[hider=Lost Echo]
[center][h3]Knight Sylvestre vs the Cereal Killer – Round 3[/h3][/center]

Lips curled in barely-suppressed rage, Cyril snarled, “I don't have time for your idiotic gimmick.  You're not learning.”  A moment of silence passed before Cyril gave a [i]hmph.[/i]  [i]At least he's not responding to my taunt.[/i]  Even as his words dripped venom, Cyril did not dull his senses or his sensibility.  

Whether or not Runch could attack first did not matter.  Unless the pirate was directly behind him, against which the odds were stacked, the vanguard would become aware of and be able to react to him as soon as he made a move.  Furthermore, a surprise attack could conceivably come in one of two forms, melee or ranged, and since Runch knew that Cyril would trounce him in a melee exchange the only course of action would be to fire off a cereal blast from a safe distance.  That meant Runch could not be among the inner circle of clones, wherein lay the best chance of outspeeding the vanguard and striking him down.  If Runch wanted to have any chance of hitting him at range, he needed a clear line of sight from the outer circle, and therefore could not be one of the figures behind another.  Since Runch foolishly flaunted his power to create so many fakes, the crowd was thick enough so that a simple, quick movement in any direction could render a double an obstruction for a ranged attack.  Plus, using one of his cereal attacks would necessitate the pirate calling out his move's name, meaning that his only avenue of attack was his pistol, so the true Runch would have his as ready as possible.  Keeping all this in mind, Cyril pivoted seventy degrees before taking half a step to the right.  He had two few guesses which Cereal Killer was the real one, but made sure not to look directly at them as he prepared to make his move, instead positioning his gaze directly between them.

Pretending to drop his stance, while keeping his legs tense for motion, Cyril gave a heavy sigh and reached for the screw in his head.  The instant his fingers brushed the metal, one of the statues in his left peripheral twitched, aligning its firearm with the vanguard's chest.  That was all Cyril needed.

He yanked the throttle on his shield's back before tossing it upward and jumping up after it.  In midair the shield's serrated edge began to spin, taking on a brilliant metallic glimmer, and as he reached the apex of his jump Cyril deftly thrust his glaive's blade in the straps.  From there he began to twist until he was reoriented toward the earth, and only then did his armor begin to glow.  Fast as a falling star, and almost as bright, Cyril shot downward and drove his raging sawblade into his target as an overwhelming cleave.  Shreds of annihilated cereal flew in every direction as Runch backpedaled, the Mascot Surprise he seized as an impromptu shield reduced to rubble in no more than a second.  Cyril's feet touched the ground just as his sawglaive, having completed the fake's bifurcation, bounced off the cobblestone.  Without a moments delay he wound back and lashed out with a brutal horizontal slice, but the wide-eyed pirate leaped out of harm's way.  [color=turquoise]“Pwah!  By Chocula's Cuspid, I thought you said you didn't want to kill me?”[/color]

Ignoring him, Cyril zoomed forward, empowered by Sheen.  Runch tried to sidestep, using his spoonsaber to deflect the whirling death that buzzed like a swarm of vicious hornets, but instead of catching his foe's attack as it had before the weapon was spat out by the saw with incredible force.  Just keeping his spoonsaber in his grip jolted the muscles in his shoulder and elbow, pulling them in a direction they were not meant to handle.  While Runch winced, however, he did not delay his free hand swinging into position to point at the vanguard's feet.  [color=turquoise]“Bori Bori Honeytrap!”[/color]  A globule of hyper-sticky gunk splattered across Cyril's feet.  The Cereal Killer jumped straight up as he continued, [color=turquoise]“And!   Bori Bori Hellberry Insta-pop!”[/color]  Stopped in his racks, Cyril watched as a smoldering orange cereal appeared from Runch's down-facing palm, but rather than shooting out it started to glow and sputter the instant it hit the air.  A fraction of a second later the grains burst, sending Runch flying higher into the air.  

