Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26104528-20150531022109/@comment-26130256-20150704035210

Azzie steered on, sideswiping the tanker with the truck's plow and lifting to ensure that it flipped over. Slowing down, he backed the truck into an alley, leaving the armored-plow-and-gun side facing the field of battle.

Lowering the plow enough to serve as cover, he shot into the scattering Dawnies with Moxie, going for more controlled bursts while Fritz unloaded some truly impressive supressing fire. It was a rare day when someone could out-spray Azulius and his weapon, but today was definitely a rare day.

"Hey, your contract was with me, right?" he shouted to the Eliminator-in-training. "Cause if you write this off as overtime, plus roping me into this, we could cash out."

(A few minutes earlier...)

Six floors up, on a building overlooking the spike strip ambush, two more mobsters were talking.

"I'm telling you, man.  Our job is as much symbolic as it is practical," the muscular one said, checking the Dust loaded into his warhammer. "People these days just don't bother looking up.  We've become so focused on the daily grind that we neglect questions of a more metaphysical nature."

"Do you always philosophize like this before a hit, Blaine?" the thin one muttered, hefting his lance onto one shoulder. "Because if so, I completely understand why people shoot at you." The wind gusted, flapping the lancer's rabbit ears like windsocks.

"Ignoring the problems of our day ain't going to solve them, Scarab.  Besides--"

The earthshaking *SCREEEE-BOOM!* of the convoy hitting the spike strip cut short Blaine's rebuttal. They walked to the edge of the building, overlooking the damage their coworkers had caused before the Black Dawn poured out of their vehicles and opened fire. Cordera had found an alcove in the building to hide in, and was firing grenades in a high arc towards the cultists before detonating them. The new guy was running like a madman towards anything that could provide cover, then running as his shelter got destroyed, spraying his gun like a madman as he went.

"Haha, what did I tell you?" the Faunus smiled, a rare expression for him. "That new kid Tomillo?  He could dodge the rain if we gave him enough caffeine."

"I'd bet some good money to see that.  Hey, waitaminute, does that guy have thermite?" Blaine asked, pointing to the one Black Dawn still next to the tanker truck.

"Son of a motherless goat.  We don't get paid enough for this," Scarab complained, jumping off the building. As he fell, he aimed his lance towards the wannabe suicide bomber, hoping he could spear him with the force of impact.

Not wanting to be late to the violence, Blaine jumped towards the thickest knot of cultists, focusing his Aura into the end of his hammer to make as hard of a shockwave as possible. Just before impact, he shouted the battle cry that had become his nickname among the Cardamom family:

"CANNONBALL!"