Match of the Millennium

Description: Late at night, across the rolling mountains of the Appalachians, a strange caravan carries massive cargo on a forbidden back road winding through the forest. And with it, the spectre of death hangs. Ichiro has his orders: Bring the shipment to the hidden location. Remove any individuals asking too many questions. Dispatch anybody who interferes. Ichiro and his men may not be able to sense the incredible aura around the cargo. Alma and Ayame, however, may find the strange cargo, and have every reason to liberate the caravan of its cargo, and learn which where the strange item is being taken.

[ICHIRO]
"Corporal cut that light!" Captain Oe hissed at his backup after the heavy metal door clanged shut under the thick leaded curtain covering the huge 60 foot shipping container, trapping the pair inside with... the thing. "You were briefed on the Euclid, I shouldn't have to remind you how important it is that we follow procedures on this escort," he continued in a strained whisper, ignoring the muttered younger man's apologies as they switched on their near-infrared goggles for their not-so routine cargo inspection.

"Take the left flank. Let's make this quick," Ichiro whispered as the slowly moved past the rotting carcass of the Euclid-Class anomaly taking up nearly all of the large shipping container. Well, maybe carcass isn't exactly the right word, Ichiro thought as his foot nearly slid out from under him on a patch of the otherworldly milky blue slime that constantly dripped from the creature without any signs of stopping. There wasn't any reason to whisper of course; Ultratech command assured him that the Euclid was deceased, but Ichiro couldn't help but sense that the huge tentacled creature was alive... watching them from the darkness.

"Remember, don't shine the infrared on it for too long," he whispered again, not trusting the corporal's memory after he had the audacity to shine visible light on the anomaly SCP-5002 wasn't the only thing that came out of that gate. They'd made the mistake of shining light on the first one, which caused it to thrash and slowly turn dark purple, fooling the scientists and engineers into thinking the pair had survived the transfer; that is, until the milky blue rotten flesh of the first anomaly turned black and collapsed into a viscous sludge. Ichiro had been heading the security detail and caught some of the splash back; he had to be in quarantine for a week. Near-infrared light, at least, didn't seem to harm the monster like visible light did, though it did seem to make the supple gelatine like flesh seem to harden; almost crystalize... but that was for the eggheads at base to analyse. Ichiro and his crew were just here for security detail.

"Okay, looks good. Let's get out of here. I can't take much more of the stench," Ichiro told his relieved companion as they headed back for the cargo door.

'Good. I get the creeps around this squid. I didn't know they got this big,' the younger man said.

"It's not a squid," Ichiro muttered under his breath as the men hopped down from the massive flatbed hauling the crate down the quiet Appalachian road and walked back down along their huge caravan of covered trucks and equipment. The men knew that it wasn't a squid, but the monster sure looked like one at a glance. It was probably just their way of trying to make it seem normal, as if the creature was natural, like it was of this world. But Ichiro knew better. He had seen its face.

[ALMA]
To Alma, the stars above emit an invisible pressure. He leaps toward them, the sound of the wind rushing through his ears.

Now that he is deep in the Appalachian mountains, he can feel that pressure draped over him like a weighted shroud. But he would not be here were it not for his teacher Rose. Alma, after joining forces with the ninjas Ryu Hayabusa and Kasumi to uncover the strange supernatural goings-on behind this year's King of Fighters, turned to his teacher for advice. Matching the pronouncements of astrologists the world over, Rose's divinations informed him that his fate would lead him here to the mountains. Parting ways from his allies fighting in the tournament, he journeyed here in search of answers.

In his time since joining the Sacred Order and their clandestine adventures, Alma has made little progress in understanding the flashbacks that once beset him, false memories alluding to another life he never led, one scarred with countless battles. But he has changed nevertheless. The lessons he has learned have not visibly impacted his daily life or the painting for which he is famous. Nor have his psychic powers grown significantly stronger. The ways that he utilizes them, however, have become more adaptable and creative, and it is on ventures like these that it shows.

His feet touch down on jagged rock so lightly as to be silent. Then, within moments, he leaps again. Psychic power pushes against the rock to minimize his physical effort, sending him soaring, leaving wildlife largely ignorant of his presence. He follows the place where the pressure from above intensifies, intuitively tracking its increase. At last he pauses, poised, at a cliffside. Then, with a flicker and a small glimmer of light, he vanishes into the darkness and reappears ten yards up, standing on the thickest branch of a scraggly tree, his palm calmly placed against its trunk for balance. From there he gazes down into the valley, visage contemplative.

His thoughts stray to the past. He finds himself reflecting that only a year ago, he would not have been capable of confident movements like these in a lonely wilderness. Heartpounding encounters with the night's perils have made him wiser to the world in some ways. He has come to know not only duels and the recesses of his own psyche, plumbed in mental training, but the battlefield.

Has he, then, ceased to so often experience those echoes of his "double" because ... he has come to more closely resemble that person? And, if so, is that for the better or worse? It was meeting the shrine maiden Ayame some time ago that gave urgency to understanding these "memories": the "other" Alma had an enemy who also exists in this world. Alma's held onto that fragment of knowledge. But there is still so little he understands. Is he moving towards an important truth?

Or is he blindly recreating the world of his delusions?

He is jarred from his aimless speculation by the sounds of trucks and flickering lights passing around a bend in the road below. Alma looks down, seeing the lights quickly dim, and feels an eerie power wash over him. The stars had been like a mirror reflecting this energy down upon him, and now he has found its source.

He is not one for ambushes. Alma gathers his power into his limbs and dives down from the tree, his body alighting, wreathed in pink and purple ethereal flames. He flips and lands directly before the convoy, in plain sight of where Captain Oe and his corporal have emerged, the impact of his body on the ground seeming to emit little sound but the rush of his gauzy flames more than making up for it. He rises to his feet, his expression oddly mild when juxtaposed with his spectacular entrance.

"Monsters lurk in these shadows," Alma says quietly, voice carrying through the night air. "But I have the sense you are already acquainted."



[AYAME]
A week ago at the Meian Shrine, deep in the forests north of Southtown, the headstrong strawberry-blonde scion of the Ichijo clan headed toward the structure gates. Passing her ebony-haired mother along the way, she lifted her hand lazily, "I'm going out."

Tonight, Ayame Ichijo crouches in the foliage beneath a slowly dying evergreen. Nature fills the air - scents of dirt, pine, and moisture from a passing storm are carried by the crisp late-summer breeze. But she didn't come all this way for a camping trip.

Hand at her right ear, her head is turned as she listens to the movements of the convoy. A small bit of paper, rolled into a tiny cone is pinched between her finger and thumb, two small runes on its surface glowing faintly. The words exchanged over fifty meters away are readily audible to the hidden girl. The commands, the warnings, the movement of the heavy metal door slamming shut on something that should not be here.

In her left hand is another thin slip of paper decorated with geometric patterns drawn with the finest of brushes. As she moves it around, different shapes glow softly then fade. But when she moves her hand toward the convoy, all of the symbols glow a warning shade of deep red.

The tools were different than she had employed in times past, but the instincts that accompany their proper use in covert operations... those haven't dimmed the slightest. The trail had often been tenuous. But when people are involved, there is always room for a leak, a clue dropped unintentionally, or a pattern changed that at a glance seems innocuous enough until mapped against all the other clues one can find. They were enough to get her to the right region. The spiritual dowsing ofuda in her left hand was required to do the rest.

Something that did not belong moved in the dark and all her intuition told her it was big. The snippets of words caught by her clairaudience-enabling paper cone only serve to confirm what her gut already knew.

But she had learned the price for going into matters over her head. This was merely recon, a chance to discover, learn, and plan. Maybe in the near future, she would find others who would join her in dealing with what she found tonight. Tucking away her tracking talisman, she shifts on her feet, ready to relocate, maybe even find a place to get eyes on the men responsible - but never get too close.

'Monsters lurk in these shadows.'

Ayame freezes. "It couldn't be... he wouldn't..." she murmurs beneath her breath.

'...already acquainted.'

Grimacing, Ayame pushes to her feet and begins to weave through the woods with surprisingly quiet steps. It looks like she'll be getting eyes on the convoy sooner than anticipated.

[ICHIRO]
"SECURE THE PERIMETER! There might be others!" the security chief immediately bellows, wasting no time as the pink and purple flame-wreathed stranger touches down in front of the convoy. Ichiro's eyes narrow as he quickly attempts to assess the beautiful man's threat level. 'Remove any individuals asking too many question. Dispatch anybody who interferes.' Those were his orders. Judging by his entrance this energy-wielding fighter knows too much and probably won't scare off too easily anyway.

"I regret to inform you that you are interfering with a highly sensitive transport detail," Ichiro explains curtly to the man before pulling himself up onto the covered truck behind the cargo container that he just exited. "...and I have been authorized to respond with lethal force."

Tapping a few buttons on a piece of technology attached to the wrist of his high-tech looking tactical suit, Ichiro quickly ducks under the truck's canopy just before two large metal bipeds rocket out of the back of the truck and land in front of the young psychic.

"FULGORE MARK I UNITS ONLINE." The twin robots project loudly as they raise their arms into a battle stance. "TERMINATE ALL POTENTIAL THREATS."

COMBATSYS: Ichiro has started a fight here on the right meter side.

                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Ichiro has joined the fight here on the right meter side.

                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha brings its battle systems online.

                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta brings its battle systems online.

                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Ichiro climbs into his mech!

                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

[ALMA]
Alma looks faintly disappointed, of all things, as Ichiro reacts swiftly and professionally to the psychic's ostentatious entrance. He'd prefer a heart-to-heart conversation. Surreal circumstances have never fazed him in that regard. But serving as a so-called Holy Knight of the Sacred Order has weaned him of obeying such idiosyncratic impulses. His organization is tasked by the United Nations with preserving the boundary between the mortal realm and that of the supernatural. Alma may be something of an odd duck even among the Order, but he knows better than to reveal unnecessary information like who he is or what he knows, just as Ichiro knows better than to ask any pointless questions.

This is particularly true when he knows very little. Alma isn't aware of what Ichiro's company is shepherding and he has no solid evidence that what he has stumbled across has anything to do with the King of Fighters. The aura that he senses is foreign and inscrutable to him and, even with some experience dealing with monsters, his second sight reveals less than his eyes would. And he assumes this will prove to be yet another case of his following intuitions and fortune-telling and finding more broadly acceptable evidence after the fact. What he knows with confidence is that if an operation like this were on the level, the Sacred Order would know of it by virtue of its governmental affiliations. Whoever is behind this must be a private outfit.

"I had a feeling this would happen," Alma murmurs to no one in particular as Ichiro withdraws and two mechanical aberrations march forth, eyes aglow. "It must be my psychic powers." It would take a psychic to tell if this is a joke.

