. TO ME, you can't show the DECENCY to JUST let me suffer two homicidal maniacs and a few dents CAN YOU? You HAD to send a gun-freak to take from me my most prized possession outside my suit and rapier!? I will PERSONALLY climb to the freaking GATE and tear it open with my BARE. HANDS. to tear the tentacles from your body, ONE BY ONE, if you don't give me SOME slack here!!" And turning abruptly to face the direction of the bullets, he'd snapped his Nine out already. "And as for YOU! I have NOTHING to do with your crap, and you didn't have any business with me. But now? hehe, you trashed my car! AND YOU. SHALL. DIE. BY. MY. HANDS!! I WILL MURDER YOU! Do you understand me!?!?" Blasting out round after round, he strode forward on massive legs, soon breaking into a run, weaving sideways, spiraling ever nearer to the car that had destroyed his own car. He ensured some wild shots weren't so wild, and actually AIMED at the tires and driver, but most of his shots were made of pure rzage. What right did this man have to take from him his car?

"I've had ENOUGH craziness for today, thank you! Now, DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!"

(~(xD I think Syphan or Alesana might need to save the deranged lunatic going after a high caliber machinegun ON FOOT, ALONE. lol)~)

[Guest]

Syphan's thoughts, rational as they may have been in origin, were totally, utterly, and completely wrong. Ayden was not occupied at all with operating the minigun; the car was, perhaps, but, otherwise, his concentration was solely centred on this figure standing amidst a cloud of smoke and torn rubble and tarmac shredded apart by the cyclical-rotary spooling high caliber barrels, giving off steam and smoke from simply being fired. Heated cordite and the smell of spent cartridge casings hung in the air. Smoke. Rubble. Even from this distance.

The man was shouting some garbled foreign language at him; Ayden rose two fingers to snake around a strip of metal leading to an orb, shimmering black-finished, at the end of a bolt. His grip fastened, tightened, eye still pressed dead against the optics of the rifle; and then, the leather-clad figure yanked back the strip of metal, letting it slide back, perfectly-oriented... and...

Click. Clink.

Two tiny, insignificant sounds; the bolt slid back from the feeder, and a spent cartridge case, wispy tendrils of white-grey smoke rising from it, clattered to the floor. The feeder and barrel were empty; Ayden took a grand sniff of the environment once more, smells of various gunpowders and oxidisers filling his nostrils, and he sighed, oh-so-satisfied, before releasing his grip. The bolt slid back forwards, once more with a click. The most miniscule of vibrations, and the second round moved up into the chamber, prepared and ready to be fired, aligned perfectly with the barrel.

The system was foolproof; it prevented pesky irritations such as jams from faulty parts. Semi-automatic and, really, badly-maintained automatic weaponry suffered from this: with a manual element to the system, the cycle, the process, though, and factoring in someone as pernickety and precise as Ayden, accuracy and seamless integration into the system not only made him a viable replacement for mechanised parts, but even an enhancement. This was his domain; in tandem with his excellent maintenance of his own personal armoury, the man able to control more of the firing system meant that everything could work seamlessly, and, thus, he could continue to do what he did best, and pick off unfortunate victims and marks from a distance, before watching their heads explode like bloody watermelons a split-second later.

Relentless, as the man came into full-view, the minigun quickly targeted him, Ayden cursed. Damn that Stuka! He was to maim, wound, pain, hack, beat, bludgeon, slash, cripple... but not kill. Oh, no, killing was reserved for the worms. THE WORMS. The idiots out on the front line given a rifle and told they'd quickly go back to their high-school sweethearts as soon as this perpetual vicious cycle of war and slaughter found its end - which was a paradox in itself. Damn that Stuka, for taking away the one thing he so adored to do - murder. Vicious, bloody, murder; in all his grandeur, he was prohibited from the taking of just a single like. Damn that Stuka!

As irritating as he was, however, he held superiority. A sigh and a grumble, and a few more buttons were pressed; mechanical whirring of a pair of servos, and a set of motors, and the minigun realigned to target the hidden heat signatures. Unleashing its hot lead hailstorm of hellfire a little further up, those that had slipped away in the ensuing chaos from the flaming carbomb would not be exempt from Ayden's wrath - all shared in it. He'd just deal with the surprisingly tall, thin, and gaunt man in plain view a little more... promptly.

