Oh wow, that one slipped me by, where abouts did it happen?

The plot thickens and with every new piece of information, a myriad of paths present themselves, yet one wrong move could prove deadly. Soul had faced arduous circumstance in the past, after all he was created to thrive in all forms of combat, subversive situations such as this were his bread and butter, though this was different. Sure of his own prowess in evasion, he couldn't help but worry for the safety of Garde were things to go wrong, She'd never forgive me..., he mused as images of the silent, cold Willow flashed before him. All the while, the stylish navi kept up his perfect facade, noises of disbelief and agreement made precisely when needed, encouraging the burgeoning advances of Strict whilst fanning the flames of the other two.

As the fruits of his questions began to bloom each of the girls revealed their flaw; Strict accused of man-hatred, Wild accused of peculiar appetites and Jumper linked with some sort of sexual deviancy, whether any such accusations could be believed, especially from Garde with her track record, was another question in itself. However, Soul knew, the squabbles sprouting from his comments on Strict's shoes a particular indicator, that this trio would soon disperse and he would be forced to pursue one or the other.

"Ladies, ladies...", Soul voiced as he positioned himself between the Wild and Strict, highly conscious of the weapon at his waist and the lust in Wild's eyes, he knew he only had one trick left up his sleeve. Shifting his gaze from Wild to Strict, he announced, "I wouldn't want you to rush things", the navi then deftly slipped out of their midst to stand abreast with Garde and Jumper, "You have from now till when we've dealt with squaresville over here to show me just how far out you can be", he then linked arms with Jumper and walked her, with Garde held tightly in toe in the direction she had been heading previously, "Use the time wisely baby, I'm looking forward to a swingin' tour", Soul followed up with a winning smile shot over one shoulder, his words and actions specifically directed enough, yet still generic enough to be taken by either navi.

I've been listlessly wondering for a long time now; what happened to the NetBattling? I know the forum isn't receiving the traffic of its hay day but I'd wager that there must be a few of you who have been following other's battle threads and thinking, "Hey, I can take that guy/girl/amorphous entity in a fight". Well, what better way would there be than to duke it out 2009 style? It'd be the perfect way to bring back some of that nostalgic glory.

So I'm asking, who wants a fight? Or are ya chicken?

"That was amazing!", Hal cried into the PeT as he watched the carefully orchestrated bust unfold, the blur of energy that was his charge almost filling him with something akin to pride.

Far below, in his own little world, Professor.exe was happily scooting around and collecting the left over reward data, the frost covered Zenny seemingly disappearing on touch, presumably into Hal's account. Yet when he heard his operator's praise, his perceptive gaze evaporated, his face glazing over into a warm stupor, coated arms falling limply too his sides with a light scattering of disintegrating coinage. "Amazing?", the navi replied with a warm smile, "It's only a few zenny, I wonder who left it here...". With that, the navi continued his tireless journey onwards into the tundra, the harsh winds howling in his wake.

[Battle 2 please]

"Simply fascinating!", Professor announced eagerly, his arms thrown aloft in a fit of spritely vigour; something as simple as subzero temperatures would not faze his old bones. Yet, the signs of the simulated weather's effect were becoming more apparent with each passing minute. The bushy, wild tufts of eyebrow that masked the professor's eyes to the world were slowly encrusting with ever expanding crystals of ice, weighing them down with a wet, white mass that caused them to sag listlessly. Inhospitable, barren and devoid of life, the old navi had entered a world in which only he and the viruses ahead existed.

"Be careful professor...", Hal warned as he straightened his suit, the most recent failure at joint busting had left him with a fiery spite for the navi but as much as he might hate the professor, he could not help but feel sorry for the old codger in the face of such a fight.

"Don't worry m'lad!", the professor replied, his hand waving the very elements from his personal space as he erected his signature barrier, the harsh elements no longer reaching him, simply cascading downwind across an invisible sphere about the navi's person. Dropping to a slightly lower position, the old navi adopted a rare edge of professionalism, "Send me the new chip, the big cannon and the sparkly one", yet the words showed no sign of improvement,

"Yes Professor...", the executive replied dejectedly as he inserted the battle chips, "Focus on that Shrimp, it appears to be the strongest of the 3", he concluded.

