I dot own Negima.
Took me long enough, that's for sure. Also, not being entirely clear on Brent's abilities, i'm going to improvise, bearing in mind his basic style and skill level. I'll try to keep it close.
/\/\/\
Ethan was investigating a 'reliable' tip from a heroine addict, a tip that would supposedly lead him to "Black Hood" the legendary vigilante assassin of the United Kingdom. He was told that a high profile cocaine dealer was next on his hit list. He was going to stalk the dealer until Black Hood made his move.
The addict was kind enough to provide an address when coaxed at knife point. The address was a relatively large flat toward the outside of southern Nottingham. He walked down the street in an ordinary white shirt, black pants, and black coat, which left his weapons limited to his cinquedias and the partisan he could summon. As he approached the flat it became obvious that the place was brimming with armed guards, apparently visible through the windows. 'Amateurs' Ethan thought.
He reached into the coat for his blades, but just as he placed his hands on the leather cords of the handle, an older man in a black turtleneck sweater with white, pulled back hair sprinted across the street, pulled a ski mask over his face, drew an antique revolver and kicked in the door.
Ethan stood, jaw agape. He quickly examined the street and thanked god that it was deserted. With that, he drew his blades and ran to the door of the house, from which 4 gunshots and the fleshy thuds of incredibly powerful punches could be heard. He was rudely greeted by a thug in a suit with a shotgun, who quickly fell to an instant movement spell and his swords. He slowly moved through the comfortably furnished house, examining drugs and dead thugs strewn about. Thugs, who had been dispatched with almost no struggle.
At the back of the flat was an office, from which the last of the altercation was heard, before silence. Ethan slowly opened the door that was still slightly cracked. As he did, he saw a beaten and bruised man in a navy blue suit with duct tape over his mouth being held as a hostage by the man in the mask and sweater, with his revolver aimed through the drug dealers head and at Ethan's. Just as Ethan came into view of the man, he fired, sending a cloud on bone, brain, and blood hiding a single high caliber bullet, towards Ethan. He twisted and dodged right, but the man in black already had the initiative and was charging at Ethan with his last round. He lunged the barrel closer to Ethan and pulled the trigger, but he batted it away just as the muzzle flashed and kicked the man off his feet. He flipped over backwards smoothly, landing crouched on his feet and punched Ethan in the stomach. He knew immediately that it was loaded with ki as he was forced backwards and had the air forced out of his lungs. His back hit the ground and he rolled back to his feet. The man in black charged again, this time Ethan jabbed at his face, he ducked, allowing Ethan to throw a powerful uppercut, that threw the man in black into the top of the door frame, and crashing to ground. As he tried getting back to his feet, he stepped on the small of his back, and yanked the ski mask off.
"Who are you?" Came a restricted, withered, Scottish voice.
"You first." Ethan said, sternly.
He sighed, "My name's Blackwood. Malcolm Blackwood."
Ethan was mildly surprised. "Black... WOOD?"
"Yes, why?" He asked, with a confused tone.
"Nothing." He responded, mentally chuckling. "That was some impressive fighting. How long have you been doing magic?"
"Long time. You?"
"Longer."
"Doubt it, you look like you're about 16 years old."
"Looks like it doesn't it? I've looked like this since you were still sperm."
Blackwood looked surprised before gaining an accepting look. "I've heard stranger."
"So you're part of the magical community?"
"I'm aware of it, but I'm just not much of a people person."
Without a grounding in the magical world, he needed another way to convince Blackwood to join him. "What about money? You must get quite a few goodies coming to these houses and busting in drug dealer's skulls."
"I've never taken anything that wasn't mine."
"You just do what you think is the right thing?"
"What is the right thing."
Ethan thought for a moment. "I'm going to take my foot off you. Are you going to run?"
"I find myself intigued, so no. I'd rather listen." He removed his boots from Blackwood's shoulders, he stood up and looked Ethan in the eyes sternly and confidently.
He extended his hand. "I'm Ethan Demandepace." Blackwood shook his hand. "There's a whole world you've never heard of, Malcolm. That world's at war. I want to end that war. Does that interest you?"
He thought for a minute. "Actually, yes."
"Will you fight with me?"
"I want to know more. Buy a me a lager or two, and I'll be all the more attentive."
Malcolm Blackwood has joined the party!
/\/\/\
"Well, you're the expert." Brent said, worried. "What's going to happen now?"
The two were inside Brent's room, nervously examining their situation. Ethan had killed one of his brothers, completing his treachery.
"It won't be long before a strike team is sent to investigate why that scholar never returned from his mission. I, already being a suspect, will be detained here. While they look for the body. Then they'll kill everyone involved, lock down the campus, find you and your brothers, kill you, and brainwash everyone here."