His own eyes glitter with the slightest of sparks as he activates, using a hint of telekinesis, a specific emergency signal of the GPS sensor located on his person, alerting the Sacred Order to suspected illicit traffic of monstrous entities or components thereof. These sorts of tricks are part of his trade now, more of the subterfuge he was unaccustomed to not so long ago. But, as he idly reflects in the split-seconds of calm before mortal combat, he won't be able to meet Ichiro's expectations: any reinforcements from the Order won't arrive in time to require the perimeter being secured. This battle will have been decided before they arrive.

Yet the very moment he thinks that, he detects amidst the chaos a very familiar aura approaching, standing out from the silence of the surrounding wilderness. Alma displays the hint of a smile before focusing on the approaching enemies, his eyes beginning to shine far brighter than before.

"I would ask you to do your best," he offers to the Fulgore prototypes, "but I suppose you can do nothing less."

He lunges toward one Fulgore, then, hurtling forward with an unnaturally swift acceleration, psychic power translating into physical force. Just at the moment that his trajectory is likely to register on his robotic adversaries, however, he vanishes with a burst of glittering sparks and reappears, moving at the same velocity but a different angle, at the second Fulgore. His outstretched hand is sheathed in a lance of shimmering pink flame, a pretty look to what is ultimately a raw spike of force intended to rend metal and earth.

His tactics are made plain: he will fend off greater numbers by repositioning unpredictably through the gift of teleportation. The question is if Alma's sudden reveal of this power will allow him to throw off the Fulgores' calculations -- or if he has underestimated the computer brains of his adversaries.

COMBATSYS: Alma has joined the fight here on the left meter side.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Alma             0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro



[AYAME]
Faster and faster, she forces herself on, sharp eyes and lightning reflexes keeping her from veering headlong into any of the trees along the way. Occasionally she flits between shadows into more open space and shafts of moonlight illuminate the approaching interloper briefly. Deftly, mid-stride, her fingers move to unbutton the cuffs of her black button-up blouse's long sleeves, giving her access to her tools tucked away. An equally obsidian black pleated knee-length skirt swishes against her legs as she springs over a dead stump in her path.

Black ankle boots kick up soft forest sod as her feet dig in for another sharp turn through a few saplings that she almost didn't see in the dark. Through the mad dash to make it to the convoy before it's too late, her right hand slips into the end of her left sleeve, before withdrawing with two loops of intricately folded paper between her fingers.

Keeping her balance through the precarious weaving and twisting through the thick foliage of the mountain forest, she presses the two loops together with her palms. A heartbeat and a burst of crimson chi between her hands, and the young woman pulls her arms apart as if to discard the paper loops out to her sides. But only flakes of ash scatter to the wind and left gripped in her left hand is a sturdy, long wooden staff, seemingly pulled from the non-existant space between two paper loops. Adorning the weapon's surface are intricate engraved runes, each glowing with a faint crimson aura.

And she conjured it just in time, coming across one of the uniformed soldiers that had followed his Captain's orders to disperse and check the perimeter. Without breaking stride, Ayame springs, body twisting in the air to deliver a devastating thwack with her staff to the side of the man's head - it may not knock him out cold but it will certainly leave him too dazed to act long enough for her to finish leaping from the tree line down into the open, feet skidding to a stop, her long weapon now gripped tightly in her left hand, another paper talisman already primed between her index and middle finger of her right.

She stands with her back angled toward Alma briefly, scanning the battlefield, taking note of the robot enforces already on the move.

"Really."

She spins toward Alma, bracing herself, "You came alone?" Her tone suggests a blend of disapproval and surprise.

She's airborne immediately after, sweeping her staff up over her head and aiming to bring it crashing down toward the second robot closing in on the gifted artist.

"Don't you have like an entire club for stupid heroics like this?!"

Should the weapon collide with a solid wooden smack, a small surge of chi coursing through it threatens to destabilize the robot further while the girl attempts to get her feet back on the ground in a controlled manner.

COMBATSYS: Ayame has joined the fight here on the left meter side.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Alma             0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha blocks Ayame's Power Strike.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Alma             0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta blocks Alma's Self Expression.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
Dual blue holographic scanning lasers project outwards from the pair of robots and sweep over the young psychic as he dashes toward one of the mechanized units before disappearing in a burst of sparkles only to reappear moments before colliding with the second. "COMBAT ANALYSIS UPDATED. UPLOADING TACTICAL DATA," the machine remarks to itself as it crosses its bladed arms to ward off the blow with a dramatic shower of sparks. Not a moment is wasted gathering itself after deflecting the attack; the instant the pink flamed strike is clear the Fulgore Mark I Beta Unit quickly spins, its arms outstretched to try and slice the young psychic apart with the blue plasma arm blades.

"A NEW THREAT APPROACHES." Fulgore Alpha intones as its blue scanning laser sweeps across Ayame as she lands on the road. "UPLOADING TACTICAL DATA." Sparks fly from Fulgor MKI Alpha's plasma bladed arm as it deflects Ayame's charged staff blow with the smooth precision that only a mechanical being is capable of. The robot's red optical scanners flash brightly as a loud laser shot pulses loudly from its eyes towards Ayame's feet, attempting to blow her backwards with concussive force.

"I wish you hadn't interfered," Ichiro's voice projects from under the truck canopy, amplified by some sort of PA system, his tone resolute but sincere. The sound of rockets firing suddenly drowns out the din of battle as Ichiro's mech launches through the canopy roof and is gently dropped to the ground between the two Fulgore units by the rocket boosters in the mech's bipedal legs. The mech's holographic display projects the Fulgore units' tactical analysis directly into Ichiro's retina through the built in helmet attached to the mech's open cockpit. "You two are strong. Perhaps we can avoid a conflict. I've received authorization to bring you in for a debriefing." The mech's legs whir and clank as Ichiro shifts the mechanical exosuit to meet the gaze of both fighters. "This is good news," he states matter of factly as he awaits their response.

COMBATSYS: Ichiro focuses on his next action.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Alma auto-guards Fulgore MKI Beta's Axis Slash.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

[ALMA]
Alma exhales softly as the lance of Soul Power sheathing his arm collides against resilient metal, the Fulgore prototype reacting in time to protect itself from a direct hit. But the psychic's expression does not even flicker. Even as the robot draws its blades of blue energy, the hue of Alma's flame darkens from cherry-blossom pink to a rich indigo before erupting into swirling lights that scatter like fireflies. He seems to have detonated his attack to drive his adversary back, leaving himself standing where he landed, calm and unruffled.

"I can't comment on that," he replies to Ayame with a slight smile, sounding amused. "Hello, Ayame. How are your parents?"

Does her mother still ask after him?

Alma had no doubts that whatever Ichiro is safeguarding is relevant to the interests of the Sacred Order, but if whatever organization Ayame is affiliated with also is motivated to pursue this convoy, then he has all the more reason to fight. Whatever is in that truck may lead him to the "enemy" that the "other" Alma has seemingly been warning him of -- and thereby to the truth of his flashbacks. Or, more likely, lead that enemy to him.

"I regret to be the one to reject a peaceable solution," Alma replies to Ichiro's amplified voice, his gaze flitting to the mech as it lands in the midst of the battlefield. He can sense the captain's aura within it, which is something of a relief. It is difficult to fight an enemy to whom Alma cannot psychically attune himself, and being able to detect the overall wavelengths of Ichiro's emotions is somehow reassuring to the empath. "But I believe none of us are in a position to negotiate without compromising our purposes or goals. Otherwise," he adds, now briefly turning his smile toward the mech, "I would have asked you to surrender, sir."

He's not sure what will happen if he and Ayame are able to triumph in this situation or how long their alliance will hold. But such thoughts can be set aside--

"So I'm afraid I must forego the debriefing--"

--until they've won.

"--and learn what I may for myself!"

He is rising into the air as he says this, buoyed by gathering psychic force, the ethereal flames having disappeared from his arms to wreathe his legs as he spins into three consecutive kicks, aiming to drive one Fulgore up into the air before blasting it back to earth.

COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Fulgore MKI Alpha's Laser Storm.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Alma             0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro



[AYAME]
Moving easily with the rebound of her staff as it bounces off the metallic guard of the robot, Ayame spins gracefully, sweeping her staff out to buy her space between herself and the resilient defender. She comes to a stop with her weapon held in front of her at an angle, ready to strike or defend as the next moments dictate.

The flexible stance is put to the test the next instant as the robot does not hesitate to return fire from its soulless eyes. Another quick step and an intercession of her staff spares her the majority of the intended pain, but it does leave a smoldering scorch mark on the wooden weapon. "Tch."

He wishes they hadn't interfered. "That makes two of us."

Alma is shot a glare, "Gee." She pulls her right hand away from her staff, "They are great." A pale paper talisman is still between her fingers. "Would you like to say their address out loud just in case anyone present wants to pay them a visit?"

She twirls her staff over head, a trail of crimson energy lingering in its wake. "This whole subterfuge thing does not suit you." she grunts, slamming the end of her staff down against the ground and snapping her right hand at the wrist to send the paper talisman into the air. It bursts into pale, ghostly fire once it hits the open air, and rather than slow down like one might expect from flung paper, it speeds up with an uncanny surge of energy bearing in on the robot Alma seeks to strike.

Her eyes find the well armored man in charge after that, however, locking on his mechanical armament and pausing for a fleeting moment. Some offers might be better than the alternative here.

"I do apologize," she murmurs, bracing behind her staff again, "My associate here is in possession of ideals that would forbid the thought." She glances around, taking stock in the primary threats, looking to keep from being surrounded. "I am sure you understand how it goes."

Her right hand parts from her staff briefly to gesture toward the cargo container, "You must understand-" a slight shake of her head, "We cannot be the only ones in the world that picked up on this presence. It cannot be kept secret for long."

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta dodges Alma's Rising Fury.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta dodges Ayame's Reliquary of Lost Time.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
The Fulgore prototype watches stoically as Alma's psychic energy lifts the young man into the air and prepares to unleash a salvo of kicks at the android. Just as the first kick is inches from connecting with the Fulgore unit it raises its arms into the air and suddenly erupts with cerulean lightning as the robot vanishes, leaving Alma's kicks connecting with nothing but air and Ayame's ghostly fireball streaking harmlessly by soon after. Reappearing just as fast as he left, Fulgore MkI Beta quickly reappears behind Alma and slides forward, attempting to skewer the young psychic with a crackling plasma blade through the back before he even has a chance to land from his kick. Apparently Alma isn't the only one able to try and cross up their enemies by teleporting... or did the Fulgore unit learn from Alma's earlier feint?

"TARGET AQUIRED" drones the robotic shocktroop as it begins to scan Ayame once more, leaving Ichiro to respond to the pair's rebuff of his generous offer. "Too bad," Ichiro sighs. "Debriefing is preferable to reprocessing. Messy business that." A small red laser not unlike the robots' scanners is suddenly projected from Ichiro's mech onto Ayame's center mass. "Fire in the hole!" Ichiro shouts with a satisfied smirk as a small guided missile launches from the back of the mech and begins to track its painted target. Is there a such thing as a /small/ missile really?

