[h2][color=orange]HR-513 - The Harvester[/color][/h2]
If it were possible for him to be angry about this turn of affairs, HR-513 would be. He’d expended a lot of energy on that attack, only for the targets to avoid it by simply [i]burrowing underground,[/i] the blast simply carrying on in the same direction until it ultimately petered out. And they’d left behind a message of truce, no less. That said, though he had not heard Victoire’s words in his mind, he had certainly heard of the infamous demi-vampire that fought so fervently for Hell’s Oligarchy, and knew how much of a threat she could be given a chance. Best to inform Maceroy, then, especially since a pulse of demonic energy had just been emitted, though its effects were analysed and soundly negated by warping it to the opposite side of HR-513’s body as it came in range.

[color=orange]'One of Heaven’s bodies has suggested a truce between they and the Machina,'[/color] the Harvester advised him via a miniaturised hovering speaker warped into existence just next to his left ear - just one of the benefits of having a piece of himself in range of the scientist at all times. [color=orange]'You should extend this to any other of Heaven’s scions you find. I imagine we will require it.'[/color]

Speaking of assistance required, it seemed the burst of warp energy had been noticed. A larger, bulky demonoid had just manifested within meters of HR-513, a creature of apparently-substantial strength, yet overall simplistic abilities - something the Harvester could properly acknowledge, going by its brutish build and straightforward initial charge. As it attempted to grab him, Harvester simply warped the beast to the opposite side of his body, warping in front of the demon a burst of ultra-heated solar mass intended for the angelic soldiers as its own momentum propelled it onward, into the densely-packed plasma proper. This first strike would help him gauge the monster’s durability. The next strike would be a killshot - or would at least aspire to be.

[@Silvan Haven][@Awesomoman64]

[hr]

[h2]Maceroy Falthon[/h2]
Ugh. He did not need to be hit by that burst of energy from the red-feathered harpy. He already felt significantly worse than he had just a few moments ago, and it’d take several minutes for his nanomachines to replicate back to full capacity. Not to mention the sudden intrusion of somebody’s voice into his head declaring victory for the demons- And so soon? What unadulterated arrogance- which he’d certainly need to find a way to prevent from doing harm to him in the future. Though realistically, it had been on his bucket list to try and negate psychic assaults in general for some time… he’d try to figure out a way of reflecting them, too, if he had the chance, interesting to accomplish as that would be…

Not that that mattered. Though he’d even managed to deflect a bullet back towards his gun-bearing foe, he had failed to injured her seriously, being interrupted halfway through his attack by his bout of demonically-inspired headache and slight muscle pains, and her weapon had already transformed into a scythe, something she’d brought up in an effort to finish him off with one blow.

Pathetic. If something hardly worse than a cold wasn’t enough to stop him working in his lab, it certainly wouldn’t stop him from fighting on the field. Lance still spinning, Maceroy brought it round to block the demonic weapon’s strike at the hilt just below the blade, avoiding the blade proper by a few centimeters, only to mutter to the red-coat ‘Did nobody ever tell you scythes are a farming tool?’ as he stepped back on one clawed foot and angled his weapon in a way that locked the scythe in place. The holy nature of his shock lance was his most effective guard now, its own electrical charge partially negating the red lightning that otherwise threatened to arc to him - and with any luck, the drill might even have a chance to shatter the scythe entirely, the Heaven-empowered drillbit clashing with incredible rapidity against the anomalous enhancements of Marie’s blade and bearing a near-certain chance of winning out if she couldn’t draw the blade free.

And in the meantime, there was Eve to consider. Evie… goodness, but it [i]had[/i] been a while, hadn’t it? He only hoped… well, it was a very far-reaching hope, but if she’d suffered even an iota less at their hands than he had, he’d consider his actions successful. Yet, observing from her expression that she barely recognised him; his false hope began to die mere moments after it formed. Bah, who was he trying to fool? Chances were she’d been… no, no, now was not the time to consider that. Though as the Harvester’s words reached him, he decided that he really didn’t want to fight her anyway…

The decision was rather taken away from him, however, when bullets suddenly ripped through the air towards her; in the same moment, he received a text from one Utada Mitsuda telling him to cover his eyes. Perhaps a fiftieth of a second after receiving the text, his back foot lashed upward toward the mercenary’s gut with unexpected agility, glowing grey with matter-destroying energy. He suspected that even without that extra power surrounding his oversized toes, he’d be able to shred her stomach and disembowel her with relative ease, like a raptor ripping open its prey... but it paid to make sure, and if she did happen to have some form of damage resistance, so much the better for him. What were the chances she’d see it coming, after all?

More importantly, what were the chances she’d leap back as she attempted to avoid the foot, leaving him free to actually cover his face? Pretty high, he imagined, if she didn’t actually let herself have her guts torn out. Either way, he also flapped one pair of wings to propel himself backward as he covered his eyes with the other, guarding most of his face and upper body from further attack, as well as-

Well, not that it mattered, with the flashbang going off and all. T’was still deafeningly loud, but at least he wasn’t blinded by it too the way the other three would be. And with the armed soldier now firing at the red-coated mercenary, it was practically a guaranteed victory for the two of them… the three of them, if he had his way. Quickly tapping his own communicator, he texted Utada [i]Do not kill the harpy in the croptop.[/i] He still had words to say to her.

[@Lmpkio][@Banana][@The 42nd Gecko][@floodtalon]