"Then we need to make sure they don't find the body."
"Oh they will." Ethan said, shaking his head pessimistically.
"How?"
Ethan pulled a crystal pendant from a loop on his belt. "Every agent carries one of these. It's a fantastic little gadget that can transmit simple messages, track agent positions, and, if necessary, look into the last moments of a dead agent." Ethan put the pendant away. "I need to get rid of mine. His too." He said, as if looking into the very face of impending doom. "We're wanted men. You, Me, Averus, Falco. The congregation has us marked, and if they get to us, they'll kill us and the students..." He looked grimly toward Brent, who watched like a child being told a ghost story. "They'd be fair game too."
Brent snapped out of it, looking furious. "Unacceptable. Absolutely not." He stood up and clenched his fists. "I won't lose anyone else. I've spent my whole life training to protect the ones I love. This is that moment." His rage subsided as he spoke those last words. It shifted, to an even, determined look with a tone of voice to match. His fists remained clenched, but no longer in anger. "You're the expert, so you tell me." Ethan looked up. "How do we beat them?"
Ethan seemed dejected. "It's just math Brent, there's 4 of us. A few thousand of them."
"Don't give me that!" He said, his demonic voice barely surfacing, giving his voice gravely emphasis. "Averus said you were at Aurelia. I know about Aurelia. The honor guard. You're supposed to the best of the congregation."
Ethan hesitated, and stammered when he spoke. "I. WAS. ONE. Of the best. They've definitely filled out their ranks with new masters by now. We would need help, and that means subverting congregation agents."
"So?"
Ethan seemed annoyed, like he was explaining what was already common knowledge. "So, you can't subvert a congregation agent. I joined because my family was killed, I had nothing. Even among those zealots I was the worst, most brainwashed psycho ever to leave the fortress."
"Then it'll be easy." Brent confidently folded his arms.
"Did you hear a word I just said?"
"You said you were the worst, and you came around didn't you?" Ethan's head snapped up from its resting position on his hands. "Besides, you said your life was mine." He quietly amused himself thinking that Averus's captured spirits didn't have anything on Ethan. "If we topple the congregation and save the class, we'll be even."
He thought for a moment. Stroking the slight stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "We'll need help. Only the best though."
Brent thought. "I know a few people."
"Let's make some calls."
/\/\/\
A.N. Not detailing every call. Just heads up.
Puget Sound, Washington State 3:03AM
Were it not for the rural night, obscuring every detail, the view from the house would be stunning. It was a two story log cabin, on an island only a few hundred feet across in any direction, connected by a wooden bridge, one lane wide to mainland. The mountains on every side of that lake on which it sat, adorned with lush green forest that sat untouched for as long as there was time, and broke only to frame the brilliant orange sunset against the infinite ocean a few hours prior.
Inside however, someone very special was meeting the rudest awakening he'd been pressed to know.
The old phone on the nightstand, clattered with a real metal bell and hammer, begging the man in bed to answer. He responded by picking up the receiver and slamming it down with all the force in his bulging arms.
Ethan looked at his phone and nostalgically thought how typical it was of that man. He called again.
The ringing filled the room. This time he brought the receiver to his ear. "Who the hell is this and why should I care?" The aging, but strong voice inquired.
"Bishop? It's Ethan."
"Ethan..." He paused to see the time. "3am. I take it it's important."
"It is." He stated uncharacteristically flat. "How soon can you be in Japan?"
"I could be there in a day. This time tomorrow. Should I bring anything?"
"Everything."
He was surprised. Ethan was normally much more professional when came to mercenary work. The fact that he would be so vague troubled him. Even so, they were nothing if not brothers in arms and he trusted his judgment, so he went downstairs and gathered his gear.
/\/\/\
The "gear" that Ethan and Bishop had in mind warranted commissioning a private flight. No airline in their right mind would allow such military hardware on their plane. Bishop had an air of experience around him that was unmistakable. He stood tall, confidently, and seemed to hold authority in any situation. His hair was cut short, graying on the sides. His upper body and arms bulged with hard muscle, adding to the authority he projected. For now, he wore aviator shades, classic jeans, and and tan leather jacket over an ordinary white t-shirt. The whole airfield seemed quiet and submissive as he surveyed the runways, waiting for his flight.
It didn't take long before the leer jet taxied to him, bowing its stairs for him to ascend. Before he did so, a squad greeted him warmly and took his bags onto the plane. One particularly chipper female attendant stood in front of him and bowed slightly.
