[IC] Decibitus

[BayRat]

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~1446 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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The necromancer stood by as he watched the aloof reaper fall on his back in a way-too-neat fashion. Was that out of practice or was that the instinct of those model types? Like how a cat is always supposed to land on their feet.

Nonetheless, monkeys? Seemed there was still more creatures to dispatch of before the day was over.

Retrieving another written spell tag from his person, he began to chant an unnecessary but dramatic incantation. Both of his skeletons moved to accompany him at either side as he spoke.

“I weave the marks of death, strike true a terrible curse with their blades.”

He’d tear the tag twice to make three torn tickets, each burned up with arcane fire. The embers of which moved into three direction, to a hand of each skeleton and to the necromancer’s own spare hand. Spectral swords formed from each gathering ghastly ember, necrotic magic running up through their spectral form.

He’d do a small flourish with the sword as both skeletons began to move forward and spread out, though he didn’t let them go too far without first getting a direction.

“Just give us the directions and you can rest your pretty head here.” Edward sneered.

[OwO]

Lucian

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~1446 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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A painful whimper came from Lucian's lips. It was as if he was saying "that way." He raised his finger from his pained stupor.

...

Perhaps he'd be more sympathetic if he didn't look as though he was drawn by Michelangelo illustrating the creation of Adam. Still, Vera's concern was pleasant. It'd been a while since someone last treated him like that. Most people did things like drop mallets on him while he rested. Ed's words were, of course, much less nice.

Still, he pointed out the direction in which the monkeys were carrying Celeste. Even if it were just for a moment. Even if they had made a single turn and it was no longer accurate.

[ERode]

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~1450 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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It had been twenty minutes since they had entered the venue.

It had been eight minutes since Celeste had been led away by a squad of skeletal monkeys.

For a human being, eight minutes was more than enough time to vacate the premises, and the guests of the fashion venue had vacated even earlier than that. With Lucian hoisted over Vera’s shoulder (Reapers were strong, but a princess carry was out of the question when she needed her sword arm free) and Edward’s floating swords leading the way, the trio of corporate employees charged straight down the direction that the model had pointed…and immediately hit a fork in the road.

It was a building, after all. Corridors intersected with one another. And while they could exhaustively search through every room and corner of the multi-story venue, there were two other ways of looking about: up on the roof, or down on the ground.

From the roof, they could search the crowds from above, in hopes of spotting a pink head amidst other, non-pink heads. A strategy may have to be formed with regards to how to quickly get off the roof, of course, but falling to one’s death wasn’t much of an issue when one could turn intangible and fly.

From the ground, they could travel down the wide streets more easily, giving them an expanded search radius. Though it would be difficult to find a specific person just by looking, in exchange, they would have the ability to actually ask the civilians where Celeste was. And who knows! Maybe one of them would even have her phone number!

Not, of course, that the Reapers did.

[BayRat]

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~1460 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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Edward had an audible exhale as he exited the Gala. The streets were no easy place to search. Scouring the damn city was ill-suited gruntwork. Naturally, such a task was suited for his minions.

With both his skeletons behind him, he turned to Vera.

"I can have these two cover two directions for some distance though I'll need to be in the air to keep good command over both."

"Do it, I will question the civilians. With this one to help, I will be slower", Vera said, shifting Lucian so his arm wrapped over her shoulder and she could support most of his weight.

Edward gave a nod before he began his ascent into the sky. With a gesture of either arm, he sent one Skeleton north and the other south; "Search for the cursed woman with pink hair." taking advantage of the view to see if he could spot that pink haired woman from his sight alone.

Stagering down the street, Vera popped into existance, searching for a mortal that seemed to have some idea of what was going on. The first human she questioned offered nothing of value, save a useless comment that Lucian seemed like he was hurt.

Vera struck gold, as Amelia often loudly shouted, during her next attempt at reconaissance,interrogating another noncombatant leaving her with vital clues.

"Celeste? Oui, I saw her," the portly man dressed in what Vera could only conclude was a truly alarming amount of spandex that bordered on life threatening.

"Rouchefort was leading her away from the fleeing crowd through the other corridor. You know, Rouchefort, no?" the man added, leaving Vera to contemplate his accent, it was rich and attractive, French she knew.

[color=#63B8FF] "Thank you!" [/color ]Vera shouted, turning to head back the other way, tossing Lucian over her shoulder in a firemen's carry she began to jog back towards the corridor indicated by the stout civilian.

