All Quiet On The Western Front

An amalgamation of soft breezes gathered upon a focal point; at the climax of its strength, Triggerman's dust colored poncho appeared, and from it, his full figure.

The Count was primed; the only thing that remained was Marlowe's orders.

"The drill is the same. The objective is nothing new. Grind," came his operator's directives.

With casual detachment, Triggerman set to the work at hand. The Count wouldn't stay at 6 for very long.

((Don't mod till Fenix shows))
Gungnir jacked into the net, thre powerful lightning bolts scarring the earth as he rose from it, a yellow aura covering him and dispersing as he stepped out. He looked at the navi across from him. His expressionless face staring hollowly at the navi as he walked up to it. He then realized how short it was, and looked down.

'You are that mans navi, correct? Your exterior is less than amazing, but your data is strong despite it,' but Sieg was more spirited about it,

"Thats all?! You'll outdo him in a second!" He shouted,

"Lets show him what you can do!!!"

Tensions are already brewing between the two--when they're suddenly flanked on both sides!



The two will have to fight back-to-back... Or engage in a bitter cockfight. Their choice!

Gungnir: 150
Triggerman: 140

Battle 1, Start!
"...not in the mood," Triggerman brusquely offered, without making an effort to crane his head. The navi was tall enough to fit half a litre of lies in him; the other half could just as well have been filled with rotting intentions, festering in the kind of fermented bullshit potent enough to be smelled across a distance.

But this one didn't have either; he was an empty litre, and Triggerman could detect it would be a fruitless effort to make an attempt to reap the liquor.

"Adios," he added as an afterthought, lowering his hat like a midnight preacher as he turned. From beneath his brim, he glanced an encrouching enclave of virii out of the corner of his eye. Hell's orchestra began to play, with the morbid screeching half twanged violas coming in first like a dying albatross.

But they weren't tolling for the slinger, in his mind. They were serenading the first in a series of casualties, applauding the scytheman as he brought his night chariot in tow.

Beneath the folds of his poncho, Triggerman's hand graced the handle of the .45, its cool touch like a catalyst for the lead that would fly soon.

"Don't kill them too fast... junior here wants to prove something to me," Marlowe came in abruptly.

"...what the hell are you mumbling about?" Triggerman jabbed, his expression unmoved. But he arranged the pieces; he probably owed the presence of the giant behind him to this character Marlowe had rendezvoused with.

"I'm handing you a shotgun and vulcan." Marlowe notified in a heavy set directive. "The right wing looks vulnerable; take them out the way you do best."

"...understood, amigo," the slinger spat almost half mockingly.

The Count was six, and Lady Luck sat by the sidelines with detachment. The dame had the pair of dice in hand, taunting him with double-pipped snake eyes in her drunken stupor.

He wouldn't take. The Western Wind, passive throughout the proceedings, grew to proportions reminiscent of hell's finest, with motes of dust amidst the gale. It lingered amongst his poncho before throwing the garment behind the slinger in windy fanfare.

Triggerman didn't give a damn if junior's giant pitched in or not; he wouldn't need to reload to drop this group.

In an instant, his right hand had dispatched the .45 in front of him in an almost unseen display of speed. Head rested upon his arm as the Western Wind flirted with the security of his hat's brim.

With a hawkeye, he commanded the six-shooter's sight across to the trio of boomers, smashing the gun's hammer as he did so. The trigger pull came like an exclamation point after a dead man's last scream, giving birth to its own noise.

The Western Wind nudged his aim towards the next target in applause. Lady Luck's disfavor hadn't been aroused yet; maybe the whore found the fight too frivolous to give a damn. Triggerman span the revolver around his index finger like a broken promise before pivoting on his right foot.

A champu came into view at the end of his sight, and the slinger thought he heard the Dame's mocking approval eminate from the end of his roaring barrel as he pulled the trigger.