"Hello Mr. Bishop. I'll be your personal attendant for the duration of the flight. It is my job to make sure every aspect of the flight is to your liking. Please note that the Gulfstream IV is equipped with a full kitchen and bar to prepare anything you may want. Is there anything you would like prepared now?"
Bishop was considered by the company to be a 'Class A' customer. His years working as a mercenary had endowed him with the wealth to travel anywhere in such luxury for the rest of his life, but he had always been content to avoid interaction where he could, causing him to buy the land and roads surrounding his house, to avoid any such contact.
"Bourbon on the rocks and a medium rare porterhouse steak please." He began moving towards the plane at his own pace, after the flight attendant who seemed as though it was her sole mission in life to serve this flight.
By the end of the flight, in his usual habits, had spent almost $3000 on fine cigars and Scotch. He had smoked and drank for most of his life. Since he was 16 he would sneak away with his fathers beer, liquor, and cigarettes after he passed out drunk before the TV. His reliance only deepened when he ran off to join the last years of the Vietnam War. He came from a hard life, scars that remained sore even 30 odd years later. Scars that left him with little desire to indulge in the material fantasies of most people, what he didn't spend on himself he often donated to charity, anonymously no less.
/\/\/\
The landing in Tokyo was uneventful. Predictably, he was catered to every step of the way. It didn't let up even as he left Tokyo International Airport. Stepping into the rain, a black limousine was waiting with a driver holding a sign with his name on it. Bishop walked over, and handed his bags to the man after he opened the door for Bishop. He made himself comfortable in the back seat and heard the voice of an old Scottish gentleman. "Bang." He said simply, already having drawn his antique revolver from under the white noise of the seat as Bishop sat down. "You're dead."
Bishop knew that voice without a moments thought. He had come to associate that voice with contempt. Not for the man who bore it, but himself. The bearer of that voice was a stern and rigid man, one who had solidified himself in Bishop's mind, for reasons he didn't know at the time and on to that day. Like a teacher who concerned himself not for the regard of his students, but for their well being. "Nice to see you too, Malcolm." He put the revolver away without moving his head from behind his newspaper. "I didn't know you learned japanese."
Malcolm threw the papers to his side haphazardly. "I didn't."
"Did Ethan tell you why he's rounding up the gang?" He said casually. Malcolm was old, clearly. His eyes were wrinkled at the corners and his skin had taken a very thin and pallid appearance. Yet, an air of youth remained around him. His skin was oddly taunt, and he dressed in away not befitting his supposed age. He wore a black turtleneck, with utility belts covered in dull rings and studs running from his waist, up around his shoulders like suspenders. Black slacks, black leather shoes, and round black sunglasses complimented his pure white hair, styled back and falling to one side.
"Rounding up the gang? It's just us here." He said quizzically.
Malcolm scoffed. "We're all that's left, mate."
Bishop seemed in disbelief, but not shocked. The way his teammates lived their lives, he didn't expect many would still be alive. "Just us three?" His tone was that of concern.
"As far as I know." He said sighing. His head then tilted to one side as if recalling what was next. "Cautio had a nervous breakdown. Rebecca, Akanar, and Peter are dead. Tanaka refused to join us. Nikki, Lukas, Mendoza, and Gerard are all missing."
Bishop looked at the ground. "That's a damn shame."
"It's criminal. We fought just as hard as them, but Tanaka just couldn't be bothered, and everyone made themselves scarce, I bet just to avoid being called upon again."
"Don't talk about them like that." Bishop snapped, very seriously.
"Oh please, we're all friends now?" Malcolm said sarcastically. Throwing his head to one side and picking the paper back up. "You didn't even like Mendoza."
"We were still comrades."
He scoffed. "Heh. Comrades. You used to call him that. In a derogatory way of course. You'd keep us all awake at night with your infantile bickering. Going on about the Cold War escalating and who'd win. Like children bragging about who's parents could beat who's. My dad could beat up your dad." He said, mockingly. "But hey, You're American, he's Russian, why not argue?"
Bishop sat back, ending the argument. Nothing Malcolm said was untrue.
/\/\/\
Brent stood atop the clock tower, surveying the campus as he did. That night however, Ethan joined him, making rounds about the entire complex, unable sleep as he knew the congregation would be here soon.
Brent stood coldly, soaking the the bone in the downpour, even beneath his robes and armors. The newly acquired light blue nodachi was secured to his back. Ethan, only in a black tee shirt, jeans, and a ski cap, all waterlogged and cold. He wore his chinese sword on his hip and both daggers on his lower back.
Ethan leapt from the building below the tower, a good 50 feet, and landed silently, hidden by the sound of the rain and distant thunder.
"Do you see anything?"
Brent was mildly irritated. He had come back with that same question every 15 minutes or so. "No, Ethan. Still nothing."
