[System]
Age:

22

Appearance:

 Subject stands 160 cm (5'2") in height. Subject also has light hazel eyes with short hair to match.

Abilities:

 Subject possesses an unobserved form of  Affinity with Pain*  (*Suffering?): Record has the Subject breaking a door off its hinges when it was accidentally closed on and injured her fingers. While it was evident there was damage – multiple broken phalanxes and torn skin – the injury seemed to have never happened, suggesting a Regenerative Healing Factor. The strength which she gained to break the door was hypothesized to come from her injury.

 The extent to which the two abilities are able to reach is unknown. Further insight is needed.

History:

 Subject is of Gaelic origin, raised in The United Kingdom. Parents show no obvious signs of empowerment, and have therefore the hypothesis that the Subject's abilities are of a spontaneous mutation is further supported. Parents are a non-factor.

 Subject is a student of Department of Law in the  London School of Economics and Political Science  – top of her class, with multiple intern experiences with many important figures. Many people know her.

 Her current residence is in the central London area, alone, supported with her position of Paralegal in Yip Tse & Chiang, a Chinese-based law firm.

[User]
Agent Dioxide nodded to Subject 30, and turned to leave. As expected, there she was in the hallway with his partner. She looked frail and weak, cowering over the much taller Agent. It's hard to think that what had happened just a few days ago was caused by her.

He took Gershwin by the arm, and she obliged, though with resistance. He gave a sympathetic glance to Agent Caits that said:  'yeah, another one of those moments.'

…

Gershwin did not reciprocate a reply to Agent Caits nor Agent Dioxide after she was pulled into the elevator. They were several floors up, so the silence was suffocating. She knew she'd messed up and she figured there would be some kind of repercussion. Halfway down, she thought back to Cody – a handsome lad with a gift for music. What he said kept ringing around in her mind:  'You're bright, so very bright.'

Mildly touched, she also thought if it had anything to do with her being (supposedly) abnormal. She thought not to bring this up with Agent Dioxide.

'So, how much in trouble am I?'

'You're not in trouble – you're not the first one to try. At least we stopped you before you got out of the building. Only then would you have been in trouble, but not by us. We're here to take care of you two because you're important to us - to potentially be able to save and change the world.'

Agent Dioxide said that with such indignation and hatred, yet his voice did not expose that, at least he hoped it didn't.

'Somehow I don't think you believe half of what you just said.'

She got it.

More silence as they neared the first floor.

'I'm not saying you have to go exercise every day, but it would be preferable since…'

He stopped himself.

'Since they're going to be examining me, right?'

'You aren't as exasperated as before.'

'Why should I be?'

'You should be, though.'

'I now realize that there is no way for me to escape this place. The least I can do is be resistant to your every way, but I won't fight back.'
'Gandhi.'

Had it not been for the very quiet lift, their nervous snickering would not have been heard.

'Keep that uniform on. That's the only way you'll get food at the cafeteria I told you. I'll see you tomorrow.'

The two parted separate ways, as Gershwin headed for SRD, Agent Dioxide Communications. She watched him walk away before finally tuning in to her surroundings. Despite her ability to wander around, her mobility was strictly limited with cameras, guard posts, and patrols everywhere. She made the smart choice early in Communications, but it was definitely a depressing revelation that her confirmations are all true: she was not going to leave.

---

The Subjects' cells are activated only with specific hand-prints. Not even the sanitation staff can enter to clean up. Only two sets are allowed access: the caretakers, and the subjects themselves.

Two panels are present on both sides of the door. Subjects and Caretakers are able to enter, but only the Caretakers are able to exit. A subject may only exit through the authorization of a present Caretaker.

With this knowledge in mind, Gershwin put aside the thought of briefly napping. She instead decided to travel up and down the elevator to different floors, walking to wherever she wasn't disallowed access. This amounted to very little; there was barely a window to look into and a doorway that isn't locked without key-cards.

An hour had passed. She went to the floor where the cafeteria was. It was almost full, but people made no effort to conceal their fear and apprehension for her, moving themselves away. Some chose to stand and eat. Had they not been told that the Subjects were valuable, they would have shot her on sight. Surely they were all trained professional killers, and nothing was stopping them. But it did feel awful to know that she was hated out of spite.

She took a tray of food, and sat herself down. Around this time, Cody should be on his way. She ate slowly, hoping to catch him before the allotted time was up.

[Assistant]
Cody stood there by himself a moment, then, with a sigh, he started out the room. He supposed he couldn't be there forever, although it made him happy. It gave him piece in this place. He approached Agent Caits, assuming she would lead him back to his cell. While he was confident he could find his way back, letting them believe he was just a little bit helpless would probably work in his favor.

He didn't speak to Agent Caits, and suspected she didn't particularly want to speak either. That was fine by Cody. It gave him time to listen to his surroundings, and to memorise the path.

As it was explained that he would be given freedom, he blinked.

'No offense, but freedom for me isn't exactly being able to walk around. I need to be shown around, before I can walk about by myself, otherwise'

His tone was cheery, so cheery that Agent Caits wondered if anything ever damped that easy going nature. She sighed, but took the time to show Cody where he could go, and how to get there, before leaving him.

Given his freedom, Cody merely returned to his cell, leaving the door open by standing in it, he studied the hand pad on the inside, humming. It wasn't really seeing it. He stood there a moment, before shrugging, and then heading out the cell.

He began to go where he could, making note of the camera's and sensors he could, by sound and by the light that surrounded them. He didn't make a fuss, and occasionally he used the wall, as if he needed a guidance. He knew he was being watched, and this was another chance to make himself seem helpless.

He imagined it fooled some of them, but not all. He eventually made his way to the cafeteria, stopping in the doorway, he listened. It was clear there was some unrest, and he scanned the crowd, easily picking out Gerswhin by her light signature.

He got some food, ignoring the people there, and headed over to Gerswhin, sitting down.

'Hello. How are you?'

[User]
Cody was the only figure that approached even close to her, so Gershwin knew who it was immediately, and smiled as she watched him sit.

'Tell me. I have this assumption. Do these people around us glow as bright as I do?'

---

[Assistant]
Cody smiled, almost shyly, and gave a shrug, stabbing a piece of cauliflower, he ate it, chewing thoughtfully. He put his fork down, and leaned forward slightly.

'Well. There's...no, not really. Some are dimmer, and that generally means they will die soon, or...they just aren't living truly. Some are bright, which generally means...they have a strong character. You...You are very bright'

He hummed, and leaned back, tilting his head as if studying Gerswhin.

'You are wondering if we glow brighter then normal people, aren't you? I can't truthfully answer that, as I don't know if I've ever met other anomalies'

He picked up his fork again, and stabbed a carrot.

---

[quote=File #40]

United Nations Anomalies Research Mission

[right]Date and Time: 09/03/2016, 1830

Analyse report-Subject 30

Analysing Subject 30's abilities is proving to be more difficult then imagined. The subject is aware that we are watching him, and aware that we know he knows we are watching them. At times it appears he is playing with us, and it becomes difficult to tell when he is. Is this merely a way for the subject to test boundaries, or something else? The subject also appears to be testing the limits of his powers, but at times this is subtle and we are unable to catch it.

Further Analyse of the subjects blood shows that, despite initially being normal asides from the light particles, there are abnormalities. The subject's blood, despite being in containment to prevent clotting (Heparin used primarily for this), the blood has clotted and studying this shows the active ability of the blood to clot to prevent loss, despite, in this case a lack of need.

Why is this so? Does this support the theory of the subject being able to heal himself? A bloody hand print left on the wall of the subject's cell does also seem to support this, but has yet to be proven conclusively. The use of specialists in this case is required, and their report is forthcoming.[/quote]

---

[User]
Gershwin only nodded in reply, and watched back as intently as she was being watched. At this point for now there really was nothing to do. Even eating seemed like a chore compared to the grand scale of things such as figuring out who they were – who they really were, and why they warranted capture like this.

Even if their stay right now was not as bad, there was nothing that could hold them back in terms of what they could do to them.

She continued eating, only because she felt like she was forced to, under the scornful gaze of eyes immediately around her, and the digital through the invisible cameras. She showed cooperation out of cooperation sake: compliance to ensure not safety, but avoiding unnecessary harm.

To be frank, she wasn't even sure if the people she's come to know here are entirely trustworthy. There was a lot more to these people that meets the eye. But to keep her guard up the entire time would be unhealthy and impractical. Not to mention, it's groundless to make the grandest of assumptions if the contradictions are present. Agent Dioxide, Agent Caits, and Cody… are the only people worth giving a damn in this place. Gershwin needed to make sure she got that.

Time had passed. It was time to return to their cells.

'Big day tomorrow, I guess. …I'll… see you.'

[Assistant]
Cody was content to sit in silence. For him, silence wasn't silence, he could hear the conversations around them easily, but he had grown use to the chatter of it all, and knew how to block it out now. It was nice just sitting there, with someone. He continued to stab his food, as if he needed to make sure it was secured on the fork, before eating it.

He gave Gershwin a smile when she spoke and nodded, pushing away from the table to stand.

'Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow'

He stayed where he was a moment, looking about the room, taking in the different shades of light. Light had its own spectrum to Cody. After a moment, he gave a sigh and started back to his cell before he could be escorted there.

He laid out on the bed provided, and closed his eyes, willing himself to drift away into sleep.

---

Cody was not sure if he slept, if he slept long or even decently, but he was aware when someone came to his cell. He rose, smoothly, and quickly went over to the hand scanner.

He laid his hand lightly on it, and beneath his palm, light glowed, copying the pattern of the last successful scan out, and in a few seconds, the scanner flashed green and the door opened.

