04-30-2015, 07:16 PM
Whirda’s dagger leapt into her hand. In the span of a heartbeat, as drastic as their trip into this unusual realm, the tension had shifted to outright hostility. For all the teamwork involved in felling the primordial beast just minutes earlier, it seemed the prospect of a tangible prize prevailed over their tenuous alliance.
“You and me, kid?” Whirda murmured.
The preteen machine offered something between a frown and a smirk. “Let’s do this.”
Whirda couldn’t tell who struck first. Dio Brando lunged, his mild expression melting into a snarl. The Spartan warrior, wreathed in flame, merely chuckled as three swords blinked into existence above him and moved to intercept.
Dio ducked beneath the first sword, a thin coating of ice hardening around his right arm. He used this improvised gauntlet to bat the second of the Spartan’s swords aside. Dio bullied forward, lowering his shoulder in an attempt to overtake Atelos with sheer strength, but the warrior’s shield stopped him short, the pair growling as they broke apart.
“The World, defend!” Dio cried. His unusual weapon materialized in the path of the Spartan’s third sword, a moment before it would have hewn through his unprotected shoulder. The sword screeched along its length and flew wide, Dio scrambling backward to reassess, a newfound respect for the warrior’s prowess apparent in his eyes.
Transfixed by the display, Blues finally entered the fray. His arm cannon hummed to life as he charged, seeming comically small compared to the clashing titans, but Whirda knew better. Dio and the Spartan were formidable, that much was clear, but she had seen the preteen machine in action, and knew his appearance only belied his immense power.
The mercenary in red blurred for a moment as he slipped into invisibility, taking advantage of the distraction, and Whirda followed suit. The shadows gathered around her, rendering her invisible to the more forward-minded trio brawling at the foot of the pedestal. The orb of raw omnilium hovered above it, indifferent to the furious melee nearby.
Unfamiliar with the raw building blocks of the Omniverse, Whirda nevertheless recognized its importance. She would aid Blues any way she could, but if it came to blows between them, she would make it hers. Anything that could help her decipher the nature of the contagion superseded her fragile friendship with the preteen machine.
Whirda skirted along the outside of the battle, waiting for her chance to strike. As she moved, she manipulated the thrumming leylines of shadow in the air around her. Behind the functional camouflage she had formed around herself, a second Whirda, identical in every way, began to form, the shadow stretching and writhing to imitate her slender figure, her platinum white hair, even the pockmarks and gouges in her armor. She imparted a simple command: get between them.
Blues joined the fray, offering a volley of energy bolts from his arm cannon. The Spartan dropped to a knee behind his shield. The bolts met the barrier, driving the warrior back, a cloud of dust rising around him.
“Now this is fun,” Atelos laughed, rising to his feet as Dio Brando sprinted in from the side impossibly quickly, leaping straight at the unprepared warrior, his immense frame stretched horizontally. He slammed into the Spartan, ignoring the rippling flame, wrapping his arms around the warrior’s torso. The two collapsed in a blur of fists and feet.
Blues caught sight of Whirda’s clone and wisely kept his distance, seeming confused by her straightforward approach. He quickly realized the nature of the attack, his lips curling into a grin. From her point of concealment a dozen yards away, Whirda matched the preteen machine’s expression.
The clone paused between Dio and the Spartan as they rose from their scuffle, each breathing hard and snarling, their primal combat instincts overriding any shred of humanity left within them. Still, they each managed to quirk an eyebrow and frown as Whirda unleashed the second half of her attack, imparting a second command to her clone: detonate.
“You and me, kid?” Whirda murmured.
The preteen machine offered something between a frown and a smirk. “Let’s do this.”
Whirda couldn’t tell who struck first. Dio Brando lunged, his mild expression melting into a snarl. The Spartan warrior, wreathed in flame, merely chuckled as three swords blinked into existence above him and moved to intercept.
Dio ducked beneath the first sword, a thin coating of ice hardening around his right arm. He used this improvised gauntlet to bat the second of the Spartan’s swords aside. Dio bullied forward, lowering his shoulder in an attempt to overtake Atelos with sheer strength, but the warrior’s shield stopped him short, the pair growling as they broke apart.
“The World, defend!” Dio cried. His unusual weapon materialized in the path of the Spartan’s third sword, a moment before it would have hewn through his unprotected shoulder. The sword screeched along its length and flew wide, Dio scrambling backward to reassess, a newfound respect for the warrior’s prowess apparent in his eyes.
Transfixed by the display, Blues finally entered the fray. His arm cannon hummed to life as he charged, seeming comically small compared to the clashing titans, but Whirda knew better. Dio and the Spartan were formidable, that much was clear, but she had seen the preteen machine in action, and knew his appearance only belied his immense power.
The mercenary in red blurred for a moment as he slipped into invisibility, taking advantage of the distraction, and Whirda followed suit. The shadows gathered around her, rendering her invisible to the more forward-minded trio brawling at the foot of the pedestal. The orb of raw omnilium hovered above it, indifferent to the furious melee nearby.
Unfamiliar with the raw building blocks of the Omniverse, Whirda nevertheless recognized its importance. She would aid Blues any way she could, but if it came to blows between them, she would make it hers. Anything that could help her decipher the nature of the contagion superseded her fragile friendship with the preteen machine.
Whirda skirted along the outside of the battle, waiting for her chance to strike. As she moved, she manipulated the thrumming leylines of shadow in the air around her. Behind the functional camouflage she had formed around herself, a second Whirda, identical in every way, began to form, the shadow stretching and writhing to imitate her slender figure, her platinum white hair, even the pockmarks and gouges in her armor. She imparted a simple command: get between them.
Blues joined the fray, offering a volley of energy bolts from his arm cannon. The Spartan dropped to a knee behind his shield. The bolts met the barrier, driving the warrior back, a cloud of dust rising around him.
“Now this is fun,” Atelos laughed, rising to his feet as Dio Brando sprinted in from the side impossibly quickly, leaping straight at the unprepared warrior, his immense frame stretched horizontally. He slammed into the Spartan, ignoring the rippling flame, wrapping his arms around the warrior’s torso. The two collapsed in a blur of fists and feet.
Blues caught sight of Whirda’s clone and wisely kept his distance, seeming confused by her straightforward approach. He quickly realized the nature of the attack, his lips curling into a grin. From her point of concealment a dozen yards away, Whirda matched the preteen machine’s expression.
The clone paused between Dio and the Spartan as they rose from their scuffle, each breathing hard and snarling, their primal combat instincts overriding any shred of humanity left within them. Still, they each managed to quirk an eyebrow and frown as Whirda unleashed the second half of her attack, imparting a second command to her clone: detonate.
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