[@dirty slime]
Perhaps to the swordsmans dismay, there was no surprise to be found within Kyrie Lennis. Not as the shield maintained form, and not as the little 'angel' leapt away. There was only expectation. Calculation. Kyrie, though young was a strategist that even the upper echelons of the Earth-Sphere would consult for input on various stratagems. So he was more than prepared for the little butterfly to flutter away upon the realization that this pilot was no standard-company, undertrained patriot just eager for glory. He was perhaps the greatest pilot of the entire Resistance, and he was owed no greater machine than the Freedom.

Just as the Fangs released their payloads, Kyrie could have sworn he saw the creatures mouth motion an utterance before he, or at least so he thought, 'vanished'. In reality, the digi-angel had only increased its relative speed to Kyrie by no small number, but was still well within his vast perceptual pools. The Fangs veered off in odd angles and lateral spirals with a mathematical precision that could give any creature a headache to follow, avoiding the volley of strikes with the sort of dexterity and granular control that can only be achieved by a machine before redocking again for recharging.

He was more than ready when the angel came full circle, diving toward him feet-first like a kangaroo out of Hell. Heaven? Nah, hell. Though he wouldn't let his enemy know that. He left his back turned to him, leaving his rear flank open purposefully to guide it into a false sense of security until the last possible moment. As soon as it seemed the angel's attack would crash into the Freedom(within two feet), a thin M Field would form around him like a caged fence before violently degenerating itself in a massive release of energy and V particles that packed enough force behind it to annhialate an armored tank. With his extrasonic shunts and the absolutely insipid speed at which he shot himself at the Freedom, rapid directional shifting was out of the question, since momentum and inertia are things. Though the assault wasn't finished. 

Within the same moment as the formation of the M field, the Freedom veers around 180 degrees at breakneck speeds via the suits various verniers to face the enemy. In a simultaneous action, both shoulder-mounted high-energy positron rifles discharged their stores in a duet of beams whom's combined width could swallow a city block with ease as Kyrie summoned forth a wall of Psi. The wall would not only act as a makeshift defense in the case the cursed angel escaped its prison, but also as a sail with which to ride the waves of concussive force caused by the explosions a good thirty feet or so away from the contact point.

As he lands, Kyrie catches a glimpse of his once-were allies breaking past the enemy line. A smile of reassurance creeps upon either side of his lips as he realizes his success. He was able to successfully hold the enemies attention to give the others a  fleeting moment to break through, and by the looks of it he had accomplished just that. [i]Regardless of the outcome of this battle...[/i] he started the thought, but shook it from his mind as he rearranged his priorities. He cocked his head back where he was sure there should have been a 'fallen' angel before drawing a V beam sprayer and holding down the trigger to cover his escape as he veered off toward the base.