Who: Kengamine Nagi [
striginae ] & OPEN
Where: Elysium ; junction between residential and shopping districts
When: Mid-evening
Summary: The world's not quite fair, is it? Not fair for anyone -- not for Owl, broken, beaten, insane -- and not fair for you, either, any of you in his way.
Rating: R for violence
Other: Nagi is generally going through the
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Piercing screams broke Grell's reverie as he leapt another building - he came to a graceful halt at the next rooftop and peered down at the street below to observe the scene unfolding. Blood. So much pooling, splattered, brilliant, beautiful red blood, highlighting the pristine streets of NeoGenesis' upper crust - it was a magnificent sight, like a fine painting in progress. Grell flipped a stray lock of crimson hair over his shoulder and chuckled. "Gorgeous," he murmured, breathless, and nimbly leapt down to a lower rooftop for a closer look.
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And then, a sudden movement, out of the corner of his vision -- but not at ground level. Too large to be an animal, and far too fast. Still kneeling on the ground over a desecrated corpse that he'd torn apart in blind rage, Nagi whirled around to face the figure on the roof, streaks of blood immediately starting to circle him. Forming circles of red. Limbs tensed, nerves on end, eyes narrowed behind the mask into a glare, lips curved back in the beginnings of a snarl. (Who are you?)
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Oh, and the conductor, the maestro of this massacre - it appeared he'd taken notice of Grell. The shinigami grinned anew and leapt down another rooftop level to approach the master at work and offer his accolades.
"Darling!" The clear lilt of his voice sliced easily through the cacophony of screams. "I've been watching you! You're quite the artist here, aren't you? Color me impressed."
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And he continued to watch this other figure drawing near. Knowing, instinctively, that this was different. Something odd, something strange -- something that was fundamentally off.
Several half-dead figures crawled at his feet, writhing in their last moments, but not that it mattered. A low hiss -- then a swipe of the hand through the air. And a barrage of bloody orbs went streaking through the air, aiming to bring down this newcomer.
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The shinigami hadn't been expecting that, and he was knocked off his feet by the force of the explosions. He landed hard, and his scythe, knocked loose from his grip, skittered across the rooftop a short distance away. Grell blinked, and chuckled as he calmly climbed to his feet again.
"Darling, it's not very nice to attack your admirers - especially a lady." Grell dusted off the arm of his scarlet wool frock coat, now marred with charred streaks. His red-stained lips twisted downward into a slight frown. "I just bought this coat, too."
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His hatred towards anyone alive most certainly applied to this person as well. But ascending to a rooftop -- a waste of time. The mask obscuring the upper half of his face, he looked eerily impassive, expression a blood-stained blank, as he maintained the concentrated stare at this strange figure.
Then, without hesitation, the slashing gesture of fingers the the air -- sending a thick barrage of red orbs to close in on the other from all directions.
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"You're beginning to try my patience, my dear." Grell's voice, still calm, now had a sharper edge to it as he called out from atop the building. The shinigami slung his free arm around the flagpole and dangled lazily off to the side, grinning. "Are you quite sure that's something you want to do right now?"
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It only took a single, well-placed explosion to blow the flagpole out of the side of the building -- and it was chased directly afterward but a stream of red spheres, all aimed at destroying this man.
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"You disappoint me, darling." He took a step toward the masked figure in front of him, chainsaw blade of his scythe brandished. "Such a pity. I really do enjoy your work."
Grell leveled a direct stare as he took two more unhurried steps toward Nagi, flashing him a wide, toothy grin. "Now - let's settle this honorably, shall we?" He revved the chainsaw to life and began to charge down the alleyway.
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Meeting the chainsaw-charge straight on, he let loose a series of explosives -- but not in a random disarray, like before. Place strategically. Calculatedly. One aimed just before the man's feet, one aimed at the body of the chainsaw, one aimed at the tip of the shaking blade. Three blows meant to knock him completely off balance.
And no hesitation, as Nagi lunged forward as well, blood-stained hand aimed for the soft underbelly to tear into.
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"You're quite a work of art yourself, my dear." Grell smiled deviously and once again swung the chainsaw's blade toward his attacker.
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And before the clumsy weapon could be swung once more, he lunged in close, hand shooting forth to pierce through skin and into the abdominal cavity.
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"Something tells me I'm going to enjoy seeing your Cinematic Record, darling." Grell wiped at a smear of blood trickling from his mouth with the back of his gloved hand and jabbed toward the masked figure with the chainsaw-scythe as best he could.
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It was the feeling of movement, rather than the rush of words, that made him back off blindly, trying to clear his vision of the technicolor spots -- but it wasn't fast enough. The splatter of blood, and a jagged spike of pain tearing up his arm, as the end of the chainsaw blade tore through the end of his severed left arm. Once more rupturing mutilated flesh.
And the brilliant flashes that decorated his vision instantly shattered, deteriorating, instead, into a series of images that he knew all too well. (His wife, first at their marriage -- then dead on the ground. A familiar figure in a black kimono, walking away, smile on lips. His unborn child, displayed in a glass tube, never to awake. Himself, in the Undertakers' room -- covered in blood, like here, like now.) It was an enraged snarl, as he shot an arm forth, attacking almost blindly -- but nonetheless hitting the mark. Pushing past just beside the chainsaw blade and digging fingers deep into the other's midriff. Deep enough to feel folds of organs.
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And now he had to go and hunt that shinigami down. Lovely. His steps hurried as he ran in the direction to where he was sure that that fool was. And the fool did not disappoint William. It looked like he was about to be killed if he did not do anything to stop it. His hand came to adjust his glasses as he thought that perhaps he should just let it happen. The scythe instead came out to swing down and to collide with the attacker's shoulder -- meant purely to knock him off balance rather than to actually cause any real damage.
Either way, he jumped down from the rooftop -- only to grab onto a handful of Grell's hair -- before returning to his perch. William did not care if this ended up hurting his subordinate or not. It was the man's own fault that he had to result in doing such annoying things like getting involved in something that neither of them should have gotten involved in the first place. Throwing Grell off to the side of the roof, he addressed the man as he bowed low. "I apologize for the inconvenience he has caused. I doubt this means much to you, but I am sorry." He straightened a few seconds later, believing that it would be wise to leave before any more violence came his way.
"Continue as you wish to, we shall not interfere anymore." Adjusting his glasses once more, he walked over to grab Grell's hair and drag him to the transports -- considering the matter over.
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