Edward remained vigilant above as his skeletons moved through the crowd. Turns out pink hair was a more common phenomena then he thought, Celeste no where among them. Frustrated, the necromancer hoped Vera had more luck.

"Siggy," Vera hissed, touching the sticker that the dimuniative dicator had stuck to her. "I need you to pass on a message to the braggart wizard. Rouchefort is leading Celeste away from the crowd. Down the other corridor. I am heading there!"

[ERode]

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~1505 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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"Gotcha!"

As Edward's skeletons filed back to his position, Siggy's voice echoed in his head, giving the necromancer all he needed.

"Emery's like, totes leading Celeste away from the crowd. Vera said 'Down the other corridor' and is like, zipping over there now! Get to it, Skelly!"

And with that, the necromancer had to move. Invisible and intangible, Edward phased through the crowd, skeletons following suit, as he made a beeline back into the building. But as he did, he could see it too, looming behind him like clouds. The departed souls of Paris, converging.

As if drawn by the hubbub below.

As if drawn by Celeste.

...

Empty corridors with flickering lights, empty venues that now catered to no one. Vera could feel a discomforting softness over her shoulders where Lucian's ribs would normally have held firm, but he was a Reaper. Even this was not enough to be fatal for him, and for her, the supermodel's mass wasn't enough to slow down her sprint towards the other end. She passed by a map, the structure of the building simple enough to understand that the path she was on lead not to an emergency exit but rather to a parking lot.

Reapers were fast, but without magic, they could not catch up to a car.

And when Vera and Lucian arrived in the underground parking lot, Edward and his skeletons hot on their heels, they saw Celeste already half-way inside a Toyota Yaris, a gaggle of skeletal monkeys urging, but not forcing her in. No, the one that was forcing her in was a petite woman, Japanese at a glance. Their argument echoed off of stone walls, while a man, his auburn hair tousled from stress rather than style, sat at the driver's seat, tip-tapping the wheel nervously.

"Megumi, listen! This was the first time I saw ones who actually helped me!" Celeste said. "They have to be agents of the Holy Maiden, like I've told you before!"

The older woman pinched the bridge of her nose. Her hands were gloved. "But they destroyed Emery's dragon. And that electrical problem. You told me they did that too."

"Well, they did, but there was a bigger monster as well! And one of them's Lucian."

"Doesn't s-" She cut herself off. Disparaging the dead was unacceptable, no matter what the situation was. "Celeste, if they're here to help you, they can find you again. For now though, you know how it usually goes, right? It starts with something small, and then becomes something bigger. We need to go."

The monkeys tugged at the hems of her dress as well.

Celeste's brow furrowed, indecision crossing her features for the briefest of moments, before her eyes lit up again. "Look, they're here!"

Megumi looked and, predictably, saw nothing.

[BayRat]

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~1505 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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Finally. It was somewhat embarrassing that his skeletons failed to find any on their own, but so what! He had already tried so hard to be the best reaper present. And clearly he was, surely! Surely his talents would be appraised of once this infernal job was all said and done.

"Roger that, I'm right on it." He and his pair of minions were right on the trail, Edward flying fast with his skeletons marching as quickly as they could after their master. Honestly, this was too much trouble. They already saved the Gala, maybe they were just being overly concerned. That was until he saw the growing manifestation behind him. Good lord, she really is a cursed magnet. He had caught up with Vera by the time they drew near to the parking lot.

Sure enough, he eventually found Celeste who seemed to be part way dragged into the vehicle. It looked like it was against their will, but he hadn't heard much of the conversation beyond Celeste's excitement.

Wait, she could see him? Edward's froze up in shock at that. His skeletons, almost-cartoonishly, skid to a stop with one bumping into another.

No it must have been a mistake, he must have forgot to turn his invisibility off. Or, was it? Shit, he wasn't sure. But she sounded, happy to see him? Why? That had to be a mistake as well. He was a flying ghost wizard. Then again, if she could see them well, he was pretty cool at the Gala. Maybe she's a fan now? Or maybe she meant Vera? Was she visible?

Shit. Well, that's not important. There was some growing disaster behind them and there wasn't any time to ask questions or be flustered about it.

Edward made sure he made himself corporeal so he could at least be 100% certain he was heard, despite his previous reluctance. His introverted, cloistered nature was drowned out by all this frustration and confusion.

