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[img]http://i1339.photobucket.com/albums/o719/EthereanFire/B-K_zpssr2nzrlr.png[/img]


[color=blue]Level:[/color] 1
[color=red]Day/Time:[/color] Day Two; Afternoon
[color=blue]Location:[/color] Butter Building; Interior - 6th Floor
[color=red]Tags:[/color] [color=cornflowerblue]Frisk[/color] [@Guardian Angel Haruki], [color=fff200]Marx[/color]/[color=a187be]Marx Soul[/color] [@Holy Soldier]
[color=blue]Mentions:[/color] [color=magenta]Alicia[/color] [@Zarkun], [color=deepskyblue]Phoenix Wright[/color] [@Leaves], [color=00a99d]Cloud[/color] [@Holy Soldier]
[color=red]Word Count:[/color] 630
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Marx didn’t get the chance to demonstrate to them his oh-so-fearsome power as they had expected when the armored warrior opened fire on him, knocking him from his spherical perch--more by way of surprise than anything. Somehow, the few seconds that passed proved to be ample time for the child to confirm, however they did, that Marx wasn’t in possession of Mario’s soul. For the most part, that much was obvious; this was only the first boss. None of them had any real time to make another move before apparent reinforcements were beamed in, no sooner than the swordsman was able to announce it. The battle had yet to actually start, and already they were given backup. In all honesty, it felt a little too convenient. Though, it was something of a question as to whether or not one of them was actually supposed to be there, because he certainly didn’t seem as if he wanted or meant to be. Marx understandably took issue with this regardless.

[color=blue]“But we didn’t call them,”[/color] Banjo attempted to correct. Not that it would matter. They still had to fight, so the more the merrier; they would purportedly need everything they could get.

Before they knew it, their [color=fff200]“host”[/color] was undergoing some kind of spontaneous metamorphosis, which mostly just involved him sprouting gilded bat wings lined with hexagonal rainbow crystals, with hearts adorning the joints, and spades to make up the ends. He was like half a deck of cards, but with ten times the color. Sure, this new form was more imposing, but one could hardly call it intimidating. In this way, it was little different from the duo’s encounter with Mr. Patch; both had [i]inflated[/i] self-perceptions as well as a conspicuous fondness for beach balls. The jester’s ego kicked in once more as he broadcasted a likely hyperbolic claim of possessing cosmic power. The miniaturized black hole that spawned between his divided form, however, was anything but a bluff, and he was quick to warn them of that. The jeweled chiroptera cautioned the squad not to let themselves be drawn in, to which their leader directed the same.

[color=red]“Good idea! We should probably NOT do that,”[/color] Kazooie loudly belabored sarcastically, seeing the child’s command as redundant. For them (and presumably anyone else) it went without saying, really, and it had already been said by the one person in the room who had little reason to offer them any advice--helpful or not. Banjo was already beelining for the main entrance at the steady pace dictated by the singularity as he tried to pull away from it, however slowly. The smooth marble floor made gaining traction a practical impossibility, but they’ve faced a similar challenge in the past during their battle with Weldar, on top of every five square meters of floor having an electrified perimeter. That particular experience suggested that Banjo should possess adequate strength to resist just long enough to reach the door, which he would then hang on to the handles of while waiting out the vacuum. If they recalled correctly, the doors opened to the outside, so they would hopefully not have to worry about them swinging open and letting in the unfathomable foulness just on the other side of them.

It was a shame they didn’t have grenade eggs this time around, as they might have proven, in the same way, to be just as useful in their current predicament as they did back then. Unfortunately, they were presently without any other apparently reliable anti-air capabilities to bring Marx down to their level, as per the child’s command, nor were they capable of getting up there with him to do the same. For now, they would have to rely on whoever else could create such openings to do so.