[System]
Age: 17

Gender: Male

Race: Faunus (White-Tiger based)

Weapon: Kladenets & Perun

A Charge-Blade and Axe-Shield combination weapon. The two weapons have the unique ability of fusing into a single, larger weapon. Taking the form of a giant axe for a more powerful, albeit slower, combat style. The sword becomes the shaft of the axe with the shield becoming the axe's head. Internally, his weapons house a hidden firing mechanism that allow him to load Dust Ammunition. With loaded ammunition he can unleash destructive, close-ranged, explosive blasts.

Speciality: Though he doesn't necessarily fall into a single, defined role he primarily engages close-ranged combat, but can act as a defensive off-hand tank with his shield and utilizing his Semblance, provide a supportive role. With his shield, he can skillfully defend and attack at the same time with his sword at extremely close ranges. Sheathing his sword into his shield, he can then switch to a defensive position to guard himself or his teammates. As part of his versatile and adaptive nature, his shield has a bladed edge and short punch-spike at its base that allows his shield to double as a weapon. Hidden within his shield is a speed-loader that can quickly reload his sword with a full magazine of Dust Ammunition in the event of an emergency.

Combining his sword and shield together to from his Great Axe, he trades speed and defense for a purely offensive style of combat. With his giant Axe he can use his impressive strength to cleave, crush, and smash through large groups of enemies at once. Though his attacks with his Axe are much slower and in wide arcs, the sheer brute power of the weight of the axe and its slightly increased melee range makes it a fearsome weapon in Kuhaku's hands.

In either its sword or axe form, Kuhaku can load special Dust Ammunition to either 'Burn' or 'Fire'. 'Burning' a round, he can propel himself short distances for a powerful and quick strike. 'Firing' a round unleashes an explosive blast in a small area in front of himself. His explosive dust attacks all require ammunition and as such, he wears a belt with Dust Shotshells on them.

Semblance: The King's Voice - With the sound of his roar, he can temporarily remove mental limiters on he and his teammates' minds. Allowing them to fight with enhanced senses and bolstered physical capability for a few minutes at a time. For his enemies, the sound of his roar has the opposite effect. Muddling their senses to reduce their effectiveness and confusing them.

However, his Semblance comes to him at a cost. The more often he utilizes his Semblance, side effects start to appear though only in himself. The side effects can range anywhere from headaches, impaired senses, seizures, temporary memory loss or permanent memory loss. Not only coming with side effects, there are certain conditions to his Semblance in order for it to be completely effective, if at all. Whenever he prepares to utilize his Semblance, his golden eyes turn a burning, glowing blue. With black 'stripes' appearing on his 'fur', face, and arms. His stripes and eyes can also act as a timer, fading as the effects of his Semblance wears off.

Personality: Having been orphaned at a very young age, Kuhaku never had a home to call his own. As such, he primarily lived in orphanages, moving to a new one every so often. Growing up having never known his own family, he was constantly abused and subjected to prejudice due to his race. Though due to his strong will and good heart, he never held the abuse he went through against Humankind and overcame his rough upbringing. He endured humankind's irrational hatred and treatment of his own kin.

Desiring to prove to others that the Faunus were not the 'beasts' and 'animals' most humans labeled his kind as, he enrolled in Signal as soon as he was able to. He believes that his enrollment to become a future Hunter as a way of demonstrating that Faunus and Humans can coexist and work together peacefully. He one day wishes to become a legendary Hunter to end the Grimm threat and prevent any future generations from ever having to go through what he did, having lost his family. As part of his good-hearted nature, you'll always see him in a generally bright and happy mood. Kind and polite to all who meet him, he treats most everyone with the same level of warmth and respect akin to that of a close, long-time friend. Outgoing, loud, energetic and enthusiastic are just a few characteristics to describe him. As a result of his tough childhood he has a deep understanding of other people's hardships and pain, granting him a strong sense of empathy. Quick to trust others and make friends, Kuhaku doesn't have a hateful bone in his body, despite what other ignorant humans might think.

Color: Sky-Blue

Emblem:

Appearance:

[All rights reserved to Nitroplus for the character image. Credit goes to Lugubrious for the Emblem!]

[User]
Delta Snow - Airship Docks

Delta's blank gaze scanned over those present. He knew a few, or could vaguely recall a vowel of their names from conversations he unconsciously overheard. He could already feel an agitated aura emanating from one certain individual with cerulean locks. If memory served him right, which it usually did, her name was Sapphire. It didn't take an einstein to piece two and two together concerning the correlation between her hair color and her name, but he wasn't one to criticize names, considering his own. At least, the daggers only but a breath away from another student's neck were giving off an aggressive vibe.

Then Gren managed to step in just in the nick of time before they had a death on their hands, Grane ended up arriving at the wrong time, shortly followed by a person he recognized from lunch, and all the while this was happening, Delta and Cobalt were merely watching. The two quickly exchanged glances, waiting in expectation for how the scene would pan out. "Hey, Delta, got any leftover popcorn?" The familiar asked from the pouch with Delta's scroll grasped between its stubby ligaments, recording the whole entire duboccal with a mischievous grin. It was then did Eve's mouth completely drop at the sight of the conflict growing, and just as quickly becoming extinguished. In a series of deft motions, Ebon was suddenly left suspended in the air, as if he was momentarily given the ability to defy the laws of gravity. And just like that, a student he hadn't even known the name of plummeted out of sight.

It took Delta a few moments to process the events that transpired before his very eyes. His vision of a scholastic institution, albeit in this case a combat oriented one, was a place where peers didn't exactly fling each other off the side of a cliff. He glanced down at Eve, who returned the same gaze of awe, and silently gulped in minute fear. "I guess dad was right… women are scary." The silver-haired boy then found himself shifting in minute increments behind Grane. Kinda ironic how he was seeking refuge behind a closet drunk. But then his posture eased at the mechanical shield gravitating near the cliff's edge, chances are, the student didn't fully go for a dive. But what was he doing behind there?

"Eve. Getting any-" The familiar jumped onto his shoulder without any preceding cue. Its irises were suddenly rimmed with a golden hue, fluently circulating within the eyes. "Yeah. Heat readings. You may not be able to hear him from this distance, but looks like they're not done with their little… dispute." Delta nodded in agreement, locking onto the two students involved. Did they not know where they were? A firefight then began to ensue, leaving a bit of the cliff to give way due to the oncoming fire. After a bit of gunplay, Sapphire took a quick retreat beside Gren. The boy was in the midst of opening his lips when Eve lept into action. The familiar dropped to the ground and paced its way over, taking a stand between the girl and shield.

"Oi, oi! Don't you know where you both are right now?! Do you seriously want to do something that'll detriment both the docks and Gren's party? Calm down!" The squeaky voice didn't really seem all that intimidating, so it wasn't a surefire chance that they would listen. But Eve could at least try to stop the whole situation before it devolved beyond repair. Delta sighed and walked over, slightly shaking his head at Sapphire. "Save this for another time." The boy kept one strap of his hat tightly wrapped around his finger, he glanced at the earth's condition under the shield. The cliff probably wasn't going to hold for much longer, so hopefully the student behind could get a chance to relocate.

[Assistant]
Sepia Russet - Airdocks

"This is no way to behave." Sepia thought, uncharacteristically sullen. "From my own teammate too. The girl looks like one who has a near permanent attitude problem, but I would have thought Ebon would try to diffuse the situation. I guess I just don't really know anyone here." She'd overheard the conversation that had started this mess, though. Something about trusting people, the difference between friends and allies, and family names. The last one stuck out to her. "I wonder what inherited pressure is like. I guess I could have found out myself, but that would mean..." She reached up and touched her faunus ears, then swished her tail out in front of herself thoughtfully. "Bad for business, they say. I understand, but I won't take that risk in hiding them."

Her dog ears flicked as she thought about Shiro's message and she couldn't help but laugh. "He isn't even here." Clearing her throat to make her presence known, Sepia spoke quietly. "I have to agree. Whatever's going on here is between you and whoever your dispute is with. It's probably no one else's business, but it seems like you're trying to make it that way."

[User]
Napoli Fiordilatte - (Wait, Grimm Studies had a Purpose? Time to Help Shiro)

Swimming around in cold water to help out a Faunus you really only met five minutes ago.

Well, it appeared Napoli could check that off his bucket list.

That said, it was rather easy to lose sight of someone that decided the best plan of attack was to go underwater the whole time. Thus Napoli found himself swimming in merely the vague direction he had last seen Shiro resurface. That's when a few interesting events occurred. First off, some weird drones decided to fly around and engage their own little agenda.

People at this school have funnels? And here I thought Gratia was the one with all the hax.

Then something roared and a weapons locker sinned and fell from heaven. Then again, with how freaky this school had been, perhaps that was just a typical Monday. Nevertheless a large grin spread across the Sniper's face as he realized it was time for a practical application of his school studies. Adjusting his route towards the newly ascertained direction of his class fellow, Napoli propelled himself forward. Reaching the approximate location rather quickly.

With a quick dive underwater, Napoli was able to make out the blurred image of Shiro and what appeared to be a frog?

God damnit Kermit, you didn't have to start binge eating after the breakup.

Well whatever, the bigger area would just make a shot easier. Leaving his head slightly submerged in order to still see the Grimm, Napoli popped one hand out and fired a series of bullets up in the air before curving them in the direction of the Grimm. It was the same basic water displacement technique he'd employed earlier in the day. Although being in the water this time was new.

