[center][color=turquoise][h2]Nyx[/h2][/color][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/zFEcFuj.png[/img][/center]
	His message to the others was never answered. [color=turquoise]"Odd... wait, what's going on?"[/color]  The screens in his mask started lighting up, every single one of them showing various angles of two individuals fighting, as if it meant more than a handful of EXP.  [color=turquoise]"Is that..?  No, it can't be..."[/color]  He paused, finally being granted a clear view of the face of one of the combatants.  None other than Corpse Collector herself.  In less than an instant, he took off down the street, jumping into the nearest vehicle and tearing off towards the Black City, making sure to paint the car's hood with a few stray Outlaws that were wandering the streets.

	He arrived within minutes, and saw a grand display before him.  Eclipse Princess herself, staring down a horde of Outlaws assaulting the Black City's gates.  He was no Stryker, but something like this demanded action.  With a deft few movements, Nyx was making his way through the bloodied battlefield, invisible as ever.  Like the ghost he was, he approached Princess just as Vendetta ended, giving a knowing nod and pulling a handgun from inside his coat.  [color=turquoise]"It seems we fight together again."[/color]  The Assassin stopped just behind the Berserker, performing a heel turn and holding the firearm across his chest and against his heart.

	[color=turquoise]"Can you savages kill what doesn't bleed!?  Find out for yourselves!"[/color]  He was ready for whatever came, stealth out the window.

	Behind the scenes, Aaron's mind was overclocking.  For the first time, he was fighting for a real cause, and doing it in the open.  It wasn't the Harleys, nor the Strykers, nor Deep Ground itself.  Today, he initiated respawns to help a friend.  He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt as if himself and Nyx were truly connected for the first time.  When this persona was created, the Assassin was everything the boy wanted to be.  Powerful, collected, and feared... not a weak, paranoid, gremlin.

	Now, the American transplanted into a foreign country felt like he had the reigns on life for the first time.  It was time to make it known.

	[@Caits][@KoL]