Action Log /// 002
Who: Mitsuo, Max, and Heine [Open to anyone who thinks they can help, or wants to capitalize on the chaos.]
What: Saving Mitsuo from an Ogre.
Where: Near the Archives.
When: Post-Plane Shift.
( ... )
What: Saving Mitsuo from an Ogre.
Where: Near the Archives.
When: Post-Plane Shift.
( ... )
Giovanni slowed up at the foot of the steps, watching them all, his mouth pressed thin; next to him, the Dobermann sat down obediently. Well. It wouldn't be any great chore for one of them to open it, eventually. However. Having seen their little gathering up to this point, having watched them so far, his patience and his desire to wait and lie low and observe was already starting to wear thin. The heat in his throat, spreading out from the back of his neck, was filled with urgency, impulse, a far more intent desire. He could still smell the blood of the monster they killed. He'd traipsed through it in his pursuit of them, and it reeked.
Waiting wasn't something he was prepared to do.
He flicked open the button of his jacket until it fell loose, slid his fingers inside and up the side, across smooth, tough leather, and then metal.
The BANG was sudden and loud, followed up by another sharp BANG, and the whole door swung suddenly loose, the latch flopping around helplessly like a windsock. He put the gun away neatly, but didn't bother to re-button his jacket.
"I hope this doesn't indicate that you're low on bullets, Heine."
With that done, he looked back up at their group from behind the lens of his opaque glasses. His mouth pulled into an unpleasant smile, baring his teeth.
"... You've been too conservative."
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Mitsuo's running steps echoed in her ears and internally she rolled her eyes. Typical.
"What the hell?" she snapped. Whatever happened to kicking open locked doors? Was that just not cool enough anymore?
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Of course. Of course, that voice. He hadn't even bothered to check who was here and who wasn't from his world. Everything had gone by so fast, this incident suddenly involving him in a trek through the infested streets of this city.. To think an Ogre was now the least of his worries-and possibly the least of Max's and Mitsuo's as well-wasn't exactly a surprise.
It wasn't complete without him there. It wasn't complete if Heine was here by himself, able to walk the streets without looking over his shoulder. And all things had to be complete to function at their best, whether it be a puzzle presenting a grand image to admire or the gun that needed to be able to fire.
Same went for Heine, even if he never would admit it.
The albino stared forward past the robot and into the library atrium, not yet turning around. "Only for opening doors," Heine replied. It was then that he turned to face Giovanni as Max already had, his emotions on this sudden meeting hard to read. There were too many factors: Giovanni, Mitsuo, Max, Musphelheim, Childs, limited ammo, Giovanni.
Heine's expression finally settled for the smallest twitch of a fake smile. He was used to shit hitting the fan all the time on missions with Badou, but this was... not exactly the same, was it?
Nothing was initially said to Max: he didn't tell her to run or stay, trusting her to make her own best judgment for her wellbeing although he did mutter a "Next time we just let the ogre eat him and deal with Smoker blowing his top." His finishing words were just a little bit more sarcastic toward their new guest.
"You know I always have enough to deal with you, Giovanni."
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If Giovanni was at all troubled by the commotion he was causing, he didn't look it; that wan smile fixed in place, scanning from the girl to the robot to Heine (with the other having disappeared, run off at the first sign of trouble), he raised his hands, palms up and out and fingers slightly, lazily curled, and positioned them up next to his head. Presumably for the robot's sake.
No guns. You see?
He cocked his head, looking at the girl there when she whirled to face him, meeting her look steadily. Having flown overhead, she was the reason he'd had to duck off of the roof, observe from inside a building so as not to be seen.
It's become a trend with you, isn't it, Heine? These winged blonde girls. These partners. Have you forgotten what happens to the ones you trust?
(And now that you know. What are you going to do? You didn't kill the last one. You can't kill anything.
Useless trash.)
"You aren't going to introduce me to your friend?" He moved towards the steps, still with his hands up, raised one foot to start ascending. The dog lifted itself slowly, shook off, and followed. "... You thought you were alone. It's why you're here now, isn't it? Because you thought I wouldn't be watching."
Two steps up, he stopped.
"I opened the door."
So why don't you go on.
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“Sounds like a plan,” she muttered back. In truth, of course, she would not have changed a thing if given a second chance. With a firm conscience she’d gone to Smoker in order to help the helpless, and Mitsuo seemed to fit pretty well into that category; it didn’t matter how many times some nut stalked them in the end.
At Giovanni’s taunting her eyes narrowed in great distaste, wings rustling restlessly. A very long time had been spent learning to keep her mouth shut. It was still near impossible and her jaw twitched with the effort, she had so many biting things she wanted to say to this stranger, but Heine was the primary target. She didn’t intend to mark herself with a giant bulls-eye just yet.
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It was the part of himself that felt no fear.
It took a half step to the side, placing itself slightly in front of Max. The movement cleared the door.
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Seemed so.
