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The Wealth of Nations

Location: Midgar Sector 06, the City of Glass
Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Zenkichi’s @Multi_Media_Man, Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Sandalphon
Word Count: 10,376 (+11)


”Ah, gentlemen.” Karin tsked, walking into the room ahead of Zenkichi and Blazermate, hips swaying. ”The winds of fortune are changing. The meddler before you is Karin Kanzuki.” She bowed confidently. As she saw the size of one of the enemies, she focused on the shape of her ki and changed into a V-ISM combat style.

Roquefort glanced her way, curious, but if her words even reached Khamsin he ignored them. Instead his mech rushed at the giant wolf in a burst of speed, power building in his axe’s thrusters for a rocket-assisted cleave. Roquefort dropped down onto all fours and sprang backward using his arms. Khamsin’s axe missed by a mile, and as he struggled to halt his weapon’s momentum, Roquefort took the chance while crouching to thrash his tail to the left, then to the right, then spin around to send two blue energy tornados whirling toward his foe.

”If you both would be so kind as to cease this frankly ridiculous toy comparison contest and refrain from participating in the failure of statecraft that is warfare, I would be ever so grateful.” She said, and going by the smirk on her face, she was expecting them to continue to rip everything in this building apart.

"Well that’s not what I expected." Zenkichi admitted, frowning as the two giant cyborgs started duking it out. ”So, who are we helping out here? I feel like neither of these guys is exactly…respectable in any way, frankly.”

”I don’t know. Khamsin is a bit of a wild card, but he loves the common person. And I don’t know the other guy, he's nobody to me right now.” Blazermate said, flying into the room last as she had been making sure she

At that, Roquefort’s ears pricked up. “Not respectable!?” he barked, an expression of disbelief on his metallic, lupine face. He managed to contain his surprise long enough to leap over a shockwave Khamsin sent his way and come down on the mech with a double claw slash that doubled him over. As his tornados beat against the mech, locking Khamsin down, he bared his teeth at Zenkichi and Karin. “I’ll have you know I worked my bloody arse off to get this far! From death’s door to the top of the world, best in the business! If that’s not respectable…” When the tornados petered out and Khamsin began to rise, Roquefort hooked his massive claws beneath the mech’s undercarriage and heaved. “I don’t know what is!” With surprising strength he threw Khamsin into the air. Naturally the metal titan didn’t get much air time, but when he hit the ground he slid across the polished floor toward the Seekers, Khamsin yelling the whole time. As soon as possible he began to right his mech, which involved firing all thrusters in an almost breakdance-like spin to pick himself up, and right in the newcomers’ vicinity to boot.

”Yeah, I mean as a human being. Morally. Not as some heartless corporate cog.” Zenkichi rebutted, calling back after leaping out of the way of Khamsin's wildly flailing arms. ”Hey, be more careful where you swing those! You’ll bring this whole damn room down on top of us, you lunatic!” He chastised Khamsin, shaking his head. ”I know keeping your cool was never your strong suit, but gimme a break…”

“Buzz off, pipsqueaks!” the soldier roared.

Karin watched him spin from a safe distance, and as soon was he was done, she rushed in to punish the recovery, treating it like one of Sakura’s reversal uppercuts. She dashed forward and looked to drive her palms into the metal machine. ”Eeyah!” She was trying to gauge its durability. Bong! Karin might be strong, but this armor was designed to withstand tank shells. It would be easier to demolish a building by hand if she went at it this way.

Karin blinked in surprise. ”No, impossible!” She said, denying the thought outright. She began scanning the ugly mech for weakpoints. His big exposed human face was a good place to start.

Blazermate, being as cautious as she was with a big titanic battle like this, stayed out of the way of Khamsin's attack. ”Well… Make some arguments between you two on who is better. We’re just here to stop the fighting for now as there is a bigger issue around.” Blazermate said. Either way, she was showing her bias for Khamsin as she had healed him before and gave him a smile, well, what accounted for a smile on a robot with only eyes as their eyes for their facial expressions.

”I mean, honestly, I don’t care for either of them.” Zenkichi casually admitted, leaning on his sword as the two fought one another, even as Karin tested the DesporHado mech’s durability, frowning. ”Oh, okay. Uh…guess we’re fighting him, then? Or both? Both works for me.” Zenkichi said, hefting his greatsword and taking a fighting stance. ”But I think Roquefort is probably the bigger threat, what with the not being a rampaging psychopath with an insatiable bloodlust thing.” With that, he ran in towards the Vandelay Financier and started swinging.

”Both, of course!” Karin shouted back, affronted by the notion of anything otherwise.

Roquefort’s monocled eyes had been on Khamsin as he picked his mech up from where the giant wolf flung it, but before the mech could mount another attack, the CFO spotted a different kind of wolf charge his way. When Zenkichi struck him, Roquefort dashed away, his metal lips curled. His agility clearly put Khamsin’s to shame, but by the same token it cast a shadow of doubt on his own durability. “You’d bare your fangs at ME?” he growled. “You’ll pay the price!” He dashed about twenty-five feet at a time, twice in a zigzag pattern before leaping up to come down on Zenkichi in a giant slam. He reared back to let out a howl, then planted one forearm to take a gigantic swipe at the man the next second.

”Damn, he’s strong!” Zenkichi grunted as he barely blocked Roquefort’s slam, his bones nonetheless shaking from the force of the impact, and only half-dodged the follow-up, though he was able to recover from the stumble in time to call out for Valjean to attack, knowing he’d need some heavier firepower to deal with this baddie.



”One-Shot Kill!” Came the cry, as Valjean’s spectral chains rose and lashed out violently at Roquefort. ”Blaze, I think I could use a hand. And I’ve got an idea.”

“Grragh! That’ll cost you!” Roquefort snarled as he reflexively clutched his chest. The armor held against Valjean’s spectral gunshort, but it dealt a grip of damage, and Roquefort clearly wasn’t happy about it. He backed up and hunkered down on all fours, his tail thrashing from side to side.

Blazermate meanwhile had been finding a good spot to summon her engineer spirit who got to work making his nest. While the big mechs played, his sentry could do quite a bit of damage. She then moved over to Zenkichi when she called him, with a plan ready to go.

Her lack of attention paid -and perhaps inherent bias- to Khamsin came back to bite her at just that moment. Annoyed by the sentry’s gunfire, the wannabe Wind of Destruction drove his mech across the room toward Roquefort with a tremendous racket, threatening to sandwich Blazermate and Zenkichi between the two titans as he left Karin behind. Rather than plow through, though, he released one hand’s grip on his axe and snatched Blazermate from behind. “I SAID,” he yelled, slamming her down into the floor. “Quit BUZZING AROUND!” He then fired his lateral thrusters in opposing directions, causing him to spin in place with the medabot pinned between hand and ground. Sparks flew, and a terrible grinding noise filled the air.

The move provoked a sneer from Roquefort at Zenkichi. “You’d best not get between us, small fry!’ He then whipped around to send two energy tornados the detective’s way.

Karin grit her teeth as her opponent escaped her, and was completely outraged as he targeted Blazermate. She yanked herself forward with her grappling hook to break out into a sprint. She flung herself feet first like a torpedo into the side of the mech’s knee, avoiding his spinning attack against Blazermate to slip past. Though the impact with a heavy moving metal object hurt her, the blow destabilized the joint enough to force Khamsin to slow his spin lest he lose control. Then she backflipped off and got right back to her feet, this time targeting his knee. She would stay until she got hit if she had too, she had to start causing enough damage to get him to release Blazermate!

Grunting as Roquefort’s tornados forced him to dodge away from Blazermate, Karin, and Khamsin, Zenkichi shook his head. ”You said not to underestimate you before. How about you take your own advice!” Drawing his revolvers, Zenkichi unloaded them into the robotic werewolf, calling for Valjean to unleash a Megido blast before grabbing his greatsword again and rushing in on the attack. He couldn’t ignore Roquefort, so he’d have to trust Karin to get Blazermate out of harm’s way for now.

“Oof, augh!” With such a big target, Zenkichi’s projectiles and spells were difficult to miss. Roquefort dodged out of the Megido blast as soon as possible.

Blazermate meanwhile, was not having a great time. Khamsin in his attack had managed to not only knock away all of Blazermate’s overheal, but was doing some good damage as her paint got scraped away from all the sparks and grinding on the floor. She had activated her projectiles shield, but she could barely really get a good look at Khamsin with it to do much to him, but the edge of the shield was clipping his arm, hoping that this would help her break free, or she could build uber fast enough to use it before her arm part got disabled. Seeing her get hurt, her companions also did what they could to break her free. Apparently Khamsin wasn’t all that bright, considering now he had lost some potential allies for no reason.

Much to Khamsin’s continued aggravation, Karin just wouldn’t let him grind Blazermate into steel wool in peace. The flurry of blows she dealt to his right leg’s joint, despite how much that must be hurting her in return, threatened his stability enough that any more thrust might bring him down instead. As he slid to a stop, he glanced down at the aristocrat from his cockpit with his jaw clenched and veins popping in anger. “I’ll kill you!” With one arm he raised his massive axe and brought it down pommel-first to try and crush her beneath it. In his mech’s other hand he still held Blazermate tight, increasingly tight in fact as he tried to crumple her torso in its giant red claws.

”You’ll try!” Karin shouted, eyeing his other hand out of the corner of her eye. She had to stop her barrage for a moment to avoid the petty little pommel crush.

Toward the other side of the room, the old dog unveiled a new trick. After circling around Zenkichi with a string of dashed he extended a fist, activating the gauntlet around his wrist. A Rip Line launched from it with a hook the size of an axe head, threatening to skewer his target. In the likely event that it missed, however, it went on to lodge into the wall behind Zenkichi, and Roquefort proceeded to pull. A smaller, lighter grappler might have shot toward the hook, but Roquefort instead tore out a chunk of his office wall that flew toward him from behind.

Zenkichi did indeed dodge the Rip Line that Roquefort shot toward him, but he frowned for a moment when the giant robot wolf did not drag himself in for an attack. It was the sound of the wall being torn free that caused the Phantom thief’s eyes to widen as he leapt for his life, diving to the ground with little regard for whatever situation he wound up in after, so long as he avoided the chunk of office that was being yoinked directly at him. He managed to narrowly avoid the giant slab, which promptly sailed toward Roquefort instead. The big bad wolf brought his other hand around to smash it to smithereens, then gathered himself and pounced at Zenkichi for another big slam.

”GYAH, get me out of this thing!”” Blazermate said, not doing so well with her only course of action to keep her healing beam and healing drone on herself as Khamsin’s mech kept her pinned and tried to crush her. This was doing damage to all of her parts in quite a rapid fashion, and that was not good.

With his spin coming to a stop and Blazermate requesting aid, Karin decided to take more direct action. She dashed away and then hopped up, curling into a ball before landing on Khamsin’s hand. She grabbed onto it and began slamming her fist into the wrist joint over and over, punching her knuckles raw to get Blazermate out of the vice grip. ”I have you!”

“You don’t got shit!” Khamsin barked at her. With both ladies on one arm, he lifted it up, adjusted his aim, then slammed it down right on top of what he correctly identified as a medical drone. Karin’s efforts had worn down his arm’s grip strength, but the hefty impact with the floor did the same for her, and when Khamsin tossed Blazermate into the air Karin went with her. He brought his axe back as they went up, then blasted its rockets as they fell, hoping to turn both to paste with one gigantic -but very off balance- swing.

Zenkichi, meanwhile, was doing his best to fight off Roquefort. His opponent had size, some speed, and power on his side, but Zenkichi had quite a lot of staying power for a guy his age. He sidestepped Roquefort’s slam, though it left him in a poor position to counterattack, and called on Valjean to hit Khamsin with a Triple Down as he tried fighting off his own foe. Roquefort howled and reared his arm back for another large swipe, but this time Zenkichi got the memo, barreling forward instead of trying to dodge, and he brought his greatsword down in an overhead swing to capitalize on the opening. The heavy slash to the inside of Roquefort’s arm elicited a grunt of pain, and he instinctively stepped back. Never one to settle for less, he turned his backstep into a retreating revolution and lashed out with a huge tail slap, making the most of his speed and range. Then Roquefort spooled up his arms and a moment later sent them into overdrive, advancing with a flurry of sixteen light claw slashes in the span of two seconds, fast enough to become a blur of blue energy. His attack rush ended with a wind up into another big swipe.

As Karin dropped in what felt like slow motion into the massive swing, several options ran through her mind. It would be easy enough, she thought, to use a grapple hook and pull herself in any other direction other than right into the axe. But that would leave Blazermate exposed, assuming the Medabot was too frazzled from her damage to swing. Blazermate needed protection. Karin fired her grappling hook at Blazermate and wrapped her into a hug, turning them around so Karin would be the first to get hit by the chainsaw axe. Then she pushed the bot out of the way with her feet and braced for impact.

Not wanting to be hit by that next attack and having gotten a lot of charge from the constant, and panicked, healing of herself, Blazermate activated her ubercharge, giving the same benefit to Karin who had managed to free her, even if this was a bit more of a follow up attack from Khamsin. The mighty axe swing, even if a bit haphazard, hit the duo, but did absolutely nothing but knock them to the floor, an impact that also did absolutely nothing. In fact, the recoil from the negated impact sent a shock through Khamsin’s mech, and with a terrific noise it slammed to the ground, its limbs slack. “What!? How!?” the soldier yelled, tugging at the controls to no avail as his systems struggled to reboot themselves.

