Scene #6909: Prying at the Edges of the Mask

Owner	Pose
August Kohler	Tracking August Kohler isn't too difficult, at the moment. He's been spotted coming to and from the farm of one Sanary Rondel, where he's apparently been visiting frequently. But that isn't where he is currently. The redhead is walking the roads of her world, heading towards a nearby village. He has a grocery bag around his shoulder, some pig-related products there for barter. It's getting late, the sun is setting. The road is a cobblestone road, with a small forest around it for cover. Thick, green-leaved trees block the sun, gnarled roots make it difficult not to trip in the dark at one point, as August turns on his phone light and hooks it to his waist. As he's passing by, he stops, crouching low, frowning sharply (he has been the whole time, honestly). He pulls out a small guidebook, as he illuminates some mushrooms with the phone light. After flipping over it, he nods, and starts picking the mushrooms. As he does so, he grabs his Watch radio and makes a call. <"I'm getting food for dinner, can bring some leftovers over wherever. Anyone want anything rural? We've got bacon for days."> His tone is sullen, as he leans against a tree, waiting for a reply before he heads on forward.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons is the kind of man you get to track someone. He knows spycraft. He can sit outside the place someone works for hours, monitoring them with spy equipment, while also getting useful things done in his Mind Palace. It's what he does. It's the bread and butter of spywork. Or the meat and potatos. It's a full-course meal of spycraft. "Alright, First!" He pipes up. He's offered the various Concord members the chance to do this from inside what appears to be a cameoflaged spy jet, a fancy near-invisible VTOL number hovering silently above, only a short ways away. "How do you want this one done? I could try to sneak in astrally with you guys, or we can go more direct and you can work in realspace while I do my thing. Lot tougher to sneak the former, but I don't know how much you want to openly antagonize him! So, I'll follow your lead here."
Eggman	Eggman does not usually take rides from other people. Today, however, he is being a Team Player, rather than bringing the Egg Carrier or Egg Cannon Island or any number of devious devices along for the ride. It's about showing Team Spirit and supporting the Concord and its boss. It's metaphorically wearing the uniform and showing some level of submission to the greater whole. Not NORMALLY his thing, but he likes Staren. Staren's someone he can talk to. Like that insane biologist. There aren't a lot of people like them around, visionaries in science both mad and otherwise. It's nice to have peers. And if he can use that peerage to his own ends, and advance his standing in the Concord, then all the better. So the rotund Robotnik is sitting around in Flamel's spy jet. He is very definitely not alone. Sitting next to the Doctor of Disaster is a machine. It is a flawless machine. It is a work of art. Somehow both strangely blocky and strangely sleek, like a voxel model of a living creature, the silver thing sits with its square-ish arms in its lap, staring through strangely malevolent red eyes at the rest of the spy plane. Its head is a sweeping christmas tree of spines that run down its back. It has a nose for reasons known only to Eggman. This is Silver Sonic Mk-I, and it is going for a test drive. You always want to test these things before you start mass production. "I defer that decision to our draconic director," Eggman says graciously, "While I would enjoy seeing my Silver Sonic run amuck, it's hardly the time or the place for me to make such a decision." "That said," he continues, "If you want my counsel..." His moustache bristles as his eyebrows knot and his teeth spread into his trademark, malevolent, grin. "I would say that putting on a grand show sends a message much more effectively." Silver Sonic's red gaze makes that grin most unsettling. Especially the shadow it casts. How does his head cast a shadow like that, where his teeth are visible, and his eyes? It's best not to ask questions you don't want to know the answer to.
