Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-25389303-20190911225429

The cold ocean water closed around Diaboli like an icy fist as he delved into the darkness, threatening to sap the unsteady resolve keeping him on this suicidal course. He thought he could see a faint, shapeless mass drifting idly beneath the ship. It was within diving distance, Diaboli reasoned - but just barely.

In such a perilous situation, every second was more valuable than a thousand gleaming diamonds, and so the mob boss pushed on. Down, down, down. Down into shadows as black as pitch, and teeming with unnatural life. He felt their hunger and rage clawing at the edges of his mind, and at any moment Diaboli expected to find himself swarmed by countless black, writhing bodies. But amidst the boundless bloodlust, he felt something else. Confusion, and distraction. What limited attention span these Grimm creatures had was focused squarely on a source of food just out of reach, blinding them to all else that moved.

Diaboli capitalised on this directionless, and focused on pushing all dark and sinful thoughts from his mind. As his awkward limbs slowly settled into a comfortable rhythm, he allowed his thoughts to drift into state of grey nothingness that was as devoid of emotion as humanly possible - a feat made easier by the numbing coldness quickly spreading throughout the mob boss' entire body. Briefly, Diaboli became aware of another human life nearby, and a momentary uneasiness took hold in his mind. It was not an uncertainty born from concern for their wellbeing, though. The fear was instead that they might bring the monster's wrath down upon him as well.

The thought faded as their attacker's titanic form suddenly emerged from the gloom, so suddenly that Diaboli had to turn aside to avoid colliding with its scaled body. It was anatomically squid-like, Diaboli decided uncertainly, though unlike its natural counterpart this monstrousity's dark, rubbery body was clad entirely in overlapping bone plates. And like a suit of scaled armour, scarcely a weakness could be seen. To Diaboli, it was almost as if this foul creature's maker had been aware of his plan back all along, and had included this obstacle purely out of spite.

A growing tightness in his chest reminded Diaboli of his impending deadline, and with great reluctance he distanced himself from the creature's impenetrable hide. Despite his previous faith in his upgraded weapon, he knew that to attack from this angle would be pointless. A titan of this size needed to be felled by a single, surgical strike in a place of vulnerability. Anything less, and all of them would die.

Of that, Diaboli was certain.

As the relentless assault on the ship above intensified, Diaboli continued circling the distracted creature in search of a weakness to exploit. For the longest time, his hopes were in vain, and when he finally spied an opportunity, he was already considering retreating to the surface for more air. For the briefest of seconds, Diaboli glimpsed a flash of red within the black and white pattern, and after swimming over to it, he found a discrepency in the structure of the creature's armour. In this particular spot, the scales were larger and thicker - clearly protecting something of great importance. With a small, pained smile, Diaboli decided on his target.

The monster's eye.

---

Up above, a certain robotic bodyguard continued the struggle against the seemingly endless number of dark tendrils threatening to pull their weakened vessel beneath the churning waters. When simply punching the flailing limbs proved ineffective, Trago had proceeded to tear the belt-fed LMG from the ship's aft and fire it at the encroaching tentacles. The explosive rounds ripped into exposed flesh with devestating results, and yet the ship only continued to dip deeper into the oncoming waves.

During the conflict, the numerous sub-systems previously disabled by the nullifying force unleashed on the now-overrun facility slowly began to come online again. Securing a faint connection with the mainland, the A.I. succeeded in sending out a routine report to base before the signal was lost again.

Directionless, the robot began to drift aimlessly about the yacht - firing upon anything that dared approach him. His vigil was only interrupted by unprecedented sound of mocking laughter drifting across the deck, and upon turning to face the source, Trago found one of his master's companions mid-rampage. The A.I. had witnessed this one fight in the auction hall, shortly before they had retreated to their current vessel. A formidable foe. But now, weary and distracted. For the briefest of seconds, the LMG at his side grew silent as his sharp orange eyes turned away from the Grimm's ceaseless thrashing, and fixated on the Engelnacht heiress.

Trago considered how many bullets would be required to bring her down.

---

Try as he might, neither Diaboli's strength nor guile proved great enough to overcome the overlapping scales shielding the Grimm's massive eye. Beneath his hand, the Grimm was still and silent. It was as if the creature's attention was focused solely on his companions above, to the point where the crime boss doubted it was even aware of his presence. And why would it be? He was little more than a grey speck on the edges of the creature's consciousness. Harmless, and insignificant.

In that moment, something awakened in Diaboli. Feelings of inadequacy, previously laid to rest, came alive with the same burning urgency as they had in his youth. And with it, other wounds long-thought healed began to bleed. Betrayals old and new stabbed his heart like red-hot pokers, whilst images of diabolical punishments, drawn from fantasy and memory alike, flitted through his mind with a sickly sweetness known only to those who had felt true hatred. The facade of control Diaboli had maintained up until this point came crashing down as years upon years of fatigue and disappointment overwhelmed the walls he had built in his mind and soul.

Closing his eye, Diaboli gave in to the rush of it; embracing his malevolency like an old friend. And then, with a sigh of resignation, he fed it to the Grimm. One by one, he channelled them: his thoughts, his emotions, his memories, and his burdens...all flowed freely from darkest pits of Diaboli's very being. He offered them to the world, along with a single question.

Do you see me now?

...

I see you.

So consumed by his buried thoughts was Diaboli that he hadn't felt the boney plates retracting from his touch. And when he finally gathered the fortitude to look up, he found the Grimm staring down at him with a blood-red eye - larger and wider than Diaboli had thought possible. In the centre of it, a yellow slit of a pupil burned fiercely, drinking in the dark, twisted energies Diaboli had exuded so powerfully. For the briefest of moments, Diaboli knew he had the beast's full attention.

Finally, Diaboli thought with a smile of relief, as he basked in the recognition of the only creature he knew held more hatred in its demonic heart than he.

And then he fired. A beam of pure energy, barely contained up until that very moment, exploded from his arm - rupturing the armoured plating of his weapon and shattering the Hand of Charon into a thousand pieces of twisted metal. Clutching his scorched hand to his chest as he spun away, Diaboli caught sight of the monster's giant eye imploding in a mass of blood and slime, just as the many tentacles arching towards him started spasming violently - as if struck by a thousand lightning bolts.

This was their chance.