Some things, Nida thought, were the same no matter where you were. Less than an hour ago, he'd managed to get into a screaming match with his brother, who wasn't even his real brother, but apparently Aden was Aden no matter what universe he was in. Their parents had stepped in to stop them and Nida had stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to break something and not even caring if he did. He walked, trying to get as far from home as possible to let his anger cool off before he tried to do anything else pertaining to his family.
And that, you see, was the reason he was out there in the forest when the phone started acting up. He'd been walking for a while by then, with his head down and his shoulders up and his hands shoved as deep into the pockets of his coat as he could get them. He ignored the phone at first, but eventually the nature of its noises got through the mental wall of his anger and he realized that maybe this was something he should be paying some attention to.
He stopped among the trees to pull the phone out of his pocket, staring down at the screen while he listened to its scattered transmissions. (Radio silence, he thought vaguely. It was still strange to be someplace with no radio silence, even if it had been recently fixed back home.)
All those snippets suddenly meant something when he heard someone(thing?) crashing through the trees. His head snapped up; he caught a brief flash of orange, already gone, and in the direction of the crash was a girl in white. ...A masked girl in white.
"You okay?" he called out, despite his mood and despite his confusion. It was only polite.
Fortunately Dove had slowed herself on a couple of branches on the way down and landed in a bush, though that didn't help the fact that landing itself still hurt and did not much improve her mood.
"'M fine," she muttered, more out of habit than anything-- only to have her head whip up as she suddenly realized she wasn't alone. Light flicked into her palm abruptly as she whirled on the voice -- something like a fiery coin pinched between forefinger and thumb.
. . . But meanwhile, the convict was getting away, wasn't he?
If it was a civilian, no good in making this worse than it already was by having been seen. With a last hesitant darted glance between Nida and the bit of fleeing orange, she took after the orange, the coin winking out. The shard pulsed at her collarbone, tugging and eager.
She soon wouldn't be very far behind Anderson . . .
Perhaps Dove would not have to chase him far anyway. Anderson had stopped so suddenly in his tracks as to send him tumbling to the ground, a cacophany of swearing and the angry crying of a crow. It had flow at his face, almost abormally large, wings beating furiously.
Anderson tried to shield his face with his arms. The bird seemed to approve of this, because right after the arms came up, it switched targets, it's beak biting at the shiny fragment of blue.
This was totally weird. He didn't know the status on masked characters with strange powers in this world, but he assumed they were few and far between. She was probably an outsider like he was.
She took off running and he glanced down at his phone. ...Had she gotten the same broken transmissions, then? And she was in a hell of a hurry, so...
That flash of orange, huh? He sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket, and took off running after that same flash. Whatever was going on, he was a SeeD, even if that didn't count for much here. That meant he had a duty to help where he could. (And if the guy fought while they were trying to take him down, maybe Nida'd have a chance to put his anger to use.)
A very large crow, yes, but that was partially toned down by the fact that it was attacking a very large man. Anderson had never been a small person, but he had never been, as he was now, some seven feet tall. And still growing from the look of it, his clothes strained, tore.
This was not helped by the sudden onslaught of burning coins and cards going everywhere.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" he was roaring. "WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?"
The crow shrieked as well, taking blows to one of its wings that forced it back, but unlike its original cry there was almost an undertone to it, something deeper and more like a man's cry.
Or perhaps that was merely an effect created by the shouting of the convict.
In any case, Kid would have to be careful. The bird was growing larger still, its shape shifting into something more humanoid. There was a shadowy, decidedly clawed hand coming for his bonny blue eyes.
Nida assessed the situation at a glance. Huge guy, huge bird, two people trying to take down the bird, bird trying to take down the guy. He assumed the guy was the convict in the transmissions, and that meant taking him down was a priority. And since the bird (why was the bird important?) was being handled, Nida went for the prisoner.
