The brakes squealed as the bike came to a stop beneath a streetlight, wheels crunching on the too-dirty street that hadn't been swept in far too long, and the suspension groaned as the weight of its rider was removed. He leaned his bat against the handlebars as he lit up his cigar (because honestly, what self-respecting action hero doesn't smoke a cigar?), and sat back against the bike. Tossing the match and picking up the bat, he swung it over one shoulder and glanced down the three other streets that led to the intersection, hoping to get a glimpse of his competition before they arrived. It was only about one in every three street lights that was still working, but he had pretty phenomenal eyesight so he wasn't too worked about missing something, even in the dark spaces.

In a brisk walking pace, Vos swept down the city's streets, his sneakers lightly tapping the moist asphalt. It were autumn, nights frosty and trees tinted muddy brown underneath the orange nightlights. While he liked cold better than baking in the sunlight, he made sure to wear some warm clothes: a leather longcoat, worn over a thick hoodie - its hood covering his head - and black trousers tucked into the boots. Vos would usualy make an effort to hide his prescence, but all combatants were waiting for him this time, aware that he would come. Vos, tucking his hand into the coat's pockets, nervously fiddled around his stilleto's grip: he were against facing a foe in open off the bat, but this was a test, issued by his mentors. Either he would fight according to the rules, or he would fail it and deal with the conseqences. No, he were no coward - Vos simply took on a more professional approach, eluding any risks when possible.

The sound of rubber rustlling and then screeching against the road reached his ears. Turning around the courner, he a biker of some sorts, his veichle standing nearby a crossroad, very similar to what the mage was looking for. Stopping to observe his surrondings, Vos sighed, his breath becoming a small cloud of vapor in the air. Yes, this was the place; although, if he were told right, they were still waiting for one more person to arrive. Pulling down his hood and unsheathing Danwarge, Vos slowly crept towards the crossroad, finding no reason to hurry. Now, his face were visible: sharp, with wide cheekbones and deep set eyes, a goatee showing around his sulking, pale lips. The only thing that didn't suit the mage's evil demanor was his straight, black hair trimmed into a pagebody haircut.

With hazy eyes and a prolonged yawn, Mik awoke on a bus-station bench. The spider's eyes opened and closed a few times to readjust themselves, trying to get a good look at the ruckus that had woken him up. As well, he was stretching himself out, standing up and bending his arms over eachother to pop all of the joints. Of which there are quite a few.

Three of his eyes trailed on a man with a motorcycle and a baseball bat. What is this, Mad Max? Who dresses like that? Mik remembered that he was wearing pajamas and decided to not judge him based on his dress.

The rest of his eyes, with the help of a tilt of his head, looked to the other man. Looked like a normal dude, but he carried himself with pretty high regard.

Wait.

Why were two weirdos here? Especially at this hour. Mik's thoughts paused for a moment. The arachnid looked around, trying to spot the moon. When he finally saw the moon he nodded. Yeah, what are two weirdos doing out at this hour? It wasn't really all that important. They woke him up, may as well do something about it.

He made sure to step out a few feet, away from his bus station resting place, placing his body underneath the light of a streetlamp. While the other two would be piddling around, Mik decided to start stretching himself out. Why else would the man with the motorcycle have a bike, other than to fight?

So that were them. A scrawny looking kid and a six-armed freakshow. Why did he never get the interesting contracts? He'd heard about a guy last week who got a contract on a planet. Or was that next month? Meh, impossible to tell. Point is though, a whole f***ing planet! That must have been fun. Or would be fun... One of the two. Point is though, Sev didn't much like getting the wussy contracts, so these two better put up a lot more fight than they looked like they could.

In the end though, it didn't really matter. They'd be dead and he wouldn't. It was only a matter of time, just like it always was. "Alright kiddos, let's get this party started, shall we? Who want to be the piñata?" Standing from his perch on the motorcycle, he swiped a loose hunk of concrete off the deserted street in his left hand and held his bat in the other, then hefted the fist-sized chunk into the air and sent it flying with a one-handed swing that would make any home run record holder weep with shame. Straight at teen hipster's chest.