"Get the hell out of the city!" There was no dramatic pretense to his speech. Just, drive away from any and all populated areas please. Even if it follows her, it would be easier to deal with whatever the hell is next without worrying about casualties. He remained visible to the public, hovering as he readied his staff with one hand and ghostly blade in the other, the two skeletons moving away from the street, but standing ahead closer to the growing threat and waited for orders.

[Abstract Proxy]

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~1506 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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Things were going FUBAR rapidly, Vera considered. Civilians everywhere. More dead appearing by the minute. There was no air strike to call in. There was no 'special purpose' unit waiting in the wings.

It was her and the loudmouthed necromancer and a barely conscious Lucian. Not great, but not terrible.

Edward was right, she considered, collateral damage would be greater if they had to fight in the city. Better to reset. Better to shift position. The thought of chasing down the car was less appealing. They could hitch a ride, no?

"Wait!" She shouted, following Edward's lead and fading into corporal existence. "We are not your enemy. Let us go with you, we will keep you safe. You will not be able ot handle these gathering dead by yourself."

Many reapers could be stuffed inside of a small car, Vera reasoned, what did the undying care about cramped spaces. A job was a job. All that mattered was the mission. And she doubted Lucian could move much further under his own power. It was time to regroup.

[PapiTan]

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~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI

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Amelia took a long moment to consider her situation. The people were enthused, which was good! Eliot was very unenthused, which was bad. In fact, she was beginning to suspect he might be quite upset with her. At least Aron had played into her scheme masterfully, clearly sharper than she'd given him credit for. Good, and refreshing, to have a partner on her same wavelength.

"...worry not, dear Eliot! I can explain." She grinned widely, hopping off the table and patting the poll box with a nod to her fellow reapers. "You see, the rail is not running, and so the newcomers are walking. We discovered this on our way to find Miss Death, who confirmed it to us, because we are your most resourceful team."

"And as I was saying, our dearest MD wishes to speak with the Necromancer, for he might have the knowledge to end this rail crisis ahead of time." Amelia shrugged. "She asked us to see if other reapers might agree, and so, democracy is the obvious solution. Though, for the record, I think we should refuse and take the FUN OPTION!"

Her voice raised, as to be heard at the end of that sentence. Reverse psychology required commitment. At least she knew the other two would know what she was doing.

"No. N-no! I am not involved in this!"

Aron hurried to his desk as soon as Amelie's shoes left them, assessing the damage and brushing off crusted mud from the deep creases of his documents. He looked to Eliot pleadingly.

"The boss just needs to meet the Necromancer to discuss the situation. I don't... I don't know what this is!" He flapped a wild gesture towards Amelie.

"Democracy is at its best when implemented suddenly, with passion." Amelia looked to Eliot, not even approaching apologetic. "She wanted our opinions: it's an urgent matter, and this was the fastest method."

There were a number of thoughts that Elliot had in that moment. It was hard to choose which thread to follow, so he chose to sigh instead. Mochi, on the other hand, took to pawing at the shoes of the reapers before him for entertainment while his assistant was busy with such a choice.

"Right. Can you... go back a few steps here?" So they'd found Miss Death... which was good. They hadn't brought her back, but that was another problem entirely. "Miss Death thinks the Necromancer will--you know what? I'll work my way up to that one. People are deciding to walk the rail? Who... How did you find that out? Are there more people trying to do this?"

"I dunno, it's what the kid at Uchi's place said. Hu...go...?" Aron crossed his arms, trying to scuttle away from Mochi. Argh, he still had those cookies in his pocket too. Now was not the time!

"I named him Hugo. It was a good name for him." Amelia nodded, before crouching down to pick up Mochi in both, very seriously addressing the dog as she held him up, "but yes. The strange blond child mentioned it, before he let us in to Uchi's shop. I would have found his real name, but there was free food. You understand, no, Mister Mayor?"

The mayor in question gave a 'wuff' and wagged his tail with gusto, his nose wriggling as he sniffed the air--no doubt trying to find the source of a particularly tantalizing scent.

His assistant, on the other hand, looked entirely like he might like to defenestrate himself.

"I... will have to ask Uchi about this er... 'Hugo' later, then. Nobody's tried walking the rail since Miss Death as far as I know. I can't imagine they'll be successful." He really, really wished that he could put off the next topic by about a thousand years, if possible. Eliot took a moment to carefully piece his next question together. "And... regarding the Necromancer. Does Miss Death really want to talk to him?"