[Assistant]
Kuhaku Shiro - Lakebed

He had every intention to fight the Grimm head on alone. He was fully prepared to take a nasty first hit. He realized what a bad situation this was and knew he had no real plan on getting out of it unharmed. Just as he was about to launch himself at the frog-face, a hand grabbed his arm and broke him out of his tunnel-vision focus. Turning his head, his eyes met with the 'other sword-and-board' user. Shiro really was bad with names. The guy pointed with his other hand towards the surface and for a moment, Shiro didn't quite understand. Thinking he maybe meant for Shiro to give up and head back, he shook his head and pointed at the pile of loot. He wasn't about to abandon Sapphire's daggers when they were so close to being recovered. Shooting the guy an angry look, it wasn't until he noticed the displaced trail of what looked like bullets whizzing through the water towards the Amphibian Grimm that Shiro reconsidered taking the guy's advice and resurfacing. Gren did say that they were here to help. Maybe they had some sort of plan? At the very least, once Shiro surfaces he can use his Semblance to give them a better fighting edge.

"Agh! No, I should reserve that for emergencies instead of using it every chance I get!"
He didn't know what to do. He really needed to work on that 'planning' thing more.
Shiro exhaled another bunch of bubbles out of exasperation.
"Fine! I'll bite!"
Shiro turned back to face the black-haired guy and nodded once, jabbing a thumb upwards towards the surface.
Looking at the Grimm and to the pile of loot, he didn't feel good about abandoning it. But, he knew where it was. He could easily return to it.
Kicking off of the lakebed and exhaling continuously as he rose through the waters, Shiro made his way back topside.
Unsure of himself and how to proceed once he made his way back down to face that Grimm.


[System]
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Mundane
Tale: None

Appearance: Standing at 6 ft 1, quite tall compared to those around him, Robert sticks out like a sore thumb within the ground. His hair has a salt and pepper color, a mixture of over drinking and stress in the earlier year of life. As expected from someone who is used to manual labor, Robert possessed a copper-toned skin and a muscular build. He usually appeared in a worker uniform, characterized by the fishy smell of the port and dotted by large areas of sweat.

Skills:
* Dirty Fight: Being a lower-class citizen, there are no definitive weapons for one to fend of from others. As such, one needs to learn how to fight dirty. Ambush in the alleyway, kick in the groin, or just simply smashing an empty bottle against another skull. There is no limit on how dirty ones can fight, only how low will ones allow himself to stoop.
* Farming: Being a farmer himself, what kind of skills do you expect for him to have?
* Exceptional Endurance: Toiling his life every 14 hours per day on the field, all year round, Robert possessed the endurance that allows him to win villages fairs.
* Survivalist: When the blight comes and crops wither, people from lower class would have no choice but to eat wild berries and any animals that they can lay hands upon.

Personality:
Rowdy and uncultured, Robert is your typical lower class citizen. His words are coarse, and his speech is a very good indication of what currently happening in his mind. And although his appearance usually gave out the impression of "my word worth thousand golds", there is no stopping when he begins to talk. Combine that with the fact of himself being a heavy drinker and you got a living, breathing, and walking flea market.

But beneath his boastful nature, Robert has a heart of gold and a desire to befriend with anyone he meet. He would never hesitate to push himself down in order for others to claim the glory, simply because he deemed others to be more worthy than him. And friends are where his achievements come from. Maybe he is stupid for letting others use him. Maybe his mother did drop him when breastfeeding him. But if no one plays the fool, who will?

History:
Like any other kids that were brown in the lower social ladder, Robert was born in a crowded family consisted of nine members. And from the age of four, he had learned how to properly plant wheat, how to plow the field without damaging the blades, where to find the grass for the sheep,... Life was simple back then, and Robert like it. His family had even asked the neighbor about letting him marrying their daughter. What could he ask more in life? What he possibly need had been provided by the farm life. Thus, Robert never thinks of ever moving out of town. Slowly living and then turn to dust on this plot of land was his thought.

But, his wife didn't think the same. To her, the city held what she desired. Power, social connections, and fashions are all there, beckoning her to just come and settle in it. She craved it; Robert could see it in her eyes. The thirst of being known, of wearing the newest dress, and joining afternoon tea party at the neighbors' houses. And so he saves the meager amount of money he is able to earn, saving for her dream.

But then, the blight came and wiped all he knew away. There were so many corpses, his wife included. Fields withered and their odor attracted clouds of flies to enjoy the feast. Starvation struck the region, adding more scratches on the number lists. It was the first time Robert knew that the ground beneath him taste so good. But like every sane and devastated man would do, Robert joined the exodus, heading to nearby cities.

That was 10 years or so. Now, Robert is just the same man who left that town behind, at least he likes to think so. He is still the man who saves the meager amount of money he is able to earn, just not for the same goal. Currently, the goal had turned out to be something more realistic, something more obtainable, booze. And with booze, Robert can do so many things. He could drink it. He could smash it against some stupid rats who think they could steal some coins from him. And the sadness found a vent to go. And the more money acquires, the more booze he is going to buy.

[User]
Sooo… thirsty…

Robert winced as his brain recognized the drought that is currently taking place in his throat. It is quite peculiar that the more you drink, the drier your throat gets. And no matter how thoroughly the rain is soaking him, the burning sensation in his mind never shows any sign of reclining. Furthermore, the rain is begging him to drink, adding more fuel to the flame inside. And Robert knew just what to do. What? Don't give him that disappointed look for unable to stay sober during work. A small sip can't kill anybody.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Robert said with a gruff tone, apologizing the man he accidentally elbowed while searching for his whiskey vial. The man was short and stout. The gold rim monocle sits comfortably on the complexion of fear and anger, as this humongous mobster is trying to muck him in broad daylight. His knuckles turned white, showing determination to protect these documents, which was "solemnly" ordered by his boss to turn in tomorrow. And as he observed the opponent, thoughts dashed through his mind for a possible solution. Should he yell so that the watcher at the corner could notice this petty thief? The man doubted it, seeing how this thief is not so "petty." Maybe he could even tackle two policemen at once, judging from his size alone. And what is the thief holding in his pocket? Is he searching for a knife? Oh God, it is a knife, isn't it? I'm going to die aren't I?  Fear runs amok in his mind as sweat begins to blend with the rain falling from above.

"Hey, you alright? " Said the brute, placing a hand on his right shoulder.

"Uhhh, Excuse me… But can you repeat that?" The man staggered by the friendliness this brute posed, struggle to find the right expression for the current situation.  Was all mobster this nice?

" Yes, I asked if you are alright. Sorry for accidentally bumping you there." Robert said. Only after confirming no harm was dealt does Robert bid the rodent's heart stranger and head his way toward the Central Square. A smile ran across his face as he felt the weight of the vial of whiskey in hand.  Just a small sip,  he thinks before uncapping the glass bottle in hand.

---

~Robert~
Location: Central Square
Mission: Missing Cats

---

A complete mess. That is the perfect term to describe how Robert's appearance. What started out as a sip grew into two. Then from two, it got to four. And from four to half a bottle… While he is still able to work, his breath stenches with alcohol and his cheeks turn red from knocking a whole bottle in such a short time. His eyes become bloated red, as if he on the verge of killing someone he sees on the road. The finely combed hair returns to its natural state, just like all things in life, of chaos and disarray. And no matter how hard Robert tries, something like a feral growl was coming from his mouth. He knew he should not have a drink before work, especially drinking a whole vial of whiskey in such a short duration. His friends had warned him. The pub owner had also discussed with him out of concern and friendliness. And he didn't listen.

Forcing a soft growl in his throat, almost inseparable from the footsteps of others, Robert smiled bitterly as he reaches the Central Square. It wasn't hard to find a particular nervous male and a flamboyant person in this gloomy city. If he was still able to talk, Robert wouldn't mind rushing over there and welcoming them with a crushing handshake. But now? Why can't they be a little bit more gloomy so he could use the excuse that he didn't notice them?

After making some hesitation on how to greet them, Robert just decided to go with what he knew best. And if he can't speak for the next week or so, he knows who to blame. Himself. Just like her.

" Hello. Sorry to keep you guys waiting. The name is Robert. Robert Ackerson to be precise. And you are?" Robert smiles, trying to keep his voice as natural as possible despite how stressful it is on his vocal chord. A handshake offered to both, showing his friendliness and the hope to successfully cooperate on this first mission.

[Assistant]
~ℌ𝔞𝔯𝔢~

---

Harry wasn't fully used to this form. He'd rather sprint and hide, which didn't make him an obvious target for anyone aiming to harm him. Being a Hare, that was nearly any meat eater. His paw continued to fiddle a moment longer with his jacket before his ears caught a sound. Promptly he became still while his nose twitched causing his head to tilt to better identify the source. He kept forgetting his eyes, in his guise, were positioned forward rather than on his head sides.

So to Roxana it might've seemed like he was ignoring her, but he wasn't. Harry was sizing her up before he spoke. He described her outfit as flamboyant and showy, something you would find in a carnival rather than walking around in town in. Memories sought to recall any news about a new traveling circus in town. Nothing came to mind causing his nose to scrunch up and twitch on alert.

She skipped his way then made an elegant bow toward him. Her dice earrings bounced a bit as they dangled from her ears. When she stood back up, he noticed she was considered average in height with a painted white face and decorated with markings.

He nodded at her greeting, confirming what she stated. Politely Harry made a smaller, less flashy bow in respect to the woman. Before he could speak, a larger and older man approached the pair. Harry's head tilted toward the man's direction as he took another note over his fellow co-worker. The man was an obvious drunk from his matted up hair to his shabby clothes, the alcohol fermenting on his breath.

Harry had doubts about the man's ability to plausibly construct a sentence. He was surprised by the apologized for his lateness and raised a hand to shake causing Harry to raise an eyebrow. The hare didn't raise his hand to touch the man's hand. He wasn't sure how well this illusion would hold, especially since due to its cheapness, before he spoke.

"I'm a bit paranoid about touch, so I'll pass on the handshake. Sorry friend," Harry stated, not taking the hand.