"Remember to keep an eye on the dorms, they may come for the students."
"They'd be so ruthless?"
"Only if they know I killed that scholar. If not, expect a small group."
Ethan leapt away again, tirelessly sprinting and jumping from rooftop to rooftop, quietly falling from his perches into places he thought they may hide.
After he was out of sight, Brent reassumed his silent guard duties. He became aware of someone behind him, he turned and began to assume a stance. Before he was ready, a downward sword slash left a massive gash across his chest, followed by a hard punch to the face that sent him flying off the tower, head first. Blood seeped from the remarkably straight and clean incision, and cloth cut from his robes fell heavily to the ground with a splat. As he fell, an arrow came at super high speed toward him, he twisted just in time to avoid being hit in his heart, and was instead hit in side, puncturing a lung. He hit the ground on one hand and one knee, clutching his side. As he saw the faint moonlit glint of another arrow, he phased into the shadow realm, leaving the first arrow to fall to the ground pathetically as its anchor disappeared by magic.
He returned in the shadow of another building, across the courtyard from the clocktower. He looked diligently for his attackers. First he saw the man on the tower. His face was obscured under a loosely drawn hood, but the opening at the front of his cloak, showed a multitude of daggers, gleaming menacingly, like the blood dripping from the tip of his shamshir that had left Brent with a memory on his chest. He next saw the archer, on the fire escape directly above him, he froze. In the shadows he could see a banishing pin on his wrist, he did not wear a cloak, instead simple, gray, leather pants, a pair of nun chucks on his thigh, and a quiver on his back. He was very muscular, but lean and agile seeming.
/\/\/\
As Ethan landed from his jump, a bo staff cracked him in the stomach from the back side of a chimney structure. He was spun into the side of it and was now pinned between it and the bo. The agent wielding it stepped out. She was short, with brown hair in a short braid, and a congregation cloak too big for her, obscuring all as the loose sleeves hid even her hands as they draped over the staff. She pulled back and began spinning both herself and the bo intricately, winding up for a sweeping attack. Ethan saw it and jumped, flipping backwards onto the top of the chimney that was about his height. As he looked back at her, she swung, destroying a sizable chunk of the bricks. He pounced onto her with the pin, but she rolled back and kicked him off. She kipped backwards onto his chest and slammed the bo edge on towards Ethans face. In time, he pulled the dagger from his sheath and held it flat at both ends to block the strike. He pushed back and threw his legs into the air, wrapping them around her narrow hips. He pulled her onto her back and stabbed hard in center of the chest. She showed a flash of pain, and then became serene.
/\/\/\
Brent quietly and quickly bounced off the wall in the alley, and jumped toward the agent. He grasped the bow by one end and faithfully swung toward Brent. He phased into shadows again and was now standing behind the archer. Still rapidly, he pulled the nunchucks off of his thigh and started making powerful swings, whistling with the high speed of the handles. A few hit Brent in the face, but the impact was not strong enough to hurt him severely, just a bit of bleeding. Through the flurry of blows, Brent caught hold of the hand that swung the nunchucks. He twisted it, bending the agent forward, and kicked him hard in the stomach. He then brought his elbow down on the back of his neck, breaking it and sending him through the grating of the fire escape to the ground.
/\/\/\
Ethan stood up and drew his sword, waiting for the inevitable next opponent, drawn by the noise.
As predicted, 3 others came. One on his left, huge muscles, at least 8 feet tall, vaulting over the side of the building to the roof, brandishing a hammer as massive as him. His clothes consisted of tattered brown shorts, and a long tattered scarf of the same color wrapping several times around his neck and up around his head life a hood. The next fell from the sky, presumably from a massive jump. He had long light blue hair, and a red congregation cloak. His sash distinguished him as a master slayer. The last was tiny. 5 feet tall, scawny, completely shrouded by his dark yellow cloak. A series of about 15 charms and runes hovered and swarmed around him. The group stared for a moment. Ethan broke the stalemate by leaping into the air a short distance and demonstrating his skill and agility with a flashy display of spins, kicks, slashes, and stabs. He finished in a mantis stance, finalized by stomping his foot on the ground and holding the sword in behind him vertically. He stared as coldly and unflinchingly as a sheer mountain face.
The mage in the center spoke. "I've never suspected an agent of the brotherhood of treachery. And nobody suspected you, the great lord Echo." Ethan just stared back. "What do you hope to gain? What can you acquire that hasn't already been granted? You are a disgrace to your title." Still, he stared, the rain pouring in sheets down on his head. The mage looked at him with pure hatred. "Say something."
"I have nothing to say to someone like you." He said clearly and evenly, not wishing to repeat himself.
