Eidolon
Murderface Murderface
Sev note: This collab is about a year old, and we're only posting it now. Ignore the inconsistencies with that in mind.
What a strange scene it was. One of man’s great pillars of society, a piece of infrastructure used to elevated the animal from the depths of a primal structure to a cultured and endowed existence. Yet this road had no one traveling upon it. Six lanes, filled with vehicles, yet not a soul was moving on it. Beholding such a sight caused the spectator, a youthful figure adorned with a platinum crop of short hair, to pause and take in the sight for a moment.
He was perched on the guardrail of the freeway, surveying the dead road and trying to figure out why, exactly it was dead. For most of the time Kite felt the presence of one of the demons, humans did not. They did not react to its presence, nor the feeling of its presence, and most certainly no administrative authority was used to curtail its attempting feeding habits. Yet this time, when he eventually arrived on the scene of the sensation, it was utterly quarantined. All the trappings of humanity remained but no humans to be found.
“Thank fucking god,” he spat out into the air, knowing no ears would hear it. The reason for his praise was simple: when he fought things tended to get blown up, crushed, thrown, or worse. And when people were about trying not to catch them in the crossfire just made it less enjoyable. Now, though, the youth could beat the hell out of whatever pissant demon decided to come to his doorstep this day and not have to hold back.
With a little hop, dust kicked up about the advent’s landing spot and the youth trudged forward; shedding his coat with a shrug of his shoulders. He tossed the garment behind himself, to flop down and settle on the rail and expose his sinewy frame restrained by a tanktop and cargo pants. Blue eyes slowly migrated over the dead terrain, searching for the beast.
The trouble with no humans around, was that there was no attempted eating or mutilating to easily point out where he should direct his fists. “God damn it,” the dead man muttered.
Much to the (eventual) chagrin of the ivory-headed man, the roadway was not as deserted as it initially appeared. In fact, the very reason why the youth could so joyously and carelessly cavort amongst the stationary vehicles might prove to be his undoing.
A deep, low rumble like thunder reverberated across the stagnant highway; the tell-tale thrumming of a powerful diesel engine. On the edge of the horizon, one could just barely make out a convoy of bulbous, black-and-white personnel carriers trundling down the freeway towards Kite. As they neared, the rather blatant insignia came into view – bold black contrasted against the bright ivory side panels of the strange vehicles. On each flank, they were marked with “UN” – something that in this particular instance no doubt referred to the United Nations. It was the branding on the hood however, that usually stood out to beings like Kite: a lyre.
The Orpheus Initiative had arrived on the scene.
As the vehicles bobbed close and closer to the platinum-haired man, one of the occupants caught notice of him. Almost immediately, a loud-speaker crackled to life.
“Sir, please remain in your car. We'll have you all moving shortly.” the agent chortled, waving for his truck to stop alongside Kite. “Please return to your–“
Unexpectedly the agent paused, catching a glimpse of someone else in his peripheral vision.
“Another one?” he could be heard muttering to his colleagues through the speaker. “Don't these people listen?”
“Ahem. Excuse me, sir!” he called, spinning to face the newcomer. “Please return to your vehicle!”
The second arrival however, trudged along oblivious to his prattling. It wasn't until the person came nearer that the agent realized exactly who, or rather what it was.
The creature was featureless – pitch black, like a shadow – all except for that mouth. Hung open in a constant gape, the vaguely humanoid thing bore a prominent, fang-filled maw. Shuffling closer, it became apparent that the creature wasn't exactly in the best of shape, either. Gashes, cuts, missing limbs – the thing seemed to be falling apart.
Reaching for his radio, the agent heaved a sigh.
“All units report contact. Repeat, all units report contact.” he muttered into the microphone, eying the shadowy beast as it staggered towards the truck. “I've got a Hollow here, I think, but it's beat up pretty bad. Did someone get here before–“
The man trailed off again as the others came into view. Ten, twenty, thirty – they just seemed to keep coming – stumbling out from behind cars, crawling out of culverts, slowly swarming over the highway.
“Code black.” the agent amended, barking anxiously into his radio. “Repeat, code black. We need to get this road cleared of civilians now.”
Listening to the man, it seemed as if Kite had balked. He stood, silent and with a oddly unflinching gaze leveled on the transport. However, behind the veil of the stupor, the young man was gripped with indecision. Should he flip them off? Should he start pissing on their vehicle? Maybe he should tip it over? So many options and ways to express his displeasure at this asshat butting in, but what would be best?
The questions were put on pause as the hollow, no, hollows, began to reveal themselves. It was no surprise all the young spiritualist could sense was some pathetic, weak thing looking to eat the invalids and cripples: the first to arrive seemed too meager to even bother with. As his gaze panned over to focus on the new object of attention, the seriously unfortunate nature of his position became apparent. He wasn’t here to put a beatdown on some laugh-worthy piece of shit demon. A horde of them were here to tear him limb from limb.
Maniacal grin breaking out on his face, the platinum youth leaned forward and charged in. “Better start shooting for your lives, pussies!” In a sea of quivering and starved shadow, the specter waded with savagery. Fanged mouths latching to his limbs even as they struck another of the infesting kind, it seemed the young man would be overcome.
“Wait, what the--” the befuddled agent sputtered as the ivory-headed man dove headlong into the growing horde of Hollows. “Oh goddamn it!”
Retreating back into the personnel carrier, the man once again grasped at his radio.
“We’ve got a situation. Route one near Old Tokaido. Some crazy guy just jumped into a bunch of Hollows. I repeat, we have a spiritually aware civilian on Route one near Old Tokaido.”
Pausing, the agent waited eagerly for a reply. A moment later, the radio’s speaker crackled to life, a familiar, authoritative voice booming through the cramped cab.
“Can we get a positive identification on him?” the male voice seethed, irritation evident in his tone. “Is it one of Cerberus’ boys?”
“No sir.” the agent sputtered craning his neck around to get another glance at the white-haired psychopath. “Our records are coming up blank. He’s not from Cerberus, and we haven’t been able to match him with any known civilian Advents in the system. What should we do, sir?”
A brief moment passed, during which the voice on the other end of the radio could be heard audibly sighing.
“Hold position. I’m on my way.”
A heartbeat later, arcs of coalesced spiritual energy began to radiate from the area where Kite had been standing. A static whine began to build, momentarily overpowering even the rumbling of the Orpheus carrier’s engines before -- with a ‘pop’ -- another figure appeared on the highway.
Striding towards the crazed Advent, the duster-clad man heaved a smoke-filled sigh -- a lit cigarette bobbing up and down between his lips as he spoke.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The youth responded with a continuing laugh. Amidst a horde of enemies, it seemed he was having the time of his life. A pair of them had latched on to his right arm, attempting to bite and claw at it as he desperately struggled against several more with lashes of his foot and left fist. Somehow, this maniac was enduring.
His body seeping with a white, faint aura, it seemed to deter and repel tooth and claw, where open wounds and bones might be showing, only deep cuts were placed. And even those, slowly but surely seemed to vanish from his form, even as new ones were earned. Spinning rapidly, the platinum haired combatant launched the pair at his new compatriot, their forms flying by and into a heap near Masato’s feet. Yet, their masks not broken despite their bodies being so, the demons slowly began to stagger up, letting out a droning noise of agitation.
Maybe a dozen were on him, but over a hundred were convening on the center of all the noise. Drawn to the sound of combat, they shambled and stumbled onward, looking for the prey. Seeing the oncomers, Kite waded over to a car, earning himself a deep laceration to the neck on his way. Grin showing blood from a cut lip, he took up the heap of metal and technology and hoisted it from the ground. A moment and shove later, the vehicle surged into the horde, splaying bodies and a few appendages alike about.
A pair of shots rang out as the creatures landed in front of Masato; the gunslinger swiftly putting the beasts down without so much as a glance at their broken forms. No, his attention was focused on something far more pressing.
Another flash of arcane energy emanated from the Major as Kite shoved the car forward -- briefly illuminating the cabin of the weaponized vehicle before, with another loud ‘pop’ a pair of bodies appeared next to the agent. Thankfully, the gunslinger had managed to extricate the occupants of the car before they were crushed by the reckless, platinum-haired maniac.
Now empty, the hulking chunk of metal and glass tumbled end over end down the cleared center of the highway, splattering a handful of the shadowy creatures in its path before grinding to a halt.
An eerie silence fell over the freeway as the crushed vehicle slid to its final resting place; panicked gazes peering at the scene from the windows of the cars parked nearby. At that moment, any hope the Major had about quickly and safely containing these things was dashed. All it took was one engine revving to life, one asshole making a bad choice to start the mob going. One by one, the vehicles that lined the sides of the highway began to move as civilians tried frantically to get as far away from the car-chucking psychopath as possible.
“Great,” the gunslinger mused, directing his agents to round up the clearly-shaken occupants of the thrown car. “Just goddamn great.”