Cody stood, as the footsteps stopped, and smiled almost shyly.

'Im sorry, Agent Caits, I just had to see if that worked

---

Agent Caits stared at Cody, who appeared pleased with himself, despite appearing shy at the same time. He had just opened his cell. Her mind flicked through what this meant. Cody could, essentially, escape through any scanner. That meant they couldn't not take their eyes off him.

Well that would be Big Boss's Job. And she wished him well with that little headache, of organizing more people to do so. It pleased her slightly, that. Cody behaved as she escorted him to further testing. She took a moment to speak with the researchers, mentioning the scanner problem as Cody settled himself happily in a chair, appearing at ease with the fact he was being tested.

---

---

[User]
Gershwin awoke to the sound of Cody's voice just faintly audible through the hard metal walls of their cells. It was early in the morning, and in the relative silence and desolation of the empty hallways, everything was louder than it was. Her sleep went unperturbed, and it was comforting that she did not wake to any of her nightmares – a moment of temporary solitude and dignity; she knew the dreams will come back. She did not look forward to them.

She waited for Agent Dioxide to open the door for her. He did not keep her waiting any longer than necessary. The two met under the doorway, and both watched the looks of Cody and Agent Caits – a concerned look on the latter, and the former donning an unreadable expression.

---

In Big Boss' Office

Date and Time: 10/03/2016 – 0800

Big Boss understood that there was only so much that could be understood with blood of Subject 29 and Subject 30 – history and data analyses of previous Subjects confirmed this. It was time to move on to the next stage: to study the manifestation and processes of their abilities, they have to be activated. In other words, stimulation of a considerable kind has to be given. Live field tests, power displays, and  'motivation'


[System]
AKA:
Age: 19
Race: Elg'Cahl
Appearance: Fairly standard for a Elg'Cahl, with bright green eyes and rusty red fur. Stands at 3'8"
Faction: Marauder
Role in Team?: Engineer, fighter

Hider cus this blew up real fast.

Bio: Taken from her homeworld by a group of pirates who had intended to use her as fighting slave, it became quickly apparent that she wasn't going to be doing their dirty work by force. After several disastrous attempts, the Captain of the crew opted to offer her a place on the crew itself, her fighting abilities in exchange for a share of the spoils. The promise of violence and being free of the small room she had been contained to made her quickly accept, and she soon adapted to their lifestyle. Shyr's curios mind eventually led her to begin pulling things apart to see what was inside and how it worked, starting small on things like laser weapons and slowly got bigger, up to computers, generators and even the engines of captured ships.

 The pirate gangs success ended half a year later when they were attacking a ship and a Galactic Security forces arrived, causing them to immediately surrender as they knew they were outmatched. The crew was quickly sentenced for their crimes, but Shyr was a difficult case. While it was undeniable that she had helped the pirates, she did so without knowledge of the laws or even the Galactic Committee, being kidnapped herself. Eventually it was decided that she would be returned to her homeworld, but this idea was met with heavy resistance from her as she was adamant about remaining in space, wanting to explore and discover all the new things in the vast darkness. They tried to argue her out of it, but bringing up that the only place that might fit for an Elg'Cahl would be in the Expedition Force was counter productive as she loved the thought of a group dedicated to exploring the unknown with a high level of danger. So after a short three month course on mechanics and engineering (so she actually knew what she was tinkering with) she was shipped off to to the Monroe as their 'engineer'.

Personality: Shyr is a surprisingly happy and upbeat individual, curios about both people and things around her. She loves to find new things, but above all else the one thing that makes her the happiest is the thrill of a challenge, especially if violence is involved. She is a very fast learner, notable with how fast she picked up on advanced engineering.

Weapon(s): Combat shotgun, tooth and claw
Star-fighter?: N/A
Family/Relationship?: N/A
Other: Keeps a flask of toxic liquid on her at all times, made from metals from her homeworld. In combat she prefers close quarters, taking a liking to shotguns in particular.

[User]
ching...chi-CHING-K!

"I am sorry, Sevanti'Trei...We...We don't typically tailor that to your size. Running the loom, alone-" the human tailor protested to their customer's request for a custom coat, short as they were. The small figure, on the other hand, had distracted themselves with a pair of spurs, accenting their impatience by stopping the spin of the stars by skipping them against each other before setting the adornments back on the shelf and turning to face the woman.
A black, red and white plaid scarf covered over their nose where an eyepatch shielded one eye, yet complimented their other dully glowing amber iris that constricted to sharpen their slit pupil. After a moment of tense silence directed to effectively cut her off, they lifted a hand to tip their black news-boy hat down to shade their piercing expression. "Triple...ehn I say zeis every time-" began the small figure known to the woman as 'Sevanti'Trei' due to a miscommunication after their accent was considered. '73', or 'Kaite', was a paying customer even since their first stop at port where the proprietor merely didn't know what she was seeing when the Aylv had walked in.

"-Stop that...you were nice enough to at least try not to shut me down by showing your face, this time. You have no idea what trouble you brought me" The woman replied in a hushed hiss, rightfully upset over the incident that almost ended in half of her shop being dismantled in the course of the fight.

"I do not, nor do I care! Take my money, provide me my vears, or I call my debt ehn take my money elsevher!" Kaite growled with a stomp to accent the final word, turning the heads of a few patrons from the small outburst before going back to their business. Bound by honor to make right his very existence that contributed to a display being destroyed after some errant 'do-gooder' had a nasty fall through the glass and ruined a good portion of the carpet and select wears with his blood.

---------

The bell chimed behind Kaite as the woman posted a sign on the window that read 'no pets allowed'. Back out in the market strip, he wandered off in the general direction of the hangar. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of the ratty denim jacket he cleaned up after shamelessly peeling it from an eviscerated kid around when he started, he figured it would have to do for the time being. Slim jeans, a simple black shirt and 1.5-inch flat-heel'd boots would have to do, completing the ensemble which made the security officer look like little more than some impoverished youth.
He could nearly taste that pea coat, but hadn't the slightest clue where the next quality human outfitters was, let alone one that would serve him. Kaite's imagination painted all such shop owners in the same light.

They talk, right? I mean, they all have basically the same profession. Why would any of them be unaware...
Thinking about it made a weight sink through my heart at the idea of not getting what I wanted, as simple as it was, and for reasons I was not even responsible for! It was like the man had never seen a pair of ears before! Or...or that he had and they murdered his family? Can ears be people? Are some people ears!?

With such consideration, Kaite's wanderings had lead him from the honeycomb'd section of The Spire which held various financial and commodity markets into its neighboring food district. Swiftly, his weight transitioned from a sense of loss in his heart to an emptiness in his stomach. All of the walking around and 'shopping' reminded him of how he had a change of heart about spending the second day, as well, in The Monroe. In his haste to re-explore and take in the rich but overwhelming culture of the vast quantities of mingling species, he skipped what the schedule on his HUD read as 'breakfast and lunch' with a frown-y face next to it.
The notifications also listed a Committee ID tag registering 'Head Human Representative Gary Rivers' as a guest on board The Monroe. It was certainly an opportunity that Kaite saw to provide obligatory backup for Sir Raymond Chase, since 'guests' were a rare and often unwelcome occurrence...as far as Kaite knew, since he had never had to initiate an intruder lockdown.

Still, the appearance of a foreign entity in what was now his home made Kaite wonder when the alleged new recruits would be making their arrival. Certainly it would only be a matter of time. As unprofessional as it would be for him not to be there, the allure of scents called like siren songs to every booth and establishment he passed by. Finally, it was too much and the fake Aylv figured he could get away with splurging what was otherwise going towards a dignified coat to instead experiment.
A shallow stand held a row of innocent seats where someone appeared to be sitting by the appendages that hinted to a mode of transportation hanging down from their spot.

Kaite stepped in after taking a moment to compose himself for his most pleasant "Good afternoo-"

"BBRRAAUGHHRGH!!!" Roared the creature behind the counter whose from behind the counter draped over onto the seat that he had thought was a patron. A 'spout' from the beast lazily belched into a vat a skeleton of-

-------

Kaite stepped through the sliding doors that closed behind him, emerging into the hangars and simply standing still for a moment. After shuddering once, he groaned while trudging back to the ship, having had his fill of culture for a while. With his steps, he rubbed his face and slipped past dock workers to the sound of their footsteps for reference before colliding into one who seemed to having nothing better to do than stand around.
"Woah! Hey, kid. Whacha doin around here? It's dangerous!" they chirped in a tone that one would talk down to a child who wandered into somewhere they shouldn't be, which was an accurate assessment of how they saw the incognito Kaite. "I vehrk here...?" Kaite replied, lifting his free eyebrow in disinterest before making to step past them to approach The Monroe's gangplank, which the worker mirrored to insistently block his path. "Look...eehhh..." the man stifled, unsure how to address Kaite who narrowed their eye before the worker turned their head and lifted their eyebrows in a shot-in-the-dark way of apollogetically guessing, "...miss?"

"Yeh, vee ahr done here" Kaite spat with annoyance, pushing past them and having his arm caught. "Kid! They...They have rats, giant, vicious ones! Where are your parents?" The man desperately said, though gaining confidence as he asked about his parents.

Kaite froze, not out of shock but curiosity how far from The Monroe that his jurisdiction extended. Deciding it was best to simply test such fences, he slid his free arm against his sleeve to lace the man's fingers. In the same motion, Kaite leaned back and hooked out the back of their knee to trip them, but used his weight to gently ease them to the ground rather than dropping them to the steel floors. Stepping over the man, Kaite wrenched his hand free by breaking the gate of their grip.
After a few steps, he turned back to bark, "Vith all luck, DEAD!" before pulling off his hat and letting his ears stretch, "Ehn I am zeht rat!" before quickly stuffing the hat back on and continuing making his way to the gangplank.

