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originally posted in:The New Dojo
11/22/2016 3:25:26 PM
44
[b][i]Under Siege... Or Maybe Not[/i][/b]
[b]1/2 Mile Outside the Dojo Gates[/b]
[i]A force had been massing to move on the Dojo for some time, creeping forwards through the undergrowth and brush to their forwards positions. Trenches had been dug, machine gun nests had been established, and the Stryker APCs that they had were camouflaged with branches and debris as they moved up. Scout snipers pushed the front, relaying information back to the troops that followed them, who were in turn followed by the mechanical infantry. Their force numbered near one hundred thousand, all under the command of a single [url=https://cdnb3.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/000/408/883/large/robbie-mcsweeney-futuristic-sci-fi-soldier-dude-by-robbiemcsweeney-d8568eo.jpg?1421334354]man[/url], who rode atop one of the Strikers. His armor did not bear the insignia of the blood-red cobra, rather, it bore a Prussian Eagle, its white contrasting with his sleek black and grey armor. In his hands, a heavily modified G36K, at his hips, a USP .45 and a large survival blade, and grenades hung from his bandolier. His orders were clear. This was to be a blitzkrieg. Turning his comms on, he ordered the gun trucks and technicals to begin the assault. It was time.[/i]
[b]Wilson's Vertibird, Dojo Courtyard[/b]
[i]Wolfe appeared before the table where Wilson normally stocked his weapons, and spoke with a tone of urgency.[/i]
Wilson, we've got a problem. Get your radio on, Clarkson's been trying to contact you.
Alright, alright, yeesh.
[i]The Courier said, waving a hand dismissively. Turning on his helmet's integrated communications unit, he tuned into Crow's frequency, after inputting the passcode in to access it. Clarkson spoke in a more militant tone than Wilson had ever heard.[/i]
Good, you're on. Atlas is making a move for the Dojo. I'm not quite sure what exactly he's doing but it's most certainly unusual. There's an enemy force massing to push on the gates and the walls over a massive front. Wilson, I want you to get out there, get any help you can, and hold the bloody bast*rds back. Wolfe, I want you to get hold of Rose and the boy, make sure they're safe, mate. I'll be overseeing this, we've got drone feed currently, and I do believe we're into his radio systems, so I'll do my best to keep you lads up to date. Get moving.
[i]Crow instructed.[/i]
WOOOOOH LET'S GO!
[i]Wilson said, sliding his M240B from his back, his M2 locking down into place and chambering a round.
This was gonna be fun. Wolfe, on the other hand, drew his sword, and disappeared. He had to get to the girl before they did.[/i]
[b]Dojoville, Rose's Flat[/b]
[i]Rose still hadn't gotten a name out of the boy, other than Watcher. She'd simply given up, and allowed him to work on his armor in the spare room she had, and he'd been occupied with that for some time. She, on the other hand, had been preparing to head out; putting on her armor and her helmet, when she was thrown back by an explosion above her. Thrown backwards, the armor had saved her from serious damage, but as she looked up, she saw the room filling with a pale yellow gas.
Mustard gas was the only thing that crossed her mind, and yet, this was much, much worse. Soon, she heard Watcher yelling, screaming even, and then she saw [url=http://rhubarbes.com/image/148002170477.jpeg]him[/url]. The sickly green glow from his helmet, the shotgun in his hand, the gas grenades all across his chest, his ragged black overcoat. Entering, he paid little mind to Rose, who was in shock, and he grabbed hold of the screaming and flailing teenager, who's eyes were wide and terrified, although he didn't seem concerned about the guy dragging him out. Tossing the boy to the roof, he climbed up after him, and made a hasty escape. So far, the plan was going perfectly. He just hoped Atlas and Konigstiger had planned their ends of the deal well. [/i]
[b]Inside the Dojo, Dojoville[/b]
[i]Wolfe maneuvered across the rooftops with the grace and agility of a cat, watching the streets below. What struck him was the sound of screaming and gunfire. Below him, another [url=http://pre04.deviantart.net/8229/th/pre/f/2016/295/a/7/inktober_day_21___heartless__tragos__by_tekka_croe-dalwyet.jpg]armored individual[/url] had begun an attack, firing a single revolver into the crowd, a blade at his hip. Three more, matching him, appeared from behind him, moving forwards as he did. With that, Wolfe jumped, his own blade drawn, heading into to fight.[/i]
[spoiler]Alright, big post going on here. You have three places to interact.
