Richter heeded Shattercrash's words with just the slightest pause.

Ironsides was tough, to be sure, but even the strongest metals had a breaking point. And with his power, finding what that point was and taking advantage of it would be a breeze. Briefly, he wondered what would happen to the person under all of that metal once he started destroying it—if there even was one. He never bothered to ask whether the transformation was just skin deep or more extensive, but it was too late for that. He had no intention of stopping now regardless. It still begged the question though—would he be able to take Ironsides down without killing or crippling him if it was the latter? Probably not; he didn't have [i]that[/i] much confidence in his control. But even if he did fail, what would it matter? It wasn't like the guy didn't deserve it.

Sucks to suck.

Despite his morbid thoughts, Richter didn't pause in his advance. He moved quickly, taking advantage of the fact that Ironsides was still off-balance from Shattercrash's attack and ignoring the ground shaking beneath his feet. It didn't affect him, after all. With his left arm outstretched, his fingertips almost made contact with the mercenary's costume.

He felt it disintegrate beneath his touch, falling apart into a billion minuscule pieces, and he grinned. That feeling was always a bit of a rush. It almost made it worth it. Almost.

Now, for the rest of him.

Ironsides was not alarmed by the sight of his Liquid Metal going up in fragments. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rather, he [i]laughed[/i] at Richter, and swung his arms in the boy’s direction. Sure enough, there was a gaping hole in the liquid that was quickly being filled in as more was generated. Blobs of the stuff sloshed off of his arms into the air, threatening to rain down onto Richter.

Meanwhile, Shattercrash was running around the back to flank Ironsides.

Decree’s voice suddenly blared to life on the public address system the moment Ironsides was about to swing his arms. 

[color=faca20][b]"Throw a left hook to the boy’s left side!"[/b][/color] Boomed the disembodied voice. 

It would be rather easy for Richter to work out, through how Decree’s power worked, that this would cause Ironsides to subconsciously attack in the same manner as her words. In essence, she was giving them a running forecast of all of Ironsides’ attacks. Even if Ironsides tried to resist, he’d have to take time to think of a new attack, and those valuable few moments would give them a window.

Decree continued to watch the fight from the monitors in the teller’s office, taking note of Shattercrash’s change of position, and that Richter’s attacks were making metal rain down. That could be trouble.

[i]Well, that was less than effective.[/i]
Ironsides might have been covered in metal, but its liquid nature made actually damaging him more difficult than expected. Richter had never quite gotten the hang of sending vibrations through liquids. It felt weird in a way he couldn’t quite describe. He made a note to rectify that after this. It was a failure on his part to have not done so before.
It was raining metal now. None of it would be able to touch him, but he wasn’t going to take hits he didn’t have to, especially when he wasn’t familiar with the properties of Ironsides power. Richter bobbed and weaved between the rain of liquid metal to avoid getting hit, a slight grimace of annoyance on his face. It seemed as if half-hearted attacks wouldn’t work here; he had to hit him harder. And that meant he needed to get closer again.
Easier said than done.
A sudden voice almost made him lose focus, but Ironsides wasn’t as lucky. For some reason, he was following what the voice said. It was as if–[i]oh[i]. So, that’s what it was like in action. Interesting.
Well, scratch that last thought, then. Decree intervened at the perfect time.
The mercenary’s swing went wide, missing Richter by a mile and giving him the chance to counter, which he took without hesitation. This time he made sure to aim higher.
He should’ve gone for the head in the first place.
Ironsides was smarter than that. As his fist went left, the back of his hand went right in a heavy, power-supported bitchslap. He took a wide step forward, and Richter’s strike ended up hitting Ironsides in the chest, right as his massive hand was closing in to smack him silly.

This was the point when a quick flare of violet light shone behind him, as Shattercrash leapt into the air to drive her foot into the villain’s temple. Rather than clock Richter into the ground, his strike went over the boy’s head. 

Decree’s brow furrowed as she watched the monitor. He took her command in stride. Of course, they were dealing with pros, after all. She needed to think bigger. A choice that would give them a more tangible advantage if telegraphed. She pressed the intercom button again.

[color=faca20][b]"Turn to face the girl behind you."[/b][/color]

Sure enough, Ironsides stopped dead a [i]hair[/i] before his hand made contact with Richter’s face. His body twisted around and his face met a neon-glowing knee to the face.

Bits of liquified metal splattered outwards, and Ironsides barely flinched.

Shattercrash, not fully balanced, was smacked like a balloon and hurtled into a wall. There was a flash of pink light that cushioned her impact slightly and allowed her to fall in one piece.

