Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-25582638-20190409104846

The Snake quietened, the Swan steeled, drowning the stench of blood and screams corrupting the air with the sight of Hunters taking down every single grunts in a blink of an eye. Brunhilde narrowed her gaze as the weight of the situation sank in, the mask’s HUD detecting endless stream of life signatures from above.

If they retreat, SAINTs and police awaited them. But if they advance, they would be met with the force of SAINTs, remnants of police force, and Hunters. No left nor right to turn to; they were unceremoniously driven to a corner. But that didn’t linger in the mind of the Engelnacht heiress. A click of a tongue resounded from her swan mask-helmet.

Nozomi. It had been months since they first met, involving a certain incident around the commercial district. They weren’t close, nor maintained any contact of sorts. However, the mere presence of the detective Huntress here alone was enough to hold Brunhilde’s attention. Because wherever the detective Huntress is, there's a very high chance that that someone would be there- and here, right in this forsaken facility.

“We have to get to the other hallway. There's too many of them.” Said the king cobra faunus, nudging the group to move back. Between the two routes, choosing the area with the least Hunter presence is more manageable, Wynston thought; better winning chances against the enemies. Almost getting caught by two Hunters had already put them at potential risk at getting mobbed by other Hunters.

Brunhilde was about to retort, to tell that the Hunters would be swarming the facility anyway. But she stopped herself, glancing between the two areas connected through the hallway they're in. Delay the inevitable, or plunge down the rabbit hole.

“If they chase after us, I'll lure them as far away as possible,” Wynston continued, whipping out another long-barreled pistol from his coat. “I'll catch up with you after.”

“Playing martyr now, aren't we?”

The king cobra faunus just let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. He peeked a little behind the barrier, to make sure that the Hunters hadn't made their move.

“Let's go.”

After making sure that the young ones had began their stealthy retreat, Wynston started making preparations. Dust chambers turned, and injected the barrels with the pulsating power of Dusts; green and purple, red and green. And then the Snake pointed the muzzles at the opposite side of the hallway, ready to pull the trigger the moment the two closest Hunters decided to head to their side and spotted them.

At the back of his mind, blood slit eyes surfaced from the void, peering at the outside world as ghostly cracks of ice groaned against his ears. Wynston narrowed his eyes at the opposite side of the hallway.

After regaining her senses, Grave lazily tilted her visor up at the inspector, remaining quiet throughout the one-sided conversation. She took note of the stony confinement pinning her to the ground, trying to flex her fingers, but to no avail. Still not answering the inspector, Grave turned her head and found herself to be somewhere behind the SAINTs and the police- the enemy lines, to be precise. And they were gaining ground, thanks to a strange yet familiar man with a weird whip…

…. Wrong side

Worst, she could hear the choppers, followed by more ricocheting bullets and blades delivering judgement upon the damned. Reinforcements, probably Hunters. They wouldn't pull off such ambitious sting operation against a facility filled with criminals…. At least the law enforcement seemed to have some common sense.

This is still bad, Grave thought, and there was the raven-haired heiress and the rest of the security team that she had to find. Heaving a deep breath, she looked back at the inspector- a minor hurdle-, sorting out the new information and priorities as quickly as possible.

Police, gaining ground. Hunters, on the loose. The facility, on its way to Grimm-infested territory. Her bombs, in dire need of replenishment.

Actions to take: Get out of captivity. Wreak havoc. Escape, get out of disguise if needed. Find Brunhilde. Or maybe take over the control room.

Immediately, purple Aura surged around Grave. An Auric shockwave shoved from the inside, and the stone prison erupted.

Salvo of shards and debris of rocks haphazardly tore through their flight paths; some blasting towards the inspector and the unfortunate criminals who were too near to her, the few others finding their way to Jett and the police officers and Diaboli. Grave did a kip-up, hands making a quick swipe at her utility belt, and she broke into a sprint for the nearest pathway between the stalls, shoving the other officers along the way until she grabbed a female police officer by the collar. Muzzles trailed at her direction, but she made use of the officer as a meat shield to buy some time.

“Mind holding these for me?” She asked, voice almost like that of a feminine AI, thrusting a colorful batch of yellow and white tennis ball-sized bomb to the police-turned-courier. She followed up with a blast of Wind Dust against the woman’s chest.

“Wha-No-” With wide eyes, the policewoman yelped, back skidding roughly on the floor up to the front lines, whilst the round objects slipped from her arms and rolled around aimlessly.

The white ones pinged and promptly dismantled, oozing scalding hot steam that quickly spreaded from above and behind the enemy lines. A second later, the yellow bombs bursted apart, bolts of lightning slithering through the ranks of the SAINTs and officers alike with the guidance of the white mist. Then came the purple canisters, which Grave tossed indiscriminately as she ran for her escape route to deliver a parting and desperate attack in the hopes that they would help Brunhilde and the others.

The canisters clattered on the floor, rolling harmlessly for a few moments. With a hiss, they all glowed in eerie purple in unison, and brought upon a portion of gravity's power; gravity wells.