[Assistant]
Shyr made her way through the station, eyes wide and a smile on her face as she looked around. This place was simply MASSIVE, and full to the brim with new things. She had only arrived a little over an hour ago at which point her 'guide' had informed her that it had been decided that she would be assigned to the ship called Monroe before leading her off, speaking of the criminal crew with a disgusted tone to his voice. After a few minutes of listening to him ramble on, she decided to find her own way and wandered off as he continued on without even realizing his charge was no longer there.

As she made her was around the station she gathered a lot of curios and confused looks, but by now they were expected. After all, she doubted any of them had ever even seen an Elg'Cahl before, let alone one that was wearing an oversized zippered black leather jacket that went down to her knees and a duffle bag that was almost just large as her torso. While her own kind never bothered with this clothing crap due to their fur, the other races seemed to be obsessed with the things. The only reason she was wearing this stupid thing was because they were so insistent, so she grabbed the first thing that was large enough for her wide shoulders and called it a day.

Eventually she managed to burn through her wanderlust and decided to ask around for directions to the hangars. It didn't take long for her to find someone that gave her some pretty detailed directions, so she eventually found herself walking between large containers and various ships. She threw a curious glance at every ship she went past, wondering if the next one would be the Monroe. After a fair amount of walking, she finally spotted it. A smile spread across her face as she beheld her new home, nice, big and heavily armed for combat. These last few months had been certainly interesting, but without that extra spark of violence it was simply not complete. With her arrival at the Explorers ship, however, she hoped that would be changing real soon as she took off at a quick pace to the Monroe.

[User]
Enter the Dragon

Monroe...Monroe.. A hulking figure muttered as it walked down the station. Its crocodilian eyes looking around, lost. The creature in question was massive, its form monstrous. His appearance alone caused quiet a stir with the bystanders. Some trying to get away from the beast's path, others staring in curiosity or scowling in discrimination. What was even more bizarre was the gear the bipedal lizard was carrying. In its left hand, the Gorgas was dragging a large primitive metal sword, the craftsmanship of which seemed rather poor and dull. On his left hand was a stone and metal made shield, and a piece of paper that said 'Monroe Ship' in black ink. The beast wore no clothes, save a primitive waist-cloth made of earthen materials and leather.

Jackal, who was still wandering the station trying to find the designated ship, spotted a strange creature and some other alien converse, picking up the word Monroe. Watching the incredibly small figure leave, Jackal followed, but at a good amount of distance. Self aware of his own size. After some distance, when the figure he followed stopped at a ship, his eyes followed. The Gorgas stared up at the ship before beginning to make his way over. He stopped directly behind the incredibly small stranger, taking a few moments to find his words. "You are new recruit too?" A brute voice came from the beast's lips, unsurprisingly. His accent and poor English made it clear that it wasn't his first language.
Avana

[Assistant]
Shyr was just about to head into the ship when a deep voice rumbled out from behind her. One of her ears flicked around for a moment before she turned, promptly coming face-to-waistcloth. She blinked a few times before she shifted her gaze up, going past the scaled belly, large torso and wide shoulders before reaching his draconic face. After a moment she dropped her eyes back to his waist.

"You get to walk around with just that on but I have to wear this stupid thing!? Bullshit!" She exclaimed with a small flail of her arms. After that she looked back up to his face.

"I bet it's because you're tall. But anyway, if you on the Monroe, then yah I'm a recruit too. Just got here too so I have no idea who I'm supposed to talk to." She replied to the rather large individual as she motioned to the ship behind her. While she herself had an accent, she was rather fluent in the language as she had been getting used to it ever since she first joined in with the pirates.


[System]
* Universe: Saints Row franchise
* Appearance:
* Personality:
As second-in-command of the Third Street Saints, Johny Gat has a talent for mayhem. He's in some ways a good person at heart, trying in his own way to make the world a better place, but his methods are.... questionable. A hard upbringing has given him a casual, comedic attitude towards death. Despite this he's loyal to those that befriend him, and will happily lay his life down for those who manage to earn the title of 'friend'.
* Powers/Skills:

[The Badass Factor]
Like many of the Third Street Saints, Gat seems to be supernaturally badass. He regularly achieves feats that seemingly defy the laws of physics, can fistfight his way through an army of swat officers and can survive bullets to the face. He flips and kicks around and ignores the limits commonly applied to humans. While he may not be supernaturally strong or fast, his seemingly supernatural knack for achieving the impossible makes him a formidable combatant indeed. But do not confuse this for immortality, as enough opponents or a sufficiently strong enemy can still kill him. But don't expect him to go down easy.

[Hammerspace]
As if it were normal Gat can carry an absurd amount of firepower on his person. While he is unable to spontaneously generate guns he can carry a lot of them, and switch between them with ease. He may rapidly switch from a rocket launcher to a machinegun, or an arm-mounted laser canon, or his signature dual Shepherd handguns. His ability to carry such ludicrous amounts of firepower assist him in his various explosive stunts and escapades.

[The Gang]
Along with Gat come a group of 'homies'. While he didn't manage to bring along any named members of the Third Street Saints he does still have the assistance of his mob of nameless followers. They can bring him vehicles which seemingly appear out of thin air, show up to assist in fights (albeit in relatively low numbers), and occasionally just walk around the city. While certainly useful they lack Gat's 'awesome factor', and can be defeated with ease in combat by most.
* Brief Bio:
Growing up on Saints Row, Gat was constantly surrounded by gang wars. Realising that the only way to bring any peace to Stillwater was by wiping out the competing gangs, he joined the Third Street Saints. From there he took the fight to his enemies, wiping out the Rollerz, the Ronin, and later the Syndicate. This version of Johny was never abducted by Zinyak, and continued to fight alongside the Saints as they took on Philipe, Killbane, and later the STAG initiative. He helped the Saints grow into one of the most influential pop culture icons in the world, as well as the undisputed masters of both Steelport and Stillwater. From clones to robots to hackers to zombies, nobody could stand in his way. But even as Boss was saving the world by dismantling a nuclear missile Johny was drawn into this strange world, seperated from the rest of the gang. With only his homies and his guns as company, he's set to make it big here as well.
* Equipment:
A ridiculous quantity of guns. In addition to your standard arsenal of machine guns, smgs, handguns and sniper rifles he also possesses some advanced tech taken from the STAG initiative. This includes prototype laser weaponry, a device that takes control of vehicles at range, and a set of EMP shock bombs. He also has access to a variety of vehicles, ranging from tanks to planes to jets.
* Others: slightly alternate Gat because I didn't want to use Boss.

[User]
Shurelia

The Reyvatial held back a sigh as things did not seem to de-escalate at all, with Scaramouche getting involved and both parties ignoring her query. Though that was generally answered well enough by the ongoing conversation. So the girl with the spear had taken some food without paying for it, and the store owner was taking offense at that. It would have been an easy enough problem to solve back at Platina, but not here. Not when she didn't have her Hymnos and the girl had a very large weapon that could be used against her. She couldn't fight it out physically.

Fortunately she didn't have to as someone else made their presence known, interrupting the fight. She was an interesting individual, with two swords and horns as well. Shurelia was left to wonder if those were real or artificial, though they had to be fake, right? She just couldn't see what purpose those would serve, Or maybe she was like the Teru. It was a possibility.

Still, this person identified by the shop owner seemed to have more information than anyone else there, so Shurelia took a step forward before nodding. "Hello, I am Lady Shurelia. Since this seems to be a situation you have had experience with, could you inform us as to where we are, and what you mean by 'Champions'?" It did not take a genius to figure out that this lady was actually a local, so if they could not get an answer from her then they would be fresh out of luck.

@Raptra@Lmpkio@Raineh Daze@ACHTUNG@Tachi@Rin

[Assistant]
Shirai Kuroko

Things here were simply beginning to get out of hand. It was good that Onee-sama had held back from assaulting complete strangers, yet that was only because other people were getting involved... though Kuroko could agree that the girl shouldn't be taking Takoyaki like that. Yet a robot was picking her up? Robots simply weren't advanced enough to operate autonomously like that! Now there was a new woman here, going on about Champions for some reason and with antiquated weapons...

The horns, at least, could be pinned as some sort of genetic abnormality. Possible but extremely unlikely, though even someone as rational as Kuroko fancied herself was being pushed to maintain any sort of logical explanation for the absurdity here. A task that only got harder with the unmistakeable sound of armoured feet.

How could someone be that big?

---

Reinhardt Wilhelm and Ana Amari

Kino wasn't the only one laughing at the motorcycle's odd comment, the boisterous German joining in as well as he scooped up his helmet. With no leads to follow--and one small girl alone in a strange world--he trudged along behind her, musing as he went. "Don't you find it strange that something seems to be translating for us?"

After all, it was clear that there was a translation going on. He was hearing German from the child--but as normal, speaking English to communicate with Ana. No doubt the sniper was hearing it in Arabic and the child in whatever their native tongue happened to be.

"This is something I haven't seen before, the sniper agreed, eye scanning over the crowd they were approaching. It seemed like a normal group for the most part, with a token omnic represented. But the one Japanese-seeming lady with the horns wasn't a normal thing... unethical experimentation or something natural but exceedingly rare?

"Champions? I love the sound of that!"

If there was one thing Ana could trust to never change about Reinhardt, even more than his principles, it was that standing next to him for a long period of time was a fast route to a headache.

