Quiet exhaled deeply, causing the throbbing pain in his abdomen to recede slightly. His vision now totally restored, the psuedo-SOLDIER would rush towards his assailant, feet pounding against the patchwork ground of the Wall Market.
He slows slightly when Zef puts his hands up. A mistake; the inky Blind spell would surge forth from one of the thief's wrists. The blow to Quiet's private parts had slowed his reactions somewhat. He managed to block the spell with his blade, but the inky spread of the vision-obscuring magic rushed around the edges of his blade and into his face.
"I'm going to f***ing slaughter you," the now supremely irritated Avalanche warrior shouted out to the receding Zef.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold it Mr. Brickhouse!" Halwen yelled, chasing after him as he barrelled towards Zef. A blind guy waving his big weird sword around a crowded Wall Market street was a recipe for a disaster. And as much as he'd love to see his would-be mugger get a thrashing, he wasn't sure he wanted him to get split in half.
"Let me get the bastard."
Aiming his beatbox glove at Zef, Halwen started tapping in the notes to the Dream Harp, plucking away at thin air, each note making a musical ripple of light wobble outward. Soon the glove took complete control, the biomechanical snitch-chip kicking his brain into his hand, his fingers spreading wide as the song washed out at the fleeing Zef in a kaleidoscope of psychedelic colors. ""Nighty nite, $#*@!" Halwen yelled.
And the shining star on the edge of Halwen's mind became the song, and it was there, and it filled him, and it shone outward, pouring out of his hand, a deep magic that flowed outward like the waves of an ocean. Tides of sleep poured out at Zef Naaiers , slumbery and warm. Those caught in its tide began to stagger and slow, blinking confusedly and yawning hugely.
Dream Harp used to try to make Zef very very sleepy. (does this drain my ATB)?
As he pushed through the crowd he heard the man’s threat and picked up his pace before he heard a strange melody. His eyes began to flutter while he walked, and his pace began to slow. He yawned into his sleeve.
Had he been drinking this morning? He couldn’t quite remember. He looked over his shoulder at the group of other citizens who were yawning alongside him. His gaze turned back to the angry man as he watched the cloud around his eyes start to dissipate once again.
He pulled his gun out, but didn’t bother to aim much in his stupor. He squeezed the trigger in Halwen’s general direction, and a spray of bullets came that way. If he hit it would have just been luck. Quiet Halwen Breeve Nope. Limit breaks don't take anything!
Last Edit: May 2, 2020 23:12:29 GMT by Zef Naaiers
Mr Brickhouse held it. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to dispel the second Blind spell, and knew what Halwen asked was reasonable. He couldn't do much until the ache in his belly from Zef's punch subsided, and his vision returned.
"...Make sure it hurts," is all Quiet said, before the music began.
It wasn't aimed in his direction, but the warrior felt the power in the air, and as his eyes began to reveal the world, he saw the effect it had on Zef and those around him. Just who was this pink-haired kid?
A small smile slipped over Quiet's mouth, as he began to walk towards Zef, his blade resting hungrily in his hands.
Halwen flinched as bullets rattled his way, slicing through the slumbery slog of his song.
Covering his face with his hands, the tiny field infuser in Halwen's cheap Leather Bangle activated, meaning the bullets badly battered his body instead of tearing through it. Staggering backward from the impact and spitting out a wad of blood from where a bullet busted his lip, Halwen sank to the ground with a knee. The kinetic impact were spread across his entire body instead of at a point, meaning that instead of having five tiny holes torn through him he now felt like he'd been flogged thoroughly with a lead blanket.
Wavering, Halwen raised his gun, but stopped himself from firing. It was too crowded, and not everybody in the world wore a bangle.
Quiet was moving towards Zef Naaiers now, with revenge in mind. He was sure that the swordsman would fair better than he had.
Zef yawned and struggled to keep his eyes open, even as the fair haired zealot approached with his sword in hand. For a moment he nodded off, only to open his eyes again to see him getting into striking range.
“Let’s just take a breather, man” Zef said, clumsily flipping open his jacket. The people around him gasped and started diving for cover. He revealed a grenade that was hooked to the inner pocket, and he held onto a little wire that was attached to the pin. He blinked again, for too long. He didn’t have the reaction time he needed right now.