The startlingly pigmented youth seemed altogether bemused by the situation, at least at first. He stood, staring blankly at the heroics of Masato as vehicles whipped by him at ever increasing rates. Then, snapping out of the stupor he did two things.
First, he clotheslined a hollow. As it sped by atop the roof of a fleeing car, the sinewy fighter managed to show his ‘ups’, meager as they were, to gain about twelve inches of extra vertical base. Counter to that lackluster demonstration, however, was a show of athletic prowess in the honored art of beating the shit out of things. His body lurched forward in the air and his right arm, still somewhat mangled, flung out and decapitated his foe through its face. That was enough to dissolve the form and send that particular monstrosity back to elsewhere.
Second, as he landed in a crouch before a speeding sports car, he grinned. Not what one would expect someone to do in the face of death and at least certain disfigurement. The grin persisted, however, as a sudden and violent shockwave erupted from Kite’s body, shooting under the car and sending it airborne: just barely enough to cover his diving prone form. And perfectly aligned to land on one of the monsters skulking up behind him.
Oddly, that one nearly managed to tumble out of the way of the surprise attack. Hoisting himself up, he called through the chaos of screeching wheels and the doppler effect of speeding vehicles to the military looking fellows.
“Hey. You going to stand there or shoot some bad guys?”
With a flash of arcane energy, the gunslinger dove into the fray. Thick soled combat boots dug into the steel undercarriage of the airborne vehicle as the Major teleported nearer to Kite. Gripping the frame of the errant automobile and digging his boots in deeper, the agent twisted; utilizing his superhuman strength to right the vehicle before it came crashing down on the highway’s shoulder.
Another burst of reiatsu signaled the Major’s timely exit -- flashing from beneath the now-totaled car and appearing on the roof of a nearby transport truck moving at breakneck speed down the frantic freeway.
Heaving from the effort exerted in his improvised rescue, the gunslinger drew his twin pistols. Twirling the pair of weapons about in elegant arcs as he zeroed in on his target, the amber-eyed ace stared daggers at the platinum-haired man. Leveling his firearms, the agent let loose, sending streaks of hot lead through the scores of pale hollows and speeding towards Kite.
Masato wouldn’t let this maniac escape again.
“You fucking idiot, I’m not the bad guy!” It was all Kite was able to scream as his arms flew up, too late to stop the first shot. Deflecting off the queer internals of one of the numerous hollows, the bullet ricocheted right into the youth’s skull. Too quick to stop before he plunged head first into a passing coupe.
Shattering the glass of the rear window, the eerie figure was out of sight for a moment, but his departure was quickly shown to be premature. Erupting through the roof of the car, Kite lumbered onto the roof, glaring at Masato. Bullets continued to fly. However, his choice of base was unstable, the driver panicking at the sight of a psychopath tearing apart his car after hitching a ride, and the prospect of deadly lead or worse ripping through all about him. The car swerved, and when it came all too close to the truck that was the General’s perch, a flash of platinum was all that was seen of Kite diving into the trailer, through the trailer.
“Shoot this, cocksucker,” growled far too soft to surpass the chaos of the environment. In an instant, the roof of the trailer bowed, buckled, and then snapped, exploding shrapnel and releasing a surge of huge kinetic power upwards.
Blue eyes stared up at the result, intent on revenge as they watched the armed soldier.
Leaping from the trailer as it exploded from the sheer force of the platinum-haired man’s strike, Masato rolled with the blow, allowing the kinetic energy to push him free of the flying, shredded steel.
Landing deftly on the roof of a nearby car, the gunslinger dropped to a knee, holding on with a white-knuckled grip as the hapless driver swerved frantically. Arcs of coalesced spiritual energy radiated from the man’s form as his post-human powers manifested in full.
A lone, crystalline shard thrumming with arcane power blinked into being in the gunslinger’s wake. At his mental whim, the prismatic construct floated silently to his front, bobbing up and down between himself and Kite.
Amber eyes narrowed as he waited for the moment the rogue advent appeared from the veil of smoke and shrapnel he’d created. All it would take was one moment, one heartbeat, one bullet. Once Kite was suitably incapacitated, Masato could focus on the more pressing matter of clearing the highway of Hollows -- but nothing was going to get done if this madman was left to continue his rampage.
“C’mon, you bastard.”
Concealed by the plate metal of the trailer, the inexperienced warrior had a moment to gather his thoughts. He risked a glimpse through the hole he had created, and was greeted by a sight he didn’t understand, but what was clearly his adversary’s own power. His eyes fell closed for a moment, considering the predicament he was in.
Sweat rolled down the pale skin of his face, a soft breath coming with it as wounds slowly closed over his body. A second to breath, a moment for everything to solidify in his mind. It took just about as long for Kite to execute the plan.
A bright, white glow rose up and enveloped his form, while his own flesh faded and distorted in reality. Arms reached out and gripped the floor of the trailer bed, punching through the sheet metal flooring and gripping with fantastic might.
Half a breath to pause, avoiding the heightened panic reflex that might come with it, then...
He pulled. Kite’s arms ripped at the steel of the bed. He pushed. Legs exploded out to send rippling bows of metal behind him. All in order to propel the youth forward with a velocity to put any other form of locomotion to shame. The sheer force of the action had caused the trailer to buck and jump from its jack, resulting in a tumbling metal rectangle flopping on the highway.
His own body had become a mass driver, and the target was a yellow mini van behind the trailer.
The impact caused severe damage to both: Kite could feel his shoulder, arm, and ribs all break. But the result was spectacular. Flipping end over end, the van tumbled over his form as he kicked out with both legs, then pushed with all the power he could muster from his ghostly gift.
The pressure created a bowing noise, and more importantly sent the van and its passengers vaulting back over front with vengeance towards the perched commander.
Save them, or save yourself.
Amber eyes narrowed to slits as the vehicle hurtled towards him. Muscles flexed as the gunslinger crouched low, reiatsu flooding through every fibre of his being. Perception of time slowed as the advent’s post-human powers bolstered his consciousness. With a mighty push, the agent leapt from his moving perch, sending the earthbound vehicle skidding from the road and out of harms way. Careening for the airborne van, the gunslinger gritted his teeth.
The hunk of flying steel hit hard, practically shattering the man’s left shoulder as it met the weaponized vehicle mid-air. Only his post-human ruggedness had saved his body from utter obliteration at the hands of the platinum-haired maniac. Cringing as the burning hot undercarriage singed his flesh, Masato tried to keep his focus.
C’mon, c’mon! He pleaded mentally, begging his own body to hold together as his feet hit pavement. Skidding backwards from the sheer force with which the van had been thrown, the gunslinger dug his heels in, desperately trying to slow the vehicle’s advance. Sparks sprayed from beneath the hunk of metal as its mangled frame dragged along the freeway. Finally, with a muted crunch, the agent’s back slammed against a guardrail, bringing the runaway van to a halt. Though the man couldn’t vouch for the condition of the occupants, he knew that at the very least they weren’t dead.
That was more than he could say for himself, however.
Stumbling out from behind the twisted wreckage, the gunslinger’s body was battered, broken and bleeding -- a testament to the strength of his adversary as well as his own pigheadedness. His left arm in particular had been mangled by Kite’s vulgar display of power and hung limply at his side.
The pain was intense, but not unfamiliar. Banishing the sensation to the recesses of his mind, Masato focused on the issue at hand. With a flash of arcane energy, he leapt back into the fray. Appearing atop another transport trailer near to Kite, the gunslinger prepared for another clash.
What met him however, was far from what he expected.
Dripping, fanged maws lunged at him as soon as he landed; a trio of dishevelled hollows trying to make a meal of the weakened Major. With a flick of his wrist, the gunslinger loosed three rounds, quickly silencing the foul beasts. The situation was much more dire than he’d imagined. Peering across the sea of vehicles, the agent could make out the shadowy forms of hollows dotting the highway as far as the eye could see.
It seemed the horde had caught up to them.
Almost a reflection of the adversary before him, Kite had found his feet during the mayhem of his attempted vehicular manslaughter. His right arm was limp, resting against his side as cold blue eyes narrowed and fixated on the ruined form of his opponent. All the while, it seemed the youthful psychopath had forgotten the danger of standing on a freeway full of panicking drivers.
A car swerved and veered away from his position, driver screaming at both Kite and the phantom dangers that were creating chaos all about them. In turn, the warrior in the now shredded tank top flew. Somehow, as the car passed, the platinum-haired and injured fighter gained its speed. His body, some times skidding behind and shredding quickly the soles of his shoes, drew closer to the green sedan before gaining an unsteady perch.
Impossible, even with yelling, to talk to another person moving at that speed and in such an odd position Kite resorted to a more primal language. Sign language. Using his good arm, though the other was quickly mending, the middle finger was prominently displayed to the Agent after the hollows atop the trailer were toppled.
