[h2]Maceroy Falthon[/h2]
From his position above the battlefield, Maceroy felt the slight shockwave from a weak energy weapon, glancing down and slowing slightly to espy a warp cannon shot a substantial distance below him, dissipating just a short distance on from there. So, the Harvester had arrived. And where was he right... now... ah. The moving tree was a bit conspicuous, honestly, but as the harpy considered it, perhaps not so foolish as one might imagine: it didn't matter as long as it was just Maceroy and HR-513, and if he stayed still whilst enemies were around, they might never realise he was there to begin with. Who'd think to attack a tree, after all? At least, who'd think to attack it until it hit them with a burst of warp energy strong enough to tear their body in half. A slight chuckle escaped the harpy as he continued to glide forward, the morbid thought as amusing as how easily the titanic machine could put it to use.

...he'd wondered about developing his own energy weapons beforehand, he briefly recalled. The thought had been dismissed, under the assumption that HR-513 would back Maceroy up regardless, but say there was a situation where he couldn't rely on the otherwise-reliable machine? Really, it would be sitting on his laurels to pretend the possibility wasn't there, but he'd put so much effort into so many other projects to date, that the idea of going for something so basic when variants already existed had seemed nearly insulting. In hindsight, more insulting would be a sucking hole in his chest... well, questions for later. If anything, he supposed he ought to ask the Harvester for an energy sample if he was going to try something like that. He'd speculated for some time about equipment much like the Harvester's warp cannons, drawing from that same source of power to devastating effect, and it wasn't like he'd run out any time soon, after all, politeness be damned.

Speaking of which, the battlefield, ground and sky, was starting to look a little less inviting, a storm beginning to form over the central basilica. Several kilometers off, some form of aerial battle was raging at full power between angel and demon, and it was immediately obvious how out of his depth Maceroy would be in such a fight - the much-maligned Prince of Greed's portals were easily recognisable, even from here, and those flaming lances weren't exactly inviting either whoever was creating them. More intriguing was the hail of energy shots coming from... elsewhere. Not the Machina's weaponry, either, since he'd yet to see hide or hair of any significant fighters other than himself and HR-513, and he'd assume they would all enter from the same side of the field as himself. What a bother that was. And when the entire goal was to drive out the other factions, troop support was desperately important.

On the other hand, the ability to take out those same troops from on high... well, that simply supported the same end goal in a more direct fashion. An effort to cut off the head of one's armies by assassinating their commanders, rather than by beating the body to a pulp. And was that a flash of red he'd just seen leaping into a far-off watchtower on a trail of smoke? Considering his options, he drew out and pressed the alert button, and not a second later, a miniature facsimile of HR-513 appeared just above it, accurate down to the most minute detail. As accurate, one could say, as the machine's memory banks.

'HR-513,' Maceroy murmured quietly, 'I don't believe I'm wrong, but just so I can confirm: did you see somebody red leaping into the watchtower just yonder?'

[color=orange]'Yes,'[/color] he responded, matter-of-fact as always. [color=orange]'A cursory scan of captured images suggests humanoid, dressed in red rather than possessing red skin, likely possessing artificial or supernatural means of rocket propulsion. Other details aren't clear from this distance.'[/color]

'That'll do nicely, HR-513. Thank you, you're grand,' Maceroy responded, smiling slightly. Had he been concerned about his reliability before? Why? 'If you wouldn't mind keeping an eye out for me, I think it's fair enough that I pay them a visit. I'm sure you'll realise if anything serious starts happening.' With all said, the mini-Harvester vanished into the ether, and the device was returned to Maceroy's pocket, before he upped his flight speed, first taking a huge aerial step upward to evade notice before continuing to fly toward the tower. Whilst he kept an eye out for any stray shots being taken in his direction, nobody seemed to be looking for him, and in just a minute or two, he reached his destination, hovering as quietly as possible a hundred and fifty meters or so above the watchtower's balcony. And lo, the red spot from before now rendered itself as the proposed humanoid figure, possibly feminine, with what seemed to be a sniper rifle... possibly Machina, then? But he wasn't exactly foolish enough to ask first. It'd become obvious as they fought, and if they were, they'd both likely see sense enough to cease their battle and be on their way.

So, on to phase 1 of the attack plan: surprise them. Aiming his weapon downward with both hands and folding his wings around himself, Maceroy dropped toward the red-clad sniper like a relatively silent stone, trusting in gravity's inevitable pull to drag him down and his own hyper-fast thoughts to keep him aware of the distance, running the equation v[sub]i[/sub]=√(2gd) through his head at the same time to calculate impact velocity. With any luck, she- yes, that was a feminine figure after all- would be too focused on whatever was in her sights to notice the relatively minimal sound of him falling toward her, faster and faster - at least until he activated his drill roughly ten meters above her to give it the time it needed to spin up suitably, and by then he'd be falling at a rate of 52.41 meters per second, much faster as he flapped his wings once for a sudden speed burst, and those last ten meters would take less than two-tenths of a second to traverse anyway. Still not as fast as he'd like, but more than enough to skewer most beings through their torso and into- or through, given how old it was- the rock beneath, with his own enhanced physiology keeping his body from shattering too, not to mention crushing some other part of her flat under his weight at that sort of speed. Even if she somehow dodged out of the way pre-emptively and took aim, his wings were like a shield of steel - that is, probably not enough to perfectly block rounds from a sniper rifle, but more than sufficient to keep him from taking mortal harm whilst he got away from any potential fall hazards to begin the battle proper, and able to guard from every angle as necessary.

[@Spiffy][@Lmpkio]