He stomped his foot forward. "Someone like me? Watch your step, Ethan. Remember, you were one of us."
"Once. But I can't shut my eyes to reason anymore. I can't sit back as more innocents are harmed. I've taken a new oath. One to protect this demon I was sent to kill."
"Conspiring with the DEMONS?" He hollered. "You've sunk so low."
"Sunk? No. I've reached a level no one else in the congregation has. I'm the strongest agent in the brotherhood, and now, my eyes are open to the lies that still tie you to your shepard. You will never reach my level, not if you fight me here."
"Arrogant bastard! You're outnumber a hundred to one! You'll die here!" With that, he charged towards Ethan, conjuring fire in one hand and lightning in the other. Tendrils of flame broke away and dissipated behind him, and lightning arced towards the ground in random bolts as he ran up at massive speed. He raised his hand, arcing the lightning towards Ethan.
Just before he was in striking distance, Ethan jammed his sword into the ground, and drew the banishing pin to attract the lightning. When he was in arms length, Ethan grasped the hand that held fire and with little resistance, twisted it forward, and thrust the pin into the agents chest. He coughed up a healthy portion of blood before being lifted into the air atop Ethan's fist, dead instantly. The other two looked in horror, a master slayer killed so easily, his better supporting him like an umbrella, trading rain for blood that ran down his arm, turning it red. Ethan threw the body hard at the ground, landing at the feet of the larger opponent. He used the chance to charge at the artifacer in yellow.
/\/\/\
Brent looked over his shoulder to see the agent on the tower. He stood just as ominously as he did the moment before. Staring, as if all knowing and all powerful. Stoic, as if quietly drinking what knowledge he could of his opponent.
Brent stepped off of the fire escape and easily landed from the 15 foot drop before walking to the center of the courtyard. The agent mimicked and stepped down from the clock tower, his decent slowing as he neared the ground. He walked toward Brent with the moon at his back, silhouetting himself and obscuring his features. Only the cloak and the shamshir was visible.
The two stopped about 10 feet from each other. Brent stared the man in the face. "Why have you come?"
The man didn't move for a few seconds before pulling the hood off of his head. His hair was long and gray, falling back an unknown length into his cloak that took until now to notice it was black. His face was blemished with scars that Brent recognized. Werewolves, poltergeists, demonic blades, and lastly and most perplexing, dragons. "Don't play dumb."
He drew his sword, but didn't enter a stance. "You'll never take me or Ethan. Together we can't be beat."
"Untrue. And moreover, you're alone. What you forget is that I'm a trained demon hunter. You are a demon. And Ethan is alone, standing against at least 20 men of his own rank."
"That man I crushed was a trained demon hunter too. I've fought hundreds of self proclaimed demon hunters. As you can see, they've never beaten me." Through all this, Brent was recalling everytime an attempt had been made on his life by someone like that. Particularly the techniques they used, and the way he beat them.
He smiled. "Ahhh, but they were nothing like me, and him... well he was just a puppy, too ambitious for his own good. I promise, nobody else here is going to fall as easily as him."
/\/\/\
Ethan brought the sword down on the artifacer and tried to rend him in half. A magical barrier slowed his sword to a stop. As it happened, the man made a few signs with his right hand and a rune was drawn towards Ethan's face. When it made it there, it projected a column of energy and punched him backwards, where the huge agent waited for the proverbial pitch, holding his hammer like a bat. He used his sword to deflect and absorb the blow in such a way that he went flying straight up, mostly unhurt. In the air, the artifacer commanded 4 other runes to open rifts, and arrows, swords, spears, and anything generally sharp towards him. Ethan used more Ki to send himself downward, hard on top of the hammer wielding brute.
In a smooth swing of the sword and a flash of crimson, the man was cut almost in half, and Ethan stared back at the artifacer, again awestruck. After a moment of stand off, the portals let loose another torrent of generally unpleasant things, but Ethan let the mans body adsorb most of the flurry.
/\/\/\
Brent got into a low stance and held the sword with both hands. "Leave my friends out of this." He said seriously.
He looked slightly angry. "I haven't been told to kill them. And I won't take it upon myself to. Do you think I'm a monster? Like you?" He finished with a sneering grin.
Brent charged forward and faked him out with an overhand strike before coming in horizontally with the nodachi.
The agent simply blocked the strike with his shamshir, lifted his elbow with unprecedented force, and hit Brent in the chin. He was forced back and stumbled and regained composure just in time to see the shamshir slice towards his chest again. The heavier nodachi made it easy to block his strikes, powerful as they were. The agent moved too fast for Brent to counter attack, and he knew that if this continued he would be tired out or ambushed by someone else. He had to break the stalemate.