“Bastard,” Masato sneered, sprinting along the top of the transport trailer. Around him, scores of the shadowy hollows were appearing. Skidding to a halt near the front of the truck, the agent heaved a sigh of frustration. The trailer carrying the platinum-haired man was quickly speeding out of Masato’s reach. Pressing a finger to his ear, the Major barked orders into his comm.
“This is Fujikawa. I need teams delta and bravo up here immediately. Gamma and Epsilon, focus on suppression. I want these hollows gone.”
In short order, a pair of Orpheus’ vehicles sped up to the gunslinger’s position, flanking the truck on either side. Leaping from the transport trailer, the agent landed deftly atop one of the personnel carriers.
“Get me nearer to that truck!” he barked through the open hatch, gesturing towards Kite with his good arm. “Once I’m off I want your team to focus on extrication. Get these people off the damn highway!”
With a nod, the driver sped up, weaving through the frantic lanes of traffic and flanking the platinum-haired maniac’s vehicle. Crouching low, Masato leapt onto the trailer. Landing in a roll, both weapons drawn, the agent immediately rattled off a volley of shots -- aimed not at Kite, but the shadowy creatures surrounding him. Quickly mowing down as many of the beasts as he could, the Major yelled over the roar of the freeway.
“Stand down!” he barked, steadying his aim over the man’s vitals. “You don’t like me and I sure as hell don’t like you, but if we keep this up, innocent people are going to die!”
Around them, more shadowy hollows began to claw their way up the side of the trailer.
“Goddamnit!” the gunslinger hissed, quickly reloading. It seemed that there was no time to reason with the platinum-haired man. The more of these things he killed, the faster they seemed to show up, and the more voracious they became. Gunning down more of the creatures as they tried to climb onto the truck, the agent only hoped Kite understood the situation they’d put themselves in.
If they didn’t do something soon, it would be more than just their lives on the line.
The psychopath in question cracked a large grin, the expression made all the more maniacal from the blood that had washed his face. Blood that had spurted free from the bullet wound in his forehead. A wound that somehow, the advent had been able to carry on through.
Instead of responding immediately, the lean muscles adorning the youth’s lean frame flexed and tensed as he eased down, fingers punching through the steel plating atop the tracker trailer.
“All I ever wanted was for you goons to stop shooting at me,” it was a hiss, punctuated by the strain of the effort the awakened warrior was making. An effort that seemed to accentuate the increase of vibrant white reiatsu that was coursing from his form, and in part, infusing it: casting him in a somewhat phantasmal and eerie state.
It was likely no surprise, given the potency Kite had displayed in his earlier impromptu attack, that the metal gave way. What was likely surprising was how much of it it did. Nearly all of the roof had been torn free, and rather than toss it aside, it was turned into a weapon. Body twisting and with a roar of exertion, Kite swung the jagged and massive weapon, clearing off a score of the closing demons, along with a number of undesired amputations and decapitations.
Coalesced arcs of reiatsu radiated from the agents form as the very ground on which he stood was torn out from under him. There was no time to think, only act. Flooding his body with post-human energies, the gunslinger felt an exhilarating rush of power; only a physical body in tune with the spiritual realm could hope to accomplish the feats required. Concentrating the reiatsu towards his feet, the agent -- still perched atop the weaponized trailer -- began to run seemingly oblivious to the motion of the sheet metal, sprinting towards its wielder as he began to cleave through the hollow hordes.
Around the gunslinger, the prismatic shard of his awakening began to hiss and glow before, with a blast of spiritual energy, the crystalline construct divided -- splitting into seven identical fragments of arcane splendor.
Yuusou Taryoukyou.
Tumbling over the platinum-haired man, Masato landed on the cab of the truck with both weapons bared and ready. Willing his awakening apart, each of the seven fragments sped for nearby vehicles. Reaching for the secondary trigger of his weapon, the agent took aim at the nearest shard and fired -- launching a concussive blast through the fragment. On cue, each of the seven shards belched forth a blast of reiatsu-laden air -- shoving the vehicles in front of the agent and Kite onto the highway’s shoulder and leaving a clear path down the center of the road.
Clear, except for the shadowy hollows, of course
Raising his weapon, the fragments of his post-human power snapped back together in front of Masato. Taking an extra moment to insure his aim was perfect, the gunslinger fired a single round. The bright blue beam generated by Orpheus’ signature Lawbringer round -- while powerful in its own right -- couldn’t hold a candle to what came next. Yuusou Taryoukyou seethed with reiatsu as the agent’s power took hold, absorbing the comparatively small blast generated by the gunslinger’s weapon and multiplying it to the enth degree -- spewing forth a cataclysmic pillar of radiant energy that lit up the evening sky. Tearing down the highway, the beam of coalesced light and spiritual power quickly vaporized a number of the shadowy beings, cutting a burning swathe through the horde and leaving naught but ash in its wake.
Ejecting the lump of liquid metal that formerly encapsulated the bullet from his firearm, Masato shot a cocky grin over his shoulder at the platinum-haired man.
One hundred against two, bodies broken and with as many innocent lives on the line. This man let loose a tremendous display of power and it seemed to Kite that this was the time to do the same. Casually as a child leaping from a swing set, the platinum haired warrior fell to the concrete pavement, the road itself buckling and sending out webs of fractures and breaks as the entirety of the kinetic energy from the motion was forced upon it and washed over the youth without effect.
His arms lowered, eyes briefly fell closed in the seconds of gap created in the shadowy swath of demonic horrors. And finally, the whole of his spiritual power was unleashed. The sheer pressure of restraining it for so long caused the raw flood of power to manifest with dire force as the chains were broken, ghostly white flames of essence erupting in a fountain of vibrant display. The cracked street below him yielded, sending meteorites of propelled concrete in a dizzying fan all about. The trailer so recently abandoned skidded and blew aside as if merely a leaf on a tree caught in the gale power of a storm. His form shifted and warped, living in the sheer power of the dead and casting his own form to match. Becoming translucent, all of his features distorting and warping to become as a spirit itself, what remained as a pyre of reiatsu and at its core a wraith from the darkest recesses of humanity’s heart.
A second later eyes of ice, the cold grip of death itself made manifest, snapped open. The shadows fell upon him, surging with zeal kindled by the taste of power that could be theirs. But this abomination was a wall unyielding, where his feet touched would never be ground lost. The first ten scrambled towards on all fours, leaping high and cutting low to pounce and overcome, but in an instant all but two were sent in a haphazard, grotesque display violently away from the bastion of Kite. Two, for reasons not apparent, instead hung in the air as their kin recoiled away. But they did not stay long. Their bodies cracking as they met with inhuman strength, strength beyond that of even the spiritual world, organs and ichor coated the street as appendages broke free.
Grin splitting the pale, blood caked lips, Kite charged forward into the thick of them.
Twisting on his heel, the agent fired off round after round, squinting against the brilliant pyre of energy that engulfed Kite. Bullets tore through shadowy bodies left and right, while behind, the dark beings were being culled en masse by the platinum-haired wraith.
Still, with every individual slain, the whole seemed to be getting stronger. With every beast felled, the horde grew more voracious and deadly. It was a war of attrition, and they were on the losing side.
Suddenly, something slammed into the side of the gunslinger, sending him reeling from the cab of the truck and skidding along the asphalt. One of the emboldened beasts had finally got his number, sinking its teeth deep into his already wounded arm. Tumbling along the pavement, grappling with the shadowy creature, the agent reached for the combat knife in his boot. Gripping the cold steel handle tightly, Masato in one swift motion, drew the blade and jammed it into the skull of the hollow. Retracting it, he lanced out again and again, trying to loosen the beasts grip on his arm until finally, with a twist, he wrenched free of the creature.
Rising to his feet, the gunslinger grimaced. Blood poured in crimson streams from deep wounds on his mostly non-functional left arm. Redoubling his efforts to mend the wound with reiatsu, the agent retrieved the gun he’d lost in his bout with the creature. There was no time to worry about himself.
With a flash of arcane energy, the gunslinger appeared next to Kite, who was still tearing through the hordes of shadowy hollows. Around them, Orpheus vehicles continued to corral civilians from the highway. The ravenous hollows however, perhaps emboldened by their overwhelming numbers, directed their hunger towards those fleeing the highway.
“Shit!” the gunslinger spat as the horde began to engulf a convoy of Orpheus vehicles. Gunshots rang out as the beasts swarmed over the carriers, accompanied by the frantic calls for help over Masato’s radio. Cursing his inability as the convoy moved further from his reach, the major sprinted towards his unwilling ally. Losing a volley of shots, the gunslinger quickly downed a handful of the shadowy creatures surrounding Kite, skidding to a halt beside the platinum-haired monster.
“I’ve gotta get up there!” he barked, gesturing towards the convoy with his good arm. “Throw me!”
“I hope you can fly,” the voice more unnatural than even the presence of demons among them. It was terse, delivered in the chaos of melee, and coated in the carrying noises of rending flesh and breaking bone. Most of it the beasts, some of it the battered youth’s. A wiry arm, all together strong for a human’s, but seeming nothing more than that, snaked out and took hold of the gunslinger’s tactical straps, adorned with demonic ichor as they snaked over his vest.