Karin opened her eyes, glancing down at her own body to find it not only completely unharmed, but glowing with powerful energy. She pushed herself into a sitting position, looking to her Blazermate. ”A-ah, I see!” Karin got to her feet and began sprinting at the slackened mech, thankful her glowing body was hiding her somewhat embarrassed blush. ”Well done, Miss Blazermate!” She called out.

Karin leapt upon the damaged mech, grabbing the top of the cockpit with her hands and using her her momentum and strength to knee Khamsin solidly in the chest with both her legs. ”Hiyah!” The double knee smash drove the air from Khamsin’s lungs. Gasping, he brought his arms -still strapped with the controls for his mech, up in a block to protect his head. At the same time, the mech’s arms feebly attempted to mirror his action, their systems rapidly coming back online.

”Thickheaded brute! Your nature can’t be hidden by anything, not even this unwieldy machine.” Karin berated. She held onto the lip of the cockpit with one hand and fired her fist into the blocking Khamsin with the other. Turning around, she saw her uber fade and the mech began to come off line. So she finished off with a throw, grabbing both of Khamsin’s arms and pushing them to the side, before again kicking him in the chest and pushing herself away with an elegant backflip before landing on the ground.

Zenkichi managed to block the massive tailswipe coming his way with his sword, though it left him rattled and reeling when Roquefort started his whirlwind of slashes. As the first blows landed, Zenkichi managed to grit out to Valjean ”D-Deathbound!!”, which caused a swarm of shadowy hands to emerge from the ground beneath them, aiming to pummel the robot werewolf. Roquefort could either tank the hits and punish Zenkichi, or abandon the attack with the hopes of also dodging the swarm of limbs. Either way, the Phantom Thief, stubborn and strong as he was, was clearly not having a great time on his side of the fight.

”Help him!” Karin shouted to her medabot ally, pointing at Zenkichi. ”I can handle this one myself!” Ideally such a boast would bait Khamsin into focusing on her more. It was also just a good tactical move, because Karin was at full-health and overhealed after the ubercharge was focused on her.

Blazermate was mad, but she agreed. Either way, Khamsin had all of his weakpoints now highlighted as Blazermate registered him as an emmy, much like Roquefort. Although for Khamsin his weak point was the most obvious, his organic body.

Zenkichi clearly needed the help, too–Roquefort had not relented his assault even as the wraithlike hands of darkness gouged his metal frame from below. Once the flurry assault softened him up, the final hit sent him spinning to the ground with flesh stab wounds. Then Roquefort jumped clear of Deathbound’s shadowy miasma, shaken but not compromised. “Money…is power!” What should’ve been a moment of respite left him frustrated as Blazermate’s sentry targeted him, riddling him with bullets. With a growl he raised his arm, took aim at the stationary turret, and then shot it with a Rip-Line. Just the giant hook slamming into the machine was enough to disable it, but Roquefort yanked on the line anyway to rip the sentry apart into a shower of nuts, bolts, and springs. The damage he’d taken up to this point was nothing to shake a stick at, and he wasn’t keen to take any more.

Blazermate made her way to Zenkichi and started to heal him. She had used her shield and uber to get out of Khamsin’s grasp. She also called back her healing drone, as Khamsin’s attack had damaged it quite a bit. She’d need to save it for later. Perhaps while healing Zenkichi she could get some ubersaw hits in, but his opponent was quite fast.

During this time, Khamsin rose from where his mech had slumped down, the axe hefted in his hands as he heaved himself forward with one massive, loud step after another. “You little fuck!” he spat at Karin. He lowered his weapon’s head to the floor so that its teeth scraped against the floor, then slid forward and swung at the woman in a spray of sparks. “Ooooo-RAH!”

Karin concentrated intensely as the mechanical warrior carved through the floor to get to her. She didn’t want to underestimate his maneuverability or intelligence, though he had thus far proven to not have much in either. Karin walked at a brisk pace towards the charge to throw off his timing and then side-stepped the charge when she thought he had committed to it. Though she preemptively jumped over any sudden swings coming her way. With Blazermate exposing his weaknesses, Karin’s plan was to exploit his eagerness to kill her and punish his attacks. If all her evasion was successful, she plucked herself out of the air with her grapple hook and flung herself to the ground between Khamsin’s legs, looking to target that already weakened knee joint. Her fists were as strong as any steel and packed full of ki, and she put them to work with precise, strong strikes. And just like that she was out, dashing with one arm behind her and the other across her as his foot slammed down where she’d been the second before. Karin tried to put herself in an awkward space for Khamsin- just out of arm’s reach for his mech, but closer than the edge of his weapon.

Practically seething, Khamsin forced his mech to dash backward, then burst forward again. As he slid across the ground, he fired opposing thrusters, causing the huge machine to rotate. It whirled like a black steel cyclone, wreathed in crimson as his giant axe dragged along the ground, but with the damage to his leg he could only sustain it for a moment. When it ended, however, he let go of his axe to unleash a gigantic palm strike with the mech’s left hand.

Karin jumped back to avoid the cyclone strike. As she finished her backflip she flinched, closing her eyes a split second before getting slammed by a hunk of metal shaped like a hand. ”Ukh!” She strained, launched back across the room. She landed with a tumble, dispersing the impact and popping back to her feet, sliding back a short distance further. ”Simple.” She said, maintaining her composure. That was a heavy hit, but street fighters let no fatigue show. Let alone a Kanzuki. She began to advance again, showing no signs of weakness. Having tasted blood, Khamsin came to her. He lifted his axe onto his shoulder with a loud clang, then slid forward and reached out for the heiress with an unblockable grab.

Karin knew getting grabbed was unacceptable. She would have to hope he would commit to it. She walked forward and jumped over the grab, looking to land on his head. She attached herself with a grapple hook to make her harder to dislodge.

”Just keep me alive.” Zenkichi told Blazermate as he pulled out a handy device he’d picked up from one of the Machine Spirits he’d crushed in the Valley: an EMP grenade. Activating the weapon and tossing it at Roquefort, he then howled, activating Fury, and rushed forward, his attacks now launching small shockwaves of magic energy with each swing of his blade.

“OWWWWW!” the financier howled, his mechanical body crippled by the EMP blast. He crumpled to the ground, leaving just one Wolf standing and free to whale on him until the last of his body’s current stamina had been depleted. On the final hit, Roquefort reeled backward, his wolflife features collapsing and contracting until nothing remained but the man he’d originally been, leaning on his cane. Though he breathed heavily, his eyes smoldered with anger, and the other cyan elements on his body glowed with the same fervor as he glared at Blazermate and Zenkichi.

”Stay down. You’re beat.” Zenkichi said, once his rather cathartic pummeling session ended, Fury no longer active. He held his greatsword in a ready stance, threatening to pop it over his shoulder and cleave Roquefort down the center, even as the other man was clearly powering something up. ”I’m serious. I can keep going a lot longer. You can’t. Just surrender. You’ve lost!”

Blazermate meanwhile wasn’t as merciful. ”Zenkichi, without a friend heart, hes just going to fight til he dies.”

“I’m only just getting started!” Roquefort scowled and raised his cane, flashing yellow. Zenkichi sighed and popped his shoulder up, swinging with his arms as his greatsword came down directly onto Roquefort’s cane, stopping only once it had carved a solid inch into the cyborg, Zenkichi staring directly into his face. ”You said they-!”

But things hadn’t gone quite as he expected. The Roquefort that Zenkichi struck was a rough approximation formed from murky, purple crystal that welled up in the man’s wake as he stepped backward through the blow. Then the scapegoat crumpled into a pair of floating bombs, spiked like jacks. Completely untouched thanks to EX Amnesia, Roquefort turned to run as the dark magic bombs stuck to Zenkichi like glue to blow up in quick succession a second later. “Know your place!” After reaching a safe distance, Roquefort snapped his fingers, using Departure. The air cracked and became a dark void above him, and as soon as possible he then thrust his cane into the ground, giving rise to a geyser of dark crystal spikes beneath Blazermate.

Blazermate wasn’t really in a mood to deal with all of this after having her heart broken, almost literally, by Khamsin. She’d continued to heal Zenkichi in his fight with Roquefort using her only free hand before he teleported away leaving a duplicate in his wake and bombs on Zenkichi. Due to all the self damage he had been taking, giving him overheal wasn’t the easiest thing to do, and on top of that she had to deal with a spraying geyser of the same dark crystals he had started to use on Zenkichi.

Blazermate did an evasive roll in the air, using her shield to take the brunt of what she didn’t dodge. She was really sick of this fight though, and urged Zenkichi to close in on Roquefort so she could teach that man a lesson, keeping him healed like she had been as she was worried about him dipping from the bombs.

”Did not expect that…” Zenkichi muttered as he recovered from the explosion of the bombs that had replaced Roquefort. He charged back in, greatsword at the fore, and let off a series of mighty swings while calling for Valjean to unleash a Megido blast on the man.

A hefty counterhit put an end to his assault as a crystal spike burst from the void Roquefort set up earlier as a defensive measure. With a grunt of approval, the accountant thrust his hand forward to conjure a clone of dark purple energy, which surged forward at a low angle to deal Zenkichi a parting shot as he landed. By then, though, Valjean’ Megido was falling. If Roquefort set up another Departure he might have been able to escape, but going for an extra bit of damage meant he couldn’t do anything else but try to block, and the Almighty explosion proved to be too much. “Argh!” Smoke wafted off the new burns and rips in his fine suit vest as he skidded to a halt, thoroughly roughed up by all the chip damage. With a growl he snapped his fingers, and another cracked void appeared a dozen feet in front of him.

Meanwhile, Khamsin was trying to get Karin off the top of his mech. While his initial grab missed, he reached for her again after the woman anchored herself to his armored roof, blindly grasping for her. Due to the orientation his the titan’s arms, they could only reach from the front, but after a fruitless moment he changed tactics. Rather than try to grab her he plopped the arm down on one side of the mech’s top, then forcefully swept it across the other side like a giant window wiper.

Karin braced herself to jump when the arm dropped onto the roof, and it slid underneath her, dislodging her grapple hook. ”Hup!” She landed back on the roof and rolled forward, going to once again grab the lip of the cockpit and swing her legs under. This time instead of going for Khamsin himself, she targeted his wrists independently with both her legs. Then she did the splits, looking to pin his arms against the wall. Essentially doing the splits. She learned on her last little visit the mech arms mimicked his physical body’s actions. After that she attempted to fire her grapple hook into the palm of his right hand and then attach it to the interior of the space, while hopefully keeping his left arm pinned with her foot.

The speed with which she arrived and restrained Khamsin’s arms left the soldier with no recourse. He struggled against her strength, the arms of his mech split apart to match his own, but could neither free nor even defend himself. “Shit, shit!” he yelled, spittle flying as he tried in vain to fight back against Karin. “Psycho! Get the hell offa me!”

”Ohohahaha!” Karin laughed at his insult and struggle, not exactly disproving Khamsin’s notion. With one of his arms trapped by her fired wire, she used her hook to latch onto the lip of the ceiling and brought her other fist back, still doing the splits, and began punching him hard in the face repeatedly with her free hand. She would do this a few times before clocking him up in the jaw and chopping his exposed neck.

Khamsin yelled in pain. Still in control of the mech’s lower half, he fired off its boosters and directed it forward. The machine quickly picked up speed and shot toward the hallway leading away from Roquefort’s office. Its arms, spread wide struck the sides of the corridor upon entry. They smashed through the walls to an extend, but eventually the arms failed and snapped off, even as Khamsin kept going. He grit his bloody teeth, crammed his eyes shut, and forged ahead. After a couple seconds, the mech burst from the hallway and zoomed toward the balcony edge overlooking the Atrium with its monolithic statue of Kale. The soldier dug in the pitons on the mech’s feet, and its momentum caused it to pitch forward as it continued to carve furrows through the floor. Some part of his delirious mind meant to fling Karin off into the void, but with how things were going it seemed more likely the whole mech would be going.

For a moment Karin gasped, failing to take the legs into account. She kept punching, but was distracted, peering over her shoulder. When the arms failed and snapped off, there was no reason for her to keep pinning his arms against the sides of the interior with her legs, so she drew them in to give herself more balance and control. Thankfully she was still attached via her grappling hook. Karin pushed off and up, and let air resistance take her over the top of the roof so she was still on top of it, her free hand and legs trailing behind her. With a jolt she was nearly flung back over the roof of the mech as it dug into the ground, but she grabbed onto the underside of the roof with her free hand.

Was the whole thing about to go over the balcony? It pitched forward, Karin feeling her core get pulled off the mech. Karin steeled herself and kicked herself up, her feet going high in the air as she did a handstand stand on the edge of the mechs roof. Then she swung her legs down and under, slamming them into the mech and leaning back as far as she could, pulling back on the grappling hook with both hands in order to secure its free fall over the edge. Though with her underneath it she would need to act fast afterwards, should her plan work.

”Hiiiyah!” Karin felt gravity shift in her stomach as she strained backwards, her hair ringlets hanging beneath her. Then wind resistance took them and her as the mech plummeted head first over the balcony. Detaching the grappling hook, she kicked off and away, and fired her hook blindly up into the wall behind and above. She bounced against the wall with a thud and peered down to observe the fate of Khamsin’s mech.

With her assistance, the already dangerously fast machine lost control completely, and with nothing but a flimsy glass railing to bar the way, Khamsin went over. In an instant his anger and desperation evaporated, replaced by pure, raw terror. As he fell, his screams echoed through the Atrium. “Oh God, oh God, oh GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD…!”

