hadriel | [video - for the good of all of us (except the ones who are dead).]

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[video - for the good of all of us (except the ones who are dead).]

Oh Abeegail, what am I to do? I need to help five people and fill them with hope so I can get something that makes me feel like I have a heart again! Because I don't have a heart inside my body, which apparently means far more to me than it does for most of the people in this stupid cave. Hmn? What's that Beeatrice, this trade is basically impossible for me without the thing I'm trading for? Right you are! How smart, and how quickly you realized it, you smart little bee.

[His faux enthusiasm drops and he glares flatly at the camera.]

Come help a witch help you to help himself help us all. I have healing magic and a temper. If you think this is cheating, I don't want to hear it, and I only want things that will actually help. I'm serious, I'm trying to be good, here.

...Oh, and it goes against everything else I'm trying to do here, but I should let you know that the bees I found can't make honey. Maybe if you tell Delight or someone they can, she'll believe you and the copies will be able to, I don't know. I don't really care.

[He's screwed.]

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[why]

Yeah, well.

[Not really. Still, it just seems like a bad idea to share too much information. Somehow. Somehow.]

It isn't like you haven't been without surprises of your own. You're sick, you know that?

[People aren't usually that blunt about it but it isn't the first time he's heard the general sentiment. Unfazed, he doesn't touch his weapons, simply ignoring the remark and holding out his empty hand, palm up.

Generally, he doesn't like it when things end too easily. It's not as much fun. This is a bit of a special case, though.]

Are you going to return it or not?

[He sighs, glancing at the screen so he can lower the volume and quit out of his game before slooooowly drifting down and holding it out. He's still a little too high up, but it's almost home...]

Where did you get this?

I brought it here with me.

[Of course he might not have bought it in his world by traditional means - Nekozawa was always willing to trade for whatever he might need - but there's no point in getting into that. He reaches up, still waiting.]

Oh.

[Disappointing... His hand pauses again, like that news makes him reconsider, but after a beat he taps the vita into Sato's palm and jerks back to keep his arms out of range.]

Are there any others? You can play some of those games with more than one person, can't you? [Can he steal one from someone who won't threaten to kill him all the time, basically...]

[If Sato wasn't already basically squinting all the time, that little tap would deserve narrowing his eyes. As it is, he pulls back his hand a little bit and concentrates briefly...]

I don't know of any others. And you'd need someone to use the phone network to let them connect.

[It's at about that point that something pulls the Vita out of Warrick's hand, leaving it floating in midair for a moment before being dropped in Sato's hand.

That same monster as before, a couple feet taller than Sato himself and with reach to match, is invisible without that surge of delighted murderous intent behind it. Unseen, it stands off to the side again now that its work is done.]

I hope you looked after it.

[Sato frowns, checking for new scratches.]

[Ugh, still not what he wants to hear -- and he flinches away as soon as he feels the tug of something pulling the vita from him. Now that he knows it exists, he thinks he could keep things under control if that...shadow-thing came for him again, but he'd rather not test it. So he's just going to cross his legs and sit far, far away from Sato, still in the air.]

Of course I did! I didn't just steal it to get back at you. I was careful. Breaking it wouldn't do me any good.

[Satisfied with his game console's condition, Sato looks back up at Warrick, contemplative even as his free hand slowly, casually drops to the hilt of his machete.]

You didn't? It's good to know I'm not the only one who appreciates a good game.

Most of them were bad games.

[He narrows his eyes at that hand. Fuckin...stop...]

I mostly played the diva one.

[Although it's basically impossible to tell the difference between this and his earlier 'irate' act, Sato's reply seems a little bluntly cranky in response.]

Spelunker is a classic of its time.

Yes, well, I'm certain you are, too. Look at those wrinkles.

[Warrick also needs to stop. Sassing is inevitable, though.]

[That's about the point at which, in one quick and smooth motion, the machete is out and Sato throws it. It's no throwing knife, but it's still an unpleasantly sharp object flying directly at Warrick.]

[Well, that wasn't a very masculine scream just now, was it? As much as he'd hate to admit it, he hasn't had quite the same grasp on his shield-making since the last scare Sato gave him -- and he was never really all that great at making them in the first place. He manages to use the coat's magic to move enough to not take a direct hit to the vitals or anything, but...]

Ow! What the hell is wrong with you? [On the bright side, digging the machete out of himself means that Sato can't just go and get it. Ugh!!! Now he has to heal himself, this man is such a waste on his magical resources.] I gave it back, you creep!

[Sato laughs when he hits Warrick, an abrupt change from his irritated look not moments ago. This is fun, especially when the monsters in the tunnels were starting to get boring -- either too easy or just unkillable at his level. This is a happy, challenging medium.]

How long did it take you to return it? I think I'm owed compensation.

[Sato's 'black ghost' shimmers very faintly into visibility, semi-translucent for a moment before becoming completely opaque as it crouches down like an Olympic runner waiting for the starter pistol -- or in this case, getting ready to launch itself up into the air like a dog after a green, meaty frisbee.]

[He really needs to stop associating with this maniac...especially since the sight of the shadow thing makes him swallow hard and shift into a ready stance. The machete is bigger than his knife, at least, and lighter than his axe. Still having flashbacks to the time a card soldier child kicked his ass.

...Then again, Fred kicked everyone's ass except Selva's, and she hadn't given him a fair chance.]

It was an eye for an eye.

Old-fashioned vengeance? I wouldn't have figured you for the type... but it suits me just fine.

[Get ready to move, Warrick, because the creature can really jump, reaching up with one clawed hand to try pulling him out of the air. Sato, on the other hand, is still cradling his precious Vita in one hand, not too inclined to enter an actual fight himself.]