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha acquires a target.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Alma interrupts Cyberdash from Fulgore MKI Beta with Glimmer of Hope EX.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Alma             1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ///////////////////////////// ]
                                  |-------\-------\0           Ichiro

[ALMA]
"This may not suit me--"

Alma's kicks meet only air, but his eyes remain bright and clear.

"--but it is the best I can do."

Picture this against the night: Alma turns with the momentum of his third and final kick, the ethereal flame imbuing his legs traveling up his body now as though he has fully caught flame, the stars still visible through the translucent curtain of rippling fire. It surges up his body and down his arm as he twists and stretches in an unfathomable dance, reaching out toward the darkness. Only a moment later it is not the darkness: it where the Fulgore prototype has moved with blade drawn in an attempt to catch Alma unawares, only to find that this time, computation is one step slower than intuition. Alma's flame has already gathered into his fingertips, into an orb that bursts, Fulgore's blade searing the psychic's arm but not nearly so ferociously as the eruption of Soul Power tears at the robot's mechanical limb.

That, at least, suits him.

He lands gracefully, and the glow that remains in his eyes still evokes the yearning of his outstretched hand moments before. "I want to be good," he says simply to Ayame, "and I want to know the truth. I won't sacrifice either. Even if I'd be better off," he adds, smiling, "with a brush in my hands." It is hard enough to hold love or mercy in one hand and justice in the other. To also reach into the darkness for knowledge about oneself and the world, surely one would drop one or the other. And yet--

"Do you think this sort of life suits you?"

He does his best.

Alma's words to Ayame are delivered diplomatically, with a tone of mild curiosity, though they may sound like a challenge nonetheless. But his expression flickers at Ichiro's shout, moments before the mech's missile launches.

"Watch out!"

COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Ichiro's Controlled Demolition.

[    \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Alma             1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ///////////////////////////// ]
                                  |=------\-------\0           Ichiro



[AYAME]
Meters past where the targeted robot was standing, the ghostly pale blue ball of hurtling fire loses its flame and only lingering ash is left to scatter to the wind. The evasive response of the contraption seems to have caught her off guard, eyes blinking once, her right hand still left in the air from when she had flung the burning talisman in the first place. Technology can do that? These things seem somehow more advanced than the contraptions that Chaolan bastard is selling, yet also somehow even more soulless. Just who WERE these guys?

Eying one of the twin terrors warily as it seems to take specific interest in her, she braces behind her staff once more, both hands gripping the sturdy metal. In that instant, the vicinity is awash in violet energy as the psychic artist risks being carved into for the chance to deliver a heartfelt explosion of Soul Power.

"Hmph," Ayame grunts, spinning toward the Captain of the convoy when a precision red dot identifies her torso as the destination point for a deadly artillery. Instinct rather than conscious planning is the only possible explanation as her sweep impacts the missile in the same instant that she is springing backward, allowing herself to be dislodged by the early explosion. Violent orange and concussive sound join the aura of colors created by Alma as the girl is obscured from sight.

A shower of dirt and small rocks is the next audible sound in the aftermath of the detonation as Ayame is finally visible meters back, panting for breath, her hands, shins, and cheeks bearing the black smudges of one who had way too close of a call with precision-guided munition strike. Eyes settle on Ichiro, clearly taking immediate interest in the threat he represents.

Ears may ring with a deafening peal, but Alma's question from before resonates deeper still.

"For me," she stands up straight, then leans into a sprint toward Ichiro. She has ground to make up after that attack. "It was never a choice!"

Her staff ignites, its length wreathed in crimson fire, motes of energy swirling about the miko in black as she leaps into a spinning staff strike toward Ichiro, attempting to crack the shell of defense his armor clearly represents. She would land, spinning into a second horizontal smack with the other end of her weapon, before stepping in, hefting it over her head like the executioner's axe, and bring the shaft slamming down toward the armored top of the Captain's head.

"Yield!"

COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Ichiro with Requiem For Fallen Blossoms.

[    \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Alma             1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////////////////      ]
                                  |====---\-------\0           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
Fulgore MKI Beta's arm errupts with sparks as Alma's psychic fire detonates and shreds the metal encasing the robot's forearm, exposing wires and shorting out circuitry and causing the robot's plasma blade to flicker and fade. "Do you two need a moment alone?" Ichiro quips with a frown as Ayame charges him, causing the mech pilot to back up a few clanging steps in a futile attempt to preserve some of the distance he's gained. In the background the Fulgore MKI Beta unit can be seen unleashing a red laser burst from its eyes, attempting to blast Alma into the air with a well-places shot at the young man's feet as Ichiro is pummeled by Ayame's trio of staff blows.

"Gah!" Ichiro growls as the third strike connects with his helmet, causing his HUD to flicker and jumble momentarily. "You're crowding me," Ichiro chides as he attempts to use his mech's extended reach to strike out with the machine's clawed hand and attempt to grab the young woman by the legs. "Alpha. Take care of her for me please," he instructs the robot as he keys unknown commands on his mech's control panel. If he's able to get ahold of Ayame, Ichiro's mech will violently swing her into the ground a couple of times before casually flinging her into the air towards the Fulgore unit. "UNDERSTOOD." The robot intones as it receives its orders, preparing to unleash a brutal triple laser blast from its eyes in an attempt to juggle Ichijo in the air for a few long cruel seconds.

COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Fulgore MKI Beta's Laser Storm.

[    \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Alma             1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////        ]
                                  |====---\-------\0           Ichiro

[ALMA]
Alma has time only to watch out for himself. His gaze snaps back to his robotic adversary just in time for its eyes to alight menacingly. Without a moment's more hesitation, he hurls himself to the side, body twisting away from what a split-second later becomes a smoking crater in the ground. The laser blast rends the earth where Alma was standing. He flickers once mid-tumble, his psychic powers seeming to activate unconsciously from his will to evade, and the luminous force appears to deflect some of the dirt and rock that pelts him before he lands.

He is able to roll smoothly to his feet, but the wince on his dirt-smudged face shows the effects of the blast's impact more clearly than his movements. Despite the imminent danger of a follow-up attack, Alma's concern for Ayame turns his attention back to her, only to see that his view of her is obscured by Ichiro's mechanized battlesuit. Knowing only that she is likely in greater peril than he, the psychic's spirit responds, power redoubling as his eyes flare up with a light that rivals the robot's seconds before.

"A generous offer!" he replies a little belatedly to Ichiro's initial question. His pink and purple energies gather in his hand with such intensity that they begin to spiral down his arm like a comet moving in place. "I gratefully--"

Risking taking his attention off of his current adversary -- who, lacking a conventional aura, is difficult to track except by raw intuition -- Alma strikes the earth with his palm, a line of variegated light zigzaging like a river carving channels toward Ichiro.

"--accept!"

Only a few paces from him, possibly while his attention is on coordinating his attack on Ayame, this stream of energy will burst from the ground in a torrent, rising up like a geyser to blast Ichiro up and away, its physical effects propulsive and its mental effects jarring and disorienting, threatening to attenuate or sweep away one's sense of self and its presumptive boundaries.

COMBATSYS: Ayame reflects Tri Laser Storm from Fulgore MKI Alpha with Midsummer Fantasy and avoids Hate Storm from Ichiro and Fulgore MKI Alpha.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Ayame            0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[       \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Alma             0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////        ]
                                  |====---\-------\0           Ichiro



[AYAME]
The staff dancer lands in a half crouch after delivering a staggering bash with her flaming weapon, a soft exhale of breath punctuating the combination assault. Shaking her head, long hair bellowing out behind her, she gets ready to surge forward into a second assault, clearly intending to give the Captain no chance to recover. Were he depending purely on mortal eyes, perhaps he would be hard pressed to pick out the silhouette of the young fighter in the corona of crimson emanating from her staff as she bolts toward him.

But he has far more than mundane senses reporting back to him and as she winds up to deliver another staggering bash, the powerful hand of his cutting edge mech snap out to seize the young fighter.

Eyes widening, Ayame changes course at the last second, attempting to avoid the impending grip but her right ankle is snared tightly all the same. Before she can even flail her arms at the inevitable tumble that would result from such a sudden stop, she's bodily whipped up and over toward the ground, a cry of surprise escaping her lips.

But her arms are free and hardly idle, her left hand's fingers clenched around her staff, her right hand slipping into her left sleeve in a flash before snapping back out toward the ground. Three small, faint red flairs are flung toward the hard dirt, moving almost imperceptivity fast. Their purpose becomes abundantly clear as, rather than her shoulder breaking against the ground with bone shuddering force, the nimble fighter's side buries into a thick rose pink, ephemeral cushion of energy that wasn't there an instant ago. The energy seems to absorb the kinetic energy of her momentum all together as her shoulder digs into it, both preventing her from being harmed by the landing but also making it a bit slower to pull her back up for a follow up impact. It hardly lasts, scattering into a million blossom like motes a split second later, but its purpose was served all the same.

At the same time, the rapid thinking girl is in the process of kicking her free leg against the powerful grip on her ankle, an effort promptly joined by her staff a moment later. With a grunt, rather than being hauled up for a second visit to the ground, she's back flipped away, leaving nothing but her shoe in the mechanical grip.

Her right hand's slides along her staff, pulling the crimson flames into her palm. A perfectly timed mid-air pivot leaves her thrusting her right palm forward, all of that borrowed energy from her staff forming a shimmering blood-red discus of light between her and the incoming lasers. That any of them end up flying back toward the originating robot is likely more chance than design, as Ayame finally lands in a tumble meters away, her staff hugged against her vertically to keep it from getting pried out of her hand.

She lands face down some ways off, hardly showing signs of getting back up right away. Her shock absorbing energy cushion has collapsed and her staff has lost its glow, but the tricky miko otherwise avoided the worst of the assault.

She might be heard muttering into the ground as her right hand starts to move so that she can push herself up from her disheveled landing.

"Ugh... This was a horrible idea."

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha fails to reflect Reflected Tri Laser Storm from Ayame with Electroflect.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[       \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Alma             0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  //////////////////////        ]
                                  |====---\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Ichiro with Full Confession.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[       \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Alma             0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  /////////////                 ]
                                  |=======\==-----\1           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
The Fulgore unit's mouth would be hanging open in surprise as Ayame skillfully manages to thwart the pair's precise technologically advanced team up attack... if it wasn't an unfeeling killing machine. The robot raises it's arms in front of its metal chest and begins to generate thick arcs of lightning-like plasma between its hands as the reflected triple laser bolts streak towards it. "GRAAA1001010111!" the robot cries out as the energy rips past whatever sort of defense it was attempting to mount, its cries degenerating into digital static as the android stumbles backwards in a shower of sparks.