For a moment the senses shifted all about the youth. Light bent and bowed about his shape, sound curved and sent echoes of the carnage his left hand wrought through the shattering teeth and spine of a demon, and for just a moment, everything near the tattered warrior seemed to draw towards him.
Should only break a bone, he started to think as his arm ripped through space, launching the frame of his adversary and ally into a crisp arc towards the roof of the furthest carrier. And means my time is coming to an end. He had never used this in a real battle before, but Kite knew all too well from testing his own limits that as of now, time worked against him with the passing of each grain through the hourglass.
It was then the concrete seemed to vaporize, pulverized forms of demons scattering out to form a chartreuse canvas for the slate gray of the scant remains of the highway. And with nothing to stand on, the undying man, carved with wound and wrong to his body, plummeted out of sight along with a half dozen straggling demos.
Battered, bruised and bleeding, the gunslinger had had received more than his fair share of punishment during the battle, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer force imparted on him by the platinum-haired wraith’s post-human power.
Even restrained, the sheer acceleration of Kite’s throw forced the air from Masato’s lungs in a mighty gasp, his battered form nearly crushed by the sheer forward momentum of the act. Gritting his teeth, the Major focused only on his goal. Below him, he could see the convoy still trundling along the freeway with Hollows in tow. A string of muted cursed sounded from the agent, barely audible over the roar of the wind in his ears, as he sailed clear past the group of vehicles. Kite had overshot his mark. Spiritual energies surged through the gunslinger’s body as the pavement rushed up to meet him; senses enhanced by post-human power slowing his perception of time to a crawl. With a flash of reiatsu, the combined form of Yuusou Taryoukyou blinked into being beneath him, their crystalline cells thrumming with power.
Either this would work, or he’d be in for one hell of a landing.
In a flash, the cells split apart, a cluster orbiting back to face the approaching convoy, while their counterparts remained below Masato. All at once, time jumped back into focus as the gunslinger’s bolstered perception of time faded, leaving only a scant few moments for him to let out one final curse as his body collided with the glowing construct.
A dull ‘whomp’ sounded as his form passed through the ethereal shards, emerging almost instantly from the cells above with his momentum intact. Letting out a roar as he streaked back towards the horde, the Gunslinger leveled his firearm with the nearest cluster of Hollows and fired, picking off as many of the foul creatures as he could before slamming into the nearest Orpheus transport. Tires screeched and glass shattered as the agent’s form dug into the metal shell of the vehicle, with nothing more than a thin veil of spiritual energy protecting his body from utter ruin.
There was no time for him to get his bearings. Behind the convoy, the hollows had begun to gather, drawn in by the collective spiritual force of he and his agents.
Perfect.
Leveling his weapon, the seven cells of Yuusou Taryoukou snapped into formation, orbiting around the mass of beasts -- a herald to the final expression of Masato’s post-human power. Taking one final moment to steady his aim, the Gunslinger exhaled and pulled the trigger.
All at once, the crystalline form of his awakening erupted; a massive pillar of radiant energy exploding outward and upward, parting the earth below and the clouds overhead as, one by one, the shadowy creatures were cleansed from this plane of existence by purifying light.
Masato’s trump card, his ultimate show of power. Shougeki Reikon.
The swoosh that carried lightly, rebuffed by the overwhelming sounds of gunfire, and something altogether more, likely did not carry to reach the battered Major. It was a gentle cue, as subtle as the shift of hazy debris that cluttered the air from the freeways collapse. But the arrival of the wraith once more was nothing short of spectacular. Plummeting back to earth with a cloak of reiatsu that made him seem more meteorite than man, his impact splayed out the concrete at his feet, rippling out force and threatening to destroy yet more of the roadway: but it held.
The words offered were abrupt, but as to the point as one could hope, “Hold on to something.” It was a general order, given to everyone who could hear his wraithen voice. And then, with the might of Atlas himself, arms spectral and born of flesh gave a push to the apcs, packed with civilians and military alike.
They glided along at a glorious speed, as if the combustion engine within them was thrumming at its full power, even if it had been long disabled.
For his choice to clear out those in danger though, Kite paid a price. All about him the remaining dozen of the shadowy beasts, far more predacious and capable then when they seemed to be innumerate, wreaked havoc on his form. To show his quality, he paid in blood. His hamstrings were cut by blows that would have taken the leg of anyone else, his triceps rent by thirsty claws that should have amputated his arms at the elbows. His body collapsed into the slump of submission, even if his will was unbroken.
To achieve revenge, he sacrificed the towering construction of man. Two arms snapped out and gripped the freeway bridge, and flung it. Tearing off a whole section of the elevated road, he used it as a tool of harvest, reaping the bodies of the few remaining beasts. For his efforts, he found that only one remained.
But it was one too many for Kite. His body, even having lost touched with the physical world, was crumbling. His power, so hastily used to try and save even one more life if possible, was dry. In seconds, all of his strength would leave him, and this single beast would be more than a match.
Platinum blue eyes watched as it darted towards him with a speed previously unseen in them, maw opening and gluttonous craw exposed as it sought not his body, but his very soul. Arms formed of his connection to the plane between curled back, trying to make up for the failed flesh of his tangible ones, but they simply could not recover in time from the heaving of the freeway.
He stood on two precipices: the edge of the destruction he had wrought, and the end of life itself. Neither seemed welcoming.
And as the ‘undying man’ teetered on the precipice, gravity eager to put the monster’s epithet to the test, a hand reached out. Bloodied and broken, it grabbed hold of Kite. His legend would not die today.
“Fuck!” Masato bellowed as the surprising weight of the lanky human pulled on his broken left arm. Gritting his teeth, he held fast, stubbornly refusing to relinquish the grip he had on the man. Pulling with all the might he could muster, the Gunslinger flung Kite’s limp form unceremoniously from the edge of the precipice he himself had created.
Cringing as waves of pain wracked his senses, Masato turned his gaze to the last of the Hollows. The beast too, seemed to acknowledge his stare, letting out a deep and guttural cry. Digging its feet deep into the cracked asphalt, the Hollow charged, rampaging towards the battered Major with killing intent.
Shakily, Masato raised his lone revolver to face the beast. His last attack, his final attack, had taken more out of him than he’d care to admit. He could only hope he had enough to finish this last mongrel. Otherwise, well...
‘There’s no sense worrying about it now.’ the gunslinger chided inwardly. ‘...Just focus.’
Taking a breath, the Major leveled his barrel with the advancing Hollow’s vitals and fired.
Click.
“Well shit.” he breathed aloud. Too weary to even move, Masato could only watch as the ramaging beast closed on him.
With a snap, a myriad of spotlights flashed into existence bathing the ruined highway in piercing white light. The sound of screeching tires and boots on concrete echoed around him as one by one, the remaining Orpheus fire teams surrounded the startled Hollow.
A grin played across Masato’s bloodied face as he heard dozens of bolts snap back in glorious harmony, before a cacophony of fully-automatic gunfire raged across the battleground and heralded the brutal defeat of Orpheus’ final foe.
“Sir, are you alright?!” one of the fireteam leaders barked to Masato, waving for assistance. “...I need combat medics on my position. The Major’s down.”
“Belay that,” Masato hissed into his comm, making a futile attempt to struggle to his feet. “...Where’s the kid? That white-haired brat.”
“Delta squadron has him surrounded, sir.” the agent let out cautiously. “...Your orders, sir?”
“I swear to the god that is not watching today, I will use your entrails as a condom while I fuck your skull.” It was an empty threat from a broken warrior, laying face down on the ruin of the road he had savaged. Delta squad did not seem impressed, and simply kept the barrels of their customized, spiritually capable armaments leveled on the once colossal threat. Each and every man and women there knew that such monsters do not long lie dormant, and it was only a matter of time before this shattered husk rose up to become a threat anew.
For now, his ascended form had left him, and the bleeding had stopped. Though his body was torn and broken, he would not expire of exsanguination. But, in a word, Kite was tired. His enormous pool of power was dry, his body had spent the whole of its resources to keep functioning, and there was nothing left to reinforce it. He was just a nineteen year old young man, battered and war torn, hissing vacant and futile anger at the situation he himself had brought on.
“Pack him up,” the Major breathed through gritted teeth as a combat medic attempted to reset his mangled arm. “...But don’t harm him. He’s done us a service. I don’t think I’d have beeable to deal with those Hollows without his help. We owe him.”
Struggling to his feet with the help of his comrades, the battered agent hobbled into a nearby personnel carrier. Pressing a finger to his ear, Masato barked orders into his comm.
“Bring him in for questioning, I’ll have headquarters get a cell prepped.”
Peering out the open door as the vehicle slowly trundled past Kite, Masato met the kid’s gaze once last time before the carrier sped back to the tower.
Masato knew there were monsters in the world...but he wasn’t sure which of the ones he’d met today frightened him more.