Again, he felt cornered. Bigger than Giovanni's threat alone, the possibility of the Dog reaching out to take over just as it did for a short period last time, becoming just as dangerous in terms of Mitsuo and Max. And he could already tell, that this particular confrontation wasn't about putting bullet holes into one another (although it rarely stopped them from doing it, anyway).
Heine weighed the options, weighed his personal agenda, and weighed Mitsuo and Max's presence. In the end, there was only one choice that was slightly less ludicrous in this situation out of all possible options.
"We need to get that stupid kid," he said quietly to Max, never taking his eyes off Giovanni. "And get the hell out of here now. You go in first." He really didn't care particularly like Max did about doing the right thing, but he sure as hell didn't want to be the one responsible for one of them getting shot. He didn't care what Smoker had to say either, but to avoid having to listen to him, he'd make the effort for now.
He made a face in regards to the robot, wondering if it was any good at deflecting bullets.
With his luck, it wouldn't be. And why why why did it have to be on this plane of all planes (their elements alone made this a one-sided handicapped battle), why did it have to be now that Giovanni showed himself, of all the times just-
"That was real nice of you to do so," he replied concerning the door, sounding a lot more relaxed than he was in his head. Heine stood his ground for the moment, but the tension in his body was clearly defensive, untrusting, and anticipating.
"Hope you're good at hide and seek," he said to Max quietly, but a little more rushed and louder than before. "Because we're about to play it. Go."
-What a pain in the ass this was going to be.
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Heine was already preparing for the worst, and Giovanni couldn't particularly blame him for it; he didn't precisely mean to leave this meeting without a bullet-hole or two, without their shared blood spread across the ground and the wall of the Archives. He looked between the pair, half-listening as Heine muttered his little orders, some more audible than others. What could Heine possibly have to say to her though, hahah, really. Run and steer clear? Fly away, little bird. Even the robot seemed to be taking protective measures for her, as though Heine wasn't the only one with a soft spot.
... Being overprotective is like advertising a vulnerability.
"You have no manners. Cutting me out of the conversation." He took another movement up the steps. The dog followed, matching perfectly, its flopped ears pricking just slightly as though listening in for itself. It licked its muzzle and panted, and its teeth seemed too sharp and too numerous in its mouth, the jaw heavy and unnatural on a dog of its type. Giovanni rested a hand at his hip, casually.
And then he thrust both hands into his jacket, drew his guns from opposite sides, and levelled them on them both. One gun per person - though, that did leave the robot, but that was why his gestalt was prowling its way up the steps, its head down low.
"Shall I count for you, as well?" The question was posed to Max, then, and it seemed that even for having done everything right, that big bulls-eye had already been painted. By Heine, and Heine's attention, and Heine's protection.
"I'll go up to ten."
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She could sense Heine's tension. He'd had less when running towards the felled ogre, and that hound by Giovanni's side; nothing spelled well for any of them. Leaving any comrade of any kind behind to face this trouble went against every piece of her that screamed to stay and fight.
But then there was Mitsuo, who by all appearances couldn't fight. They'd come out for him, so she would see it through that he get away alive at the cost of nearly anything. Goals were necessary. Goals would keep her sane in this place.
Her eyes fixed on the gun's barrel. Nothing new, she reminded herself, despite the start that ran through her. Keep a steady beat.
"Go ahead. I'm a pro at this game."
Heine had simply said "Go". And she did, spinning behind Mitsuo's gestalt, leaping into the library, and side-stepping behind the walls before taking off to find their prince charming. Hopefully he had not hurt himself on something yet.
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Inside the Archives, Mitsuo had only made it across the first anteroom, before he reached another door he couldn't open on his own; he cowered there against it, barely aware of what his gestalt was doing.
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Upon reaching Mitsuo she grabbed his arm to pull him away from the locked door. No, she intended to go every which way, through every door and hallway she could find, so long as it meant getting out decently undead.
"Come on," she commanded sternly. "We've got ten seconds maybe."
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Mitsuo frowned at her, his hair in his vacant eyes and his mouth set in a petulant line.
"The door is locked," he said, as if that were the only choice. To sit and wait and die and hope for the best. His heart was racing, but his face was completely impassive.
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She shot a glance towards the great double doors she'd just sprinted through and back to him. His fight response had not yet shown itself, and his flight had sputtered to a panicked stop. Max wasn't used to this kind of reaction, wasn't used to protecting someone who she hadn't already conditioned to stay quiet and run despite all odds or attack with everything available.
"You have to listen to me." Max gestured towards a narrow corridor that led away from the anteroom to another chamber. What laid beyond was as much his guess as hers, but as long as it had another door, a window, a vent, there was potential. "Listen to me and you live."
Less than four seconds.
"Now, for God's sake, run. I'll be behind you."
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"Onward and upward," he muttered, and stood. There was still that odd feeling, like an itch in his veins--- but movement actually seemed to help. Once he started, it was easy enough to flee; he had enough instinct for that, once he'd been prodded.
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