He continued to address the other two, "I assume you're also a pup in the Wolf's Den Agency too? Like her? The name's Harry Harlan. So let's head off to Granny Mildred and see where her silly little fleabags went off to."

With those words, Harry began to lead the way toward the old woman's home.

[User]
Roxana Tolbert
Roxana flashed the small man a smile as he responded with a nod and bowed back. In spite of the slightly irritable demeanor she had observed him to to project earlier, he seemed polite enough towards her. She had expected that he would introduce himself as well, but another individual then arrived - a worn, disheveled older man who did not look quite well. He first addressed them with an apology, speaking in a way that was not reflected by his appearance. He too, was polite, and gave them his name before asking her and the other man for theirs.

She raised an eyebrow at the short man when he refused the handshake offered by the newcomer, admitting his supposed paranoia. Was a handshake not a common gesture performed by the 'normal' folk upon meeting for the first time? He did not elaborate on that, and she could not help but wonder what his story was. Perhaps she was not as out of place as she initially though she would be, though, it was still rather difficult for her to tell what kind of 'quirks' were considered socially acceptable and what were not, for she had not spent nearly enough time in such situations.

"Roxana Tolbert," she said, taking 'Robert's' hand before stepping closer to him out of curiosity.

The smell of alcohol hit her as she did so, and she tilted her head at the condition he appeared to be in. She stared at him for a moment, non verbally expressing some sort of care for his current state. Doing so felt rather strange for her. As a performer, she was rarely affected by the well-beings of the people in her audience. The 'normal' people were merely strangers who would toss her coin when she did her job, and that was to entertain. Now that she had to actually interact with them on a personal level, such things will begin to be of concern.

'Harry' then introduced himself to them and she nodded in agreement when he suggested that it was time to start work, grinning in amusement at the humorous way in which he had referred to the old woman's cats.

@Darth Shadow

[Assistant]
~Robert~
Location: Central Square -> Granny Mildred's House
Mission: Missing Cats

---

"It's alright," Robert nodded, putting his hand back to his pocket before shifting his attention toward the lady, who is staring at him intently. And although it is not his first time being this close with the opposite sex this, somehow, Robert just realizes how red his face currently is. He could feel the droplets that is slowly making its way toward his chin and neck. The index of the right hand shake vehemently in short burst with the rhythm of drunken heart. But moreover, he could feel the blushes slowly spreading from both of his cheeks toward the rear ends of the ears before making its way toward his scalp.

Fixing his attire so that he could enjoy the warmth that the trench coat providing against this strange storm, Robert flashes a smile toward the girl, who is looking at him quite intently.

"It's nice to meet you, Rebecca. Now, although I would love to have a chat with you, I would rather do it somewhere that is more cozy and warmer than here, don't you think?" Robert said, motioning her to follow Harry, who has made quite a distant and about to be lost in the crowd that is hurrying to make their ways home.


[System]
Age: 29

Gender: M

Stature: Has a fair amount of muscle on him but not overly so. Can appear intimidating if he chooses but he's too collected to give off an aggressive impression when it's unnecessary. Broad shoulders and wide hands, but a lean enough frame and a balanced height that he isn't stocky.

Hair color/style: Natural black. Kept neat and combed back in upscale areas while in lower-class areas its kept finger-combed. A slight wave to it but not considered wavy.

Eye color: Dark brown

Facial: Strong jaw and thick brows, straight nose. Shapely lips but wouldn't be considered full. Clean shaven typically when he has a series of gigs.

Skin tone: Naturally olive skin tone combined with a decent tan

Nationality: He's an American citizen despite what would be considered a 'black Irish', meaning his family line is predominantly Irish and Celtic heritage with darker features which earns the nickname.

Family, background, and personality: A few generations before him is what he would take credit for in not being dirt poor and living in the ghettos. His grandmother was an Irish immigrant, lucky enough to land a job under a wealthy family of lawyers as a housekeeper. Luckily enough for her, she caught the eye of one of the sons and married him when the inheritance was granted to him (no sooner unless he wanted to be cut off of his money for even thinking of settling down with an Irish woman). Producing a son, Declan's father, the family had decided to keep their Celtic blood strong in retaliation to a very anti-Irish America. This was considered crazy and immoral to do so and heavily discouraged but the two came to this agreement after witnessing the poor conditions of the Irish. Declan's father specifically sought out an Irish woman to settle himself down with. Though the money was not nearly as flowing, finding a job wasn't necessarily a perilous feat since Declan always had family background to rely on. This angered some, while others turned a blind eye and only focused on their stable income. Declan, despite the many lawyers and businessmen of his family line, chose to pursue music in a classical symphony orchestra. Specifically, the violin and managed to land a good number of gigs playing music during silent films. Declan managed to get by with this despite his heritage, creating a 'heard, not seen' approach. Skilled in the violin, he never made a name for himself but rather prided himself on being able to support both his jobs and an artistic side. The Great Depression took a toll on many economic spheres, however since people turned to creativity, music, and art, Declan wasn't one to suffer. Declan has traveled a fair amount and through traveling has made decent connections with people. He is socially gifted and brushes off things easily with those who dislike him, at least on the surface it appears that way. He's made friends all over, from dangerous slums to the other men accompanying him in orchestra. He knows how to carry himself differently based on the people he's around, which can be a trait that most would be distrusting of. Declan knows how to throw a punch and how to hold a conversation in the same day – and do it all smiling. He is much more gossipy and drama-oriented than he gives off and he has traits of being a manipulative person with those who are easily swayed. This man enjoys a good story and adventure that most would avoid.

Other: Declan is an only child. He doesn't like quitters and refuses to be someone who 'drops out of the game', softens his accent when he's in the presence of classier people and thickens it when he's around other Irish Americans. He enjoys a double life of sorts. Loves his instruments to death.

[User]
It didn't take long for Declan to go down. Not with three men and the surprise of being rammed head first into his car. It left a dent, that's for sure, one that Declan likely wouldn't see. Perhaps so, if their attack hadn't been disturbed. To both his luck and misfortune Declan went out easily, even while he was croaking out each time a foot lodged itself forcefully beneath his ribs, to his side and even his back when he'd been flipped over finally. Had he been awake throughout it would have been downright shameful for a man who was no stranger to throwing a fist and popping a few noses if necessary. And in the back of his mind – the deepest, darkest regions of whatever lingering consciousness, he was right there wailing himself along with these men.

Declan had seen and started his fair share of fistfights. In the seedy alleyways of the ghettos, the run down speakeasies as a teenager. It was all the same, violent dance ever since he'd grown enough muscle to pack a punch. He wasn't angry, not like the bitter men who'd starved, strained, suffered growing up in tenements, all packed in like sardines. It wasn't out of hurt or fear or some sort of retribution, but out of sheer boredom and the thrill of a brawl that kept him on his feet. Usually, at least. Perhaps at heart he was nothing but an Irish thug, a no-good troublemaker with privilege as his fallback. Did he lack the blunt, burning passion that grew inside of someone who had all the more reason to pick fights and hunt men? Maybe. But Declan wasn't an aggressor and never needed to be. All it took was a cool laugh and a wrong look to get someone fired up, usually in a crummy sort of town, and if someone invited him to a match then all the better. He didn't rest well at the idea of settling into a life without adventure.

But Declan didn't have a single second to get a solid glimpse of his attackers. A cheap shot, if you ask him, but a fight wasn't what they were looking to get. They wanted money, they wanted his car and they wanted to rob him of every notable cent that he was made up of. Most of all, they wanted Declan smashed into the dirt before he could note their faces.

The men were spooked as soon as the first blast sounded. They hadn't even noticed Jack approach by horse, too busy scrambling around and kicking up gravel to both rob and subdue their target and barking orders at one another to hurry and take what they could. When the first shot had been fired time froze and what was left of the men had halted in their tracks. The third, busy at work counting through the bills of Declan's money clip was the only body that crumpled in on himself. He collapsed without a single sound, soaking the the thirsty dirt with blood. The other two looked up to Jack, bug-eyed and mid motion, tempted to flee altogether. But Jack already had his two pistols locked on them as if to dare them to move. To so much as take a single step in the opposite direction.

Declan seemed to come to by this point. He stretched his sore limbs out with a groan, picking his face up from the ground and worked through figuring exactly who was responsible for the sudden ambush. Narrowing it down to the men crouched over him and not the one sitting horsetop, pistols ready, he raised himself onto his elbows and spit what tasted like a combination of saliva and blood. Finally, now that he'd gotten his bearings together and the world wasn't a complete see-saw, he narrowed his eyes at the one holding the wooden case.

"It's none of your business doing this!" One of the two men had shouted to Jack, timidly looking back and forth between him and the body. "You murderer, you'll be put away for th –!" But he was cut short when a pair of feet came slamming against his knees. His howl seemed to set the last one in motion, dropping whatever was in his hands and spiraling whichever open direction to escape.

[Assistant]
The sudden attack by the man on the ground caused Jack's eyes to dart away from his target momentarily. He hadn't noticed that the man was awake yet. Upon the attack, the one man left standing had made a run for it, his boots kicking up dust as he ran. He was smart enough not to waste his time with starting up the car but stupid enough to believe Jack was going to let him get away unscathed. The rage had driven him mad - his hesitance to shoot or kill had nearly dissolved. His discretion barely functioned at this point. He wouldn't be traced for a crime committed against a couple of robbers out in the desert land.

Narrowing his eyes, Jack adjusted his pistol, aiming it at the running man's foot. He shot at it twice, watching the man tumble to the ground, a flurry of dust flouting up as he fell. It was at this point that he turned his attention to the two men on the ground. The one man had lacerations and bruises scattered all over his face and appeared in bad shape. The thought occurred to Jack that, if he had not intervened, this man would have met the same fate as his family.

