Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-25389303-20190608230100

"Holy shi--!!"

The sharp curse barely had time to leave Diaboli's lips before he found himself suddenly weightless as the bare concrete suddenly fell away beneath his feet. Spinning in mid-air, he instinctively lashed out with his whip-arm, managing to find purchase above his head just as his feet sunk down into the ocean of heaving flesh below. Within a heartbeat, he felt a dozen gnashing teeth sink into his ankles, and soon after the black mass swirling around him was illuminated by a bright flash of white light as his Aura burned in fierce defiance to their ravenous jaws. Even with its protection, though, he nonetheless felt countless stabs of pain radiate up his legs - growing in size and intensity with every passing second.

As if ensnared by quicksand, Diaboli felt the pull of the endless Grimm vermin as he struggled to free himself from their bloodied maws, and in a moment of panic he swept his free hand across his body in an attempt to brush off some of the more ferocious rats. In a moment, the limb was entirely engulfed in black fur, and fresh waves of pain flared up all the way to his shoulder. For the briefest of seconds, Diaboli wondered whether this was how he'd meet his end - eaten alive by a swarm of rats in some god-forsaken, Grimm-infested hellhole in the middle of the ocean.

But a second later his vision disappeared as his body was suddenly engulfed by cleansing flames - countless lashing tongues burning indiscriminately as they incinerated the rats by the hundreds. Immediately he felt the weight pulling him down disappear, and the next thing Diaboli knew, he was standing on solid ground once again, up and away from the sea of Grimm festering below.

Standing at the edge of the pit, Trago stood - arms raised, and unleashing a thousand hell's worth of flames upon the soulless creatures scattering quickly beneath them. Diaboli's lizard-styled bodyguard appeared completely undaunted by the fact that he was utilising his ever-dwindling life's blood to fuel his wrathful inferno, and had seemingly resigned himself to purging the area of Grimm taint as much as inhumanly possible.

"Commander?" Trago eventually asked in his new, almost humanlike voice, as the metal warrior turned itself to face its master. For the moment, at least, it seemed as if the Grimm had been stalled. "Are you all right?"

"Ugh...never better..." Diaboli grunted, frowning as he hurriedly inspected himself. With a sigh, he shrugged off the smoldering remains of his jacket - its blood-stained, hole-ridden skeleton now burnt to a crisp.

"Well, thank you for ventilating my suit..." he grimaced, before noticing bloodied footprints being left in his wake, no doubt caused by the dozen-or-so cuts decorating his shins. Diaboli's concern was not so much his panic-inflicted wounds, however, but on the effect of his bleeding on his expensive shoes.

"Ah...not the Valean leather! Bloody hell..."

Forcing his hobbled legs into a purposeful stride, Diaboli began walking in the opposite direction to the ever-expanding chasm waiting to swallow them all. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, that meant crossing paths directly with the other surviving criminals - who appeared to be regrouping after their relatively inconclusive battle with the MPD.

To his side, Diaboli watched as a second swarm of rat Grimm emerged from the ground. But rather than immediately charge towards the much larger and closer group, they appeared to immediately beeline for Diaboli instead.

This time the crime boss was ready, though. A series of shark tooth-shaped blades extended down the length of Diaboli's whip, which he quickly began to spin in a wide circular motion. He kept up the momentum, until eventually all that could be seen of his arm was a large white blur. As the mass of rats sprawled forwards, Diaboli allowed their mindless bloodlust to carry them straight into the waiting blades. The vermin died by the dozen as they were continually eviscerated by the monster-slaying Grimm-blender that was the Hand of Charon.

"Come on, I don't think these Grimm respect orderly lines..." he said to Trago, leading his robotic companion as they beat a hasty yet cautious retreat towards the other survivors. As they neared, Diaboli motioned with his free hand for the group to start moving the other way.

"Let's go! Walk and talk, people! Walk and talk!" he shouted, taking his eye off the encroaching Grimm for a moment to observe the familiar grouping, taking note of the new faces among their number. He sensed a degree of tension in the air - and after everything he'd been through in the last hour, he felt a wave of weariness and dread that he simply couldn't bring himself to tolerate any longer.

"...And unless you want to be picking your teeth up off the floor, don't shoot each other. Save the animosity for these rat-looking bastards."