Hefting his arms to his right shoulder, the Magnum cannon quickly manifested, reaching full definition as his arms finally locked into place. The heat from the weapon caused the snow to melt in the professor's eyebrows, a steady stream of melt water dripping down his face in its wake. Without anything to hinder it, the weapon fired a ferocious opening salvo at the enemy Hal had pointed out, the shear heat of the attack causing the falling snow to fizzle and crack in its wake. Yet the attack was not complete, because no sooner had the first shot been loosed, the second and third were hot on its heels, soaring with a deadly warmth that juxtaposed with the immense cold of the surrounding land.

With a swiftness that would appear unusual for a navi his age, the scientist dashed with a dogged determination through the treacherous terrain that nonsensically provided the greatest obstacle, yet the least cover. Hard fought the manoeuvre might have been, the navi did not prevent it from stopping his follow up attack, which came in the form of an eager electrical wasp that, after a brief pause to gain its icy bearings, zoomed directly for the Shrimpy foe ahead of him. Although the first two attacks might have arrived before he did, the professor did not allow the fireworks to distract him from his final task. With a wild flourish of circular steel, a blinding slash of blue-white death extended in all directions around the old navi, his position deliberately trying to separate the other two viruses from one another. The snow might have been fierce but nothing bites quite as hard as cold steel on a winter's day. Especially when wielded by a madman.

Actions

1) Neutron flux (80 hp barrier, 2 TCD) @Self
2) Magnum1 (120 Fire + Break + Panel Break x 3 Targets, A acc) @Shrimpy, @Raingear, @Dharma
*Quantum leap (Passive Movement) Run towards a position between Raingear and Dharma
3) Arrow1 (100 Elec DMG + homing, B acc) @Shrimpy
4) Moonblade1 (90 Null DMG, Slashing + Spin Attack (Targets: 1-3 B acc, 4-6 C acc, 7-8 D acc)) @Raingear and @Dharma

Hook, line and sinker, Soul mused to himself as he strolled alongside the unlikely trio. The quaint net square they had met in slowly gave way to rundown areas of code, the architecture itself seemed to be unsound by comparison, yet the captors-come-companions paid little to no mind. Garde seemed to be flustered yet the distraction she provided allowed Soul to note down a mental map through the streets as they went.

Looming overhead like some immense monolith, the imposing figure of the headquarters emerged from the surrounding land in a seamless mixture of code. Unnerved by the surroundings somewhat, the whole mission took on a much more sinister feel. The suave navi would be stepping into the lion's den surrounded by a triplet of lionesses; only time would tell whether he was going to join the pride or become their next meal. Playfully rebuffing Wild, Soul knew his real challenge would be Strict; her cold persona was all that stood between him and full access to any information he might want. Get to her and Jumper will fall in line..., Soul thought as he rubbed his manly chin, a faint flicker of a smile illuminating his broad face. "Gnarly crib you got here girls", Soul commented in a questioning manner to the enamoured Wild, yet before she could reply, the white clad navi spun about to face Strict directly, raising his hands to the back of his head, an air of nonchalance filled his voice, "... and these posters, "DO NOT DISAPPOINT", sounds like such a buzz kill, who is that square anyway?", he then shot a particularly dashing smile at the graduate navi and finished, in a far sweeter tone, "I couldn't imagine I'd find a groovy babe, with shoes like that hidden away in some heavy place like this".

Unable to prevent the split up of himself and Garde, he made a grab for Jumper as her eager compatriot pushed them towards the cells, pulling her close for a brief moment, he whispered, "And I can't wait for my personal tour after you're done with the fuzz over there", letting her go as quickly as he had grabbed her, Soul turned back towards Strict and Wild, throwing a sly wave of the hand as he went.

A harsh wind blew slurries of snow and ice whirling in every direction. The tundra was barren and for the most part, snowbound, yet the odd patch of frozen ground or wizened tree broke up the bleak ice field to provide a sultry canvas of greys and browns. Mountains towered incalculably high into the clouds in the distance of either side of the professor and it was not for a good few minutes that the navi realised that fact. Nattering on about the relative merits of Yumlandian ants vs their Netfrican cousins, the old man was shocked to find the warm plains of his former surrounding transformed into chaotic scenes of hardship mixed with eerily still white canvas.

"Ooooooooo, Sharo, eh? Good choice m'lad! I was just talking of the ant species of the Net and had been confounded by my own ignorance to the Sharoan Tundra Ant!", Professor.exe announced with his usual vigour, "Shame about that Neddy fellow, he was most helpful",

"Nitro, Professor", Hal corrected,

"Nitro Professor? That another professor you know m'lad?",

"Never mind...", the man sighed as he reclined into the comfortable leather of the sofa, it wasn't even noon yet, this was going to be a long day.