With swiftness, he dismounted the horse, pacing over to the robber on the ground. Without any hesitation or warning, Jack laid into the man's face with his fist, hitting him until he passed out. Panting heavily, he straightened up again and pushed his hair away from his face with a blood stained hand. It scared him that he could do such acts without the thinnest shred of guilt. Jack had never felt such a burning rage before. The desire to kill or harm another man had rarely occurred to him throughout his life. He was known as the peaceful child. The only that consistently obeyed and made sacrifices to keep the peace. Now, peace was the last thing on his mind.

"You hurt bad?" Jack finally addressed the man that had been ambushed, extending his hand to him to help him to his feet. The third robber was about fifteen feet away, attempting to get back to his feet. Jack, however, was not worried about him. He had something in mind for him and he wouldn't be going far in his condition.

[User]
Declan watched as the man ran with all of his might only for his feet to fail him with those two shots. He didn't flinch, be it from his head pounding or his senses dulled from the noise he wasn't quite sure. One thing was certain though, that this new man had it out for these men – for whatever reason, the young man poured every ounce of passion straight to the finger that pulled the trigger of the pistol and saving the rest for the firm beating the next and final man took to the face. He wasn't more than a few feet away before being taken care of as well, only this time with a pair of fists. Declan was on his back, propped up by his elbows and his neck craned curiously to watch. Two lines of blood, both from his nose and the gash of his lip made a steady stream to his chin. One eye was already swollen and limited his vision. But he'd be damned if he missed this kind of action, especially from a farm boy.

And just like that, after each smash of Jack's rampant fists against the final man's face, he was out like a light. Declan became an observer, almost as if he'd fizzled off into nothing and was a ghost by then. Jack seemed to thoroughly tenderize the last criminal, and with piquing curiosity he watched the kid deliver each blow. It was impressive to say the least, but for a boy Jack's age it was mind blowing how mechanically he moved from one to the other, as if checking them off of a list. He was on fire, the kind that burned someone from the inside out. A dangerous, growing thing. But Declan didn't feel the heat, even as he sounded off his pistol; even when the face below his fists crunched. He laid there as an idle observer, someone miles and miles away until finally Jack stood up and extended a red hand.

Luckily Declan's limbs managed to be unbroken. He checked his teeth with a run of his tongue over them. Bloody, but all there, followed by a nudge at his nose and finding that it too had survived the attack. Bumped and bruised maybe, but nothing broken but his skin and perhaps an ounce of pride. With that luck, he straightened his wool jacket, finger-brushed his hair as best as he could and turned to the young man who'd quite possibly saved his life.

"I'll be hurtin' for weeks. But 'm not dead," the Irish panted, stood crookedly, then turned his eyes over to the struggling man some ways away. He was somewhere between a pathetic crawl and stumble, with a good trail of blood leaking behind him. "Where'd a boy like you learn to shoot like that?"


[System]
Age: 17

Gender: Male

Race: Faunus (White-Tiger based)

Weapon: Kladenets & Perun

A Charge-Blade and Axe-Shield combination weapon. The two weapons have the unique ability of fusing into a single, larger weapon. Taking the form of a giant axe for a more powerful, albeit slower, combat style. The sword becomes the shaft of the axe with the shield becoming the axe's head. Internally, his weapons house a hidden firing mechanism that allow him to load Dust Ammunition. With loaded ammunition he can unleash destructive, close-ranged, explosive blasts.

Speciality: Though he doesn't necessarily fall into a single, defined role he primarily engages close-ranged combat, but can act as a defensive off-hand tank with his shield and utilizing his Semblance, provide a supportive role. With his shield, he can skillfully defend and attack at the same time with his sword at extremely close ranges. Sheathing his sword into his shield, he can then switch to a defensive position to guard himself or his teammates. As part of his versatile and adaptive nature, his shield has a bladed edge and short punch-spike at its base that allows his shield to double as a weapon. Hidden within his shield is a speed-loader that can quickly reload his sword with a full magazine of Dust Ammunition in the event of an emergency.

Combining his sword and shield together to from his Great Axe, he trades speed and defense for a purely offensive style of combat. With his giant Axe he can use his impressive strength to cleave, crush, and smash through large groups of enemies at once. Though his attacks with his Axe are much slower and in wide arcs, the sheer brute power of the weight of the axe and its slightly increased melee range makes it a fearsome weapon in Kuhaku's hands.

In either its sword or axe form, Kuhaku can load special Dust Ammunition to either 'Burn' or 'Fire'. 'Burning' a round, he can propel himself short distances for a powerful and quick strike. 'Firing' a round unleashes an explosive blast in a small area in front of himself. His explosive dust attacks all require ammunition and as such, he wears a belt with Dust Shotshells on them.

Semblance: The King's Voice - With the sound of his roar, he can temporarily remove mental limiters on he and his teammates' minds. Allowing them to fight with enhanced senses and bolstered physical capability for a few minutes at a time. For his enemies, the sound of his roar has the opposite effect. Muddling their senses to reduce their effectiveness and confusing them.

However, his Semblance comes to him at a cost. The more often he utilizes his Semblance, side effects start to appear though only in himself. The side effects can range anywhere from headaches, impaired senses, seizures, temporary memory loss or permanent memory loss. Not only coming with side effects, there are certain conditions to his Semblance in order for it to be completely effective, if at all. Whenever he prepares to utilize his Semblance, his golden eyes turn a burning, glowing blue. With black 'stripes' appearing on his 'fur', face, and arms. His stripes and eyes can also act as a timer, fading as the effects of his Semblance wears off.

Personality: Having been orphaned at a very young age, Kuhaku never had a home to call his own. As such, he primarily lived in orphanages, moving to a new one every so often. Growing up having never known his own family, he was constantly abused and subjected to prejudice due to his race. Though due to his strong will and good heart, he never held the abuse he went through against Humankind and overcame his rough upbringing. He endured humankind's irrational hatred and treatment of his own kin.

Desiring to prove to others that the Faunus were not the 'beasts' and 'animals' most humans labeled his kind as, he enrolled in Signal as soon as he was able to. He believes that his enrollment to become a future Hunter as a way of demonstrating that Faunus and Humans can coexist and work together peacefully. He one day wishes to become a legendary Hunter to end the Grimm threat and prevent any future generations from ever having to go through what he did, having lost his family. As part of his good-hearted nature, you'll always see him in a generally bright and happy mood. Kind and polite to all who meet him, he treats most everyone with the same level of warmth and respect akin to that of a close, long-time friend. Outgoing, loud, energetic and enthusiastic are just a few characteristics to describe him. As a result of his tough childhood he has a deep understanding of other people's hardships and pain, granting him a strong sense of empathy. Quick to trust others and make friends, Kuhaku doesn't have a hateful bone in his body, despite what other ignorant humans might think.

Color: Sky-Blue

Emblem:

Appearance:

[All rights reserved to Nitroplus for the character image. Credit goes to Lugubrious for the Emblem!]

[User]
Kuhaku Shiro - Airship Docks

Shiro's ears perked when a student approached him and introduced himself. Looking up, he stared at the boy for a moment before frowning and tilting his head. His eyes brightened as he recognized the guy. "Robert? Robert Fallson? Oh, yeah! You're in Practice Class with me, aren't you? Yeah, I'm on Team Swansong with Abel." When Robert then reached for Scoot, Scoot crawled up to him and sniffed at the boy's hand. Shiro smiled and nodded, "Yeah, that's Scoot. You've heard about him already?" Looking at the ferret, Shiro was shocked as the creature then nipped and bit at Robert's hand. Telepathically exclaiming, "Bad!"

"Scoot! What are you-!"
Shiro quickly reached down and scooped Scoot up.
"You don't do that! He's a friend of ours, okay?"
Scoot, cradled in Shiro's arms, turned to sniff at the air towards Robert's direction and made an odd growl. "Bad!"
Shiro was surprised to learn that Scoot had learned a new word, but what was exactly 'bad' about Robert? To be honest, Shiro didn't really know the guy very much so he couldn't draw his own conclusions on the man's personality type. But, even still. For Scoot to just bite Robert's finger out of nowhere when he never demonstrated an ounce of malice towards any other student.

Looking up at Robert, Shiro's expression broke down into one of sincere apology. "I'm real sorry about that, he didn't hurt you or draw blood did he? He's never done that before, I don't know why he wouldn't like you." Shiro nervously chuckled as he leaned forward slightly to see how Robert's digits were. Straightening up, Shiro glared at Scoot and pointed a finger at the rodent's face. "Scoot, we don't do that! Bad!" The ferret, not quite understanding what was going on, sniffed and licked at Shiro's bandaged finger.

[Assistant]
Robert Fallson - Beacon Docks

Robert was probably more shocked than anybody else that Scoot decided to bite him. He let out an audible "Oww!" as his hand quickly recoiled away from the ferret. "Why would something so cute and adorable bite me?" he asked rhetorically. "And what did I do that made it dislike me so much? I don't smell that bad do I?" he continued, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Robert realized he was clutching his bitten index finger in his left hand and decided to give it a quick peek to see if it was in fact bleeding or swollen. As to be expected with his normal streak of luck, a slight trickle of red was running down the finger.

When the concerned Shiro tried to look at the extent of the damage done by his team's pet though, Robert quickly hid his hand behind his back so he couldn't get a good look. "No worries, it's fine. Just smarts is all. No blood or anything," he lied. The red haired boy hated doing that, especially to someone he was trying to make friends with, but if Shiro found out that Scoot's bite broke the skin he'd probably feel worse about the whole thing. It wasn't Shiro's fault that Scoot saw Robert as a threat. Besides, I've had worse. Ever been bitten by a venomous spider? Man does that hurt. And going through the whole procedure of getting anti-venom is a pretty big hassle, too. Especially when you're broke. But enough about me, what are you doing? Going down to Vale, too?

