[center][h3]The Lady in White[/h3] Location: Government Hub [@Lazo][/center] Now possessing a concrete goal, the odd pair of Mountain Dew and Pithy moved through the Government Hub at a brisk pace. Having for the most part evaporated over the course of the day, the flooding from the previous night presented insignificant obstruction, allowing the two to zero in on the place marked on the sorceress's map. Their path took them north, toward the skyscrapers of the towering Commercial District, though not as far as it could have been; judging by the amount of ground he'd covered from the tower, their target did not appear to be on the run. Nothing jumped out at them on their trek in the manner of the bat creatures Pithy first encountered, but one anomaly did not try to disguise itself: the surreal sight of a circus tent floating high in the air, its colors and constant spin giving it clear distinction against the rather cloudy sky. Were Mountain's vision exceptionally trained, perhaps through the lens of a long-distance firearm, he might even be able to spot the strange shape that dropped like an oblong rock through the Big Top's bottom toward the unremarkable office buildings and accompanying lots far below. Yet, the unusual occurrence constituted for the pair little more than a distraction as they grew close to the building overlaid by their map's X. The edifice in question seemed to be a high-brow corner restaurant, and its sign read “Moscow Caliber.” [center][h3]The Fungal Knight[/h3] Location: Government Hub [@Gardevoiran][/center] Scarcely had the Basil-isk begun to advance before the blasts of three warning shots broke the crisp air, their payloads ricocheting off the concrete in bursts of stone shards. None of the bullets hit Bonesword, but were he to look behind him, he could see that the ricocheted projectiles had embedded themselves in the building behind him in a perfect line. However absurd, such a feat spoke great lengths to the skill of the marksman, who now held his strange pistol at his side, his stance casual. Not far away, the forest sprite gave every indication of being spooked by the roar of the skeleton's mount, and like a fly darting away from a rolled-up newspaper it had already dashed behind a parked car to hide. Despite his lackadaisical manner, which contrasted so thoroughly with the killer ability displayed by his warning shots, the mummified gunslinger kept his mushy ochre eyes fixed on Bonesword. “Hol' up jus' a moment there, pardner. Ya migh' not-a realized, but we're smack dab in the middle of a...delicate medicinal operation. Any closer an' that nice skull o' yers gets a new 'ole.” Without changing his gaze, he motioned toward the rosy-pink puddle, which appeared to have doubled in size and thickness in the short time since Bonesword saw it last. As he watched, the goo began to coalesce into the shape of a body. First identifiably humanoid, then identifiably female, it continued to gather until it took on the appearance of a long-haired, stocky woman. The moment they formed, her eyes flew open, and she gasped. [color=E52B50]“No!”[/color] she cried, before sitting upright. The effort brought forth another wave of pain, and the slime woman clutched her head, wincing. [color=E52B50]”Aaah! Why does it hurt so much!?”[/color] The gunslinger knelt, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder while averting his eyes. “Ya got killed. Hell, not even jus' killed, ya got evaporated.” Eyes wide, the slime woman tried to stand, only to fall apart. Her lower half melted back into a puddle, leaving only her torso, head, and arms. Sensing that his hand wouldn't do much good, the cowboy wiped it off and spoke again. “C'mon now, listen 'ere. D'ya know yer name?” A moment passed, a look of consternation on the woman's face. [color=E52B50]“...Ss...Squ....no, uh, it's...uh...Ver...Very...”[/color] “Verrine,” the undead finished. “Means 'window' in another language. Same language yer creator's name comes from. D'ya rem-” This time, recognition came as quick as a bolt of lightning, interrupting the gunslinger's question. [color=E52B50]”Carreau.”[/color] The gunslinger gave a laugh. “Figures ya remember 'im better'n yerself. How 'bout us, now?” One by one, Verrine looked between everyone present. [color=E52B50]”Skreeh...Screed?,”[/color] she asked the mummy, who gave a slight nod. The forest sprite, who'd risen up from his hiding spot, came to her next. [color=E52B50]”Frolic...the doctor. We're friends. I g-guess you brought me back? Eheh...thank you.”[/color] Each memory seemed to restore her confidence as well as her body, returning her to full form, but her face became uncertain when she looked at Bonesword. [color=E52B50]”You...uh, I don't really...remember. I'm really trying, but I just can't! I'm sorry for being so useless...”[/color] At that, Screed stepped in. “No, no, yer fine. He ain't one of us, ya see.” Crossing his arms, the gunslinger faced Bonesword with narrowed eyes. A guarded look crossed Verrine's features as she stood, her hands balling into fists. “Ah think it's 'bout time he gave an account o' 'imself. Who are ya, pardner, and whatcha doin' in a place where two of our friends were murdered?” [center][h3]The Cereal Killer[/h3] Location: Flooded Historical District [@Propro][/center] Runch's shout met silence, the atmosphere of the abandoned hotel all the more grim, dreary, and haunting because of the invisible, indescribable entities that infested it. Though the pirate couldn't see it, he was surrounded by shadowy figures, some mere inches away from his body and always on the move to avoid being touched. Their master could not be seen either, but after a few moments, a call from down the dimly-lit corridor heralded Davian's presence. “Fine by me,” the voice conceded from its owner's hiding spot. “Even if our powers were good together, we were too inexperienced to stick it to monsters like Crue. Told her, but she wouldn't listen. I'm going, but don't try following me, Mr. Runch. And though I'm going, I'm afraid I can't make any promises. I hate fighting, especially when it's as dangerous as this, but I can't bear the thought of a monster getting his one wish. Even though you beat Crue, someone worse might beat you, and the machine needs every soul.” Davian appeared from a doorway near the stairwell entrance, his hands above his head as he rushed over to the escape route. “You don't seem like a bad guy, but you could just as easily be one's stepping stone,” he called. Into the open door he slipped, his last words echoing up the stairwell. “That's why we have to stop this tournament, sooner or later! We're not heroes, but as long as there's even the slightest chance of an awful wish threatening the world, we have to intervene!” Then, the man was gone, though continued pursuit was by no means out of the question. [center][h3]Inari[/h3] Location: What Lies Beneath [@Kapuchu][/center] As if on cue, the drone approached the two battered but surviving combatants, hovering nearby. A voice played from it without delay, though one that identified itself as a pre-recorded message just as quickly. “If you're hearing this, one of the GPS tracking signals in your vicinity has been snuffed out, which means that a Phylactery is compromised, a soul taken, and the battle won. Good on you for making it one step closer to your ultimate desire! Feel free to help yourself to any artifacts or other equipment belonging to the defeated party, or even ally yourself with an enemy you spared. You'll need everything you can get for the next round. When your next opponent is ready, this drone's tracking will reengage, which you can tell by the eyelight blinking. Good luck out there!” As the drone's speech ended, its eyelight retained its constant glow, indicating that the immediate future held no more duress for either the fox or the shark. With the incredible violence the battle out of the way, the cool, calm atmosphere of the great cavern could sweep back in. Robbed of its potential threat, the darkness seemed as gentle as the glow of the bioluminescent fungi. By now the enormous crow appeared to have landed at the foreboding city in the distance, so not even its heavy wingbeats disturbed the quiet. Only the soft echoes of dripping water and the whistling of breezes that spiraled down from the surface reached Lily's ears.