[User]
Rex Salazar
The people at the stand either seemed just as lost and confused as Rex was, or were too occupied with other more pressing matters to notice him. He stood where he was and continued to assess the situation, pondering over his earlier observation of the different individuals' wide diversity in equipment and dress styles. He was used to seeing people who didn't exactly look human, though. Some of them were even his friends. It looked like he was still on Earth, but he could not recall ever being at where he currently was. Could it be that they were on 'another Earth'?

A parallel universe! That was highly likely, and would explain how all these people looked so different from one another. He remembered witnessing a crossover from another universe once before. That was when he met that kid in the green jacket with that weird monster watch. Rex wondered if he had gotten thrown into this place too. Well, all these other people seem to have been anyway, or at least most of them.

His attention then shifted to a woman in traditional Japanese clothing who had just arrived. He immediately focused on her horns, his first thought being 'She's an EVO!', but then recalled how unsure he was of the current place, time, company, and... everything, really. This woman spoke as if she knew what was going on, and as some of the other individuals began asking about things he was sure everyone else wanted to know, Rex decided to carefully listen in, should she be responding anytime soon.

@Lmpkio @Raineh Daze @Flamelord @ACHTUNG @Tachi @Afro Samurai @VitaVitaAR @Rin

[Assistant]
— Square —

The Imass gazed around the square in front of him. The sheer variety of individuals dwarfed anything in his vast experience. With little exception it seemed that every person was from a vastly different culture, every one unfamiliar to him.

He was aware of the food, but that was almost not worth noticing. What did catch his attention was the mentioning of Champions.

"Is this a convergence? Power draws power. I fear that we might all have parts to play in the near future."

He mused to himself before turning to the trio he had found himself with. He knew little about any of the three.

"I think we might learn something about why we have been drawn here if we knew more of eachother. "

Daze@VitaVitaAR

[User]
In his years as a gangster, Gat had seen some seriously weird shit. Giant cloned killing machines, mass-produced by a rich french man to conquer a small city. A virtual reality where he took the form of a toilet seat with a laser canon. Breaking onto the movie set of that damn vampire show to kidnap the lead character... and that was just in the last couple of months. But, of all the ridiculous things he had seen, of all the ludicrous actions he had performed, surely this trumped them all.

As if he had walked into some kind of circus, a stunning assortment of weirdos and freaks appeared to have gathered around what appeared to be a food stand. A strange-looking guy kitted out in LARP gear with a serious skin condition. Dude looked almost dead. There was a strange lady with horns, and what looked like a couple of schoolgirls. A real bunch of weirdos, that was to be sure. And the dialogue.... damn, were they rehearsing the script of some b-movie or something? Speaking all ominous like that. Shit, what if he'd been transported into some kind of b-movie? Ugh, talk about a fate worse than death.

Nonetheless, it was true that Gat was now in a world he didn't quite understand. He'd been pulled from Steelport into this place through some strange means, and now he was surrounded by odd sights and people. Like a bad dream, if only this wasn't so real. Sighing, he walked towards the grouping, twirling his Shepherd handgun as he walked. Even if they were just a group of weirdos, people who dressed like that usually had something to say. Maybe they worked for some eccentric gang, or they were just crazy people. Either way, they seemed like the people to talk to in this place, if he wanted to get back home any time soon. Absentmindedly he wondered how long it would take to get home, even if he managed to get a hold of a jet in a place like this. Didn't look like anywhere he'd ever been before, so probably quite a while.

'Hey, hey, hey! I was just passing by, and it seems I'm a little bit lost." Smiling slightly he tossed his gun into the air before catching it again, although he refrained from pointing it at anyone yet. "So could any of you strange fellows point me towards Steelport? And maybe tell me how in the f*ck I got here?"


[System]
Age:22

Gender: Female

Race: Nem

Appearance:

(As above, but with rounder ears! Though her hair is naturally black, she dyes it pink to stand out. A merchant's most powerful weapon is being remembered. In addition, on the occasion she needs to go outside during the day, she wears a cute, floral, wide-brimmed hat)

Personality: Sweet, caring, and good-natured on the outside. Calculating and selfish on the inside. Lirrah does what she can for the people she likes, and everyone else is scarcely a concern of hers. She has no particular investment in Velt or Ithillin aside from the knowledge that brewing hostilities are a good business venture. It would be easy to label her as another amoral war profiteer, but it's hard to make the title stick when she's personally serving hot meals to the folks on the borderlands (for a fee, of course). In any case, she is outgoing, personable, and really lays on the cute. Cute is good for business.

Brief Backstory: Born into a humble family of sweets-makers with three older brothers and three older sisters, it would be no exaggeration to say that Lirrah was the baby of the family. If she wanted acknowledgement, she had to work for it. Whether she had to lie or exaggerate or even shout, she was always yapping in order to get attention.

From a young age, this served her well, though it got on her siblings' nerves. She learned how to cook, and was quite talented, but her gift of gab often had her strutting the sand to entice customers instead. She and her family's trade became so well-known through her raw, extroverted moxie that she was considered by many to be the unofficial mascot of the store. She and her family's brand of sweets soon became inseparable.

For most attention-seekers, this amount of notoriety would be enough to live a lifetime, but Lirrah wanted more. Her cries yearned to reach more ears. She wanted to say something that the entire known world would one day need to listen to.

On her sixteenth birthday, people came from settlements all around to celebrate her. It was at this moment that she decided to cash in all the affection and goodwill she had earned from a lifetime of honeyed words as sweet as the ripest melon juice. She wanted to leave the village, and travel north. For that purpose, she collected many investors and partners who would fund and stock her caravan, with no proof of success other than the borderline disgusting amount of aplomb with which she conducted herself.

Everyone likes sweets.

Her network was enormous. The affection that everyone had for her was overflowing. And flow it did, into coins and goods and equipment that would enable her desire to reach north. As far northward as she could go… so far, and so high, that even she could look down at the world despite her people's relatively short stature.

It took a while, of course, to get everything ready. But within a few years, funds and equipment in hand, she reached Velt. This was only going to be her first stop, but it would be a profitable one. She had weapons to feed into the growing fires of hostility, and Nem glasswork and art pieces to appeal to nobles who wanted to show off how world-wise they were and who had more money than sense. With her charms, and the situation to her advantage, it was almost impossible to fail. She made a killing when she finally arrived and, happy with the numbers, decided to move onto Ithillin. What happened when everything boiled over wasn't important. What was important was making her money off both sides and getting out, continuing to reach ever northward.

The situation was not exactly as it was described to her.

The conflict was practically already happening, and the borderlands were almost a war zone, with skirmishes and bandits and monsters out in force. Lirrah learned this when she picked the most reasonably under-staffed point on the border to make her trip, and found her caravan surrounded by marauders. Though she could shoot a bow (her home village was small enough that everyone needed to learn), she was not a real fighter. Her hired muscle fell quickly to the deluge of bandits, and she was soon surrounded.

She didn't want her ambition to end there, but what could she do?

Then, the Lions roared.

Routed efficiently to the last, the bandits went from an overwhelming bellow to a simpering swan song within moments. Lirrah explained the situation to the Lions, embellishing to make herself seem less opportunistic, and she soon learned that things were more dire between the two nations than she had imagined.

A caravan cannot move north through a river of blood. Even avoiding everything else, the upcoming conflict could capture her supply chain and leave her stranded. There was nothing else for it. Thinking quickly, she talked her way into a mutually beneficial exclusivity contract with Velt during wartime. Her supply chain would be useful, and she could set up shop personally among the group that had helped her. Until the war was over, she would need to hold out. She didn't want to pick sides initially, but as it turned out, a side picked her.

Equipment: A diverse array of highly saleable wares! Within reason, of course. The art objects get sold far before they reach Lirrah, because warriors on the frontline have little need for such things. If there's something specific a soldier wants, however, she can usually get it in a week or so depending on rarity. She stocks generic weapons, along with some more interesting exotic weapons from her homeland. Nem bows, especially, are in high demand. With the ever-present threat of skirmishes, she stocks a ridiculous amount of healing potions. More high-end wares include enchanted rings and brooches, with a variety of protective effects, and even magical weapons. Nem alcohol is, to most, a novelty, but she gets enough requests from those who have taken to it to keep it in stock (and to drink herself).

When out and about, she carries a bow and a good supply of potions, as well as a few explosive flasks and acid bombs. She has an enchanted hat that cools her and gives her a lot of shade, though seeing beyond the immediate bound of that shade is still difficult as a Nem. Mostly it makes travel during daytime much more comfortable.

Skills:

Diplomancer: Lirrah is very good at talking to people, and even getting them to agree to things they normally wouldn't. She's that charming! She's a natural in any environment, from swanky party to seedy bar. She can lie as naturally as she breathes, and can make herself the center of attention with little effort. Conversely, during a combat encounter, she can turn up her cute and helpless act such that most reasonable enemies wouldn't target her unless they had no other choice. Very helpful as a merchant!

Swift: Lirrah is dexterous, agile, and quick on her feet. On the rare occasion she can't talk or act her way out of danger, she can usually escape it. Her sight, mainly in the dark, is immensely keen. She's good with a bow, though aiming far away is difficult for her during the day. She's practiced enough with the sling to fling dangerous flasks many feet away. Fast hands are useful in the kitchen, and she's also quite good at sewing and knitting.

Gourmand: Lirrah is an excellent cook. She's best at dishes from her home country, but picks up new cuisine quickly as well. Sometimes, the difference between a dead soldier and a living one is a happily-fed belly. She's especially gifted at desserts, which she can make at the level of a genius patissier. She can only make so many to her exacting standards day to day, that they run out quickly. People have gotten into fistfights over the strawberry shortcake!

[User]
"What do we do with a drunken soldier..."

