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[img]https://i.postimg.cc/L5r26P82/Star-Fox-Final.png[/img]

[color=5edaf6]Level:[/color] 6 (15 -> 16 -> 19 -> 15/60) (-4)
[color=5edaf6]Location:[/color] Sandswept Sky - Temple of Khamoon
[color=5edaf6]Word Count:[/color] 1554 (+3 EXP)
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The moment for assessment and anticipation spent, both combatants took off in stride to advance on one another, closing the distance between them at a somewhat uneven pace. Fox kicked things off by taking a burst of potshots on the run to open the boy’s guard or coax out some kind of defensive response to get a cursory initial read for it. He was neither surprised nor disappointed to see him bat the laser volley away with little visible effort, or duck the rapid quintuple flying roundhouse he threw out at him once he made striking distance. He found immense difficulty in blocking and evading the chain of retaliatory ‘sword’ swipes the young key wielder answered back at him with, ending with an uppercut that connected with the bottom of his boot, but carried them both upward still. While airborne, Fox was put in a hard disadvantage state, robbed of the leverage to properly defend himself against an opponent who he swiftly found out could move and attack just as fluidly off his feet as he could on them.

Every stroke of Sora’s relentless onslaught connected unopposed to send Fox back to the floor where a well of dark magic waited to erupt beneath him, skipping backward just as the trap went off to narrowly manage a near miss. Sora chased him with an advancing horizontal ‘slash’ to meet Fox’s staggered guard, followed by Robin leaping over him to come down with an overhead vertical cleave. His Levin Sword struck Fox’s glove plates to send him flying back, doing little to mitigate the damage sustained as it broke his guard wide open. He bounced off his back to his feet, kicking up parallel trails of dust as he skid to a halt, and attempted to reorient himself while he had the space to again.

Difficult as it already was, it was only natural that Robin and co. would continue to insist on an unfair fight in their favor; to “tip the scales,” so he liked to say. Luckily, Panther and Skull showed up on each side to come to his aid, seemingly shifting said scales back to balance. Looking between them with an appreciative nod, he issued to them, [color=5edaf6]“Open up their leader! If we can take [i]him[/i], we win.”[/color] He didn’t have time or feel the need to explain why, but he trusted the Thieves to understand his intent and go with him on it. Unfortunately for them, they wouldn’t get the chance to see if he was right.

The proceeding exchange was short-lived, as Fox’s backup harbored elemental weaknesses he wasn’t aware of, leaving him back to where he started, but now slightly worse for having a sum of his vitality magically sapped from him. He struggled as he had learned to in an attempt to free himself from the spell’s grasp, aided further by reserve reinforcement from the rest of Yellow Team. Skull and Panther took the opportunity to initiate their patented team finishing move to unleash fury on the opposing trio, which Fox joined in on with them, his sharp blue streaks of phantasmal speed rendered a shadowy, silhouetted black. Sora, however, then called upon radiant power as he saw fit to deny their reckless play at ending the fight, turning the tables back on them once more.

Fox couldn’t be sure if falling into the dense brass mass of Big Band was honestly any better than hitting the ground, but with most of the fight gone from him, he was at his mercy. Both become a singular prime target for the prodigal key slinger, who came rushing forth faster than either of them could do anything about, with the shining end of his weapon pointed squarely at their hearts. They were saved not by the trepidatious Tora, but a newcoming titan of a man of obvious strength and stature to rival Band to intercept the young man at the last second with a devastating, magnitudinal coffin blow to bring the conflict to a meteoric conclusion… so it would seem. Silence began to fall over the chambers. Fox urged in slackened movements that Band kindly unhand him, silently, stubbornly assuring the detective that he was good for it as he deposited him to the floor to take a knee where he fell.

Fox looked up weakly from where he knelt to behold the prelude to Robin's desperate final gambit as a prismatic aura of power--familiar only to the two of them (or so he thought)--swelled ominously, darkening the entire underchamber's atmosphere by sheer contrast. He could almost ‘hear’ it come into being. A ‘Final Smash’, they dubbed it; a special, powerful, seldom seen or utilized technique every fighter possessed, capable of decisively turning the tide of any battle in a single move. It was previously, however, reserved for exhibitional settings and purposes; never in real world combat situations. The question was, since when could one manifest such power on their own, on command no less, and how would it differ in both form and application? Fox was sure of only this: that they would pay to find out, and that they couldn’t afford to.

If he thought they could, he would have told his team to run, but that would entail knowing what from, and if they could outrun it. To make matters worse, in imploring Robin in dramatic fashion to abstain and begging to ‘take his place’ as it were (lending to it an even greater and more dire sense of foreboding), his partner, Tharja, readily amassed the very same power within herself, in utter defiance of any presuppositions of exclusivity to ‘Smashers’ and their ilk. Eyes wide and pupils constricted in alarm, Fox desperately lifted his sidearm, deliberating now on whether he had the time or energy left to Friend Heart them, or if he should simply take them out to save the rest of them, at the risk of failing his self-assigned mission, and began to feel his aim shakily waver from fatigue. He narrowed his eyes in focus to correct to the best of his ability as his Blaster’s lens (read: muzzle) welled aglow with charge. Still, his focus lay strictly ahead on two targets, unsure if he could hit both of them in his current state, lacking the presence of mind to check inward and feel for himself whether or not he was channelling the curative, de-Gleaming energy to save them, trigger finger ready to release either way…

Then, as luck and reason would have it, Robin conceded to his partner’s plea, both calling off their last resorts, collapsing to the floor in exhaustion, and thus forfeiting the fight… for now. Fox similarly allowed the charge built up in his Blaster to die down, dropped to three points, heaving a sigh of relief, and began catching his breath one respiration at a time in a moment of rest. The fight was over; they had won, but their mission remained far from complete.

Not even a minute passed in the aftermath of battle before more blood had been vindictively drawn. Though bearing witness, Fox needn’t have to know what had transpired. The self-satisfied excuses of the Grimleal blade sorcerer--a self-called justiciar--for hypocritical pleasure killing sufficed to paint an already hideous picture. He then had the gall to try to sell it to them as an offered favor, or a privilege he was so graciously sharing with them, as if he was in any place to call the shots. No amount of prompt forgiveness and intervention by Kan-Ra attempting to absolve his evidently bloodthirsty compatriot as a stand-in for reason that had just left the scene in a blade stroke could salvage his now indelibly worsened reputation with the Seekers.

Fox tightened his eyelids shut in cold anger, masked with quiet determination as he turned his naturally sharp gaze forward, hauling himself tiredly to his feet and marching over to Robin where he lay, calling what strength he had left to stop himself limping or dragging his feet with every step, applying effort to appear as if he wasn’t. Having been a major reason for his coming down there to begin with, Fox had already made up his mind about what he planned to do with the fallen among the Resistance that still breathed, and didn’t need, or care, to listen to the Validar’s impunitive officers offer their opinions as if they mattered at all to him at this point. He neither waited nor listened to what either of them had to say, for he had already started making his way while they talked “options” like there were any others worth considering. He wasn’t waiting for permission.

Fox proceeded intently, drawing out a Heart in his off hand, then knelt before the downed tactician and gingerly pat his shoulder to administer the apparent miracle cure for Galeem’s influence. Watching as it took effect, he waited for him to wake to see what he would say or do first before making any other moves, aware of the potential risk it posed to him being in lackluster condition to fight a freshly rejuvenated opponent, but moreso confident in him awaking to his proper senses to instead recognize him as an ally… or at the very least remember what came before, that lead them to where they were now.