He were a mere several dozen feet from the biker when somebody quite peciluar indeed rised from their wake to join them. Some six armed primate with eyes streching the chin to the temple, dressed in pajamas, he couldn't be anybody but that third fighter he were waiting for. The other guy semmed to agree with Vos on this matter, as he spoke up, suggesting that they would commence their battle this very moment; although, in quite a rude manner, which Vos did not hesitatate to comment on, muttering "what an ass" under his breath as he armed a 4 edge dagger in his left hand. Held in a underhand grip and pressed against the four arm, it were mostly meant to parry, but up close, it could come in handy to pierce through the biker's armor as well.

Vos had a feeling that he were the type to attack immediately, flaunting their arrogance, and wether that were true or not, but Sev indeed took the initiative. The mage raised Danwrge, its flat at a steep angle to the makeshift projectile's trajectory, and sent the Pulse spell through his blade. While that werent enough to deflect, it soaked a majority of the concrete hunk's kinetic energy, making it helpessly bounce off the sword itself without ripping it from Vos'stoorge's hand, and then giddily roll away. He could deal with with, but something was fishy about the biker, his swing obviously not fast enough to send concrete flying at such speed. Perhaps, either the man, or his weapon held more than the eye could see.

Leaving those thoughts to be, Vos assumed a battle stance, right hand outstreched, left covering the stomach. He would fight the biker now, approaching him in fast cross-steps, yet stay alert in case he launched another ranged attack. His other opponent didn't seem as agressive, plus, he weren't happy about the possibility of getting whacked in the head with another rock while he would be dealing with all those arms. So first of all, he would try to blind Sev, spraying him in the face with chemicals. A distance of 6 feet would be enough to reach him.

While the other two were busy making flashy shows of what they can do, Mik just sort of stood there. Stretching a bit, while he's already stretched out, it's never a bad thing to stretch a bit more. Plus it feels so nice. The arachnid outstretched every one of his limbs to the limits of their reach, and then let them go limp as Vos passed by him. May as well let those two peter eachother out, then beat them into submission once they're tired. No sense in stopping them, especially if they're willing to beat themselves up. Saves him the trouble.

There were two fella's here, and they had opted to take the flashy path. Dressing in showy dress to impress or intimidate, whichever one of the two. They also had decided to show the other parties involved what they were capable of. The biker with obvious overcompensation issues, was quite skilled at sending things flying? Maybe. And the other was skilled at stopping things in their tracks. Isn't this just a peachy little group of folks?

"Ooh, well aren't we just fancy." He emphasized the second syllable of the last word, though whether he was mocking the boy's clothes or his rigid combat stance was unclear. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six. Six." Six was the perfect number really. Long arms got him just under halfway there, and the oversized bat made up the rest, so as soon as he stepped into range Sev swung hard and fast, a left to right one-handed swing that was aimed for the kid's head. He didn't know what the kid might have had in store, didn't know about the chemicals or how they were intended to be delivered (even his writer didn't know that second part), so he just swung his bat before any of that would matter. Quick, simple, and efficient.

Truth be said, Vos hadn't thought of how the biker would react to his approach, and nearly took a hit to the face, narrowly evading the attack. He'd be in for some trouble if Sev had aimed any lower, but this time, he only had to duck underneath the bat to dodge it. Truly amazing luck, but he didn't have the time to celebrate: bat's usualy had a majority of their weight shifted to the tip, generating greater amounts of energy upon impact, but also becoming harder to stop for the wielder, winning the mage a subtle fraction of a second to retaliate. His right arm was already outstreched, and Vos chose it to deliver the fastest slash he could muster right now: straightening himself, he lunged forwards with his leading right foot and drew Danwarge's blade across Sev's forearm, his arm straightened and wrist turning the sword to impact at at a steep angle for optimal cutting power. As his arm pulled towards the torso, he bent it, absorbing leftover momentum, and immediately threw another strike, stabbing at the biker's solar plexus. Bringing in his left foot, Vos pushed off with it, decreasing the distance between them to just several inches and adding the weight of his body to the stab. However, his other foot were only slightly lifted off the ground, ready to slam into the road's asphalt and halt his movement for a transition to a dodge or parry.

