[H3][color=gray]The Dreadnaughts[/color][/h3][hr]

By time Lihua made it to the armory, Baron was already making attempts at disguising his heavy breathing. Very slow but very deep breaths, though he no matter how often his chest slowly heaved, he didn't seem to be giving himself enough air.

"Ah... Christ... Christ almighty, that was quite a jog..."

With his bad leg, he limped inside the armory and let the automatic doors close behind him. He sat himself on a bench and pulled up his dress pants, revealing the black mechanical brace underneath. The mechanism wasn't massive, too cumbersome and heavy - though its encumbrance by weight alone meant almost nothing when its purpose was to keep his knee from moving. He pressed his hands over his leg, squeezing his eyes shut, and then tightening the brace over his leg. He made an inaudible growl to vent the discomfort. He looked up at his allies. [i]'Damn,'[/i] he thought, [i]'I didn't think I'd have to move this much this fast today.'[/i]

But he had to hand Lihua some credence - she was quite the sight with that power of hers. Damn scary. She turned the hallway into a meat processing plant back there, with no two thoughts about mutilating those Fiends beyond recognition. Between all the brutalities and explosions, it brought back memories of Paraguay. Only... slightly tamer.

The NEST agent turned around and asked him to pick up anything he might need here. Baron took a look around - all good equipment, to be sure. But he was no warrior like many of the other Dreadnaughts and like the NEST agents. "I'm already equipped with all I need. A suit and a charming smile." Baron joked - though it wasn't very convincing given his shortness of breath. His smile degenerated into a solemn expression soon after. From out of his coat, he withdrew his Caracal C and briefly checked the magazine. He said, "don't worry about me right now, you need to focus on pacifying this storm of madness."

As if to prove his point, he parted his dress coat and revealed a bullet hole damaging his dress shirt, right under his left shoulder. There was no blood, however, and as he pulled down his shirt, there was what appeared to be armor. Not like the typical bullet-proof vest as this was thinner than regular protection; closer to the skin. "This might bruise a bit later, but otherwise I'm... what the hell?"

Baron was staring out the door of the armory, and a familiar young man with a long rifle on his back, a big revolver in his holster, and an AK-47 running up the stairs towards where all the commotion was. Grit! What was that crazy fool doing here?

Baron looked to Lihua with surprise and a hint of worry. "Was that Grit?"

[hr]

Grit sprinted up the stairs as fast as he could. He could've swore he just saw this suspicious person - neither Dreadnaught nor wearing the agent regalia, blur up the stairs as fast as a Kenyan or something. Weaving through the bodies in the halls, the absurd deformation made on the building by various powers, and planting his back against the wall around every block to be sure he didn't run into the hail of fire. Poking his head around the corner, he met face to face with a Fiend who had apparently the same idea Grit had!

He reflexively spun around the corner, sweeping his leg across the ground from behind his adversary's feet. The Fiend slipped onto the ground, the back of their masked head smacking against the floor just before Grit smashed their face with the butt of his acquired AK. Grit stood up with his back against the wall and took a deep breath.

"Aye, aye, aye... that there was too close for comfort... I prefer at least [i]some [/i]distance!"

He heard some footsteps down the hall. [i]'Shucks, another one!'[/i] This prompted Grit to retreat back behind the corner of the wall and keep just his head poked out the other side. A tall, middle aged man donned in body armor from head to toe was hunting through the halls, and heavily armed. If he looked at him in just a hair of a second, he might've confused him for Baron - but this man was more muscular, stronger. He didn't look like a NEST agent, but he certainly wasn't a Fiend. This wasn't the person who rushed up the stairs, was it? Maybe it was best if Grit decided to stalk this person, just to be sure.

After all, if he was good at one or two things, shootin' and concealing himself were sure to be some of 'em.