There was a note of desperation not often found in the man's voice, one that carried all his dread at the answer he was entirely expecting.

Aron simply scratched the back of his head. His mouth twisted into a grimace instead of offering an answer.

"If they do speak, can I watch? I'll be quiet."

If one were perceptive, they might have seen the corner of Eliot's lips twitch. If one wasn't perceptive, they probably still would have seen the moment where a chill crawled down his spine, taking much of the color from his face with it.

He didn't want to admit it, but Miss Death might have been on the right path.

"Absolutely not." He really, really didn't want to admit it. "I mean, I--that's... maybe? This isn't--I mean, at least she wouldn't be alone?"

It wasn't like anyone could stop the woman if she really wanted to go. Whether he meant Amelia or Miss Death was hard to determine.

"Huh." Aron blinked. "Is that... kind of a 'yes'?"

The look on Eliot's face could only be described as a strained grimace.

"Frankly, I don't have the authority to stop Miss Death if she wants to do something. Or the power." The brunette tried very, very hard to ignore the fact that Mochi probably did have the authority he needed. "She's just being considerate in not doing it without asking."

Amelia looked far too happy about all of this, lifting Mochi a little higher in celebration before returning him to the floor. "And I can go too? This is why you're my second-favourite boss, Eliot! Can I bring Mochi?"

"No. Mochi's not going anywhere near the Depths," Eliot said while protectively nudging the corgi behind him with his leg at the thought. "And if--that's a major if--she ends up going, it will be with a full team of reapers on standby."

He frowned as a thought occurred to him.

"You know, after Uchi inevitably guts everyone involved like a fish for letting it happen first."

"Eh, we'll get better." Amelia shrugged off the possibility with remarkable ease, "so, are we still doing democracy? I have a very good speech lined up."

Aron looked to Eliot. "Please say no."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but his answer was drowned out by the sudden and thunderous sound of someone slamming into the doorframe, blonde hair flung fecklessly in the wake of the collision. The impact didn't so much as phase Sigrun--rather, the doorframe looked to have taken more damage than the girl herself.

"Bad news in Paris! Like, totes bad!" Sigrun pointed at the two reapers in the room. "You two! Arch! Now! Take stickers!"

She raised a hand to quiet Eliot's immediate objection.

"Ban doesn't matter right now, they need more reapers like, ten minutes ago!"

The grin that immediately spread across Amelia's face was borderline maniacal as she grabbed a sticker, "Siggy, if I had money, I would owe you a lot of drinks, but Eliot will have to cover it."

With a whoop of excitement that doubtless quelled everyone's fears, Amelia set off towards the Arch at a breakneck pace.

"Umm. Ahh." Aron's head whipped between Eliot and the after image of Amelia. "Thanks, Siggy, cute stickers, bye!"

He raced after the other reaper, though not before remembering to hurriedly toss the sleeve of cookies at Mochi's feet.

This day couldn't get any more frantic.

[ERode]

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~1510 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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A storm thundered, one unseen and unheard by the troubled populace below. Their emotions, fraught with confusion and fear, condensed upon itself, as the vestigial blood of the Holy Maiden continued its unending allure. And ghosts, fettered by regrets, egos decayed by death, drew themselves to the commotion and budding chaos.

Paris, the City of Flowers, was a peaceful city by the metrics of big cities like this.

And thus, the pull of an emergency such as this, magnified by the supernatural trait of a specific individuals, made it all the more enticing. Birds of a feather flocked together. Regrets that chained one to the Earthly plane came not from a peaceful death, a fulfilling life. The dead swirled above the crowds, a thundercloud in and of itself.

Through human emotion, twisting.

Through human presumptions, contorting.

Burst out of their phantasmal shells, spectral facades peeling away to reveal philofantastic reconstructions of ego. Cannibalizing each other, consuming eroded desires. A jar of poisonous insects, rattling open its seal, the sheer pressure of this anomalous chimera affecting the minds of the mortals down below. Inspiring darker emotions still, neighbouring buildings rumbling, cracking, at the genesis of this wisp.