[User]
Cobalt decided to walk to the Beacon Docks. He had heard that it had quite a nice view and he was pretty excited to see if he could see Signal from it. He walked past two people talking and sat down on a bench facing the cliff.

He heard something about venomous spiders and began laughing quite loudly. "I hear you there buddy. It's worse when you're in the middle of a forest and miles away from the nearest hospital. I had to suck out the poison myself, spit it out, and run to the hospital as fast as I could. Don't mess with Broodlings, that's what I learned that day. Not even if you're positive that there's no Ariadnes around." Cobalt said as he reminisced that day. In actuality he never got bit by a Broodling, it was just a regular spider. It really hurt still, but not fatal like a Broodling bite. Still, he probably sounded like a badass from that story. He got up and walked over to them. "I'm Cobalt. I just transferred here from Signal. What are your names?" He asked as he cracked his stiff neck.

[Assistant]
Cian
"Well its good you found a place to get your bike from. Though yeah I just found out about the hair clips now and something like that would be greatly beneficial." Cian said it was a really interesting piece now that she actually thought about it something like that you dont hear much about and when you do its like a fantasy setting. Still it was to beneficial to actually pass up "In terms of battle gear I ordered somethings since I have little to none extra clothing left that isn't torn to shreds. I guess you get to see later when I pick it up tomorrow since that is when it will be done she said off hand. Now you going to look around or follow me and Jack here since he is dead set on following me to get my hair cut." She continued as she looked at the two boys that was in the store with her.

[User]
Jack Orpheus | Vale

"But that is a really nice bike, really", he commented. He never really found the need for transport, seeing as his semblance would cover his mobility problems in a pinch, but that was still a very good looking bike. It was also just convenient for him that he show Cian to this shop, since he did have to pick up his coat. He was also glad she could get what she needed, seeing as they were on the same team, being ill-prepared intentionally or unintentionally was bad after all. Next though was her haircut.

"Hmmmmm, I wouldn't say dead set, more like... I wonder what your hair's going to look like afterward. It'll be fun", he had strange ideas of what was fun, but he was going to be following and seeing how it turns out. He was likely just bored.

[Assistant]
Clair Carnelian

 She stopped. There was an awkward sincerity in the young man's invitation, a kind that she might've appreciate if it wasn't so early in the morning.

 But, she thought. Of all things... why bowling?

 Looking at him, with a build like his, there was no doubt he was athlete. But a bowler? Not that that would have been anyone's first guess, but maybe, she thought, she should let herself wake up a little more before she jumped to so many conclusions about a complete stranger.

 I guess I was a little harsh. Maybe the Princess is already rubbing off on me.

 That being said, she certainly wasn't awake enough to have social interactions of any level of depth. Yet there was a crucial consideration that she had to make.

 If I don't go with him, the only other person I have to keep me company until classes begin is Sarina, and that's not exactly my idea of a good time.

 She put one hand over her mouth and tilted her head.

 "I'll go with you," she said after a moment. "But you'll have to wait for me to shower first."

 At the very least, she could walk with him into town and go off on her own after asking him a few questions. It didn't have to be an all-day social affair. But whatever it was going to be, it was better than waiting in her room for Sarina to show up.

[User]
Kuhaku Shiro - Airship Docks

Shiro absently sniffed at the air and could smell blood drawn, which worried him while at the same time confused him. Why Robert would blatantly lie and even go so far as to hide his hand behind his back was beyond him. Needless to say however, the lie marred Shiro's initial impressions of the red-haired student. Tilting his head, his train of thought was redirected in its path when Robert questioned him about his history of insect bites.

"No, can't say I've ever been bitten by a venomous spider. I'd imagine it'd be pretty lethal and painful though." Looking up at the skies above to search his thoughts, Shiro continued after scratching the back of his head and laughing. "Don't think I'll make it a habit to get bitten though. You make it sound like a pretty troublesome event." He was about to ask if maybe Robert was speaking from experience, but the next question again redirected his train of thought. "Oh, me? I was going down into the city to maybe look to get a little music player and some earbuds to go with it. Other than that, I don't have any plans. What about you?"

Before anyone else could get another word in, a blue-haired student sitting at a nearby bench situated on the Airship docks butted into the conversation. The new stranger laughing obnoxiously as he did so. Shiro frowned, his tail swaying to and fro. His ears twitching anxiously. The boy then went on to detail his own 'personal' Broodling bite story, but there was something about his tone that he carried on with that didn't sit right with Shiro. It sounded and felt dishonest, as if he were boasting. As the boy stood and approached them, he introduced himself as Cobalt. His appearance reminded him of another student in his classes, Shiro thought. "Can't help but think he looks a lot like someone else...Anyways, I shouldn't be rude and quick to judge."

Smiling, Shiro reached out with his bandaged hands for 'Cobalt' to shake. "Ah, welcome to Beacon Cobalt! Nice to meet you, I'm Kuhaku Shiro. You can just call me Shiro though," Shiro laughed as he finished up his introduction. "Kuhaku's my family name. My last name, if you will. But for some reason my surname comes first."


[System]
Alias
Black Magic

Age
16

Gender
Female

Appearance
Dianna has short red hair that frames her face, always parted neatly to the side of her head. She has almond eyes, an icy shade of blue making up her irises. On her pale skin, she has a smattering of freckles. Her lips are a naturally sheer shade of pink, and her cheeks appear to have a slight blush.

She stands at a graceful five feet ten inches, with legs that go on for miles. She has an athletic build, strong arms and legs that show how dedicated she is to gymnastics and running. Although she does prefer athleticism, she is usually seen in business casual clothes that suit her well for a teenager.

Personality
Impish, Dark Sense of Humor, Loyal, Dedicated.

Powers
Magick- Dianna is able to use both offensive and defensive magic, though she prefers offensive.

* Transmutation: Through transmutation, Dianna can take something and turn it into something else. She's known for making a joke out of things: a dagger into a bouquet of fresh flowers, a bullet into a flock of doves, she made the news for a week when she turned a lizard into a tyrannosaurus rex which caused the slaughter of many police officers. She is usually seen taking her cat, Ms. Muffins, and transforming her into a menagerie of different animals and tools. The spell lasts until broken by Dianna, which isn't common.
* Curses: With a few empowered Latin words, Dianna can curse others. She has been seen cursing others with simple things like a weak ankle, or deadly things such as diseases. She can also use these hexes to cause mental despair and insanity. Depending on the strength of her victim, the curses can last from five minutes to a lifetime.
* Potions: Dianna is a skilled potion crafter. She can make anything from love potions, to potions that excrete toxic fumes. These potions usually require tricky ingredients, but she does have the necessary ones in her base.
* Energy Shields/Domes: The name says it all. Dianna can make energy domes around her, or flat circular shields in front of her. The larger the shield, the weaker it will be, and the more concentration it will require to uphold. If Dianna plans to take a group into her dome, she will probably end up with a hideous migraine, if she doesn't fall unconscious of course. The shields can withhold blasts from medium sized explosives, projectiles, and sharp/blunt weapons. They will strain under too much pressure though, cracking until they break.

Skills
Sleight of Hand- Dianna is an excellent thief, without the usage of her magic she can probably strip someone down to their knickers without them knowing any better.

Stage Magic- To keep with the magician motif, Dianna has aced many card tricks. She can pull a rabbit out of a hat, throw daggers blindfolded. If you've seen it on a stage, she can recreate it. Not the most practical of skills, but it gets a good laugh.

Gymnastics/Athleticism: Dianna is a skilled gymnast, she is also skilled at running. She has a tank that almost never runs empty, allowing her to outrun most of her foes.

Skilled Swordsman: Dianna is a gifted swordsman, having been taught by the Wise One himself. She is also good with most blades, such as throwing knives, daggers, and anything with a pointy end.

Equipment
A Bandolier: instead of bullets she has small servings of all her favorite potions.
* Sleeping Potion: When thrown on the ground, the potion will shatter and create a gas that will knock most people out. The gas can get through most spaces, so covering one's face with a t-shirt will only work for so long.
* Healing Potion: Once drunk, this potion will heal minor wounds. It can also lessen the blood flow of some major wounds.
* Curse Removal: In case a cursed person can still be useful, Dianna carries servings of her own special concoction that removes any curses she has placed on someone. It restores them back to their original state, whatever that was.

Throwing Daggers: As much as she likes to think so, magic doesn't solve every problem. At each hip she carries a sheathe of four throwing knives. Two of which are tipped with poison, for those special moments.

Ms. Muffins II: Sadly, the first Ms. Muffins died in a firefight. Now, Dianna carries Ms. Muffins II. Much like her predecessor, Ms. Muffins II is used mainly as a device for Transmutation, if she doesn't have a hostage on hand. She's also used for good times and snuggles!

Short Bio
Dianna's beginnings started with the Wise One. The Wise One was a hero turned villain after a few complications with the law. He hid away, only coming out to cause a horrific scene once a year on the Fourth of July. Finally, the hideous massacres ended. They just stopped one year, things ran smoothly.

This was because he had found a new Apprentice. The Wise One always had a soft spot for children, and his past lover had moved on and given birth to a beautiful red haired baby. The child was the spitting image of her mother, and carried the abilities needed to be a good witch.

So, her teachings began. For every spell, the Wise One planted a bit of his own essence into her. He began aging, after a while. On the day her training was completed, he finally died. Dianna was still small, a ten year old with a cat and the power to kill. She took after her Master, her first attack was on July Fourth, an homage to him before she became her own villain. Now, she's known throughout the world as a killer, a villian. She couldn't be happier.

