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[h1][u]In support of true heroism[/u][/h1]

A slightly winded cleric rushed forward towards the building area, his body fueled by both a sense of duty and protection, and pure unadulterated spite towards the bastard who tried to burn everyone... The barriers trailing right behind him, following with his concrete cracking run. As he arrived to the epicenter of the battle, it was all too clear everyone was attacking the asshat known as firefly with everything they had... Hershel grit his teeth for a moment, hands clenching into fists as he stared into the distant wailing onto the flying bastard...

It wasn't his kind of fight, unfortunately. Letting a long and frustrated sigh escape his lips, eyes fluttering closed... the duke would bide his time for now despite spite. Instead, the man opted to extend his hands, open palms once again, and maneuver his barriers close to him in preparation for any collateral that could come down to the area.

And for better or worse, the cleric wouldn't be made to wait all too long. The pyromaniac's equipment kept being hit and damaged, prompting an action of either panic or defiance: To throw as many high explosives down as he could muster into the street, threatening the enterity of their rescues once again.

Without wasting even a further instant as others made isolated explosives detonate ahead of time instead of chain, the cleric sprinted away again towards the first aid camp entrance intending to protect the rest of the street, for it was quite obvious that every instant would count. By this point, the magical black-ish shield walls had compressed into two small blocks to each side of the cleric for ease of movement.

Yet just as he had done so, a familiar face faced forward towards the danger, a man in a spandex who seemed quite cold and business-like on dealing with superman beforel, who now moved at an incredible speed, captured by the cleric's hazel's almost in slow motion: To web every single bomb he could get his hands on, like a true spider setting up their webbing, catching everything it intends.

It was a conjecture as the man started to climb up, but [B]Hershel knew[/B] from educated guesses and experience what the idea would be. Without missing a beat, his magical bag opened at his will and two different long spears with steel shafts would be pulled out from it as the red and blue hero reached the apex of their path... Hershel's position abruptly shifted, the metal tube from the weapon being firmly grasped while the other kept the remaining of the pair ready for some form of use.

A single message would be swiftly transmitted to the hero now starting to fall from the sky:

[COLOR=#2d6870][I]"Catch onto what I am throwing, pay attention"[/I][/COLOR] Delivered at a speed spoken language can't compare as from a javelin-throwning position, the spear took off breaking the air, approaching to intercept the hero's trajectory without threatening to impale... but if they didn't react, their chance to latch onto it would be missed.

And just as the spear took off, so did Hershel and his barriers behind him, his position adjusting from throw to sprinting towards the crumbling building, second spear gripped in hand and hazel's shining once again in the magical blue of his power, exerting control over the magic he already carried from before.

Then from the sprint, a jump, dust and wind following his sudden motion as his momentum carried him to the side of the building in an arc through the air. [B][I]Crash[/I][/B] 

His weapon and foot dug into the concrete of the structure for an instant, before the cleric put all his strenght into his arm, and [I]swung[/I] himself upwards without hesitation, stabbing the spear from the wall at the right time and running up the side of the building until his momentum would run out...

[I]tick, tick, [B]tick, TICK.[/B][/I] But the bombs's timer would wait for nobody, and Hershel knew this. His following magical barriers extended outwards, positioning themselves under the cluster of explosives procured by the hero in spandex before locking onto each other, forming the shape of a cone with an upwards opening, funneling the bulk of explosive power upwards.

And just as the explosives were about to blow, Hershel stabbed his spear onto the side of the building once again, locking himself in place and his concentration onto the disaster containment... the bastard was [B]NOT[/B] going to one-up them, and someone's heroism would not be undermined.
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Interacting with: [@SomeMekBoy][@Thatguyinastore]