1) Accuracy Charge + Extra Effect: Trick Shot
2) Shotgun Boomer A, B, C with double splash (60, superior accuracy)
3) Vulcan ChampuA (20x3=60, high accuracy)
4) Normal-style dodge (poor dodge nullified passively by The Good)
Gungir looked the small navi up and down, he knew what was inside, he could see the navi. It's battle parameters were nearly parallel to his. As he watched the navi go to the right, he let out a hmm nonchalantly, letting it fall to the floor like a pin, it could be taken sharp or dull, but was silent as rosepetals. Sieg on the other hand, was a torrent of activity, plunging his hand deep into his baglike pockets, pulling out some chips and shouting to him,

"Hah, he's going for the weaker ones?! We'll show him! Boomerang, Rageclaw, Icewave slot in, download! Set them up and knock em down!" as the chips clacked into the PET, each of their dead cases falling to the ground, which he noticed and broke his figure to pick up, standing back up and getting right back into anger.

Gungnir felt the data inside of him slowly float around as it amalgamated into his hands, his left glove slowly taking on an arctic azule as his right had data flutter around it, like insects, and concentrate in his hand, forming the large boomerang as he gripped it in his hand tightly. His swords gems shone red, washing the blade in a red tide tht covered the entire vulge. He lifted each weapon upwards, looking and almost testing them as he cast his empty gaze over them, nodding his approval. He could hear the other navi blasting with cannons, guns were befitting of him, he thought as he arced forwards on the balls of his feet, pushing off into a run like a jungle cat.

He tore at the viruses that the other navi had so humbly left for him, crossing his weapons a moment before throwing them behind him, as though to increase his velocity. He ran closer, seeing the two tanks sliding back and forth as he neared them. He knew what it was that he had to do as he prepped his blades, he would need to be quick so as to pull it off effectively. His red blade left an afterimage, melding with the chilling blue of his hand. His scarf danced like a yellow tassle on his body as he ran, his footfalls slowing and wrapping him around the kabutank as he pulled back the sword. He swung mightily, slamming the swrd into the tank and sending it sliding across the ground and careening into it's partner. As the pair slammed together, he pulled back his fist holding the boomerang and grunted again, his face not moving in more than a slight furrow as the spinning scythe left his hand, hurtling at the viruses.

As he heard the slashes, he watched his scarf slide around his front as he felt the cool breeze from his arm wash over the blade, replacing the red tide with arctic waters as he pushed forwards from his slide. He jumped clean over the two tanks, or whatever remained of them, and rushed the dblcube, seeing his new 'partner' relay blasts around the arena, sending them careening into one another as he neared his next target. His sword gently frosted over as he brought it back, slamming it forwards. As he drove the chilling blades through the ground, frost blossomed from it, shooting forwards in increasingly larger waves. within seconds, the cube had an enormous ice wall coming at it, walls of growing aspear spikes erupting forwards. He heard a slam, and watched the final icicles stop growing, the ones standing falling to the ground with a loud crash.

His blade still in the frozen sheath he had formed, he looked over at the other navi in the distance, and saw that his attacks had left a single virus standing alone there, the rest blockd by smoke. He figured, it would be best to cover all sides of the battle, and gripped his vulge again. As he forceably removed it from the ground, takign a couple tries, he peeled the ice from his former attack up with the sword, forming an enormous spike on one blade. He lifted it above his head, spinning it, and gripped it above his head. As he brought it down, he slammed it into the ground at an angle, nonchalantly, and watched as a pair of enormous icicles stabbed forth from the ground, piercing the sky as they rose.

'The bite of the wolfson is fierce indeed...' he said, pulling his vulge free from it's ice throne and readying himself for the rest of his attacks.


Rageclaw, KabutankA->B 20dmg, lineup

Boomerang, KabutankA/B/DblCube (2x)60dmg <weakness>

Icewave1, DblCube 80dmg

Fenrir, ChampuA/B 70dmg
Everything died as the two released their attacks, each handling their own side and finishing off the viruses like the most badass buddy cop team imaginable. One Champu that had escaped TriggerMan's madness socked Gungnir before he could turn around, but was quickly dealt with.



Gungnir: 140
Triggerman: 140

Both: 500, Firehit1
Gungnir absorbed the data as he walked back to the middle, nearing Triggerman once more and nodding curtly.