From above the vanguard heard the words, [color=turquoise]“Second Helping!”[/color]  And another explosive burst appeared.  This time, however, it had happened above the pirate, sending him shooting down much like Cyril had using his sheen moments before.  Runch somersaulted in the air, revolving until at the last moment he extended his Bori Bori Greave for a rock-hard heel drop that crashed into Cyril's horizontally-held glaive shaft with a tremendous [i]TANG.[/i]

The force of the attack forced the shaft downward onto Cyril's chest, like a barbell after too many reps, leaving his unarmored head exposed.  Though he would have liked to bring his other leg up to plant his heel on Cyril's forehead, but his center of balance sent him falling backward instead.  As the weight lessened, the vanguard found himself able to give a mighty shove, throwing Runch off.  The pirate, however, worked with it, changing his tumble into backflip as he muttered something to himself.  Before Cyril could make heads or tails of what he was doing, the pirate launched his spoonsaber like a javelin at his opponent.  The odd weapon's head embedded itself into the cobblestones at Cyril's feet, but when he glanced down on instinct, the vanguard saw a coating of sizzling Hellberry cereal coating the spoonsaber's hilt.

Runch landed, smiled, and put his hands on his hips.  [color=turquoise]“Omnomnom!  You didn't seem to like my last surprise, so here's another!”[/color]

The next moment the Hellberries exploded, the shockwave shaking the plaza as chunks of cobblestone scattered everywhere.  After a few seconds flame gave way to a smoke cloud, and Runch's smile wavered as he wondered if he overdid it.  He did not react in time to avoid a dark object that shot out of the smoke and beaned him in the nose, breaking it in a gush of blood.  “Gaaow!”  He cried, both hands shooting to his sanguine schnoz.  A dripping hunk of cobblestone clattered to the ground in front of him, and he stared at it for a moment before shifting his gaze to the dark figure that strode out of the smoke cloud, one arm across his face to shield his eyes and nose.  Runch's face told just how much he did not understand.  [color=turquoise]“What!?  How!?”[/color]

Uncovering his eyes, Cyril fixed a cold gaze on him.  When he spoke, his voice held almost-amused condescension.  “Even with the information you got on me, you do not know?  Sheen accelerates movements. Threw a rock.  Get it?”

Behind him, the smoke cleared.  Stuck in the stubborn honey still intact after the nearby explosion were the devastated remnants of Cyril's boots, the straps slashed.  At some point after getting trapped, perhaps while Runch was in the air, the vanguard had freed himself but not revealed it.  Despite the accuracy of his throw, Cyril's screw did not appear to be tightened—had he really managed to pull that throw off with martial prowess and spatial memory alone?

The Cereal Killer's eyes were already narrowed, and despite himself he ground his teeth.  Blood had soaked into his mustache and dripped from his lips and chin, forcing him to well up and spit a glob of it before he could speak again.  When it came, his chuckle sounded more than strained.  [color=turquoise]“Omnom...you are indeed calculating and relentless.  But no matter how underhanded the tactics, you will not win.  I know that somewhere my crew is cheering me on, and I will not let them down.”[/color]

Cyril reached for the back of his shield, which was still attached to his halberd, and yanked the throttle.  The sawblade span to life once again, its super-polished blades refracting the light in a dazzling display.  He said nothing, but began to walk forward at a slow pace.

This time, Runch did not wait.  [color=turquoise]“Bori Bori Jet!”[/color]  He flew forward and up, two streams of cereal propelling him into the air.  [color=turquoise]“With your shield on your weapon, Sir Knight, your offense is up, but your defense is lacking!  Bori Bori Grapeshot!”[/color]  Difficult-to-see rock-hard pellets zipped Cyril's way.  He attempted to deflect the shot with his sawglaive, but mistimed it and received the full brunt to his ribs.  While his armor prevented him from being pierced, the impact still reverberated through his body, filling him with pain.  Runch was already, however, anticipating his opponent's next course of action.  [color=turquoise]“Bori Bori Marble Slip!”[/color]  Continuing to fly in a circle around his foe, the pirate released a deluge of marbles to skitter across the plaza.  The frown on Cyril's face told Runch that he realized it, too: with the marbles in play, dodging would be hazardous.  Despite the throbbing pain on his face Runch pulled together a determined grin as he continued to jet around.  [color=turquoise]“Bori Bori Grapeshot!  Second Helping!  Third Helping!”[/color]  Shot after shot stung the knight, and before a fourth could head his way, Cyril was forced to move.  