The mercenary Urden was currently half humming, half singing an old working song his previous mercenary company favored when doing menial work like weapon's maintenance, setting up camp, packing up camp and other such idle behavior mostly spent just passing time. Sure enough, having spent the morning counting and verifying that his coin was both good, and in the proper amounts, for this pay cycle, he had turned to preparing for the upcoming conflict. In time with the hummed, occasionally sung, working tune, he ran a whetstone along the main blade of his two handed axe, honing its edge to as keen as he could given the circumstances. It was no blacksmith's work or anything of the sort, but it wasn't like they could expect a forge to follow this warband around so readily. The merchant who had seen fit to attach herself to the band was hawking goods, food with a voucher for pastries after words. He'd already eaten, or the offer might have been more tmepting.

"...Dock his pay with extra duty, dock his pay with extra duty..."

Urden appeared to be in a pleasant mood as he worked away, hefting the axe with practiced ease, examining the main cutting edge of the blade. Setting aside the sharpening stone, he tugged a loose hair out and let it fall on the axe blade, splitting neatly with little resistance. Nodding in approval, mostly to himself, he turned the axe over and started working on the opposite end, the spike that would be far more suited to punching through armor than it was for hacking away like the main axe head would be. So he would work, the sound of the whetstone running over well used, but well kept, steel. Nothing about the weapon was for show, the haft sturdy enough to catch incoming strikes, both ends of the axe head having their own uses. Even the other end had a sturdy steel cap on it to make for a nasty surprise for anyone who thought they were safe from a surprise strike while the obviously dangerous end was away from them. Just one of many different tricks he kept in mind when dealing with your average trouble.

"...Twenty strokes of the captains whip, twenty strokes of the captain's whip..."

Nothing about what Urden had heard so far sounded like bandits to him. They struck fast, sure, but looked for coin and valuables, maybe some living hostages to sell back later or to prevent immediate attacks on them for fear of losing even more innocent lives. Near as he'd heard from around camp, it was anything that wasn't nailed down. If you could pry it up, it didn't count either, apparently. That...that was odd. Corpses weren't worth a lick on their own, and most bounties per head only needed proof. Ears, fingers, things like that, grim as it was to some. Whole bodies though, that was a lot of dead weight, pun intended, to be lugging about. Something was amiss, though end of the day Urden got paid the same. Didn't matter what kind of out of their head bandits, soldiers, whatever was waiting out there for them. Nothing good steel backed by good pay couldn't sort out.

"...Early in the morning..."

[Assistant]
Gisela

With the camp bustling around her, Gisela felt that there was very little for her to do on a day-to-day basis. Any injuries that a small-sized force such as this might sustain outside of combat were a matter of minutes to address, and once that was done... well, she was a mage, and that meant a level of respected treatment, despite the lack of nobility in her treatment. Powerful mages were in high enough demand to receive consistent payment and be spared the indignities of manual labour, so long as they continued to fulfil the obligations that nobody else could.

Soldiering was seemingly boring enough even with monotonous tasks. Without... well, she couldn't even indulge in games of chance or similar. Nobody wanted to play with the odd suspicious mage, who knew what cheating might happen? None, really, since Gisela couldn't do subtle, but even she couldn't completely discount that something might go wrong. All the sides on dice might come up six... even the ones face down.

So, instead, she had summoned Krysia to have someone to talk to... and also so that the others could at least become accustomed to the towering demon, rather than thinking it was an enemy in the middle of battle.

Not that over eight feet of armoured inhuman muscle was doing her reputation much of a favour.

Who had taken an interest in the goods on sale. Which Gisela would be obliged to pay for, of course, and she gave a sigh as the demon tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"But what if I only want the sweet pastry? The rest doesn't interest me," the red-skinned demon wondered allowed, voice surprisingly melodious--deep, for a woman, but a lot less raspy than someone with a rather loud approach to battle.

[User]
Lirrah looked up, wide-eyed, at her newest customer. Her first instinct was to run and hide, but she was stuck to the spot. As her brain processed the fact that there was, indeed, a gigantic demon woman standing in front of her, a few extra pieces of information clicked into place.

No one seemed to be panicking, at least not any more than one would panic before a confrontation. Some were maybe uncomfortable, but they weren't drawing their weapons. Searching her memory, Lirrah alighted upon a tidbit she once heard about a demon that she might see around one day. Apparently, one of their finger-wigglers could summon one, and she usually did this on the front lines. Since Lirrah tended to stay at base camp, it figured that she wouldn't have seen this woman before.

Lirrah had honestly thought it might have been a joke.

But even so, they didn't mention how damn big she was supposed to be. Ila-Nem, this demon was as tall as three of Lirrah standing on each other's shoulders! And so red!

After standing dumbfounded for almost a minute, she managed to drag herself back to reality. If she was going to go near the front lines to help, she couldn't let things like this freak her out.

But she was so big-

"Puh-puh-pweased tomeechu!" she found herself stammering like an ignoramus.

She looked around in a panic, and bolted back into her tent, quickly bringing out a few fruity pastries in her tiny, trembling arms. She was good with diplomacy, but not with bravery.

She wanted to tell the woman [on the house], but there wasn't a single bone in her body that would allow her to string those words together in that configuration. As if on instinct alone, she blurted out the inflated price she charges everyone.

"S-s-six hundred each! D-don't tell anypody I let you have some! I m-mean, i-if that's OK with you!"


[System]
Age: 14
Appearance: Kizuna stands at just under 145 centimeters, and is of an average build. When not in her magical girl form, her eyes are brown and her hair is black.
Abilities/Equipment: Primarily uses a pair of shotguns that fire rounds imbued with magical energy; she also uses magically charged hand grenades, which can switch between several different modes with a mental command.
Personality: Kizuna is normally a reserved, quiet girl who does her best to be polite to others. However, she has certain quirks and hobbies that others would politely call "odd", especially for a girl. As such she doesn't have very many friends, save for a few she's met online and at several events. As a Magical Girl, her personality undergoes a change, especially when in the middle of a fight. If anything, despite the fact that her enemies could very well kill her or someone around her, Kizuna treats combat like a game. While usually a graceful loser, if one manages to push her buttons just right, she could start directing her violence at them instead of an opponent.
Backstory: The youngest of two children in her family, Kizuna led a relatively unremarkable childhood. She and her brother went to school, their parents worked, and it all seemed to be a normal, ideal life. However things began changing around the time her brother entered high school. In the span of a few weeks, her brother seemed to excel in everything he participated in. Sports, school, clubs. Their parents showered him with praise and over time rarely acknowledged any of Kizuna's accomplishments. Unable to get the same attention from her parents, Kizuna retreated into herself.
She developed hobbies that she knew weren't normal for girls her age: airsoft, dart tag, first-person shooter video games. Despite seeing this her parents didn't seem to care. But to her something felt… off. She had a dream one night. Someone… or something… told her that her brother had died, and some kind of demon had taken his body. Kizuna demanded proof.
And once she woke up, she got it.
When Kizuna looked at her brother something was wrong. His eyes were a different color. His voice was deeper as well. Something was very wrong.
"That thing is no longer your brother. It possessed his body, devoured his soul, and it's now feeding off of your parents' emotions."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"Your parents stopped paying attention to you when your brother got into high school. He became an ace in everything. Your brother died one night, and something took his place to drain your parents' emotions like a parasite. If the demon inside your brother's body continues, they'll die."
"And if it stops feeding on their emotions?"
"They'll go back to normal. They'll treat you like their daughter again."
". . .
"Tell me what I have to do to make that happen."
Notes: - Kizuna hates spiders, and used to be afraid of them when she was younger.
- There are several other Magical Girls in the city, and after Kizuna let her temper get the better of her, it's very rare that any of them are willing to work with her unless absolutely necessary.
- Kizuna has a very pragmatic fighting style, partly due to the fact that the majority of her magical power is invested in her weapons.
- Has a special finisher attack, but Kizuna has rarely used it, as she usually enjoys a good firefight.

[User]
Population: 1.5 million

---

It had been a quiet night for the girl. A few muggings, a stabbing, breaking and entering. But that was none of Kizuna's concern. According to her companion, none were connected to demonic activity. And the demons themselves had done nothing more than siphon off negative emotions from the homeless, and people in crowded areas.

I don't like it, Kizuna's companion's voice echoed in her mind. On a full moon like this, the stronger ones should be out. Kizuna glanced at her companion, sitting on the rooftop beside her.

"Yeah, I know, Chi," the girl agreed. She took a bite from the snack she'd bought at a convenience store earlier. "Maybe they migrated to one of the neighboring territories. I almost feel bad for the bastards if they did. I enjoy a good fight, but I don't toy with my enemies like that Sadako chick."

Chi blinked, his frilled ears twitching. I think I know why now, he said. There's another magical girl in your territory to the north of here.

"Sadako?" Kizuna knew that the other girl had a bad habit of ignoring territory boundaries during her hunts.

No. Whoever this is has a different magical signature. And the signal is weaker as well. Kizuna gave a quiet sigh of relief. The last time she and Sadako had fought, the only reason she'd got out alive was because the neighboring territory-holders were just as tired of Sadako hunting where she shouldn't have and backed her up.

"Alright." Kizuna stood up. "Hopefully we're just dealing with a lost puppy who wandered too far from her yard. As slow as it's been tonight, I don't want to waste any magic in a fight."

But you always get so excited in a fight, Chi playfully whined. Your emotions taste better.

"Would you rather have a few tasty meals, or a guaranteed supply?"

Why not both?

"Shut it, you dumb lizard. Just show me the way to our intruder."

