[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3162867][[u]Previous Post[/u]][/url] [center] [h3][url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2865517][u][b]TEAM MISCHIEF MAVEN[/b][/u][/url][/h3] [img]http://s5.postimg.org/nqdu4gvzr/ethan_badge.gif[/img][img]http://s5.postimg.org/86b1rob93/ilana_badge.gif[/img] [color=yellow]The Sciencer (1100)[/color] [color=#2E2C2C]---------------------[/color] [color=lawngreen]The Air Jew (500)[/color][/center] [hr] [i]'Those two...'[/i] Julie thought, taking in the image of team Mischief Maven with a rather despondent smile. Pleasantries would have to wait until later – if there even was a 'later.' Despite Ethan's constant dicking around, the Chrono and her husband understood him well enough; Underneath all that jovial demeanor coiled a strict, calculating mind of utter seriousness. Ilana would have to keep remembering that, Julie knew. That scowl in hunter's eyes proved it. Perhaps Ethan had gotten her worked up, knowing what was ahead. The Chrono glanced at Vail, Alistair, and Omari, then AJ, Kiara and Maeve as her brow furrowed. Their attacks, combined with the speedboat tactic, managed to grant them a minute respite from the Vile. [i]'This won't be enough,'[/i] she thought, taking advantage in order to brief Ethan and Ilana, and address their mental inquiries. [i]'But… is hope a stranger to me?'[/i] Julie locked eyes with Ilana and Ethan's odd glasses. Discipline fell into place as their personal affiliations were soldiered away. [i]'Keep the Vile at bay. If you can,'[/i] Julie telepathed to them, allowing the [b]other six[/b] to listen in. [color=yellow][i]'Yeh, you got it, hon,'[/i][/color] Ethan replied, missing the memo on personal affiliations. [color=lawngreen][i]'Understood, ma'am,'[/i][/color] Ilana nodded, cringing inwardly at her partner. [i]'Because I'm going to prepare for my Exceed,'[/i] Julie continued, glancing at the fiery carnage behind them. [i]'And put that stogie away!'[/i] The Chrono hissed at Ethan, causing him to nearly drop it out of his mouth. [color=yellow][i]'Yah, ain't heard no fat lady!'[/i][/color] he snapped to attention, which excited Ilana; her hairs even bristled. Julie then locked eyes with Alistair and Vail – the only other bonafide Asylums in this battle. The ground beneath her shoes rose, bringing her up onto some kind of hardened earthen pillar, about 3 meters high. A firm mental grip reassured their minds, impressing upon them the sheer weight of Ethan and Ilana's years of experience; that they should simply follow their lead without question. The chain of command established, she then knelt, the tips of her fingers touching the ground beside her for balance. Her eyes closed as she loosed a sigh pass her chapped lips. It was nothing personal, but it was difficult to trust them all . . . Inspired by Julie's rising pillar, the Sciencer smirked. [color=yellow][i]'We gonna do a Meteor-Cracker,'[/i][/color] Ethan said to Ilana and Julie's minds, the latter merely nodding whilst the former perspired with a bit of trepidation. [i][color=lawngreen]'With a delay, yes?'[/color][/i] Ilana asked him, to which he nodded. That was all she needed to know – Grimacing, Ilana burst off her feet with a clenched fist and gritted teeth, her entire body nearly gliding like a razor across the burning grass towards the Vile's regenerating mass. Her partner had to take a step back to avoid falling into a crevice she'd left. But it didn't bother him none. He was Ethan. No sooner than when she'd darted out, the Sciencer pulled a [i]motem[/i] of his own, by raising his right hand towards the two asylums and four students, as well as [i]hipping[/i] at them with his right hip. Six red lasers, barely seen except through bits of dust in the air, extended from tiny devices on each of his fingers (and hip) and made contact with their bodies somewhere – be it forehead, hand, chest, crotch, etc. And in that moment, [i]time[/i] seemed to have snailed down to slowly ticking milliseconds; Ilana's fist a few inches away from the Vile . . . [indent]The world around them blackened, as though light had been snuffed out. But the light was replaced, for endless legions of data from the terrain, lifeforms around them, each other, sans the Vile, lit everything up with a soft, captivating