/\/\/\
Ethan kept his grip on the body and charged into the maelstrom. It didn't end until he was in striking distance and the man was forced to change the strategy. The torrent ended and Ethan tossed the body aside, then grabbing the agent by the shoulder and running him through. The runes and artifacts fell from their magical suspension and clattered to the ground, some breaking. Ethan let him fall and put his sword away.
He looked down at the bodies. Two men he would have called brother. Now dead at his feet. He thought again of the choice he made to abandon his service to the congregation, and felt strong doubt. The thought was set aside as he thought of why he left. His head looked to the courtyard. "Brent..." He ran off as fast as his feet could carry him.
/\/\/\
The duel continued with nobody gaining any significant ground. Brent kept backing up while blocking the swift jabs and slashes of the sword. The Agent pressing forward looking for an opening which Brent never gave. The courtyard however, meant he wasn't getting cornered anytime soon. Ethan ran to the edge of the roof and looked to where the sound of clashing swords could be heard. He couldn't pick out the name or face of the man Brent was tangled with, but he did know the black robe meant he was a veteran of at least a millennium of service. Beyond even that, he could see on the surrounding rooftops, and on ledges around the courtyard, many other agents of high ranks were watching the performance of two master swordsmen. He needed help.
/\/\/\
A knock on the door awoke Mana Tatsumiya from an otherwise restful slumber. Being the disciplined sort of person that she was, she shook off the hazy remnants of sleep quickly, she answered the door after the second set of knocks, as they sounded frantic to awaken her, but quiet enough not to disturb the adjacent rooms. She opened the door a crack and peered into the hallway, ready to jump for the nearest weapon if the situation was decidedly less favorable than normal. Ethan stood outside, waterlogged and smelling faintly of sweat, she also noted the vague presence of blood on his arm and shirt sleeves. The door opened a little farther. "Ethan? Is something wrong?" Her foot stepped back a little, again, closer to her weaponry.
"Mana, I'll give you $5000 for your services for the rest of the night." Ethan said quickly and mildly pleading. Her eyes opened further and her eyebrows turned in in a small amount of anger. He blushed a bit. "...That's not what I meant."
"I hope not. Why don't you clarify a bit?" She said, half serious, half teasing.
"We're under attack. I'll explain more later but for now I just need you to get a rifle and a vantage point. I'd even recommend waking Kaede and Ku." He finished quickly and sprinted down the hall. Mana changed out of her Pjs and got a more appropriate coat and pants for the rain before getting a Cheytac Intervention and two Desert Eagles.
/\/\/\
Two agents stood in front of the dorms admiring the technique of the duelists. Friends since their initiation, and always assigned to the same masters until they became slayers only just recently. Their first assignment, to capture or kill Ethan Demandepace. "Do you think the captain's gonna need help? He's old and this demon looks pretty good." The first said.
"Nah. He's probably seen guys just like him before. He's got a plan. I just know it."
He examined the fight a little more closely for a moment. "Wanna bet on it?" He said, starting to smile.
"Sure. How about if we need to intervene, you buy me a... old motorcycle. If he finishes it himself I'll buy you an old bike."
"You're on."
The two kept staring for a moment. From behind, The doors were shoved open with a bang and a sword was drawn from a leather scabbard. As the two turned, Ethan sliced ones throat, and spun into a side kick that sent the other flying into the air.
/\/\/\
The limousine pulled up to the campus. The driver turned around to Malcolm and Jason. "Here we are, gentlemen. Mahora Campus. Will you need any help with your bags? Perhaps an umbrella?"
Malcolm put down the paper. "That's fine. We'll get it from here."
The agent that Ethan has sent flying landed on the hood of the car and bounced off the crumbled front end to the ground beside the car.
The driver cowered and the two in back scrambled outside to asses the situation. The rain poured down as Jason stepped over to the body and crouched down by it. Malcolm stayed back, being even less trusting than Jason who had little to no faith left in the world. The agents eyes opened, causing Jason to stand back up and step back. He kipped to his feet and drew a short sword at the same time. The two drew the sidearms in their coats and shot him in the heart almost simultaneously. Without thinking or speaking, they went to the trunk and yanked it open, breaking the latch that they didn't ask the driver to open. Jason took a SCAR-H assault rifle and a few extra magazines. Malcolm, a Lee Enfield rifle and a handful of shells for both his pistol and his rifle, putting both in separate pockets.
Still, in near-perfect sync they ran on towards the school to help Ethan, knowing he was in trouble. As they ran by the driver side door, Malcolm stated simply. "Don't leave with our bags."
