Alex simply narrowed his eye into a sharp glare at Trace's comment about how little his blades did, as well as the crack at his face. It was annoying, yes, but also things he was desensitized to enough that mild irritation is the worst the commentary had brought up. It was at that point that Garret gave his rant and charged in. As the black-haired punk mocked and went into his own tirade in response, the courier took the time to take a deep breath, and tried to gain<span style="font-style: italic">some</span>semblance of calm. He mostly just ignored the crazy brat, until he started making accusations of Alan that he ignored. The kid didn't seem the type to kill a person, let alone seven. It was at that point that Alan unleashed a scream of sheer rage, which had the courier's eye snap over to his position. The purple aura surrounding Alan got a concerned frown to form on his face, especially when it disappeared not even a second after. In all the time he's been walking the wastelands, he couldn't say he had seen many Syker powers acting like that. Or at least not in any way that wasn't detrimental to said Syker. Were the kid's powers unstable? Those thoughts stopped for a second in favor of shock when Alan confirmed the accusations, and did he just say that he would make it eight? As worrisome as that was however, it was not the time to think on it too deeply and the kid wasn't the one trying to kill them anyway. The time for that will be later, if ever.<br/><br/>It was, instead, time to act on the chance Alan could give them. Putting his palm against the revolving chamber of his Nuke, he flicked as hard as he could, streamers of silver spiraling behind him as his eye narrowed. If shooting didn't work, then he would use melee. If his usual blades failed to pierce his armor, then he'd use something with a bit more power behind it. Laid out on the ground around them, forgotten in the ongoing confrontation between Alan and Trace, were the many blades Alex had fired. Blades that were now seeing use as they dissolved into fine silvery particles and flowed towards the Nuke.<br/><br/>Over by where he healed Alan, Silver watched as the 'dust' gathered around the barrel. He watched as it reshaped and hardened, expanding until the barrel was consumed in a large, shining blade. The courier didn't appear to be inconvenienced at all by the four-foot-long blade now attached to his pistol, not even when he pulled his arm back to throw it. Before he did though, he saw Jane run up to him and whisper something. Whatever it was, it made the courier nod in agreement before he threw the Nuke. As soon as the blade left his hand, the brown-haired man ran after it. As a result, the second after it pierced the black-haired Nuke user's arm, Alex was able to kick it to embed the blade further and stab it into the psychopath's side.<br/><br/>"There's something I have to say, about your rant before," the courier said, grabbing the sword to pull it out of Trace while he moved between Trace and Alan. "Don't insult Garret," he continued with a particularly irked tone. He might not like Garret, but having an ally's back in the middle of a fight was just something you do. "I'm the only one who gets to put down the idiot." Of course, that didn't keep him from taking a mild crack at him.<br/>As this was happening, Silver noticed the blonde running past him. He had processed the tugging at his arm and the "come on come on come ON," she was telling him at the same time. Since he is not an idiot, he took the hint and went along with her. Looking back, he saw that Garret had also moved between the Syker and Nuke user to stand by the courier's side, both of them entering fighting poses.<br/><br/>Alex's involved him holding his sword in one hand in front of him at a slight tilt to the side, his free hand in a fist pulled to his side. Legs were set in somewhat loose position, likely to adjust his body and stance when needed. Garret in contrast had his legs in wide and firm stance designed to let him push off the ground and shoot himself forward like a rocket, leg aimed a pace to the right of Trace while the other was behind him and bent to the knee, as Garret's upper body facing a hair to the left with his head turned towards their opponent. One hand held his spear deceptively loosely under his arm with what<span style="font-style: italic">looks</span>like putting only the bare minimum of grip into holding it, while his other arm was held almost parallel to the front leg until it reached the elbow, where it was lifted and his hand held in an upwards-facing and almost claw-like gesture. They were a pair of contrasts, one rather simple and designed for flexibility while the other was substantially more complex and designed for quick bursts of speed and pursuit. But at the same time, they both held a form of significance. One that told Trace 'you shall not pass.'