Karin let out a breath. ”Goodness…” Swallowing dryly, she was reminded of her time helping in killing Sephiroth while still under Galeem’s control.”My victory was assured, but your death could have been avoided. Still, this wasn’t my first time smiting an evildoer, and it shan’t be the last.” She said, and began to climb her way back up using her grapple hook.

Back in the office, Zenkichi had rolled with the latest hit, digging his heels in as he slid to a stop and desperately dove away from the follow-up Roquefort clone, drawing one of his revolvers and quickly sliding a single bullet into its chamber to blow the clone to smithereens before standing and reloading in earnest. His attack didn’t have any effect on the glorified projectile, but at least it seemed extremely one-dimensional in its movement. ”Alright, stay away from the crystal stuff. I can manage that.” Zenkichi muttered as he snapped the cylinders of his revolvers shut and took aim once again, firing a test shot at the void between them. His shot did nothing to the void, but after another second of inactivity the tear in reality spat out a crystal spike on its own, its two or three feet of length nowhere near enough to reach him. Almost instantly the spike broke and the void vanished, and after throwing a low clone at Zenkichi Roquefort went to snap his fingers to place another void near him for safety.

Now that he realized what the voids did and what Roquefort was going for, Zenkichi tanked a hit from the clone, before taking aim at the Finance Executive and unloading with one revolver as he tried to circle around the void that he’d placed to protect himself.

His round connected with enough force to knock Roquefort over backward, and as he took damage the void he’d placed in the air mended itself. With a growl the financier pulled himself up on one knee. There was still plenty of fight in him. “You know, you’re only making me angrier!” His position might look like one of vulnerability, but it also allowed him to tense his legs like a trackstarter, and the next moment he sprang forward. As he ran toward Zenkichi he changed forms again, quickly growing as he reconfigured back into wolf mode. With deceptive speed and reach Roquefort snatched his opponent and ran with him to the vault door on the far wall to smack and pin him against it. “Let’s take this somewhere more secure,” he rumbled, his metal lips and teeth inches away from Zenkichi’s ear. “So we don’t disturb the neighbors…”

With a mighty shoulder barge he bashed through the unexpectedly fragile vault door, and huge chunks of it went flying across a second room almost as big as Roquefort’s office, lined with columns of safety deposit boxes separated by floor-to-ceiling equalizer lights and sporting a glass wall on the far side. The wolf tossed Zenkichi onto the floor, and phase two began.

Blazermate followed Zenkichi, keeping him healed as Roquefort’s charge pushed him through the vault door. Since she had been healing the guy this whole time, she had another projectile shield, and as round two started, Blazermate activated said shield and tried to keep Roquefort in contact with it.

The twin-tailed annoyance quickly found herself turned upon. Roquefort let out an ear-splitting howl using Valkyr’s Warcry. The enormous buff boosted his armor strength by 45% and melee speed by 30% while also slowing down everyone within twenty-two meters by 25%, all for the next twelve seconds. While the slows from the projectile shield and Warcry balanced each other out, that still left the melee speed boost, so when Roquefort attacked Blazermate with the slash flurry he used earlier, he could get out a whopping eleven strikes per second for total of twenty-two rather than sixteen by the time he went for the final slam.

Zenkichi, a little bruised from the dragging charge, turned to Blazermate as Roquefort started unleashing a furious combo on her and gave her a quick defense boost with Rakukaja, before drawing his greatsword and rushing in to take advantage of not being targeted for once. He genuinely had expected Roquefort to be on his last legs, but he still had plenty of fight left in him thanks to Blazermate’s healing. He might as well return the favor.

Blazermate used a combination of her energy shield and her own shield to try to block the flurry of attacks heading for her. Due to the chaotic frenzy of the attacks, Blazermate couldn’t easily predict what distance to project the energy shield to block some of his attacks, so while a couple clashed against the projectile shield, most plowed through at which point she had to try to block them as best as she could. Either way, while she was taking damage, so was this guy as the energy shield zapped him, albeit lessened by his armor boost.

As Blazermate took the last hit of Roquefort’s attack rush and flew away, Zenkichi closed in and landed a good string of attacks. The giant wolf dashed away after he finished, quickly moving to the other side of the room by the glass wall. There, he let out another resounding howl, a yellow flash appearing behind him with big bold text that said BIG BAD WOLF, then began to breathe in. After sucking in vast quantities of air, he leaned forward onto all fours with his claws dug into the floor. A moment later, a cyclone funnel as tall as a bus blasted toward Zenkichi.

As Roquefort started sucking in air, Zenkichi’s eyes went wide as he recognized what was about to happen. Not specifically, but he knew a heavy attack when he saw it coming. ”Valjean, quick! One-Shot Kill!” He cried as he hefted his greatsword, using it to block what he expected would be a furious dash attack, instead finding himself flung backwards by the cyclone and slammed hard into the wall behind him.

As the whirlwind took hold of Zenkichi, his Persona’s magical bullet hit Roquefort in the forearm. He expelled the last of the air he’d taken in as a distorted yelp and rose, shaking his clawed hand like he’d just burned it on the stove. Of course, he got out of the exchange much better than his opponent, and the CFO gave a grim smile. “Just had to stick your noses in, didn’t you? But you ended up getting a lot more than you bargained for.” He turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Blazermate. “It’s not too late to run away. Or are you ready to bet your bottom dollar?”

Grunting and forcing himself to stand, Zenkichi took a deep breath before drawing his one loaded revolver and firing every round in the cylinder at Roquefort before calling for Valjean again to hit Roquefort with Megido and drawing his greatsword. ”I’m not going anywhere, man. You don’t hit as hard as Japanese cops do.” He taunted, semi-serious. The beating he got in custody wasn’t all that bad compared to what happened to Joker, but getting your head slammed into a metal interrogation room table hurt like hell. He could handle this, even though he ached like hell right now.

When Zenkichi opened fire, Roquefort put up his guard to mitigate the damage, but he kept a monocled eye out. When Valjean manifested, the financier knew that one of just a couple abilities must be in store, and he wanted neither to hit him. As Megido descended he mostly dodged it, only getting his tail clipped by the explosion, though that still damaged its tornado generator enough to disable that move. Roquefort bared his teeth and dashed in, closing the distance in a heartbeat to face off against Zenkichi’s greatsword with energy claw slashes, always with half an eye on Blazermate. Several times now the Medabot had acted with utter impunity, as if she never expected to be hit. If she tried to interfere again, he would prove her very wrong.

Well right now Blazermate was on the defensive more than the offensive, after having been hit so many times this combat. She had to spend a fair amount of time healing herself due to all the focus on her, but at least for now she wasn’t going to attack Roquefort right now. Either way, with all the healing, she’d have another kritz here soon.

Zenkichi did his damndest to match Roquefort blow for blow, but he certainly wasn’t fast enough to do any kind of fancy parrying or blocking like Geralt had when they fought. Where he shone, however, was his ability to soak damage. Only Ryuji, or some of Joker’s more defensively-oriented Personas, could rival him in that regard.

And Ryuji didn’t have Rakukaja back up. Giving himself the defense boost this time to buy time for Blazermate to heal herself while his life leech kept him going, Zenkichi roared in defiance with each swing of his greatsword, even as he and Valjean started to flag. They could do this. They could do this!

“Hmph!” After the storm of blows subsided, Roquefort dashed backward again. He’d left Zenkichi seriously hurting as Blazermate attended to herself, but the detective had given as good as he’d gotten. Fresh damage to Roquefort’s arms, head, and torso could be seen all over. “Not bad. But your mouth is writing checks your arse can’t cash!” He howled, unleashing what remained of his shields. The wave rippled across the room just far enough to reach Zenkichi and afflict him with paralysis. Then Roquefort reeled back to use Big Bad Wolf again, inhaling deeply. If he couldn’t evade or contest the unblockable wind funnel, the man would be blown away.

Unfortunately for Roquefort, Blazermate was one of a few who could clear status conditions and upon seeing Zenkichi get afflicted with paralysis, was on point to quickly give him a surge of healing energy, clearing the status condition almost as fast as he had gotten it. This also gave him a little bit of healing, but probably not enough to really make too much of a difference, depending on how long Roquefort was charging his attack.

”We’ll see who's ass can’t cash checks!” Zenkichi replied, before frowning. That was horrible. He barely registered the paralysis, so quick was Blazermate’s healing. He ran in and capitalized on Roquefort’s charging time with a howl, stabbing his greatsword directly at his torso, then brought it around for a series of powerful slashes, getting ready to try and dodge to the side if he didn’t manage to keep Roquefort from charging this attack up. No repeats of last time here.

Zenkichi’s rushdown brought him beneath Roquefort’s head just before the gale winds ripped forth behind him, so they did little more than dramatically billowing his longcoat as the detective went on the offensive. His attack rush against the wolf mech’s armored torso dealt enough damage to trigger the armor case’s emergency shutdown mode, and as Roquefort staggered backward, he shrank back down into his short, squat self. “Augh! Lay off!” With no time to run or prepare, he could only hold tight to his cane as he went to defend himself.

Blazermate, seeing an opening, decided to see if she could get some more uber from this fellow as she pulled out her ubersaw and tried to hit him a couple times. She had healed herself up a bit, but both her and Zenkichi needed more of it. Still, if this guy was weak now, more uber would be helpful in case he pulled out another whacky power.

Zenkichi planned to take full advantage of Roquefort’s reduced size and speed and whale on him just as hard as he had been before, each blow given reinvigorating him just a little bit. What part of him might have felt bad for beating on this old man had been wiped out by the vicious beating he himself had received. Unfortunately for him, things went south almost instantly. Roquefort had bit his tongue while Blazermate poked at him with her doohickey, but the minute Zenkichi tried to punish him he whipped out Old Reliable. EX Amnesia completely nullified the detective’s first strike and stuck him with two floating crystal bombs. “They never learn,” Roquefort declared, psycho power welling up into an orb in his free hand. By crushing it in his palm he unleashed his pent-up super meter on Lovushka, creating four voids around his enemies, two at knee level and two above their heads. “Do enjoy this.” Then he just sat back and blocked to stop a possible hit from canceling out his projectiles, and watched the show. One after another, clones shot from each void in turn, the order being low in front, high behind, low behind, and low in front, with the Amnesia bombs going off in sequence somewhere in the middle.

As the crystal bombs appeared, Zenkichi cursed and redirected the swing of his greatsword, though the heavy weapon carried too much momentum for him to get out of the way in time. ”Ah, damn!” He grunted as he was hit in quick succession by the clones before the bombs went off in his face, though he managed to get out of the way of the last clone with a lucky dodge as he stumbled from the third clone’s hit. Breathing heavily, Zenkichi let the tip of his greatsword hit the ground, looking back up at Roquefort.”Man, I’m…used to having a lot more healing than this. No..no offense, just. Hoo boy.” Zenkichi complained. Joker typically kept at least one Persona that could give a heal, and almost all of the other Thieves had something they could top him up with. Blazermate was just one medabot, though.

”Perhaps you’ve come to rely too much on abundant healing then, Mister Zenkichi.” Karin said coolly, landing at his side from a grapple hook swing into the room. She took her fighting stance at Zenkichi’s side, trying to size up her new opponent. While she, of course, rated Zenkichi’s skills as lower than herself, with Blazermate’s help, the only way Roquefort should still be fighting on even terms was if he was exceptionally talented. No doubt boosted by the wicked rules of the world they inhabited (otherwise Karin would be at the top of the pyramid of power where she belonged).

With victory seemingly in his grasp, Roquefort took one look at the newly-arrived heiress and decided she needed to be dealt with straight away. He snapped his finger to set up a Departure in front of him for defense, then raised his cane and shot out a Psycho Power clone at her, its hand outstretched.

”Yeah, well if I could use Medigolaon or Agneyastra we wouldn’t be talking here…” Zenkichi muttered, frustrated at the block keeping him from accessing Valjean’s most powerful abilities, but he shook his head and did his best to keep in a good stance, sidestepping the attack that was not aimed at him.

”Well sorry, I'm not a Neutranurse. But you don’t want one of those anyway. All they can do is heal, and they crumple under any sort of pressure.” Blazermate said, moving back and getting ready to deploy her next super buff, giving everyone some healing as Roquefort was in more of a defensive stance now, with his damage output plummeting. Once he was open though, some Kritz would show him what for.

Karin opted out of the quips, her eyes widening in confusion as the violet shadow streaked towards her. ”Psycho power?!” She exclaimed, baffled. She crossed her arms in front of her to block the projectile. Roquefort’s Embrace promptly snatched her in an unexpected command grab, and as the financier raised his hand into the air, so too did the clone lift Karin. “Away!” He closed his fist and the clone exploded, knocking Karin down. His Departure went off a moment later, though way too far away to actually extend the Embrace into a combo, and Roquefort began to set up another, this time directly over Blazermate.

Karin compressed her lips, angrily dusting herself off as she rose into a standing position. ”Simple.” She said, intent on never falling for an attack as simple as that again. Karin dashed in, going low as she saw the object appear over Blazermate, assuming it was some kind of attack. She went to crack his leg with a balanced crouching kick. Roquefort responded by blocking low, though when it came to melee combat in his human form he wasn’t as fit as he could be. Karin’s kick dealt a little more chip damage and left him in a little more blockstun than normal.

Karin noted this, and dashed in to do a repetitive series of palm strikes, expecting Roquefort to block most of them. It wasn’t a true offense, Roquefort could interrupt at any time, but Karin looked to suppress this instinct by following up with a wickedly fist downwards backhand that would shove Roquefort out of danger if blocked but would crush him if he attempted to interrupt.