Priscilla	"The point is not antagonism, Sir Parsons. Such is the reason that thou art here with no written order --for which I am grateful." Priscilla informs Flamel, almost sounding regretful, up until the hasty addition at the end. "Mine hand is forced here by two things. That nameless gunman's lack of identity, seeming as a ghost whom none see and with whom none associate . . . and Sir Kohler's position as as Sector Zero's eminent icon of wild and lawless conduct, around whom all volatile and irrational idealists inevitably congregate." Watching a college boy wandering home on a forest path, carrying bags of groceries and stopping to pick mushrooms, from the comfort of an exorbitantly expensive invisible spyjet, surrounded by Elite specialists, feels less than dignified. Priscilla oozes that sort of special agitation from every angle of her posture. "He didst chooseth to be such of his own free will. To embody this, to be a lighthouse by which they are guided, and to hold open the lines of communication that connect them, however many steps apart. Because of this, there is the greatest of possibilities that he is, if nothing else, at least aware of the gunman's nature and whereabouts. Someone, somewhere within the Watch's tangled web of connections, must knoweth something of him." Despite her best efforts, Priscilla is unable to sit around any longer. Hands to her knees, she stands up all at once and disembarks as if leaving a room ahead of an argument. "We knoweth not for certain he hath anything to do with that ghost, nor how directly his hand if he dost. According to right, he shalt be offered opportunity to submit such knowledge in good faith, and he shalt leave unharmed, and giving up no other secrets. Though certainly he hath done much in past to warrant the Concord's ire collectively, that is that matter, and this is this matter." "I hope only that he sees reason in this. That he is able to acknowledge the line that hath been crossed. Otherwise . . ." Priscilla's voice finally turns frigid as she hops from the jet. "Do with him as thou shalt."
Flamel Parsons	"Believe me," Parsons says, "I know all about the kind of business that needs to stay disavowed. Necessity and all that! I've already got the false memories and everything ready to load so that I'll think I tried to do this on my own if it comes to it. So! In that case," He stands from the weird, spy-fiction floating seating arrangement, and pops the door at the side. "I'll relay everything as it goes. You drop your robot as soon as the First's robot," He jams a thumb into his own chest. "Finishes up, if you need to. I'll talk real fast. He knows I'm honest." He then drops out the door, parachuteless. As he descends, he turns invisible himself. Vanishing from sight, he slows his descent psychically, then drifts slowly to the ground and lands quietly near August. The only sound that indicates him is a soft crunch of dirt. When he does... he speaks, telepathically. "Heya, August! Hey, sorry to drop in on you, but I need to check on something. We had a pretty awful incident recently at Grand Dorado, and we think you might be able to help us track down the cause! A shooter with a lot of principles, targeting Staren for saving someone -- you know where we might be able to find them?" It's... so friendly. It's so positive, like he thinks that this exchange will just be how friends trade information. It's bereft of hostility, even though there's the unspoken part: That Parsons is here, personally, in spite of the invisibility. That Parsons is likely going to try to read August's brain and see if he's lying if he says he doesn't know, or gives them false information. But they're still friends who climbed Maslow Peak together.
August Kohler	As Parsons approaches, invisible, and speaks, August shifts in his position. At first, he drops his guard. It's his friend Parsons. Maybe he's- And then August immediately takes up his guard again. This isn't right. He's asking about the Gunner. Parsons is a powerful telepath. He can't trust him. August's thoughts immediately start shifting, as he starts thinking about random animals, thinking their name and image in his head over and over. It's not actually going to be very effective, but it's a clear attempt to white noise, as he presses a few buttons on his radio and lowers it. "I can't tell you anything, sorry." August bristles, starting to reach for his mirror bracelet. He doesn't summon. He /wants/ to trust Flamel. He wants to believe he won't do anything to him. But he's already been burnt enough.
Flamel Parsons	"Mmmnnnh. Dang. That's awful to hear. I /do/ need to find it out though, August. It's sort of a... big personal thing, you know? It's kind of important." Agent Parsons says, uneasily. August can feel the tone of his unease surging more with each surge of mental defense -- yeah, Parsons is doing what he does. "I mean-- I don't blame you for not telling me! Duty and all, and principles are actually /really/ important for psychological integrity and safety. I hope that you won't blame me for doing what I need to too, you know?" A soft crunch of something underfoot. There's an energy that makes the hair raise a little, makes the skin tingle. In just a second...