'I was right,' he said as Sieg flipped out and shouted and screamed in the lobby, 'You are a powerful navi, appearance matters not' His yellow scarf blew to the side in a mild dance as he spoke, the only motion on his body as he held his sword in a ready position, he legs slightly spread as though he were ready to move at any moment. He had no idea what might come next, but he wasready for it,

'I could not see all your performance, but you have a high battle capacity, a meritable partner in fighting,' he said, not smiling nor frowning, but stating matter-of-factly.
A crimson bolt of energy struck the Netfloor, a thunder crack resounding throughout the SciLabs netspace. From the blood stained bolt emerged an orb of pure darkness. The orb grew, absorbing the area around it as it expanded in size and charged shape. The darkness took on the form of a Navi and that Navi was Chaos. The dark Navi stood in SciLabs Net, his bone armor stained crimson with the fading blast of energy that signaled his entrance in the Net.

Chaos threw back his tattered cloak, revealing the entirety of his ghastly figure, and scanned the horizon. A cocky smile played across his thin lips as he imagined the sheer pleasure that would be derived from the days to come. He remembered the powerful female Navi, the way she dismissed that HeelNavi's Life Aura with a single attack, and he remembered the young Navi that could have been her twin. The powerful Navi was gone now, the small remnants of her data fading away shortly after deleting the HeelNavi, but the twin remained. And it was because of the twin that he was here in SciLabs Net, here to test out the disguise that would allow him to get close to her and her foolish suitor.

Chaos closed his eyes, the sinister orbs of darkness seeming to struggle to be freed from his eyelid, and raised his right arm. He pointed out with one clawed finger, using his senses to guide his quest. He turned slightly to the left, his finger acting like a divining rod, seeking out someone for him to test out his newest disguise.

"What are you doing?" Rayth inquired.

"Hush, fool. I am searching for some witless Navi to trick and deceive." Chaos snapped.

"Well, you could just travel about ten degrees to your left. There seems to be a battle going a couple of hundred yards away."

"Bah," was all Chaos said as he took Rayth's advice and jogged toward the supposed battle.

As he neared the spot, the dark Navi could hear the sounds of battle. He activated his new disguise, his bone armor melting away to form a red shirt and black slacks. Gloves wrapped around his hands and feet while an ascot tie grew around his neck. A long cloak sprouted from his back, the slight wind causing it to billow majestically. Chaos lowered one hand to rest on the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. The hilt was formed on bone with an onyx pommel. He new that his face would be altered as well, a more normal appearance, though with a hint of royalty and charm.

No matter Rayth's failures in other type of programing, he was quite skilled at designing graphic overrides. He even provided a few key phrases and a personality make up to fit within the generic scheme of the disguise. It was great work, though Chaos would be damned if he praised his NetOp. He gave a snide laugh and scoffed at the disguise just to make a point.

"I suppose you believe this to be the epitome of Regal?" Chaos asked.

"Well, you certainly look like a dandy to me." Rayth jibed.

"Hmmm, I shall let that one slide for at the very least you incorporated new speech patterns and an accent. It is passable, but barely. I expect more out of you for the next design."

"Whatever...Just hurry up."

"I don't take orders from you, fool. You listen to me."

Despite his words, Chaos continued forward. He crested a small hill and watched the battle play out below him. Two Navi, one he recognized as the gunslinger from his jaunt to Sharo, were surrounded by a mass of viruses. To their credit, the two Navi took it in stride, deleting the viruses with little fuss. It seemed to Chaos that the gunslinger had gained a bit of power, and the other Navi looked to be an equal match. The game was going to be quite fun.

"What, ho!" Chaos shouted down to the two Navi after the last virus was defeated. "You have done quite well, sirrah, though I dare say that you need a lesson of two if you let those cowards surround you." Chaos sauntered up to the two Navi and gave a slight bow of respect. "I am known as RegalMan. Allow me to journey with you and show you the true way to dispatch such rogues as these viruses."
The Western Wind stilled itself as the tide of battle dimmed into the passing tale of a dead recollection.

Throwing his tattered sarape in front of him, Triggerman had turned almost a deaf ear to Gungnir's monologue; the Count demanded his respect, a priority which he held above all else like a religious discipline.

The .45 was cocked open; it's jaw demanded lead replacements like a bar-clinging fellow who needed another hell brewed round to bring him an edge closer to the bottom. His fingers worked quickly to sate the gun's thirst for bullets.

...five... six.

With the last round replaced into the chamber, The Count was satisfied. Spinning the revolver around his finger, Triggerman reholstered it beneath the folds of his ashen garment. With apathy and pause, he glanced up at the towering navi from beneath his shadowed visage.