Churning up rocks, dust, debris, and dirt, amongst all else, quickly, the buzzsaw of a high-caliber minigun sheared through the road, and cut patterns around those presumed to be hidden from his view, their naivete quickly becoming their undoing... but now, the man, cerulean-eyed and silver-haired, having kept his eye up to the scope, could properly survey his target, the sound of minigun fire tying up his other problems soothing him. Falling rocks wouldn't do that much harm, right?

The man was unusually tall and unusually gaunt. It was odd; but as a thought struck the caverns of the manic assailant's mind, insane, giddy laughter struck his pursed, wicked lips; slyly, a silent grin snuck to his face. Images of the man's leg, at this angle, reached his eyeball, his retina, and a split-second later, his brain; analytical processing begun, and Ayden realised that if he fired now, he could shear through tendons, ligaments, muscle, possibly bone... now that was a crippling shot.

But the thought... the thought that had made him giggle so allowed him to re-adjust by just a fraction of an inch... he brought the rifle up, and centred its sights directly, allowing it to transmit a single, pure image up into the caverns of the man's eyesockets, and he giggled once more: the white-garbed man's hindquarters.

Elegant as he was, suit telling Ayden that much, the assassin presumed he was most likely angered by that horror of a Mercedes, painted white; far too tacky to be grandiose... a perfect example of a true steed was the R8 the man travelled around in. Oh, yes, how perfect... and even more so with that tool of death and sinew-hewing destruction nested within its metal canopies and leather cavities! Ayden scanned the man up and down once more... and giggled the last of this triumvirate of giggles, before, finally, squeezing the trigger.

A flash-flood of light and smoke erupted before his eyes; muzzle flash and tendrils of that same white smoke that the cartridge case and minigun barrels emitted. The recoil kicked back, jumping and jarring through his entire crouched figure, but Ayden was used to it. Spinning, revolving, carving through the air, the round carried enough precision to slice through even the molecular covalent bonds between hydrogen atoms and their oxygen brothers, spun at such a rate that the man wouldn't be able to dodge it without next-generation reflexive impacts, or some sort of supernatural or precognitive ability... suffice it to say that the round was simply shearing through the air, carving a heat-laden swath through the atmosphere towards Mr. Invidia's ass.

[Guest]

The girl leaned up against the building that she and her former target had hidden behind. She had barely avoided the shrapnel from the now shredded car. her reaction time and agility had served her well so far on her missions and had done nothing less then saved her life in this instance. Reaching up she unbuckled her helmet and removed it, letting it fall to the ground. She wouldn't be needing it anymore for she no longer had the matching motorcycle, plus it was hindering her senses from being at their full potential.

As she took off her helmet short white hair fell onto her shoulders. Her silver eyes were void of emotion even in this stressful situation. She sat against the wall for a short while before looking over to see the man next to her. He was wounded, a piece of shrapnel had found a home in the mans arm. He was not going to be of much use to them. He was wounded after just leaving a hospital no less, the stitches had to be coming loose. Not only that but he was barefoot after an attempt to kill her with his boots.

After assessing the man in front of her he began to speak, asking about their current weapon situation. She still had her backpack on which contained her two 10mm pistols along with other various contents, none that would be useful in this situation. Along with her pistols she still had her knifes but they did not have the range they needed. So it was decided, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her two pistols and proceeded to cock them both back, loading a bullet in each chamber and readying them for fire.

"I have Grace and Penance.." The white haired girl said holding up her twin pistols. Her voice had not changed from before, it was still calm and lifeless. "Wait why Isn't the other one with us?" The girl asked realizing that the other man should have joined them by now. Just then she heard the shouting of the man in a language she did not recognize followed by the firing of a pistol. Just then it hit her, the man was idiotically charging the man who had assaulted them and was far better equipped then them. This was not good for if this man died it would be one less to fight the man firing upon them, leaving her and the injured man as the only ones left.

