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[b][u]Aliquam; Academy of the Arts: Northern Sector: Performance Hall[/u][/b]

Dylan’s hands trembled as he watched his slate be destroyed within the Masked Phantom’s hands. The source of his powers, swept away within the blink of an eye. He needed that slate in order to activate his abilities, without it he was useless. And that thief… that arrogant, cold and callous villain had not only threatened his home, hurt his friends and family… but he had stripped him of that as well. 

Those hands clenched into fists. 

“Two summoners of very different talents… but both no less amazing. My, if only I could actually steal you two as well and add your talents to my collection… but I digress. As you can see, I am not a man to be easily bested, and these actions on your behalf… this fight is futile. Don’t press this further. Stop now… or I will detonate the charges we’ve laid.”

The Masked Phantom’s voice was enough to give pause to the Guilders fighting him. Dylan, Lucien, Aria, Marcus and Xandra all stopped, as wafts of pink fog scattered about and faded into the air from the sweeping of Francesca’s grapnel arms around where Trixie hid. This time the Masked Phantom was serious, and he had had enough of the Pride’s antics to resist. This time he would make good on his promise from before. He would halt this battle now, or else make good on his threat from before. 

And to emphasise such a threat, he pulled from within his jacket the device that would activate the charges he and his allies had carefully placed about the Academy – his thumb placed dangerously over the trigger. He held it up, confidently, and any resistance the Pride might have considered left… vanished. 

Jay and Francesca saw no such compunction in stopping. This, for them, was a golden opportunity to enact due revenge, now that the Pride were backed into a corner they couldn’t fight from. Francesca continued to swipe her grapnel arms into the pink mist around Trixie, aiming to ensnare the troublesome brat and pull her out of her cover. Jay as well had matters to settle with Angel and Xandra, and he grabbed the metallurgist in her surprise and slapped her to the ground beneath him. He muttered a quick ‘sorry’, but little more. 

Everything was falling apart far faster then the Pride could stop…

Dylan lost it. He roared, and began running down the aisle towards the Masked Phantom, his body moving by itself. His slate was gone and with it his powers, but that wasn’t enough to stop him. If anything, the aggravation born from his inability to do anything was what propelled him now. He had been pushed down to his knees, against the wall. There was nothing else he could do anymore other then flail futilely at the Masked Phantom. Even though he threatened them all with the activation of multiple explosions about the Academy, causing mass chaos and destruction… Dylan had nothing left. He wanted to stop the thief. And he wanted to beat him so bad. 

The Masked Phantom shook his head with a sigh as he saw Dylan approach. What was it with these people? The sheer idiocy, in not understanding when they had been beaten?

“Dylan!” Lucien called out, trying to reach and grab his friend, his fingertips just barely missing him. The Matter Artist screamed as he tore down the aisle, raising his fist to strike out. 

The Masked Phantom laughed, and drew another cocky grin. "Fine."

He threw his fist out, and in contrast to his earlier efforts to push his adversaries back with powerful gusts of wind, this time he grabbed Dylan’s head as he came within reach and clutched it tightly, squeezing. He lifted the struggling man’s body off the ground, revealing a surprising amount of strength within the unusual thief. 

“You just don’t seem to understand, do you?” The Masked Phantom hissed. “None of you do. None of you ever stood a chance of defeating us. This entire thing was nothing more then a game! But it’s grown tiring and trite now. Seeing you all struggle and squirm like this… it’s grown dull. Boring! I’ve had enough. This isn’t a challenge anymore. It’s just pathetic. The Academy’s foundations were always going to be destroyed in order to move onto the next phase of the plan, in airlifting the entire building away… and I had intended to wait until you had all given up and abandoned the premises… but I think now you should be taught a lesson, and the explosives detonated already, and-”

The Masked Phantom felt a sudden attack grip his wrist, and before he could even realise it, his hold on the detonator in his hand collapsed. Events seemed to move in slow motion as he turned to eye the source of the attack, and the falling device… to see a woman crouched low to his side, a woman with long auburn hair tied back in a white bow and dressed in the Academy’s traditional Priestess robes, reaching out and catching the detonator before turning back to run in the aisle of seats she had hiding in. 

[img]http://i.imgur.com/8I5EqBQ.png[/img]

Dalia Sanders gave the Masked Phantom a silent glare as she did, and a small wry smile, pleased at the success of her plan, a plan in which the Masked Phantom would never become aware of. 

Dalia not only had the gift of seeing a person’s emotions through the colour of their aura… she could affect it. It was a very difficult, and subtle process, but it was something she was able to achieve through intense concentration. Normally a person might find such a passive ability to be incredibly weak, bordering on the useless… until they considered the possibilities. Throughout the entire battle, she had been staying out of the others way, hiding, and using her gifts to flare up and accentuate the emotions of two people inside the Hall. First, the Masked Phantom and his boundless levels of confidence… to the tipping point where he simply became overconfident in all of his actions, and thus careless to a simple thing like her stealing his detonator. 

And the second, her brother Dylan, and his courage. He would believe he could do anything. And from there…

"You can do it, Dylan," She whispered.

The Masked Phantom felt a swift, stabbing and paralysing blow strike in-between his legs. Dylan was dropped to the ground after he managed to kick the thief, and his blonde adversary curled down on the ground in surprise and pain. He looked up at Dylan, anger and frustration spinning all around him. He raised his fist up again, this time to unfurl a devastating attack of his wind magic, but his body was torn from the ground, and sent flying yet again to crash-land at the wooden stage with which he appeared. Behind Dylan and Lucien, standing next to Aria was Marcus, his hand aflame with bright emerald energy. 

[img]http://i.imgur.com/8mPMSWF.png[/img]

“We can do this!!” Dylan shouted, pumping his fist, and turning to glare at the Masked Phantom, Jay and Francesca one by one. “Don’t give up!” He said. “These thieves are nobodies!!”