”Let me know when one of you wants a kritz to finish this guy off. I don’t think that defense will handle that very well at all.” Blazermate said, ready for this fight to be over and done with.

”More than happen to put this guy on his ass.” Zenkichi grumbled, moving in to assist with the pummeling with an overhead slash before shoulder-checking Roquefort and launching a slow, heavy follow-up slash from his hip to his shoulder. He finished the short combo with a call to Valjean, ”Triple Down!”

When Roquefort saw Zenkichi’s big swing, he seized his opportunity. Once again he used Amnesia, planning to catch the man mid-swing, but the detective held it for way longer than he expected, and Amnesia failed. “...Oh dear.”

The Triple Down blasted him backward, smashing him through the glass wall. He sailed out over a gigantic hoard of gold coins covering the vault’s entire floor, dozens of feet deep. While common sense would dictate that he’d splatter against the top of the coins like a bug against a windshield, Roquefort disappeared into the pile as if it had the consistency of sand, only a splash of coins heralding his impact.

”Uh….now that’s some cartoon logic right there.” Zenkichi simply stated, blinking.

“Hmph!” After a moment, some of the coins began to shift. Roquefort’s head poked up from the hoard as he calmly climbed out, adjusting his tie as the money jingled noisily. “I put my stock in futures.” With a frown he delicately pulled off his monocle and slipped it inside his vest. “...But not yours.”

With that he quickly transformed again, regaining his giant wolf mode. “The funny thing is, you all think you can win, heheheh,” he chuckled, his deep voice filling the vault chamber. He sounded tired, but pissed. “But my Rage Drive fuels me. As long as you keep making me mad, I’m not going anywhere.”

”You’ve gotta be kidding me…” Zenkichi muttered, shaking his head. ”So, what, do we just…not hit him? Let him just kind of tucker himself out? Or what, just keep hitting him until he’s too tired to keep going? This is getting ridiculous…” Nonetheless, he jumped once more into the fray, rolling his shoulder and hefting his greatsword after he landed. ”I’m good to keep going.”

”Well, I doubt he can survive a Kritz. I gave one to Bowser once, and he killed an immortal lich girl with an army of undead that took over an entire sector .Robo wolf can’t be nearly that strong.” Blazermate said, pointing out that he can’t last forever. ”If he was that strong he would’ve taken over the city, beaten the ever crisis, and expanded anyway.”

”Everybody’s got a limit,” Zenkichi agreed. ”Alright, lay it on me.” And with that, Blazermate gave him the crackling blue energy of a krtiz boost, with her own arms glowing with the same energy, as Zenkichi’s weapons also glowed with the same energy.

Thrumming with kritz energy, Zenkichi charged forward, intent on ending this fight. He roared as he clashed with Roquefort, putting as much as he could behind each attack he let off. Blazermate holding the Kritzkrieg’s beam on him would keep him standing, hopefully, while he overpowered this False Wolf in front of him. He swung, and swung, and swung furiously at Roquefort, an overhead swing followed by a horizontal slash, which was then followed by an overhead swing. He finished the combo by kicking off the ground with one foot, spinning in the air, and hefting his sword with him in a near-360 degree overhead swing from where the last landed, using both his body weight and the momentum of his swing to maximize the damage he dealt.

More than able to hear what Blazermate said about the ‘kritz’ and see what Zenkichi looked like in possession of them, Roquefort pulled out all the stops. He reared back, but rather than howl, he screamed. The blue light in his body turned from blue to a searing yellow, extending his claws into vicious talons. With Valkyr’s Hysteria online, he charged across the dunes of coins to fight Zenkichi to wolf-to-wolf. He fought with savage, reckless abandon, not even trying to defend himself as he scored hit after grievous hit. And the reason why quickly became abundantly clear:

Roquefort wasn’t taking any damage.

He laughed as he fought, shrugging off every hit with minimal effort. “Are you beginning to understand?” After a few seconds more Zenkichi’s kritz ran out, and Roquefort leaped into the air, somersaulting rapidly. “Money. Is. Power!” When he came down, he did so with a titanic slam that sent a wave of coins through the entire hoard. The detective dodged the deadly blow, but a moment later, Roquefort ran out of Energy. Hysteria deactivated, and as it did thirty percent of the damage Roquefort took while using it radiated outward within five meters as Impact damage, practically pulverizing all the gold in his immediate vicinity.

Zenkichi groaned as Roquefort’s explosion vaporized a huge amount of gold. ”Gotta be kidding me..” He muttered as Valjean manifested behind him. He was tired, sore even with all the healing he’d been getting, and frustrated. This guy seemed to just keep going. Whatever that Rage Drive crap he was talking about was, Zenkichi couldn’t be sure. Some sort of software in that robot body of his? Did it absorb his adrenaline and use it to power his werewolf form?

This was out of his wheelhouse. ”Blazermate, got any ideas to keep him from transforming back if we can pound him back down?” He asked as he moved back in to fight.

Karin watched all that from a safe distance as soon as Zenkichi took over. She jumped back to the side of her allies. ”The Rage seems to be over, now, yes?” She pondered. ”He baited out the use of our most powerful move by using his. But he was losing the battle before, and he is still losing now.” Karin said.

“You wish!” Roquefort told her halfheartedly.

”Are you alright?” She asked Zenkichi, standing in front of him and eyeing Roquefort down. She was preparing for an all out assault from the frenzied wolf, and was ready to try and counter any moves he threw her way with a dodge and a punish.

She eyed Roquefort, though, and hoped to extend the lull in the battle to give her friend some time to heal. And maybe something good would come out of it. ”Even if you win this battle, your company is in shambles and will soon be under new leadership. You’re smart enough to understand there are more types of power than money, yes?” She said, eyeing the preposterous amount of gold coins all around them. The financier grunted resentfully.

”And my goodness, sir, have you ever heard of a bank?” She asked.

Roquefort huffed. “Those DespoRHado fools aren’t trying to take us over. They’re trying to take us out. They’ve done some damage, sure, but they won’t win. And we’ll bounce back, like always. As long as we have the capitol, anything’s possible.” Though still ‘in the fight’ he was using the lull to recover his stamina and shields too, but as his heartrate slowed his anger was slowly subsiding. “Speaking of, perhaps I could pay you to piss off. Killing you in here would make a fine mess, and laundering money is illegal, you know.”

”Ah, too true, on all counts.” Karin said with a little laugh. ”Still, I know a bad investment when I see it, and a private security company being invaded isn’t a good look for investors, though it hardly reflects much better on DespoRHado. Speaking of which, you know we’re not with them. We’re here to change things. For the better.” She turned over her shoulder at her two allies with a raise of her eyebrows, like she was a little surprised she had actually gotten into a conversation with him at all.

“You attacked me first!” Roquefort protested.

”Well, we also defeated your other attacker, so maybe we’ll just call it even?” Karin offered cheekily. ”There is one more type of power, the one most potent: knowledge.”

Blazermate let out a mechanical sigh. ”I suppose loot is loot at the end of the day. We’ve got important things to do and I suppose we were here to break up the fighting here at the end of the day. ” She said, annoyed with the fight but healing her own wounds back up as everyone else was also taking some time to rest. Pulling out a friend heart, she said. ”We can talk civilly.” and with her flight speed, got in range to smack him with it as he was also recovering.

“Augh!”

Zenkichi let out a long breath, stowing his greatsword and lifting his hands above his head to breathe a little easier. ”Yeah, I’ll live.” He confirmed to Karin before taking a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, and letting it out before shaking a little weariness out of his bones. ”Finally, change of heart done with!” He cheered half-heartedly, looking around. ”Man, what I wouldn’t give to have this much cash stashed under my mattress.” He joked, locking his fingers behind his head as he looked around.

“Urgh…” Roquefort put a hand to his head as he shifted back into human form, leaning on his cane knee-deep in gold coins. “Let’s just…call it even, then. You’re right about that DespoRHado goon, after all.” He gave a mirthless chuckle at Zenkichi’s joke. “Heh…heh heh…if only this were all mine. Still, email me your routing number, and I can approve an expense from Accounts Payable.” He pulled out a business card and with an expert hand tossed it to Karin like a frisbee. “Somethin’ tells me our pool of liquid assets is about to get a lot shallower…ugh, damn it.” He winced, glancing at the Seekers. “Off with you then.”

Karin caught the card between her fingers. ”A reasonable conclusion. I’d give you mine but…I didn’t bring my butler with me.” Karin said. She made a mental note to back and retrieve her assistant. She’d gone too long without one.

”... Does, does anyone have a banking account here? I think only Susie does, right?” Blazermate said, looking a bit dumbfounded and frankly, confused since this didn’t involve anything a medabot ever dealt with.

”I literally live here…” Zenkichi reminded her, scratching the back of his head. ”You guys beat me up and did that to me, like…two days ago.”

”Oh… right. I forgot. I’ve been like, in so many different weird places it’s hard to keep track of every little detail.” Blazermate said, lightly bonking herself on her head. If she had a tongue, she would be sticking it out.

Shaking his head, Zenkichi chuckled a little. ”Nah, I get it. It’s…a lot. And yeah, I’ll probably take you up on that, sir. And uh…I guess it’s time to go?” He shrugged.

”We must reunite with the others as soon as possible. I doubt everyone will be as open to diplomacy. Khamsin certainly wasn’t. I doubt he still lives.” Karin said, moving to leave the vault.
Development Hell - Vs Monsoon

Location: Midgar Sector 06, the City of Glass
Geralt’s @Multi_Media_Man, Tora, Mayer, Sandalphon
Word Count: 5,864 words (+6)


When Monsoon hit the ground, Mayer and her bevy of Robotters turned their attention toward him. “Alright, Meeboos! let’s make sure he stays down!” She jogged toward the fallen Wind of Destruction and sicced a Robotter on him, which ran ahead and jumped at him as he tried to rise. Monsoon, however, recovered unexpectedly quickly, and before the Robotter landed on him he cut its jump short with a sai through its chest. Mayer activated the detonation sequence, causing her minion to spark brighter and louder, but Monsoon recognized what was happening fast enough to twist around and hurl it back in Mayer’s direction. Just before it could smack into the Anaty’s pack and cause a devastating chain reaction, a jolt from her Short Circuit disintegrated it, and its disappearance gave Monsoon a good view of the enraged look on Mayer’s face. “Oh, you’ve done it now!”

Geralt charged at the Wind of Destruction through the smoke cloud left by the small explosion, sword sheathed on his back and claws ready to tear through the nihilist. Figuring that it would be best to match his opponent in the number of weapons they brought to bear, he slashed at Monsoon with a quick combo of attacks, caring more at the moment for getting an idea of Monsoon’s fighting style than dealing any real damage.

Though smaller than his assailant, Monsoon was fast, and his sais moved like a natural extension of his body. He sized Geralt up at a glance, recognizing his greater reach and natural strength, but also identifying his shortcomings. If this man wanted to stow his weapons and play around, he would come to regret it. Very much going for damage, Monsoon swerved and struck like a snake, making the most of weapons his foe clearly knew nothing of. He deflected Geralt’s swipes and swats whenever viable but was not afraid to take a few errant scratches if it meant maintaining advantage or landing a hit on his own. Neither his metal body nor chain mail could be effectively cut, but the latter could certainly be pierced once the easy-to-hit Queen shield went down. Pretty quickly Geralt found himself stabbed in a half-dozen places, and though Monsoon hadn’t targeted anything vital yet, his repeated thrusts to Geralt’s forearms and hands made his plan of methodical disarmament clear.

Before too much could happen, though, the Witcher’s allies joined in the mix. Tora barged in from the side with his Sabo Shield extended to try and knock Monsoon over. The Cambodian vaulted over him cleanly, putting a little distance between himself and Geralt so the man couldn’t immediately capitalize, but right on Tora’s heels came another of Mayer’s Robotters. Monsoon whirled around to impale it send the four-legged bomb back to sender just as he did before, but while everything going on made him a little hasty, Mayer had grown wiser. The young woman yanked on her Robotter’s wire mid-pounce, halting its momentum, and as it it the ground her pet detonated in a rippling electric explosion that caught Monsoon halfway through. “Gragh!” He stumbled away from the blast, electrocuted, smoking, and ripe for Geralt to make a real effort.

Having gotten a better idea of Monsoon’s fighting style, Geralt was more ready to take advantage of Tora and Mayer’s intervention. Quen had taken a good few hits before breaking, though the speedy fighter had managed to break through the magical shield in the end. The giant Witcher charged in, his hand making the Sign of Yrden as he placed an area trap around himself and Monsoon, which slowed the Wind of Destruction down enough for Geralt to savage him with a flurry of claw strikes that came faster than he would have been able to swing his sword.

His efforts dealt good damage, but the fight was just getting started. "Savor it while you can!" Monsoon spat, dashing away. He reached down to his belt and removed a pair of smoke grenades, which he hurled right at Geralt and Tora. They went off noisily and turned the whole area into a gray haze in a matter of seconds. "I could be anywhere!" He cackled, out of sight and about to spring.

"Group up, quick!" Mayer called, moving with her pack to join the others. Behind her, the silhouette of Monsoon appeared for a split second before he leaped in, his sais extended. On hit or block, he'd jump away into the haze again, then strike from another direction until the smoke diffused away.

Geralt sighed as Monsoon threw the smoke grenades their way, shaking his head as he waited about five seconds before drawing the Sign of Aard and slamming his hand into the ground, hoping to use the blast of force to both knock the grenades away and dissipate what smoke they’d spewed out. Regardless of whether his plan was effective, he drew his steel sword and took a defensive stance, ready to lash out and use the weapon’s superior reach against his admittedly more agile opponent.