glow. [i]Equations[/i] flitted in between everything, changing as variables shifted and interacted with other complexities. Such a sight was not meant for the human mind. But just before this onslaught would fatally overwhelm them, Ethan's dominant presence slammed a filter down between their minds and his field. Irrelevant details vanished, and the human pressure to understand everything was debilitated. Given how Alistair's [i]Threads of Fate[/i] guided one's actions, as well as displaying information in the mind's eye, one could now see the [i]source[/i] of that guidance, and why it made sense – and especially how they could be manipulated beyond making one's actions swift and sure. The filter allowed them to grasp the [b]Battle Plan[/b]: [i]Meteor-Cracker.[/i] It was as though Ethan had [i]downloaded[/i] his plan into their brains, transcending all need for communication, time to explain, and more importantly, the [i]interpretation[/i] of data. It wasn't merely a detailed telepathic message, which normally conveyed vague emotions and echoing voices in real time. No, everyone had the same information in their head simultaneously, while understanding that they were all sharing a moment in time. Now, imagine a football game plan, a technical blueprint, or raised tokens and flags on a war map, or whatever – Take your pick! Their brains would understand the Battle Plan just as though they had devised it. And they'd know that others understood it too. Everyone would understand the plan in their own way, their own terms. But their actions would be synchronized, if they followed through with it, cascading all of their efforts towards the same estimated result. The Battle Plan has [b][url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3203345]3 Stages . . .[/url][/b][/indent] [color=yellow]"Here we go!"[/color] Ethan shouted, brandishing a Wily Ringer in one hand and his Aegis in the other. Ilana bounced back, her shoes skidding roughly against the ground a few feet away from her partner. Her face, bloodied and bruised, stained what remained of her tank-top (her black, lacy bra showed through). Her eyes had spiraled into pure determination and grit, so the feeling of shame no longer mattered. [color=lawngreen]"That thing's really [b]fuckin'[/b] gropey!"[/color] she spat, causing Ethan to smirk as he dashed towards the screaming Vile. She could not believe the strength and speed of this Vile; her skill level was trivial. Everyone's were... and the only thing she could do was... [i]Flee[/i]. That was it. She could barely mount an attack, but that had been the point: while Ethan had ingrained his battle plan into everyone's head, her entire situation with a Vile had been a contrast in front of them, just to show how certainly pointless it was to engage it head on, alone. The only way to mount an attack was to pass the torch onto others, all while running away . . . She caught her breath, glancing at the group under their command, before leaping into the air . . . just as the Vile slammed Ethan into the ground with outstretched arms and claws . . . the Hybrid carefully rolled away, coming to a kneeling position as the Vile prepared to charge him like a rhino. [hr] [h3]Meanwhile . . . [/h3] [i]At the pier[/i] Bits and Sparks had been dealing with the chaos of the evacuation. Fortunately, it was almost over - the last remnant of survivors ushered onto the docks mercilessly. To that point, an old nanny, wizened by years of asylum child training, held a 9yo mulatto girl and a 10yo Mexican boy by the hand. She was trying to be careful, to guide them into the boats since all other entries had been blocked. She attempted to slip past a group of teens, but she panicked and lost her footing. Her pince nez flew off as she cracked her head. The boy fell to his feet, about to be trampled by another group of kids. But the girl screamed, her body hurling towards the water. As a last moment of desperation, a pink yoyo slipped out of her hand, in an attempt to snag the rigging on the dock. But it was to no avail. Her eyes caught Sparks' at the last second, before a wave Bits was trying to control consumed her. Tossing, turning, lungs filling, only one thought remained: [i]'Daddy . . . I'm sorry . . .'[/i] [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3497748][[u]Next Post[/u]][/url]