/\/\/\
Ethan ran towards the duel, still undetected under all the noise of clashing swords. He put his sword away and summoned his partisan. The deep red glow communicated his presence and the black robed agent drew a dagger from beneath his cloak and threw it. Ethan dodged easily and it went on to embed itself in the concrete all the way to the hilt. The next moment, he was swinging the partisan wildly, just short of Brent, who still stood his ground fearlessly. The man in black quickly lost control of the situation and called for help. "Come on you whelps! Time to stand and fight!" With that, the agents fell from the roof tops and ledges, converging on Brent and Ethan. Before they got too close, ones head exploded in unison with a gunshot, and three others fell to the ground, blood spurting from sudden holes in their bodies. The whole courtyard fell silent and motionless. On the roof above the dorms, Mana ejected the spent cartridge from her rifle. Down the way, Malcom did the same with his rifle, and Bishop kept another agent in his sights. The second explosion of motion inevitably came as the remaining agents split into 3 detachments and pursued Mana, Ethan and Brent, and Malcolm and Bishop. As the first agent crested the rooftop, Kaede tackled him out the air and kicked off of him, back to the roof where she waited for the next one. When two came at once, Mana shot one out the air with the Desert Eagle, while Kaede started to brawl with the other.
4 agents ran in mad sprints towards Bishop and Blackwood. One fell to Bishops rifle on the way, but the other three managed to evade and get in range of the two gunmen. One swung towards Bishop with a wicked curved dagger. Bishop jumped back and deflected the blade with his old Marine kabar, together it was enough to get him out of the way, barely. He dropped the rifle and allowed the sling across his shoulder to support it, and grabbed the pistol to put a round through the agents stomach, then his head. Malcolm got to one knee and placed his rifle on the ground gently, and took two old revolvers from his holsters. He fired two rounds, creating a thick cloud of smoke indicative of old black powder. They both spun on their heels around them, and pressed on. Bishop shot at one again with his rifle, nicking his arm and leg. They split up and went for both Blackwood and Bishop. Blackwood started to fire with the remaining ten rounds in his revolvers, but the agents was quick to dodge them all with a series of rolls and shorts jumps, when one such roll placed him and Malcolms feet, he smoothly got to his feet behind Malcolm and swung with a cutlass towards the base of his neck. Malcolm threw back his elbow and just clipped his nose, but followed up with a series of punches with no particular style or form that the agent couldn't seem to predict and stop. Malcolm stomped on the agents foot, hoping to stun him, but it was useless, the agent just swung his sword again. Malcolm ducked and rammed him in the stomach with his shoulder. As the agent got pushed back, Malcolm jumped back to his rifle and picked it up, the agent was already on his way over, brandishing his cutlass above his head. Malcolm lifted his rifle and fired, putting a stop to that.
The two looked around for the wounded agent, but he had fled. Knowing they had no time to waste, they pressed onward.
/\/\/\
Brent broke away from the fight with the veteran to stop the incoming agents. He ran straight into the six, but another .50 caliber round reduced it to five. Nevertheless, he summoned a portion of his dragon being, his arms burst into flames and turned to sleek black scales, glowing orange like the great fire inside him. His hands too became long and lanky with sharp claws at the ends, giving him all the more ability fight. The first agent drew a banishing pin and lunged. Brent carefully and quickly took his wrist and swung the agent by his hand at the others. He hit one and sent the two flying away. When the next came in with a battleaxe, Brent ducked under the first swing and sunk his red hot claws into his chest. He seized the element of surprise by popping out from behind the dead man and running the next agent through.
Ethan was standing his ground against the veteran, but that worried him. An honor guard slayer should be able to stay a step ahead of his opponent, but they were unable to read each other. Each move was planned a second before it was made, and every attack was parry to the one before it. They covered every fighting style they ever learned, tae bo, zulu stick fighting, kung fu, and even improvised a few completely original strikes. Nothing was connecting, and both their brains struggled to keep up. Akin to walking a tightrope of razorblades.
/\/\/\
Kaede was now fighting off two agents. Both were being kept back with bruising punches and kicks from the talented ninja. She had already knocked one out with a tornado kick to the chin, he sat limply and precariously on the edge of the roof. Even with the progress that they was making. The congregation force was still outnumbering them.