The Witcher’s sudden expulsion of force didn’t work as well as a blast of air would to clear the area, but it at least removed the sources, scattering the smoke-spewing grenades to the corners of the giant room. As the smokescreen began to clear, the trio spotted Monsoon the moment before he hurled something else at them. Two handfuls of energy kunai zipped through the air, buzzing like angry wasps. Tora raised his shield and Mayer’s Robotters joined her mechanical arms to help create a robotic shield for her to hide behind. That left just Geralt, and Monsoon ran straight for him, picking up speed. The Witcher got only a moment to see that his foe’s hands lay not on the sais now in his belt, but the handles of the katanas on his back. Then Monsoon drew them and shot forward through the group in a blur of orange flame and purple lightning. Strangely the Seekers felt nothing–only when he replaced the swords in their scabbards did a delayed double-elemental hit strike them all. That strike both broke Tora’s poise and knocked down Mayer’s Robotters, and when Monsoon whirled around two more handfuls of kunais whizzed toward his foes.

Geralt was caught off guard by the elemental-dash attack, grunting as the delayed strike landed on him, but when Monsoon hurled another barrage of kunai, he was ready. The Judicator appeared to tank them, reducing the damage to little more than pinpricks to Geralt between the Striker’s bulk and his own tankiness. The team hadn’t taken much damage so far, the last blow notwithstanding, so Geralt directed it to launch its own barrages of energy at Monsoon, in the form of spectral flames as he ran in with his steel to match the nihilistic swordsman’s own, relying on both his enhanced strength and decades of combat experience to overwhelm Monsoon with a flurry of slashes.

More than happy to step up to the challenge, Monsoon met him in kind. He might not have lived as long as Witcher, but his cybernetic body also outstripped the limits of mortal man. Quickly switching from the flashy elemental extravagance of the katanas Onimaru and Jyuzumaru to his sais, Dystopia, he fought with weapons designed specifically to capture and entrap enemy blades, his two against Geralt’s one. They traded blows in a flurry of sparks and steel, landing as many hits on one another as they deflected. Dystopia danced in Monsoon’s hands as he changed his grip style as necessary, almost as happy to pummel with their blunt ends as impale with their points. Though he managed to snare Geralt’s steel sword multiple times with the prongs, the strength of the Witcher made him difficult to contain, and both added kicks to the mix.

While Geralt kept him busy, Mayer circled around with her Robotters, zapping him with her Short Circuit as she looked for an opening, while Tora kept his shield up, not daring to interfere with the melee. Now that he’d seen those Robotters explode, Geralt knew who could put out the highest burst damage in the group. If he could give her a chance, Mayer would make it count.

As Geralt and Monsoon traded blows, with Geralt taking at least twice as many smaller hits but hitting significantly harder, the Witcher took a kick to the side of the knee that let him fake a stumble, goading Monsoon into an attack that he let through his defenses while his free hand made the Sign of Axii. Even if the magic only stunned him for a few seconds, it would be enough for Mayer to send in the Robotters. “Now, I can take the hit!” Geralt urged, even as he raised his arms in front of him and leapt backwards.

Faced with a perceived opening, Monsoon span Dystopia in his hands and brought both down for plunging stab, aimed for the base of Geralt’s neck inside the collarbone. Before he could sink them too deep, axii took effect, and he locked up the moment the insidious magic touched his mind. Tora, already spurred forward by what looked like a vital wound, heard Geralt’s signal loud and clear, charged in and bashed Monsoon with the Sabo Shield. The Cambodian staggered backward drunkenly, his mind still under assault, and Tora bathed him in a torrent of flame. As his flamethrower blazed, Mayer commanded her Robotters forward, and three of them jumped on Monsoon in quick succession. The second took him to the ground, and as the third joined the dogpile, Mayer hit her switch. They detonated in a blast of flame and lightning that the nearby Seekers could feel in their bones, and the pieces of Monsoon scattered across the ground like the parts of a broken action figure.

With Monsoon apparently defeated, Geralt pushed himself to his knees, one hand holding his neck to try and stop some of the blood flow, the other fishing around in his pack and grabbing a potion to try and manage his wound. “Damn…went right for the throat.”

“...A commendable, if futile, effort.”

Tora’s expression turned to horror as his eyes settled on Monsoon’s severed head, still speaking. “You may take pride in your size and strength, but in the end, you’re just a relic of the long-forgotten past. Slow, old. An ape striking rocks together to make fire. Strong, weak. Everyone dies.” Suddenly, a protrusion extended from his circular visor, the cell in its interior crackling with purple electricity. The same charge began to flow through his pieces, causing them to clatter against the floor as they slid toward him. “Phnom Penh and the Khmer Rouge taught me that. I was raised on the Killing Fields, where the instruments of war genocided a third of Cambodia’s population.” His pieces rose and magnetized together, starting with the quarters of his torso. Then his arms and legs socketed together on the green seams, before the limbs themselves reattached. Only his scabbards continued to float, and as he spoke his katanas drew themselves from their sheaths.

“Writhe all you like. Life has no meaning. It is but a flickering flame.” With a wave of his hand, his magnetic power yanked Mayer’s remaining six Robotters from their wires to fly towards him and float in a ring behind them, struggling as he pulled their limbs off. Clenching her teeth in rage, Mayer detonated them in the hopes of hurting Monsoon, but as the blasts went off and the smoke cleared the Cambodian stood there still, wreathed in purple lightning. He raised Dystopia. “And the rains have come.”

“It is so easy to throw away the value of life, pretend that it means nothing, but all you are is a scared child who never learned to make his own life, find his own meaning.” Geralt spoke, the last drops of a dose of Swallow dripping down his lips. “I may be a relic of the past, but you ought to beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” Raising to his full height, Geralt summoned Fizz and Panther as his hand plunged into his gut, ripping out the Hateful Flesh in a spray of gore and viscera, and he leapt at Monsoon with a roar, slamming the weapon over his head to crush the nihilist while his Strikers shot and charged at Monsoon as well.

When Geralt swung at him, Monsoon did not flinch, his smirk hidden by the visor that now shone with magnetic power. As the giant blade drew near, his body cleanly split apart at the lines on his body in a way that the Witcher might’ve found oddly familiar, were he in his right mind. This separation allowed him to almost effortlessly dodge the attack by letting it harmlessly pass between his pieces. More than ready for Geralt’s arrival, he brought his floating katanas down in a splendid orange-and-purple flare of fire and lightning, then jumped backward to put some distance between himself and his melee attackers. Panther landed a handful of blaster shots, and though Monsoon felt them, he focused more on what came next. He lifted his arms and shot his forearms toward Geralt, his sais’ points outward to create flying blades.

Geralt ignored the flying Sais as they grazed past him, spinning the Orphan’s viscera weapon once in a wide sweep before launching it at Monsoon, running towards him and grabbing a handful of flesh grenades when the weapon returned to him via the umbilical cord-like lead it was on. He threw the grenades as he made the Sign of Quen to protect himself, launching into a frenetic frenzy of blows against the DesporHado lieutenant, planning to either get a good few hits in or at least get a better idea of the new trick this frustrating man had up his sleeves.

Monsoon leaped over the giant fleshy sickle as it scraped across the floor, magnetically holding himself in the air for a split second to make sure there was no room for error. He landed as Geralt wrenched out some explosive pustules, and when they flew toward him and brought the katanas around to form a protective X, blocking most of their power even if he took a bit of splash damage. The blades then parted, and he stood firm as the Witcher went wild, separating fast enough to avoid every slash and smash, all accentuated by Monsoon’s derisive laughter. After an especially big overswing from Geralt the Cambodian took his chance to launch upward with a backflip kick to the Quen shield. From midair he launched himself down in a dive kick, bouncing off and then magnetically hurling himself back down to divekick a total of three times. On the third kick he broke the shield and hit the ground, followed shortly by the katanas as they dropped down after him with a double overhead chop to almost -but not quite- cover the divekick’s recovery.

In that moment of tempting vulnerability, Mayer’s voice rang out from behind Geralt. “Look out!” she cried, a hair too late for her ally to avoid a nasty surprise. Twin lances of agonizing pain coursed through Geralt’s system as Dystopia sank into his back, driven by the detached arms of Monsoon as they floated behind him. He yanked them out, and as they flew back toward him as if tugged on threads of electricity, the Cambodian positioned his katanas to either side before closing them on Geralt like a giant pair of scissors.

Before the blades could meet, Tora got in the way. He ran in and jumped up to intercept both katanas with the sides of his Sabo Shield. Immediately the shield itself counterattacked, returning a portion of the swords’ would-be damage with a shotgun blast of cactus spikes. Almost all of them hit Monsoon, and with a frown he hopped backward. With Geralt injured, he produced two more smoke grenades and pulled their pins, but as they flew through the air Mayer slid to a stop next to the Witcher. Her Short Circuit sparked twice, deleting both grenades in rapid succession. She and Tora stood in front of him to give him a moment to recover, though Monsoon didn’t plan to give them that chance. He sent out his forearms to fight with his sais from a distance, wielding them with maximum lethality and minimum vulnerability. Tora clenched his teeth and blocked like his life depended on it.

“Are you okay?” Mayer ventured to ask. Her mechanical arms seemed to be hard at work, building a new Robotter on the fly.

“I’ll live,” Geralt grunted, calling on the Judicator once more to heal him with its self-flagellation, the damage he’d taken forcing him to reconsider his strategy once more. Monsoon had managed to dodge every blow of his, though ultimately it wasn’t terribly shocking that this was the case. The Orphan’s weapon could have managed this fight without Monsoon’s strange separation powers, which reminded him of Nadia now that he had a moment to think on it, but it was too unwieldy to be viable here. As the monstrous weapon dissipated and Geralt drew his steel sword, the Judicator’s flailing having closed some of the wounds the residual healing from Swallow couldn’t handle, he ran in to engage Monsoon. Hopefully he’d be able to get the maniac off of Tora before the Nopon was overwhelmed.

In fact Tora hadn’t been doing great. After a few frantic seconds of all-out defense against Monsoon’s remotely-controlled arms, the cyborg detached his lower half and sent it running at Tora too, his torso just hanging by itself in the air like the body of a puppet. His kicks targeted the sides of the shield to twist it out of alignment and negate the threat of reciprocal spikes, and after a moment he hooked his heel around the edge on Tora’s non-dominant side and wrenched it, opening his guard wide up. Tora took a side kick to the belly the next moment, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t take, and he reached for his hammer. The blow turned out to be nothing more than a distraction, however as Monsoon’s weapons went for his unprotected face. As durable as Tora was, could the same be said for the Nopon’s eyes? Geralt’s steel sword swung in at just the right time to prevent Monsoon finding out, knocking Dystopia and the attached hands away with a direct hit. The Cambodian reeled in his detached parts, but rather than snap back together he separated everything and rocketed forward as a corkscrew of whirling blades and metal body parts. Rather than hide behind his shield, the startled Nopon steeled himself and swung his hammer, aiming for Monsoon’s head. He missed and smacked one of the cyborg’s shins instead, and though the strike sent the body part into a spin, it quickly magnetized back with the rest as Monsoon passed the two in a barrage of hits.

Geralt sidestepped the corkscrew of blades and body parts, drawing the Sign of Aard and launching a blast of force at Monsoon’s separated body parts to try and knock the attack out of focus. Even held together by blood, Nadia’s individual parts were much easier to manipulate when separated, so he figured the same principle might hold true here. Regardless of whether it worked out the way he hoped, Geralt went for Monsoon’s head, swinging and stabbing quickly while trying to dance around the disembodied limbs that swung for him.

The blast of force pushed the whole storm of parts away, like a school of fish shying away from a prowling shark. Monsoon’s head went with them, but a moment later the metal twister wound toward Geralt again. Even identifying the head among them was difficult, let alone hitting them, and the storm did not linger. After buffeting Geralt and ending up behind him Monsoon turned and came back for one more pass, then socketed back together a little ways off. He glanced down at the fresh dents and grooves left in his armor with veiled displeasure, then looked back at Geralt. “You really don’t know what you’re dealing with.” When he extended his hand, his magnetic power arced to the Witcher’s steel sword to pry it from his grasp.

Geralt smirked, letting go of the sword and drew silver, slashing with a grunt. “Two swords for a reason.” He simply stated, knowing that silver wouldn’t be nearly as easy to manipulate as steel would be, and resumed his attack with gusto and fury, Fizz appearing alongside the PT Imp Pack to swarm him with quicker attacks. Even Tora joined in. “Go for the head!” He commanded them all as his silver sword flashed and sliced through the air and, hopefully, flesh.

In reply, Monsoon shot his head backward, followed shortly by the rest of his segments almost like a giant slinky. Now that Geralt had a pretty good idea of what to target, there was no use trying to hide it. He sent out his arms with Dystopia, his lower half, and finally both katanas, whirling them through the air like elemental boomerangs. By doing that he could fight the whole group at once, but doing so clearly taxed him. His detached hands fought Geralt with far less dexterity than before, and though his katanas cleaved into his Strikers, his lower half found less success against Tora this time around. The little guy wasn’t stupid, after all. Rather than hide behind his shield he fought with his hammer, whacking Monsoon’s legs at least once for every kick he took.