Moments after figuring out that without this man, even if he was acting idiotically at the moment, they would have even less of a chance of survival she sprinted from her hiding spot out after the man. as she rounded the corner she took it all in, the mini gun spraying out an endless stream of bullets, the location of the minigun and its operator, and of course the man charging the parking complex with a pistol. Running as fast as she can she charged at the pistol wielding man. At that moment the spray of bullets from the minigun started to head her way. Weaving to the left of the spray she managed to make it past the rain of death with only a few bruises from the flying concrete.

As she finally reached the man she looked up to see the man taking aim from his perch. With a last final burst of speed she charged the man walking towards his death, tackling him to the ground. As she makes contact with the man the sound of a large caliber bullet leaving the barrel of a high powered rifle echos through the street. Because of her intervention the bullet does not meet its target, instead it finds another. The bullet tares though the girls backpack as she knocks over the man. It enters one side and exits the other, accompanied by a mixture of fabric and stuffing of a stuffed animal.

Hearing the bullet tear through her backpack the girl tears the backpack off as soon as she lands on the ground. Rolling over into a sitting position she sets the guns beside her an looks in horror at her backpack. Her face finally showed a form of emotion and it was on of shock mixed with terror. Even as the bullets from the minigun pulverize the building she was just behind she does nothing but sit and stare at the bag. Slowly she reached her shaking hands to the zipper and opened the bag. Inside there was a beaten up old teddy bear with the addition of a new bullet sized hole torn through it.

The girls mind broke just a little more at this site. Her hands reached up to the sides of her head and clasp it as she stared inside. Her eyes were wide open and beginning to water. They were full of sadness as she looked at her only friend in the world with a gaping hole in him. She was lost a little in her own little world. The spray of bullets and debris did nothing to snap her out of it. She sat stuck in a sitting position over top of the backpack.

[Guest]

Hearing the girl's answer to his question immediately followed by a question of her own, Syphan slowly begins to turn around. While he does, he hears Sec shouting that strange language he had used before in the car. The shouting changes to Amestrian and is punctuated with the sound of the 9mm. Sidestepping several larger pieces of debris from the building, he stops as he notes the girl's hair and eye color, similar to his own. Was there any significance to that? How common were such colors? Did Project Hound merely look for people with such features?

Or perhaps there is more meaning to it.

Yea, probably means we have some sort of disease and we'll hopefully die soon...

No way! It's obvious! We're some sort of superhuman! These colors are a side effect of the experiments that made us! AND THAT IS ALL THE MORE REASON TO KILL HER!!

Well I don't believe that we are superhuman but if we were then I would agree it would be more of a reason to kill her. We are the only one that deserves such power.

Speaking of killing... WHY IS THE GUY WITH A MINIGUN NOT DEAD YET?!

The assassin's eyes follow the girl as she runs out to save the man who seems to be enraged at the loss of his car to the point of losing his mind. Syphan cannot understand such attachment to anything, let alone an inanimate object. He watches as the backpack is struck by the bullet and the fluff and fabric fly into the air. Tilting his head he watches as the girl frantically opens the bag and begins to cry. Did she have a teddy bear or something? Is she crying over a teddy bear? Sec freaked over losing that car and now the girl is crying over a teddy bear? Why did Project Hound even let her have a teddy bear?

Probably another failed control mechanism... I mean look at how well ours worked...

I hate her. She's weak like the rest of them. Just let the two of them die out there!

Actually that is not in our best interest. Our current problem is the guy with the minigun. I doubt we can handle that on our own in our condition.

As if to prove the words of the Drachman speaking voice in his head, blood starts to seep into his shirt from the reopened wound on his chest. He needed to get those two behind cover as fast as possible but the faster he moves, the more blood he will lose. Syphan takes several steps forward as he tries to formulate some sort of plan. A small piece of debris careens down to smack the young man on the head. Stumbling forward the former pet of Project Hound falls onto the ground. His vision blurs while he desperately tries to stay conscious. A moment later darkness takes him even as the voices scream at him.

[Sec Invidia]

Sec had been raging and raging and raging, and then BAM! He had no idea what happened in the moments afterwards. He dropped like a rock, just as the chunk of lead penetrated his butt. He'd been shot before. He knew what a bullet felt like. And he could never get used to it. He didn't even know he'd gotten shot at first; he just noticed its as the force knocked him down, and then the pain took over. He let out a grunt of pain and winced, before noticing the girl. She'd been the one to knock him down, not the bullet. And what did she do? She'd been trying to save him from getting shot, and potentially she spared him the bullet hurting him worse than it did, as the piece of lead pierced her backpack, and a teddy bear.