[7361]
Kite - Van
Masato - Sev
Masato - Sev
What a strange scene it was. One of man’s great pillars of society, a piece of infrastructure used to elevated the animal from the depths of a primal structure to a cultured and endowed existence. Yet this road had no one traveling upon it. Six lanes, filled with vehicles, yet not a soul was moving on it. Beholding such a sight caused the spectator, a youthful figure adorned with a platinum crop of short hair, to pause and take in the sight for a moment.
He was perched on the guardrail of the freeway, surveying the dead road and trying to figure out why, exactly it was dead. For most of the time Kite felt the presence of one of the demons, humans did not. They did not react to its presence, nor the feeling of its presence, and most certainly no administrative authority was used to curtail its attempting feeding habits. Yet this time, when he eventually arrived on the scene of the sensation, it was utterly quarantined. All the trappings of humanity remained but no humans to be found.
“Thank fucking god,” he spat out into the air, knowing no ears would hear it. The reason for his praise was simple: when he fought things tended to get blown up, crushed, thrown, or worse. And when people were about trying not to catch them in the crossfire just made it less enjoyable. Now, though, the youth could beat the hell out of whatever pissant demon decided to come to his doorstep this day and not have to hold back.
With a little hop, dust kicked up about the advent’s landing spot and the youth trudged forward; shedding his coat with a shrug of his shoulders. He tossed the garment behind himself, to flop down and settle on the rail and expose his sinewy frame restrained by a tanktop and cargo pants. Blue eyes slowly migrated over the dead terrain, searching for the beast.
The trouble with no humans around, was that there was no attempted eating or mutilating to easily point out where he should direct his fists. “God damn it,” the dead man muttered.
Much to the (eventual) chagrin of the ivory-headed man, the roadway was not as deserted as it initially appeared. In fact, the very reason why the youth could so joyously and carelessly cavort amongst the stationary vehicles might prove to be his undoing.
A deep, low rumble like thunder reverberated across the stagnant highway; the tell-tale thrumming of a powerful diesel engine. On the edge of the horizon, one could just barely make out a convoy of bulbous, black-and-white personnel carriers trundling down the freeway towards Kite. As they neared, the rather blatant insignia came into view – bold black contrasted against the bright ivory side panels of the strange vehicles. On each flank, they were marked with “UN” – something that in this particular instance no doubt referred to the United Nations. It was the branding on the hood however, that usually stood out to beings like Kite: a lyre.
The Orpheus Initiative had arrived on the scene.
As the vehicles bobbed close and closer to the platinum-haired man, one of the occupants caught notice of him. Almost immediately, a loud-speaker crackled to life.
“Sir, please remain in your car. We'll have you all moving shortly.” the agent chortled, waving for his truck to stop alongside Kite. “Please return to your–“
Unexpectedly the agent paused, catching a glimpse of someone else in his peripheral vision.
“Another one?” he could be heard muttering to his colleagues through the speaker. “Don't these people listen?”
“Ahem. Excuse me, sir!” he called, spinning to face the newcomer. “Please return to your vehicle!”
The second arrival however, trudged along oblivious to his prattling. It wasn't until the person came nearer that the agent realized exactly who, or rather what it was.
The creature was featureless – pitch black, like a shadow – all except for that mouth. Hung open in a constant gape, the vaguely humanoid thing bore a prominent, fang-filled maw. Shuffling closer, it became apparent that the creature wasn't exactly in the best of shape, either. Gashes, cuts, missing limbs – the thing seemed to be falling apart.
Reaching for his radio, the agent heaved a sigh.
“All units report contact. Repeat, all units report contact.” he muttered into the microphone, eying the shadowy beast as it staggered towards the truck. “I've got a Hollow here, I think, but it's beat up pretty bad. Did someone get here before–“
The man trailed off again as the others came into view. Ten, twenty, thirty – they just seemed to keep coming – stumbling out from behind cars, crawling out of culverts, slowly swarming over the highway.
“Code black.” the agent amended, barking anxiously into his radio. “Repeat, code black. We need to get this road cleared of civilians now.”
Listening to the man, it seemed as if Kite had balked. He stood, silent and with a oddly unflinching gaze leveled on the transport. However, behind the veil of the stupor, the young man was gripped with indecision. Should he flip them off? Should he start pissing on their vehicle? Maybe he should tip it over? So many options and ways to express his displeasure at this asshat butting in, but what would be best?
The questions were put on pause as the hollow, no, hollows, began to reveal themselves. It was no surprise all the young spiritualist could sense was some pathetic, weak thing looking to eat the invalids and cripples: the first to arrive seemed too meager to even bother with. As his gaze panned over to focus on the new object of attention, the seriously unfortunate nature of his position became apparent. He wasn’t here to put a beatdown on some laugh-worthy piece of shit demon. A horde of them were here to tear him limb from limb.
Maniacal grin breaking out on his face, the platinum youth leaned forward and charged in. “Better start shooting for your lives, pussies!” In a sea of quivering and starved shadow, the specter waded with savagery. Fanged mouths latching to his limbs even as they struck another of the infesting kind, it seemed the young man would be overcome.
“Wait, what the--” the befuddled agent sputtered as the ivory-headed man dove headlong into the growing horde of Hollows. “Oh goddamn it!”
Retreating back into the personnel carrier, the man once again grasped at his radio.
“We’ve got a situation. Route one near Old Tokaido. Some crazy guy just jumped into a bunch of Hollows. I repeat, we have a spiritually aware civilian on Route one near Old Tokaido.”
Pausing, the agent waited eagerly for a reply. A moment later, the radio’s speaker crackled to life, a familiar, authoritative voice booming through the cramped cab.
“Can we get a positive identification on him?” the male voice seethed, irritation evident in his tone. “Is it one of Cerberus’ boys?”
“No sir.” the agent sputtered craning his neck around to get another glance at the white-haired psychopath. “Our records are coming up blank. He’s not from Cerberus, and we haven’t been able to match him with any known civilian Advents in the system. What should we do, sir?”
A brief moment passed, during which the voice on the other end of the radio could be heard audibly sighing.
“Hold position. I’m on my way.”
A heartbeat later, arcs of coalesced spiritual energy began to radiate from the area where Kite had been standing. A static whine began to build, momentarily overpowering even the rumbling of the Orpheus carrier’s engines before -- with a ‘pop’ -- another figure appeared on the highway.
Striding towards the crazed Advent, the duster-clad man heaved a smoke-filled sigh -- a lit cigarette bobbing up and down between his lips as he spoke.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The youth responded with a continuing laugh. Amidst a horde of enemies, it seemed he was having the time of his life. A pair of them had latched on to his right arm, attempting to bite and claw at it as he desperately struggled against several more with lashes of his foot and left fist. Somehow, this maniac was enduring.
His body seeping with a white, faint aura, it seemed to deter and repel tooth and claw, where open wounds and bones might be showing, only deep cuts were placed. And even those, slowly but surely seemed to vanish from his form, even as new ones were earned. Spinning rapidly, the platinum haired combatant launched the pair at his new compatriot, their forms flying by and into a heap near Masato’s feet. Yet, their masks not broken despite their bodies being so, the demons slowly began to stagger up, letting out a droning noise of agitation.
Maybe a dozen were on him, but over a hundred were convening on the center of all the noise. Drawn to the sound of combat, they shambled and stumbled onward, looking for the prey. Seeing the oncomers, Kite waded over to a car, earning himself a deep laceration to the neck on his way. Grin showing blood from a cut lip, he took up the heap of metal and technology and hoisted it from the ground. A moment and shove later, the vehicle surged into the horde, splaying bodies and a few appendages alike about.
A pair of shots rang out as the creatures landed in front of Masato; the gunslinger swiftly putting the beasts down without so much as a glance at their broken forms. No, his attention was focused on something far more pressing.
Another flash of arcane energy emanated from the Major as Kite shoved the car forward -- briefly illuminating the cabin of the weaponized vehicle before, with another loud ‘pop’ a pair of bodies appeared next to the agent. Thankfully, the gunslinger had managed to extricate the occupants of the car before they were crushed by the reckless, platinum-haired maniac.
Now empty, the hulking chunk of metal and glass tumbled end over end down the cleared center of the highway, splattering a handful of the shadowy creatures in its path before grinding to a halt.
An eerie silence fell over the freeway as the crushed vehicle slid to its final resting place; panicked gazes peering at the scene from the windows of the cars parked nearby. At that moment, any hope the Major had about quickly and safely containing these things was dashed. All it took was one engine revving to life, one asshole making a bad choice to start the mob going. One by one, the vehicles that lined the sides of the highway began to move as civilians tried frantically to get as far away from the car-chucking psychopath as possible.
“Great,” the gunslinger mused, directing his agents to round up the clearly-shaken occupants of the thrown car. “Just goddamn great.”
The startlingly pigmented youth seemed altogether bemused by the situation, at least at first. He stood, staring blankly at the heroics of Masato as vehicles whipped by him at ever increasing rates. Then, snapping out of the stupor he did two things.