Other
N/A

[User]
"Columbae."

Maverick watched the situation from her new seat (that was so respectfully recommended to her by their new host), and the girl who gave her bad vibes seemed to be some sort of...witch? A magic word ended the conversation between her and another patron, turning the chair into a flock of birds that now were festering about on the ceiling. Great.

Suddenly, a shudder ran up and down Maverick's spine. An after effect of being shot at. She exhaled and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her thighs and resting her cloth covered chin in her hands. The longer the night went on, the harder it was becoming to stay cool. This was representing an unfortunate trend. She hoped this Presence didn't plan to keep this group of misfits together for long.

[Assistant]
She had spent most of her time twirling a piece of the red side of her hair with her finger. Looking around the others had not quite interested her. The only ones that she had really seemed to notice were the cute ones. When the guns fired off Queenie tucked her head down so that her forehead was touching her knees. She protected her head with her arms screaming, "Eep!!!" As she hid from the bullets. Luckily for her, she hadn't been the target and the pain never came. After a moment she raised her head and looked around. So many of the others seemed unaffected. The fish-eating one sat down as well as Naked Lad and the one concealing her face. "Oh! Okay!" Queen seemed to confirm something to herself and continued on grinning at the others. Mako in particular. This newcomer had a strange aura about him that she liked a lot. And it wasn't just because he was dressed as strangely as her either. The thoughts going through her mind were sinister along with sexual, which was normal for her but this time she had her sights set on the fish boy. When that one guy fell down after that kitten lady cast some magic spell, Queenie burst out laughing.

"Ahahaha!! That was so funny! I love magic!" Then something occurred to the strange young woman. "WAIT A MINUTE! YOU CAN'T KEEP US HERE, I'VE GOT PLACES TO BE. MY GUESTS AT THE ASYLUM WILL MISS ME IF I'M GONE TO LONG!!" At last she had processed what the booming voice had said, a little late. Queen folded her arms across her chest with a pouting express"No fair!"

[User]
"You will be allowed to do things in the outside world, but know that I am always watching you and if you betray the group then you will be taken care of" The Presence spoke to the group.

"Now, moving on to your first. You all will be robbing The Central Bank of Europe. I have a plan that is guaranteed to the work if you all do your jobs. You will be leaving for Germany in two days, so get yourselves prepared."

---

2 days later

The Presence had them journey to Frankfurt Germany by means of an experimental military jet with the capability of landing vertically. The pilot of the plane was mercenary under contract with The Presence. The flight only took a few hours and while they were on their decent towards a rural field.

"Remember to keep a low profile and when you get into Frankfurt, I will lead you through the plan" The Presence said to them as the plane landed.

---

Andrew exited the plane and had a look around at the Germain landscape.

"I always wanted to see what Germany was like" he said out loud.

[Assistant]
Conrat was confused to say the least. He knew what a bank was, but he couldn't fathom a bank for the entirety of Europe. Did everyone have to travel to Germany to use it? What about the Britons? Did they just not use banks? What was the point of a bank anyway? Who has enough money to keep it lying around?

What overpowered his confusion was an overwhelming sense of joy. He hadn't been back in Germany since he was initially frozen solid. The centuries had moved him all around the place, but he'd never actually been brought back to his fatherland in all the time he was frozen.

---

1176
40 miles from Hamburg
Die Traurige Brigade camp

Smoke lifted and danced in the air as Conrat left footsteps in the snow on his way back to his parents. In his arms he carried a bundle of sticks and on his waist rested a sheathed, oversized sword. A noble had enlisted the brigade to assist in a battle the very next day, and anxiety was high as per usual. There was no telling how the battle would go, especially with the weather being as it was.

Conrat unloaded his delivery of sticks onto the fire, his adoptive father, a tall broad shouldered man named Jonas sat, a grim expression on his face as he scraped a sharpening stone down his longsword. As if Conrat had just appeared from thin air, Jonas' head shot towards looking at him, a small smile grew on his face. At first, Jonas was hugely against the boy. He only tolerated him for the sake of his wife, but over the years and throughout the battles he had grown to love the boy as his son.
"You feelin' alright, Hannibal?" He asked. The nickname was something he'd picked up in a book strangely enough. The book was a historical recount of the Carthagian invasion of Italy led, of course, by Hannibal.
"Better than alright! I have a great feeling about tomorrow!" He said, confident as ever.

The next day the battle would turn in favour of the opposition. A great deal of Die Traurige Brigade was lost, and a night raid resulted in the loss of, Conrat's mother.

---

Conrat leaped out of the helicopter, pushing past, Andrew with a large forearm and displaying his joy evidently on his face. He took in the field that lay before him, even the grass looked different to him, looked homely. He was forced into casual wear, carrying his armour and sword in an exceptionally large sports bag. He wore a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a pair of jeans and a rather scruffy pair of converse shoes.
"Ah, the fatherland" He exclaimed, joy and nostalgia evident in the tone of his voice. He turned back to the rest of the group, hoping to engage a few in conversation while they made their way into Frankfurt. "I wonder how it's all changed since I was frozen, I hope they still sell bratwurst!" He said joyously, oblivious to the heavenly taste of currywurst.

[User]
Phone Freak stepped lightly out of the plane, bag letting out a muffled clanking sound as she did. She was still dressed for heavy, cold weather and still wearing her mask. Turning back, she cast a long pointed glance at the military grade jet still kicking up a cloud of debris around her. "Looooooow profile!" she said, giving it a thumbs up. "Got it boss."

She'd been lucky she'd gotten those two days to head back to her workshop and prepare. She'd gathered materials she thought she might need for this job, but as the plan was as yet forthcoming that could be practically anything. It'd also given her a chance to check up properly on this new team, and it had not been pretty. Even if she wasn't a paranoid who guarded her identity like a nucleate launch code she still wouldn't take her mask off in front of some of these people. It was just a bad move letting that type know your face. She'd have to ditch the helmet when they got near Frankfurt, but she figured that by that time she'd have ditched them to. It would be dangerous for her, but they'd probably run into a phone line before they got to the city.

That was all in the future though. Right now she was stepping out to survey the German wilderness. Or the field, at least. "Oh, he's been chugging along." She said to Conrat conversationally. "Around 1871 it all became a single country. Famous for cars, beer, and trying to fight the entire world all at the same time. Twice. But that's all behind them. Now they've settled for being the biggest economy in all of Europe. Which is why the bank we're knocking over is here."

[Assistant]
Dianna stepped out of the plane, thanking the pilot kindly for his work. She adjusted the strap on her bandolier and thumbed the daggers on her hips, hidden from all eyes except hers with the help of a little enchantment. Ms. Muffins II stepped out alongside her, taking her rightful place at Dianna's feet. She meowed, for the first time since they had started their flight. She was a good little travel companion, always quiet when the situation called for it.

It was their first team effort, and Dianna was not one to disappoint. She could lay low all she wanted, in casual street clothes that Wise One would probably disapprove of. She hadn't seen the others in two days, and in that time she had prepped new potions and practiced her magic.

"Germany. Lovely place indeed, yes, folks here know me well." She giggled mischievously, referencing her times slaughtering the innocents on the streets in Germany. Her eyes gleamed with nostalgia as she remembered the romp she and Ms. Muffins had here.


[System]
Appearance
s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/0..
Title: The Chaste Knight, The Stormcrow, One-Eye

Age: 29

Height: 6'2

Weight: 185 lbs.

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Dull Red

Gender: Female

Lineage: Human

Class: Knight

Side: Silver Shields

Skill: Ioetta is skilled in the martial art of swordsmenship. She combines her speed with her own physical strength, making her a formidable fighter. Ioetta, however, is weak in techniques and prefers to use power in all her attacks. Her training as a knight has granted her excellent horse riding skills, along with her talent in handling or training animals. Ioetta is quite physically fit, possessing good stamina and constitution.

Weapon(s):
Knecht kriegsmesser
Location: Sheathed at her left hip. The hilt of the Knecht is constructed with two grip-slabs that are secured with tubular rivets. The pommel cap shows a "fuller" or hollow-grind that continues the length of the grip to the guard. Secured by a rivet through the guard is a lug on the outside of the hilt that protects the knuckles of the hand. This is an important feature as the blade is used in binding and winding techniques that otherwise easily might result in damage of the forward hand.
Overall length: 113 cm (44.5 in)
Blade length: 85.5 cm (33.6 in)
Blade thickness: 7.25 mm (between 9/32 and 5/16 in) near the guard, tapering down to 3.25 mm (about 1/8 in) near the point
Blade material: 6150 carbon steel, tempered to around 55 HRC

Weight: 1375 g (3 lbs)
Point of balance: 12.5 cm (5 in) from the hilt

Ring Dagger
Location: Designed to hang from a hook attached to a knights armor, the ring dagger is a necessary addition to a knights defense on the field. This battle ready dagger has a tempered steel blade. The dagger has brass pommel and guard, and it includes a leather sheath.
Overall Length: 16 Inches
Blade Length: 9.5 Inches
Blade Width: 1.5 Inches

Arm Right: Knecht kriegsmesser

Arm Left: Empty

Armor: Ioetta wears a breastplate crafted from steel and is supported by a backplate. There are buckles attached to the armour and leather straps that come with the breastplate to make it wearable without a backplate. If you are wanting to wear this breastplate with a backplate, it is compatible with the steel Backplate for King or Templar and will also work with our Leather Backplates. With a unique raised steel design in the center of the breastplate, this armour fits just about any period for any character. Size Large.

Helm: N/A
Shoulders: Steel pauldrons with cannons, padded leather underneath
Bracers: Metal gauntlets
Chest Piece: Steel breastplate cuirass back and front supported by chain mail underneath over light padding.
Leggings: Chainmail
Greaves: Cowhide leather
Emblems: (Where the Personal Arms of the Company are located.)
Waist: Tassets, belted onto the front of the breastplate

Emblem- Located on the back of her shoulder cape.

