Zone C -- Megacity One

[Illidan Stormrage]

The first sign of movement on the whole island he had spotted and it was Gildarts. Standing in the doorway, staring down the red haired human, time seemed to freeze. Illidan slowed his breathing, fingers balled into fists, heart thumping in his chest. His warglaives were a moment from being summoned, ready to cleave through flesh if the haunting silence broke in the wrong direction.
 
Gildarts stood just as rigid, his face hard and intimidating, preparing himself no doubt for the battle that could begin at any moment. Sunlight glinted off the metal of his arm as he formed a fist.
 
Illidan used the pause to size up Gildarts. His sorcerous eyes burrowed deep into the human, scouring his soul. A great magical ability rested in Gildarts, though from his outward appearance he looked like anything but a mage. It was a magic unfamiliar to the night elf, though surely the human would hardly understand the fel power coursing through his veins. In any case, his blazing eyeballs read Gildarts and his skill at wielding this strange power. He wouldn't be easily defeated.
 
How many more contestants on this island possessed the same formidable talent as Gildarts? Was it wise to strike him now, initiating a battle that he could very well lose? What would that show the world of Dracula's horrible new officer? Illidan was powerful, but he wasn't stupid. Bravado and arrogance could only get him so far, and other times it would only get him death. An idea rose in his mind.
 
Illidan's question still hung on the air as if it had just been uttered. Gildarts made no move to respond, his lips sealed tight, his jaw clenched. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing.
 
"You are no weakling, that much is apparent," Illidan said as tendrils of fog from outside billowed into the doorway and caressed his shoulders. He was taking a risk, but not an uncalculated one. He prided himself on reading others, a skill that had saved his life on numerous occasions. "And if you are representative of my other adversaries on this island, battling you now would be a foolish move."
 
Gildarts could've been a statue for all the moving he did, until his lips finally animated. "I agree."
 
Illidan remembered the fear that struck the humanoid squid back in the hallway, and how that had been instigated by a simple release of Gildarts' magic. Even the night elf had experienced it in a small form as it rippled from the red haired human, though even an enchanted manipulation of fear hardly registered on the night elf's radar. He had seen too much to be scared off by simple tricks.
 
"What would you say to an alliance?" Illidan said. "To last until one of us perishes, or until we are the last remaining competitors?"
 
Gildarts' eyes narrowed. He stepped towards the night elf, his face unreadable. Illidan tensed as the human sorcerer approached, the only sound in the room emanating from his footsteps; one a soft clomping of a boot, the other a clanging of his metal leg.
 
Was the human using this opportunity of uncertainty to make the first strike? Illidan had considered it himself, but self preservation and years of tactical warfare suggested the odds were better in safety in numbers, even if one of that number was a somewhat unknown wild card.
 
Gildarts stopped an arm's length from Illidan's exposed torso. The human's bandaged hand shot out, and the night elf almost lashed out instinctively. The hand stopped, fingers open.
 
"Deal," Gildarts said.
 
Illidan had seen this gesture before. It had never appealed to him, but this was no time to be particular about customs.
 
His purple hand clasped the pale one, and they shook on their new arrangement.
 
Only time would tell if it was a smart move, or if it would be Illidan's undoing.
 

Illidan and Gildarts have allied.