[Assistant]
It was foreboding as one could expect, the location of the little blip on the system. While Kizuna's outpost had been perched higher up on the city-scape, this creature hid, stationary, below the city. The ever-evolving subway lines, in their efficiency, left a few discontinued stations, abandoned. The trains still ran through, but never stopped. It was in such a station that young Mika stood very expectantly. Hands clasped in front, back straight. Unremarkable and plain, what must have been a boys hoodie draped over her petite form in navy waves.

'What are you expecting her to say? She might not take kindly to you even being here!'

The soft, open smile Mika had been holding onto crippled immediately. Her brows drew down, narrowing her gaze at this unwelcome nagging. It was always unwelcome, it had been since she'd chosen the life of a magical girl. Her lips were whetted and parted to produce the subtlest of whispers.

"I'm not that fresh. I know how this could end."

'It's a bit bold, though? Just waltzing into another girl's territory, you're asking for trouble… you don't even have an advantage, she's ranged, like you.'

"Mm, you did give me lacklustre magic."

'I didn't choo—'

"It doesn't matter. I don't need blaster-beams, cannons or time-travel." Mika supplied, her hair whipping to the side as a train ripped through the old, musty station like a bullet. Pushing her thick, square spectacles up her nose, the mousy girl regained that smile, eyes watching the stairs expectantly. A few steps were taken towards a tiled pillar, which she pressed her back to, head hung low with her hoodie pulled up to obscure her face.

"What do you think? Do I look mysterious and cool?"

'…No.'

[User]
Kizuna made her way down to the ground, leaping from fire escapes and ledges that she could make out in the darkness. The pact she'd made with Chi had made her body faster and tougher in her magical girl form, and her reaction time had sped up as well. The side effect was that it also affected her in her normal form, to a certain extent. Chi fluttered down and lighted gently on her shoulder. So, will you shoot first and ask questions later?

"Only if she shoots first," answered Kizuna. "Is the signature one you're familiar with?"

It's not any of the neighbors. A clear nictitating membrane flicked over the Fae's multifaceted eyes. Kizuna found that aspect of the little creature somewhat unsettling. Unlike with animals or humans, she couldn't tell what the Fae was thinking or feeling by looking into his eyes. And it doesn't seem like she's moving.

"Think she knows she's in someone else's territory?" Kizuna finished her snack and tossed the wrapper aside.

If I can detect her, her Fae can detect you. A chittering sound from a nearby alleyway caught the girl's attention. Several pairs of glowing orange eyes watched her from the darkness. Just some imps. Seems they think there's going to be a show for them to watch.

"I honestly hope we disappoint 'em."

[Assistant]
'She won't come down here, you know.'

"Yeah, I suppose it looks a little suspect."

Amidst the flickering, fluorescent lights that bathed the old station in a cold, failing light, Mika turned her gaze to the tracks for a few, brief moments. Lidded eyes regarded the stained track, poker faced. Dark, wet growth spread from one of the abyssal tunnels, black against the rust of the steel lines.

"I shouldn't be so rude, let's go see her."

Scuffed and scraped trainers lead her up the stairs to the city, as deceptively quiet as it seemed to be. What presented itself to Kizuna was plainly dressed, plainly presented, like a student returning home from some night-classes. A smiling, unremarkable girl clutching a pastel pink satchel. Unassuming, with a smile printed on her lips, they parted to speak, in a tone as though this were some pre-planned business meeting.

"Evening. I didn't want to just barge in unannounced, but… it is the quickest way to draw attention, isn't it? Ah, my manners though. You can call me Mimi. Care to walk with me?"

Her arm raised to thumb backwards, towards the now barren school grounds in the distance. It stood as a silent sentinel, ready to bustle with life in the morning, but for now, it lay at rest.

"I've recently taken over for someone. Poor girl. I'll get to the point, though. I think we'd benefit watching each other's backs around here." A bold thing to ask, and done so with a painfully blank smile, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag. Eyes drifting to the side, Mika quickly added;

"I don't mean from the demons, of course not. I'm sure you're more than able to take them down. I mean from the real dangers around here."

[User]
Kizuna drew a weapon and pointed the double-barrel at the girl. She appeared quite average, and Kizuna would have written her off as someone who was just out wandering had she not spoken. She was polite, even with a gun pointed at her. Frankly, the girl's calm demeanor was a little unnerving, but Kizuna had to give her credit for being able to maintain her composure with a weapon aimed at her head. She lowered the weapon, but didn't put it away.

"Kizuna," she introduced herself tersely. She didn't think it a good idea to give out her family name to magical girls. Never knew if they'd decide to track down her family and use them against her. "Who died? If you didn't know her name, then tell me what she looked like." Chi's body was quivering slightly. There was another Fae nearby, which settled if this Mimi was a magical girl or not.

Easy, Chi. No need to start scrapping.

[Assistant]
"You're very quick on the draw, but I can't say I blame you. I kind of like it."

Footfalls drawing to a stop, Mimi threw her own gaze over her shoulder. It had to be said, while calm, her smile had certainly been wiped away, replaced by the most subtle, neutral of frowns. Safely, it could be said that no-one liked being held at point-blank. "Hm…?" Who had died. Her head lopped to the other side in quiet deliberation, eyes scanning the rooftops of the towering buildings that stood darkly in the distance, intimidating.

"I think she had dark hair, not sure about when she was using her magic. I'd keep an eye on the news, that'll probably release a photo and name, right? All I know is that a spot freed up. When you come from a small town like me, you don't waste time scrambling to come here."

Spinning around to face Kizuna, Mimi's brows furrowed, lips tugged downwards into a much more apparent, serious scowl. Arms folded tightly across her chest.

"I have heard rumours that I can share. Apparently, she had navy hair when she used her magic, but more pressingly, we think another girl took her out. That's why I've come here, there's no point getting picked off one by one. We could work together, find out who's doing this… and if they plan to keep doing it."

One hand extended outwards, invitingly, towards the fellow magical girl.

"What do you say, Kizuna?"

[User]
Mimi's sudden change from friendly and cheerful to serious was a good change to Kizuna. Something like this was serious business after all. And even without a name, the description of the girl in question, though brief, made Kizuna sure of who it was. "She never told me her real name," Kizuna said. "She went by Karasu… as in 'crow', but most of us just called her Kara."

The next part certainly got Kizuna's attention. Skirmishes for territory in Mirai City happened more often than one would think, and it usually ended with one of the combatants getting killed. That, or the Fae they had a contract with getting killed, which meant they were as good as dead.

"Magical girls killing each other is something you hear about every once in a while," said Kizuna. "It's almost always over hunting grounds. One too many intrusions, an active push to expand one's territory, things like that. If there's a pattern to it, then it's a cause for concern.

"That said, I want facts," she continued. "Is it a push for more territory, or some girl who's decided that killing other magical girls is a better use of her powers than hunting demons? The magical girls who have been around the longest know that knowledge is a powerful tool to have. Even if the magical girls don't always talk, the Fae do." Kizuna glanced to Chi, who nodded in agreement.


[System]
My character:
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Appearance: deviantart.com/art/Contest-Prize-Hard…
Ship: i.pinimg.com/736x/0d/ba/c7/0dbac7c716…
It has 2 bedrooms, a kitchen/dining room, an engine/atlas crystal room of course, a recreation deck with a round and mostly glass roof and walls at the front, and a cargo hold at the bottom back. There is also a deck to walk outside above the recreation room. Steering can be done both from inside the recreation room and on the roof in the centre of the ship. Also, this ship's crystal works on coal or other such materials instead of the ones working on electricity in more expensive ships. As in, the crystal just sits in a large furnace and as long as you have something you can burn in there the ship can keep flying.

My guy will be a treasure hunter/scavenger from a family of treasure hunters. Both his parents used to own the ship he has now. But they managed to get enough money to buy a new one, and he got this one as a gift on his 18th birthday. At first he flew together with his parents, but eventually he started going out on his own. And now he flies on his own entirely, though he still visits his parents every now and then. Or sees them at treasure hunter/scavenger/bounty hunter hangouts at times.

Equipment:
-6 shot revolver, going more for destructive power than accuracy or range.
-Goggles to protect against the wind.
-Mechanical grappling hook that can attach and detach itself on command.
-A lead pipe for use as melee weapon - he plans to save up for a proper melee weapon.
-Gatling gun mounted on top of the deck which uses armour-shredding rounds for anti-air defence.

[User]
Just like many before it, another airship entered the port of the small outlaw town of Aersummit. This town was divided up into two areas. First there was the area on top of the sky island, about a kilometre in length and half a kilometre in width. Small houses made of wood, scrap metal and rope littered the area, creating a maze of alleys and small open areas where people met. Both ends of the island were instead occupied by larger buildings made of mostly stone and some metal. These were the most important areas as this was where trade happened. A hotel, some shops, a tavern or two, and of course the docks were found in these areas. Bounty hunters, scavengers and traders met up here to do their business. And then there was the literal underbelly. A few spots had wooden walkways going down to below the surface of the sky island. There, houses were build against and into the cliffs. Most people stayed away from this area. And it wasn't because there was nothing but the clouds below them. This was the area where the true outlaws were found. Thieves, pirates, treasure hunters, slavers, and traders that operated in the black market.

