Thinly disguising his disinterest, Souta allowed Otsune to join Sevrin, Lady, and Mary with the paper-pushing, instead pulling out a sketchpad to get to work.  Few but the manufacturers themselves knew the process of Devil Arm design, and it lived up to the mantle of professional blacksmithery in complexity of technique.  Many imagined that a demon or angel’s soul could only be coaxed into a single shape that represented the original owner completely, but that did not have to be the case.  When contained in a Soul Jar, the essence of the slain being could be maintained while frames for specific weapons could be built, which the souls would then serve as capstones for.  The natural weapon-form of an angel or demon typically represented the best way it could function, but through careful analysis better still weapon-forms could be discovered, and in this particular instance Souta knew that a rocket launcher would suit his demonic subject perfectly.  Even still, he could not afford to be lazy in the design of said rocket launcher.

So intently focused was he that it only seemed to be a few seconds before his sister roused him, and after packing up he joined her in departing.  The two moved quickly through the downpour, though to the naked eye there only appeared to be one.  Otsune patiently directed him toward the location where the other Gilgamesh operatives would be dropped in, and by the time they stationed themselves under an awning the sound of a helicopter could already be heard.  The black vehicle crested the top of an incoming wall of mist and came to a stop almost directly overhead.  Roping flew out of its sides like tentacles extending from a creature of the deep, and the reinforcements quickly made their way down.

The first, massive [url=http://img03.deviantart.net/fc70/i/2015/236/2/b/btmo_2_by_zoonoid-d96y7tt.jpg]man[/url] received a chuckle from Souta.  [color=teal]”Hey, it’s Babyfingers!  How are your little baby fingers, bro?”[/color]  

Holding them up for a flex, the jolly giant laughed.  “Small and puny, but just right for my cannon.  I really hope that your nickname doesn’t stick.  ‘Horace’ suits me much better.”

A [url=http://orig12.deviantart.net/08d8/f/2015/301/9/d/z1_900_by_bamuth-d9eqvas.jpg]woman[/url] in white landed next to him, and focused her attention on unslinging her mace, as if the demons threatened to invade just now.  With her around, Souta saw no reason to continue conversation with Horace.  Though a deadly warrior and a loyal comrade, Ell radiated shyness and social awkwardness, which combined with her obvious beauty to make Souta nuts for her.  Ell said nothing, only looking around fearfully with her single visible eye.  The next [url=http://pre05.deviantart.net/e6ec/th/pre/i/2013/265/d/2/rebellion_recon_by_eyardt-d6newmg.jpg]operative[/url] came just as quietly, save for the clunks of his weaponized left arm.

“Geronimo!”  A shout rang out across the street as the last [url=http://img03.deviantart.net/64ff/i/2012/086/a/d/warrior_by_penett-d4u4cbw.jpg]soldier[/url] of Gilgamesh leaped from the helicopter, ignoring the rope dropped for him.  He landed heavily, but stood up instantly, and with a smile on his face.  Directing it toward Otsune, he rumbled, “Atlas reporting for duty, ma’am.  Ready to crack some skulls.”

Otsune blinked.  She’d been staring at the horizon –or what little a view of it Barlour’s skyline could afford- with a pensive frown.  [b]”Good,”[/b] she whispered after a moment.  [b]”You may need to sooner than you think.”[/b]

[center]-=-=-[/center]

Even as the rain fell unabated, a new front rolled through Barlour City.  It prickled the skin, causing goosebumps to form in self-defense, and kissed with freezing lips the fingers and ears of every pedestrian.  Mist followed dutifully on this new weather’s heels, sweeping steadily down the streets in great drifts like ethereal, crashing waves trapped in slow motion.  To an ordinary person, nothing could be said to be unusual, yet this cold front felt not just unpleasant, but wrong.  

With an unremarkable but nevertheless urgent haste the humans of Barlour City returned to their homes or places of work, and behind them they locked the doors.  No extraordinary compulsion forced them to abandon the urban sprawl’s streets; they merely wished to escape the biting winds and stinging, chilled rain of the coming storm.  Not a one knew how right he or she was: a storm was coming.

No…the storm had come.

As an ashen tide a new bank of nebulous black fog flowed in from the west.  Rather than an all-enveloping shroud, it condensed into a large but singular mass, moving steadily across main street.  The smoky fumes billowed over the hoods of cars, slithered around streetlights and signs, and scratched against windows as it passed.  It moved, too ominous and deliberate to by anywhere near natural, toward the city center—Memorial Park.

Silky laughter escaped the malevolent cloud as it drew new Memorial Park.  Within the swirling black, flickers of red and blue could be spotted, but nothing definitive.  At its head walked a single distinguishable shape: a woman, clad in a revealing pink qipao and bearing in hand a sheathed swordblade.  Through the pouring rain she strode, her features totally calm but radiating intense purpose nonetheless.  Her hair swing from side to side and she brusquely strode forth, and her drenched flesh gleamed with a sultry luster in the light of passing buildings.  

The core of Memorial Park, and the epicenter of Barlour City, was a monument dedicated to the city’s founder: Frederick Anatole, a man of legendary creativity and curiosity.  It depicted him leaning against a tree, with his faithful dog sitting beside him, all out of bronze.  Around it lay a ring of metal grates, through which little fountains of water would shoot upward, and in which children would play in warmer days.  The woman in pink approached the statue, the dark cloud directly behind, and after a moment pointed her weapon toward the nearest grate.  From the haze darted two floating shapes, their bizarre red heads resting on streaming black cloaks, and they extended spearlike fingers to reach through and then lift up the grate.  [color=E0115F]”Go,”[/color] she murmured, and the cloud belched forth a squad of Hideous, which rushed down into the dark tunnels to begin the descent.

The race for the second seal was on.