Background:

Lady Ioetta Vetcel was Baroness to the province of The Cerulean Lakes during the time of the Kingdom of Hosredor. She was a close friend to the king, counting herself among his childhood friends. A adept commander, she served excellently in the King's Army. It was said she turned down many offers to claim the social ladder and become Viscountess of the Southern territories. She however turned them down, preferring to instead dedicate her time and effort on her home town at Cerulean Lake.

She is among the few higher ranking members of the nobility to survive the Orc horde invasion. Playing a crucial role in holding the rear guard during the final retreat. The King died in the last battle against the greenskins and Ioetta has blamed herself for it ever since. Choosing to bear the scar of it as her greatest failure; it was in that same battle she lost her right eye, thus it acts as a reminder to her constantly. She joined the Silver Shields not long after its formation. Believing wholeheartedly that they will one day give birth to the Kingdom of Hosredor once more.

She is among the companies most talented commanders and still possess great skill on the battlefield.

[User]
Screams echoed through the city. The guttural roars of the bestial creatures sacking the once proud city mingled with cries of fear and pain. Chaos reigned. Lars stared at the broken haft of his lance, the metal tip stained dark with blood. Seated, the weight of the world pressed upon him, he was tired. The skirmishes had been short, bloody and often one-sided.

Tossing the spearhead away, the dull clatter it made as it rolled along the stoned bridge faded quickly as a dream lost among the louder clamor of battle. Behind him, the grunts and heaves of men, muffled and distant as they ensured the great gate remained shut.

Rising with caution he heard then felt a click in his shoulder, a grimace of pain rippled across his dirt stained face. An orc, large and brutish, managed to catch Lars in such a ways that his club hammered his left shoulder. Thank the gods that his padding had absorbed the blow, it staggered him, dropped him to a knee, but it did not kill him. Somewhere an orc lay in a pool of his blood, his entrails strew across his body; sliced open by the spear, in a ragged, ugly way.

A tremendous crash at the far end stirred Lars from his thoughts as he adjusted the shield with a grunt. They were here, now on the bridge. Lars glanced at his companion. Tall, stout, and fierce. Truly, he could ask for no greater companion to fight alongside. Lady Ioetta Vetcel was as skilled as any man, and more so than most.

Cracking his neck a moment as he eyed the far end. With a sudden move, he slammed his shield against the gate behind him. A loud, metallic thud echoing between them. Drawing his war sword, Lars straightened inhaling deeply.

"Aye Lady. We should make haste for the coach; it may provide a bulwark against them. If nothing else we can force them to fight us singularly if we hold the paths alongside it."

Transferring the sword to his left hand, Lars scooped his great helm up and placed it atop his head. Adjusting it a moment, he returned the gleaming, deadly blade to his right hand and began moving with swift and sure determination towards the coach.

[Assistant]
"Sounds good to me," Phia said under her breath. She had an arrow knocked already, gently pulling it idly as she paced one from one end of the pathway to the other. Phia was in good condition. Too good. She'd barely seen any real fighting with this two big-guys around. They had already slit the throats of any idiot that got in their way before she could get a shot off. They had gotten extremely lucky. No real opposition, when the rest of the Black Talon hit this place like a flood of water, smashing into buildings, spilling into the streets ransacking.

It was good to know that she was with competent fighters and not just blood-thirsty maniacs. Okay, they might be blood-thirsty maniacs but that's not all they are. They didn't just leave her behind as they went to go off and rape some children or something. Phia scanned as her two comrades walked on. She trailed behind, glancing over the edge of the bridge. It's a long fall. Movement catches her eye, two distant figures fighting near the edge. They clumsily stumble over eachother and go stumbling into the abyss. She couldn't help but chuckle. It was funny, to imagine people being so uncoordinated.

Phia idly pulled her string once more, and faced their six, slowly walking backwards trailing behind.

[User]
Smoke drifted into the scorched air in lazy spirals, huddling like ravens over the bridge. Three more scavengers made it to the structure's far edge-- Black Talons, birds of prey attracted by their thirst for blood, riled by the thought that it would soon rain down into the canyon below. Kirian Varlos tasted his teeth, the tang of iron sharp against his thoughts. The entire day had been spent spreading a fine mist of dirt, sweat, blood, hate, fear into the air. For many, it tasted better than drink. It tasted better than food. Kirian tasted the chaos in the air, and narrowed his eyes on the gate looming ahead. He didn't even enjoy the feast; he'd had so much that all he could have was more.

Kirian's armor shod boots rattled lightly against the cobblestones as he strode alongside Phia and Gernev, impassively picking out details like a crow among men. From this distance, a stagecoach ahead looked to be about 12 meters away, with the gate another 25 or so meters beyond that, with various debris littered like so many corpses near the wreck of the coach. He rested his hand on the haft of his bec de corbin, and turned as Gernev ended the march with a signal to stop.

"They maybe taken cover behind this coach." He rumbled, "Phia, you stay behind, me and Kirian will go see if it is true. Is that good?"

"Sounds good to me." Phia voiced her affirmation, and took to the rear. Kirian offered a nod to her in response as she passed, and drew his bastard sword as he turned to face Gernev.

"Let's go. If they mean to take the coach, we'll draw them around to give Phia a clear shot.", he said, voice like iron, "If not, we'll secure, have her take point on top."

Kirian repositioned himself a good distance from the right lip of the bridge, close enough to Gernev that either of the mercenaries could freely engage in a melee with their comrade. Kirian primed himself for action, dismissing anything in his mind but the bare essentials in preparation for combat. He stood ready to move quickly at the edge of Gernev's sphere of influence, just far enough that any soldiers that got too brave with the Witch Knight would have to turn to see the other Talon, or be blindsided by a full grown orc. As soon as Gernev was ready, Kirian would stalk to the right, pacing himself to be a meter or two behind, keeping alert so that he could signal Phia of any changes.

Kirian's eyes narrowed again, unable to resist the sigil of the Silver Shields flying proudly alongside the carved insignia of Xoni above the palace gate. The entire day had been spent among similar banners torn to shreds, stained by men who were wrong in thinking they had the strength to hold it aloft. Kirian had spent the entire siege among broken shields and broken people, seen them starve in their walls, and their empty stomachs spread against their alleys. That would serve them just as well. Seeing those flags fly high and proud, Kirian looked forward to the next meal.

[Assistant]
Karvos was the last to join his companions, his tower shield heavily bloodied after smashing in the face of an unlucky and witless marauding Black Talon member who made the mistake of believing that shields were only used for defense and got a tad too close for comfort. The pointy end of his halberd was similarly soiled, though everything else about him was clean besides a few speckles of blood here and there, none of which were his own. His handsome face was relatively calm and quite focused on the task at hand, which matched the confident yet brisk stride that he took as he approached the rendezvous point before the enemy would have a chance to intercept him while he was on his own. Fighting was one of the few things that he was really good at, so as things stood now, the attackers were not all that impressive to him outside of their numbers. He still couldn't fight everyone alone or would be quickly overwhelmed if left out in the open, plus he was bound to run into more competent enemies if they had made it this far into the city without getting killed off or allowing themselves to be distracted by other things.

He didn't introduce himself to the two, only nodding silently as he took a temporary position between them, standing behind the stagecoach that they were approaching. Although he didn't bother introducing himself, revealing the Silver Shield emblem on his bracer and leaving it at that, he felt like they should get on to business quickly so he spoke up.

"I'll take out whoever you need, just so long as I can point a stick at them," he said confidently. "I'm not one for giving orders, only following them."

[User]
Ioetta nodded in response to her comrades. She cracked her neck to one side and rolled the shoulder of her left arm. Favoring it somewhat due to an earlier glancing blow which had left behind marks and indentations in the armor. Then without further hesitation Ioetta held her kriegsmesser in her right hand and began moving forward. Working to quickly close the 23 or so meters to the stagecoach abandoned in the center of the bridge. The sound of metal gently bumping against into metal echoed as the Silver Shield defenders moved up mixing with the cacophony of their feet on the hard flagstone and the screams across the east end of the city.

Lady Ioetta knew once they began to near the enemy would become aware of their presence. Stealth would be no real aid here, but speed would be. Coming to the front of the stagecoach Ioetta slowed her steps as she stopped before an overturned crate. She took a position along the left hand side and waited.

Without turning her head away from that side of the coach, she gestured for one of them to hold the right side of the coach with a wave of her right hand. At least with three of them they could have one reserve member if one side began to falter. She stood so that the coach blocked her profile until one had nearly rounded the corner-- standing just 6 feet from the driver's seat. Standing so that the crate would block underneath the stagecoach. She hardly wanted her feet shot out from under her in case the enemy had come armed crossbows.

She felt her heart hammering in her chest as sweat beaded down her forward. The adrenalin already coursing through her body in anticipation for the violence soon to follow. She slowed her breathing and waited. There was nothing else left to do for now.


[System]
Nick: "Ben" or "Gigger"
Gender: Male
Age: 33

Appearance: Ben is not handsome. He stands 5' 9" tall and weighs 170 Lbs. His muscles are taut from years of working a farm or pounding spikes on the railroad. He has steel gray eyes and short brown hair which is usually dirty. His fingernails are normally black and/or filled with grease. Gigger normally wears blue dickies, solid colored T-shirts and Red Wing steel toed boots. He chews tobacco frequently and you might find traces of partially chewed tobacco in his chin stubble or drippings on his T-shirt.