Now, Sec had no idea who would sit down during a shoot-out to cry about a teddy bear, but he felt like he should do something. So bullet in his right cheek, he stood cautiously, but quickly, winced and grunted in pain, before scooping the girl up in his arms, teddy bear and all, and moving in a sporadic zigzag to some place where they would NOT get killed too easily. Fortunately, thiasa happened to be where Syphan lay, unconscious, it seemed. UNfortunately, however, this place was actually LESSS safe than being out in the open. So, scooping up Syphan, Sec carried the two and whatever belongings the trio had, and began to move quickly away from where he was. But then, on a second thought, he drew a flask of rum from his belt. Still full, as it was intended for Marcie, whom hadn't recieved it yet. Seeing a beer bottle on the side of the road, a malicious grin struck the man 's face. He poured the liquids into the bottle, and quickly shoved a handkerchief into the bottle's neck. Making sure that the handkerchief was firmly fastened inside, he struck a match and lit up the cloth, fanning the flames into full blossom. "Here's one for the lead stuck in my butt, you piece of trash!" As he spoke, he hurled the bpmolotov in the direction of his shooter, praying with all his might that the glass would shatter on the man's stupid, insignificant, foolish forehead, before setting the sniper alight, and coating him in glass shrapnel. He waited until he heard the glass break and ran, with Syphan in hand again, further and further from the road. Hopefully the sniper wasn't at such an elevation as to see clearly over the wreckage and such that Sec had thrown the bottle from, Sec attempted now to simply escape and survive.

"Truth, give mme something... Just give me SOMETHING to work with here!", he muttered bitterly under his breath...

[Guest]

"Security Team Five, this is Major Derocha, over," Ayden had now grasped in one hand a walkie-talkie, black, buzzing with white noise and a dotted grille. His eye, covered still with the aviators, was still firmly pressed against the concave glass end of the rifle scope, eagerly tracking the man and his cohorts' movements; it appeared he had picked up another one of the miscreants and sprinted off.

The assassin sighed, bolting the rifle once more and letting the gold, smoking cartridge case fall to the ground. The bursts of minigun fire were far more intermittent now, finding it harder to efficiently lock on to separated heat signatures; though the stench of cordite still hung heavy in the air. The process continued for a few more moments; in a gap between the blasts of fire, Ayden launched a round from the tip of Perseus. The first one went wide, scattering rocks and rubble just about everywhere. He bolted the rifle and tried again, another cartridge case joining its two brethren on the floor - no luck. Once more, wide.

The man cursed his seemingly terrible aim for the day, and found himself wishing he'd gone for a headshot as opposed to something more embarrassing; although with a piece of mushroomed metal sitting in the man's ass, he wasn't exactly going to go far without medical attention of some variety. He bolted the rifle a final time, hearing the last shell click into the chamber, and the fourth cartridge case fall to the ground with a clink. A deep inhalation; target locked, finger squeezing on the trigger, and-

Hang on... just what the fuck was that?!

The man had stopped dead and pulled out some form of primitive explosive. A molotov cocktail... a guerilla wearing a suit? Most interesting. Ayden arched an eyebrow initially, and began to quickly process the facts... with heat signatures from the flames dotted all over the place, the minigun would be fairly useless - the barrels were beginning to glow a rather bright orange anyway, wispy trails of steam raising from them. A few more button taps, and, all-too-quickly, a few more hisses, and the mechanism's spooling finally ceased. Metal plates cycled aside once more; the thrum of mechanics and hydraulics, and, discreetly enough, the minigun collapsed back into the car's otherwise-empty interior, a back window and several metal plates sliding back into place almost seamlessly with a series of hisses and clicks. A split-second later, it was all over - once more, the Audi was back to its beautiful, sleek state.