"Not bad...'partner'," he offered. In spite of the comment, the tone hardly sounded like one of a compliment, with the kind of flavor that a diluted spirit had after being in the company of ice at room temperature.

He hadn't invested his trust in the giant yet, but the navi hadn't presented reason to distrust him yet.
"...Looks like junior here is alright. In thirty years, I've found it's not too often that the mob employs gun toting teenaged characters to handle their grunt work," Marlowe informed over private link, his voice thick. "...just don't drop your guard yet."

Triggerman gave a single nod of affirmation, but as he did, he felt the Western Wind brush against his cheek as if in pale warning. The breeze carried with it a bad tiding, a stench that could only be attributed to a blood thickened presence.

From behind him, the slinger heard the kind of voice that could mince words and grate skin at the same time. Turning his head over his shoulder to survey the newcomer, his gun hand immediately strayed to the Single-Action beneath the cover of his poncho.

His gut had a message to deliver, like a headline broadcast into his conscience as forcefully as the business end of a mallet. Old man intuition was writing a sour note about this one, and the slinger decided he'd sooner trust this son-of-a-bitch then he'd wander with an unloaded gun.

There was something too familiar about him, his mouth painted with the kind of half-assed smile that televangelists wore on Sundays. He was a hasty portrait, and Triggerman could see through the canvas's forgery.

"...ponce your ass out of here 'sirrah'," Triggerman growled through gritted teeth, his patience for bullshitted niceties thinner then a cheap layer of whitewash. "I happen to know six friends with killer personalities... and they wouldn't mind making your acquaintance at 1500 metres a second."

His gun hand tensed like the waiting vulture over a fresh carcass.
"Now now." RegalMan held his hands up to ward off the aggressive Navi. "I am but a wandering knight, skilled with the blade, and lusting for battle. However, I mean you gentle folk no harm. 'Twould be unbecoming of me to set about attacking men such as yourselves. Like using a cannon swat a fly, what ho."

Chaos laughed at his own joke, a garish laughter that he could barely recognize. This GMO had a strange accent, but it was effective enough. Still, he could tell that Triggerman was suspicious. Was the gunslinger always such, or could he see through the layers of Chaos' disguise and guess at the evils that lay underneath. He would have to wary if he wanted to continue on with the duo.

"But, I mean no offense. None at all, my good man. In fact, your skill with a gun is quite impressive and that large fellow...I have never seen a blade of such make or magnitude. I shall like to accompany you on your little jaunt through this Net. Shall we rough up some viruses? Perhaps 'score some zenny' as you Yanks are like to say? If anything, this is a grand opportunity to gain some extensive knowledge on some "slang". What say you? Shall we form a powerful trio and make right what these viruses have made so wrong?"
Gungnir looked over the pair, almost watching from a distance at point blank range. Both seemed tense and untrusting, something unbecoming of warriors. He had looked over and scanned the new navi, it's battle capacity was near to their own, and he deigned it would make a meritable partner should they choose to join. He was not worried, should the navi prove dangerous, it would be only another to dispatch. He spoke in his almost monotonic voice,

'I have no qualms about another member, nor do I care to be shown off for. Logic supports that more navis attract more virii, and that means more diversity. You are a capable being, and would not hinder us. You're reasons are your own, but I will leave this up to him,' he said, lilting his sword in Triggermans direction, 'Since I have no preference either way'
Following the sounds of the ownage, a horde descends on the stone-cold trio!


Gungnir: 140
Triggerman: 140
Chaos: 140

Battle 2, Start!
Triggerman's distrust of the newcomer was set aside as he noticed the next wave of hostiles. Nothing escaped his hawkeye; 'Regalman's' lies fell under his scope, but these virii were more pressing targets, like fools pasted with dart targets on their heads.
The next armada had already closed the distance, and their numbers rang a fact into Triggerman's thought as he began to calculate the mechanics of the skirmish; six bullets wouldn't be enough to drop them on his own. Even if the giant pitched in, the pair of them wouldn't be able to make a clean a effort as their last encounter.
The slinger glanced at the newcomer's response, and it had become clear that he had intended to engage. With some contempt, he allowed the stranger to continue, a decision which left a taste in his mouth as bitter as the remnants of a cigarette's taste.

And so the tide of battle dawned anew with the Wester Wind's fresh announcement.

