Parking Lot [Page 8]

Skipping across the black top, a faceless die ricocheted off the divots of the parking lot’s asphalt floor. Dulled blue sparks bursting forth from the die with each strike against the course surface, bounding and bouncing until momentum could no longer carry it. Pulsating waves of influence; manifesting as jagged bolts of light, tracing the surface in a dim blue hue. The cube resonated at a frequency beyond that of human ears, but the emanating heat could be felt by any that approached. The black top turned soft, revealing its liquid form as the scene neared completion. Above the cube, the heat waves blurred vision, softening it boarders, warping reality. For those capable of seeing past the veil, the gate opened a viewpoint to the centre of infinity[Sigil].

Karne

The silhouette of a thin framed man dressed in a long trench coat appeared, emerging from the breach. Scanning his new surroundings through strains of pale hair, the cold gaze of the stranger matching his discontent. The rumors had proven true, the location designed to host motorized vehicles had shifted focus to become a stage for countless brawls. Here rambunctious men settled their matters in the only way they knew how...

Withdrawing his gloved hand from the pocket of his coat, the stranger slowly descended to retrieve the black faced die from the soft asphalt. Examining the cube momentarily, eyeing it for damage or residue before slipping the object of his travel into his pocket.

News had reached the Mage’s ear of a tournament, resurrected from the sands of time. To which this location served as a gathering point for participants itching for a taste of what was to come. Once a rumour he could dismiss; the foreigner now had to embrace reality’s sick joke. The man’s only relief coming from his lack of notability, which allowed him to casually pose as a spectator. Business that had drawn the man to the Parking Lot, an obligation, not pride or arrogance. His intention was to simply observe, at least for now.

Ogelsby Misra: Shooting the s**t, enjoying the show.

A little bead of sweat peeled down the boy's cheek as he waited for Red to answer his confession. While he was observant at the worst of times, he was a little stuck in his own head. He spent more time than he would have liked trying to squash the thoughts of retribution that found their way to the surface, so much so that they simply became stronger the longer the silence endured. It was only after she asked if he thought she would be mad that he was able to yank himself out of his own head and actually see what was going on.

She was not mad, in fact, she found the fact that Ogelsby thought she would be mad amusing. She enjoyed making him sweat and toddle back and forth like he was doing the pee pee dance with anticipation. How sadistic! He could respect that, though, certainly he'd done the same to a corporate underling at least once. Still, he felt relieved.

"I am relieved to hear that."

Ogelsby said as he let out a heavy sigh. He felt like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders that he'd been carrying around. He knew he should have asked first, that way he could have avoided all this stress.

"You can have this one if you like. The cells inside it will decay soon though. They never do last very long like this, but I have the schematic digitized. I can actually mass produce these if I wanted to." He began explaining. "It's just still not as efficient as other energy sources, unfortunately. It's handy for making robots that can eat real food and turn it into power, but in vehicles and the like it's more of a novelty than an actual solution."

Ogelsby lamented the limitations of the technology. There was something about having the mind behind the powers that Ogelsby just couldn't manage to replicate even with organic processors based on Red's genes. They would always just be weaker than her real body, in general. Still, they had their niche, mostly in androids.

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Red the Ambivalent Wrote:

Not Roen Wrote:

> "What the ******** is going on?"

"I'd like to know the same thing."

Roen might have recognized the voice that answered him, if only barely. Although much of the mirth and hopefulness had been drained from the monk's voice over the past few years, it wasn't that much different from how he sounded when he set his holy man persona aside and actually managed to speak with conviction. It was a tone the Devil would remember from years ago, in Sigil, right after Ertai Vexic was driven from the City of Doors.

Yes, Tenkai had remembered that day. Though he didn't hold it as much of a grudge against the Devil these days. Tenkai wasn't as ignorant as to think that Roen's recklessness that day was completely unmerited. Extraordinary situations called for extraordinary measures, and thankfully not a half-measure. Still, looking back on that day, Tenkai did not see it as being as necessary as Roen might have been. To Tenkai, "no half-measures" meant not recklessly doling out mercy to those who did not deserve it. Roen, on the other hand, was a different story.

If Roen turned to face him, he would see that there was far more that was different about him in appearance than in his voice. Gone were the monk's robes he was known to wear casually as he traveled about. In its place as a surprisingly updated set-up of his usual battlegear, the once bare and exposed section of his torso how showing that he was dressed from the neck down in a black bodysuit. He had discarded his old shoulder armor for an armor sleeve/gauntlet that strapped across his chest and served as an anchor point to a new pauldron shaped in the likeness of a wrathful deity. His belt, his scabbard and even the fittings of his sword showed some modern improvement in technology, a stark difference between the monk he remembered. What would stand out the most, however, was the sword guard eyepatch that covered his missing right eye.

"Roen Jaeger."

