[b][u]Jack vs Clown[/u][/b]

The Clown continued to run as the sounds of battle rang behind him. He gave a casual glance back to see how much longer he had before the Beacon student caught up to him. Jack's fist impacting with the Clown's face provided the answer to that question. The Clown fell back, grabbing at his mask where his nose would be. "Ow, ow, ow. That hurt," he said while rocking back and forth on the floor. Fearing another strike, he lifted his hands to block any further attacks to his face and shouter, "Timeout! Timeout! Timeout!" He then raised his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. "Just don't hit me again."

With his arms still raised, the Clown seemed to be prepared to follow Jack into custody. Suddenly, he shouted, "Close your eyes!" and kicked a nearby wall. He pulled his foot out of the wall, revealing a small canister inside. A burst of light revealed the canister to actually be a flashbang. It would be safe to assume that other, similar booby traps would be in store for anyone chasing the Clown. If Jack recovered quickly enough from the flash of light, he should be able to see, at most, three clowns running in opposite directions. Which he would follow was up to Jack.

[b][u]Luke vs Mordred[/u][/b]

As Luke continued to weave and dodge, Mordred was obviously getting more frustrated. The slashes of his sword that cause the projectile balls of fire began to come in a more rapid succession, but were going wild and missing their target more and more. It didn’t take long for Luke to finally close the gap between the two him and his opponent. Of course, this brought up a new problem. Mordred’s sword was obviously not a purely ranged weapon.

Once Luke had gotten close enough, Mordred swiped with his sword again, sending a fireball flying towards Luke’s face. Without much time between that strike and his next, he stabbed forward, hoping that Luke would try to duck under the fireball and roll right into Mordred’s awaiting sword.

[b][u]Robert: Post-Mission[/u][/b]

Robert sat quietly at the back of the Bullhead as it brought team RPGD back to Beacon. Anger was clearly painted across his face. It didn’t matter how many civilians they had saved, how many White Fang that had brought into custody, it didn’t even matter that everyone had come back in mostly one piece. In his mind, he’d failed. They had gotten away, just like the men that killed his parents and sister. They always got away, and there was never anything that he could do to stop them.

The red haired teen punched the metal wall in frustration, not even wincing at the pain he now felt. He sat back down in his seat. “Useless, stupid, screw up…” he mumbled to himself at an almost inaudible tone. Currently, Greyson’s profession of love to Priscilla earlier was the furthest thing from his mind as he continued the barrage of self-inflicted insults.