"...Set them free," Marlowe came quietly over the private link. The storm worn commandment didn't need to carry on longer to convey the meaning. Triggerman nodded in assent, his hat brim casting a wider shadow on his rough visage.

Triggerman could sense them; the septet dared him with every bloodied intention they had conceived in dormancy. They taunted him with every semblance of rage they had brewed, and they yearned to be released from their unseen prison.

Lady Luck feared what would happen next; the Dame and her damned dice had retreated with foresight. They had seen into the future, and they weren't fools enough to linger frivolously.

The septet yearned, and Triggerman wouldn't refuse their request.

Forty-Five fully gripped, Triggerman removed the weapon in a flourish of the sarape, spinning the instrument as he withdrew it as if in sacred rite. Hammer came down with forboding. He acted as the conductor raising the baton in preparation for the symphony's commence; but this was a symphony that would bring no sweet melody. Without deterrence, he aimed skyward and let loose a shot that bore a crying echo.


The bullet's command arced its search amidst the sensitivities of the planar realm, calling for the hidden martyrs. Seconds within the effect, the sound had faded unto the air, almost as if having passed onto a different fabric of space.

The call demanded them, and it was an offer that was never refused.

For moments, a pause invited the presence of a fickle silence, one that would soon be dispatched without remorse. Silence could never last; it was the absence of violence to highlight the death. And soon, the quiet fizzled flat as the woodwinds of Triggerman's symphony played first.

His poncho flew astray behind him as the Western Wind grew, almost in warning of the approaching titans. The scene of false solace dared to never end, elongating the seconds into small eternities.

And without further anouncement, the clamour of hell's parade overcame the ground in a quake that dared to invade upon Heaven's heavy handed patience. Their approach unsteadied the earth beneath the combatants, with tremor adding itself to the gale's harsh rhythm.

It had been far too long since their last performance, and The Seven intended to make a showing debut.

In an abrupt instant, each rider was born from flame into thin air, appearing astride their steeds in a sprint that rivaled the Western Wind's onset. They were seven, each with a flame cast fast, all skull and malevolence burning their inferno sentenced frames. Each master rode after the other in single file, bearing cruel tidings that seared the air that touched them.

Their presence was a hellish one as ever; The Western Wind's graceful presence was surrendered to the onset of the Seven's signature sand tempest. No longer did Triggerman's poncho waft gently; it flapped violently in the gale's barbaric effect. And as the Seven ran, the chaotic tornado that bore nothing but the West's unbridled aggression chased them without abandon. Their perpetual competition ensued, and with it brought a desert shadow to cloak the slinger.

Within the splices of a moment, their hell-borne symphony of forces had consumed every soul, like an early introduction to purgatory. The defices of sound were a triviality in their wrath; the only audible noise was an amalgamation of the Seven's stampede and the tempest's anger. Sand swirled harsh, concealing hell's portrait from those the Seven deemed unfit to see.

The stage had been set, and Triggerman needed no guidance to bring judgement swift. He slammed the hammer down again, as the targets of his assault lay hindered in the tempest ahead.

The Windboxes were a triviality replaced by the Seven's storm, and Triggerman resolved to relieve them of their obsolete attempts at duty. Squinting, he relinquished his aim to intuition's dictate as the sight wavered in the wind's effect. With an eye closed, he established faith in the angle; with one bullet, he sought the downfall of both. Trigger finger embraced its partner, and a burst of shotshell erupted from the barrel, flying towards their damned targets at unseen velocity.


The slinger wasted no time lingering in the rememberance of the last shot, quickly attaining his next targets. Within the sensitivities of another moment, Triggerman became but poncho and hat, a Western ghost that fed from the atmosphere with its silent presence. He was a spectre among sands and wind, and one with relentless intent.

In syncopation, the Magnificent Seven made a pass by the stationary wraith, brewing new wind in their wake again.
The wraith caught the tide of hell's cocytus, casting him upwards like a preacher reaching for the pearly gates. With bloodied sophistication he reached the climax of his flight, and emerged inverted, in full body. His gun hand appeared, with its harbinger of death in tow again, hammer pre-cocked. From above, he cast his sights upon the trio of Starfish, a group which he intended to make a trio of casulaties.

His descent from flight, head first, had begun; with quick judgement, he made aim for the lead Starfish, marking him in his mind's eye like an unfortunate bullseye. Time's procession thickened, until the moment presented itself loudly. His finger committed itself to its friend again, producing death's staccato.

With the last bullet dispatched, Triggerman's form became wraith again; wind cast itself upon the poncho, gently wafting to the ground. As he descended, the lead rider of the Seven passed him in furious approval. Flames lingered in the shattered air through which he had passed.

In their wake, there was just sand and violent intentions. There were bodies to be made yet.


1) The Magnificent Seven
-10 damage to massive group, massive IC blind, deafen, disorient, immobilize
-The Good becomes active, induces Wind-type grace
2) Accuracy Charge + Extra Effect: Ricochet
3) Vulcan2 Windbox A, splash to Windbox B (20x5 to both, superior accuracy)
4) Shotgun Starfish A, splash to Starfish B, attempt to splash Starfish C with superior RP (60, high accuracy)
As Gungnir talks, he senses the new team of viruses quickly approaching from the groups flank. He would have laughed, the wary partner was now cast in with their lot regardless. He pulled his Vulge forwards as Triggerman lept to action. He watched the arena fly apart, dust and wind becoming prominent as the entire arena was washed in it, the dirty cloud apparently the doing of Triggerman, as he could not sense any damage coming to him or his self. He liked this navis battle capacity, it had not made this weapon apparent in the last fight of theirs.

'We are once again soul twined, Sieg' he called up to his op calmly, catching his attention and making him smile broadly as he watched the navi partner of his tear into the group with powerful attacks, cannons and shells ricocheting around the arena's enemies. Sieg looked through his stuff, and turned to Gungnir with a set of weapons in his hands, saying to him,

"Hah, lets not let him show us up! he;s set up a few for us, lets thank him properly and capitalize on it!" flexing his vocabulary some, "Use these! Boomerang, Shotgun, Heatshot! Take them all and pair them with your own battle capacity!" as he slotted in the three chips, sending them to Sieg as he stood in the middle of the powerful blasts of wind and sand.

'Sieg and I have not the battle capacity to kill everything in one swoop. Regalman, if you would allow us the first action, try and follow up what we have not done,' Gungnir said montonicly and coldly, not even turning to face his new partner as he spoke. He recieved the chipdata from Sieg and closed his eyes for a moment, sorting and distributing it as the tactician he was programmed to be.

He felt the datas inside of him, swirling as the winds did across his face. The specks of sand and dirt danced a mad tango with his mustard yellow scarf and matted brown hair, the wind pushing all the players in their steps as he stood in the middle of it all. His left arm began glowing a bright yellow, shining brilliantly through the duststorm. His right fizzled and popped, embers snapping and forming on it as he stood stoic. He lifted his flaming hand, pointing it at the champus, palm open as he stared them down. His view was not obscured by the storm as he looked at them, however, he could tell they were confused and largely unawares of him. The fires were pushed by the winds no more than a candle in a dark room, lilting lightly as he stood there. He Gripped the fireball tht had formed, the flames oozing from his fist in an aquatic fashion. Ie felt the data form in his hand from the sand, solidifying and forming into his bladed boomerang as he gripped it, turning to find the two cubes in his sights. He hoped that his own shots would not be inhibited by the winds.

He pushed off strongly, facing the cubes as his glowing arms left trails in the wind. The sand and gales bowing madly sent his hair and scarf in whirls around him as he moved, the view from the viruses less that of a man, but more of a demon tearing through the clouds. He swerved left and right erratically, trying to shake the pair from ID'ing him as he rushed them. The boomerang in his hand slowly began glowing red, the flames dancing up and down it as he nears the viruses. He willingly finds the programs locking together, imbuing the boomerang with the powers of fire as he pulled up near enough to the viruses. He pulled the weapon behind him, swinging his arm across his torso as he grunted lightly, sending the flaming scythe flying from his hand in a wide arc, swinging around and out of his view. He watched the two cubes, hearing a loud noise and watching the flames burst around them, covering them from his view. The flames from his attack danced in the wind and sand as he quickly turned his views to the Champu. He momentarily saw the boomerang returning to him, catching it from the wind and sending it back to the sand and dust from whence it had come.

He turned on his heels, heading towards the Champu as he felt the wind and sand rush past his face. This would be a bad attack to be caught in, he mused. His energetic left hand glowed brightly as he moved, leaving a visable afterimage, even to the viruses. The rapidly fading yellow line pointed his position out to the other navis and virii as he moved. He could hear Triggerman letting rip other shots as he drew up on the targets, the mediocre champu probably suffering the worst from the viruses as he moved up. He pulled back his hand and slid forwards, his scarf and hair whipping forwards, momentarily blocking his face as he skidded to a halt. Still clutching his Vulge, he thrust his hand forwards, all the energy delaying and amalgamating at the base of his forearm. The charge exploded and shot forth, blasting again at his wrist and then exploding from his closed fist and streaking through the sand and wind at the viruses.

He heard the rauckous explosions and ran past them, smoke now getting blown around the arena with sand as he moved on to the next two viruses. His swords were the only thing he had left as he moved up to the remaining shaken champu. HIs vulges jewels began glowing an arctic blue as Ice began forming on the lower blade. Slowly, the entire half of the vulge became encased in Ice, allowing Gungnir time to position himself between the pair. He stopped moving from in between them, raising his Vulge high in the air as his Scarf and hair flew madly before him. It botherd him little, he had no use for his eyes in this attack. He spun the vulge once in his hand, bringing it down hard and piercing the very wind as he slammed the icicle into the ground. The earth immediately frosted as it connected, sending unseen waves to the two virii. The earth shook slightly, and a pair of monolithic spear of Ice exploded from the ground beneath the two viruses in a glassy slice. He looked to the side, the winds shifting almost to his will, blowing his scarf from his view, and revealing the twin frozen fangs of the Wolfson on either side of him, almost tributes to his fight as the winds and sands flecked peices of glittering ice from them, wearing them down, but making a diamond dust flow through the arena. Gungnir Forcably pulled his sword from the frozen sheath he had made from it, hoping that he had set up the viruses for their fall from Regalman.


Boomerang, DblcubeA/B/ChampuE (2x)60dmg <Weakness>

Heatshot, DblCubeA/B 40dmg

Shotgun, ChampuC/D 50dmg

Fenrir, ChampuA/B 70dmg
Chaos felt the winds kick up around him as Triggerman began his assault. The gunslinger fired off a single round of his .45, the resounding crack of the gunshot echoing like the footfalls of a horse stampede. Dust rose around the dark Navi, though strangely it did not obscure his vision nor did the strong gusts of wind affect his movements. His black and crimson cloak billowed in the winds, wrapping around him like a bat's wings. The handsome Navi let a soft smile crease his lips as he witnessed the power of his "comrades".

"Sieg and I have not the battle capacity to kill everything in one swoop. Regalman, if you would allow us the first action, try and follow up what we have not done," the giant's voice was cold and monosyllabic, like that of a true robot.

"As you wish," RegalMan's smile widened as he gestured toward the viruses aligned against them. "Please, allow me to witness the extent of your abilities."

The giant of a Navi strode forward, ready to attack, and Chaos peered closely, gaging the use of his newest toy. The duo's plan seemed sound, many of the viruses would fall in this first onslaught, but they left themselves open to attack. That was a fatal flaw against more intelligent opponents. Chaos mentally noted their penchant for offense as he prepared his own strategy to end this battle.

"Those cubes seem powerful," Rayth commented over the private line. "I doubt that the giant's skill will be enough to finish them off."

"There can be no doubt." Chaos whispered, though Rayth could not be sure if this was a response to his comment. "Send me a few choice BattleChips. A Shotgun surely and perhaps that hammer that you traded our Boomerang for."

"Sure, just don't miss. Those guys are suspicious enough without you committing any acts that could be deemed treasonous."

"Bah," was Chaos' only response before the Regal.GMO kicked in again to alter his voice. "What skill! To think that such Navi exist outside of the Queen's army. Though allow me to show you what a true gentleman is capable of!"

RegalMan's cloak exploded open as if he was about to use the fine cloth to take flight upon TriggerMan's gritty wind. A musket had formed in the Navi's right hand and the Navi raised it to his shoulder. He took careful aim at the two DBLCubes, their hues flashing rapidly in response to his allies' attacks. RegalMan pulled the trigger, a deafening explosion riding on the coattails of a spray of iron buckshot. The Navi didn't wait to examine his effectiveness, tossing aside the musket as the weapon faded into a fine mist of spent data.