1. Help Wilson at the gates. Kill stuff and go ham.
2. Help Rose recover and get her to safety
The guy is already gone with the kid, though.
3. Help Wolfe fight the dude in white. This one's a toughie.
Other than that, open.[/spoiler]
English
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Edited by Chesh I Guess: 11/23/2016 3:18:14 AM[b]The incoming army would prove to be too much if not handled, after all... It was huge.[/b] [b]However, Wilson had an unlikely ally, in the form of a small girl, wrapped in cloth bandages. [url=https://i.imgur.com/ZVHXZSm]Mallana[/url] had heard the march of feet as Atlas's core group of fighter moved into the gates... But... This unlikely ally could only help so much.[/b] [b]Her quiet feet pattered towards the behemoth in power armor, her massive [url=https://i.imgur.com/MG7ep4f.jpg]machine gun[/url] strapped to her back, light blue flames poking out from each slit in the barrel even with the Greek Thermite Gun, she looked ill-prepared for war. Bright dress, minimal to no armor, bare feet except for the wrappings, and a small hood. A single bullet would kill her... But determination flashed in her brightly colored eyes.[/b] [b]She tapped the knuckles of her left hand against Wilson's armor, easily dwarfed under him... But she wanted to help, and saying no to such an eager stare would be hard... Assuming you were normal and not Wilson... But she had a kind of fire about her. Maybe it was stupidity, but she was willing to fight, and she didn't get into the Dojo based on her looks...[/b]
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[i]He noticed the gun, and laughed.[/i] Look, I don't know if you want to die, but if you can shoot, go for it! [i]He shouted over the terrifying roar of his Browning, the weapon decimating those in front of him. Pushing forwards, he unholstered his M1, and began picking off soldiers at longer ranger, the .30.06 doing serious damage.[/i]
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Edited by Chesh I Guess: 11/23/2016 3:47:48 AM[b]That was the fascinating thing about her... She didn't intend to open fire. Hell, her gun hadn't fired a bullet in years... No... She had a different plan.[/b] [b]She dashed forward, using rocks and whatever cover she could find to dodge in and out of the bullets until she was in the thick of the fight... From there, she made a quiet hand motion and stood still, watching as the troops moved.[/b] [b]Then, the ground began to shake, like an earthquake was about to tear the very land asunder in a mighty push.[/b] [u]Crack![/u] [b]Suddenly, the middle and left flank of the army was rattled and tossed as the rank smell of salt water and rotten kelp filled with air, the ground splitting open as water gushed out... But not just any water, sea water, from the depths itself.[/b] [b]Then another crack, as the giant, rust covered knuckle dragged out of the ground, the hand itself the size of a man... Then... A single, bright orange spotlight shone up as the Titan emerged from the crack. Y'see... That was the thing... Lana wasn't a capable and experienced fighter... But her 'friends', hell, they were damn beasts. And she had just summoned her biggest one... Brutus, Titan of the Depths, Terror of the Sea... The Anchor Monster.[/b] [i][u]"HNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGRRRRTTTTT".[/u][/i] [b]He roared, as he pushed out, the two story giant a masterwork of metal and runes. He was a pure steel and iron monstrosity, built in Lana's head as an ear perfect amalgamation of power. He shone with outer bronze, and a blue hue of sea etchings glowed off, long since carved into his body. Two massive lights acted as his eyes, hidden under a sheet of darkness, covered by a helmet of pure iron... No, steel... No... This was more. But his huge size wasn't the only problem... It was his weapon. Nearly two tons of mercury infused steel castes into the world's most battle worn anchor. This... This was Lana's power.[/b] [b]Then, with a roar, he struck, the anchor flying out into the fray as men were quickly swallowed into the dark chasm [url=https://i.imgur.com/ZXdaiAv]Brutus[/url] had broken out of, only for more men to be crushed by the anchor.[/b] [b]And with the men distracted, Lana broke into dozens of small paper butterflies, reforming onto Brutus' shiny headpiece, finger pointed to the center of the army. She'd scatter them, leave them reeling... And her monstrous ally would help.[/b]
