[4-14] The Town

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

All at once, the building had become a warzone.

The once proud predator now lay shattered among the remains of the leveled census building, crushing debris swaddling him in a suffocating veil of brick and drywall. Nanaki blinked his sole working eye against the rain of pulverized gypsum that continued to fall, straining his golden optic for any sign of his comrades. As he worked to remove his weakened frame from its confines, the area was rocked by a series of explosions not far off, generating a veritable avalanche of building remains. He lowered his head in an attempt to shield himself from the fallout, wriggling his fatigued form from free of the plasterboard prison. 

Move. His muscles cried out in opposition as he stumbled away from the sounds of the building rending itself asunder. By rights he had no reason to continue; by the smiling deity’s own admission, if he were to perish he would simply be reborn. Though he lacked the phone that Karl had ‘gifted’ him, the knowledge that Vincent was alive should have been more than enough to allow the beast to simply let himself fade into oblivion—but it wasn’t. 

Red stumbled as he walked, as a dog might after receiving his shots. His nostrils were caked with grit, a fierce burning spreading from his nose to his lungs. Eyes watered and squinted through the muddy, distorted image that was presented before his eyes. He was disoriented, fatigued and damn near blinded, but he had to move: For her. Nanaki had gotten what he needed, but Christa had still come up short. Vincent would be fine, Omni willing. It was the sniper’s sister that now sat upon the chopping block. Family, the beast pondered, casting back to his late father and his crippled mother, now both long gone in his absence. Family was worth dying for, even if it were not his own.

As the building’s annihilation began to slow, the sounds of destruction seemed only to increase in rhythm. The ground shook and the air boomed, both familiar instruments of the symphony the building’s collapse had generated. What were alien, however, were the inhuman thundering and the cries of desperation. Though his once-powerful senses had been muddied since reaching the island, in that moment Red began to feel the familiar static-y feeling crawling up his neck that told of those gathered nearby. He had no time to question or analyze the information; He needed to reach them.

CRACK.

He recognized the sound of the rifle’s discharge instantly. Christa. Red broke into an unsteady run, seconds later redoubling his pace as a deafening CRASH met his ears. Was he too late? Muscle and tendon, sore and torn, carried the carmine cat swiftly into the fray. 

“Red!”

His heart leapt at the call, making a beeline for the woman’s position. As he neared he heard a familiar booming cry from some amorphous, grotesque figure to his left. The quakes of its footfalls began to near, soon stopping altogether as the high-pitched whine of Colonel arm cannon offered painful distraction.

“Christa?” Nanaki inquired, blinking hard to clear debris from his eyes. He could make out the vague shape of half of the huntress.

“Yeah,” she responded, voice slightly pained. “You okay?”

“Been better,” he replied, “I can’t see too well.”

“Well, sonuvabitch threw a car on top of me,” Christa replied. Red could see her struggling to extricate herself, her busted arm doing her no favors. Neither predator would have an easy time with the monstrosity currently tangling with the rest of the group. Even at their best it would be a challenge. Currently? They were doomed.

They needed many things. Time. Energy. Strength.

Anything you desire can be yours. The mad God’s words echoed in Red’s mind. Maybe it was time to take him at his word.

“Christa, do you trust me?” Red rasped, stepping closer to her working hand.

“Yes.”

“Give me your hand and relax.” 

She laid her hand gingerly upon his head as he slowly closed his eyes, focusing on a singular thought. Strength. Christa’s eyes widened as her companion dissolved into golden light, motes of energy enveloping her form. She opened her mouth to speak, though she found no words. In an instant, they ceased to exist as two became one.

With a thunderous crash the car left the concrete as the light faded, barreling through the air and colliding with the tyrant’s torso. The mutated humanoid staggered as it was struck, turning his head to gaze upon a newcomer.

“That was yours,” the feral figure growled, flexing its muscly frame. Golden fur covered its lithe humanoid limbs from head to toe, inky black claws tearing into the asphalt. A pair of amber irises focused on the misshapen man, a mocking smirk present on its face. “And this one is fucking mine,” the hybrid snarled, at once generating a fireball within a clawed hand and pitching the explosive projectile toward the tyrant, flesh searing as it detonated.

Using 2 SP to maintain fusion for the rest of the encounter. 1 SP from both of us puts it at 2/4 and 6/9, respectively.