He was an unarmed combat specialist, but he was still facing somebody with about a foot and a half on him. Normally he could jump a person from behind and drag them down, but he was not guaranteed that here. He fought for it, though, trying to pull the convict to the ground.
This was not the sort of situation he had been hoping to find when investigating the jailbreak. It made him rather grateful he had located a weapon before following Kuroba (even if said weapon was simply a crowbar, appropriated from a corner of the stairway).
Not that the weapon would help any. He stood, hidden behind a tree, hoping that the light wasn't reflecting too much off of the chains on his dark clothing.
Dove might have reflected Anderson's sentiments about the whole ordeal. She'd had it perfect . . . he was in perfect range.
And suddenly there was Kid.
Again, Kid.
And just as she'd taken that in, there came another person into the fray -- the boy from before, flinging himself onto the convict. Damn it. Kid, the bird, the convict . . . she didn't mind hitting any of these, but the boy, just a civilian, was another matter.
"Stupid . . . !" She darted out of her hiding place, sliding down a small embankment, considering her options. The coins were too unpredictable, not so able to be directed.
But the birds, maybe . . .
"Doves from a hat!" A swarm of iridescent birds rose into the air, diving towards Kid and oversized crow alike.
The crow screamed at the barrage of Dove's attack, a sound that was decidedly birdlike even as its shape was more human. It stood as tall as a man at any rate, though wings were still easy to see in the dark. Perhaps if it had had the capacity to appreciate symbolism, it would have found some sort of amusement in this, a White Dove attacking a black crow.
But no. It was a bird. After a shiny.
And its wing hurt.
But while the bird was screaming, Anderson was trying to deal with a sudden irritant that had gotten him from behind. Between having training and surprising him, Nida almost succeeded in bearing him down. Huge hands scrambled to grab onto an arm. The pest must be flung off.
Meanwhile if anyone was looking at Anderson's arm, the area around the shard was darkening and taking on a texture that was certainly not flesh. It had not progressed so very far yet, but the arm was turning to stone.
"Oh, goddammit," Nida muttered. He almost had it! And now - well, now things were not going so well. The guy had his arm, so it wasn't like he could just pull back and try again, and now he had to worry about the bigger man getting the advantage on him, which would be...bad, to say the least.
He went with what he figured was the best idea in the situation. It was still stupid, but it was better than trying to get away and getting his arm broken in the process. He tried to climb up on the convict's back.
And, oh man, he noticed that slow spread of weirdness across the man's arm, and he nearly fell back down right there. Petrification? But he was still moving! That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all.
And in the shadows, Hakuba waited, adjusting his grip on the crowbar. It would be near-suicide to attempt anything now, with the explosions and giant bird-like creature, and a convict who was obviously not the height he should be. A convict with an arm possibly turning to stone.
Too close . . . Everyone was too close now. At least her birds had managed to get the crow, if not the thief.
With any luck, the crow would focus on the thief for the moment, leaving her to worry about the civilian and the convict . . . and the shard. Looking for an opening, Aoko crept closer, skirting the edge of the battle, fully prepared to shoot something else off at the thief if need be.
She was too far away to see the arm turning to stone.
And that, you see, was the reason he was out there in the forest when the phone started acting up. He'd been walking for a while by then, with his head down and his shoulders up and his hands shoved as deep into the pockets of his coat as he could get them. He ignored the phone at first, but eventually the nature of its noises got through the mental wall of his anger and he realized that maybe this was something he should be paying some attention to.
He stopped among the trees to pull the phone out of his pocket, staring down at the screen while he listened to its scattered transmissions. (Radio silence, he thought vaguely. It was still strange to be someplace with no radio silence, even if it had been recently fixed back home.)
All those snippets suddenly meant something when he heard someone(thing?) crashing through the trees. His head snapped up; he caught a brief flash of orange, already gone, and in the direction of the crash was a girl in white. ...A masked girl in white.
"You okay?" he called out, despite his mood and despite his confusion. It was only polite.