Riku	It was really only a matter of time until the Watch became annoying enough for the Concord to take action against them. Riku has no idea why this is happening, but Parsons is a threat in his own way. The same talents that can be used to heal minds can also be used to harm them, and turning the leader of the Watch into a drooling vegetable would be a problem. Then there's the matter of the gunner. Riku might not agree with the man's worldview, but they're trying to make August sell out one of their own. That is unacceptable. So it is that Riku began to act the moment he heard there was trouble. The call went out for support, and those who wished to could join him at at Watchtower and take the Corridors with him. He leads the way through the confusing, winding ways... The Corridor yawns open a hundred meters from the confrontation. Riku steps out, his gaze sweeping over the situation... But he doesn't notice the invisible Parsons. His gaze just slides over the man like he isn't even there, the man's psychic powers up to the task of bamboozling Riku's senses. But what Riku does see is August. "Kohler! Over here!" He calls, throwing a hand forward. His shadow slides forth, lashing out to wrap around the leader of the Watch and begin pulling him towards Riku... And theoretical safety. The other allies present can handle things their own way as well.
Android 17	Seventeen bursts out of the portal right on Riku's tail. When the younger man runs out, in a burst of speed that might as well be teleportation, Seventeen moves to land next to August. His eyes and ears searching. There wasn't anyone around, and he isn't aware of Parson's abilities. "So what the hell is going on here? What about the gunner? You know it's hard to get information when you cut out your coms like that," Seventeen says in a sort of faux complaint. It's more concern than actually trying to ride August for this. Still, Seventeen is on edge, nobody was in the open...yet.
Priscilla	Indeed, there is nobody around. August is tense and talking to an empty forest on his own. It might even feel a little silly to be responding to a situation like this with such urgency and fervour, pulling August away from nothing but some roadside mushrooms as if plucking him from the jaws of death ahead of a speeding train. It's a good thing Riku did, though, before it's just before a shallow crater suddenly turns the rough cobblestones up out of the dirt, spraying August with soil and leaf litter. Following a heavy thump, the sound of rustling vegetation is absent, replaced instead with the crackling glass sound of spreading ice. The roadside greenery rapidly turns black and falls away in fluttering pieces, and translucent frost crawls over the bare roots. "Why must thou always chooseth the most obstinately painful path?" comes the hushed, cold, and stilted voice that a Watchman usually hopes not to hear. "Even offered a way out with an open hand, from a dear friend of thine, thou insist in bringing these things upon thineself, always. What is it that made thee to grow into a young man who abhors the simple and civil?" "Thou already knoweth what this is about, I see. So even knowing, then, thou shalt cling to this childish obstinacy? I had at least hoped that thou had, somewhere within thee, a sense of the difference between independence and madness. Some demarcating border betwixt thine idea of a necessary evil, and simply plain evil." "I shall make this abundantly clear. The events at Grand Dorado were beyond the pale. Shouldst thou knoweth anything regarding them, or hath any ability whatsoever to tap those who dost, surrender them in good faith, not as an ally, but as a fellow human, and thou may yet retain the right to walk away. If thou shouldst refuse . . . this matter is simply far too important."
August Kohler	August is pulled back by the umbrakinetic lash before he can respond to the others, barely saved from the slash and the ice. August recognizes the cold voice immediately. "Priscilla, First of the Concord..." August shouts to his allies. "Both her and Flamel are invisible. Be cautious." Yet, the animal barrier goes down, because August is now thinking of the fight. His will is still strong, but that's one mind wall down. "I'll agree that what happened was a tragedy." There's a bit of double-play on that - if Flamel's still reading, there's a slip of a thought that August would have been OK with Staren's death. "But I can't tell you anything. And, civility? You ambushed me in the forest. Don't act like you're the mature ones here." Perhaps against his best judgment, it's the revolver August draws, not Dietrich. He's ready to fight.