[color=silver]”You kids really think you’re something, don’t you?”[/color] He asked, taunting them.
Richter barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at Ironsides’s words. These types were always fond of running their mouths, especially when someone like him was involved.
His hands snapped upwards, clutching the mercenary’s wrist. Solid or otherwise, everything had a breaking point. He hadn’t been able to find Ironsides’ before, but Decree’s most recent intervention gave him the chance. Now in direct contact with his “body“, Richter had an easier time with things, sending vibrations from palm to palm, bouncing them back and forth to intensify them by the moment. His mind ran through all the necessary calculations, adjusting his field all the while.
It didn’t usually take this long to find something’s resonance frequency, but then, he’d never fought someone made of liquid metal before either.
Decree felt her whole body tense as she watched the fight unfold. Had Richter got him? Was it over? Had she helped?
Metal splattered onto the walls and sprayed everywhere as it was ripped apart, leaving their surroundings defaced. Richter got him good with that one, but he would be able to realize quite quickly that Ironsides’ protection had an ablative element to it. In simpler terms, the more he destroyed, the more appeared, like the neck of a hydra. It was as if there was no end to the silvery substance that Ironsides’ power could produce, and all of it seemed to slither inwards and around Richter’s hands.
Even as it did so, it was being eaten away at an alarming rate, while more of it coalesced into a puddle at their feet.
One could hear the smile in his voice. [color=silver]”Bad move, brat.”[/color]
In the blink of an eye, the two fell through the puddle of metal. To Richter, it would feel like being dragged deep underwater. There was nothing but a pale void around him, and not an atom of oxygen to breathe. Yet just as that became a problem, Richter would find himself flying back to reality again, dragged out by Ironsides. They had been teleported through one metal puddle to another, only a few feet away from their starting point. And they were falling.
Ironsides slammed Richter into the floor, propelled by the force of travelling through the puddles.
Shattercrashed charged to knock Ironsides off of him, but he flicked his wrist and tripped her over with a splash of metal.
Decree’s voice caught in her throat. What should she say? Nothing was going the way she imagined. Every command she’d tried so far, Ironsides had been able to take in stride. She needed to think. There must be something she could say right now that wouldn’t make things worse. She tried to rack her brain, but she was too panicked to hold a train of thought for more than a second.
[color=silver]”You [i]heroes[/i] don’t get it. Do you?”[/color] Isonsides asked. [color=silver]”You can’t beat people like me.”[/color]
[i]Well, shit.[/i]
This was bad.
Richter knew this would be a pain. Fighting someone who wanted to kill him with no weapons and barely any intel was a plan doomed to fail from the start.
The metal coating Ironsides seemed to have no end to it. It flowed over his hands even as it was being ripped apart, and he tried not to think about what would have happened if his field wasn’t there. It kept the mercenary from actually touching him, but that didn’t stop his head from ringing when he was slammed into the floor from nearly a full storey up.
[i]Cyka![/i]
Despite everything, Richter wasn’t overly shaken. He wasn’t out for the count just yet either; he still had a few tricks up his sleeve, and while he was never one to rush results, he might not have a choice. He didn’t particularly fancy trying some of the options he was considering. Especially since one of them would probably–no, [i]definitely[/i] kill most everyone in the building, so that was right out. For now.
Well.... if it came down to kill or be killed, all bets were off, though. What was a little pain if it meant walking out alive?
This whole hero thing didn’t suit him, anyway.
In spite of himself, Richter couldn’t help but clench his teeth and roll his eyes at Ironsides’s little tirade. Kids this, heroes that. He must have really liked the sound of his own voice. So annoying.
[colour=silver]“Do you ever shut up?”[/colour]
Anyway, it was time for him to do something about this situation he found himself in. Richter raised his left arm above his head, fingers extended and palm flat, and with barely a second of thought, a series of high-frequency vibrations started around the edge of his hand. At first glance, it appeared as if his hand was vibrating. Of course, that wasn’t exactly the case; such a thing was still a bit beyond him. All he was doing was using some applied physics he’d only ever seen once. In a videogame.
What was that game’s name again? Ah, whatever, he’d figure it out later.
He brought it down to sever the mercenary’s hand at the wrist with a speed that surprised even him.
Silver mixed with red, and bits of what was probably armor. Richter’s vibration chop did [i]something.[/i] But unfortunately, the hand was still attached.
Ironsides howled, and it was like a bear roaring. With his other hand, he slugged Richter across the face, grabbed him by the throat, and flung him into the wall.
[color=silver]”If you’re going to fight in this city, then you better have something stronger than that!”[/color] He shouted, his damaged hand going limp. [color=silver]”You’re weak! You’re just [i]kids![/i] Go home, run to your families and forget about this! What makes you think you have a chance against people like me?!”[/color]
[color=gold]”Because we said so.”[/color]
Ironsides almost didn’t register that voice. He almost didn’t turn around, but then he recognized it a split second later. And his blood ran cold all of a sudden. It couldn’t be.
The metallic giant turned around and laid eyes on a cape in solid steel armor evocative of knights. Gleaming gold crested his shoulders in the shape of palisades, trailing down to gauntlets that looked like they were sculpted from the scales of dragons. Spikes jutted out from his boots, which were wrapped up in a strange, warm glow.
He wore a helmet that had only darkness behind its visor, wreathed in a crown of swooping lines. Hanging off of his shoulders was a cape of royal blue, tattered and frayed at the ends with battle damage.
Hellstar.
Ironsides didn’t move.
[color=silver]”Hey- [i]Hey[/i] now, what are [i]you[/i] doing here? They benched you. They- Fuck-“[/color] He took a step back, as Hellstar took a step forward. Then another, and another still.
[color=gold]”Let me make your situation perfectly clear, [i]Ironsides.”[/i][/color] He walked forward with ominous serenity, the air in the lobby sparked as his hands swept past it. 
[color=gold]”You just tried to kill a Ward of the city, and you’re robbing a bank,”[/color] he explained, while Ironsides kept walking back. [color=gold]”And you’ve [i]seriously[/i] pissed me off.”[/color]
[color=silver]”Get- Back up, you son of a bitch!”[/color] Ironsides barked, and his voice was devoid of all the bravado he had ten seconds ago. [color=silver]”This doesn’t involve you!”[/color]
[color=gold]”It does now.”[/color]
[color=silver]”Fuck-Fuck-Fuckfuckfuck-“[/color]