First, he clotheslined a hollow. As it sped by atop the roof of a fleeing car, the sinewy fighter managed to show his ‘ups’, meager as they were, to gain about twelve inches of extra vertical base. Counter to that lackluster demonstration, however, was a show of athletic prowess in the honored art of beating the shit out of things. His body lurched forward in the air and his right arm, still somewhat mangled, flung out and decapitated his foe through its face. That was enough to dissolve the form and send that particular monstrosity back to elsewhere.
Second, as he landed in a crouch before a speeding sports car, he grinned. Not what one would expect someone to do in the face of death and at least certain disfigurement. The grin persisted, however, as a sudden and violent shockwave erupted from Kite’s body, shooting under the car and sending it airborne: just barely enough to cover his diving prone form. And perfectly aligned to land on one of the monsters skulking up behind him.
Oddly, that one nearly managed to tumble out of the way of the surprise attack. Hoisting himself up, he called through the chaos of screeching wheels and the doppler effect of speeding vehicles to the military looking fellows.
“Hey. You going to stand there or shoot some bad guys?”
With a flash of arcane energy, the gunslinger dove into the fray. Thick soled combat boots dug into the steel undercarriage of the airborne vehicle as the Major teleported nearer to Kite. Gripping the frame of the errant automobile and digging his boots in deeper, the agent twisted; utilizing his superhuman strength to right the vehicle before it came crashing down on the highway’s shoulder.
Another burst of reiatsu signaled the Major’s timely exit -- flashing from beneath the now-totaled car and appearing on the roof of a nearby transport truck moving at breakneck speed down the frantic freeway.
Heaving from the effort exerted in his improvised rescue, the gunslinger drew his twin pistols. Twirling the pair of weapons about in elegant arcs as he zeroed in on his target, the amber-eyed ace stared daggers at the platinum-haired man. Leveling his firearms, the agent let loose, sending streaks of hot lead through the scores of pale hollows and speeding towards Kite.
Masato wouldn’t let this maniac escape again.
“You fucking idiot, I’m not the bad guy!” It was all Kite was able to scream as his arms flew up, too late to stop the first shot. Deflecting off the queer internals of one of the numerous hollows, the bullet ricocheted right into the youth’s skull. Too quick to stop before he plunged head first into a passing coupe.
Shattering the glass of the rear window, the eerie figure was out of sight for a moment, but his departure was quickly shown to be premature. Erupting through the roof of the car, Kite lumbered onto the roof, glaring at Masato. Bullets continued to fly. However, his choice of base was unstable, the driver panicking at the sight of a psychopath tearing apart his car after hitching a ride, and the prospect of deadly lead or worse ripping through all about him. The car swerved, and when it came all too close to the truck that was the General’s perch, a flash of platinum was all that was seen of Kite diving into the trailer, through the trailer.
“Shoot this, cocksucker,” growled far too soft to surpass the chaos of the environment. In an instant, the roof of the trailer bowed, buckled, and then snapped, exploding shrapnel and releasing a surge of huge kinetic power upwards.
Blue eyes stared up at the result, intent on revenge as they watched the armed soldier.
Leaping from the trailer as it exploded from the sheer force of the platinum-haired man’s strike, Masato rolled with the blow, allowing the kinetic energy to push him free of the flying, shredded steel.
Landing deftly on the roof of a nearby car, the gunslinger dropped to a knee, holding on with a white-knuckled grip as the hapless driver swerved frantically. Arcs of coalesced spiritual energy radiated from the man’s form as his post-human powers manifested in full.
A lone, crystalline shard thrumming with arcane power blinked into being in the gunslinger’s wake. At his mental whim, the prismatic construct floated silently to his front, bobbing up and down between himself and Kite.
Amber eyes narrowed as he waited for the moment the rogue advent appeared from the veil of smoke and shrapnel he’d created. All it would take was one moment, one heartbeat, one bullet. Once Kite was suitably incapacitated, Masato could focus on the more pressing matter of clearing the highway of Hollows -- but nothing was going to get done if this madman was left to continue his rampage.
“C’mon, you bastard.”
Concealed by the plate metal of the trailer, the inexperienced warrior had a moment to gather his thoughts. He risked a glimpse through the hole he had created, and was greeted by a sight he didn’t understand, but what was clearly his adversary’s own power. His eyes fell closed for a moment, considering the predicament he was in.
Sweat rolled down the pale skin of his face, a soft breath coming with it as wounds slowly closed over his body. A second to breath, a moment for everything to solidify in his mind. It took just about as long for Kite to execute the plan.
A bright, white glow rose up and enveloped his form, while his own flesh faded and distorted in reality. Arms reached out and gripped the floor of the trailer bed, punching through the sheet metal flooring and gripping with fantastic might.
Half a breath to pause, avoiding the heightened panic reflex that might come with it, then...
He pulled. Kite’s arms ripped at the steel of the bed. He pushed. Legs exploded out to send rippling bows of metal behind him. All in order to propel the youth forward with a velocity to put any other form of locomotion to shame. The sheer force of the action had caused the trailer to buck and jump from its jack, resulting in a tumbling metal rectangle flopping on the highway.
His own body had become a mass driver, and the target was a yellow mini van behind the trailer.
The impact caused severe damage to both: Kite could feel his shoulder, arm, and ribs all break. But the result was spectacular. Flipping end over end, the van tumbled over his form as he kicked out with both legs, then pushed with all the power he could muster from his ghostly gift.
The pressure created a bowing noise, and more importantly sent the van and its passengers vaulting back over front with vengeance towards the perched commander.
Save them, or save yourself.
Amber eyes narrowed to slits as the vehicle hurtled towards him. Muscles flexed as the gunslinger crouched low, reiatsu flooding through every fibre of his being. Perception of time slowed as the advent’s post-human powers bolstered his consciousness. With a mighty push, the agent leapt from his moving perch, sending the earthbound vehicle skidding from the road and out of harms way. Careening for the airborne van, the gunslinger gritted his teeth.
The hunk of flying steel hit hard, practically shattering the man’s left shoulder as it met the weaponized vehicle mid-air. Only his post-human ruggedness had saved his body from utter obliteration at the hands of the platinum-haired maniac. Cringing as the burning hot undercarriage singed his flesh, Masato tried to keep his focus.
C’mon, c’mon! He pleaded mentally, begging his own body to hold together as his feet hit pavement. Skidding backwards from the sheer force with which the van had been thrown, the gunslinger dug his heels in, desperately trying to slow the vehicle’s advance. Sparks sprayed from beneath the hunk of metal as its mangled frame dragged along the freeway. Finally, with a muted crunch, the agent’s back slammed against a guardrail, bringing the runaway van to a halt. Though the man couldn’t vouch for the condition of the occupants, he knew that at the very least they weren’t dead.
That was more than he could say for himself, however.
Stumbling out from behind the twisted wreckage, the gunslinger’s body was battered, broken and bleeding -- a testament to the strength of his adversary as well as his own pigheadedness. His left arm in particular had been mangled by Kite’s vulgar display of power and hung limply at his side.
The pain was intense, but not unfamiliar. Banishing the sensation to the recesses of his mind, Masato focused on the issue at hand. With a flash of arcane energy, he leapt back into the fray. Appearing atop another transport trailer near to Kite, the gunslinger prepared for another clash.
What met him however, was far from what he expected.
Dripping, fanged maws lunged at him as soon as he landed; a trio of dishevelled hollows trying to make a meal of the weakened Major. With a flick of his wrist, the gunslinger loosed three rounds, quickly silencing the foul beasts. The situation was much more dire than he’d imagined. Peering across the sea of vehicles, the agent could make out the shadowy forms of hollows dotting the highway as far as the eye could see.
It seemed the horde had caught up to them.
Almost a reflection of the adversary before him, Kite had found his feet during the mayhem of his attempted vehicular manslaughter. His right arm was limp, resting against his side as cold blue eyes narrowed and fixated on the ruined form of his opponent. All the while, it seemed the youthful psychopath had forgotten the danger of standing on a freeway full of panicking drivers.
A car swerved and veered away from his position, driver screaming at both Kite and the phantom dangers that were creating chaos all about them. In turn, the warrior in the now shredded tank top flew. Somehow, as the car passed, the platinum-haired and injured fighter gained its speed. His body, some times skidding behind and shredding quickly the soles of his shoes, drew closer to the green sedan before gaining an unsteady perch.
Impossible, even with yelling, to talk to another person moving at that speed and in such an odd position Kite resorted to a more primal language. Sign language. Using his good arm, though the other was quickly mending, the middle finger was prominently displayed to the Agent after the hollows atop the trailer were toppled.
“Bastard,” Masato sneered, sprinting along the top of the transport trailer. Around him, scores of the shadowy hollows were appearing. Skidding to a halt near the front of the truck, the agent heaved a sigh of frustration. The trailer carrying the platinum-haired man was quickly speeding out of Masato’s reach. Pressing a finger to his ear, the Major barked orders into his comm.