“You like hypers?” Zef asked Quiet desperately. “I’ve got the good stuff, why don’t ya just put that thing away? No need for things to get explosive.”
He was bluffing. But he wasn’t in a good condition to fight right now til he caught a nap. Hopefully this guy had a heart of gold and wouldn't put the bystanders at risk. [attr="class","fas fa-battery-quarter"] Exhausted: Exhausted (sometimes refereed to as sleepy) characters have their strength and speed hindered. If Magic Tier 2 sleep is cast on them they gain the Sleep condition.
Quiet approached Zef with a face contorted by fury. Every one of his footfalls hit the earth like a comet from outer space.
A perceptible combatant would notice a slight, strange aura billow up around the angered swordsman, a mako-green hue that matched the colour of his eyes. This would quickly dissipate from around his body, but intensified on and around his sword, which gleamed in sickly teal.
The thief backed up wearily, before revealing the grenade rigged to explode. Quiet stopped for a moment, considering the surroundings, the people around... before he continued to move towards Zef. "Your fault," is all he muttered, before raising the sword above his head and swinging down with all of his might, several metres from the conman.
A shimmering, furious wave of sickly-green energy erupted from the end of his swing, rushing through the air and towards Zef. Quiet had, with some restraint, blunted it's edge; it would crash into him like a car, but not cut him in half, should it connect.
He had some questions he wanted to ask.
Limit Break: Hyperion's Fury used in attempt to hurt and/or KO Zef!
Halwen slung his gun to his waist and clapped his hands to his face as Quiet went to carve Zef Naaiers up like a chocobo club sandwich. Why did everyone have to be violent around here? The sheriff in his quiet little county in Kalm Region didn't even carry a gun because he didn't need one, but in the slums of Midgar everyone was ready for blood.
Maybe I should have aimed my lullaby at the other guy Halwen, thought, fretting. Not knowing what to do, he rushed towards them both, yelling at them to stop fighting.
“Damn!” Zef said as the brute called his bluff. As the blade struck him his bangle also helped to reduce the damage of the blow, but even blunted it was enough to send Naaires flying to the ground.
As he blacked out and stumbled back the wire attached to the grenade came off and the pin was pulled. The grenade rolled onto the ground near Quiet, with some people still in a dangerous radius of it.
It was a dud. Closer inspection would reveal that the grenade was very old and had no explosive materials inside.
“Still hungry…” was the last thing he muttered as he slipped into unconsciousness.QuietHalwen Breeve
Last Edit: May 17, 2020 2:32:45 GMT by Zef Naaiers
The magical rush of energy crashed into Zef as intended. Quiet coolly watched the grenade roll towards him, his nostrils flaring as he tensed up and moved to roughly put his blade between him and the upcoming blast... which never came.
A few seconds after Quiet had calculated the grenade would explode, he dropped his defensive stance and paced towards the thief, his left eyebrow arched with a silent amusement. Quiet just about managed to catch Naaires' last words before he slipped out of consciousness. Hm.
A crowd was gathering. Drawn by the commotion and word-of-mouth, people were gathering to watch these magic-slinging fighters kick each other in the balls. Quiet didn't mind the attention, but he didn't much want to draw the ire of Shin-Ra troopers at this point, and a patrol might be nearby. It was time for a change of scene.
The hulking psuedo-SOLDIER easily hoisted the limp body of the thief over his left shoulder, gripping him with his arm while effortlessly holding his sword in the right. He glances back at Halwen, an almost-kindly smile playing on his lips.
"Get some food somewhere? I have a few questions to ask our friend, and you, and I don't think we should hang around here very long. Don't want any fascists comin' down on us."
He spat that word, fascists, like a bad taste had suddenly taken over his mouth.
Regardless of Halwen's answer, Quiet would start moving with some speed deeper into the Wall Market. If he could find some shady vendor with some smelling salts, might be he could rouse Zef back to consciousness. Might be the would-be thief could even get a bite to eat, if he could come to some arrangement with the warrior from Junon.
Wowed by Quiet's power and thankful that he didn't cut Zef Naaiers in half, Halwen turned up beside the strange swordsman after gathering his things, rushing to keep up as he started down the dark laneways of Wall Market.
"Food? you wanna eat now?"