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[i]The soldiers scattered off, breaking apart and continuing to fire on the monstrosity. The Strykers that remained unloaded AP shells onto the massive titan, aiming for the legs to bring it down. Wilson continued to push forwards and into the line, butchering anything that got in front of him. He was quite amazed with the giant diver thing that had just arisen from the ground, but he was more just paying attention to how many people he could beat down with an M1. Running out f ammo quickly, rather than reload, he simply decided that beating people to a pulp was funnier, and he continued to do so, smashing another man on the teeth with the weapon, then proceeding to curb-stomp and crush his skull. [/i]
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[b]The Titan gurgled gleefully as his chest peeled open, the two metal plates giving way as the bullets merely harassed him. The thick layers of metal were impossible to pierce, but... Now it didn't matter... Because sixteen large holes were all that separated the men, from eight feet long harpoons... Well, no... They fired much to quick as the harpoons launched out, spearing men, some getting two at a time. Those who survived the impact were quickly reeled back into Brutus' chest, the metal cage shutting once more as screams began to erupt. They were quite literally, boiled, as Brutus used heat to make fatal bouts of steam.[/b] [b]Lana sat, quite amused as Brutus stepped on, crushed, chucked, speared, and plowed through men. The Titan was a monster, and bitch to kill... With a swing of his anchor there, punch of a fist here... He could easily go through fifty men a minute. The army had a lot, but now Wilson had a Brutus... And Brutus was good enough.[/b]
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[i]Amidst the slaughter, the mercenaries ended up pulling back quickly, knowing that against the two titans, they stood absolutely no chance of victory. Given the order, they hastened their retreat, their mission completed.[/i]
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[b]Brutus let out a low hum, swiveling to face Wilson. If this thing has guns, he'd probably be a lot more terrifying... But hell... The anchor was good enough. If anything, it was terrifying that Lana could summon the damn thing.[/b] [b]With a light hop, Lana dropped onto the ground, unphased by the height. Her quiet feet brought her in front of Wilson, her eyes staring into his hellish yellow visor. She wanted to know what was next...[/b]
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[i]The optics of his helmet conveyed malicious and cold-blooded sociopathy, but beneath them, he was smiling, beaming at the behemoth that had slaughtered the mercenaries. Wilson wasn't one to hold back when he though something was cool, and the giant diver, well, it was on the levels of Lenny Kilmister cool. [/i] You just called that b*stard out of the ground? THAT'S F*CKIN' SICK! [i]He sounded absolutely ecstatic.[/i]