A negative feedback loop, spiralling downwards beyond the realm of the dead, to touch at…

H̵̱̓O̵̜͌́L̸̮̀Ÿ̵͉̘́͘ Ḧ̸͉̳̞̖́̅́͛Ǫ̵̣̼̞̞̪͛͒L̷̝̻͍̀́̒̈͂̊͒̿Ỵ̵̈́͂̿̈͊̑̚͝H̴̼͙͑O̶̡̧̡̥͓͛̈́̑̀̍̚͘͝ͅĹ̶̻̪͍̝̫͉̔͊͐̓̌̑͂͝͠͝Ẏ̶̢̱͔̇͆̒̅͐̈́̄͑͂̾̌̚͝Ḩ̴̨̛̗̠̺̣̠̞͇̈͌̽́̾͛͗̿͑͂̌̒͘͝͝O̷͈̣̽̒̾Ļ̴̘͙̣͓̳̻͇̣̣̗͊͊͌̋͛̓̈͗̔̎̓̈́̌͆́̎̈́͘͝Ẏ̸͖̩̹̲̭͕̩͙͍̺͙͔̝̟̮͎̟͐̋̓͋̐͑͒̿̑͆̿͝͠ͅḤ̵͉̲̫̱͚͈̠̫̳̤̱͈͘ͅͅO̴̡͙̺͔̥̮̠̩̲̹̹̘͖̅͐͐͛̐̍̆͐̍́̓͊͛͌̀̓̚̕Ḽ̶͖͚͇̙͇̖̬͕͖̊̀̈̇̈́̉͊̀̃̈͆̇͛́̐̀͒̌̍̚͜͝Ŷ̶̧̢̡̡̛̼̰̙͓̝̘̤͙͍̫̣͙͈̤̲̯̮̦̌̉͑͛͑͋́̆̈́̀͂̃̐̈́̍͘̕͘͜͝͝ͅH̴̙̥̯̲̜͔̭̼̖̋͗͊́͒̇͜͝O̵̢̧̖͕̤̖̩̜͔̜̩̲̥̤̖̥̲̘͍̬̓͑̄̉̃̎́̿̃͌͌̀̅̆̈́͘͜͠͝͝͝Ĺ̵̛͙̞̪̐̅̂̽̆̅̿͋̐̓̏̽́̀́̉͐̍͗̃̓̏̕͜͠͠Ẏ̸̹̖͉͂̒̇̾͆̈̇̑́̈́̀̇̿̆̿͠

It seized Ed by the throat, silencing him with such totality that the necromancer could hardly breathe. The fluctuations of spiritual activity that he detected previously had spiked, reaching levels that he had never before bore witness to. Like a stone cratering through his stomach, like a black hole spinning through the Earth’s core.

Celeste froze too, cold sweat breaking out from an unplaced terror that she couldn’t identify, but it was the threat of the two, no, three invisible weirdos that set the monkeys off instead. Regardless of what they shouted, the mere fact that they shouted presented the sort of aggressive energy that the skeletal monkeys were trained to defend against. Leaping atop each other’s shoulders, they towered over Vera and Edward, hooting silently as they flexed their non-existent muscles in a show of dominance.

The woman, Megumi, frowned. At the half-conscious man over Vera’s shoulder, at the wildly inappropriate garb of the weirdo who called skeletons to his aid, at the whole ass sword that Vera held in her hand.

On reflection though, Emery also dabbled in making animated skeletons, and…

“I think we should leave,” Celeste whispered, already clipping her seatbelt in.

That was all Megumi needed to make her decision.

“Emery, go!” She snapped her fingers…or at least the best approximation of such an action when one wore gloves. “Sword lady, in the back with Celeste, Skeleton kid, shotgun.”

“Um,” the man behind the wheel squeaked, “Monkeys, please!”

With a direct order from their father, the trio of monkeys disengaged, leaping up off each other’s shoulders before clinging onto the top of the Yaris. There were only five seats, and between Emery, Celeste, Lucian, Vera, and Edward, there was no room for Megumi.

But that was fine.

The engine rumbled, wheels burning rubber before shooting out the parking lot.

Thirty seconds later, a second, louder engine echoed that refrain.

...

At the mouth of the underground parking lot, Aron and Amelia manifested, their gaze immediately drawn to the storm brewing in the distance. A storm spiritual, a storm monstrous, a storm that was an egg, gestating an anomaly manifested from siren cries and human paranoia, woven together by the unnatural constitution of a single woman.