"These bandits are stronger than we first assessed," Captain Oe remarks as he clicks on radio contact with his security team. As Ichiro speaks to his team the Fulgore unit that Alma left unattended tries to take the opportunity to rush in for a brutal overhand blade strike with it's uninjured arm, hoping to catch the psychic offguard? Robots do not understand such things.

"You won't be able to hold them off. Prepare to execute Exfil Bravo. SCP-5002 needs to be secur-GAAAH!" Ichiro suddenly cries out as Alma's unseen blast launches the mech into the air. Alarm klaxons blare in the security chief's ears as he attempts to engage the battle suit's rocket boosters, but the damage to its chassis appears to be too severe to recover from as the force of the rocket causes one leg to shear completely off of the mech with the ear piercing screech of twisting metal. The remaining bulk of the battle armor is sent cratering into the ground, knocking over a tree on the side of the road as the free-flying leg tumbles randomly through the air like an untied balloon. The air is still for a moment before Ichiro slowly pushes the chest of the mech open and drags himself out, the cables connecting into the back of Ichiro's tactical combat rig which enable the mech to leech power off of his personal chi reserves pop off in succession as he pulls himself from the wreckage. Once free of the machine Ichiro leans back against his fallen mobile armor suit to attempt to shake off his injuries. Though his body looks rather broken and beaten, his face covered with bloody cuts from his shattered control helmet, his aura seems stronger now that he's not being used as a battery by the mechanical battle suit. "I'll hold them off for as long as I can," Ichiro mutters into his comlink. "Secure the euclid."

COMBATSYS: Ichiro has ejected from his mech!

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[       \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/-------|===----\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=======\===----\1           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta successfully hits Alma with Gravity Strike.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=======\===----\1           Ichiro

[ALMA]
Alma feels his attack connect with the battlemech before he sees it. The geyser's radiance is almost blinding in contrast to the blackness of the night or the pinpricks of the stars above, and the fate of the mech is not immediately apparently, but the psychic can feel the fluctuations of Ichiro's aura at this distance. For a breathless moment his mind flits back to the monstrous presence emanating from the flatbed truck behind him. He must advance quickly before the other soldiers here are able to withdraw, and secure his objective sufficiently to hold it until reinforcements arrive--

"Aaah!"

This distraction, though brief, proves costly. The impact of the robot's fearful slash slams Alma into the dirt in a blur, force rippling out in a loamy plume of dust and debris that showers around them. Only once it falls can it be seen that Alma has, just barely, managed to brace himself on one hand and block the blade with his other arm, its edge cutting into his flesh, only shimmering sparks of purple indicating the mental pressure that is preventing the weapon from shearing into bone. Blood stains his sleeve and drips down, spattering his own dirt-stained cheeks above tight lips and below unblinking eyes.

But if Alma also thinks this was a horrible idea, he shows no signs of it. There's no hint of regret in his features and least of all in the alacrity of his sudden movements. Heedless to how the motion forces him to gouge the blade into his arm, he places his weight on the hand braced against the ground and pivots his hips, rotating his body to lash out with a sweep kick. If he can create some distance between himself and the robot he erroneously neglected, he will be able to rise to his feet.

The monster will have to wait a little longer.



[AYAME]
Shaking her head, Ayame presses against the ground, a knee brushing into the dirt briefly, before she's finally to standing, staff hefted up between her hands. There is plenty of evidence of her tumble, from the dirt that is smeared into the sleeves and back of her blouse, to the pine needles dangling in her hair, but she certainly avoid the actual harm intended for her by the precision coordinated attack.

It takes her a moment to survey the situation, to figure out why she wasn't being immediately pressured with a looming robot or remotely fired suppressive laser bolt fire. But she puts together the picture quickly - One robot is threatening to slash deeply into Alma with its blade, the other is still reeling, suggesting that her clutch defense paid off better than she may have even hoped for, and finally, something Alma did must have forced the bold Captain from his battle tech.

The young woman freezes at that, eyes lingering on Ichiro as he pries himself free of the future-tech war machine to prepare for more direct combat. There is a slow blink, a brief loss of focus, before she shakes her head, a glimmer of confusion replaced with resolve as she grits her teeth.

A sock-clad foot digs into soft soil as she breaks into a sprint directly for the psychic, staff held at her side, flaring to life once more with that crimson glow that illuminates the space around her. When she is three meters out, she leaps, whipping the lengthy weapon up over her head, a significant quantity of the blazing energy compressing into the raised end of the shaft.

She swings as she falls out of the jump, attempting to smash the weapon into the upper back of the robot Alma contends with, possibly with enough force to dislodge it from its contest with the young man entirely. For as aggressive as the blow is, it becomes clear that she is angled just so that she won't end up crushing Alma even if the robot escapes her strike - a mercy for an ally of convenience at least.

"Together on this one!" she shouts for Alma. One of the metal sentinels cannot possibly last long under their coordinated assault, can it?

COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Fulgore MKI Alpha with Heavy Strike.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////               ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=======\===----\1           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta blocks Alma's Light Kick.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////               ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////            ]
Alma             0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=======\===----\1           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
As the Mark I Fulgore units distract the young fighters; one taking a brutal chi-infused staff blow to its back, causing it to twitch spastically for a split second as its CPU quickly recalibrates the battle droid's motor controls, while the other quickly drops to a knee to block Alma's tripping sweep with its well armored metal thigh. "Get those boosters in position and exfil to the rendezvous point!" Captain Oe hisses into the comlink as his security troopers scramble around the huge metal container housing the strange organism in pairs, attaching cumbersome pieces of tech to the container with electromagnets. As the men work to try and get the container out of harms way, the Fulgore units continue their assault. Fulgre MK I Beta launches itself from its crouch at the sweeping Alma, its plasma blade reigniting as it attempts to hit the young psychic with a springing forearm strike. Fulgore MK I Alpha, having recovered from Ayame's brutal staff blow, attempts to replicate its brother's success by launching it's own brutal overhand plasma blade strike, slashing downward toward Ayame's upper body with the full force of its robotic strength; because their claws are made of metal, and robots are strong.

Breathing with the labored wheeze of someone who has several broken ribs, the Security Chief slowly reaches into a pouch on the chest of his tactical harness and carefully withdraws a high-tech looking auto-injector. More blood flecking his lips with every exhale, Ichiro weakly raises the device to his neck as the silvery mercurial liquid within is quickly injected into his bloodstream at the hissing press of a button. A glittering pulse seems to slowly spread through Captain Oe's skin as the nanites in the liquid propogate through his bloodstream, navigating their way through his circulatory system and repairing any damage that they encounter. "Ah..." Ichiro groans thankfully as he pushes himself to his feet as his ribs knit back together while some of the nanites stimulate his adrenal glands, causing them to release adrenaline to give him a spike of energy and cortisol to help boost his own natural immune response. Unfortunately the dose isn't large enough to heal him fully (larger nanite doses were trialed on test subjects and the results, while medically interesting, were deemed too unpredictable for field deployment) but at least it has him back on his feet. Perhaps now he'll be able to buy his men more time.

COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Fulgore MKI Beta's Power Strike.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////                ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=======\====---\1           Ichiro

[ALMA]
Alma flinches as his leg meets unyielding steel, but he smoothly recovers nevertheless, spinning into a poised crouch. The robot is already counterattacking, but this time the psychic is ready. The rippling pink and purple flames he summons about his arms seem to stiffen for a moment, freezing in place and forming a shield over his wounded limbs, as he crosses his arms before him to repel the energy blade assault. The impact sends him sliding a foot back, yet he retains his balance.

Wincing and breathing roughly, Alma still remains steady and alert. When Ayame shouts out to him, he glances quickly to the side to see her staff strike home against their other mechanical foe. The captain of the enemy forces is recovering and no doubt his troops are hard at work securing their objective. It's now obvious he cannot ignore the threat of these robots, but they have to work fast if they aren't going to let Ichiro's men get away.

Ayame's call to action comes at an opportune moment. Alma sees that the robot she is fighting, even as it slashes at her, seems to be faltering somewhat. They must act--

"Now!"

Alma's arms blaze up with the ethereal flames that wreathe them and he lunges toward his current opponent. Yet once again his body flashes out of existence, leaving only a glittering trace. He reappears soon after, and as usual, he is hurtling at another angle. But this time his target has changed: he has redirected himself toward Ayame's opponent, plunging forward with preternatural alacrity before his previous opponent can process the situation.

His shout was not mistimed, for he closes the distance in a split-second, unleashing a barrage of palm strikes at the robot's metal head and torso, seeking to dent its armor and expose the vulnerable components beneath to strike at them. The psychic force imbuing his hands in the form of flames adds to their rending power. But even with the element of surprise, an all-out close-range attack is risky.

Alma's confidence comes from having fought Ayame before, and his awareness of what she's capable ...

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha successfully hits Ayame with Gravity Strike.

[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////                ]
Ayame            0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=======\====---\1           Ichiro



[AYAME]
The girl in black recovers from smashing her staff against the robot's back with grace undisrupted by the concussive exchange of forces. Spinning with the rebound, she touches down, sock-clad foot digging into the dirt as she sweeps the still glowing weapon out in a wide crescent between her and her selected target, possibly warding the combat machine off if but briefly.

If she is satisfied with her solid blow, it would be difficult to find any hint as such with the way she glares back at the relentless electronic warrior. "What is it," she murmurs, rising out of her lower stance to brace with her weapon, "With all the robots this time around?!"

Her hands clench tightly over the glowing shaft of her weapon as she braces for the incoming blow, prepared to sweep one end up into the path of what passes for a wrist on the thing's arm in order to deflect the much more deadly plasma blade. That she was successful in her timing is made abundantly clear by the loud smack of wood against metal. What doesn't go quite her way is that immediately following is the sound of wood surrendering to more solid force, splinters flying out as the one end of her weapon breaks and the robot's blade slashes down, albeit on a slightly altered course than its original trajectory.

In the aftermath, Ayame steps backward, one uncertain step, then another. The long left sleeve of her black blouse has been slashed open, her bare arm, now stained with spreading crimson, visible beneath it. The girl looks bewildered, brown eyes blinking slowly once, then twice as she stands still, her damaged staff gripped in her left hand as her arm hangs against her side, her right hand relaxed against her other.

All around her, a cloud of torn papers swirls, some pieces larger than others. Remains, specters of the weaponized paper talismans she had stowed beneath the now severed cloth. Some turn to ash in the air, others are being consumed by expanding cinders, as the miko's arsenal swirls about her form.

Clearly caught off guard, she stands as if dazed, her guard lax and her offense nonexistent. But Alma's shout does not fall on deaf ears. As his cry echoes across the mountainside, the Miko of the Meian Jinja's eyes blink a third time, quicker now, their focus returned in an instant.

"Right."

Her empty right hand snaps out into the air, seizing one of the swirling bits of paper between her fingers. Even as it is touched, its surface begins to burn with a fiery, ghostly blue fire.