RegalMan dashed forward, right arm trailing behind him as a golden rod formed. He ran down the group of Starfish worrying that one may elude Triggerman's violent onslaught. He raised the rod above his head, a slab of ornate silver expanding to form a massive hammer. With both hands grasped tightly, RegalMan slammed the hammer down, hoping to smash one of the Starfish under the elegant weapon.

The hammer shattered into a data mist as it struck the ground, but the dark Navi was already moving. He was playing clean up in this battle and his crimson eyes were quickly picking out possible holes in the duo's strategy. A Champu loomed in front of him, but Chaos was ready as Rayth slotted in another BattleChip. A sapphire orb materialized in his hand and Chaos lobbed the sphere toward the virus. The ball of ice expanded, forming a wave that obscured the Champu from Chaos' view.

Chaos pivoted to the left, one final BattleChip being slotted in. He felt the data surge through his systems, begging to be released. He raised his hand, five orbs of crimson energy forming in the air in front of him. He slashed his gloved hand horizontally, the orbs responding by streaking toward one of the windboxes just in case Triggerman was unable to follow through.

1. Shotgun(50) to DBLCubeA with Spread(50) directed to DBLCubeB
2. BigHammer1(160) to StarfishC
3. IceWave1(80x2) to ChampuE
4. Vulcan2(10x5) to WindboxB
Through the taxing gales, the virii find themselves unable to take the offensive, and are soon stricken by the oncoming assault. Trigger's Precision, Gungnir's wide area of attack, and Regal's finishing force put a swift and solid end to the enemy's brigade...


GET(each): 400z, DblBeamx1
"Haha!" RegalMan laughed as he brushed some dirt from his shoulder. "We gave those rascals what for, that we did. I say, you lads are a mite bit more skilled than I gave you credit for."

Chaos swooped up his share of the rewards with a magnificent flourish. He examined the zenny amount before transferring it to Rayth's bank account. He took his time with the BattleChip data. He wasn't sure what it was capable of, though he did know that it was comprised of core data from the large flashing cubes that he had deleted. The virus had not had the opportunity to attack them, so he could not gage the chip's possible effectiveness. He transfered it to Rayth so that the NetOp could download the data onto a blank chip disk and run a more extensive search on its capabilities.

"Though I dare say that the rewards are rather less than expected for such a commanding victory. I would have thought that we had slain the viruses fast enough to gain more of their core data before it corroded. No need to dwell on the past though, eh?" RegalMan gave another cheerful laugh. "You lads have seen my skill first hand. What say we continue this little jaunt further into Net and raise some hell? I bet we find a few more bloody fools who need a taste of our power. What say you?"
Gungnir took in the data, fusing with it and sending it up to Sieg, who flipped out and took the new chipdata, insanely happy at getting another, but upon reading it up, was confused.

"Wha? This thing is totally random!" he shouted, angry at the foolish chip, "But I guess that it does have a wide range" Gungir on the other hand was distracted more by the enemies around him, now dead, and his partners.

'That was effective, you covered our attacks exceptionally well. I think we should continue, I am in more than good shape for it as well as you two,' he said montonusly, barely varying his voice as he spoke to them, and gripping his Vulge, ready for more.
Hell's portrait faded from its stage as the scytheman left with his chariot, half tattered souls in tow like a loaded farmhand.

The Seven's chase subsided; their stampede drew to a finale in the volition of another gale's practice. Sand dispersed and their air cracking presence's heat fell still. The Western Wind's sigh grew wearied, priming its softer melody upon Triggerman's poncho again.

Triggerman stayed mute as he performed his ritual of reloading, his attention keen on the chambers as they received new brothers.

As the deed was finished, Triggerman's eyes darted to Regalman beneath the shade of his brim. The fellow could fight half a damn, but that fact did nothing to redeem his suspicions.

He smelled of lies harder then a broke lawyer. It was a stench that the Western Wind conducted to the slinger well enough.

Triggerman gave no response to 'Regalman's' inquiry, nor did he comment to his still unnamed goliath companion. He resolved to permit the navi's participation, casting him under heavier observation then a kid who had broken curfew.

There was lead to fly and bodies to drop, and no words would ignite the powder.

(Battle 3, cap'n.)