Lucas gritted his teeth, watching the racers with almost wild eyes. He took in deep breaths, desperate to calm his nerves.
Suddenly, all attempts in helping his mind slow down were pointless. His heart lept as he saw the general fall. Paces behind it, another figure fell, blinking into existence. And all at once, his heart stopped.
So, it was her! his mind screamed, forcing him to take steps forward against his better will.
He slowly took the cloth he had been holding in his pocket, tying it tightly around his eyes.
It’s about time.
In a flash, Lucas was at the hero’s side. His hands were filled with all different kinds of throwing knives, yet his eyes were tightly shut with the thin strip of cloth. In an instant, he shot out his hands, simultaneously teleporting each blade to penetrate the breathing body of the racers. Without fail, he dropped their figures, each of them falling to the ground. Somehow, every knife returned back to Lucas’s hands— and it had only been sheer seconds.
Even with his vision completely gone, he could so very clearly see the alien creatures. Thin white outlines traced them, ever-glowing against the dark shield of his eyelids. In the daylight, the light counteractment would have been difficult, but with the help from his cloth blindfold, the contrast was perfect. He dropped lesser racers left and right, but soon turned his attention back to the hero.
“I knew it was you,” he said quietly. “In that case, I’m here to help. Now let’s kick some ass, eh?”
Broken ribs, definitely. Ellowyn shook her head, pulling herself to her feet. She had been sloppy. It was clumsy of her. When the guy who had recognized her appeared next to her, and easily destroyed a dozen Racers in the blink of an eye, she pursed her lips. Her ability had never been a good offensive power, not like Sala's fire manipulation, or Hannah's telekinesis. She had been better for spying missions, and now she… she was the only one left.
His power was cool, she had to admit.
She scowled at him. "Kick ass? Is that what you call it? This is war, not some game," she hissed. It wasn't his fault, but this was just like events were playing over again. He was foolish for thinking this was fun. "And I don't need," she winced at the sudden pain in her side, "help."
“Of course it isn’t a game,” he replied, although his voice was calm. A few years ago he would have snapped right back, but he had a level of control now that he hadn’t had before. Even with his power.
With another calculated shot, he let five knives ring. While his attention was elsewhere, he let four sink into one racer, and the other lodged itself in another. They all seemed drawn back to the palm of his hand, no matter how stuck it was within the tough skin of a alienfolk.
“I never said it was,” he muttered, still standing by her side. His head twitched around as if to look, although the blindfold stayed wrapped tight. “And I’m helping you whether you need it or not.”
"Piss off," Ellowyn snarled. He didn't deserve her anger, but he was so foolishly hopeful that superheroes could help save everyone. It was blind faith, and she hated it. It was what got her siblings killed in the first place. They had gotten too overconfident, with everyone's hopes on them, and look what happened.
Blocking out the pain of her ribs, which were broken for sure, she flashed out of view, running toward a group of Racers that the guy hadn't managed to get. She grabbed a metal pole that had held up a tent, and it vanished from view. She swung the pole, and it connected with the head of an alien with a sickening crunch, and blood flew through the air.
Lucas sneered at the comment, but spoke no more. He flung out more knives, his own body spinning around like it was the center spoke of some sharp, blade-shooting wheel.
One figure, outlined by white, moved faster than the others. Lucas guessed it was Phantom. He’d always wanted to see if he could tell her apart if she was invisible. He’d never encountered someone with a power that could somehow visually impaire. Much to his delight, he could still see her figure darting around and dropping the racers.
He made it a sure point not to hit her, but her moving around with the racers was a hard thing to keep track of. He took off a few on the latter side, endlessly shooting out his blood-infused blades. Lucas caught sight of a racer getting abruptly close to Phantom, but stuck a knife directly through its skull, watching the body crumple to the ground. It had been dangerously close to hitting either one, but then again…
Lucas had never really been one to miss.
Ellowyn had seen the knife coming, and had dodged out of the way just in time. The knife had imbedded in the Racer, inches from her nose, and she brushed some of her short hair from her face, scowling. Although she couldn't see her hair, she could feel it, and it was annoying her.
Busybody. Why couldn't he leave her to do this herself? She didn't care if she died or not. But he was a big help eliminating the creatures, and was helping the citizens.
But still.
With a crash, she sent a tent collapsing down onto a Racer's head, knocking it out with the heavy weight at the top, and smothering several others. She stomped on the lumps in the tarp that had been their faces, ignoring the squish and crunch of breaking bones.
(gory warning) /// not sure if you care or not, but I put the warning anyway
Lucas noted her somewhat brutal fighting style. Anything he could do to further research the long forgotten hero was legendary to him— being basically a fanboy himself. He had finally come to terms with that characteristic, trying to deny it for many years. Though everyone he knew described him that way. The biggest fan of the greatest hero. Well, greatest in his opinion.
He shot out a few more knives, his body much more relaxed. He kept them all at a far off distance, not bothering to let them get any closer. He wasn’t really a “flying colors in close combat” kind of person, but didn’t mind a bloodstain on his clothes here and there. As long as the blood wasn’t his.
Just for the sake of it, he let a racer get closer. Taking out a few on the far end, he turned his attention to the one on hand. He took out two subsequent daggers, his own blood running through their engravings. A mechanic he had invented himself. The handles would stick needles into his skin, automatically drawing his blood to infuse the daggers. Thus, why he could do this:
Within an instant, Lucas spun around, bandana still tightly woven around his eyes. As he slashed down, he teleported the blade of the daggers through the racer’s chest, watching as the two blades stuck out of its back. No wounds plagued the front of it, but the thick metallic fluid spilled from its back. Lucas flipped the daggers, the end of the hilts still in his hand, yanking them back out with all the force he could muster. Bits of the racer’s tough skin and flesh went airborne, bouncing off of his own arms harmlessly. Though, the blood dotted his face and blindfold, like a diminutive constellation of crimson. He spun the blades in his hands, watching it’s lifeless body fall to the floor. Lucas sheathed the two daggers, wiping the alien’s blood from the side of his mouth.
(The more gore, the better!)
A Racer charged toward her, and Ellowyn flashed out of view, darting to the side. But the creature seemed to predict her every move, and she cursed. A Finder. No matter that she was invisible, it would find her. She would have a tough time defeating it, as it could read her every thought.
But then a knife came from out of nowhere and stabbed it in the chest, killing the Finder, and then leaving. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. So maybe it was a good thing that the guy was helping her.
She sprang back into action, the tent pole a blur of motion. She slammed it into one of the heads, and it caved in with a crunch, blood spraying everywhere, the brains splattering all over Ellowyn's new clothes. She scowled. This was not her favorite, having to get dirty. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and rammed the end of the pole through another Racer's chest, blinking out of view and leaving the pole in.
She looked around, and noticed that there were only a few of the creatures left. Bodies littered the market grounds.
(Do you want to continue the roleplay? Or do you mind if I do a reboot with someone else?)