Hey -- hey! [HEY!!! This isn't fair, like, at all, and not just because dodging in midair is pretty hard. He swings the machete down towards the ghastly arm with force to make up for the lack of faith in it he has. Those years ago, with that shadow creature... The sword didn't do shit.] After all those horrible things you did, I did one thing, would you stop!

[Okay. Okay, some kind of shield to separate them, that would be good. Even with as hazy as it is.]

I owe you much worse, you old codger!

[And it doesn't do shit here either. Yes, the machete digs in, cutting the arm half-off, but there's no blood, no reaction from the thing. Not even anything inside it except more of whatever weird black stuff it's made out of. As it lands back down to the ground, the half-severed arm just slides back into place as if nothing had ever happened.

Sato himself just keeps smiling.]

Maybe next time you'll follow through on that!

[He says, egging Warrick on. In the meantime though, his precious game console... he'd rather not have it get broken or stolen again in the kerfuffle, so it's about time for him to turn to leave and let the ghost keep Warrick busy. On the loosest of orders, the thing speaks on its own: an even more staticy, burbling version of Sato's own voice, parroting the opening of just about any fighting game arcade mode:]

F̪̰͍̞̩i̝̻̲̻͓͔͔̰̳g̪̙̝͎͎ͅh̥͚͔t̟̫̹͕!̣͎̝̥̰̞̬̼̲

[FUCK YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU STAND FOR]

I swear, if you try to do a goddamn fatality on me --

[He is so, so sick of your shit, Sato... Man, how was he supposed to fight this thing, though? Emma had used her vorpal blade, Ozma had hugged the frickin' thing, but him? He's useless unless he can bleed on it to death. He readies the machete anyway, shield coming up so he's fighting sword and board, and curses himself for how he's literally going through dumb fighting game moves in his head to see if that can help him stay alive in this. Bait it out first...]

[Sato, at his usual even pace, just wanders off between a couple buildings, vanishing from view.

Fortunately, Sato's extremely average in his ability to keep his IBM out, and that means that by now, time is on Warrick's side. Just have to lame it out like it's Cross Tekken and run the clock down until the thing disintegrates again.

It's hard to say what it's thinking when it doesn't even have a face, but it doesn't take any work to bait it out, leaping (literally) at the chance to go for Warrick again with a slash of its claws.]

[This time, Warrick leads with his shield first. He's never used it this way before, generally keeping to walls or bubbles, but when Tom had briefly stolen his power, he'd used the shield to swipe at Emma and send her crashing back. He should be able to rebuff those claws enough to hack the machete into the arm again...

He goes for its elbow to see if that's an easier cut, wondering if it follows the same principles as human anatomy despite it not having bones to catch a blade on to begin with. Unfortunately, this focus on one arm does leave most of his body open for an answer.]

[The amount of force behind those claws is enough to rebound violently off the shield, giving Warrick a nice clean shot at the thing's elbow -- the forearm comes off, streamers of the black ribbony-particulate at the edges.

But as before, it doesn't seem to bother the thing, and before the arm even has a chance to pull back together there's enough of an opening for it to grab Warrick's front, burying claws in and dragging him back down to earth with it, slamming him into the ground.]

[Any satisfaction he would have had at disconnecting the arm fully is dashed the instant he feels the shadowy fingers clasp at him. The brief second he has to register what's happening is almost cartoony. His eyes widen and in his surprise, he drops both the weapon and the magic holding his shield together. Great. Wonderful.]

AHHH!

[The breath goes out of him and there's a gross sort of crunching noise when he hits the ground. He struggles to gasp, but at least he can tell he doesn't have any bones jammed into his lungs or any other organs they shouldn't be in, and his magic is already working away at setting everything to rights. Warrick scrambles blindly for the machete once he's confident in an arm, but until he can get that, all he can do is fight off attacks with some keep-away kicks. It's kind of pathetic, but he's trying to be scrappy, okay!!! The machete is taken up like Warrick's a stereotypical masked serial killer, blade down, once he finds it, and he starts trying to stab into the creature with all his strength.

He's...not used to machetes.]

Ḩ̛̺̮͍̱͔̫̫͎A̧̱̪͈̲̮͢ ̗̟͉̥̘̜͎̳͍H͢҉̞̺̪͍̮͠Ḁ̶̝̹̹͙̝̟̞͠ ̶̖̰̹͍̜̲H̷͖̠̦̻̤̮͍Ą̜͍̼́͟ ̨̺̦͍H̡͔̠͖͈͎̞̻Ą̧̬̗̘̘̩̥̞͇̳

[The thing laughs, toothed maw cracking open again. Any initial satisfaction is likely to fade as long bandage-y strips and blobs pull the severed arm back together. It can be stabbed, but as before, the thing doesn't seem to have bones or organs or anything to really damaged.

But it is starting to fall apart again, and the edges of the stab wound don't come back together as well as the arm did, fraying into dribbles of blackness. That doesn't stop it from returning the favor and slicing into the machete-wielding arm with sharp claws, continuing to do its best to maul Warrick even as it starts to dissolve.]

[The is useless -- and worse, it feels useless. Even if it isn't coming back together with that same fervor, he knows he isn't wearing the thing down. He hadn't done nearly as much last time he encountered the shadow, but it had broken down just as fast, so even as he continues to stab at it he can feel his will to do so disminishing. The pain of the claws slashing through his coat and the wetness of the blood coming up is the last straw, and he abandons the machete in favor of clasping his hand over the wound and rolling onto his side to keep it out of reach of more attacks. So useless. He's useless. Again.

At least he would fully heal, soon. He could do that.

God, he really misses Emma.]

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[video - for the good of all of us (except the ones who are dead).]

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