Eggman	Priscilla's entrance is much more dramatic. Frost crawling on roofs, greenery turning black. Comparitively, Eggman just sort of gets out of the invisible vehicle. He's got a pair of knitting needles wrapped around some wires, which he appears to be working on rather concertedly. As he walks along behind the First, he eventually wraps the wires around his neck and mouth. Oh, he made a scarf. Out of wires. That's fucking weird. He doesn't say anything until Priscilla is done speaking, a deferential respect he doesn't show most people. Then again, he doesn't WORK for most people, so that's just sort of common sense. He brushes his moustache every so often as Priscilla and August speak, as Riku and Seventeen squad up. He's very relaxed. Very calm. When August goes for the gun, the rotund doctor clucks his tongue and shakes his head. The wire scarf twitches with it. "My dear young man," he says, his tone that of a lofty academic lecturing an unruly student, "What did you imagine would happen when you took up all the world on your shoulders? Did you expect that you would be treated kindly by those you opposed? That we would hash out problems over a cup of tea and a nice biscotti? That we should all walk away as friends, invite each other over to play board games?" Eggman's glasses glint. "You are a child. Your enemies are immature for giving you a chance to save yourself. Your enemies are uncivil for facing you like adults rather than stab you in the back in a proper ambush. For allowing you the chance to make your choice." He shrugs. "We can't help it if you chose wrong." The doctor's fingers snap. Silver Sonic emerges. It is...terrifying. Those red eyes, that silver gleam. Those hoverjets that don't touch the ground. Those box arms, undoubtedly full of weapons. Those pointed ears like devil's horns. It is a weapon made for killing protagonists. Eggman steps aside, allowing Silver Sonic to float up to join Priscilla. The thin layer of frost that creeps across it merely adds to its menace, reflecting the light in multifaceted flickers instead of simple polished chrome. "Although truth be told I already knew what you were going to say," the good Doctor shrugs, "I suppose it's not merely Mr. Parsons amongst our psychics is it?" "Now. Do be a good protagonist and put up a fight. I'd rather see my Silver Sonic put through its paces, you understand? It's only a first generation but it has so very much promise." "Or you could do the smart thing." Eggman laughs. "We all know you won't." Silver Sonic laughs, too. It's a tinny, metallic laugh. A creepy, high-pitched laugh. Is it automated? Just a pre-recorded laugh track? Or... Or... Oh God.
Android 17	Seventeen looks back towards August, there was something he wasn't being told why this was happening. Though still emotionless he turns back towards the direction of the voice. Taking a breath in, he steels himself. This was likely going to be a fight, a very hard fight given that two of their opponents were invisible, and one was the first herself. "I did not judge you for one to start fights without provocation, first. I appear to be out of the loop on this, so I would like to know what this is about. Apparently, our leader did not seem to grace us with the knowledge of whatever happened between you. Given the words and tones used..." "Something not great. So what does this have to do with the Gunman and August?" Seventeen asks but does not back down. He's willing to defend his allies, and himself if things go to blows. And then Eggman brings that thing out. That was a mockery of life, and of course, the horrible sound it makes. His eyes narrow, and almost immediately becomes a little less willing to talk things out. "Or you can start your own war crimes while pointing fingers, either-or."
Eggman	"Sir, please," Eggman says from behind Silver Sonic, "I don't commit war crimes." He grins. That unsettling grin that's too wide for his face. His teeth peek out around the edges of his scarf. "I commit super crimes."
Flamel Parsons	Parsons' energies surge. "Well! Glad to hear we agree! I know we'll disagree on plenty more, but it's good to find points of connection. This one's gonna be a bit worse than the therapies though, August. Just, you know, apologies in advance!" Android 17 is the only one who might be able to hear the echoes of a footfall -- though not the footfalls themselves. Especially the one nearish August. Flamel has two fingers on his temples, and to fingers held out like a pistol, and he was just... standing there, near August. His mirrored sunglasses hide an uneasy, sorrowful, friendly smile. But the blast is full-force bright white psychic light. It's meant to throw off August's mental defenses and stagger him hard enough, but sufficient warning might give August the chance to solidify deeper-layer defenses before the blast converts hard into an Astral Projection. Flamel Parsons normally attacks the Will To Fight. That's not quite right: He normally does therapy! But that doesn't mean he's any slouch when it comes to this brand of field interrogation. The force with which he strikes these psychic defenses with a sudden astral projection is... profound. Massive. It has the feeling of a bunker buster to the cranium. Flamel knows the scale of August's mental defenses, and he knows he can't afford to fiddle around with the small stuff. Just being nearby is enough to feel the 'shockwave' of psychic force, a palpable sensation of intrusive telepathic influence like shrapnel that only hits the skull. He'll need cover though. And he'll need it fast, because that invisibility dispelled as he was firing.