The airship that had just arrived looked rather old. It still seemed to work just fine, but it had certainly been in use for more than one generation. Most people would have probably tried to buy a new ship by now, but not the owner of this ship. After it's mooring lines had been secured by the dock workers, out stepped a younger looking man with a bright smile on his lips. A moment later a small Fennec Fox ran out as well, before quickly jumping onto the man's back and moving kind of curl around his neck. The man approached one of the dock's managers that was waiting for him at the bottom of his boarding plank. Still with the same bright smile he greeted the worker before the worker could even ask for his name. "Good afternoon sir! Jacob Welsh's the name. And this little guy is Peanut." The manager raised a brow, but only nodded in response. After writing down Jacob's name the manager finally spoke. "Welcome to Aersummit, Jacob. State your business and intended length of stay please." "Mhh..." Jacob muttered as he thought. "Well, I plan to find some work to do, and I'll probably stay until tomorrow morning, though it depends on if I can indeed find work." The manager nodded. "Very well, it's 75 dollars for the first day, and 100 dollars for each extra day." Jacob didn't even wait for the man to explain. He already reached into his pocket and took out a 50, 20 and 5 dollar bill and handed it to the man. The manager nodded, taking the money. "I see you've been here before." Jacob nodded in return. "I'm a regular, actually. But I'm used to no one remembering my face at the docks. Anyway, time's short so I'm off to find work!" The manager nodded disinterestedly as he put the money away, turning his attention back to his work again.

Jacob knew this town like the back of his pocket. It was his main base of operations outside of his airship, you could say. So he had no problem finding the tavern closest to where he was. His plan was to stay in the upper area for now since if possible he wanted to keep his work legal. But he still needed to bring food to his and his pet's plate, so if things didn't work out he would head to the lower area in the evening.

Soon he found himself stepping into a building; The trumpet bar. Apparently the name came from the previous owner's love for playing the trumpet. Though that man had passed away a few years ago. "Powell! Pour me a Brutal black will ya~" Jacob spoke as he sat down at the bar. It was basically just a strong dark beer. People in this place just liked giving drinks though sounding names to make themselves look though when ordering. "Jacob, ya sly bastard! Came to make trouble again have ya?" The barkeep replied, moving to pour the man his drink. "Hey, I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble looks for me!" Both laughed heartily. Jacob was a regular at this place. And while it was indeed true that he tended to get himself into trouble, for Powell it was just a way of greeting a friend.

[Assistant]
So… she had a destination, she had an object and she had a buyer but… she had no way to get there… A long sigh left the young girl with short blue hair as she munched away on a cracker in her hotel room. Damn, she had some high hopes in thinking she might not have to split any of this income from the job. However, it looked like that was not going to be the case.

Blinking her violet colored eyes, she stood from her bed and preceded her complete her steps to leave. A quick shower, teeth brushed and hair combed, dressed and packets into her duffle bag, the girl exited the room and proceeded towards the lobby.

Checking out of the hotel was bitter sweet. She did hate the idea of having to leave the comfortable room that had been her home for the past couple of weeks. But at the same time, she's thankful not to be spending money on a room anymore. This was Rei Carpenter and she was a little more than your average traveler.

In fact the woman carrying the duffle bag over her shoulder was really one of the last members of the LeFontaine Family. The LeFontaine family was gentleman thieves in their own right. Stealing from those who can afford to have things 'go missing' and using that money to support themselves and sometimes others was part of her family's code; however, they did have a bad habit of not including everyone in on their ideas and… some people didn't take too kindly to that. That Seth guy hated her because he got caught, which was not her fault, and now seeks vengeance against her for his time in prison. And that was her last time working with an 'upstanding citizen'. And now you know why she's at Aersummit.

Placing her free hand on her brown jean covered hip, her gaze scanned across the land. Okay, now I have to find another transportation… She thought, however a cringe moved through her body; she would have to fly to the next job and flying was something she dreaded. Taking a spot on a bench she dug through her bag until she found a pre-designed flyer, one of her many; that specifically asked for a pilot, boy it's been a while since she used this one. As much as she dreaded the idea of using this form of transportation she didn't have a choice.

Heading to the location bar, "The Trumpet Bar" She ventured inside went straight to the bulletin board. Pinning the job flyer up, she turned and walked to the bar, sitting a few spots down from Jacob and ordering herself a scotch on the rocks.

The sign read as follows –
SEEKING CAPTAIN.
Looking for be flown to and from a destination.
Cost is up for discussion; a percentage of the cut can be offered in place of standard payment but ya don't get both.
Must have able-bodied ship with a guest room, cargo bay, and be okay with some rough things.

Order a "Rocky Mountain Beer" and the bartender will point you to me.

[User]
Jacob noticed a rather peculiar woman walking in. She wasn't usually the type to come to a bar like this. And though he wasn't nearly always there, he certainly didn't recognize her. And so didn't Powell from the looks of it. Though what piqued his interest was whe nshe posted a note on the bulletin board. This bar was on the surface of the island, so no one would be stupid enough to post blatantly illegal jobs here. And the ones that were only just posted had a far higher chance to be good, or at least decent. So Jacob was quick to get up, beer still in hand, and walk over to the newly posted note.

"Captain needed...needs transport...percentage of the cut huh?" Jacob mumbled softly to himself. The man thought deeply for a few moments before turning to his furry pet. "What do you think Peanut?" The Fennec Fox chirped in response. Which was somehow enough to convince him. "All right~" He spoke, taking the notice off of the board and walking back over to the bar. As he took a large swig he sat down right next to the woman whom had just posted the note and glanced at her.

"Do give me an indication of how much I can earn with this. If I like what I hear you might have a captain for your job right away." He flashed a bright smile, though still didn't turn all the way towards the woman. Of course Jacob wanted to know at least a bit more about this job than just what was on the note. After all, there were still people who tried to sneak in dirty jobs along with the legal and grey area jobs in this place.

[Assistant]
It felt like ages until Rei's drink arrived. A long sigh left her when the sweet elixir of alcohol ran down her throat after a long drink. Work didn't sound fun but she needed to rebuild her funds as she could. Now if only she could find a captain. The last guy she worked with was nice… enough, but careless. He didn't stay put like she told him to and refused to listen to her instructions and nearly got both of them caught. Luckily, Rei was much more experienced in dealing with stupid choices than she'd like to admit and was able to get them out of the situation he got them in (not that he'd ever take responsibility for it). Now he blames her for the damage to her ship and it is all 'you owe me this' and 'you need to pay me for that'; hence her need for a new captain. And the sooner the better before the asshole finds her.

A body sat in the chair next to her, her gaze moved downwards to see that he had the flyer in his hand. Boy that was fast, luck must be on her side. Thinking that thought she gently knocked on the wood on the bar. She wasn't superstitious but she knew better to press any luck that turned its way to her. "Standard pay is 10,000. You fly, park and wait for me to come back, not even a day, than return me here. Simple as that." She said with a nod as she brought scotch to her lips and took another drink. This time she hissed a bit at cup as the ice had hit her lips and caused a chill through her body.

Placing the glass down, "5,000 when we get there; the rest when you get me back. It's a day's flight to and from. I'm willing to supply food and some utilities. Unless you take the percentage of the cut of the job; that percentage is 25% but the payout might be less than what I can offer for a standard pay which is not my fault." She turned in the chair to face him, one long jean covered leg crossed over the other as she leaned her side against the bar and propped her chin in her hand as she watched him. "You get one or the other, not both. What's your answer? If it's a no to either option please put my flyer back up." She said giving him a tender smile. Any help was better than the asshole from before and she had no reason to be rude to him.

[User]
Jacob raised a brow. At the very least this woman had done similar things in the past considering how she seemed experienced in dealing with possible employees. Which could certainly make the next part a bit of fun. "25% huh? That's too little. I don't mind taking risks from time to time, but I want 40%. Also I want a bit more details than just 'drop me off and pick me up again'." The man paused and took a long swig from his mug, glancing at the woman to see her reaction to his intentionally high demand for compensation.

Once he had swallowed he spoke more softly, not wanting the people around them to hear what he had to say next. "Also I reserve the right to quit the job at any time if it turns out whatever you plan on doing is blatantly illegal. I don't want to be banned from places like this." Law enforcement wasn't really a thing. They had a better system now. If you broke the rules, you'd get banned from one or even several islands. Which made it very hard to get by in the future. Most people wanted to avoid a fate like that, including him. Though with any law system there were grey areas of course. And those areas he didn't mind stepping in to if the job was profitable enough. And this one did sound like it could be just that.


[System]
Alias: War Wolf
Age: 329 years old
Gender: Male
Occupation: Soldier in the Brazilian Black Ops Division, 'Bastões Pretos', the "Black Bats".
Demeanor: Chico is a rough-and-tumble, aggressive, jovial individual who finds joy in fighting. He is honorable, but will sacrifice honor for pragmatism.

Basic Appearance

Hair: A cropped, dark brown military cut.
Facial Hair: A most epic goatee.
Eyes: Green.
Build: Tall, broad, heavyset, muscular.
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 220 lb.
Special Features: His goatee is so majestic, women immediately must concentrate so they do not swoon, out of the pure majesty. It is said that this is how he saved Sao Paulo from Voodoo Demon Ladies.

Combat Credentials

Combat Style: Capoeira, Savate, Muay Thai, Boxing, and of course, Brazilian Ju-Jitsu are all under his belt. He is a master of hand-to-hand fighting, with weapons or not.

-Knows mainly strike-based martial arts.
-Is proficient with many ranged weapons, from mounted vehicular weapons to bows and arrows, Chico can use every weapon he touches, due to his extensive combat experience.

Abilities: Chico is blessed. Born in 1771 to a single mother of varying repute, he has fought in every revolution, every war that Brazil has had. For unknown reasons (usually attributed to being born by an angel, the result of alchemy, and even being chosen by the Tupi gods to be an immortal warrior,) Chico does not age, and cannot be poisoned, or affected by disease. However, his body has no further resistance to weapons, even if he is slightly stronger than the average man.