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[b]Lana wasn't about to explain how she did her magic, or how many others she could summon. Hell... She barley talked, but she was glad to see that Brutus has left a good impression. He two story monster was usually disliked... Mostly for his size.[/b] [i][u]"VVVVVVVRRRRRRRRTTTT."[/u][/i] [b]Black sludge and sea water sprayed the ground as Brutus let out a loud hum, the smell of oil and steam rising up from his shiny helmet like head. He was bizarre, but he had gotten the job done. Strangely through, the crack he had crawled out of had... Disappeared... Gone. It was like it never happened.[/b] [i][u]"FFFFFURRRRRYYYYYY!"[/u][/i] [b]And with that, the ground opened once more, Brutus slipping through, plunging deep into the dark and murky water that lapped at the edges. And then, the crack simply closed back up.[/b] [b]Lana let out a pleased sigh, and rubbed her eyes with a quiet yawn, pale white lips visible for a few moments before the wrappings fell and hid them once more. Brutus took up a lot of energy... He was big. But she was up for more, and if anything, she could keep going for days.[/b]
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As Wilson approached the battlefield he saw somebody already engaging Atlas' forces. A man clad in a long leather coat riddled with holes, weaving through the soldiers like a demon leaving lines of violet-cobalt through the air as the figure dashed and dismembered with a superheated blade. In his other hand was a Thumper grenade launcher. He used this in tandem with his blade, allowing for its explosive wounds to take hold before firing the weapon at his opponents and sending them flying back. Two massive wings made up of soot-ridden feathers and burning flesh stretched from his back, set alight with the same fire burning on the man's sword. A set of equally colossal arms expanded from his lower middle back, amalgamations of various limbs melded together with taloned claws of bone. The hands attached to the many arms held various firearms - most notable a modernized PTRS-41, a massive 2-gauge shotgun and twin .50 Desert Eagles. All were being fired by the extra appendages as the figure waded through the carnage. With a burning sword in one hand, a grenade launcher in the other and the flaming wings and extra arms he looked like some demented Angel of Eden. With every winged beat, a gale of thermite-equivalent flame spread in a radius around the figure. The False Prophet has risen. ~~~ When Wolfe landed from his leap, another figure landed beside him. "No more. No more death, and I'll be damned if any more war ravages this place." It was a man around 25 years old. Filipino with light hazel eyes and black hair accompanied by grey strands. A large overcoat made of a dragon's wings rested on his body, seemingly too big for the young man. The apparel was a memento of a dragon he had slain alongside Marauder Felix and others. He took the beast's wings as spoils. He stood bare without any armour or weaponry until Jackson felt a sudden heat overcome the area, alongside an unnatural presence that would make any normal man squirm with discomfort. When one burned a piece of paper, the sheet would merely burn away and almost fade out of existence with its ash. What happened next could only be explained as the opposite of that effect - armour burnt [i]into existence[/i] around the young man. An exosuit thick with armoured plating formed beneath the large coat, appearing as pure blue flames rushed over the man in waves. His arm became engulfed in heavy gauntlets; his shoulders were adorned with pauldrons with one having a shoulder-mounted M134 minigun on it. One shoulder guard had a red cobra on it with a thick gash running across its head, as if somebody superheated a blade and ran it across the metal. In his hand appeared a superheated katana, with thermite burning in a self-contained magnetic field around the sword. It burnt with the bright intensity of a Holy Ghost of some kind, eager to purify. Around the man's face formed a helmet. A single blue optical stared into the soldiers' souls as his features were covered by the armoured helmet. His open overcoat revealed a single plate of armour that stood out on his covered chest - the icon of a painted cobalt Phoenix.