Ayden realised, however, that he'd have to hurry with this final shot. Super-heated shards of glass weren't exactly his favourite things in the entire world, even less when propelled at vicious speeds such as that. The man's throwing arm seemed to be right on track; just as he launched the hastily-prepared cocktail, petrol-soaked rag twisting and contorting in the wind, his finger pulled tight on the trigger and the last shot of the clip finally resonated throughout the bounding Central buildings, unscathed but for weeks after Amestris' initial destruction, and now brushed by gunpowder once more.

Grasping the rifle's case and the weapon itself - now rendered inert thanks to the lack of live ammunition in the chamber - by the thin metal barrel, Ayden turned and sprinted back towards his car, sliding at the last moment as he heard the glass shatter and the combination of liquids light up with an explosive fwoomph. The car door, still ajar, that he'd managed to more or less take refuge behind, absorbed most of the shock from the initial explosion, shrapnel and all - most of the glass simply fell upon the car bonnet, inert in but a second.

The flames, however, were quickly taking hold, eagerly advancing even over this comparatively barren rough stone terrain. Ayden quickly threw his weaponry into the passenger seat of the car, empty case and all; clasping naught but the communications device in one hand, beneath leather-clad fingers, the man, in a single, fluid movement, turned, slid gently into the black leather interior of the R8, grasped and yanked the steering wheel with one hand, and raised the walkie-talkie with his other.

The squeal of tires; the accelerator had been slammed. Ayden and his sleek, versatile vehicle made a quick turn through the flames, passing through them before most of the damage had been done - some paint had most likely paled ever so slightly on the bonnet, but the flames hadn't yet picked up enough to melt the tires or damage the glass. It wasn't the exactly the most comfortable moment of the man's life - he flinched as the car gently picked up speed, racing through the hungry orange lances - but he had made it, and that was what mattered.

In an instant, brushing himself of a few stray shards of glass, the assassin cursed, and raised the walkie talkie. All too quickly, he had descended into the interior levels of the multiplex - it was no use, now. The damage had been done. The assailants had been allowed to slip away - but there was another battle yet to be fought. Ayden spoke quickly into the dotted grille, assuming the identity of a competent, good-mannered, appreciative military commanding officer. "Security Team Five, are you in position?" In reality, he just liked - no, loved - no, ADORED - the power... and its abuse.

A crackle of white noise and a quick response. "Roger that, yes we are, sir."

A light chuckle; Ayden nodded to himself. There was always a contingency plan, especially with Nikolaus' men. "Initial strike has been dealt. There are three different insurgents; one has been wounded and is known to carry primitive incendiary explosives, and carries another. The third is alone and has most likely not gotten far; establish a one-kilometer perimeter and set up checkpoints leading into different sectors. Call in teams six and seven under General Stuka's command, as well as a clean-up crew and the fire department. Damage done to environment was kept to a minimum but there are known instances of flames taking hold as well as a partially-collapsed sewage system."

"Roger that, sir, I have men setting up the perimeter now." A quick pause. "Anything else, Major?"

A smirk hit the pale face of the assassin as he turned the car into another ramp and descended yet another level, hitting the speed bump as slowly as he could. "Yes, there is..." He trailed on, finger still on the button reading 'Input' in a faded white font. The light shone a couple of dozen metres away - the exit. Excellent. Ayden turned towards it, the home strait, and began to pick up speed. "Find these bastards today, Sergeant. Run containment, too. These insurgents are charged with disturbing the peace - and don't kill them unless they engage directly first. No rumours are to be let out, and, plus... Chancellor wants them alive,"

With that, the silver-haired assassin turned into the pale January sun, and forced his foot down all the way onto the gas; he flicked the 'on/off' switch on the side of the walkie-talkie all the way downwards, and dropped it, letting it fall into the cavernous depths beneath his feet. Ayden shot a quick look towards his rifle; he'd take care of that later.

However... for now...

The car sped down the road, quickly escaping the scene of destruction behind him. He had... he had places to be. This little debacle had annoyed him, somewhat - but resistance was a challenge. As was the security team; if this mystery man garbed in white, injured and with a passenger, could avoid them... then, perhaps he deserved his freedom. Ayden was feeling kind today; his good will was fickle, but luckily enough for Mr. Invidia, present and strong. Alongside that, he had his orders - no killing. Bloody murder and torture generally came with the territory.

[EXIT THREAD]

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