[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

Loud! Like a storm! A Hurricane, bearing down on them from on high!

[color=c0392b][i]"GYAH! WHAT THE FUCK?"[/i][/color] he yelped in surprise, rounding the stairs only to fairly [i]dive[/i] back for cover as the [i]second[/i] firespitting dragon in the building made its presence known from on high. The lead-up had been a surge as their unit broke through the enemy lines with little effort after his gravity materia had gotten the ball rolling, so to speak. It had bought time for Robin to spring ahead, utilizing the same walls he'd written off for support, and clear the pair that had dropped to reinforce the line he and Eve had dealt with, flash of light leaving them defenseless against the flash of steel.

In short order, he and Arton had naturally fallen into lockstep, a surprisingly snug fit given the state of affairs— for all that had happened in this hellish place, Rudolf couldn't deny it was a hearteningly [i]familiar[/i] thing, hearing the understood camraderie between fighting men. In a way, it felt like he was fighting alongside his brother, all broad back, solid shield, and complete faith in both the sword at his side as well as the one in his grip. The big man was a sturdy wall, contained and poised to ward off strikes even as his blade bit deep into the stragglers of those Robin had stunned. Rudolf, with his stolen katana, was poised perfectly to finish them off.

And then they had gotten up here, and [i]this happened.[/i] He grit his teeth from behind the safety of his obscured position, forced further down, below the threshold of the staircase. The bastard's shield looked like it was pulling double duty, both protecting most of his frame from incoming projectiles as well as, concerningly, flashing with arcane runes the moment he peeked his head out and tried to do a second cheeky doubling of weight— the thought being "make it that much harder for the guy to pivot the thing".

[color=c0392b]"No dice on materia..."[/color]

His mind raced. He'd seen Izayoi was further up, but if she was the only thing the gunner had to go after, the bullets would chew through that pillar quick. He seemed confident he had enough to do the job...

They had to cut his ability to focus fire somehow, then disable the thing. He couldn't just charge in— the floor below had already seen twelve barrels be enough to dissuade the thought. Even behind the sword, he couldn't count on it. Behind Arton's shield was out of the question. Robin couldn't blind him if the materia were inert. Eve's fire would be rising fast from below.

Hell. This was bad. They were funneled, and they couldn't wait for fear of the cut-off advance from below suddenly proving a cut-off escape. They'd get smoked out, and then they really would all be "punctured"...

Corpses.

[i]!![/i]

He ripped off the cloak that had obscured much of his gear and frame from their travels. Maybe if he had heavier armor, he wouldn't have to resort to such grisly measures, but he could only play the hands he was dealt.

[color=c0392b]"I think I can pull his fire away for a sec,"[/color] he relayed to those nearby, voice tight, hands shaking as they tied the faded red cloth around recently-stilled shoulders, one of the goons from below. [color=c0392b]"Waste a burst at least. He got a glimpse of me, if he thinks this is me again, I can buy us a second to knock that thing out!"[/color]

Tight enough, and wrapped to obscure. He quickly rammed the knife on the thug's belt through his limp hand— a blurring gleam, to look like a weapon drawn, sell it that much more. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the awkward weight of the cadaver like an ad hoc shot put, judged what he remembered of distances, and breathed a prayer to Himstus, to guide this spur of the moment gambit home to victory.

A moment to react, a moment to shred the decoy, a moment to be confused... if this went well, that ought to have been ample time and ample distraction for Team Kirin to pull something off.

Not a moment later, a red-coated, vaguely man-shaped blur launched up from the staircase with the sound of a heavy boot driving [i]hard[/i] into the wood from below, on a high arc outside the edge of the stream of firepower.