The displeasure from that day long past still hung in Tenkai's voice, if only a bit muted. It was more from a sense of dubiousness in his presence than some outright righteous indignation. If Roen had known that Tenkai had joined the Order of Force Majuere, then perhaps that displeasure would make more sense. Suffice to say, the history between the Monk and the Devil was enough.

"I didn't think I'd find you of all people out here in this place," asked the monk, his arms folded across his chest. "But you seem just as confused as I am. I take it you don't know where you are right now."

Silver Alexander Wrote:

> "If you're looking for Sunny, I'm afraid I really can't help."

"Figures." For a moment a crestfallen look passed across the firey healers face, and then it was replaced by a happy-go-lucky smile as her grip on Silver's arm loosened, taking her hand away with a flirtatious little caress.

"It really is nice to see so many old faces again though... why Vahn was at the stadium just a while back, and now you happen by... I was hoping that my Sunny-bunny would be the next to stop in, I have really missed him." She actually fluttered her eyelashes at Silver, chuckling softly as if at the silliness of her assumption.

"You know what would be spectacular? If you and Vahn, and Lazenca all got together again for the reunion! I'd even patch you up for free if you got hurt." Bird brain alert, the woman was in full flirt mode now, clasping her hands behind her back, and rocking on her heels with a big, sweet smile as she looked up at him with her chaotic orange eyes, flares shooting off from the tiny suns trapped in her gaze.

She was up to no good blaugh

"Ahhhh?"

Repositioned and rubuffed, Omi crossed his own arms across his chest and seemed to be looking upwards- as though that'd assist him in his cognitive abilities somewhat.

So much to digest; the woman seemed to know him, the boy seemed to be a noncombative, that...

His eyes then darted towards Red Yusuke -- scanning the outline of her body in detail and without blinking much to the no doubt inappropriate tone it'd instill. He knew this woman? No less, she spoke of his presence at Predator's Keep -- may the gods bless poor Bloodguard -- which wasn't knowledge anyone at this hellhole should possess. But whom? And for why?

Then, inspiration.. or just meager realization.

"Oh! Lady Yusuke. My dearest apologies, I... didn't recognize you. Also my apologies, Ogelsby boy -- I had only assumed you were eager to prove yourself after that disabling display before. But we are not all combatants, are we? Not everyone has a warrior's spirit, do we? Hahahaha! Hahahaha!!"

His voice boomed out with uproarious laughter like he had just made an obscenely witty joke. It was obvious he expected someone to laugh in turn, which might have been indication of the unfortunate state of his soldiers back at the Keep's forced roles. It was also rather obvious he wasn't used to small talk, broad chest rising and falling with his own voice breaking briefly to mutter between guffaws, "N-no warrior's spirit indeed, haha, not much of a- hahaha!!"

Then it completely died in a split instant.

His laughter was gone and so was his smile, a stoned expression replacing it along with upright posture.

"**Spectators then. Audience members. Well, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Just because you haven't formally put your signature on a dotted line to join the revelry doesn't make a single bit of difference. There are those here who would attack you simply because you exist and you are present. No "ROBOTIC BODYGUARDS..".." Omi trailed off dramatically with some obvious disdain towards the concept Red had broached. "..will replace diligence. Take me, were I a hostile sort and malevolent, I'd already have given the woma-my apologies, the fair lady Red, a mortal wound before the two of you'd had time to react. This isn't a clubhouse, boy.**"

A wry smile parted his demeanor's grim elements once again.

"As for that bet... of course I placed it on you winning. That was some throwaway archer with some kind of explosives weighing their bolts down--" forgetting himself momentarily since he had just been revealed it was the woman present, his brows furrowed with a correction of: "-ah, very skilled archer though they were; YOU had pluck, boy. You just didn't go far enough! Keep training until you're older.." Said without a drop of irony or self-awareness the 27 year old. "Who knows? You might become something."

Already, he had completely lost his train of thought. Omi had already realigned to remembering that fray. Supposedly, he was originally there awaiting his "HoH" team's captain, but that was long ago a forgotten objective. There was something entertaining present.

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Red the Ambivalent Wrote:

Spooky Mittens Wrote:

Even while fighting Connor, Garah could not help but over-hear a woman say she fought Omi Barsait. Presuming her to be from Valucre, being that she possessed the Valucre look and being that he never saw her before, he disengaged from Connor and decided to walk to-ward her. "Hello," began the shinobi dressed in geta and blue athletic pants, "I will be trying to kick your a** to-day. Good luck!" The shinobi held a katana in his right hand and bore full-metal shoulder, arm and hand armor. As he channeled chi from his chakras to his hand, through his armor and in-to his sword, wisps of visible purple spirit energy could be seen circling around the blade.* Crouching slightly, he sprinted at Yusuke at a speed under twenty-eight miles per hour, aiming his blade at her center of gravity, between the thorax and hips.

**Chi Cannon*: one preparation

Ogelsby Misra: Definitely need an adult.

