Bee's jacket fluttered as the wave as energy hit him.

"That's quite the display, for something from a kid's game." he said blankly.

"But I've fought way tougher than chumps like you. So! Put your good clothes on!" Bee dropped his attache case and stabbed the Master Sword into the ground, and took a step forward in front of them. With a flourish, he drew Korbo, and rested the blade on her shoulder. A sweet fragrance filled his nostrils. Even on an opponent like this, he wanted to make this sword sing.

"It's time to dance the deadly dance of death."

_Dragonfly stance._ Bee's left hand gripped the pommel, the pinkies wrapping tightly while the pointers stayed in a loose, aloof grip. The man in the black suit dashed headlong towards the warlock, a grin splitting his cheeks. The blade shot out in an arc, targeting the clasps and cords holding the armor in place. Bee knew too well how Darknuts and the like worked. Armor was how you revealed the weak point, if it wasn't already obvious.

He sheathed his sword coolly, and spoke aloud.
"Looks like we know who wears the pants around here: not you."