Riku	It might have been overreacting, but in this case it proves to be the right choice. When the head of the Watch drops off the grid like that, it's a problem no matter how you look at it. "Evil's everywhere. You have to pick what to deal with first. You only think it's beyond the pale because it's something that actually threatened something you owned." There is a flick of his hand, and the Soul Eater flashes into his grip, his casual clothing surging with a wave of darkness as it is replaced with his Heartbrand armor. "The Concord doesn't own the Multiverse yet. And never will." He flicks his eyes over to August. "You sure you want to stand your ground?" He nods. "All right. I've got your back." He nods to the Concord representatives, scowling as Silver Sonic arrives, his skin crawling as he hears that laugh. But then Flamel begins mentally attecking August. "Well, I guess that's how we're doing this." He says, the shadowy Eidolon bursting out of the darkness stretching from him. The Heartless-like shade rushes down Flamel, attempting to simply grapple and begin bear-hugging the Psychonaut.
Priscilla	"If I wished to be uncivil, I wouldst removeth thine arms and legs first, before allowing Sir Parsons near thee." Priscilla says. Her voice still comes from nowhere --from every random shadow of old forest growth. "The opportunity to ask for help and receive it as good friends is a courtesy done to him and to thee. It is unfortunate that thou wouldst reject his overtures, but we art here because I had that little faith in thee to begin with." Gravely, Priscilla insists "Of course thou can. Thou hast that ability always, at any time. Thou only refuse to exercise it, and thou art responsible for that much." "For what reason, then? What thou art doing is nothing less than protecting the man. If thou knowest him not, thou hast no reason to do so. If thou fear retribution, thou hast more to fear from us than he. If thou hath hope to profit from him, then thou art as intolerably, inexcusably vile as he. If thou feel kinship with him, then thou hast already strayed from what few redeeming qualities thou had left, and turned towards becoming a monster." "I am not asking for the heads of your allies, Kohler. I am demanding the right to due retribution, upon a murderer of an ordinary man who didst nothing to anyone, slaughtered without reason in broad daylight, killed where he stood in a place where he was meant to be safe --where it was mine guarantee that he wouldst be-- all because someone else entirely, dared be a bigger man, and chooseth to save a life. Is this truly the line thou wish to cross?" Priscilla knows exactly what Parsons is doing. This was entirely the plan. When the Psychonaut sadly has to resort to the plan B that even Priscilla had faintly hoped to spare him from, she moves into action immediately to guard him. The Eidolon is intercepted partway by something fast and heavy crashing into it from the side, ploughing a route through the dense trees that leaves a corridor of wilting leaves and crumbling, ashen bark behind it. "If I do not act against all evil, then I hath no right to punish that which falls upon mine doorstep? Thou hast the same opportunity, fool. If he will not, then act with sense, and spare thine leader what I shalt hath done to him."
Android 17	This is leaving a very bad taste in Seventeen's mouth, a very very bad taste. If not for the fact that Riku was also SORT OF RIGHT about one thing, he'd probably just leave. Between the speech from Priscilla, and the stupid looking hedgehog robot that is just /wrong/ to him...well... "So a few things. Did you want justice? You should have come openly. I'd have turned him over myself because of what he did, that I am just hearing about now, FOR SOME REASON," Seventeen turns his head towards August. That's going to be a conversation for later. "Second, you should have left SUPER CRIMES at home. Because now.." he says, vanishing, and appearing right in front of the silver robot. Seventeen aims a punch for the underside of the robot, attempting to take its head right off. Assuming it was just another annoying droid getting in his way. "So I guess we're doing this. So shut up and do it."
August Kohler	As Priscilla continues against August, he's about to say something. He's trying to be strong. It's difficult, with how much turmoil he's in lately. "I won't let you draw the line-" That psychic blast impacts him before Riku can intercept, sending August flying backwards. He lands, and goes into a strange trance. Flamel manages to astral project. The mental battle starts. The arena would be a piece of August's mental factory city, partially flooded, with platforms made of chunks of building and gears. The flooding is emotional turmoil, and has been that way for a while - August has had a Dilemma that's flooding his mind. It seems, at least basically, related to what Flamel wants to know, but gives no obvious answers. Tin Soldiers float in the water, no longer functioning. Dietrich is already summoned inside the mind, on top of a platform, as August stands there. When Flamel blasts in, his astral projection is met with the response of a flaming sword crashing into him, trying to push him out as quickly as he came in and try and wake August back up. "I trusted you. Now you're inside my mind...disgusting."