"Enough of this then."

Continuing in the same motion, her right foot slips forward, her hand sweeping out in an attempt to plant the snatched talisman against the robot's torso in open defiance to the threat such proximity represents.

Should contact be made, the paper will burn away in an instant, leaving an ashen brand on the robot's surface. A brand that serves as a beacon for the flock of ghostly, disembodied, grasping hands of energy that surge up out of the ground and attempt to seize the designated robot with crushingly strong holds. The more that connect, the worse it gets, with each new hand attempting to yank the robot down against the ground where it will continue to be victimized by the ghostly limbs.

At the very least, perhaps they will have the strength to freeze in place long enough for Alma's own fearsome attack to land true.

For her part, Ayame's right hand is already snapping out for another swirling paper, perhaps hoping to salvage at least one more weapon from the scattered ruin!

COMBATSYS: Alma and Ayame successfully hit Fulgore MKI Alpha with Face Your Fate.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////                       ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|=======\===----\1Fulgore MKI Alpha
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=======\====---\1           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Ichiro successfully aids himself with Remanufacture.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////                       ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|=======\===----\1Fulgore MKI Alpha
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////////              ]
                                  |=======\====---\1           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
Fulgore Beta's dead glowing eyes narrow on Alma as he charges forward, but as soon as Alma blinks out of view the robot's head snaps its gaze upon its batch-brother, wordlessly communicating at nearly the speed of light through their wireless uplink. Fulgore Alpha's head swings around just as Alma appears, its own red eyes beginning to charge up with a such a large amount of energy that it washes over the three fighters with an eerie crimson light. Just as it looks like the robot and psychic are about to clash the Fulgore unit's shoulder is jerked backwards by a ghostly hand. A small puff of smoke rises from the spot of ash left over on the battle android's torso by Ayame's curse as more and more spectral hands grasp at the technological marvel, holding it in place as Alma's brutal psi-strike barrage pounds and tears at the Fulgore unit's chestplate, exposing hidden conduits and circuits to the world as the robot is nearly pummeled to scrap by the brutal coordinated attack. "GRAAAAAH!" The Fulgore unit howls in what very nearly passes for frustration as the blinding red light in its eyes continues to charge despite the damage it has sustained until releasing a powerful machinegun-like laser barrage is unleashed in revenge on the Alma.

"Well done Alpha," Ichiro remarks coolly as he reaches for one of the sleek sci-fi looking grenades clipped to his tactical harness. "You've served your purpose." The pin pops off of the armor piercing grenade with a PING as Captain Oe lobs the ordinance towards the trio of combatants, hoping to kill the two birds with one very angry stone.

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta acquires a target.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////                       ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|=======\===----\1Fulgore MKI Alpha
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ////////////////              ]
                                  |=======\====---\1           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha successfully hits Alma with Mass Eyelaser.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ///////////////               ]
                                  |=======\===----\1           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Ichiro successfully hits Alma with Oxidizer.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Ayame            0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ///////////////               ]
                                  |=======\====---\1           Ichiro

[ALMA]
Alma's eyes shine with the power thundering through his body, its pulse matching the fulminating sounds of his hands against steel. As Ayame's sorcery pins his adversary in place, a sense of familiarity washes over him. He knows that Ayame is allied with the unknown enemy who haunts his hazy memories.

But could he and Ayame have been allies too? And if so, why?

Such questions are fruitless so long as he knows so little. The nature of these patchwork "memories" remains elusive, populated as they are by people still living now, if sometimes somewhat different than he "remembers." But it is these little glimpses, complicating at every turn the narrative he painstakingly reconstructs, that convince him that he yet pursues the truth.

This feels right. And Alma trusts that feeling.

But that feeling is abruptly dashed. As his last palm strike smashes against his robot adversary's dented head, its eyes blaze up as though vengeful. Alma's desperate attempt to raise his arms to guard is too slow to catch light. The laser blast snaps the psychic's head back and sends him staggering, briefly stunned from the impact, leaving him unable to defend himself when the grenade impacts. He is blown off his feet and send sprawling in the dirt, rolling several times before coming to a rest.

It is unclear whether he remains conscious. Under such circumstances, any sane person would at least take a breather and recollect themselves and, you know, make sure they still have all their limbs.

But Alma, like a man possessed, raises his arm. Or at least his arm raises, whether of his own volition or not it is hard to say. He hasn't raised his head from the dirt, but his hand points unerringly in Ichiro's direction. With the debris from the grenade blast still settling, he may not even be visible to his opponent.

Alma, however, can feel Ichiro's presence. And he is driven by an impulse beyond will or cognition: to reach out and make contact.

The spirit to do so leaps from his fingertips. It takes the form of a dart of shimmering flame that twists in on itself, crashing like a little wave. And only then, perhaps by the same power, does his head lift slightly, revealing eyes stil glowing.

"And what," he rasps, "is your purpose, soldier?"

Will the clash of souls reveal it?

COMBATSYS: Ichiro successfully hits Ayame with Oxidizer.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Ayame            0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ///////////////               ]
                                  |=======\=====--\1           Ichiro



[AYAME]
The cursed talisman landed, Ayame pulls her own hand back just before the targeted robot finds itself swarmed with grasping appendages that begin to pull, crush, and wrench with silent, undying purpose. By the time she has taken another step back, Alma completes the quad-natured assault with his own empowered strike, presumably sealing the war machine's fate.

"Hmph," the young woman grunts softly, quickly tucking her broken staff under her left arm, freeing her left hand to reach speedily into the end of the black fabric covering her right arm. The instinctual gesture of preparation may be precisely why she is caught flat footed by the twin retaliation that follows -

The space Alma occupied an instant before is filled with blinding light and the girl begins to raise her right arm as if to shield her eyes, left foot slipping backward a little as she braces herself.

That she snaps her left hand out, palm forward, into the path of the hurled ordinance is prove that she actually did manage to notice the projectile, but for all her speed she simply isn't fast enough to deflect this one. A small flash of pink near her outstretched hand is visible for only an instant before the young fighter is lost to the detonation that follows.

Flung at a bit of an angle away from where Alma landed, Ayame rolls through the dirt for her second rough impact with the ground this battle. Wordlessly, she tumbles, coming to rest on her side several meters away. Several seconds later, her staff slams into the soft forest soil, its splintered end sticking up, all of its crimson fire completely extinguished.

Slower to rise this time, she struggles up to one knee, left hand planted into the dirt, right arm hanging limply against her side. Her bowed head lifts in time to see Alma, somehow still conscious, reach out through the fog of war with his energy.

"Tch," she growls, pushing herself the rest the way up to standing, her left hand snapping up to the buttoned collar of her battle-scarred blouse to snap open the top button, giving room to slip fingers beneath it, near her collarbone. When her hand pulls free, a forest green paper talisman is pinched between two fingers. With a bit of a limp, she starts toward Alma, moving the talisman to her mouth where she bites down, allowing her to tear a corner of the run-covered ofuda. It glows with a vibrant, lively green aura as she takes another pained step forward.

"You had better not pass out," she snaps, dragging herself another foot forward and finally flicking her left hand's wrist, sending the emerald glowing spiritual energy flying toward Alma with expert precision. The last meter, the flying card's velocity slows, the talisman spinning in lazy circles until finally settling on the wounded psychic.

An ameliorating energy pours from it, bolstering spirit, dulling pain, and even knitting wounds just enough to stem the flow of blood.

"Your cause still needs you." she murmurs, eyes shifting focus toward where her broken staff juts up out of the ground. "Or do you finally regret taking a stand?"

COMBATSYS: Ichiro successfully hits Fulgore MKI Alpha with Oxidizer.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //                            ]
Ayame            0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ///////////////               ]
                                  |=======\======-\1           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Ichiro with Sacred Wave EX.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //                            ]
Ayame            0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0Fulgore MKI Alpha
[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////           ]
Alma             1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
                                  >  ///////////                   ]
                                  |>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
In the split second that took place between the grenade exploding and the depleted uranium shards impacting its exposed innards Fulgore Mk I Alpha's highly advanced CPU made several million calculations. One of these calculations was it's chance of surviving the impending impact. The answer was 2.3x10^-7 percent. Coincidentally, 2.3x10^-7mm also happens to be the radius of a uranium atom. That was calculation number two. The armor-piercing shrapnel shreds through the android's exposed circuitry like a soldering iron through indium, reducing the battle bot into a flaming heap of metal amidst a shower of sparks.

"REMAIN ON THE GROUND." The remaining battle android commands Alma, possibly in response to Ayame's rhetorical question. The command is punctuated by a triad of eyeblasts that, if the first connects, threaten to send Alma flying into the air to be juggled by the remaining two blasts. Stay down, fly into the air, make up your mind Fulgore Beta.

Ichiro's dark eyes squint slightly as they attempt to pierce the cloud of smoke and debris from the grenade blast. That was a direct hit, but was it enough. The answer to Ichiro's question is made very apparent as the cloud of smoke is cleaved by the young psychic's energy wave. The Sacred Wave slams into the Security Chief before he has a chance to react and the psychic energy shreds through his soul and sends him flying back to the ground. Gasping in pain with a sharp intake of breath, the soldier wastes no time before gathering himself and pushing himself back to his feet. He needs to make use of every second while his men struggle to attach the directional rocket boosters to the otherworldly being's cargo container; they wanted to remain relatively inconspicuous and travel by motor caravan, but they have to do everything in their power to keep the creature out of the hands of the ignorant and superstitious. Those who would risk destroying a source of vast knowledge and scientific discovery because of fear and a lack of vision.

"What is my purpose?" Ichiro asks as the flecks of blood return to his lips; the nanites did all they could. "My purpose is to protect my cargo. Nothing more." Ichiro trots towards his opponents, moving deliberately but covering the distance with deceptive speed. It seems like it'd be natural for Captain Oe's target to be the man he's been bantering with, but the soldier's focus is always on what makes the most sense tactically; dramatics aren't given a second thought. Pouncing toward Ayame as she attempts to invigorate and heal her partner, Ichiro's hands cross his chest as he grabs two more grenades hanging off of his battle harness and pops their pins with a PING. If he's able to make contact with the young woman Ichiro will attempt to grab fistfulls of her blouse and tomoe nage Ayame away backwards leaving the live grenades clipped to her clothing.

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha takes no action.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////            ]
Ayame            0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             1/-======/=======|>>>>---\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Alpha has suffered catastrophic damage and fallen offline.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////            ]
Ayame            0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             1/-======/=======|>>>>---\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully aids Alma with The Last Candle at Dawn.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////            ]
Ayame            0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             1/-======/=======|>>>>---\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Alma dodges Fulgore MKI Beta's Tri Laser Storm.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////            ]
Ayame            0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             1/-======/=======|>>>>---\-------\0           Ichiro

[ALMA]
Alma can't see.