“This is Fujikawa. I need teams delta and bravo up here immediately. Gamma and Epsilon, focus on suppression. I want these hollows gone.”
In short order, a pair of Orpheus’ vehicles sped up to the gunslinger’s position, flanking the truck on either side. Leaping from the transport trailer, the agent landed deftly atop one of the personnel carriers.
“Get me nearer to that truck!” he barked through the open hatch, gesturing towards Kite with his good arm. “Once I’m off I want your team to focus on extrication. Get these people off the damn highway!”
With a nod, the driver sped up, weaving through the frantic lanes of traffic and flanking the platinum-haired maniac’s vehicle. Crouching low, Masato leapt onto the trailer. Landing in a roll, both weapons drawn, the agent immediately rattled off a volley of shots -- aimed not at Kite, but the shadowy creatures surrounding him. Quickly mowing down as many of the beasts as he could, the Major yelled over the roar of the freeway.
“Stand down!” he barked, steadying his aim over the man’s vitals. “You don’t like me and I sure as hell don’t like you, but if we keep this up, innocent people are going to die!”
Around them, more shadowy hollows began to claw their way up the side of the trailer.
“Goddamnit!” the gunslinger hissed, quickly reloading. It seemed that there was no time to reason with the platinum-haired man. The more of these things he killed, the faster they seemed to show up, and the more voracious they became. Gunning down more of the creatures as they tried to climb onto the truck, the agent only hoped Kite understood the situation they’d put themselves in.
If they didn’t do something soon, it would be more than just their lives on the line.
The psychopath in question cracked a large grin, the expression made all the more maniacal from the blood that had washed his face. Blood that had spurted free from the bullet wound in his forehead. A wound that somehow, the advent had been able to carry on through.
Instead of responding immediately, the lean muscles adorning the youth’s lean frame flexed and tensed as he eased down, fingers punching through the steel plating atop the tracker trailer.
“All I ever wanted was for you goons to stop shooting at me,” it was a hiss, punctuated by the strain of the effort the awakened warrior was making. An effort that seemed to accentuate the increase of vibrant white reiatsu that was coursing from his form, and in part, infusing it: casting him in a somewhat phantasmal and eerie state.
It was likely no surprise, given the potency Kite had displayed in his earlier impromptu attack, that the metal gave way. What was likely surprising was how much of it it did. Nearly all of the roof had been torn free, and rather than toss it aside, it was turned into a weapon. Body twisting and with a roar of exertion, Kite swung the jagged and massive weapon, clearing off a score of the closing demons, along with a number of undesired amputations and decapitations.
Coalesced arcs of reiatsu radiated from the agents form as the very ground on which he stood was torn out from under him. There was no time to think, only act. Flooding his body with post-human energies, the gunslinger felt an exhilarating rush of power; only a physical body in tune with the spiritual realm could hope to accomplish the feats required. Concentrating the reiatsu towards his feet, the agent -- still perched atop the weaponized trailer -- began to run seemingly oblivious to the motion of the sheet metal, sprinting towards its wielder as he began to cleave through the hollow hordes.
Around the gunslinger, the prismatic shard of his awakening began to hiss and glow before, with a blast of spiritual energy, the crystalline construct divided -- splitting into seven identical fragments of arcane splendor.
Yuusou Taryoukyou.
Tumbling over the platinum-haired man, Masato landed on the cab of the truck with both weapons bared and ready. Willing his awakening apart, each of the seven fragments sped for nearby vehicles. Reaching for the secondary trigger of his weapon, the agent took aim at the nearest shard and fired -- launching a concussive blast through the fragment. On cue, each of the seven shards belched forth a blast of reiatsu-laden air -- shoving the vehicles in front of the agent and Kite onto the highway’s shoulder and leaving a clear path down the center of the road.
Clear, except for the shadowy hollows, of course
Raising his weapon, the fragments of his post-human power snapped back together in front of Masato. Taking an extra moment to insure his aim was perfect, the gunslinger fired a single round. The bright blue beam generated by Orpheus’ signature Lawbringer round -- while powerful in its own right -- couldn’t hold a candle to what came next. Yuusou Taryoukyou seethed with reiatsu as the agent’s power took hold, absorbing the comparatively small blast generated by the gunslinger’s weapon and multiplying it to the enth degree -- spewing forth a cataclysmic pillar of radiant energy that lit up the evening sky. Tearing down the highway, the beam of coalesced light and spiritual power quickly vaporized a number of the shadowy beings, cutting a burning swathe through the horde and leaving naught but ash in its wake.
Ejecting the lump of liquid metal that formerly encapsulated the bullet from his firearm, Masato shot a cocky grin over his shoulder at the platinum-haired man.
One hundred against two, bodies broken and with as many innocent lives on the line. This man let loose a tremendous display of power and it seemed to Kite that this was the time to do the same. Casually as a child leaping from a swing set, the platinum haired warrior fell to the concrete pavement, the road itself buckling and sending out webs of fractures and breaks as the entirety of the kinetic energy from the motion was forced upon it and washed over the youth without effect.
His arms lowered, eyes briefly fell closed in the seconds of gap created in the shadowy swath of demonic horrors. And finally, the whole of his spiritual power was unleashed. The sheer pressure of restraining it for so long caused the raw flood of power to manifest with dire force as the chains were broken, ghostly white flames of essence erupting in a fountain of vibrant display. The cracked street below him yielded, sending meteorites of propelled concrete in a dizzying fan all about. The trailer so recently abandoned skidded and blew aside as if merely a leaf on a tree caught in the gale power of a storm. His form shifted and warped, living in the sheer power of the dead and casting his own form to match. Becoming translucent, all of his features distorting and warping to become as a spirit itself, what remained as a pyre of reiatsu and at its core a wraith from the darkest recesses of humanity’s heart.
A second later eyes of ice, the cold grip of death itself made manifest, snapped open. The shadows fell upon him, surging with zeal kindled by the taste of power that could be theirs. But this abomination was a wall unyielding, where his feet touched would never be ground lost. The first ten scrambled towards on all fours, leaping high and cutting low to pounce and overcome, but in an instant all but two were sent in a haphazard, grotesque display violently away from the bastion of Kite. Two, for reasons not apparent, instead hung in the air as their kin recoiled away. But they did not stay long. Their bodies cracking as they met with inhuman strength, strength beyond that of even the spiritual world, organs and ichor coated the street as appendages broke free.
Grin splitting the pale, blood caked lips, Kite charged forward into the thick of them.
Twisting on his heel, the agent fired off round after round, squinting against the brilliant pyre of energy that engulfed Kite. Bullets tore through shadowy bodies left and right, while behind, the dark beings were being culled en masse by the platinum-haired wraith.
Still, with every individual slain, the whole seemed to be getting stronger. With every beast felled, the horde grew more voracious and deadly. It was a war of attrition, and they were on the losing side.
Suddenly, something slammed into the side of the gunslinger, sending him reeling from the cab of the truck and skidding along the asphalt. One of the emboldened beasts had finally got his number, sinking its teeth deep into his already wounded arm. Tumbling along the pavement, grappling with the shadowy creature, the agent reached for the combat knife in his boot. Gripping the cold steel handle tightly, Masato in one swift motion, drew the blade and jammed it into the skull of the hollow. Retracting it, he lanced out again and again, trying to loosen the beasts grip on his arm until finally, with a twist, he wrenched free of the creature.
Rising to his feet, the gunslinger grimaced. Blood poured in crimson streams from deep wounds on his mostly non-functional left arm. Redoubling his efforts to mend the wound with reiatsu, the agent retrieved the gun he’d lost in his bout with the creature. There was no time to worry about himself.
With a flash of arcane energy, the gunslinger appeared next to Kite, who was still tearing through the hordes of shadowy hollows. Around them, Orpheus vehicles continued to corral civilians from the highway. The ravenous hollows however, perhaps emboldened by their overwhelming numbers, directed their hunger towards those fleeing the highway.
“Shit!” the gunslinger spat as the horde began to engulf a convoy of Orpheus vehicles. Gunshots rang out as the beasts swarmed over the carriers, accompanied by the frantic calls for help over Masato’s radio. Cursing his inability as the convoy moved further from his reach, the major sprinted towards his unwilling ally. Losing a volley of shots, the gunslinger quickly downed a handful of the shadowy creatures surrounding Kite, skidding to a halt beside the platinum-haired monster.
“I’ve gotta get up there!” he barked, gesturing towards the convoy with his good arm. “Throw me!”
“I hope you can fly,” the voice more unnatural than even the presence of demons among them. It was terse, delivered in the chaos of melee, and coated in the carrying noises of rending flesh and breaking bone. Most of it the beasts, some of it the battered youth’s. A wiry arm, all together strong for a human’s, but seeming nothing more than that, snaked out and took hold of the gunslinger’s tactical straps, adorned with demonic ichor as they snaked over his vest.