The strike were dangerouns enough on its own - mighty, fast and with quite a long reach - but Vos had spiced it up with magic, turning it into outright deadly. Just as he finished his first attack and were about to execute the second one, Vos finaly released the Pepper Spray mist, pumping it through Danwarge: his sword were a channel, just as any staff or magical artifact, the only kind of spells he couldn't use with it being one's which stricly used only his body as a vessel, such as Ignition Strike or Boulder Gut. The jet of harmful acids would spread in a cone, thus, reaching Sev's face even without being directly targeted at it, although the concentration would be significantly lower, only causing the eyes to tear, yet leaving skin untouched. The better for Vos, as he were about to barge through this mist himself.

If the thrust sunk in deep enough, he would chain in another spell - polish to his stab, and a finishing blow. Sending the Pulse into Sev's body, he would rend the diaphragm, stomach and lungs apart, wrecking heavy damage and intese pain. Perhaps, if he got lucky enough, this could even break the spine and cause a microcardiac arrest. The latter were a strange way to defeat an opponent in melee combat, but Vos didn't really care, as long as both could get the job done. And bring an end to the biker's snarky commentary as well.

His blood dripped between his fingers, falling to the ground and dissapearing down a nearby drain in the dingy back-alley. The Demon-spawn watched it go, his mind oblivious to the pain from the cut he himself had inflicted as he concentrated on the dark-red substance's path. Even as he attained his prey's position his mind flickered with contempt, considering the situation at hand.

Whoever had made the sacrifice which brought him here must have badly wanted his quarry dead, or worse. It wasn't a simple practice, that much was for sure, and the cost was usually far greater than one realised. Still, enough musing on his personal circumstances, there was a hunt to conclude.

Striding from the alley with the pacey walk of the average city-dweller, Azarak moved as if he owned the streets, until he was close he was only to look like a predator, certainly not easy prey. Those who usually frequented the darkness were not foolish enough to tackle him, though not a one was smart enough to say why. In smart business dress, he moved comfortably over the significant distance his blood had led him to cover. Finally, after what felt like hours, he found himself close to the near deserted intersection and his demeanour drastically changed. Gone was the high standing, eerily confident stance of a man completely assured of his own abilities. He looked more halting, his head turning rapidly to check behind him every so often, as if taken by a more reasonable paranoia. He approached the bus-stop first, his prey should have been pretty easy to spot. There, close by, the additional limbs were a dead give-away. He approached along the side-walk with his continued submissive demeanour, turning his head away for the last fifteen seconds until he was within spitting distance of the human-spider.

Still looking away he turned his body off to the right, keeping Mik on his right, provided Mik didn't instantly attack the skittish looking individual he would engage him with some subterfuge.

"Alright there pal, don't suppose you could tell me where I can find Belmont Street?"

Right on the edge of the light circle emanating from the lamppost, his left hand rose peacefully while his right subtly snuck towards the revolver at the small of his back, six shots flashing in his mind as he imagined the weapon.

His head snapped forward to observe the freakish looking man for the first time, and he allowed shock to filter onto his face. If one was particularly observant, considering it was dark, and they weren't already alerted by his own slightly unusual appearance, they might have noticed his shocked expression lasted a little too long. It was difficult for a Demon, even in human form, to fake an expression they had never had any reason to use naturally.

"What the hell, you've got-" With a practised and obvious suppression of his own shock, his gaze darted towards and away from the man's multiple appendages. As if attempting to remain political correct he made an obvious show of avoiding staring at his arms. "Uh, sorry, yeah, Belmont street do you, uh, know how I can get there from this stop?" He nodded over to the bus-stop, his right hand clasping the hilt of his weapon.