Geralt grunted with each hit the Strikers took, but he pressed onward, doing his best to keep his head on a swivel and his sword in the way of each attack coming for him. It was easier now to do so, with Monsoon focusing on so many targets, and Geralt quickly found himself near Monsoon’s head, which tried to retreat once more, only for a quick pirouette and side-step to bring Geralt closer in a quick burst of speed so that his silver blade to cut across Monsoon’s visor. When he struck it, the magnetic node on the front gave out a burst of energy and retracted, disrupting the connection between all of his parts. They fell to the floor, limp as the limbs of a puppet with its strings cut. The witcher looked down at his seemingly-felled opponent and blinked once, before violently stabbing his sword down into Monsoon’s head, not taking victory for granted against such a…biologically unrestrained foe.

The stab sunk partway into the head, but the unfortunate reality that silver was half as tough as steel -especially against a target armored in even tougher metal- meant that the plunge wasn’t game over. Instead the magnetic node reactivated and Monsoon’s parts hurtled from where they’d fallen to reunite along with his head a couple dozen feet away. The Cambodian put a hand to the gash left in his head, the look of utter spite on his face hidden by his mask. “You’ll rot here!” Rising into the air, he unleashed his magnetic power. Spare parts, loose engineering projects, and even sections of the floor began to rise, lifting up and tearing away to slam together into a mass above Monsoon’s head. It span like a giant sawblade, its teeth the edges of the plates ripped from the floor now dotted with holes leading straight to the lava lake below. “...Left Hand Rule” With that, he hurled the immense projectile at Geralt and Tora.

Geralt’s eyes widened as he watched the giant mass of swirling death forming above them, drawing his crossbow and firing wildly at Monsoon with it. His body blurred and separated rapidly with each shot, and after a few, Geralt stowed his crossbow, realizing that it was useless. Finally, Monsoon launched the massive buzzsaw at them, and Geralt quickly cast Quen before running towards their incoming death, trying to slide under the incoming attack.

It was a tight fit. Maybe even the tightest. As the disc of metal debris advanced it struck and destroyed Geralt’s shield, but against all odds, the Witcher himself managed to slide beneath. He passed within just inches of the metal maelstrom, but after another moment he slid out from the other side, untouched by anything larger than loose wads of scrap metal.

Unfortunately, he then slid right off the edge of the floor and out over one of the pits Monsoon’s magnetic destruction opened up. Right away gravity began to take effect, and with Tora and Mayer both in the background thanks to their evasion attempts, he had only a moment to take action before he plummeted away from the grid of support struts and toward the lava below.

“FUCK!” Geralt shouted as he slid over the edge and into an open pit. He acted as soon as he could, hand forming the Sign of Aard, even if it would hurt to do so mere seconds after casting Quen, and his body was launched backwards by the blast of force and into a support beam, which he clung to desperately as he called on Panther to help pull him up. His body ached from overuse of Signs, the impact, and the fight, but he climbed onto the beam with his Striker’s help, looking to see if he could find a way to climb up. “Can’t believe that almost worked…”

As if he’d been waiting for Geralt to say that, Monsoon slammed an alloy floor panel into Panther’s back with spine-cracking force, which the Witcher felt one terrifying instant later. The power of the blow bowled him over the edge, but the price paid for safety was incredible pain. Monsoon landed on the other side of the lava pit as Geralt writhed, both Tora and Mayer -who’d finished her build and run over to assist- powerless to help him. “You can’t fight nature, old-timer. If you can’t adapt…” He raised his hand, gathering more scrap to form another giant mass of metal. “You will die.”

“You’d be surprised what a Witcher can adapt to.” Geralt gritted out through the pain, trying to call the Judicator forth, but too weak to do so. Even still, he put both hands underneath himself and pushed up, trying despite the agony in his back to get to his feet.

A blue flash went off behind the trio. Tora whipped around to find himself dwarfed by a seven-foot holy woman, clad in spotless white beneath the golden luster of a three-ringed halo. “Do not be afraid,” she proclaimed, her voice calm. It was Sandalphon, the mission’s operator, here in the flesh. In her arms she wielded a strange staff, not like a rod but like a rifle, and as its elaborate head spun up she let fly a blazing bolt of energy that struck Monsoon directly in the node on his head. He gasped in pain and stumbled back beneath a painful shower of debris, his magnetic power temporarily nullified. Then Sandalphon turned her gunstaff in her hands, surrounded by electronic blue light, and planted the shaft in the ground. A ripple of divine blessing rolled outward, instantly healing Geralt, Tora, and Mayer for just over half their maximum health and granting a small regen to boot. “Keep him busy long enough for Mayer to get her creation close, and victory will be yours.”

With the arrival of the team’s guardian angel, both Tora’s mind and body felt way better. When she offered a plan, he gave a determined nod. “Roger, meh!”

“Oh. Now that’s better.” Geralt breathed in a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and drawing Odysseus’s Bow and wreathing it in Eldritch lightning even as more scrap was pulled toward Monsoon. He released a veritable fusillade of arrows, each imbued with lightning energy, and each fourth arrow imbued even further by the magic of the bow. His crossbow hadn’t managed last time, but this just might do it with the added electrical energy. And if it didn’t…he’d have to find a way to survive.

With no ranged weapons, Tora decided to be brave. He ran along one of the metal support beams over the pit of lava, the path made less perilous by his small stature. He held his shield up as he raced toward Monsoon. Though the assassin and his magnetic module were quickly recovering, Geralt’s voltaic barrage slowed him down long enough for Tora to get too close for comfort. “Gyah! Die already!” He took the fallen katanas in hand and wielded them against the Nopon, but between his spiky shield and natural bulk Tora managed to stay on him, even if Monsoon did maneuver himself to put Tora in Geralt’s line of fire. As Tora desperately bought the team time, Mayer finished her project. A brand-new Robotter was ready to roll, and after clipping one of her patented control wires to it the pair took off, sprinting around the holes in the floor like their lives depended on it.

Geralt watched as Tora ran in, a not insignificant part of him worried for the Nopon’s safety. But still he fired on as quickly as possible, each arrow potentially the one that distracted Monsoon long enough. Once Mayer’s final Robotter was ready and running, though, he changed strategy. Firing one last arrow, he pointed towards Monsoon and called all of his Strikers forth. Judicator roared, firing spectral flames. Panther growled and took shots with his blaster, while the PT Imps and Fizz charged in for a flurry of hit-and-run attacks. He’d had trouble before when overwhelmed by sheer numbers, so now it would hopefully do the trick one last time.

At that point, Monsoon had just gotten the better of Tora. He circled around with a quick roll faster than the Nopon could turn, then launched him with a double upward slash. Tora’s Sabo Shield fell from his grip, and Monsoon kicked it away before preparing to attack Tora as he fell. Instead the Cambodian took a barrage to the back and whirled around to see a whole crew bearing down on him. He leaped backward with a flip, hurling two handfuls of energy kunai at them, then landed a short way off. “Witless fools,” he snarled. As he crossed his katanas, his magnetic module blazed to life. “I won’t go quietly!”

Tora had landed too, and for a moment his eyes lay on his shield as he contemplated making a run for it. When he saw Monsoon, however, he took hold of his hammer with both hands and joined Geralt’s charge.

The assassin launched forward headfirst, piece by piece, and reformed to engage the mob in combat. His blades clashed against Tora, Fizz, and the imps, fighting all of them at once. He landed slash after elemental slash, a flurry of fire and lightning. First Fizz fell, then the imps, but as he raised his blades to cut Tora down a familiar shape sprang up behind him. He turned just in time to stare Mayer’s last Robotter in the face before it exploded. “No!” Monsoon snarled, his magnetism disabled as his body burst apart into pieces.

His head flew into the air, and when Mayer aimed a little pointer at it, the rivet gun on her top-right mechanical arm targeted it. “Comin’ atcha, Big G!” Expertly aimed by subsequent shots, the head bounced once, twice, then flew toward the Witcher, flipping end over end.

Geralt, having grown tired of the nonsense that the Cambodian ninja had been forcing them to deal with, in pain from the hits he and his Strikers had taken, grabbed the head out of the air. “You were tougher than I gave you credit for.” Geralt admitted, before drawing his hunting knife and stabbing the blade through the cracked visor and into Monsoon’s skull.

There was a brief discharge of sparks as the man died instantly. After another moment, the pieces of his body began to disintegrate. He left behind the katanas Onimaru and Jyuzumaru, the sais called Dystopia, and two spirits, both his own and that of the ninja Zero. And one more thing.

A disembodied groan, distorted by radio static, flared up over the sounds of Midna and her team fighting on the other side of the room. ”Kill…or be killed…”

Tora, who’d been just about to sag to the floor in relief, jumped up in sudden panic. “Meh-meh, a ghost!?”

”This…changes nothing. The traces…I will…return. The cycle…sure as the sun…will rise…the slaughter…will continue.”

”The rain falls…the wind blows…the strong…prey, upon the weak…all…is as it should…be-ee-e-e…”

Then the voice fell silent.

Geralt set about collecting the Spirits and weapons of the fallen warrior, looking over to Tora. “Any of this you think you can use? I’m used to carrying a few weapons with me, but there’s not much point in me keeping all of these. Probably hang on to the Spirits, though. Make them Strikers, I think, unless you had an idea for ‘em.” Whether he was perturbed by the staticky voice that had appeared after Monsoon’s death, he didn’t show it.

Tora’s face, meanwhile, showed just how much it perturbed him. It took a moment for Geralt’s question to register with him, and his worried look remained as he tried to distract himself with the spoils. Monsoon’s various blades all looked difficult to use and not at all a good fit for Tora’s fighting style. Not that he’d been fighting any more. “Friend Geralt should keep. Though after strange voice, thought of that man as Striker give Tora heebie-jeebies, meh.” He looked over to see that the other fight had already concluded, with Midna, Clara, and Macaron the victors. Then he glanced at Mayer. “Is Research and Development done for?”

“No way!” Mayer told him, smiling. “With Zanzo out of the way, we’ll be in better shape than ever. I wasn’t around when Macaron headed up R&D, but after working with him for a while I’m excited to see him in charge. Someone with a heart–not to mention some serious skills! I bet things’ll be pretty busy.” She crossed her arms. “If you’ve got a knack for tech, you’re welcome to join us. Fire-forged friends, as they say.”

Tora nodded. With the excitement of battle died down, thoughts of Poppi flooded his mind. “Tora would like that.” He gave Geralt an apologetic look. “Thanks for putting up with. Tell others Tora said ‘meh’, okay?”

Geralt frowned, not the contemplative frown Tora had seen him wear a hundred times before, but a more…real…frown. But after a moment it passed, and Geralt’s face was neutral once more. “Understood. Good luck, Tora. We’ll miss you.” He said simply, gathering the blades and heading over to Midna. “I think we’ve done what we came here to do.” Looking at the maimed Zanzo, Geralt hummed contemplatively. “I’d say I’m not sure which one got the worse fate, but given that most of him seemed to be metal anyway…well, he’s somebody else’s problem now.” After a moment’s pause, he gestured towards Tora. “Tora has chosen to stay here. I think it’s his best shot at fixing Poppi.”
Geralt of Rivia & Zenkichi Hasegawa

The City of Glass- Regatta Bay

Lvl 9 (222/90) +30 Collab XP -> (254/90)

Lvl 3 (21/30) +30 Collab XP -> Lvl 3 (53/30)

Word Count: 1,136 words


As the Seekers reconvened, Zenkichi was still going over things in his head. That Goldlewis and C knew each other from their world was yet another piece of the puzzle that they could connect- namely, Goldlewis would have insights into C’s psychology and capabilities, though how much those capabilities had changed was up in the air.

Geralt, meanwhile, was still in the dark about what had happened after the broadcast was cut. Missing vital context, he was much less patient than the former Turk, and as soon as they could go, he was through the portal, even if he grumbled about it the whole time. Shuffling to grab himself food to settle his stomach (which was rather upset at going through a second portal in one evening), he dropped into a chair heavily, a bag of jerky quickly disappearing into his mouth.

They gave the newcomer, Roland, a wary greeting, shooting Giovanna a look questioning their new tagalong.

While Geralt didn’t know what a G4 summit was (Zenkichi’s eyebrows rose, though he wondered if their worlds were similar enough that they meant the same thing, given that Goldlewis was from the US), what came after was much more interesting: He was a Source. The first Source of Goldlewis’ world, at that, and with powers that made Ciri look like a Witcher when compared to a proper sorcerer, if what Goldlewis had been told was correct. “Huh. My daughter, Ciri…is similar. Not quite as fantastically powerful, but she’s what we call a Source. A person with a deep, innate connection to magic, and incredibly powerful.” Taking a moment to practically inhale some jerky, he continued.

“She’s also a worldhopper.” Leaving that tidbit to sink in for the others, he frowned. “Which means she could be anywhere, or Galeem…fuck.” Sighing, he rubbed his forehead with his hands, frown deepening. “Fuck, I hadn’t thought of that until now. She’s in more danger than I thought…”

Zenkichi grimaced awkwardly at Geralt’s revelation, but tried to give the man a bit of hope. ”It could also mean she’s fine, and hiding out somewhere. Though, that adds the problem of finding her if she’s not willing to end up here.”
“Not that simple. Her ability to travel worlds isn’t quite so finely controlled. But it’s also not the point. Sources are prone to severe mental instability. It’s possible that this Happy Chaos is similarly afflicted, and as you say, might be a great boon or a great liability to the other Consuls and Galeem. If we can manipulate his insanity properly…”

”We can take him off the board.” Zenkichi finished.

“Or anger him into slaughtering us all.” Geralt hedged, throwing a bucket of cold water onto the whole idea. “It’s an idea, but one we’ll have to think long and carefully on if we decide to try it.”