Using his Sheen, he executed a dash above the marbles that lay before him, and as his momentum gave out he twisted around so that his back hit the ground.  He landed on the marbles below him and began to roll atop them, his speed preserved.  Behind him the fourth shot cracked against the cobblestones, and Runch glanced in the direction ahead of his foe.  [color=turquoise]“The buildings.  Not if I have anything to say about it!”[/color]  Expertly guiding his cereal jets, the pirate swooped down to swipe his spoonsaber from where it lay before pivoting to pursue Cyril.  As he turned about Runch noticed that, having cleared the marble field, Cyril had regained his footing and was running toward the buildings' cover, though not as fast as before.  A plan popped into the Cereal Killer's mind, and he honed in on his target.

Cyril was fifty feet from his destination when his adversary slammed into him from behind and clapped his arms around the vanguard's cuirass.  Before he could do anything about it he found himself lifted off his feet, and the next moment he was hurtling down the sidestreet at a breakneck pace.  His legs skidded across the road's surface as Runch guided him closer and closer to the wooden structure at its end, and he realized just what the pirate meant to do.  Once, then twice, Cyril drove his elbow into his captor's ribs, but he did not relinquish his vicegrip.  With just seconds left before impact, Cyril tried to bring his sawglaive's head up and around, but the rushing air made the motion nigh-impossible.  He endeavored to leverage all the strength he could muster, first in silence and then with a guttural cry, and in the nick of time he managed to maneuver the spinning blade toward Runch's upper body.  It cut into his shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain and instinctive recoil that twisted the pair about in midair.  The next moment they hit, side by side, and with a thunderous [i]CRACK[/i] everything went dark.
[/hider]

[center][h3]Inari[/h3]
Location: Deadbeat Sky
[@Kapuchu][/center]

Having satiated his hunger before Inari arrived, Carreau waited with his cheek resting against his knuckles for his guests to finish.  His golden eyes stared listlessly at the door as if waiting for company that would never arrive, though it was plain his thoughts -though themselves inscrutable- were elsewhere.  Compared to his earlier self, he seemed weary, or perhaps unhappy.  When Lily finished her food and spoke to him, he held his head up and returned his hand to his lap.  If her question seemed obvious, he gave no indication.  “Well, I planned to assign however many elite fighters I can spare to fight alongside you.  In the interest of demonstrating my seriousness about our agreement and my earlier statement I thought I'd take an active role and join you as well.”  With his talons he scratched at the feathers around his neck.  “By the way, do you have any way to find your next opponent?  I recall seeing a little robot of some kind near you before your fight with the monster, but it occurs to me that it hasn't been around since then.”

[center][h3]The Murder[/h3]
Location: Street Mall
[@Propro][/center]

Samuel's fingers closed around something bizarre, not quite solid, but inclined to hold its shape and move like one, a little bit like jelly if less inclined to squirm out of the hand that grabbed it and fall apart.  In fact, the thing the man clutched [i]did[/i] move, wriggling ever-so-softly, though this did not hinder his ability to pick it up.  When he retrieved it from his pocket and held it up for inspection under the early evening's fading light, he beheld an object utterly unlike any he had ever seen before, as alien as it was unnerving.

A disgusting, ghostly apparition sat upon his palm, every few moments giving a horrendous twitch.  It resembled several nightmarish corvids if those pitiable birds had been fused together and mixed around; different parts stuck out in every direction in a loathsome, haphazard fashion.  One got the impression in very short order that this malformed wretch should never have existed at all—yet, when Sam examined it, it struck him as both natural and, though a touch repulsive, familiar.  If anything, the only true unease it caused him was a subtle sense of loss, like bringing it out into the open put it in danger, and that it held some kind of hidden value best kept secret.

For the mysterious, unflinching vendor, however, the abomination's value was plain to see.  “Aaaah, yes!  Even more fascinating than I pictured.  Please, allow me to relieve you of it.  It might inspire funny feelings in you just now, like you should not be giving it up, but it is a deception.  Like a parasite, it tries to manipulate to keep you from removing it.  Remember that its riddance is your ultimate want.”  He gave a guttural laugh, spreading his hands.  “And I do not blame you, either!  Nasty thing like that, a terrible weight to carry.”