A man approached the spider man with little hesitation and no apparent reason, especially in the mdidle of the night. A bit suspicious ain't it? Mik didn't really question it, I mean, he's napping on a bus bench for no particular reason. "Belmont street?" Mik was actually poor at telling directions, that's a fun fact that I didn't actually expect to have come up in this RP. "You take a left up there at the thing, turn another left at the place with like two green signs. And then go forward for like, two or three blocks. All the while he was gesturing with his hands, and if there were Catholic Signer were around they would thave sworn he was signing in tongues.

Mik did not fail to notice his hand creeping towards the concealed weapon, though admittedly, he didn't really care about the weapon. Or if this guy decides to attack him, there's already two people fighting nearby. "The two of them over there seem to have supernatural abilities, so uh, you might want to head out there, pal. Lest you wind up in the crossfire."

He indicated over his shoulder to the two superhumans duking it out just a few feet away,it was quite evident that this fellow was focusing solely on Mik. Maybe he was here to kill him, or maybe he was just dumb. Sometimes people were just this dumb, that's why he doesn't use the internet anymore. They are insane, on a lot of levels. And significantly dumber than the general populace outside of the internet. Why is he thinking about this? He doesn't know, just stream of consciousness.

Fuck it, it was worth a shot, but this guy wasn't going for the distraction, hell he hadn't even listened to his question.

With all his super-natural speed, the hand clasped around the weapon suddenly whipped forward and in less than a second he had a fully loaded revolver pointed at his multiple-armed and surprisingly acute quarry. The weapon bucked in his hand as he fired his first shot, slightly off to the right of Mik's center of mass, to be expected after taking aim and shooting so quickly.

He wasn't sure if he would need a second shot. A human professional would have fired a few more times, then again, a human would be shooting a human. Hell, it wasn't even clear as of yet if he would get to fire a second shot, better to let his first action do its work and react accordingly.

A quick draw, aimed for his gut, nice. He had drawn with the right hand, which gave Mik the perfect opportunity to avoid it. When you draw a gun from your right side, that leaves the entire left side of your body exposed for a short period of time. As well, when you fire it directly forward from the right side of your body, there is a large gap in the area where the bullet will fly. These are things that Mik has learned from his countless days of training in the art of combat.

As well, Mik knows how to react to someone drawing a gun on him.

Taking a small and snappy sidestep to his right, he twisted his torso counterclockwise as the demon drew his gun. Leading himself into Azarak's left hand side and out of the way of the gun's barrel. Mik turned his own torso, to give an even wider berth from the gunshot and raised two of his three right arms upwards towards his side and neck. He laid out the uppermost hand flat in a chopping motion. The lower hand was balled into a fist, aimed at his new opponent's side. These are relatively slow strikes, and a quick backstep would be all it takes to avoid them.

In fact they're not even meant to hurt Azarak. If they do strike, they won't even leave a bruise.

Sev simply let his arm keep swinging, staying just ahead of the sword blade until it was quite safely out of reach off to his right side. It was really nice of his opponent to deliver an attack that required no additional effort to avoid. He'd have to thank him for that later. Very considerate.

Sev, on the other hand, was not in the habit of making considerations of any kind, and as soon as the kid shifted his weight forward his left leg shot up and out toward the kid's oncoming stomach. Even encased in armor, the kick was fast enough to land before he'd be able to follow through into his second strike, and powerful enough to send him sprawling. Sev also noticed a bit of misting in the air, though it did little more than make him want to blink a few times.

His first attack failed and second ended prematurely, and Vos clearly understood that this was due to the distance remaining between them. It looked like his opponent understood this from the very start, trying to make him back off with a swing, and now seemed to carry on with this task by jamming a kick into his gut. The attack was more or less expected: if the biker had no tricks up his sleeve, then, with both arms holding the bat and his torso, together with the right leg absorbing its momentum, only one limb was left to attack with. However, Vos had just stepped forwards to slash at Sev's arm, and couldn't dodge the kick in time.