”Yeah, I prefer not being slaughtered…” Zenkichi half-joked. “As for Shinra not knowing about the Consuls, I actually don’t find that terribly surprising. Chaos went to Konoe first, probably knowing how he’d react when given secret knowledge that he could use to amass power. It’s exactly how it happened in our world. Konoe was a tech genius, whose company maintained a personal assistant smartphone app called EMMA. In reality, it was an AI developed by a genius woman who basically had no emotions, and was using it to try and understand humanity.”

”Things get weird from here. Where I come from, there’s this sort of…collective unconsciousness that lies just beneath the surface of the world, that we call the Metaverse. It very rarely interacts with the real world. The app was taught a way to manipulate people in such a way that it warped the Metaverse by altering their desires, typically by manipulating past trauma they’d experienced. In turn, this allowed those people to manipulate others through the Metaverse, though they were mostly doing it unconsciously.”
Pausing, Zenkichi sighed and shook his head. ”I’m almost done, I promise. Konoe comes in at this point.”
Drumming his fingers on the table, thinking of the best way to phrase it, Zenkichi continued. ”Konoe became one of these people, targeted by his own app, though it only amplified what was already there: an immense sense of guilt that came from killing his own father as a child.” He paused again, letting that simmer. ”Konoe’s father abused him horribly, and one day, when his father revealed that he’d kill Konoe’s mother as well, and was just going to ‘get rid of him’…he killed his father.”

”The guilt’s controlled him ever since. He was convinced that there were no heroes in the world, that nobody would save him…so he became his own hero. EMMA preyed on that, and distorted that guilt, and that conclusion, to make him believe that he had to become all of humanity’s hero. Of course, he did that by using it to control people. His plan was ultimately to rid all of humanity of free will. And according to Consul C, Happy Chaos, he’s back to doing the same damn thing by taking over Midgar from the inside out. Whatever other plans he has under the hood, that we don’t know about…I’d be willing to bet they’ll use a similar method. Reduce people into mindless husks, obeying the whims of trusted leaders, or some grand system that tells everybody how to act on a daily basis.”

”Raz, you…said you might have a way to help? You’re a psychic, right?” Geralt nodded to that, humming in thought.

“Hate to burst your bubble, but how confident are you that he was telling the truth about any of that?” Geralt questioned.

”Pretty confident. Though he could absolutely be manipulating us, it’s perfect. It fits Konoe’s psychology to a T. No free will means no crime. No evil, no injustice. Just a perfect, peaceful world.”

“Then we’ll assume it’s true, I guess. I don’t have much to work off, though, given that we weren’t there.”

”Well, speaking of that: C mentioned some things about the abilities of the Consuls. They can all warp around as they like, though he said it wasn’t very useable in a fight. I guess it takes them a couple seconds to do it or something? It wasn’t clear. Uh…he said they can drain life, and mentioned that they could do so especially well from something called a Flame Clock, which sounds to me like it might involve that weird Machine he brought up during the debate. And they all apparently have one special ability unique to them, which was the least useful piece of useful information we got.”

“Always great to have that.” Geralt sarcastically confirmed. “I don’t have much to add. It’s late. We should probably leave the more involved plan making for the morning.”

”Yeah, probably for the best..” Zenkichi nodded, standing up and stretching a bit, before heading towards the bedrooms. ”I’ll go check on Akane and make sure she’s settling in, too. Night, everyone.”
Geralt of Rivia & Zenkichi Hasegawa

Midgar- Sector 6

Lvl 9 (220/90) -> (222/90)

Lvl 3 (19/30) -> Lvl 3 (21/30)

Word Count: 780 words


Geralt remained stoic in the entirely expected reactions of his allies, though not all were directed at his admittedly morally-dubious idea, and instead at the general thought of stealing transportation or otherwise duping people into helping them. Sometimes he forgot he was working with heroic types. As much as Yennefer might give him flak for his own selfless tendencies despite what he claimed about himself, he certainly wasn't as bright-eyed or bushy-tailed as these do-gooders he'd found himself working with. "This is the other reason." Blazermate's reassurance was...a small thing. But he gave the robot a nod. It was still something they could do if all else failed.

Zenkichi, on the other hand, seemed to remember that he was supposed to be a good guy and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "This is what this city does to you...tears us apart, makes us think in us vs them terms. Even now I'm still letting it get to me." Turning to Sakura and then Partitio, he gave the two a couple of nods while the Street Fighter headed off to enact her plan. "No, you're right. We shouldn't be stooping to those levels to get what we want. Though, technically I don't think Geralt's plan quite counts as stealing, mind controlling people is still...not great." The Witcher let out a sigh and shook his head at that, but followed along after Sakura with Goldlewis.

To the surprise of few, Sakura was rejected and sometimes outright ignored in her requests for transportation. Geralt hung by, close enough to make it plain that this girl was not one to be trifled with (though he knew she could handle herself, her current appearance did not necessarily belie that competence given that she was trying to blend in) though nobody seemed worried. They likely assumed that she was the child of some wealthy folk who lived and worked here, rather than somebody who had managed to sneak past the plate's security.

What did surprise him, however, perhaps less than it ought to have, was the gentlemen who seemed...perhaps too friendly? His eyes narrowed a bit and he slowly meandered closer, enough to hear their conversation rather clearly with his enhanced senses. Sakura, of course, was quick to offer her- and by extension, the Seekers'- help, though the man's request turned out to be...rather sad, actually, in a pitiable sort of way.

He wanted one of the few things gold could not buy- a true friend. Not a follower, a hanger-on, somebody merely pretending to be loyal for favors or scraps of wealth, but a loyal friend. It was perhaps even sadder that in his lack of sociability, he believed showing off himself and his wealth would get him those things. Geralt had no idea what photography really was, though he'd gotten glimpses of people taking pictures here and there, but even a flash-portrait was more a vanity affair than a way to make friends as far as he was aware. Still, he followed Goldlewis and Tora onto the boat after Sakura, casting his gaze about and getting a sense for the vessel. He doubted things would go sideways, given that this Limestein fellow seemed genuine, but it never hurt to have an idea of your surroundings.

Zenkichi, meanwhile, was thinking on what Goldlewis said. "You know, Benedict, something Goldlewis said is kind of bothering me. When all this goes away, who knows what will happen? I don't want to waste too much time on what ifs, but...I think you know as well as I do that experiences change you. If we let our morals slip because it's all for the greater good...no. No, I don't like that at all. And I know you've always been more practically minded, but...there's gotta be a line we don't cross, right?" Chin in his hand, deep in thought, he frowned.

He was certainly glad nobody in this group thought it was acceptable to just go about and kill people to get any little thing they wanted, and even he wasn't terribly concerned with the morals of temporarily stealing a boat and leaving it safely to be retrieved later, but the absolute conviction in Goldlewis' voice left a bad taste in his mouth. He and the Phantom Thieves were supposed to be allies of justice. Not like Konoe, who overrode people's minds, abused their trauma and tried to stamp out individuality to create a peaceful world with no evil in it. He had people's best interests in heart, in a truly twisted way, but what he did to achieve it was too far. He just hoped something similar wasn't happening here.
Geralt of Rivia & Zenkichi Hasegawa

Midgar- Sector 6

Lvl 9 (218/90) -> (220/90)

Lvl 3 (17/30) -> Lvl 3 (19/30)

Word Count: 789 words


The matter of their attire came up while they were planning how to get in, and Zenkichi looked himself over. "I mean, I'm not exactly the most fashionable guy in my office, but I don't look that bad, do I...?" His suit was fairly well-fitted, even if his white sneakers clashed somewhat garishly with them. His spectral Phantom Thief attire took the brunt of the dirt and grime of the day's shenanigans earlier, as well, leaving him looking eccentric enough to stand out, but not shoddy enough to stand out. With both Benedict and Goldlewis agreeing that he's best keep his head down nonetheless, Zenkichi was accepted as one of the group's hangers-on for going through without a press pass, however they decided.

Geralt was a guarantee for that role, as well, given that it was exceedingly unlikely he could get by with a press pass while looking like he was many centuries behind this place's technological level. He didn't even know how a camera worked, and while their main concern was getting passed the guards, there was no telling what they'd see on the other side. The Witcher quietly accepted that he'd likely be passed off for a bodyguard by one of the others, and given his resting murder face, that was probably their safest option.

While the others passed through the checkpoint, the group hanging around the teleporter entrance in the parking garage waiting around semi-awkwardly. "Never been in Sector Six before. Place basically has its own unit dedicated to handling it. So much corporate security and secrecy that I just accepted I'd never get the chance. Man, this is weird." Zenkichi kicked the ground, scuffing his sneaker and let out a sigh.

"Just hoping it's less miserable than the rest of this godsforsaken city." Geralt mumbled in return, carefully keeping an eye out and glaring down anybody who gave more than a single glance at the group.

After a short while of standing around, the teleporter started up, and they all went through, coming out in a...public restroom? Zenkichi paused for a moment before shrugging and getting out of the way of the others. "Good thinking," He complimented Blazermate and Giovanna before heading out and regrouping with the others.

Geralt, meanwhile, almost lost his eyes as they bugged out of his head for a moment, before blinking a few times and looking around more reservedly, letting out a small sigh. So much wealth, hoarded for greed and selfishness. He looked out over the Bay, closing his eyes. "A city of glass, and the most beautiful thing is still the water it tries to mimic."

Blinking a few times, he nodded. "Huh. Almost sounded like Yen there for a moment, though she'd probably appreciate the logistics this sort of place would take." He'd have to tell her all about this when they got back to Alcamoth.

Zenkichi had his chin in his hand, thinking about their next move. "Benedict or I might be able to try the same," he offered in response to Midna's plan, "Though it's a toss-up on whether that'd be a good plan or a terrible one. I wouldn't put it passed these people to call it in right away and demand to speak with a supervisor first or something..." Shaking his head, he shrugged. "Might be smarter for Ben to try that, anyway, given that he didn't go and blow his cover first chance he got..." Self-recrimination evident in his voice, Zenkichi shook his head to dispel the negative thoughts. He was trying to be better, and that included on tearing himself down over his mistakes. That just hurt the people around him, too.

Geralt, meanwhile, had another idea. A risky one, but one that might work. "Or I could just mind control them."

"I'm sorry you what?" Zenkichi whirled on the Witcher, confused. "You can do that?! Why didn't you do that before then!" The Witcher sighed and shook his head in response.

"Wouldn't have worked. Not on the golems, or robots, not on you, hell, not on really any of you. Easier to pull off on unsuspecting folks outside of a fight. Need to focus to give more complex commands, as well. And folk tend to realize when it's been done to their friend so I try to avoid using it unless I'm alone with somebody. That said, might be enough to get us a boat, then once it's done and we're on the other side I just tell them to sail back and forget our faces. They'll still remember some of it, but odds are we'll be far away by then. Up to you. Doesn't always work, though. Fair warning."
Geralt of Rivia & Zenkichi Hasegawa

Midgar- Sector 6

Lvl 9 (217/90) -> (218/90)

Lvl 3 (16/30) -> Lvl 3 (17/20)

Word Count: 642 words


As Giovanna returned from her second phone call not long after they'd received the news from Goldlewis about Peach, Zenkichi nodded along. Tearing off another piece of pretzel and tossing it in his mouth, he choked when the SOU operative mentioned that they had an appointment to make in the City of Glass. Thudding his hand on the table and coughing, he forced down the offending piece of food with a swig of beer and thumped his chest twice to help force it all down.

"God that hurt. Wow, that...doesn't feel like a coincidence." Quickly moving on from his embarrassing experience, Zenkichi stood and gulped down the last of his beer, taking what was left of the pretzel with him. "Then let's get going!" He agreed, following after Giovanna.




Geralt, meanwhile, was being updated by Midna and Raz about what they'd overheard from the 'rebellion' within Psych-OSF. The entire operation had been a setup to slaughter Seiran? This city was looking more rotten and corrupt by the day. Given that the man in charge of the Psych-OSF was apparently not just corrupt, but a threat that could have rivalled Galeem in Zenkichi's own world, that followed. It was a strategic move, if a dirty trick as well. Turn Seiran operatives into Others, then send the rest in to cull the transformed, killing both in the process. Finally, sweep up the dirt and destroy the evidence. It was a good thing at least some of Seiran was aware of what was going on, though he wondered if it would be enough.

As Goldlewis went over everything they'd learned, Geralt listened and followed along. It was a fairly succinct summary all things considered, but it got the main points and raised some serious questions about how much each faction of Midgar's defense was holding back. He hadn't interacted with anybody from Neuron, but DesporHado and the Psych-OSF were very suspicious to him, the latter having been confirmed to have traitors in their midst.

He had nothing to add, however, so when the call came in to meet up with the other team at Sector 6, Geralt set out with the others.




As the two groups met in the atrium of the Sector 6 hublink, Zenkichi and Geralt both looked over the opposite group, the absence of their missing members weighing heavily on them all. While Zenkichi didn't know Peach, he knew she was the leader of the Seekers and very important to the other members. Geralt, meanwhile, was shocked to see Tora without his gear, but refrained from making a comment and upsetting the rotund Nopon further.

They all grouped together and began discussing their options, with Midna and Blazermate both offering their own ways of getting past security. Zenkichi turned to Goldlewis and nodded at the man. "I think at the very least you ought to take one of the passes. People may recognize you here, and having an official invitation would make things much less noticeable. I'm on the fence about myself, given that I'm definitely AWOL by now, having any official presence here, especially with known dissidents, might make Konoe and his people realize I'm back. Assuming he even remembers..."