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BOUT TIME YOU DID SOMETHING OTHER THAN TALK PHILOSOPHY! [i]The Courier shouted, letting loose a barrage of round with his Browning. Soldiers fell left and right, but they held their turf fairly well. Soon, the heavy machine guns of the technicals and armored trucks began to lay into the massive flaming figure, as he was a clear target. From some hull-down position, two Strykers fired their main 105mm guns on him, and somewhere, Konigstiger watched. These men were performing well for being mercenaries and drug runners. He was quite surprised. He was also surprised at how truly vicious Wilson and this flaming anomaly were. Moving into the trenches, Wilson drew his machete, and began butchering people, impaling them, dismembering them, and unloading on them with the behemoth of a machine gun that sat on his shoulder. He didn't need the help, but he certainly enjoyed watching the False Prophet's slaughter. He enjoyed watching his own. [/i] ~~~~ [i]Wolfe stood up to his full height, cloak blowing back and revealing his weapons, and the armor that Phoenix undoubtedly recognized. The posture, however, was different. Wolfe was not the cold-hearted emotionless entity that his father was. There was a fire inside him, one that burned brightly. Wolfe stared at this newcomer before him, and he observed the transformation.[/i] You're.... supposed to be dead... [i]He said, mildly surprised to see the rumored Forgotten Martyr. He had heard plenty of stories from Wilson about Phoenix, but never before had he ever seen the man, or rather, his spirit.[/i]
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Lucien ignored this as he continued dancing through his blood trance. As the 105mm began to hail down upon him he spread his wings and Angel-Arms, creating a miasma of thick brimstone-scented fog combined with a self-contained firestorm to cover his position. If the vehicles wanted to hit him, they would have to blindfire into the kill zone and risk their own men. Unbeknownst to the gunners however, Lucien hopped into a trench and began to slaughter any who stepped in his path. Usually one sword stroke sufficed as its intense heat was enough for most shielding and armour, but some were finished off with a barrage of AP .50 Deagle bullets or a 40mm slug from his grenade launcher. Spotting a Stryker, he raised one of his massive Angel-Arms and levelled his anti-tank rifle at it before firing... Multiple times. The rounds tore into the war vehicle and shredded it apart, tungsten propelled by shaped charges punching into its armour. Lucien jumped onto the front of the damaged vehicle and relieved most of the gunner's head from his shoulders via 2-gauge slug. He then sliced off the mounted turret before picking it up with his other Angel-Arm and firing it into the swathes of soldiers in the trenches below as the vehicle set fire to itself. Finally, he fired a grenade from his Thumper launcher into the hatch before grabbing the bottom of the vehicle with both Angel-Arms and throwing it into the other Stryker. The body-ridden battlefield provided more than enough food for him to heal from the blows. ~~~ "Only the dead have seen the end of war," Phoenix says as he quotes Plato to Jackson without looking at him. "And I may never rest whilst my home is torn apart by another man's conquest for power. So take my strength, Jackson. Peace can only be attained by those who are willing to perform the necessary evil." The M134 on his back began to spin up before firing a stream of tracer rounds at the soldiers. "Teleportation was always a bother when a fought here. Cover your back and use an EMP as a last resort. If you want, I can take these jokers on while you provide covering fire. If you're anything like your dad in terms of skill, I can only assume you can use that Barrett to its fullest potential." He produced a S&W M500 in his off hand and loaded it with strange ceramic bullets that glowed a bright blue as it distorted the air around it with heat. Fire ran off the barrel in droves like a hungry dragon.
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[i]Before Lucien and Wilson, the troops retreated, unable to hold back the titans. Before them, soldiers were pulling back and teleporting away, leaving the dead and the burnt-out vehicles. [/i] ~~~ [i]Wolfe looked to Phoenix, and nodded.[/i] I'll be back. I have some questions for you. [i]With that, he left, heading to help Rose, and leaving Phoenix to deal with the men in white. Before him; the man in white turned, dodging most of the shots and taking those that his him. Beside him, the matching figures appeared, approaching in step with him.[/i]
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Lucien walked through the battlefield, consuming corpses that were either dead or too maimed to fight back. The stench of burnt flesh and brimstone stung at the air as the Eldritch Angel waded through the war zone and consumed anything deemed as sustenance. ~~~ "More of you? Or perhaps..." Phoenix thought of something. The same armour with the same motions. Cloaking and teleporting, or mere illusions? The Martyr shot his superheated ceramic rounds at each figure before slashing at them, releasing a wave of burning thermite to test his theory. Were these men in white copies?
