Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20160708180726/@comment-25389303-20160724094150

"We've got company, boss," one of Smiler's killers muttered, as he dropped his rifle and rolled up his sleeves as if preparing to fight bare-handed.

"I know," Diaboli growled back, shrugging off his useless rifle and dropping his pistol. Thankfully, the Hand of Charon had been designed by its original creator to be strong but light, and so was made of a titanium-like metal which was uneffected by the magnets, although he was forced to jettison the numerous tooth-like blades which ran down the outside length of the whip. Smiler, on the other hand, was forced to abandoned all of his weapons - throwing his trench coat aside due to the sheer weight of the the knife blades hidden inside.

Even if he couldn't see them, Diaboli could sense the newcomers' presence in front of him. While it was true that he was out of practice, he had still been one of the best thieves back in his home city in Mistral, and was more than experienced in working in the dark.

There was a loud clank as Tragoedia was forced to the ground by the sudden magnetic pull, which initially took Diaboli by surprise. He had known that his creator had designed him to be non-magnetic, as it would have no doubt damaged his internal computers if he was, so the fact that the magnets had any effect on him was confusing. Then he realised the cause of the problem - the additional armoured plates he had outfitted him with. It was those that were holding him down. Tragoedia seemed to realise this before Diaboli had, and after forcing himself to his knees the giant lizard-like android began the long and difficult process of ripping off the plates from its body. It would be several minutes before he would be able to move properly, but thankfully none of the Syndicate members appeared particularly enthusiastic about moving within his reach to stop him.

Diaboli quickly assessed the situation. They were mostly unarmed, save for the few personal non-magnetic weapons they possessed. But at the same time, their opponents didn't have any ranged weaponry either. If it developed into a close-combat brawl, he still thought his chances were good, provided they didn't have any other tricks up their sleeves.

He decided to play it safe, though. At least until Trago was in a state to fight again. He made his whip-hand snap at the air loudly, creating a sonic boom to draw their attention to him.

"Call me Diaboli. Only my friends call be Decadere," he called out to nobody in particular. He stepped forward from his group. "And from the sounds of it, I've found who I've been looking for."

His serpent-like arm snaked forward, hovering just above the ground and sweeping the area in front of him, making sure nobody tried attacking him. But the sounds of approaching footsteps made the whip flich slightly, before it retreated and coiled itself around Diaboli's waist.

"You know who I am. At least give me the privilege of seeing who I'm talking to."