For a moment the senses shifted all about the youth. Light bent and bowed about his shape, sound curved and sent echoes of the carnage his left hand wrought through the shattering teeth and spine of a demon, and for just a moment, everything near the tattered warrior seemed to draw towards him.
Should only break a bone, he started to think as his arm ripped through space, launching the frame of his adversary and ally into a crisp arc towards the roof of the furthest carrier. And means my time is coming to an end. He had never used this in a real battle before, but Kite knew all too well from testing his own limits that as of now, time worked against him with the passing of each grain through the hourglass.
It was then the concrete seemed to vaporize, pulverized forms of demons scattering out to form a chartreuse canvas for the slate gray of the scant remains of the highway. And with nothing to stand on, the undying man, carved with wound and wrong to his body, plummeted out of sight along with a half dozen straggling demos.
Battered, bruised and bleeding, the gunslinger had had received more than his fair share of punishment during the battle, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer force imparted on him by the platinum-haired wraith’s post-human power.
Even restrained, the sheer acceleration of Kite’s throw forced the air from Masato’s lungs in a mighty gasp, his battered form nearly crushed by the sheer forward momentum of the act. Gritting his teeth, the Major focused only on his goal. Below him, he could see the convoy still trundling along the freeway with Hollows in tow. A string of muted cursed sounded from the agent, barely audible over the roar of the wind in his ears, as he sailed clear past the group of vehicles. Kite had overshot his mark. Spiritual energies surged through the gunslinger’s body as the pavement rushed up to meet him; senses enhanced by post-human power slowing his perception of time to a crawl. With a flash of reiatsu, the combined form of Yuusou Taryoukyou blinked into being beneath him, their crystalline cells thrumming with power.
Either this would work, or he’d be in for one hell of a landing.
In a flash, the cells split apart, a cluster orbiting back to face the approaching convoy, while their counterparts remained below Masato. All at once, time jumped back into focus as the gunslinger’s bolstered perception of time faded, leaving only a scant few moments for him to let out one final curse as his body collided with the glowing construct.
A dull ‘whomp’ sounded as his form passed through the ethereal shards, emerging almost instantly from the cells above with his momentum intact. Letting out a roar as he streaked back towards the horde, the Gunslinger leveled his firearm with the nearest cluster of Hollows and fired, picking off as many of the foul creatures as he could before slamming into the nearest Orpheus transport. Tires screeched and glass shattered as the agent’s form dug into the metal shell of the vehicle, with nothing more than a thin veil of spiritual energy protecting his body from utter ruin.
There was no time for him to get his bearings. Behind the convoy, the hollows had begun to gather, drawn in by the collective spiritual force of he and his agents.
Perfect.
Leveling his weapon, the seven cells of Yuusou Taryoukou snapped into formation, orbiting around the mass of beasts -- a herald to the final expression of Masato’s post-human power. Taking one final moment to steady his aim, the Gunslinger exhaled and pulled the trigger.
All at once, the crystalline form of his awakening erupted; a massive pillar of radiant energy exploding outward and upward, parting the earth below and the clouds overhead as, one by one, the shadowy creatures were cleansed from this plane of existence by purifying light.
Masato’s trump card, his ultimate show of power. Shougeki Reikon.
The swoosh that carried lightly, rebuffed by the overwhelming sounds of gunfire, and something altogether more, likely did not carry to reach the battered Major. It was a gentle cue, as subtle as the shift of hazy debris that cluttered the air from the freeways collapse. But the arrival of the wraith once more was nothing short of spectacular. Plummeting back to earth with a cloak of reiatsu that made him seem more meteorite than man, his impact splayed out the concrete at his feet, rippling out force and threatening to destroy yet more of the roadway: but it held.
The words offered were abrupt, but as to the point as one could hope, “Hold on to something.” It was a general order, given to everyone who could hear his wraithen voice. And then, with the might of Atlas himself, arms spectral and born of flesh gave a push to the apcs, packed with civilians and military alike.
They glided along at a glorious speed, as if the combustion engine within them was thrumming at its full power, even if it had been long disabled.
For his choice to clear out those in danger though, Kite paid a price. All about him the remaining dozen of the shadowy beasts, far more predacious and capable then when they seemed to be innumerate, wreaked havoc on his form. To show his quality, he paid in blood. His hamstrings were cut by blows that would have taken the leg of anyone else, his triceps rent by thirsty claws that should have amputated his arms at the elbows. His body collapsed into the slump of submission, even if his will was unbroken.
To achieve revenge, he sacrificed the towering construction of man. Two arms snapped out and gripped the freeway bridge, and flung it. Tearing off a whole section of the elevated road, he used it as a tool of harvest, reaping the bodies of the few remaining beasts. For his efforts, he found that only one remained.
But it was one too many for Kite. His body, even having lost touched with the physical world, was crumbling. His power, so hastily used to try and save even one more life if possible, was dry. In seconds, all of his strength would leave him, and this single beast would be more than a match.
Platinum blue eyes watched as it darted towards him with a speed previously unseen in them, maw opening and gluttonous craw exposed as it sought not his body, but his very soul. Arms formed of his connection to the plane between curled back, trying to make up for the failed flesh of his tangible ones, but they simply could not recover in time from the heaving of the freeway.
He stood on two precipices: the edge of the destruction he had wrought, and the end of life itself. Neither seemed welcoming.
And as the ‘undying man’ teetered on the precipice, gravity eager to put the monster’s epithet to the test, a hand reached out. Bloodied and broken, it grabbed hold of Kite. His legend would not die today.
“Fuck!” Masato bellowed as the surprising weight of the lanky human pulled on his broken left arm. Gritting his teeth, he held fast, stubbornly refusing to relinquish the grip he had on the man. Pulling with all the might he could muster, the Gunslinger flung Kite’s limp form unceremoniously from the edge of the precipice he himself had created.
Cringing as waves of pain wracked his senses, Masato turned his gaze to the last of the Hollows. The beast too, seemed to acknowledge his stare, letting out a deep and guttural cry. Digging its feet deep into the cracked asphalt, the Hollow charged, rampaging towards the battered Major with killing intent.
Shakily, Masato raised his lone revolver to face the beast. His last attack, his final attack, had taken more out of him than he’d care to admit. He could only hope he had enough to finish this last mongrel. Otherwise, well...
‘There’s no sense worrying about it now.’ the gunslinger chided inwardly. ‘...Just focus.’
Taking a breath, the Major leveled his barrel with the advancing Hollow’s vitals and fired.
Click.
“Well shit.” he breathed aloud. Too weary to even move, Masato could only watch as the ramaging beast closed on him.
With a snap, a myriad of spotlights flashed into existence bathing the ruined highway in piercing white light. The sound of screeching tires and boots on concrete echoed around him as one by one, the remaining Orpheus fire teams surrounded the startled Hollow.
A grin played across Masato’s bloodied face as he heard dozens of bolts snap back in glorious harmony, before a cacophony of fully-automatic gunfire raged across the battleground and heralded the brutal defeat of Orpheus’ final foe.
“Sir, are you alright?!” one of the fireteam leaders barked to Masato, waving for assistance. “...I need combat medics on my position. The Major’s down.”
“Belay that,” Masato hissed into his comm, making a futile attempt to struggle to his feet. “...Where’s the kid? That white-haired brat.”
“Delta squadron has him surrounded, sir.” the agent let out cautiously. “...Your orders, sir?”
“I swear to the god that is not watching today, I will use your entrails as a condom while I fuck your skull.” It was an empty threat from a broken warrior, laying face down on the ruin of the road he had savaged. Delta squad did not seem impressed, and simply kept the barrels of their customized, spiritually capable armaments leveled on the once colossal threat. Each and every man and women there knew that such monsters do not long lie dormant, and it was only a matter of time before this shattered husk rose up to become a threat anew.
For now, his ascended form had left him, and the bleeding had stopped. Though his body was torn and broken, he would not expire of exsanguination. But, in a word, Kite was tired. His enormous pool of power was dry, his body had spent the whole of its resources to keep functioning, and there was nothing left to reinforce it. He was just a nineteen year old young man, battered and war torn, hissing vacant and futile anger at the situation he himself had brought on.
“Pack him up,” the Major breathed through gritted teeth as a combat medic attempted to reset his mangled arm. “...But don’t harm him. He’s done us a service. I don’t think I’d have beeable to deal with those Hollows without his help. We owe him.”
Struggling to his feet with the help of his comrades, the battered agent hobbled into a nearby personnel carrier. Pressing a finger to his ear, Masato barked orders into his comm.
“Bring him in for questioning, I’ll have headquarters get a cell prepped.”
Peering out the open door as the vehicle slowly trundled past Kite, Masato met the kid’s gaze once last time before the carrier sped back to the tower.
Masato knew there were monsters in the world...but he wasn’t sure which of the ones he’d met today frightened him more.
[7361]
Last edited by a moderator: