I didn't think, just reacted, more motes burning as I twisted around and cut out with my hand, sliding under what should be an impossibly firm grapple and sliding free.

Another limb lashed out to grab me but this time I could see it coming easily and evaded the clinch attempt.

However before I could so much as think of counter attacking I caught sight of a bright flicker and roar from my side.

I half twisted, half spun back into my own shadow, appearing in an area clear of the immediate threat.

My armband was squawking again but now it was literally squawking, making a rather mangled sound as I looked over at it.

A hunk of rebar only a few inches long was stabbing through it partly into my arm.

Huh, hadn't even noticed that.

I yanked it clear pulling loose a bloody tip, the blood stopping instantly like some sort of action movie wound, though the device failed to spark or make traditional Hollywood 'broken machine' noises for my amusement.

Shame that. More so that my vital monitor and source of battlefield intelligence had apparently just bit it.

The Simurgh was no longer in sight, my eyes flickered over the area catching sight of my 'attacker' someone with what looked like a big flamethrower tank on their back, only the 'fire' they spat was freezing over the area despite appearing as pale blue flames. Tinker? Blaster? I had no idea.

Either way they were quickly tackled to the ground by someone in a bright yellow and red outfit who quickly got their arms up and pointed harmlessly off to the side of the street.

Things were getting back under control fast. Only a few capes had actually gone berserk and now that the telekinetic storm of debris and horrificnoiseof all of it was gone it was easy to pick them out from the confusion.

The broken arm device made another mangled sound that was almost but not quite words and moments later bright yellow poofs of containment foam kicked up around me hitting several of the immediately crazed figures, with a mixed degree of collateral damage.

How the hell had they even deployed those-

It didn't matter.

Of the rest, those fighting fit were already splitting up into three groups, a large one staying, two others moving off.

Lacking a better idea of what was happening I jogged for the closest 'hero' and called out "Hey!"

The guy was wearing a gold and silver get up with black highlights that looked almost like a suit.

Accordingly I immediately mentally labeled them 'Mr. Bling Suit'.

Well they took one look at me and promptly flipped their shit, calling out in alarm, "Another one!" and pointed at me.

Accordingly to the action a little canister popped up beside me. It literally popped, with a little pop sound like one of those cork firing pop guns.

It then immediately exploded into a rapidly growing yellow mess of containment foam.

Shit!

I jumped back, evading with at the barest edge of my 'mundane' ability.

I was already running a lot lower on motes then I had wanted to be. I'd recovered a lot via stunting, a way to recuperate energy via excitingly flashy maneuvers, but between supercharging my attack on the Simurgh and utilizing Bloodless Mirk Evasion twice I'd used up a lot more then I'd managed to recuperate.

If I wanted another chance at landing a hit on The Endbringer, I couldn't afford to burn more like that.

"Hey! Not crazy!" I called out warningly, why the hell were they attac-

Oh right, the Anima Banner. As a Slayer when I used a certain amount of power from my larger well of energy that thing showed up. It was bright, flashy, and explicitly had the power to scare the living piss out of my enemies. Unfortunately even without that psychological effect it was still I against flipping rage dragon made of green hate fire.

"You're not?" Came a quick question.

"Would I be talking if I was crazy!?" I demanded more then a little pissed at the friendly fire. Understandable or not.

"Whatever! What do you want?" Mr. Bling Suit rudely demanded adding to the negative stereotype of 'Golden finery equals asshole'.

"My communicator got wrecked in the fight! What are we supposed to do?" I asked in as polite of a pissed off brazen yell I could managed.

"Fuck!" they eloquently responded, "You going to burn me if I get close?" he asked.

"Only if I hate you!" I stated.

He looked at me.

I snorted, "no!"

Someone laughed, it didn't really seem the time but I wasn't going to call them on it.

They jogged over, "Okay who are you?"

"Malfean," I reported gritting out the name.

He touched the button on his own fancy little armband, "Malfean blew his communicator."

"Roger, is he still able to engage?" came the quick response.

I drove a fist into my open palm.

"Looks like," was the response.

"Tell him to head south. We're attempting to funnel The Simurgh to that area. Support personnel will be ready with a replacement," Came the response.

That was... which group again?

~The Left one~

"Head that way!" Mr. Bling Suit responded pointing in the direction the little voice in my head had suggested.

"Thanks," I responded as I started in that direction at full speed.

As I did I took stock of my injuries. I was cut up a bit, though my exalted constitution was keeping me from bleeding out. I'd taken a few bruises and my arm was killing me, but overall I was a lot more functional then I was normally used to.

~I'm working on fixing that up~

I blinked, they could do that?

~Yes~

Well... that was just... neat.

~I'll take the praise where I can get it. Try not to get pulped though even I've got my limits!~

I'd keep that in mind.

~Why don't I believe that?~

Because my awesome mental side kick is as intelligent as they are useful?

~Just go punch things already!~

That I could do.