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[i]Wilson seemed to be salvaging weapons and gear left behind, picking up rifles and ammunition belts. He kicked those too destroyed away from him, and moved on, taking what he could carry.[/i] You are one UGLY bast*rd, you know that? [i]He said, carrying an M60E6 over his shoulder, three ammunition belts on his other.[/i] You should really get the whole parasitism Martian bullsh*t checked out. [i]He laughed.[/i] ~~~~ [i]The three moving in step disappeared in a cloud of movement, leaving the lone single figure in the center, who dodged the rounds, moving with an uncanny ability. Landing back to Phoenix's right, he spoke.[/i] Maybe next time, firebird. [i]With that, he disappeared.[/i]
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Lucien dropped to one knee, stabbing his sword into the ground as his wings and extra arms incinerated themselves. The man pulled his gas mask off of his face and took a few breaths of the pungent air - but it was air nonetheless. "Did we... drive their forces back?" ~~~ The Martyr didn't seem all too surprised. With a flare of blue fire, his form transmuted itself into a massive flock of ashen sparrows with eyes of fire.
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Looks like it. They pulled back on their own, though. Could've put up a nastier fight if they wanted to, they had the gear for it. I wanna know what the hell they were doing... [i]He said, looking around.[/i] ~~~~ END
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"Did they attack elsewhere, or was this there only front?" [spoiler]I'm willing to continue in the next post. [/spoiler]
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Can't say for sure, but it really f*ckin' looks like a ruse. Armies don't do this kinda sh*t unless they're after something really valuable. [i]Wilson replied, surveying the battlefield.[/i] Their formation is pure blitz, and I'll be damned if it wasn't a whole smoke and mirrors show...
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[spoiler]This is foreshadowing, do not act on it.[/spoiler] [i]As Fenrir walked the streets, before he was shot by the man in the white armor, he stopped, turning his head. He faced the field of battle outside of the Dojo's Gates. He felt something. Something...wrong. Inside of him, the Yodünfire ignited, raging within him, demanding to be released, to be able to [b]Purge[/b]. His hands formed fists as he struggled to contain the Fires of God, for the sake of this planet and the people on it. His eyes narrowed as he fought himself in his mind, a fierce struggle. Eventually, Vrael won out, the man reigning through his morals. However, he could feel it in his very bones. This...[b]Heresy[/b], this wrongness would not be tolerated. The Wolf would be sated, the Crusader would Purge. He began to walk again, his personal demons raging within him.[/i] [spoiler]Again, closed, unless you wish to do your own foreshadowing.[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]It's gonna be [b]lit. [/b][/spoiler]
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[spoiler]I see what you did there. Very punny. ;)[/spoiler]
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[u]Outside the Dojo Gates[/u] [i]Andrew Jackson had been leaving the Dojo, having gained his new armor, when he had seen the men approaching, heavily armed. Such a large force served to trigger him, his mind going back to the swamps, and the Seminoles. He sprinted to the forest before the men could set up a watch, drawing his Tomahawk and his Bowie Knife, both melee weapons vibrating as though excited for the oncoming conflict. However, the old General was no fool. He did not know this militia, their goals, or their motivations. As such, he kept quiet, watching as they set their line about the Dojo, digging their trenches and preparing other fortifications. One soldier approached, his gun held in a relaxed manner. Jackson's pupils dilated, and he hid, preparing to strike the man in the back when he heard shouts from the trenches. Old Hickory peeked from behind cover slowly, then faster as he saw that his prey had turned as well. He began to ready himself to lunge when he saw what the man had turned to see. A massive, hulking figure in power armor charging the trench lines. It was the man who had gotten Jackson this armor he now sported. Seeing this, his allegiance was solidified and his path chosen. He snuck up on the soldier, who was still watching, and readied his pair blades for their first kill in this battle...