In silence, the professor ploughed onwards, seemingly able to glide through the harsh snows unhindered, unflinching in the face of nature.

[Requesting Battle 1]

They... won?, Hal mused to himself as the final fragments of viral data congealed and coalesced into useful reward items, his Navi zooming about cheerfully as he scooped it all up. For the first time in a long while, Hal was almost pleased with the way things were going, the Professor wasn't making too much of a fool of himself and the lead had turned out to be legitimate, who knows? Maybe this could be the start of his glorious return to glory?

It wasn't meant to be.

As Hal turned to give his post battle announcement, hoping to turn the success into a streak, he was confronted by the inevitable; the fly in the ointment. With the professor completely oblivious, the frustrated executive was forced to watch the painful salvage attempt on the remains of the camera program, it is a gruelling thing having to watch your hopes dashed by an errant kunai.

The others made their parting apologies, leaving time for Hal to murmur a false acceptance, "That's fine, we'll keep in contact...", before they disappeared, leaving him alone, once again with the professor, who at this moment was eyeing a trail of ants with particular interest.

With a sigh, the man thumbed through the PeT's default address codes and picked one out, Sharo Net, he thought to himself wickedly, This'll give the old codger a bite. With a sly chuckle to himself, Hal ported the oblivious navi to the fresh snows of the harsh Sharo Net tundra.

[Transfer to Sharo Net]

"Whoa, woah baby!", Soul announced playfully as he pushed the knife down with the point of his index finger. The situation had quickly escalated from crazy to dangerous and unless he done something fast, this mission would be blown wide out of the water. Turning slowly as he spoke in an attempt to address the three newcomers equally, Soul began his gambit, "You've got it all wrong, there's no way this cool cat would be caught dead with a short drink of milk like this chick", he then gestured backwards to the flustered Garde with a look of derision and cold chuckle, "I mean, who would pick the boring arm of the law over...", the suave navi then pulled Garde into a dazzling spin of incredible speeds, when they came to a stop, the officer was held tight to his muscular chest as he bent her backwards, dangerously close to the ground. In the embrace, he had enough space between them and the trio to whisper a quick word of assurance, "Leave this to me, I'll get the Man-Eater, just be ready to do the heavy work baby", and with that, he cruelly let her drop to the ground before getting up and approaching the trio once again.

With the fuzz out of the way, Soul could get down to what he does best, putting the charm on. "So, what brings three psychedelic babes like you to a squaresville like this?", the navi questioned playfully as he sauntered up to them, leaving his partner in the dust, yet before they could answer, he proceeded to explain his own situation, "Now me for example, I was passing through, minding my own business when the fuzz over there started asking all sorts of questions", he then shot a wink at Jumper before addressing the wildly dressed navi, "I just came to spend some zenny and have a good time, got any suggestions?".

"Man-eater, eh?...", Soul mumbled as he thumbed his chin thoughtfully, afro swaying gently with soft abandon, the contrast made all the greater by the harsh, crisp lines of his bleach-white outfit. The trio seemed genuine enough, the commanding officer seemed a little... unusual, though the wooden, cut-out Fuzz that flanked her more than balanced crazy levels. Soul was not afraid to do the job, far from it, the job seemed right up his alley but it just didn't feel right working for the Man, even if it was for all the right reasons.

Baby, an instant message flashed on the PeT screen,

Yes?, came the reply, private and to the point,

You've heard the details, are you down?, the navi questioned, conscious to be as swift as possible,

No violence,

Goes without saying, baby!, the navi concluded, his ruminating ruse flawless throughout.

Pausing for just a second longer than what might be socially acceptable, the navi sprung from his contemplative pose, "YEAH BABY!", with one arm aloft and the other diagonally pointed downwards, Soul suddenly spun about, his form becoming that of a crazed mass of clothes and hair, yet in all the chaos, he managed to pilfer hotdog from a passerby and an oddly convenient comb, placed on the counter of the food stall they happened to be standing next too. With a single fluid movement, the navi ceased spinning, wrung out the hotdog of all its greasy juices into one hand, ran it through his hair and pulled it tight with a single slice of the comb. Tossing the hotdog back to the befuddled tourist, the navi struck a new form, hand on one hip, leg apart with the other hand pointing towards the tamed mass of hair, that was now greased back so tight, only the wavy locks of a back-ally sleaze ball looking for a night on the town might hold a candle to it, "You need the bait? I'm the flashiest, grooviest cat around! I'm your navi, baby!".