[color=#C2B280][b]Noya - Listen Up, Listen Up, There's a Devil in the Church[/b][/color]
[i]Remnant, Mt. Megiddo Grand Hall // Interacting With: For convenience I've done my @s by section[/i]
[hr][hr]
Noya could feel the gears of the online bureaucracy slowly grinding his soul into dust. Jury duty in real life was bad, but at least there was that element of mystery to it. No, this spectacle laid bare before «The Brotherhood» was little more than a farce, a glorified circlejerk with a foregone conclusion. After all you can't really say "oops, my bad" and get a "k bro ur cool" after you kill a dozen people just for slighting you. That said, the expectation of Hikaru's execution was like the promise of food and beverage after a long, boring meeting, and he was already here, so he might as well stay for the long haul. 

Noya leaned back into his seat, edging it precariously close to tipping over much to the chagrin of whoever was behind him. The cut and thrust of rhetoric was less important in his mind than the ramifications of this event. All this talk about ideals smelled like the makings of a martyr to him. Personally, instead of executing the bugger, he would've had him shipped off to the KOB to do with as they please. Less risk of a schism, a good show of faith, and an emphasis on the consequences of breaking the status quo. 

At any rate, the ramblings of the wannabe-revolutionary did little to sway Noya's increasingly abyssmal opinion. Hikaru continued to demonstrated a clear lack of planning and tact on his part.  Murdering everyone who opposes you just leads to sycophants, stagnation, and a motley crew of heroic villagers with plot armor coming to overthrow you. Bread and circuses with a side of black helicopters and secret police, now [i]that[/i] was where it was at. 

But to each their own. 

[color=#C2B280]"Poor Glowstick,"[/color] the bastard remarked, safe beneath the shroud of anonymity, [color=#C2B280]"So insecure about himself that he needs to overcompensate. Most normal folks would've just bought a Hummer."[/color] Then he eyed Hikaru as he moved to draw his blade. [color=#C2B280]"...Or maybe a particularly long sword...?"[/color] Noya raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, setting his chair back on all four legs as a sense of morbid curiosity began growing in his core. A duel here? Maybe this court hearing was gonna be a lot more entertaining than he'd expected.

[color=#C2B280][i]'What.'[/i][/color]

Suddenly, the red glow of fading hitpoints shined from the throat of Right Hand, quickly ending the player's life and satisfying Noya's curiosity (albeit maybe not how he had expected it to). As grim as it was, he was reminded of that anecdote from the 19th century about a doctor who had performed a surgery with a 300% mortality rate. Immediately the Faceless Bastard threw himself and the chair backwards, just in time to avoid the enraging light of Hikaru's glitched «Spiritual Light» skill. As the flare consumed the grand hall, leaving only a flashbang-esque ring and Hikaru's speech about oppression in his ears, Noya had only a single thought going through his head:

[color=#C2B280][i]'God, I[/i] hate [i]social justice warriors.'[/i][/color]
[hr]
[color=#C2B280]"Well [i]someone's[/i] certainly taking that whole 'rage against the dying of the light' thing a bit too seriously." [/color]

The blond's eyes locked on the man who had been seated behind him, gauging the player's state of mind from his position strewn out on the ground. He held «Mumei» at his side, hand firmly on the hilt, prepared to draw the blade at any moment. [color=#C2B280]"You gonna do that too, my guy?"[/color] The red cloaked ruffian equipped a particularly large sword and raised it skyward, looking all the world like an executioner. Noya sighed, tensing his muscles in preparation for his next move. [color=#C2B280]"Well okay then."[/color] He threw his legs over himself, kicking the chair out from underneath the maddened player and, for a brief second, unsteadying his form. The momentary pause was all he needed to finish his roll, draw «Mumei» like an ice pick, and carve a straight, vertical red line from his opponent's groin to solar plexus. 
[centre][b][color=red]DEAD[/color][/b][/centre]
Now back on two feet, the faceless bastard sheathed his aesthetically-inappropriate blade and took stock of the situation. [color=#C2B280][i]'Implying I need a «Hate» effect to want to kill all my coworkers.'[/i][/color] He rolled his eyes. Still, this conflict still left a bad taste in his mouth. It had no sense. No intimacy. No style. It was just a mass of chaos and violence. He took the pause in the battle to unequip the «Regent of the Masquerade» and get his equipment in order. Anonymity was fine and dandy, but anyone with right sense would have unequipped their Regent in favor of more practical garb. And since he wasn't what one would call a melee supercombatant', he didn't want to become more of a target than he already was. Briefly he considered using «Smoking Mirror» to assume the form of someone like Nyx or Ramiela, but the intimidation factor of turning into a Brotherhood heavy hitter would be lost on the hateful - and there was always that off-chance that he might become one of [i]their[/i] targets instead.

The thought of fighting either sent shivers down his spine. 

But there were better things to think about right now. Like the group of rough-looking red capes that had assembled around him. He registered them speaking - no doubt saying something disparaging about his person or how he had wronged them by killing their friend or whatever - but paid little mind to the actual content of their words. From his analysis of their actions, he could tell they were uneasy about something, but still riled up as a result of the «Hate» status effect.