Instead, he would attack. Turing his right foot sideways and slightly bending his knees, the mage assumed a stable low stance to keep his feet on the ground when he met the kick. But no, he weren't going to meet the kick with his stomach, not at all. His left hand, which until this moment were resting at waist level, sprung into action, while Vos's nimble fingers whipped the dagger's tip to point at Sev's heel. Thick, sturdy and un the grip of an extremely strong man, it would punch through both armor and bone, guaranteeing him quite the unpleasant experience. While this strike would hopefuly hold his leg in place, Vos would attack with his sword, which, although prepared for a stab, would perfectly serve as a tool for a downwards, left-to-right slash. Having spent quite the lot of time inspecting and just swinging around his weapons, he knew where exactly was Danwarge's center of percussion - the spot where the oscillations were minimal, which conserved a grand of kinetic energy when cutting through tough material, such as hard armor. Now, he would aim to with it just beneath Sev's kneecap, tearing the tendon there and crushing the joint it covered with his blade's tip.

Of course, the biker's armor could win, effectively resisting Danwarge's brute intursion - but Vos still had another way of damaging the leg: sending a shockwave into the knee's side could be enough to dislocate it, given that the blade would be pressing against it. Double the chances if the endavor with his dagger worked.

For armor plates that could take a hit from anything short of depleted uranium and keep on going, a pointy knife and the force of a kick were small obstacles indeed. The dagger would pierce the rubber sole easily enough, but on contact with the alloy armoring underneath it would find it's offensive journey very suddenly redirected. Thanks to the kick possessing both more mass and more momentum than the dagger and the arm that held it, it would be driven backward straight toward its wielder's stomach with enough force to drive the handle deep into the man's abdomen, whether it was pointed or not.

It would be immediately after that occurred (if no way was found to mitigate that occurrence) that the sword would strike his leg and be halted in its tracks by the armor's plating. It would be at this point that the air burst is unleashed, if the other man still possesses the fortitude to do so, and knocks the leg aside, out to Sev's left. Due to its point being stuck in the sole of the boot, the dagger (whether embedded in Vos' stomach or not) would be wrenched to Vos' right as Sev's leg is knocked away.

Stronger than the majority of human warriors, Vos could punch through steel plate with little strain, but even then, he were just an apprentice; crossing the margin of peak human strength weren't enough to rival space-age technological advancment.

First, his own hand were forcefuly rammed into his side, painfuly bashing him with the dagger's pommel. Forunately, crouching, he flexed the abdominal muscles, negating any internal damage - but immediately after that, followed Sev's boot, violently throwing him backwards, Danwarge helplessly slipping off the leg's armor as he fell. The sideways stance did save him from sprawling down on his back though, instead, allowing Vos to first fall on his left knee as the leg bent, and then stop the fall altogether with the dagger wielding arm, which were thrown back and now ready to support his weight.

There were more than six feet between them, but that would prove to be little of an obstacle for Sev, should the mage continue laying on the ground. He had to get on his feet fast, before he had his skull smashed by the bat, so screaming, half in pain, half with rage, Vos'stoorge brought his right leg in and heaved himself back into position, his right arm raised with the sword pointed towards Sev's face - if his opponent managed to reach him before he were standing straight, Vos would try to prevent his attacks by spraying a tight jet of acids from the tip of Danwarge.

If this somehow worked, he wouldn't rush back into combat: his mentors were right about sending him here, his lack of combat experience already showing in such a painful manner. Hewere capable performing feats of agility and speed that could be nigh impossible for a normal human; his body was both powerful and nimble at the same time, making him inhumanly swift and mobile. Unfortunately, that seemed not to be enough to safely incapitate his opponent, as proven just now, the biker having superiour reach, a rather keen combat ability and the advatage of being able to ignore most counters thanks to his armor. To retreat were the best available option right now, and so, Vos backed off a dozen or so feet away from Sev, moving in cross-steps: this would allow him to snap into a battle stance immediately upon any sign of danger. Then, he would swap his sword for a thinner and shorter stilleto - using a more maneuvrable weapon to slip underneath the armor or slit Sev's throat seemed like the way to go.