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"'M fine," she muttered, more out of habit than anything-- only to have her head whip up as she suddenly realized she wasn't alone. Light flicked into her palm abruptly as she whirled on the voice -- something like a fiery coin pinched between forefinger and thumb.
. . . But meanwhile, the convict was getting away, wasn't he?
If it was a civilian, no good in making this worse than it already was by having been seen. With a last hesitant darted glance between Nida and the bit of fleeing orange, she took after the orange, the coin winking out. The shard pulsed at her collarbone, tugging and eager.
She soon wouldn't be very far behind Anderson . . .
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Anderson tried to shield his face with his arms. The bird seemed to approve of this, because right after the arms came up, it switched targets, it's beak biting at the shiny fragment of blue.
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This was totally weird. He didn't know the status on masked characters with strange powers in this world, but he assumed they were few and far between. She was probably an outsider like he was.
She took off running and he glanced down at his phone. ...Had she gotten the same broken transmissions, then? And she was in a hell of a hurry, so...
That flash of orange, huh? He sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket, and took off running after that same flash. Whatever was going on, he was a SeeD, even if that didn't count for much here. That meant he had a duty to help where he could. (And if the guy fought while they were trying to take him down, maybe Nida'd have a chance to put his anger to use.)
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Was that a crow?
. . . A very large crow.
And that glimmer there . . . blue?
"Sleight of Hand!" The coins flicked into her fingers, flashing towards the dark bird. That small gleam of blue . . . she wanted that as well.
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(The comment has been removed)
This was not helped by the sudden onslaught of burning coins and cards going everywhere.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" he was roaring. "WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?"
The crow shrieked as well, taking blows to one of its wings that forced it back, but unlike its original cry there was almost an undertone to it, something deeper and more like a man's cry.
Or perhaps that was merely an effect created by the shouting of the convict.
In any case, Kid would have to be careful. The bird was growing larger still, its shape shifting into something more humanoid. There was a shadowy, decidedly clawed hand coming for his bonny blue eyes.
Reply
He was an unarmed combat specialist, but he was still facing somebody with about a foot and a half on him. Normally he could jump a person from behind and drag them down, but he was not guaranteed that here. He fought for it, though, trying to pull the convict to the ground.
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Not that the weapon would help any. He stood, hidden behind a tree, hoping that the light wasn't reflecting too much off of the chains on his dark clothing.
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And suddenly there was Kid.
Again, Kid.
And just as she'd taken that in, there came another person into the fray -- the boy from before, flinging himself onto the convict. Damn it. Kid, the bird, the convict . . . she didn't mind hitting any of these, but the boy, just a civilian, was another matter.
"Stupid . . . !" She darted out of her hiding place, sliding down a small embankment, considering her options. The coins were too unpredictable, not so able to be directed.
But the birds, maybe . . .
"Doves from a hat!" A swarm of iridescent birds rose into the air, diving towards Kid and oversized crow alike.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
But no. It was a bird. After a shiny.
And its wing hurt.
But while the bird was screaming, Anderson was trying to deal with a sudden irritant that had gotten him from behind. Between having training and surprising him, Nida almost succeeded in bearing him down. Huge hands scrambled to grab onto an arm. The pest must be flung off.
Meanwhile if anyone was looking at Anderson's arm, the area around the shard was darkening and taking on a texture that was certainly not flesh. It had not progressed so very far yet, but the arm was turning to stone.
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He went with what he figured was the best idea in the situation. It was still stupid, but it was better than trying to get away and getting his arm broken in the process. He tried to climb up on the convict's back.
And, oh man, he noticed that slow spread of weirdness across the man's arm, and he nearly fell back down right there. Petrification? But he was still moving! That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all.
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With any luck, the crow would focus on the thief for the moment, leaving her to worry about the civilian and the convict . . . and the shard. Looking for an opening, Aoko crept closer, skirting the edge of the battle, fully prepared to shoot something else off at the thief if need be.
She was too far away to see the arm turning to stone.
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