Then it hit him.

[color=#C2B280]"Ah, that's right. You guys don't know my Breaker."[/color] The blond leaned forward, his bangs casting his face in shadow as a wide grin spread across his youthful face. While «The Faceless Bastard» was most definitely his epithet, it wasn't [i]his[/i] epithet, strictly speaking. To most people, he was just no-name Noya. He began laughing madly. [color=#C2B280]"Well then, let me show you."[/color] He rested his hand on the hilt of his blade and stepped back with one leg. [color=#C2B280]"...As a gift to those about to die."[/color]

He inhaled sharply - a quiet action that seemed to have resonated within each of his opponents. The air was static. The sounds of battle around them were muted against the defeaning silence. 

It was fast. 

It was powerful. 

It was unexpected. 

It was a [i]jump[/i]. 

He landed behind his opponents, a cheeky grin on his face as multiple avenues of escape were laid bare to him. [color=#C2B280]"Unfortunately I've got better things to do than get into a fight with you guys,"[/color] he called back, casting «Raijin Shuriken» into the crowd of assailants for good measure, [color=#C2B280]"Maybe next time 'round!"[/color] Between the mass melee in the grand hall and the edgelord with delusions of grandeur, Noya trusted his chances of survival with the latter. Therefore, it was only natural for him to prioritize escape over all things at the moment. Unfortunately for Noya, he wasn't so lucky with triggering the «Stun» effects on his opponents so now all he had to show for his efforts was an angry mob chasing him around the hall.

[color=#C2B280]"Oh boy."[/color]

Normally he'd be fine with this arrangement, but the longer he spent here was more time that Hikaru could escape (not to mention more time to attract an even bigger crowd of undesirables). As he jumped, ran, and slid in the direction of the exit, he began going through plans to shake these people. His eyes locked on the trio of apparently sane players grouped around each other. Rami-neechan, not-Hephaestus, and his boss' wife - as good a combination of people as any, he supposed. He leapt next to them and quickly explained his plight: 

[color=#C2B280]"Sorry to interrupt folks, but I'm not all that suited to mass-melee, so unfortunately I've gotta leave these guys to you,"[/color] he gestured behind himself, sidestepping the group to quickly transit into a run, [color=#C2B280]"Don't worry about the traitor; I'll see to breaking the Glowstick myself."[/color]

He gave a quick salute, and promptly ran off.

[center][b][@Celaira][@Shadow Daedalus][@RyoRyoRyoken] // Kill:Death Ratio: 1:0[/b][/center]
[hr]
[color=#C2B280]"Ohohoho. Now [i]what[/i] do we have here?"[/color]

From the doorway to the Mt. Megiddo Grand Hall stood a figure draped in the crimson «Regent of the Masquerade». Even from under the concealment of the red cloak, both parties would feel a perverse gaze cross them. [color=#C2B280]"Leave some room for Jesus, lovebirds. Don't you two know that this is basically a cathedral?"[/color] He put a hand up to his mouth. [color=#C2B280]"Plenty of body and blood to go around in there if you wanna purge your sinful ways."[/color] He moved a hand to his hip. [color=#C2B280]"But damn dude, if you wanna turn people over to your side, you gotta do it with a bit more finesse,"[/color] he gave an exaggerated head-shake of disapproval, [color=#C2B280]"Turning guildmates against each other is what most people would call 'a total dick move bro'."[/color] He airquoted that part. [color=#C2B280]"Can appreciate the whole light and dark angle you've got going on. Very aesthetic. Does the username emphasize that fragment of good in your dark heart, just waiting to be released by a little lovin' from a cute girl?"[/color]

There was a pause, and in that pause he directed his gaze to the wall where Espio the Sky King was hidden. He said nothing about it and shrugged. 

[color=#C2B280]"Oh right, I ought to introduce myself."[/color]

The «Regent of the Masquerade» was tossed into the air. For a moment, the speaker was concealed by red and shadow, but as the cloak fluttered to the ground, all was laid bare. That voice. That face. That shit-eating grin. It was all Hikaru's. But wait, Hikaru was already over there by Nyx. That could mean only one thing: the sudden appearance of this second Hikaru could only be... 

[color=#C2B280]"Woo~OO~oo~~I'm~YO~ur~consc~IENCE~"[/color] 'Hikaru' spoke in a high-pitched vibrato, like he was some cheap ghost from a kindergartener's Halloween haunted house. The whole farcical display was complete with jazz hands emphasizing how completely serious he was about this. Indeed, all signs pointed to the conclusion that this was not a supernatural apparition, and instead just [i]that one asshole[/i].

They knew the one. That motherfucker. That piece of shit. [i]Everyone[/i] knew the one, even if they didn't know his real face.

[color=#C2B280]"Your~sOUL~is~TAINted~and~there~IS~Only~one~wAY~out~!"[/color]

The bastard's voice dropped into Hikaru's regular cadence as the thing wearing his face clasped his hands in prayer.

[color=#C2B280]"Death! Now if you would kindly kill yourself to save us all the trouble of a prolonged boss fight, that'd be dandy." [/color]

[center][b][@Volenvradica][@OneWayOut] // Moods Killed: 1[/b][/center]