Bio: Ben Giguere was born and raised in Bellows Falls, Vermont, not far from the Connecticut River. His father was an avid Red Sox fan and would take young Benjamin to the country store in North Walpole, New Hampshire just to get a glimpse of "Pudge", Carlton Fisk after his retirement from the White Sox in 1993.

Ben's father, Paul owned a farm in the hills south of Bellows Falls not far from the Railroad tracks and the river. Farming in Vermont is difficult; you go to work before the sun comes up and you finish long after the sun goes down. Paul Giguere was disciplined about the farm and kept at it all day long. When Ben was not in school, doing homework or sleeping, he was helping his old man on the farm.

Often times while out harrowing a field, bailing hay or harvesting field corn, Paul would tell his son that he should look into working for the Central Vermont Railroad which ran along the eastern edge of their property. Ben rarely took his father's suggestions seriously, but tended to his work regardless. When Ben graduated from Bellows Falls Union High School, he never looked back. He did play Defensive Back for The Terriers and outfield on the baseball team, but never good enough to go to College. Nor were his grades all that impressive; lucky to have all Cs.

He went to work for his father full time after school, but found being around dad all day to be irritating; cramping his style. He quietly drove down to the railroad office for the Green Mountain Railway located in North Walpole to inquire about employment. He was told they were not hiring, but that he should check with the New England Central in St. Albans, VT. He was given a phone number to call.

Following a two-week process, Ben hired onto the New England Central Railroad, formerly the Central Vermont in 2002. He took a job working as a Track Maintenance Technician. This meant he would have to inspect portions of the rail that ran from the Canadian border north of St. Albans, south to the Massachusetts border at Vernon, VT. He learned the job working with an experienced trackman. He and three other rode in the same "High railer" inspecting track and replacing 100-pound and 130-pound rail where it was needed. Every year they also engaged in replacing the large wooden ties, soaked in creosote. It was usually, the hottest day of the summer when they were working the tie job.

Paul Giguere and his sons Benjamin and Preston who was two years younger than Ben always looked forward to Deer hunting season in late November and early December. The nice thing about Vermont is they have a Rifle Season. Unfortunately, their Massachusetts neighbors to the south only have shotgun season. This tends to send a flock of clueless flatlanders north into the hills of Vermont to get lost. There were more than a few times when Ben and his father and brother would run across a flatlander winded somewhere west of Windsor Mountain searching for the way out of the woods. They would offer their assistance and help the godforsaken clueless bastards out, and then laugh at them behind their backs later on. It made for some funny stories.

His favorite hunting rifle was a Marlin .30-.30 lever action rifle. His dad used a Marlin 336C in .35 cal. Both rifles had 7x50 scopes mounted on them. His brother, Preston used a Remington .30-06 which also had a 7x50 scope mounted on it.

After the Russians invaded, things did not go well for Ben. His parents, Paul Giguere and wife Lauren were killed from an automobile accident on Interstate 91. The death of his parents devastated Ben. He viewed the Russian invasion with hatred. Although, the invasion did not directly cause his parent's death, it did facilitate it. With the presence of Russians in Bellows Falls, Ben took to the hills in search of a group he heard about one day at work. He put together his standard hunting kit along with a few extra supplies. He also took his 31 year old brother, Preston with him.

Psychological Profile: Ben never cared for politics, as was his attitude toward school in general. He focused on his work and his hobbies. He enjoyed working, whether it be farming or track maintenance and he loved hunting. Ben's father, Paul was firm while raising his two sons, but fair. He was never too hard on them, but didn't let them slide by either. He made them work for everything they achieved and this has shown through in their personalities. Both boys are quiet and polite. They are hard to rattle.

Ben really doesn't have an opinion of the current situation other than he knows the Soviet invasion is bad. He would like to help return Vermont and the US back to the way it used to be. He is willing to fight to bring back the USA.

Skillset/Occupation:
- experienced at farming
- tractor & automotive maintenance
- hunting; skilled with a hunting rifle
"I can put a round through a flea's ass at five hundred yards."
- Railroad infrastructure; rail cars, ties, switches, rail head and bridges.
- welding
- canning (fruits and vegetables)
- cooking (on a stove or outdoors)
- Winter survival skills
- stripping a recently killed animal, smoking and drying the meat.
- tracking prey
- knowledge of the topography and geography of central & southern Vermont.
- snowshoeing

Equipment: Hunting pack, sleeping bag, Mess kit, fork, knife, spoon, spare socks, spare T-shirts, candles, box of 500 matches, two bic lighters, two cans of WD-40, roll of duct tape, two spare pair of dickies, four spare T-shirts, olive drab green field jacket used for hunting, olive drab green field pants with cargo pockets also used for hunting, two sets of long underwear with extra heavy wool socks, wet weather poncho, a pack of Juicy Fruit gum, brown towel, razor, shave cream, soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, dental floss, cross tip screw driver, flat head screwdriver, pliers, adjustable wrench, wire cutters, 2-quart bladder canteen, quart bottle of Jim Beam Whiskey, roll of Copenhagen chewing tobacco, flashlight with spare batteries, 150 feet of half inch rope and a Boston Red Sox Baseball cap with a rolled, rounded bill, filthy & worn at the brim.

Weapons:
- Marlin .30-.30 lever action rifle
- Ruger Redhawk .44 Caliber Revolver
- 9" hunting knife
- Survival knife
- Swiss Army pocket knife

Relationships and Acquaintances:
Daniel Martin

Calla Shepard

Joe Sullivan

[User]
"So does Billy know you're out here in the woods, playing commando?" LeBeau asked Joe.

One of his guys began to walk towards Ben to take the money at the same time Ben began to walk towards him with the cash. Joe titled his cap -- a grey newsboy-- back on his head at a jaunty angle. To the rest of the group it was the sign to get ready. Ben had just handed the bag to LeBeau's guy, Stone was his name. The two men were already retreating back to their respective sides as if there was an invisible chasm between Joe and LeBeau. There was a tension in the air. More than the usual hand off tension that Joe knew well. As soon as he'd titled his cap, his side had become on edge and he could feel it. He hoped like hell LeBeau and his guys couldn't feel it as well.

"Billy knows," Joe said with a grin. "He knows all about this. He's hard as a fucking rock over it. Billy loves his country. How about you, Mikey? What do you love?"

"Money," said LeBeau. He looked down into the bag and smiled before turning to Joe. "This is what I love."

It was time.

"Of course you do, comrade."

He said it without edge or force. It was just a neutral statement, but LeBeau had recoiled like Joe had slapped him across the face.

"What the fuck did you just say?" asked LeBeau.

Joe went for the pistol tucked into his waistband just as LeBeau and his guys started going for their weapons. Joe pulled out his Beretta, and that's when all hell broke loose.

[Assistant]
Homicide, not Murder

---

"What the fuck did you just say?" was Dan's signal; he had a smooth draw, weaver-stance and blasted out into Fitzsimmons' center mass. He splattered blood and flesh out the back; 9mm, 147gr hollowpoints. Huge mess exiting. Illegal in wartime, but so was being out of uniform and fighting, and the KGB wasn't exactly strong on distinctions anyway. So they used the most brutal methods in defense of their own country and maybe someday a court would sort it out depending on who won.

The man was crumpling already and he was searching for the next target, with a snarl on his face. The place already smelled like blood and cordite and his shot grouping was probably tight enough that the investigator, if they knew what they were looking at, might well comment on it. But you were in the fight and you didn't worry about making it look deliberately sloppy, or the CIA could send some hitters that could engineer it. They were guerrillas and this was the dirty stuff.

At least he knew he didn't have to off Joe, it was an immense relief; later on, he would try to forget about it.

He was already shuffling his step aside and moving with his pistol in place, looking to line up Stone. The man had to drop the bag and draw the gun and he was already at a huge disadvantage. But Dan was checking his angles, making sure he didn't have Gigger and Joe in the line of fire. So he decided to cover a different angle, keeping a watch on the entrances, keeping it very cool with one of the first essential rules of using a weapon -- make sure of your target. He didn't feel he had a clear shot and wanted to clear it so that Joe or Gigger did get that shot. Three on one was dangerous in that regard, and Danny was able to get out of the way easiest, and take the man down if he decided to do a runner, though it would be Preston that did that guy if he got loose from the warehouse.

Either way, job was getting done and Joe definitely was a Green Mountain Boy now.

[User]
Ben handed the bag of money off to the wise guy. He stepped back behind Joe near Dan. He looked up towards the woods. It was a clear line of sight. Then he heard the words he had been keyed up to hear, "What the fuck did you just say?"

Simultaneously, Ben "Gigger" Giguere unholstered his Ruger .44 with Dan, bringing the sights up to engage one of Mike LeBeau's henchmen. With the revelation of the pistols, Preston Giguere, who was watching from a distant hill, he quickly lined up the crosshairs of his scoped .30-06 on the Canadian and slowly squeezed the trigger. The 180-grain projectile exited the muzzle of the rifle at 2700 feet per second. It closed the 300 meters distance in a fraction of a second striking the man at the neck, penetrating into the opposing shoulder where it could be eventually discovered inside the man's right pectoral muscle. The projectile severed the carotid artery on the way in causing a six-foot long arterial spurt to paint the ground and anyone standing near him in warm blood.

Mr LeBeau's face had a contorted pained look on his face as the bullet penetrated the trachea allowing his blood to seep into his lungs. He began to gasp and choke, slowly dropping to his knees as he drowned in his own blood. He spat the blood out upon the ground. He lay still on the ground as the blood oozed out of his mouth and the hole in his neck. His lips quivered from reflex as the life slowly left his corpse.

Ben searched for additional targets, engaging when available. He lowered his stance to a kneeling one aware of where Dan and Joe were at all times. Preston scanned the scene to find anyone attempting to flee the area. He cocked the rifle and engaged anyone who did not remain with Dan, Joe and Ben.