The dust and debris from Ichiro's grenade blast has obscured Alma's vision and its jarring impact has rattled his mind. He has reached out into the swirling shadows and released a spark of the light that still pulses through him. But as it darts toward Ichiro it disappears from Alma's hazy view, and in the psychic's daze, for a moment he forgets who it is that he is reaching out toward. Whom was it that he was trying to reach? Where is he now?

Who has he forgotten?

As the light passes through the obscuring dust, Alma, the glow of his eyes flickering and muddied, thinks that he sees the silhouette of a figure lurking there. The thoughts of the fight fading, it does not even strike him as strange that this figure resembles neither Ayame nor Ichiro. It is a young man, shorter than he, posture warily hunched. Something about the sight of this figure causes Alma's chest to swell and eyes to widen. His struggling spirit blazes up again, all suffering gone. Confusion is banished by a singular will: for this figure's face to be illuminated at last.

Alma's flame begins to banish the shadows that shroud this person, revealing a shock of bright blond hair.

And then the sensation of the impact of his psychic strike against Ichiro shudders through him, contact with the captain's distinct aura returning Alma to the present. At once he realizes that the spirit blazing up within him is due to Ayame's restorative sorcery, and her words, unheard seconds before, are at last comprehended as they reverberate in his ears. His eyes, still widened, meet hers.

'Or do you finally regret taking a stand?'

Alma's hand--

'REMAIN ON THE GROUND.'

--gently but firmly--

'... Nothing more.'

--pushes Ayame back.

"No!"

This ensures that the laser blast that pierces the night in its path toward Alma has no chance of glancing the priestess while she is busied healing him. It may have seemed for a moment that Alma was reaching out to her. For his eyes were overflowing with a wrenching emotion unseen so far on this battlefield.

"There is more to your purpose than that--"

The laser scorches a ground where no one lies. But Alma's voice calls the eye to a spectacular sight above. Sheathed in moonlight, his body spins like a comet, one hand trailing stardust.

"--just as there is still more to mine!"

There is still someone he is seeking. Not an enemy.

"And until I grasp it, I must not be defeated!"

A friend.

He descends upon the remaining robot looking as though he holds a falling star in his hand and it is bearing him down to earth. If that orb of light, almost unbearable in its searing brightness, should touch his enemy's head, all will stop. The world will catch its breath. And all of Alma's raging emotions will, concentrated into a single hope, pass into the mechanical shell before him and rend it from the inside out, straining to the breaking any container.

COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Ichiro's Demolition Racer.

[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////            ]
Ayame            0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             0/-------/----===|>>>>---\-------\0           Ichiro



[AYAME]
"Huh-?" Ayame starts to protest when Alma's hand presses her back out of the line of potential fire. The gesture secures her safety from the burst of laser fire that rips into the now vacant ground - a dangerous reminder of the perils still taking place all around the duo even with one of the soulless killers shut down. Staggering a half-step, she catches herself in an instant and then starts to look around to remind herself where her staff landed earlier. Peering through the through the haze of fire, stirred up dust, and lingering smoke from previous laser fire and launched munitions, she finally notices it and starts to step in its direction.

"You're welcome," she mutters.

She gets eyes on Ichiro as he strides through fire, a soldier in his element, having not manged to position him by his answer to Alma's challenge due to the loud post-grenade ringing in her ears. Lifting her hands, left arm bared, she prepares herself just in case, though there is something about her posture that suggest she doesn't really expect him to attack her this instant. He should to go for Alma first - the psychic blasts have done him the most harm, let alone the verbal challenges, right? Unfortunately, she underestimates how much Ichiro subscribes to the tried and true mantra of 'Shoot the Medic.' Or, in this case, try to blow her up.

The surprise registers as she leans back, recoiling from the sudden pounce of the larger combatant. He gets into her personal space easily with his sudden lunge. She isn't helpless without her staff, but she certainly has no way to ward the man off with just her hands. Grabbed by her blouse, she stumbles a little but also begins to respond by pressing both hands out, palms first, targeting Ichiro's face. Clearly intending to bloody his nose as a worthwhile distraction, she never gets the chance as Ichiro falls back, pulling the young woman forward and then kicking her in the stomach to launch her airborn away from him. Along with two parting gifts.

"What-?"

When realization hits, Ayame is almost as fast as she was earlier when facing down the precision timed twin threats she managed to escape before. Her left hand snaps across her torso, fingers closing over the first grenade which she grips tightly, pulls free, and flings away with a backhand toss in a direction that threatens no one else this time.

She crashes hard against the ground, having made no effort to mitigate her fall this time - her priorities are clearly elsewhere. Her right hand reaches as she lays on the ground, but the clipped explosive is just out of reach on her left side. Eyes widening with the precious little time remaining, she digs her fingers into her shirt to pull it around, moving the grenade within reach, then, with one last motion, grips the grenade and rips it free. Unlike the first, this one explodes well within the danger range, detonating in the air meters away from the fallen girl and blasting her into an unplanned tumble even further to the side before she comes to rest in the dirt.

"Bastard," she spits, fueled by frustration than any noble aspirations, she forces herself to her feet, looking like she's made her way through a warzone with the amount of gunpowder burns, black scorch marks, small bleeds, and rips in her blouse.

"That does it," she takes three steps to the side, left hand snapping out to grab her staff back into her hands. It maybe missing a third of its length, but she wields it with confidence all the same as she clamps both hands over its marred surface and begins to force the crimson fire back into it, a swirling, vibrant red aura born of neither tranquility or peace swirling up around her feet.

Maybe her attacks are fueled by pure exasperation?

COMBATSYS: Ayame gathers her will.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////            ]
Ayame            0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             0/-------/----===|>>>>---\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta stops Absolution from Alma with Electroflect.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
Ayame            0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             0/-------/----===|>>>>---\-------\0           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
Punishment.

As Alma's hand, charged with blinding energy, descends towards the Fulgore Unit's shiny metal helmeted CPU the robot smoothly raises it's hands, palms extended, towards the young psychic. Thick ropes of electric plasma are suddenly generated between the android's hands and smaller tendrils of plasma instantly begin to split off and dance across Alma's hand like that plasma lamp that you always wanted when you were a kid, but cost like $100 bucks. As the electricity dances over the psychic energy held in Alma's hand, the physical manifestation of the young man's raging emotions quickly begins to dim, as if the counterattack is rapidly bleeding off the attack's energy and letting it boil away into the ether. The young psychic's finger, completely drained of energy for the moment, plunks against the Fulgore Unit's head with a hollow thump.

"It's not too late to surrender," Ichiro calmly reminds the pair, his tone genuine. Bending slightly at the waist to casually dust the off of his midnight blue tactical pants, Ichiro regards Ayame, the young woman he has beaten, battered, and nearly bodice-ripped, for a moment - almost as if hoping for a response. "If you surrender immediately," he continues are he starts to trot towards the girl as she seems to focus her energies. "No further harm should come to you." An ozone-like crackle begins to surround the Security Chief as he charges towards Ayame. A bead of sweat forms on the young soldier's brow as the static-like charge of chi continues to build up inside his body, ready to release in a large-spherical discharge surrounding the Captain as he comes within range of his target.

[ALMA]
The atmosphere grows oppressive.

Alma's Soul Power spirals off in every direction, its visibility fading into the darkness as the Fulgore prototype redirects the energy. But although the spiritual light vanishes, it does not immediately disperse. The soldiers struggling to attach the rocket boosters to their precious cargo must shake off a weight settling upon them that threatens to numb their minds and dull their focus. The glow dwindles in Alma's eyes as this manifestation of his conviction floods the world around him. But his expression retains its wide-eyed intensity.

With relentless determination, he continues pushing his hand toward his opponent's metal skull. Yet by the time he makes contact, it appears that all his power is gone. The flames have disappeared, from his hand and from his eyes. A moment passes in which Alma remains suspended in air, as though braced by his palm upon Fulgore.

In that passing second, he takes a single deep breath.

"Haaaaah!"

The fiber of a person's being is woven of a multitude of strands, each one a purpose, great and small. Alma must apprehend Ichiro's cargo. He must ensure no one is seriously harmed in the process. He owes Ayame thanks. All this and more is true, but within him now a single bright thread quivers, one great purpose sewn close to his heart. Wherever it leads must be his essence. Alma, like Theseus in the labyrinth, takes hold and follows it.

Having released his breath in a yell, Alma's grip tightens and his eyes blaze up once again. What follows is an elegant series of feints. First, though his spiritual power surges swiftly, he does not immediately attack. He uses the robot's head as leverage to flip down into a crouch behind it. Second, he is already spinning as he does so, but he does not attempt another sweep kick like before. Instead, his palm slapping against the dirt for balance, he kicks high from his crouching position. Yet, third, the kick curls instead of striking directly, aiming to slip around a block attempt and wrap the leg around the robot's head. Only then, bursting again with gauzy flame, does Alma complete the rotation of his body to hurl the Fulgore prototype down to the ground with all the physical and psychic force he can muster. If successful, his opponent will erupt with a plume of ethereal flame upon its cratering impact, leaving Alma with enough momentum from the turn to smoothly rise to his feet.

"There's more," he murmurs, "where that came from."

All the while, the mental pressure he has begun to exude continues to radiate around him, producing eerie effects upon electrical energy in the vicinity. Spotlights begin to flicker, and the robot he battles may find its capacity to rechannel Alma's power pushed to its limit.

COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to reflect Demanufacture from Ichiro with By Meridian's Vain Ambition.
- Power fail! -

[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                  \\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0           Ichiro



[AYAME]
Ayame meets Ichiro's eyes, mouth a thin line of concentration as she builds the energy around her, pulling heavily from the environment either to fuel a new assault or reinvigorate reserves well spent by the ongoing battle. For all her complaining, it isn't with anger or fury that she regards the Captain, but almost dispassionate study, eyes flicking past the man now and then to keep an eye on Alma's contest of will against the metallic sentinel and the progress on readying the cargo container for launch.

"No, I believe it is too late," she replies, voice terse, concentration dedicated to the energy she builds, starting to look ever so slightly pensive as Ichiro comes after her again. Eyes flick to the side again, just in time to notice the Fulgore unit dismantling a tremendous attack from Alma with a discharge of hyper controlled power and her brow twitches slightly. "We have gone too far down this course."

Her left hand slides along her staff, fingers playing lightly over the splintered end, lips forming a faint frown as she does so. Eyes flick toward Alma again, the psychic knight redoubling his efforts to strike out against the robotic warrior a second time, and then she's back to focusing on Ichiro, left foot slipping back as she braces herself, clearly trying to get a read on what he might do next.

Hopefully it doesn't involve more grenades.

Eyes widen a little as the air begins to crackle around the battle hardened Captain, the young woman clearly having been expecting something involving more direct, brute physical force based on what she'd seen of him so far. Her mouth opens a little, mind racing, trying to predict the direction of an attack that feels like it's building all around the resolved soldier as he charges her.

