"AYA BLYAT," [i]Yelled a voice from... seemingly nowhere, the voice deep and rough, as if whoever was speaking had downed a load of gravel before speaking, though the expected Russian accent was gone, replaced only by the static undertone of... whatever. Appearing from thin air a good few dozen meters away from Leyla, the pair known only as MJ and Jason thus far uncloaked, previously hidden by some sci-fi fuсkery, though weirdly... one of them was what wouldn't be expected. They both faced the dragon people, though. The humanoid of the two stood at about six feet and six inches with ease, muscular, masculine body shrouded in a set of pitch black, powered by, the sleek plating that covered the frame beneath accentuated and rimmed with milky white lines. Hiding the shoulder plates and half of the torso was a dark brown hide, draped over him like a poncho of sorts, wrapped around his shoulders, too big and dense to belong to any animal... Mounted to his thighs were the black scales of some dragon-like beast, undoubtedly, while on his right knee pad, he had a big bone, nailed to the plating beneath. Hiding his face from view was a Barbuta-type helmet, as if taken straight from the old ages on Terra in which knights clad in armour still clashed. It fit the rest of his armour, the visor filled with one-way, bulletproof glass, coloured a rich gold, contrasting heavily with the black of his suit. Mounted to the sides of the helmet's forehead were massive, draconian horns, each at least a foot in length, curving back ever so slightly, coloured a dark, murky black, probably ripped straight from some mighty beast and savagely mounted to the metalwork, but there was something much more... frightening about them. The children of Hovark, as he had been once known, recognized the trophies to be stripped right from their father's corpse, so inhumanely riveted on that set of steel by the beast of a man that wore it. A man with a bit of a reputation in the Dojo, caused by... specific events. None other than Jason Fandango, but of course. At the Russian's left side was a big, utterly monstrous canine, three-and-a-half feet tall at the shoulders, at the very least, much bigger than any wolf or dog. Its thick, impossibly dense fur shared its colour with a Siberian wolf, a light grey with white and black spots, though there was no way this beast was a mere grey wolf. Its body rippled with rock-hard muscles, its strength undoubtedly an absolutely terrifying things, while those eyes... piercing, crimson red, gleaming in the sunlight that fell down into the arena, drowning out the sheen of its metal-plated, razor-sharp teeth, spit leaking from its maw down to the ground in thick strings.[/i] "MJ, GO PLAY!" [i]The man only laughed, a literal minigun held in his two gloved, armoured hands. He lifted it up, the gun absolutely oversized and looking terrifying, the three barrels starting to spin up, switching place before the firing chamber, faster and faster until it was a mere blur and almost seemed to not move at all. The belt of bullets that piled up at Jason's feet started moving into the firearm, the muzzles lighting up brilliantly... ...Nobody even really had as much as a moment to respond to the Russian's sudden appearance before bullets started flying. With a thunderous roar, the terrifying minigun started firing, sending round after round flying through the air at subsonic speed. The bullets were bigger than even a .50 BMG, measuring in at about .75, tipped with solid adamantium, holding a depleted uranium core packed with an explosive charge, each and every one of them. The wolf, in the meantime, charged off to rip out throats and such, heading straight for Arianna and... whatever the girl she had her knife on was named. Jason sprayed rather wildly, aiming at the main target: the center of mass of the dragon Irina was tangling with.[/i] [spoiler]uwu[/spoiler]