Mana was doing what she could to change that with the help of her rifle. But the agents below were extremely fast, and would skip from side to side and take a few steps backwards to throw off her aim. She inhaled sharply, shocked as the gravel on the rooftop crunched behind her. She put the rifle down and drew the two Desert Eagles. She reversed her stance and plunged them into the stomach of another agent. He used two rapiers and was readying a thrust, when he got caught with two guns in the gut, he used the off hand sword to deflect one hand, and dropped the tip of the other to do the same. She turned around and slammed the handle and her fist down on his shoulder, forcing him to down to one knee. She crossed the other gun over her wrist, which placed it aiming squarely at his temple. He dropped even further and swept his leg to throw her to the ground and spin up to his feet. He thrust a rapier at her, but as soon as she hit the ground with a hard thud and a wince of pain, she rolled back and kipped to her feet a few feet away. She pointed and shot 6 rounds that didn't hit. He got up close and swung the rapier that left a thin and straight slice near her neck, and another across her ribs. She stumbled and saw as the rapier was speeding towards her. Unable to dodge she moved backwards to try and get beyond his reach. She tripped on the ledge of the roof, and the rapier ran deeply through the top of her chest. Then she watched as she fell and the rapier was pulled out with a squirt of deep red blood.
/\/\/\
A sense of despair flared up in Brent. As if by instinct, he looked up to where he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword drawn from flesh. He looked in horror as Mana fell limply toward the ground, her pistols falling carelessly from her grip. He merged with the shadows he stood upon, and came barreling out of the side of the wall, catching Mana before she hit the ground. He rolled to one knee, cradling her, assessing the injury. She clutched the top of her left breast. From beneath her hand, blood pumped in rhythmic bursts that she was unable to stop. Their eyes met, pleading the other to help, and live. Completely uncharacteristically, she looked afraid. Almost as much as Brent. He helped apply pressure to stop the bleeding.
/\/\/\
The agent wielding his rapiers looked arrogantly down on what he thought was a kill, not knowing his strike too high. His head leveled out as he said to himself. "Where's the other girl?" In a deep cockney accent.
When he turned around, the back of Kaede's feet hit him square in the face with the force to shatter his jaw, dislodge 6 teeth, and crack his skull. None of which mattered as he tumbled to the ground, and broke his neck. She returned to her fight with the other two with a new motivation, agilely guiding her hand through a flurry of blades, knocking one out cold with a palm strike, and disarming the other by sweeping leg up and brushing his swords away. She took a simple stance, as he came to grips with the situation. He jumped up to get his swords out of the air, but she jumped too, and kicked him down to the roof of the building, knocking him out right next to his ally.
Brent heard deep breathing from behind him. The wounded agent was running up with silent footsteps, betrayed by his injuries that taxed his stamina. He predictably brandished a dagger backward over his head. Brent set Mana down, overcome by a vengeful instinct. He opened his mouth and out came a bellow of pure emotion. A roar with no trace of his mostly human appearance, it was pure dragon. Shortly following it was an expanding column of flame that engulfed him. He stopped both his roar and his fiery breath and walked over stoically as the agent tried to put out the flames, extinguishing in the rain. He swiped his claws three times, tearing him apart. He feel down, dead, charred, smoldering, and bleeding. He stared for a moment, after which, he used his claws to take a strip of cloth from his now tattered clothes to from a bandage. In the same burst of flames as before, his arms became human, naked as the cloth was burned away. He knelt down by Mana, and tended to her.
/\/\/\
Ethan stepped back and swung the partisan recklessly like an ax, a swing that was easily dodged, putting the necessary distance between one another to force them to a draw. All at once, Bishop and Blackwood walked up and aimed their rifles at the veteran, Kaede feel from the roof and stood menacingly with a throwing knife between each finger, and Ethan stared with his best evil eye at him.
He looked at the united force presented against him, and relaxed his guard. Indignantly, he looked at Ethan. "You think you've won? You think you've changed anything? This isn't over. Not even close. Traitors like you always get what the deserve."
Ethan looked back, not moving from his stance. "This treachery goes far beyond me, you blind old bastard."
"Then speak their names. Redeem yourself. Come back to the congregation where your talents can be used."
"I'll place my talents where they are needed, and in the doctrine to which we owe everything. The traitors lay in the council that have tossed the doctrine aside and brainwashed us. We're just pawns in a plot to exterminate otherworldly life."
He stared, utterly still for a moment. "We'll be back, Ethan. Someone will answer for these deaths. I promise." He sheathed his sword and fell into ashes. Ashes that seemed to decay further into nothingness.
Ethan recalled the partisan and stood, tired from the fight, mind racing for the next move.
He soon turned around, walking with purpose and direction, making orders like everything he needed to know had been granted to him. "Bishop, Malcolm, clean up any bodies on the ground and take care of any other evidence, the rain will wash away the blood. Brent take Mana to the hospital, not the infirmary, fake name if you have to, make sure nobody at the schools hears about it. Kaede, we're going to clean up the roofs." Nobody else said a word, just complied. Ethan had rarely spoken with such authority and clarity. Somehow, it was agreed that at least this once, he was in charge.