Ogelsby went quiet over the next couple of moments. This had honestly been the first time that Ogelsby's mind had ever been probed or invaded. When he heard Red's thoughts inside his own mind, it was difficult to distinguish them from his own. Was he being fed knowledge from an outside source, or were these things he was remembered and made to forget? The brain was an amazing piece of biological machinery, and though these thoughts were not his own, how could he hear them in anything but his own internal voice?

Ogelsby wondered for a moment if this was a two-way street. He began thinking back. Don't tell me he. . . For a flash of a moment, Ogelsby imagined both Red and Omi in the nude. He'd never actually seen them that way before, but when thinking about this subject matter it was difficult to keep his imagination from wandering into territory that was usually off limits. Could you really blame him, though, for letting his thoughts be as they would? He reminds me of something. He finished the thought, bringing to the fore of his mind the faceless metal visage of a creature from beyond his understanding of reality and fiction.

The depiction he conjured was clear as day, a metal mask with a lipless mouth, filled to bursting with metal blades for teeth and a pair of long curling ram horns on the sides of its head. A red mane filled the space behind the blank face and the sensation of black sludge crawling over one's skin accompanied it. It spoke the boy's name, and Ogelsby's face went white for a moment - just as a "ninja" turned to face the group.

He could see it coming. The posture, the look in the man's eyes, how he held his sword. He approached, announced himself, and then he began.

Quote: Wrote:

> Override Initiated: Location parameters shifted beyond acceptable levels. Standby command overridden. > > Warning. Evacuation Protocols Enabled. Extraction commencing.

The command issued from Reginald into Ogelsby's implants, and the boy let out an internal sigh. He was partly grateful, and partly annoyed. Knowing what he now knew about Omi Barsait he wasn't sure if it was okay for him to be getting whisked away by his bodyguard like this. Ogelsby dropped something on the ground just as a flash of orange light erupted from Reginald the Robot Butler's arm.

In the blink of an eye, Ogelsby was encapsulated in an egg-shaped bubble of hardlight, a technology he managed to master thanks in part to Red. The small glass globe he'd held in his hand fell to the ground with a clacking sound, the material being a quite durable laminate of silica glass and polycarbonate. His popcorn bucket had been shunted aside by the appearance of the field, throwing fluffy white, buttery kernals all over the sidewalk. He looked towards Red and tried to say something, but to no avail as sound couldn't pass through the barrier surrounding him.

Reginald began to book it at that point, the glowing orange egg hovering off the ground several feet behind.

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Red the Ambivalent Wrote:

Haelikor Wrote:

Garah Kirjearim Wrote:

There was this...Tickle of awareness somewhere deep in her thoughts. While Ogelsby wondered what it was that had been done, she nearly punched the poor lad. She was still in his thoughts, she could see what he was thinking. She saw him thinking about Omi and herself naked, but with great restraint Red simply pulled her link from the boy, abandoning his thoughts as his mind wandered.

Garah Kirjearim Wrote:

> "I will be trying to kick your a** to-day. Good luck!"

That small bit of awareness she'd ignored jumped to the front, again another deep frown tugging her pale lips down. "You've got to be kidding me!" It was a mumble, at least so she had intended. In reality she nearly shouted it and threw her hands down to her sides from their crossed position.

She felt it-- Some weird psychic resonance coming from Barsait, something she'd never felt before, never pegged him as a psionic, which normally the blonde could pick up on rather quick. It was momentary, almost too quick and in such a small degree Red thought she was simply imagining things. A question for later, perhaps.

Right now there was a lunatic with a katana charging at her from across the lot, for reasons she was completely unsure. See, she had been telepathically speaking with Ogelsby about Omi and any past events, so the crazy ninja must be psychic too!

Looking to her right, Ogelsby was encased in an egg shaped orange shield, his lips were moving but she couldn't hear. 'I'll come find you.' If allowed, which she wasn't thinking so, she would try to force the message through the shield, any defense it may of held she would try to weave through, but without the proper time it could easily have failed.

Back to the charging fool, and Omi throwing a rock. Her hand fell to the quiver clipped to her armor, a special ring forged on her right hip to hold the bundle of arrows. Hardly noticeable, a few symbols on her armor began to dimly glow, fingers clasping onto one of the arrows and swiftly plucking it from it's home. Without skipping a beat her hand flung out, releasing the arrow so the arrowhead was directed towards whatshisface. It was no bowstring force, it might not even make it that far, so why was she doing it?

Simple. 'MOVE!' Unaware of Omi's hinderance of psionics, unaware that it was what had set him off years ago, the single word jumped from her head to the crimson mans, and with it the woman was bolting to the side as the arrow feebly hit the ground in front of the charging guy, maybe ten feet in front of herself and Omi, a good five strides in front of him.

The symbols on her armor flashed, a charge of some sort. The arrowhead flashed the same ominous red.

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Garah Kirjearim Wrote:

Haelikor Wrote:

Spooky Mittens Wrote: