[centre][h2]The Zenith - Xoxi's Super Cool Fortress of Awesome[/h2] [h1]Above Boston[/h1] [sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre] Vector stared humorously as the ghostly hand tapped her back like an old friend. Glancing at Xoxi, she raised an eyebrow. “Are… are you trying to use your power on me?” The rage which swelled within the young girl as a result of this action was almost certainly far less than she anticipated. It was a mix of more exasperation than true anger, mostly from her undesired babysitting role in keeping the Wards out of trouble with the rest of the Protectorate. With Praetor in charge, that wasn’t always easy. Her face lit up with a smile of thinly-veiled annoyance. “Oh, and don’t call me ‘Vec’.” Pressing a button on her helmet, a piece of her visor clicked into place by her eye while she did a quick check on time via her HUD. “I have a few minutes,” she said with an almost wicked grin. “Time enough to kick all your asses.” [@Gardevoiran] [hr] [centre][h2]The Circus Maximus[/h2] [h1]Victory Road[/h1] [sub]21st January, 2011[/sub][/centre] The faint feeling of blood spraying from a wound - a sort of vibrating tug at his senses - satisfied him greatly. Not nearly as much as hearing the girl [i]howl[/i], however. It made the pain burning through his arm worthwhile, as he made a conscious effort to restrict the blood flowing from the wound. Blood and metal shone faintly in the moonlight. The entire picture was one of almost sublime beauty. Still, he wasn’t nearly done. Surprisingly enough, neither was his opponent. She was a strange one. No matter how much effort he put into the fear tactics that worked so well on almost every cape in Boston just at the mention of his [i]name[/i], she continued unabated even in the face of certain death. He could respect that. Trying to get the drop on him, she activated some kind of cloaking device and disappeared from view. For the briefest of moments, Sickle actually believed she was running away - finally showing an ounce of self-preservation. Focusing on the blood pouring from her ear, it moved lower to the ground. Before rocketing in his direction. The cloak was almost useless. From her injury, he could track her every movement. Well, [i]almost[/i] every movement. Without knowing the finer details of the positioning of her arms and legs, he relied on best-guessing to establish her next move. And this time, he’d guessed wrong. From the hesitation brought about by expecting her to run, his reactions were slowed. With a flick of his wrist, he moved the blood pouring from her ear across her face, turning the liquid into a congealed and sticky lattice. Now that it had a larger surface area, he pushed back against her momentum - trying to stop her in mid-air and leave her completely open to a counterattack. He’d started a little too late, however, and although her speed had dropped by quite a margin, it was nowhere near enough to stop her. A knee cracked into his upper chest, and something inside audibly snapped. Probably the injury from earlier being pushed over the edge. The impact knocked him back a few feet, and down to his knees. Moving his mask, a coughing fit brought up a mouthful of blood which dripped through his teeth and onto the ground. [i]This is why,[/i] a voice said, [i]I don’t like picking fights when already injured.[/i] [i]Shut up,[/i] the other hissed. [i]We didn’t pick this fight, but I’ll sure as hell fucking end it.[/i] A lid of a trashcan clattered onto the ground nearby, arcing back to what was presumably the person who threw it. Given the angle of the ricochet, that person was also presumably a parahuman. Sickle took the chance, taking a deep breath, and calmed slightly. [i]No. Not unless I have to,[/i] he thought. The man put forward a proposition - which given the state of affairs, Sickle was more than happy to hear out. “Gladly,” he called out from his kneeling position. “Although since the Iron Maiden over there seems to have a sodden death wish, she might object to that.” [@Migyudon][@Duoya][@Lasrever][@Old Amsterdam][@SkinnyTy][@PlatinumSkink]