Geralt, meanwhile, eyed the giant robots warily. "Not sure I'm keen on voluntary getting closer to those things..." He admitted with a small amount of reluctance, shaking his head. "Especially with what we just had to deal with. Best I go around." His roundabout way of mentioning that he apparently wasn't in full control of his mental faculties aside, Geralt was being honest in that he wanted to avoid dealing with the guards checking at entry. "Though somebody will have to take the passes, for certain." So far, nobody had really offered to do so, though Midna and Blazermate certainly had good reasons on their end.
Zenkichi Hasegawa

Midgar- Sector 7 Slums

Lvl 3 (15/30) -> Lvl 3 (16/20)

Word Count: 400 words


Upon returning to the others, Zenkichi found that the mood hadn't really improved at all, and Roxas still hadn't returned after passing by him earlier. Part of him was worried about the kid, though he knew they all had some big emotions to work out right now, and he couldn't fault anybody for how they handled them given his own history in that regard.

It wasn't long until Giovanna had enough of their moping and took Isaac up on his offer to treat them, calling out the name of a local spot. The engineer was too busy to join, though and told them to put it on his tab. Well, that was a depressing look into how his daughter probably viewed him: how many times was he "too busy" for her?

Shaking his head to dispel the melancholy thought, Zenkichi went with the others to the bar that Giovanna had mentioned, helping to drag/carry Tora along. He didn't bother with any words of consolation or encouragement: If Poppi could be saved, Tora could do it. If not...

When they reached the bar, the positive atmosphere was almost overwhelming. He ignored the tiny part of him that wanted to be angry that anybody could celebrate given the circumstances that bought them this freedom, remembering that they all chose to fight. They knew the risks. Poppi, Cain, and Marshal all knew the risks of going out to fight the machines and they did it anyway. He wouldn't let his own issues take away from the fact that there was cause to celebrate.

Unfortunately, Giovanna came in with even more bad news once her call was finished.

Psych-OSF was compromised. Peach was turned into an Other somehow, and taken away by a team from Seiran that was apparently acting against the main branch. Hmm. Another branch directly under Konoe's control, and corrupt as all hell. That wasn't a coincidence, and Zenkichi said as much. "Konoe again, huh...? The fact that they can turn people into Others...not gonna lie, that scares me. He's used my daughter as a pawn to get at me before...but at least she's safe back at your headquarters. For now, that is." When their drinks and food finally arrived, Zenkichi quickly thanked their host and cracked open his beer, taken small chunks out of his pretzel and tossing them in his mouth. "Food's good, at least."
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar- Seiran Hideout

Lvl 9 (216/90) -> (217/90)

Word Count: 670 words


Geralt frowned a bit when Sakura mentioned possibly de-fusing with the Orphan's Spirit, but given that she didn't press the matter, he didn't say anything. As unpleasant as he might be, he couldn't guarantee that others wouldn't have worse results from fusing with that thing. He would have to meditate more often and try to work out his own problem with being overprotective of his allies (And more specifically, Sakura in particular) to help prevent such a loss of control from happening again.

Leave it to Sakura to want to avoid the political nonsense that was going on in this city. He knew exactly how she felt, and wanted the exact same thing, though he knew that they'd have to engage in some manner or another, especially if they wanted results. With the internal division going on not only between different groups but within the organizations (at least one) protecting Midgar, they'd have their work cut out for them. Not only would allying with any group directly likely buy them more enemies, but if they made the wrong choice, they'd probably be backstabbed themselves when the time came.

When Goldlewis cut off his musings on whether all of the Others were forcefully transformed, he nodded. "I'll defer to your expertise. The sheer size of this city is...so unlike anything I've ever seen. The logistics of equipping and feeding an army have won wars, a place like this? I'm shocked it has enough food to keep itself running."

He also concurred with the man's caution regarding fusing with Spirits. "Yes, it's...hmm. Difficult to describe, and quite unpredictable. We has a device that could localize fusions to a specific part of the body, and thus mitigate some of the dangers of Fusion, but it was brought with another team to an alternate location. Strategically speaking, having Peach in one team and the machine on another allows us to be more flexible when it comes to the Spirits we fuse with and keeps any one group from missing out, but it's still impossible to know the results before doing it." Drumming his clawed fingers gently on the table, he shook his head.

"What's worse is that the Spirits of the Guardians, the immensely powerful beings which we are hunting, cannot be destroyed or made into a Striker. Somebody must Fuse with them, or the Guardian will revive within 24 hours. I made the decision to fuse with the Guardian of the Deep Blue, though it wasn't done lightly."

They discussed the events they'd just experienced a bit more, with the question of why Peach specifically having been attacked being the most pressing thing on everybody's minds, when Goldlewis received a call from Giovanna. When he explained what happened to Poppi, Geralt's blood froze in his veins, and he shook his head sadly. There was a sliver of hope in that Tora seemed to believe there was hope to help Poppi be free of the Machine Virus, however a virus infected a machine, but they'd fared similarly to this group then- a strategic victory with some tactical losses. Ones that, hopefully, would not remain permanent.

As the others discussed the significance of these events, Geralt took a few minutes to meditate, trying to clear his mind. It proved to be different than normal, with his thoughts more chaotic than normal. Hmm. Yes, that was certainly a problem. Though it was interrupted by another matter, albeit one which was not immediately pressing, thank goodness.

After a cautious opening of the mysterious package that was delivered to their not-so-secret hideout (clearly, given that they'd been found), they were met with half a dozen press passes for the Presidential Debate. Huh.

That just left what they were going to do until then. Geralt, absent any idea of what to do in a city like this that he'd be willing to speak about in present company, shrugged and got himself another glass of water. What he wouldn't do for his Gwent cards right about now.
Geralt of Rivia

Midgar- Seiran, Abandoned Subway- Underground Nexus

Lvl 9 (214/90) -> (216/90)

Word Count: 951 words


Geralt's relentless assault did not go unpunished. His Strikers were quickly brought low, though the Judicator with its impressive bulk lasted its full timer, the others were not quite so lucky. Geralt did not respond to the wounds their defeat, nor to the blows that he made no attempt to block, dodge or parry. Blood trickled down his face from ribbon cuts, and as his berserker onslaught continued, he was skewered upon a pair of ribbons that crashed into him, slide along his armor, and dug between a small gap in the plates, impaling him.

As they pulled away, carving even wider wounds into the massive Witcher's flesh, Geralt slumped for a moment, falling to one knee as blood pooled around him. Blazermate was no slouch, nor did she ignore him, but his lack of attention to anything other than destruction allowed the Other to slam his face with its arm, knocking him to the ground. He coughed, blood spraying over his face and his armor, and rose once more, as the blood shimmered into glowing particles and vanished.

Like a phoenix, Geralt rose once more. He did not postulate on his miraculous recovery, even subconsciously. His only thought was murder. He leapt into the fray once more, only to be interrupted as an energy field appeared around the monster formerly known as Peach, and disappeared with her in short order. He whirled around, looking for what had done it, and his eyes narrowed as he saw the troopers drag one of their own away and made their escape. He tried to give chase, mind beginning to clear, but stopped when Karen Travers appeared and grabbed one of the OSF troopers they'd joined.

Letting the Hateful Flesh fall to the ground and be re-absorbed into him, Geralt stopped, listening to what the Septentrion had to say, even as his heart pounded in his ears, his pupils still thin and catlike.

More conspiracy talk. As his mind cleared, and his adrenaline slowed, Geralt sighed and shook his head, waiting for Travers to leave before saying anything. "The other Turk was saying the same thing. Zenkichi. Konoe, the administration, the corruption. And now that we know that these people can...do something to transform people into Others, it makes you wonder: is that where they're all coming from? Or is this somehow different than the other Others?"

Taking a moment to run his hand along his face, he grimaced when he felt a scarring gash on his forehead. Whatever that force that prevented his death was, it wasn't perfect, though that was preferable. He didn't know what it was, how it healed him, or if it could be overwhelmed, but he couldn't assume he was immortal. That was an easy way to become complacent.

With the return to their headquarters being much quicker than their descent, Geralt had little time to ruminate on what had happened in the cave. Though he did know one thing: he couldn't allow himself to lose control like that again. He put himself and the others at risk in his blind rage.

When they were finally back, Geralt ravenously tore into the food Goldlewis had prepared, thanking the man before making a second sandwich, this one even larger, for himself. He drank down as much water as he could tolerate before thinking about the questions they all surely had, and that the others finally began expressing. "Zenkichi mentioned there was corruption in the city's government. I wouldn't be so sure that these people are acting independently. If anything, Travers might be the one committing sedition by the way he spoke." He couldn't be sure of this, but he was sure this went even deeper than any of them realized.

"Zenkichi said that Konoe was corrupt, and had a way to control the minds of people in their world. This might be some way of attempting to recreate that. If he could instantly destroy anybody trying to act against his interests by turning them into a mindless monster, eventually people are either going to snap and fight back, or bury their tails between their legs and cower in the hopes of being safe."

He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. "And if we're all at risk of turning into one of those things, however they do it, it might be wise to heed that warning. Wait until a more opportune moment to strike. If Travers is planning to act against Konoe and the government, we could use that to our advantage. Zenkichi will want to hear this tonight when we regroup."

Letting out a sigh, he looked over the others at the table. "Though, there's something else that I need to bring up. I know most of you haven't been part of this group long, or fought alongside me, but...what you saw there wasn't normal. That wasn't me, and I mean that mostly literally. I think when I absorbed the Spirit of the Guardian...it muddled my mind. When we were in that strange corridor, being dragged along chasing and trying to destroy that device, one of those things shone its light on me. Midna said it was suppressing our abilities from fusing with spirits, after it almost caused her to fall off the platform."

"When the light was on me, and it was suppressing those abilities, my mind felt clearer. Like a fog had been lifted. And I've noticed since absorbing the Guardian, I'm more irritable. And I know, coming from me that's funny, but I am not exaggerating. It's altered my mind."

Ending on that ominous note, Geralt leaned back in his chair to let the others digest all he'd said, as well as their sandwiches.




Zenkichi Hasegawa

Valley of Ruin -> Sector 7: Breaker

Lvl 3 (13/30) -> Lvl 3 (15/20)

Word Count: 795 words



As the rain poured down, Wolf dragged his blade through yet another biped, the time between the first fight and this one having been enough for exhaustion and muscle fatigue to settle in. He was out of practice, but that was okay. All he had to do was keep fighting. A medium biped ran up to attack, but its leg was sheared off by an effortless beam of plasma, which was followed up by a second shot that tore its weapon-wielding arm away, rendering the machine harmless. Wolf stabbed his blade into the thing's torso, deactivating it with a sigh and a nod of thanks to Isaac.

The fight went much slower for him, now that he was tired, but it still passed fairly quickly. Susie's missile made short work of a great deal of the attackers, and each of the Seekers only had to contend with a few machines, though it still took some time to make sure things were totally swept up and nothing remained partially intact. The defensive structures were damn impressive for having been cobbled together by desperate folks who needed to protect themselves in the face of a callous government.

But soon, the Machines were dealt with, and Zenkichi, now finally back in his suit and sneakers, followed Isaac back to the forward command center with a slouch. He waved away a question of medical attention, having sustained no lasting injuries thanks to Valjean's protection. When Isaac thanked them, he nearly dismissed it as just helping out, but decided to accept the thanks graciously. "We're just glad that the army didn't get through. I...wish I could say nobody got hurt, but...well, Cain and Marshal..." Trailing off, he shook his head. "And one of our own got...well, I'm not sure what happened. But...dammit, we were such idiots! Why did we bring an Android out to fight a Machine army!" He buried his face in his hands, despair almost overwhelming him. "I don't know what happened to her. I just...hope Tora and the kids could do better than we did."

He couldn't say for sure whether he regretted staying or not. He had no idea what he could have done to help, and there was no denying that their help here had been vital. Even though only a fraction of the total army had reached the walls of Sector 7, it was still a sizeable group that the denizens of the Slums might not have been able to fight off without casualties of their own.

"Listen, don't uh...don't mention that if anybody asks, by the way? You can probably tell, but we're not exactly on good terms with the Administration right now." Zenkichi asked Isaac, hoping he'd be happy to keep quiet about it.

He shared a laugh with Partitio when he revealed his own sorry state of affairs money-wise, and promised to come back some time to share that beer. "I think we have bigger fish to fry, though."

When the Cargobob returned with Tora and the others, Poppi conspicuously absent, Zenkichi collapsed into his chair, speechless. Metaphorical clouds covered his face, and his mouth dried up. He'd failed again. Marshall, Big Bo, and Poppi. His first job since re-awakening and they'd lost a third of the group they set out with. He couldn't even make a self-deprecating joke. He just...sat there. Thoughts going a mile a minute, until he sighed and stood up, walking away from the others to the gate.

"Joker...how did you do it? I'm no leader. I couldn't even help myself. How am I supposed to save people if I can't keep the people by my side safe?" Clenching his fists, he raised his head up, staring in anguish at the clouds above, the rain having slowed but not quite stopped yet. "Konoe, you bastard. I'll end you for this. Letting these people die to further your sick games. How dare you. How dare you use the police like your own tools. You haven't changed. Not one bit. Condemn the evil...and hunt them down." He muttered to himself.

Letting his head drop as he let out a sigh, he turned back around, hands in his pockets and back to his traditional slouch. He had to do better. Had to be better than this. Konoe and PubSec were just the tip of the iceberg. He had no idea how far this thing went, even with what he'd been told by the other Seekers. Whatever this world would throw at him, he had to rise up. He had to get back into the swing of things, remember everything those damn kids had taught him. And if they could help him find them again? He had to make sure they were okay.
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