Esone hurled Sun as hard as he could into the wall before him, burying the Day Caste as deep as he could. He then flickered over to Raiton, dissolving and reforming in a swirl of clinging shadows. Raiton was hoisted deftly up by the head, the bird mask clinging to her face like an unholy second skin.<br/><br/>"Hasta la vista, creepy."<br/><br/>Metallica slammed up into the Deathknight's jaw, a shotgun report ringing out through the cavern. The punch sent her flying, and for a moment she seemed to go slack. Moments after impact Raiton dissolved into a column of tarry smoke, her malevolently husky voice rasping out of the smog.<br/><br/>"Shed our blood this day if you so wish, pitiful life-born. It means nothing in the end. The Tombs of the Neverborn are open, and the horrors that dwell in their depths will not be denied!"<br/><br/>With that the smoke whipped away, seeping out through every available crack it could find. A river of foul breath, surging for the cosmic void.<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080FF">-Emergency Abyssal ability, Immortal Malevolence Enslavement. Restricted to the most devout servants of the Neverborn, the Deathknight will reform in the Tomb of their master within the next terran month.-</span><br/><span style="color: #000000">Lovely. Just like a scaled-down Harbinger.</span><br/>"Crap. BOSS! Some of these guys aren't gonna stay dead!"<br/><br/>"You should now be scared / I don't die so easily / And now I am pissed."<br/><span style="color: #000000">What? Crap. Sun got out faster than we anticipated.</span><br/><br/>A hailstorm of frigid shards shattered against Rare Earth, accompanying a shotgun report that sounded more like a cackling chorus of the damned than an ignition of gunpowder. Esone spun around, only to find Black Hole Sun pressing the stylized muzzle of a modified Remington 1740 into his face. A skull had been plated in Soulsteel and mounted so that the barrels discharged their payload directly from the eye sockets. Sun cycled the modified pump-action, pulling the trigger before Esone could react. The skull's lower jaw waggled, mimicking the insane laughter of it's report.<br/><br/>Esone channeled Malfeas in an instant, actually taking a step forward and allowing the blast to wash over him. Brass plates flickered into existence over him for a breath, the Soulsteel buckshot uselessly impacting the Infernal’s body with a spray of sparks and brass shavings. His hand shot up the moment the sparks flew, taking hold of the shotgun in order to rip it from Sun's grasp.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry," the Scourge sneered, dancing back a few steps. "Did you have feelings for her or something? Can't say you have great taste, she wasn't much too look at. And her personality was hardly endearing."<br/><br/>He paused, for a moment, considering the shotgun in his hands. "Also, I'm keeping this."<br/><br/>Black Hole Sun actually seemed aghast at the prospect of losing his firearm, whipping his blade back out and rocketing after Esone in pursuit.<br/><br/>"Black Moon Creeping! Return to me!"<br/><span style="color: #000000">Wow, he actually broke his haiku streak!</span><br/><br/>The shotgun shuddered in Esone's hands, struggling to rejoin it's master. Esone obliged it, viscously jabbing the skull into Sun's visor the moment the Abyssal was in range. Sun's katana whistled past the Lieutenant's legs, missing him by a hair's breath as he jumped over the strike. Sun stumbled back again -he was taking a ridiculous amount of abuse considering he was an assassin caste- and dizzily took another defensive stance. The disconcerting chorus of his voice barked out some gibbering mess of magical glossolalia, and the length of the katana glowed a bleak bluish-grey. A howling gale of souls, compressed along the cutting edge.<br/><br/>"The true world revealed / Weaknesses now known to me / Time to go to work."<br/><br/>The gale of blood cut his stride short, Masquera's sanguine typhoon hindering even the forces of the Neverborn. Frozen shards sheered through the Deathknight despite his resilient armor, but to Esone's horror the wounds healed in some twisted Abyssal version of a Perfect Defence. Esone on the other hand resorted to the power of She Who Lives In Her Name, reshaping reality to produce a phenomenon capable of neutralizing the attack. In this case, the event was a inexplicable flurry of custard cream pies that met each bitter fragment head on. The resulting smell was initially delicious yet deeply sickening.<br/><br/>Esone glided across the slick resultant mess, Adorjan's blessed grace lending his stride unimpeded perfection. Sun struggled to match the Scourge's movements, but slipped just at he brought the katana to bear. Esone grabbed the falling Deathknight by the wrist, flicking the poor Day Caste at Masquera like a paper football. The faceless Deathknight flailed haphazardly as it barreled into his leader, deflected at the last moment by a blow from the Mask's Soulsteel chair.<br/><br/>042 moved aggressively in the Mask's direction, turret and wrist-guns blazing. All along the Alchemical's spine had sprouted a ridge of speakers, a deep beat throbbing in the bones of the world. The Geths voice echoed from the speakers, rich and expressive but still tinged with mechanical stiffness. A throbbing ultramarine light seeped from within 042's heavy Soulsteel plating, the umbral color actually painful to look at.<br/><br/>---<span style="font-style: italic">It is time now to create the ultimate dance party.<br/> You may already have a catchy melody, and a fierce groove, but that's not enough. <br/>To take things over the top, you will need to employ the greatest weapon in the dance party arsenal: <br/>you will need to start shaking your rear end. Or as some people call it...<br/><br/>Your hind-quarters<br/>Your backside<br/>Your bottom<br/>Your buttocks<br/>Your rump<br/>Your posterior<br/>Your heiny<br/>Your keister<br/>Your tush<br/>Your buns <br/>Your bum cakes<br/>Your junk-in-the-trunk<br/>Your badonk-a-donk<br/>Your squash tart<br/>Your fanny<br/>Your double-slug<br/>Your wiggle bags<br/>Your mud flaps<br/>Your rump rockets<br/>Your flesh pot<br/>Your second face<br/>Your bounce house<br/>The jiggle twins<br/>Jar Jar Binks<br/>Your bubble pop<br/>Your medicine ball<br/>Your sonic boom<br/><br/>Ladies and gentlemen, please stand up. <br/>L-l-la-ladies and gentlemen, please stand up. <br/>Ladies and gentlemen, please stand up. <br/>and<br/>SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE...<br/>Your booty.</span>---<br/><span style="color: #000000">Adorjan have mercy, how many terms do you people need for your butts?</span><br/><br/>Esone danced amidst the bullets, moving into range for Metallica to wreck her havoc. Black Moon Creeping cast a round at the Deathlord before Esone cast it into Elsewhere, hoping to prevent Sun rearming himself.<br/><br/>Sun himself was drunkenly struggling to his feet, Mask's blow having actually knocked his visor off. The face that dwelt beneath was skeletal, devoid of flesh but laden with wrinkled folds of parchment-textured skin. Diseased black veins wove like morbid tattoos wherever skin was exposed. A ghastly smile was permanently stretched across his face, demented fishhook piercings holding up the corners of his mouth. Mossy green teeth peeked from between cracked crimson lips. Wispy white strands of hair hung in a knotted nest atop a rapidly-peeling cranium.<br/><br/>"MY FACE! GIVE ME BACK MY FACE!"<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080FF">-Sweet Sol Invictus, what have we done?!-</span><br/><span style="color: #000000">Put the helmet back on, PUT THE HELMET BACK ON! <span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline">EBON DRAGON, BLIND MY NONEXISTENT EYES<span style="font-weight: bold">!</span></span></span></span>