"You seem like a good leader," she remarks, right hand tightening its grip on her staff, "I am sorry your men will have to see you fall!"

Weapon seized tightly, she slams her staff vertically down against the ground, a burst of crimson energy erupting up in front of her as if to form a small wall - a barrier to fend off the burst of force exploding out from around Ichiro.

A chi grenade, it seems. Just as bad.

She seems safe though, behind the staff-reinforced shield of burning crimson, the entire defense braced by her right arm. It should last long enough-

There is sound of wood shattering, the remaining portion of her staff breaking under the strain its already damaged wooden construct was not ready to endure. Ayame's eyes widen, the young woman drawing back in alarm as her barrier collapses, lost in the swath of brilliant power discharging from Ichiro.

Blasted backward, Ayame manages to keep her balance, if but barely, arms flailing at her sides to catch herself before finally coming to a stop a couple meters back. Sucking in her breath, she cries out in a short gasp of pain, crumpling forward, her left knee hitting the dirt as her right hand rests over her stomach, shoulders rising and falling as she suffers from having the breath knocked out of her lungs. Her right sleeve is tatters up to her elbow, her cheeks flushed with what is likely a tumultuous blend of pain and frustration, the young woman looks slow to rise for that moment.

COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Fulgore MKI Beta with Sea of Flame.

[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                  \\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////                    ]
Alma             0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
The Fulgore Unit's head makes a noticeable whirring sound as its blue targeting laser projector attempts to track Alma as he dodges, ducks, dips, dives, and dodges around the autonomous battle android in a flurry of feints. Not even the cutting edge billion dollar machine seems to be able to preempt the young psychic's complicated attack as the psychicly-infused leg hooks Fulgore Beta and slams it to the ground in a large gout of empyrean flame. The blast of energy vibrates through the rigid metal structure of the robot, the psychic wave seeming to interfere with the mechanical unit's power systems as its eyes and plasma blades flicker and various subsystems crash and reboot within nanoseconds. The Fulgore unit doesn't appear to be very shaken by its predicament as it pushes itself to its feet, but if the relative simplicity of the straightforward punching strike that the it retaliates with, complete with a still flickering plasma blade, is any indication it's not doing so hot.

Running a gloved hand through his static-frizzed hair, Ichiro casually strolls up to the recovering Ayame as she wearily tries to return to her feet and attempts to help her by grabbing her by the throat. "Yes, prehaps it is too late after all," Ichiro growls as attempts to pull Ayame by her neck and leverage her over an outstretched knee to slam her brutally into the ground; so he does have emotions after all. "You have delayed us enough as it is."

COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Fulgore MKI Beta's Medium Strike.

[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////                     ]
Alma             1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0           Ichiro

[ALMA]
The moment his opponent falls with a crash, Alma gasps for breath. His momentum has carried him through an intricate combination. His spiritual power is surging once again, mere moments after it appeared to have been dispelled into the surroundings. Even as bystanders struggle with the aftereffects of that psychic diffusion, Alma's mental powers are rejuvenating. Yet though his soul may thrill, there is only so much his body can take.

His limbs grow numb, his breath draws short. The vision that so electrified him has rapidly pushed him past his physical limits. The body is no mere engine of the mind, and it will not long endure being so treated.

Even his mechanical opponent seems to strain. Its plasma strike is slower than before. But with Alma's trembling arms, it is still unclear if he will be able to defend himself in time, even in the throes of passion. He falters as he raises a hand to guard, blood still oozing from the previous wound upon that arm.

But emerging from that hand comes a shimmering blade of psychic power, blocking the robot's slash with a shower of sparks. Alma's body spasms briefly from the impact. Even though he has been spared another injury, his overextension of his psychic abilities is sending reverbations through him. Yet he does not flinch.

"I--"

He attempts to beat the Fulgore prototype's blade to the side and slam his fist down on the robot's mechanical arm, shearing and striking in the same motion as psychic blade and physical blow combine.

"--will--"

He then slashes across his opponent's chest toward the opposite shoulder, the momentum turning him in a graceful twirl that belies his condition.

"--not--"

This flows into a hooking punch to the robot's side that aims to break through what defenses it retains, the sheer force of it, imbued with radiant pink, enough to perforate steel.

"--yield!"

And, at last, pivoting on the ball of his foot, a final uppercut with the affixed psychic blade directly under the Fulgore prototype's chin, threatening to spear right through. It appears that the obligation to not seriously harm does not apply to robots.

COMBATSYS: Ayame just-defends Ichiro's Transgenic!

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////                     ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0           Ichiro



[AYAME]
Lifting her face to watch Ichiro's advance, Ayame flinches. Bruised, scorched, and gasping for breath, she finds only the useless remains of her shattered staff strewn about her and the swirling cinders of prepared talismans reduced to ash. Wincing, hand still pressed to stomach, she bows her head, her long hair strewn about her shoulders as she appears unable to rise.

The area is aglow with lingering flames and the occasional vibrant flashes of emotion and energy as Alma does battle with the metal man off to the side. If he falls, she will be left alone against more than she can handle in her condition. But if she falls, the resolute soldier will be able to turn on Alma next. They need each other now if they are to survive this final stretch.

Coughing as her lungs spasm with a vague understanding of what it means to breath, Ayame tightens her hands in the dark forest soil, her eyes glancing toward the tattered black cloth covering her upper right arm. Grimacing, she looks up again as her ally engages the remaining robotic warrior in an intense, melee range dance of kinetic force and pure will. Sucking in her breath, she looks back toward Ichiro as he finishes closing the distance between them.

Has he slowed? Can she possibly take him down? His arsenal has been dangerous and his close quarters skills certainly not to be taken lightly. But everyone has to have their limits, even if her own attack vectors are sorely limited now that many of her weapons have been destroyed.

Alma's cry echoes against the mountainside, bearing willpower that refuses to break under any duress. Eyes snap up to Ichiro as he speaks and reaches for her throat and, borrowing on the resolve of another, the young woman surges up wordlessly. She lunges shoulder first, left hand sweeping out to knock aside the grasping arm reaching for her, before continuing on into trying to tackle the trained soldier outright.

Unable to speak, she musters a wordless cry, trying to get a hold of Ichiro. She'd try to bowl him over, though the stature disparity between them may render that ambition quite out of reach. But she would cling to him all the same, if not prevented, fingers clenched into the straps that sport his grenades, legs wrapping around his waist. The desperate assault may lack elegance and, at first, does not even pose any kind of danger, looking very much like the last gasp effort of one completely exhausted on options.

But if she catches hold of the Ultratech elite, Ayame will lean her face down near the frayed remants of her right sleeve, coming away with a grey talisman between her teeth. A shake of her head and the talisman ignites with black flame before the combat sorceress attempts to plant it right against Ichiro's chest with her lips before he has a chance to dislodge the featherweight clinging to him.

Contact would be enough to trigger the effect, unleashing ethereal black tendrils of shaped chi that would pierce through Ichiro's body without actually destroying flesh. Instead, they would weave through his essence, seeking to sap strength and spear into the earth itself, rooting him in place!

Even if this ends up being the last time she manages to distract him, maybe it will give Alma the time he needs to make good on his refusal to yield.

COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Fulgore MKI Beta with Trial by Fire.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  //                            ]
Ayame            0/-------/---====|=======\===----\1 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////                     ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0           Ichiro

COMBATSYS: Ichiro endures Ayame's Anchor Through the Endless Dark.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  //                            ]
Ayame            0/-------/--=====|=======\===----\1 Fulgore MKI Beta
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Alma             0/-------/------=|=======\-------\0           Ichiro

[ICHIRO]
The cold soulless eyes of the Fulgore prototype don't show any sign of surprise as Alma summons his own blade of soul power and manages to beat the robotic monstrosity's plasma-blade aside. Its hard metallic face doesn't twist in pain even as the young psychic jams the shimmering pink blade through its arm, rending metal and wire in a shower of sparks as the Fulgore unit's bladed arm falls to the ground with a metallic clatter before slashing it across the chest, exposing more of its hi-tech innards. It doesn't even react when the final energy-sheathed hooking strike punches through the robot's heavily armored side causing its power systems to flicker and overcharge erratically. The blinding light of the Fulgore prototype's malfunctioning systems arcing electricity and sparking brightly bounces off of the forested road, almost makes the robot seem to flash as it threatens catastrophic failure.

"OVERLOADING SYSTEMS." The Fulgore unit intones as it, sensing its end is near, reroutes its power system into runaway feedback loop. "FULGORE OFFLINE," it adds finally as the robot's hydrogen fuel cell explodes, hopefully catching the meddling psychic in the blast.

Ichiro smiles weakly as Ayame grabs ahold of him with a primal cry and wrestles him to the ground, her pleated skirt settling around the two as she wraps her legs around the young soldier's waist, his teeth red with blood as both fighters look to be on the edge of consciousness. "You're too late..." Ichiro informs the young woman straddling him as the magnetic rocketboosters that his soldiers have finally finished attaching to the huge cargo container housing the otherworldly creature fire to life. His security team begins to scramble on top of the container as the metal structure begins to creak and groan loudly as the force of rocket fire strains to lift the container off of the ground. "I'm sorry, but you're too late." Ichiro reaches for Ayame's upper arm and shoulder as she retrieves the dangerous talisman from her sleeve and presses her lips against his chest, unleashing her sealing curse.

Rather than try and throw the woman off of him, the stoic soldier attempts to grab her and pull her tightly against his body, his well-trained muscles squeezing the girl with rib-cracking strength as a familiar charge begins to fill the air between the entwined opponents. Ichiro then unleashes a burst of electric chi that will dance and arc over both fighters painfully if he's able to keep ahold of the warrior priest. Successful or not, Ichiro will slump to the ground unconscious after the electric discharge, hopeful that his men will be able to get away with the payload and ensure the success of their mission.

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta has suffered catastrophic damage and fallen offline.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Ayame            0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0           Ichiro
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  <
Alma             0/-------/------=|

COMBATSYS: Ichiro can no longer fight.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  <
Ayame            0/-------/--=====|
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  <
Alma             0/-------/------=|

COMBATSYS: Fulgore MKI Beta successfully hits Alma with Heavy Artillery.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  <
Ayame            0/-------/--=====|
[                         \\\\\  <
Alma             0/-------/--=====|

[ALMA]
Alma shudders with the impact of fist against metal. When his final strike sends electricity arcing in all direction, the psychic stands with fist aloft, pearlescent flames still licking at his fingertips. Properly he should return to a balanced stance immediately. But his mind is blank from his efforts, and even were it not, his body could not respond.

All that he can feel in this moment is the sense of fulfillment that comes with reaching out -- and making contact.

He inhales abruptly in a great gasp. Rushing in with the air comes other sensations. The roar of firing rockets. The smell of fumes. The crisp night air. The psychic resonance of Ayame's determination. The enemy captain's own resolve. And the coming--

'FULGORE OFFLINE.'