Then, their gaze was secondarily drawn to a bright red minicar shooting up and out of the parking lot, running straight towards them! Then, straight through them, the faces of their co-workers flying right past them both in the half-second of 'contact'!

Now, what the hell was that?

Ten seconds later, an equally monstrous Honda Rebel 1100T DCT ripped out of the lot, letting out a scream akin to a banshee!

One could only hope that the reapers could catch this ride.

Because if not?

It'd be a good while before either of them managed to sign up for a ride-sharing app and got a vehicle of their own.

[Lasrever]

Amelia Dupont

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~1510 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

---

Ah, Paris. Wonderful, beautiful, Paris. How she had missed France, in these past months. Amelia knew, of course, that such a storm as the one she spied on the edge of her vision would no doubt be the subject of their mission, painfully far off as it was. But if she could take in the place for a moment... ah, what a shame that she had a job to do. She wondered if the family home was still around. There was a chance they had torn the place down, after everything, but it would be nice to see how things had all panned out. Swept under the rug, most likely.

Perhaps if they dealt with this quickly enough-- shit, car!

Wait, weren't those reapers? It seemed likely that that was the way they should go, then.

And also that their cover was mostly-blown, because that was not one of them driving. The lack of required subtlety, relatively speaking, suited her fine.

It was a good thing that they weren't yet tangible, though. She would have been quite embarrassed to be immediately run over, in her own city. It seemed worse, somehow, to die so mundanely in a city with which she was so intimately familiar, though she couldn't say why. It was no harder to be run over in Paris than anywhere else. She glanced over as Aron appeared with her, but didn't take the time to crow about the joy of her return. After all, they needed to follow.

If they let her back into the city and she didn't get to fight anything, it would be a tragedy. Things had been so painfully mundane, lately. Not once had she managed to fly close to the sun, and the absence felt as though it itched underneath her skin. So permanent, so solid, so boring it had been.

The next car, then, was a welcome blessing, and she didn't think to consult Aron before becoming tangible, and taking the most immediate measure to draw attention, pulling the gun from her hip and shooting into the sky as she stood in the road in front of their fellow reapers' tailing vehicle.

"OI!" A good opener, as she waved the driver down. "Give us a lift! We're with those others!"

She was asking, because it was good to have allies. That she was also forming a plan to steal the car was currently immaterial, and would hopefully stay that way. Perhaps Aron would have a better way to ensure their journey: her magic was not suited for this without preparation or destroying the car, and it was (as had been extensively emphasised to her) frowned upon to use violent crime as one's first port-of-call in problem solving. Second, maybe, would be explicable. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

[banjoanjo]

Aron Carvajal

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~1510 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

---

France, huh. It wasn't really on his travel list back when he was alive but he'd heard it was a pretty romantic place. Not in that kind of way, more in the way that would make one of his supervisors go off the grid for a year to paint fields and pansies or whatever Frenchy flowers they had in the countryside as he sipped wine and left his department putting out flames for another three months.

...Yeah, this place probably wasn't going on the list any time soon.

The romance was particularly lacking in the place they landed - one side the mouth of a typical parking lot, the other a storm that seemed summoned from Hell itself. Except he knew that Hell wasn't a thing. Maybe. He didn't have time to have that philosophical crisis, what with his coworkers' faces tearing past him in a flash, accompanied by... huh, was that Miss Death?

"Y-you saw her too, right?"

Instead of an answer, he received a ringing in his ears as Amelia shot overhead and hollered at a motorbike that was speeding their way.

Ah, that was right. Hell is other people.

She was tangible, for some reason. And that motorbike... was it slowing down? Did he have the time to check if it was slowing down? Panic snapped in and a machine gun fire of his Scale spell began spewing from his mouth repeatedly. He trusted the potency of his spell and knew it would slow the bike down to some extent but oh god, what if it wasn't enough? What if they both got ragdolled off the mortal coil and had to return with no results? That sounded like a pay cut waiting to happen.

He couldn't have them both getting wiped out before they even got to whatever mission they had. That motorbike had to stop. He felt his body moved on his own, the frigid Parisian wind tearing across his bare arms as he turned tangible. He ran towards the bike and leapt. Some part of him thought it'd be a javelin-like motion, dropkicking the rider off the slowed bike as they raced towards Amelia. He knew what it was supposed to look like, had keyed it before even. What occurred though was more of an ass-forward mid-air cannonball that would soon collide with the hapless rider.