[/i] [u]Inside the Dojo, Dojoville[/u] [i]As it had turned out, Fenrir's paranoia earlier had evidently been a premonition. However, he discovered this the hard way as a round from the mans gun slammed into the back of his head, driving him to one knee. He shouted a few choice words, rubbing the back of his head and finding the familiar blue fire already healing the bruise that had been left. He spun, looking for the culprit, his eyes blazing as wildfires, his hands engulfed in the Yodünfire. His eye caught on two men rushing toward each other, the ferocity with which they addressed each other making evident the purpose of their clash. He also saw three more men enter via a side alley, aiming their guns at one of the two men. The other man was dressed in white armor, leveling a revolver at the first man. As the latter held only a sword, Fenrir found it safe to assume that the man in white had fired the irritant at his head. The ancient great sword, Ragnarok, formed in his left hand, effortlessly wielded by the Eternal Crusader. He charged the three men who had joined the fight from the back, loosing a battlecry as he fell upon them like a hammer blow.[/i]
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[i]As Old Hickory and the confused soldier watched, Wilson tackled a man to three ground, rolling with him, recovering, and letting loose with his Browning. The massive machine gun roared to life, splattering the men before him, the .50 caliber API rounds ripping through their armor. Many tried to return fire on Wilson, their AKMVs doing little damage to his armor. Throwing the corpse of the man he had crushed, Wilson moved forwards, drawing his machete. As one man charged him, firing his AK, Wilson impaled him, flipping him over his back, and moving on. The sound of the M2's report was terrifying, and the soldiers used it to track the Courier. Their own .50s from atop their gun trucks and technicals began to unload on him, scoring some hits. Seeing this, Wilson moved to cover in the trenches, trying to make sure there was plenty of space between him and the trucks. He shifted his Browning to suppress them.[/i] ~~~~ [i]The men Fenrir charged disappeared, only one of them reappearing above him on the rooftop, looking downwards, holstering his revolver.[/i] Gonna have to be faster, big guy. [i]He said, voice mechanical and raspy.[/i] [i]The man then staggered, as a shot hit him in the chest, sending him sideways. Wolfe stood on the rooftop adjacent to the man, revolver in one hand, blade in the other.[/i] You take care of him, I've got to go find someone and make sure they're alright. [i]He said to Fenrir, tone serious.[/i]
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Edited by Sanctus Caesar: 11/23/2016 2:33:04 AM[i]The General swiftly rushes, his experience in the Floridian swamps allowing him to retain near complete silence as he came up behind the man. The Tomahawk lashed out, shooting in front of the man's neck. Before he can say a word or scream, it is viciously pulled back, the lower corner of the weapons blade cutting into the mesh. It cuts through with ease, slicing into the man's jugular and preventing any noise from escaping. Jackson yanked him back with the Tomahawk, thrusting the Bowie Knife up and under the man's chest plate, going beneath the man's ribs and stabbing his lungs. The vibration blade makes quick work of it as Jackson lowered the man's lifeless body to the forest floor. Pulling out his blades, the grizzled President takes the rifle from the man's body, placing it into his satchel. He moves forward, dropping into the trenches behind a squadron. They fail to notice, due to both his skill and the distraction provided by the Courier. He thrusts his left arm beneath one man's left arm, his Bowie Knife catching him beneath his jaw. The man dies quickly, but is still pulling the trigger in his death throes. The General simultaneously chopped the tomahawk into the neck of the man to the others right. He pulls his left arm, pulling the first man left and mowing down the rest of the squadron before pulling out his knife. With the squad eliminated, he moves on, blades quickly vibrating off any blood, but his hands and the hilt coated in it...[/i] ------------------------------------------ [i]The Wolf nods, scowling. He hated teleporters, hated them with a passion. As he turns to face the four adversaries, he pulses a wave of fire, which fills up the entirety of the building. However, the fire burns nothing, and merely passes over everything. Satisfied that no one was in the building, he kneels, pillar of fire forming both on him and behind them. When the pillars dissipate, Fenrir is left standing there, before he slices the air, sending a wave of fire at them, hot enough to set the roof it passes over on fire. He rushes behind it, using his full speed and moving faster than any human should.[/i]