--of trial by fire.

Alma barely has time to lower his hand into a semblance of a guard position before the massive explosion consumes him. As the robot's body is ripped apart by the blast, the earth is rent beneath them, the blinding light obscuring them from view. All that can be seen is the crater beneath them expanding, sending debris hurtling dangerously close toward the cargo container.

Only silence follows as the soil rains down. And then--

The sound of helicopter rotors, approaching from afar.

"... won't ..."

And a quiet, rasping voice.

"... yield."

Alma stands. The crater has expanded around him, as though he is poised on the last remaining slice of a pie. His pants are shredded, his shirt vaporized, chest silently heaving. The arm he managed to raise before the moment of the blast remains upheld. Its previous wound, from one of the robot's plasma blade, has expanded into a bloody fissure, like a river spawning tributaries. But the limb is miraculously intact, as is the rest of his body. And brief observation shows the clue to his survival, in the blood itself: it glitters faintly as it drips into the pit below. Alma's wound did not expand because of the blast. It expanded as, in his desperation to summon yet more power in his defense, he forced telekenetic pressure through his injured limb just in time to shield himself.

At last the arm drops, slapping limply against his side. But Alma, breathing heavily, channels the remnants of a flickering flame into his other arm, which rises slowly, pointing toward the soldiers who have paused in their hurry with the cargo. Black helicopters now hover above, thundering in the night, blocking off the planned withdrawal. Before any tactical recalculations can be made, Alma fires off another dart of psychic flame in their direction as a warning shot. The soldiers are no cowards and Alma is in obviously poor condition, but victory now seems impossible. It is likely they will begin to withdraw.

Only then does Alma turn slowly, almost creakingly, to see how his improbable ally Ayame has fared. Does she, too, remain unyielding?

COMBATSYS: Alma takes no action.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  <
Ayame            0/-------/--=====|
[                         \\\\\  <
Alma             0/-------/--=====|

COMBATSYS: Ichiro successfully hits Ayame with Soul Wound.

[                        \\\\\\  <
Ayame            0/-------/=======|
[                         \\\\\  <
Alma             0/-------/--=====|



[AYAME]
In this situation, Ayame is a split second faster than Ichiro, planting the ash grey talisman with her mouth with the intent of removing him from the fight. Then the robot can be dealt with alongside Alma, and then the cargo, provided the remaining foot soldiers don't try to get too brave...

She lifts her head after the most unpleasant fairy tale kiss ever, leaving the ebony ethereal energy to course through Ichiro's essence and secure him to the ground. He would feel the press of her left hand against his chest as she looked up to survey the final exchange between man and machine and the violent explosion that punctuates it.

Cringing, she stares toward the smoke field crater, only just making out the lone psychic standing, his attire in ruins, his body bloodied but not bent. One can hardly fault her a moment of lingering attention as the ringing gradually leaves her ears. Eyes flick over to the cargo container at the sound of rocket fire echoes over the forested mountain. She blinks - they are too late then, after all that... But then another sound reaches her ears, that of rotor blades bearing reinforcements from Alma's cause, and Ayame suddenly becomes tense even as Ichiro points out the futility of caring at this point.

The young fighter begins to push away, sucking in her breath, agitation pressing her back into action while every ache and pain demands otherwise, but she isn't fast enough to escape the Captain's last ditch effort to stall his interfering opponent just long enough. Pulled down flat against his chest, she tries to pry her way free, another cry cut short as stressed bones creak and an unpleasantly familiar power builds.

Electric chi courses out over the two, another brilliant flash in a night of countless color. Barely conscious in Ichiro's arms, the strawberry-blonde blinks her eyes open. Pressing up against his chest, her hand lingers, finding evidence that he is in fact still breathing, though her expression, marred by soot and blood, would be hard to read.

"No, it's not too late... not quite yet."

Shaking her head, she looks up at the helicoptors preventing the full ascent of the rocket lifted cargo container. Grimacing, Ayame runs her fingers deftly over the top of Ichiro's uniform before finally pulling herself free and getting to her feet, the picture of battle-tested disarray. Even still, strands of her long hair drift up around her and now and then, small forks of concentrated, bright white chi spark out from her. Standing up straight, however, she pats at her tattered blouse, fingers slipping between the buttons to re-clasp a couple of them, ending with the one at her neck. Adjusting her collar to be centered properly, she strides toward Alma - considering the confidence with which she moves, one could be forgiven for not noticing the tremble in the young woman's limbs.

Now and then she glances skyward, toward the hovering choppers overhead, before her focus returns to the wounded artist. Is that a smile playing at the corner of her lips?

"That wasn't so hard, now as it."

She muses, left hand slipping into a pocket in the side of her black pleated knee-length skirt. "Your arm is wounded bad," she continues, drawing out another one of her talismans - this one bears the pallor of the grave, an unseemly light green. She's standing adjacent to Alma now, smoke still largely obscuring most of what is taking place on the ground though the fierce downdraft from above is starting to clear things up a little.

"Let me help," she states, her voice earnest, eyes downcast, left hand reaching out to plant the talisman against Alma's bared chest with a delicate seeming hand...

Her thoughts are guarded, intentions hidden behind mental walls of unyielding will. It would be sufficient to catch most sensitives completely off guard.

But will it be enough?

COMBATSYS: Alma fails to interrupt A Long Road to Harmony from Ayame with Divine Intervention.

[                        \\\\\\  <
Ayame            0/-------/=======|

COMBATSYS: Alma can no longer fight.

[                        \\\\\\  <
Ayame            0/-------/=======|

[ALMA]
Alma turns just in time to see Ayame electrified by the resilient captain's last-ditch attack. The psychic starts visibly, his torso turning as though to move towards them, but stops. Partly it is because Ayame soon stirs and begin extracting herself from Ichiro's embrace. Partly it is because his legs will not budge.

His erstwhile ally approaches him. For a moment, despite the grime of battle, she somehow looks to Alma as when they first met at the gates to her family's shrine, grimly determined, unfaltering and betraying no weakness. He has felt her resolve before, and seen her ability. But he never came close to understanding her motives.

"Ayame."

He doesn't reply to her ironic comment.

"I know that you won't tell me," he says, "who 'he' is." When they last met, a vision spoke through Alma, and for all his adventures, he has come no closer to comprehending it. All he knows is that Ayame is close to 'the enemy' who haunts his fragmented dreams. "But if do you know 'him,' then tell me this--"

Alma's voice is hoarse. He seems to speak in a daze, eyes occasionally unfocusing, their glow dimmed to a faint kindling. In the crater beneath them, amid burnt scraps of cloth, a scorched little black box begins to buzz insistently. It is the communicator that Alma secretly triggered with telekinesis before, providing a beacon for the reinforcements that now hover above. The psychic either ignores it or does not hear it.

"I had a friend once, a dear friend." Alma's voice grows thick with emotion, his eyes on Ayame's. "I feel he was the person most dear to me in all the world. But until now I have forgotten him completely, as though he never were. Do you know--"

His eyes drift down to his own wounded arm as Ayame remarks on it, reaching out to his chest with apparent concern, as though to heal him as she healed him before.

"--who he is--?"

He blinks, then, in surprise, as he sees his own arm flare up with a plume of scintillating flame. For the recesses of his psyche sense what he consciously does not. The power gathering in Ayame's talisman is not what he had sensed before. His body remembers, and it still courses with the power of his soul. His bloodied arm snaps up, open palm aiming for Ayame's face as the fire gathering there surges and brightens, as Alma gazes down his arm at her with an expression of bemusement, not having yet processed his own act of self-defense.

The talisman activates with a flash.

Alma's body spasms once. The flame that had threatened to erupt a moment before dissipates. He is still. Then, slowly, that arm drops, and with it he simply folds in on himself. He sinks down to his knees, head slumping, almost as though in relief. One might expect something further. But the moment after his body spasmed, the talisman's force passing through him, he was already unconscious.

The helicopters continue to hover in place, the communicator buzzing below.



[AYAME]
At Alma's pleading question, Ayame offers only two words in answer, the betrayer's talisman already in her fingers.

'... a dear friend.'
"You did."

The words come tersely but not impatiently, as if uttering them were in some way painful for her though her expression evinces no such sentiment. It is the only knowledge he will glean from her this night. That his impressions are not delusions. And that the untrustworthy girl in front of him knows.

For now, that will have to suffice. Moments later, in spite that last chance flash of instinct, her fingers place the ofuda drawn from her pocket against the psychic's flesh and the treacherous attack fires. It acts in an instant, stunning though not harming, pushing a man at the brink of the abyss over the edge.

Ayame does not reach to slow his slump, instead dropping to one bare knee adjacent to him, fingers reaching out to snap up the buzzing communicator. The fog of war begins to clear, leaving the two obscured for only a precious few seconds longer as she cradles the device in her palm, caramel brown eyes flicking to Alma.

"You I would trust. But this prize cannot fall into anyone's hands."

Her voice is soft, for his unhearing ears only. Sucking in her breath, Ayame leans back her head, eyes skyward as the last wisps of smoke start to be driven away. Then she lowers her face toward the device in her palm, continuing to kneel at Alma's side.

Lifting the communicator to her mouth, the young woman's eyes widen as if in alarm, her voice ringing out, loud against the thundering rotors.

"Can you hear me?! I'm with your man, he's been hurt bad! T-There's no time to waste! The container, it- oh god, oh god, i-it has some kind of, some kind of psychic bomb inside! You have to blow it up!"

Her voice is plaintive and panicked with a hint of a mind nearly unhinged by the horror of impending, inescapable death.

"Your guy, h-he asked me to tell you before he fell! Vaporize it! It's already activated, it's about to go off!! He said everyone in this state is going to die if you don't!"

She pauses, gasping for breath, sounds of sobbing audible through the communicator as she rocks on her knees, shoulders shaking.

"Please!"

She lowers her hand to her lap, looking up toward the cargo container. The soldiers operating around the slowly lifting, heavy mass will have a brief opportunity to leap free of the bulky target just before the first missile impacts the side with an explosive that sends the trees shaking. A second missile hits one and a half seconds later, and the sky is aglow with a massive fireball.

Ayame gets to her feet, stepping behind Alma and leaning over him, her left side and shoulder toward airborne destruction. Her left hand snaps out, a shimmering quarter-sphere of vibrant crimson manifesting toward the incoming blast wave of superheated metal shrapnel and roasted flesh of the ancient. Her arm trembles, her barrier holding just long enough as blood seeps down her extended limb.

Finally, her arm falls limp against her side and she lifts the communicator to her lips, "You did it... you saved us... come get us, we need medical help bad..."

By the chopper lands, the communicator beacon will have been left next to Alma.

The young man's bygone ally is nowhere to be found.

COMBATSYS: Ayame has ended the fight here.

Log created on 00:04:53 08/15/2017 by Alma, and last modified on 16:50:23 09/04/2017.