(Tl;Dr):
- Can't age, be poisoned, or catch a disease.
- Is slightly stronger than the normal human, able to affect about 2x more weight.
- Is slightly faster (2x normal human), due to his muscles. His reactions have adapted to higher speeds after 260 years of fighting.
- His body, unfortunately, provides no resistance to damage. He can be killed with gunfire, a knife, or even falling.

Gear
Long-Range X40MF "Eliminator" Disruption Rifle- A lightweight, compact black rifle, the Eliminator is a weapon capable of punching through traditional battleship plate armor, passing through matter by explosively rearranging the atoms, it has an effective range of 1/2 a mile - 2 miles, although it is not recommended for engagements within the 1/2 mile due to the ordinance type, which has to have a certain time to charge, as it is unstable within the gun. It has 6 shots in any one magazine.

12mm "Atlas" Boltcannon- A large, heavy railgun that just so happens to be a sidearm as well, the Atlas pistol fires 12mm bolts at a high velocity, nearly silently. Functionally, it works the same as a normal handgun, except with less recoil and noise. It has 12 shots in each magazine.

10-inch XOS Combat/Survival Knife- A 10-inch blade bade of a Titanium-Carbide alloy.

Hades Hooded Nanite-Wired Stealth Armor (HHN-WSA) Mk. 25- A marvel of science, the nanite wiring in the jacket, vest, and pants provide superior protection against bludgeoning, slashing (up to 1208 Joules of force in both categories), and even thermal damage (-240 to 2280 Degrees Fahrenheit). However, the nanites cannot defend against piercing damage, such as a knife or a spear. (Bullets aren't stopped, but they are slowed considerably.)

Helios Sealed Facemask Mk5- The HSF Mk5 is a completely airtight gasmask with built-in hyperspectral vision, HUD, and comm system.

M256 SAW LMG- A .65 Caliber, drum-loaded machine gun with 1600 rounds, that fires at 1200 rounds/minute. This beast of a gun shreds through material like tissue. It punches through light vehicle armor with ease, and has a fairly wide spread, able to destroy quite a bit at medium range, although it is thoroughly useless at long range.

H-MAC Rotary Grenade Launcher- Holding 12 35mm HE grenades, the H-MAC is a canister-reloaded launcher, that fires grenades fairly rapidly. The grenades have a 15-foot blast radius.

SCAR-AS Mk4- A battle rifle with 30 rounds a mag, and a 600 RPM capability, which fires 7.62×51mm NSATO (North-South America Treaty Organization) rounds. A typical Battle Rifle used by the NSATO forces.

10-inch XOS Combat/Survival Knife- A 10-inch blade bade of a Titanium-Carbide alloy.

"Ashur" NCHAP (New Caliphate Heavy Armor Platform)- A suit with Tungsten-Titanium plating, covered in a Ring Carbon laminate, both of which are insanely resistant to damage. The suit's capabilities are:

-Resistance to most forms of physical damage, making anything less than a vehicle-mounted weapon useless against it.
-Resistance from virtually every radiation known to man, although the suit is unable to withstand tactical nuclear warheads, heavy plasma/laser arrays, the sun, etc.
-Physical enhancement to be able to move normally with the suit on.
-Self-contained oxygen tanks worth 3 hours of breath.
-A command suite with motion tracking, IFF, hyperspectral vision, telescopic vision (200x human sight), electric ambiance sensor, sonar, and comms.

Bio: Chico was born to a lady of the evening in 1771, in Sao Paulo. From a young age, he was a fighter. So, he put his natural disposition to use, and became a warrior. However, he discovered, when his mother died, that he could not age, and was immune to poison or disease. So he did what he was best at, fighting for his home, even in the current year of 2100.

[User]
"... and that's how I saved Rio de Janeiro from the Eight Syndicates of 2050." The workmen around him clapped, cheering him on. It was a story they had all heard before as children, how the War Wolf of the Brasil Republique had gone on many adventures in his life. Hell, he was a legend, a real-life Captain America. He had comic books, movies, and novels written about him. It was pretty flattering, if Chico were to be honest.

If America weren't an oligarchy which in no way resembled its' founding values now- anyways, that was neither here nor there. Taking a sip of water from the cooler they were all drinking from, Chico prepared to tell another story, back from the 1990's, when he had assisted the Colombian Confederacy in their American-Backed 'War on Drugs', when a scream split the dusty air of the reconstruction site.

Immediately throwing his helmet back on, feeling the familiar pressurized hiss of the internal oxygen filters purifying the air in his lungs, and the HUD came alive, marking all of the construction workers within a 1000 meter radius with blue dots, and showing Chico that there was a foreign presence about 10 meters away, and three stories down. Sprinting forward, Chico leapt from the edge, and free-fell through the air, getting a complete view of the situation.

Some stereotypically British doof of a salaryman had just ripped out the foreman for this sector's spine. That was one indication that he was more than human, but his EAS (Electric Ambiance Sensor) confirmed it. This guy glowed like a HyperChristmas tree, evidence of some scramblers, which meant a cyborg, because there was no way that he had the means to scramble ECM and rip out a man's spine otherwise.

Landing in the superhero position, Chico grabbed his SCAR off its' position on his lower back, and whipped it around quicker than the eye can see, pointing it at the cyborg's center mass.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but if you don't stand down and surrender, you and I are going to have quite a bit of fun before I put you six feet under." Xil Gil couldn't see his smile, but Chico was grinning wildly. "And believe me, I want you to try something. It's been so long since I had a good fight."

As soon as the cyborg opened his mouth, Chico fired, letting loose at full automatic at the doofy-looking murderer.

[Assistant]
Xil Gil had indeed been about to say something, having even begun twirling an index finger to accentuate some snobby remark. He then staggered back as bullets pounded against his body, maroon blood spattering from multiple skin-deep holes. His designer coat and undershirt were torn apart as easily as tissue paper, revealing a skinny but unusually chistled upper body criss-crossed in at least two-dozen places by long suture scars.

That kind of rifle could rip a normal man's arm off. Xil Gil, not even close to normal, began quickly pacing towards Chico, the crableg latching mechanisms on his feet digging into the ground and preventing the hail of hot lead from throwing him off balance. As he did so he extended both arms, palms open and in the rifle's line of fire.
He could tough out plenty of gunfire, but if enough bullets were to nail him, it could eventually start damaging his composite muscle fibers. Xil Gil's hands, though, were virtually invulnerable to bullets. They had to be, in order to allow him to squeeze nearly any material into putty.

He'd track Chico's aim with his hands as if they were a pair of tiny shields, trying to take as much heat away from his body as he could. There weren't any sparks, no. That's only in the movies. Instead it looked as if dozens of white smoke puffs were erupting from Xil Gil's hands.

All the while the cyborg slipped closer, he kept trying to yell something over the thunderous noise.

"SELF-DEFENSE!! SELF-DEFENSE!! I AM UPHOLDING MY RIGHT AS A CITIZEN OF THIS FINE STATE TO DEFEND MYSELF!!"

Yes. It was true. This was all taking place in Florida. Still a shit place in the future.

[User]
Doctor Chico saw the thin spray of blood as his bullets hit center mass, and smiled. So he could be hurt by bullets. He wasn't some sort of invincible tank. Then, he raised his hands, and Chico frowned. White puffs of smoke, like hitting sandbags or armored plate. Alternating his aim towards different parts of the man's body, the man managed to track the bullets. Interesting. So he had enhanced reflexes, like Chico, and unlike Chico, had armor focused on his hands. Well then, it seemed that he would have to rectify that situation.

Holding the SCAR steady in his right hand, and continuing to fire, Chico reached around his back, and grabbed the H-MAC, leveling it at the ground in front of the British cyborg. "Pretty sure that's not how the law works when you kill someone unprovoked, pendejo!"

Holding down the trigger, Chico unloaded the H-MAC into the ground, 12 grenades exploding in the span of two seconds.

[Assistant]
When Chico took a hand off his rifle, Xil Gil broke into a dead sprint. Up until that point he had just been power walking. He wasn't super fast, but he wasn't a slacker neither. By the time the grenade launcher had been aimed, Xil Gil would be less than three yards away. He wasn't focusing on blocking the bullets anymore, knowing that the recoil would be too unpredictable to bother with.

Of course, Xil Gil hadn't known a grenade launcher was involved. He saw an opponent reach for something and decided to try and make a rush. When the cyborg saw what was now being pointed in his direction, his expression shifted from that of malignant confidence to jaw dropping surprise and dismay.

"CHRIST IT'S A BLOODY CANNON!!"

Both would be in the explosive range of the grenades, but should Chico be crazy-assed enough to fire anyways, Xil Gil would have an answer. Of course, there being so little time to react, the cyborg would do this anyways. A gamble. His lead foot would bury itself in the ground and latch on, knee bending, center of gravity dropping, momentum screeching to a near instant stop. No vanilla human could have possibly replicated it. Should Chico have been leading his shots, then instead of firing right directly in front of Xil Gil the grenades would land further away and forwards. At the same time then Xil Gil would leap backwards from the brief crouch he had entered during his momentum cancellation.

If that all came to pass, Xil Gil would be knocked further back by the detonations and great clouds of dust and debris would obscure what had happened to him.

Now, if Chico held off on firing, he'd see the derpy killer suddenly stop and jump back out of reflex, conveniently providing the soldier with a safer opening to fire grenades.

[User]
Doctor Chico didn't get where he was by being unprofessional. However, when the man flinched and jumped back, he almost bent over laughing. "Amor de cristo, homem! It's only a fuckin' grenade launcher! Calm your tits!"

However, even as he said this, he backed away quickly, opening fire with the SCAR once more, aimed at his chest. This was a distraction, because when the man blocked with his hands, he would fire twice at his feet, hopefully launching him into the air.