To pull that off, he had to get into and past the bat's range, and skill alone would be insuffcient for that task. Vos gathered his mana and unlocked the seals on two of his spells, letting power flow through and bring them into an energized state. One were Black and White, targeted at Sev, and the other - Boulder Gut. Both grew active in a matter of seconds, and Vos released them, hoping that this would turn the battle to his favor.

Now, evidentially Mik's movements had been quick enough to avoid his first and only shot, and the demon watched it whistle over the spider-like beings right shoulder and off into the darkness. The Demonspawn was relatively young and inexperienced, but to a demon such descriptors still denoted years of war and battle. In all those years though Azarak had yet to fight a multiple limbed opponent, and the experience was certain to be interesting.

The momentum of drawing a gun with his right hand had the effect of straightening up his body to face the spider who was now hastily approaching his left side with a two pronged attack. With little time to spare, despite the apparent lack of ferocity the spider exhibited, Azarak refused to give up ground and used the closest weapon he had to hand. The pistol, failing in its purpose to end the fight quickly at range was now to serve as a blunt instrument, in Azarak's experience far more useful in close proximity.

Skipping to the right and forward on his right foot, he pivoted around as much of his opponent's attack as possible, receiving a glancing blow to his left hip for his trouble while his left hand jumped up to block the higher strikes with his forearm. The move was fluid, as one would expect from a pacey, dangerous opponent like the Demonspawn. So as he blocked -most- of his opponent's attack the pistol whipped around and the grip of the weapon hurtled towards Mik's left shoulder, as close to the neck as was possible, a stunning strike on any human. Should it land Azarak was soon to learn if mutant spider-people were equally effected by sharp blows with blunt metal weapons to their nervous system.

His foot hit the pavement and he just kept going forward, taking another step with his right leg and bringing the tip of the sword to about a foot away from himself. His right hand wasn't idle though, and even as he moved forward, keeping pace with the backward skid he'd pushed Vos into, he brought the bat forward, swinging it hard toward the hand that held the sword pointed at himself. If it were a fully human hand being hit, the bones would be all but ground to powder by the successive shocks of the strike followed by the reflection of the force a moment later, and even for Vos' hardened bones it would likely mean a great many fractures and splinters that would leave the hand almost useless.

The bat would strike at the same moment the sword was leveled at his face, and this meant that his enemy would be forced to choose. Harm the armored biker at the cost of his dexterity or abandon the (unbeknownst to Sev) acid jet attack and retreat to attack another way.

The mage's preventive measures weren't even ready when Sev had already sent the bat rocketing towards him. Vos clenched his teeth - he were a dead man if that hit him in the head - but the next second, he already knew he were safe. The first swing taken at him had shown his the maximum range of the bat, and now, his wit and trained eye pieced that together with the biker's movement, revealing its trajectory just before it would reach him. Truth they say - the more information you have, the easier it is to make the right decision, and instead of trying to block or spray Sev with acid, Vos sunk underneath the bat, and then, lifting himself off the ground the slightest bit, pushed off with his arms, adding two Pulses on top of it, sliding a few more feet away. There indeed no time to spare with such an opponent, so, without hesitation, he hopped, first into a crouching position and then back to his battle stance.

Spells still being his only advantage, Vos would retreat into the shadows, luring Sev, and then cast Black and White on him, leaving his enemy in nigh pitch black darkness.

"So you're just gonna run away like a little girl then, are you?"

Sev didn't follow the mage as he retreated, instead remaining where he was and holding his arms out in a gesture that seemed to say "really man? Come on."