Maybe this guy's power relies on a lot of calories.Rummaging in his coat, he produced a half-eaten bag of Auntie Marle's Original Gysahl Chips.
"Ohhh!" Halwen slapped himself on the forehead. "I get it. You want to bring him somewhere, for some quiet talk. Well, I don't own a restaurant or anything... but there's a pharmacy around the corner where you can pay with coupons -- the building on the right with the fat cat statue by the door. But If you don't have any coupons, that's alright. I have some money. I buy my deodorant there..." He trailed off, realizing he was starting to ramble. He couldn't help it. Quiet was cool, maybe as cool as Leonhardt.
Maybe I can tell him about AVALANCHE!
He seemed to hate cops -- called them the F-word -- that was always a good sign.
"There's a pretty good diner past that. I just had lunch there, but you know, I can always go for seconds." Looking up at Quiet , he reached out a hand, his slumtown guard utterly lowered. "I'm Halwen. Halwen Breeve. Friends call me Hal. I've played at some of the inns around this Sector, maybe you've heard me." He clapped the banjo case on his back. "Or maybe you don't like banjos, that's alright. Some people think it sounds too twangy. Do you think banjos sound too twangy?"
Last Edit: May 21, 2020 5:25:41 GMT by Halwen Breeve
Whilst hoisted on Quiet’s shoulder, Zef remained in a state of unconsciousness. In a state of dreaming, or in the case a nightmare…
He was being chased through the wall market by other men in suits, spraying towards him with sub-machine guns. He was wearing the same suit he wore today, before it had become a patchwork mess. The back riddled with little splotches of blood where the bullets had made contact. He was hauling a briefcase with him as he pushed through slum tourists.
Raising his own sub-machine gun that was still in shape he raised it up and fired back towards one of the goons, firing towards them with one hand wildly as he continued to flee.
“%#@$ Jack... %#@$ all of ya,” Zef muttered as spit dribbled down onto Quiet’s coat.
Last Edit: May 25, 2020 20:26:20 GMT by Zef Naaiers
Quiet glanced back at the pink-haired trickster and smiled, in spite of himself.
"Quiet," he responded, not clarifying whether that was his own name or if Halwen should stop talking about banjos. Probably both.
A couple of minutes later, the crowd thinned, the trio would reach the pharmacy. The clerk behind the counter raised a quizzical eyebrow at Zef's unconscious form, although did not take fright. Unconscious people weren't the most unusual site in the underplate. "Need something that might rouse him. Something stinky, preferably," Quiet muttered. The clerk nodded, wordlessly, before disappearing for a moment. Quiet glanced at Halwen. "Guess I don't mind banjos."
The pharmacist returned with something in a small tube. Quiet shrugged his shoulders, repositioning Zef, before reaching for the capsule and undoing the lid. He sniffed, then exhaled. Oh yeah. That was ripe. He slid over some gil across the counter with a nod, before exiting and continuing towards the diner Hal had indicated.
"You been here long?" He asked Hal without looking at him.
Halwen thought Quiet was telling him to be Quiet at first, but then he realized that was his name. "Nice to meetcha. I've uh, been here a couple of years now," He said evasively. He didn't think now was the right time to get into the whole Shin-Ra-lab-rat-turned-AWOL thing yet. Especially not with Zef around.
The pharmacists brought out some smelling salts or the like, and the supersoldier had Zef stirring to wakefulness in no time. Halwen had his banjo out of its case, holding it over the slumbery thief like an axe.
"Try anything funny and I'll bust this upside your head so fast you'll be playing the Midgar Blues with your teeth," Halwen warned Zef Naaiers, even though Quiet looked like he had it well in hand. "My friend here wants to ask you some questions."
Zef was roused from unconsciousness after he caught a whiff of the smelly salts.
The first thing that he did was sneeze into them without even attempting to cover his mouth, sending particles of the medicine into the air in accompaniment with spit and the slightest bit of power bar crumbs. Snot drooled from his nose and he looked at both Halwen and Quiet with a glazed over look.
"Wha- who are you people?" Zef said sounding confused. He hadn't forgotten the altercation but he wasn't about to play that card. "What questions? I don't know you. I gotta get back to my ma!" he fibbed as he squirmed to try to get free of Quiet.