Flamel Parsons	In realspace, Flamel glances to one side as something plows his attacker out of the way, slamming them through trees. He can't do much in his trance, but he can breathe a sigh of relief and refocus on the matter. SLAM! Flamel's nearly crunched by the flaming sword. "We all get into each other's minds in a lot of ways! Remember, you've got a loose August in mine!" He says, in a positive way. "Mental influence isn't a binary, where everything is clear-cut by psychic things, you know? Is there really a difference between being part of someone's mentality psychically, or being part of someone's mentality socially? I think, in a way, saying that there's a hard line opens the path to a lot of social abuse. Trust me! From the look of it, I won't be able to get away with a whole lot of secrets here." Flamel is holding the flaming sword back with a heavy psychic barrier, but he can't do it long. He pulls away and dodge-rolls, coming out burned but still having integrity. His response: A leap, summoning a pair of massive, shining white psychic hands. He rushes to smash into Dietrich and engage them in close-quarters combat. If he can get a sufficiently solid punch, he can slam this arena, this projection, entirely through a layer of defenses and send it further into August's mind, closer to where he can find the secrets he's after. How close can he get, though? How buried is this secret? How far does he need to go?
Eggman	Seventeen punches Silver Sonic in the face. The machine skids back in the air, its head tilted back like some kind of rock-em-sock-em toy. It hangs there as if stunned. Eggman chuckles. "First, I'm not really the moral argument sort, my boy. I am Doctor Ivo Robotnik, the greatest supervillain the world has ever known. You may call me Eggman, or Doctor Eggman, or Doctor Robotnik, or any number of amusing names I have no doubt you will come up with to make fun of my weight, my baldness, my moustache, or my various unusual habits." "Have a business card." Eggman just sort of flicks the card at Seventeen's feet. It's completely harmless. It's just a piece of paper. No, really, for real. It's a very nice piece of paper with the EGGMAN EMPIRE logo on it - literally his face, stylized - but it is just a piece of paper. It lists his credentials - his numerous PhDs, his minor in Women's Studies, et cetera - and his full name. His profession is, indeed, listed as WORLD's GREATEST SUPERVILLAIN. He is literally a card-carrying villain. "So, with that out of the way, let's move on to the second thing." Eggman holds up two fingers. "You should've hit Silver Sonic much, much harder." The glasses gleam again. "That isn't nearly enough of a stress test to push its limits." The machine's head falls forward. Those red eyes gleam. Silver Sonic surges forward, fists whirling. It's a murderous array of high-speed punches, rapid-fire machine-gun piston punches. It's fast, but more than fast, it's fighting without regard for its own safety, without regard for any damage it might accrue. It's a machine. But those eyes are so terrifyingly lifelike...
Riku	The Eidolon gets crashed into, the shadowy thing vaporizing as Riku withdraws it before contact with the invisible assailant. Riku's eyes widen and he almost doubles over, grimacing. Normally, damage to the Eidolon doesn't really create feedback to Riku. The thing exists to do the heavy lifting, an expression of his Heart made manifest externally. But that? Well... That was a little different. Through sheer willpower, he forces himself to straighten up and stares at Flamel... Because the being in the way is invisible. "If you just wanted him, you could just hunt him down yourself. But now you're trying to come here and force it out of our leader on your say so? This isn't about kinship. It's about doing exactly what you guys have always done every time someone comes and yells at you people with some stupid thing about someone doing evil. You guys don't hand them over. Why should we? Don't give me that crap about acting against evil. You're just a gang rolling up to start a turf war." The Soul Eater comes up. "So fine. Let's start a turf war. DARKNESS... RISE!" There is a sudden eruption of black energy around him. Anger surges into his eyes like a fist being unclenched. The energy rolls around him in an aura. With a lashing of his hand, a rolling blast of black flame rushes at Flamel, Riku directly targetting the Psychonaut over and over with a barrage of strikes... And trying to force Priscilla's invisible form to intervene. The moment she does, Riku launches himself to the right, hurling himself through a dark tunnel to reappear to the left of the inteception point, slashing through the air in a blind cleave to try to catch the First off guard.
August Kohler	August is in a hard place, in his own mind. He tries to bolster himself with heroic words, ones that ring false in his own ears, because Priscilla is right. He's becoming a monster. He believes it himself. "The difference is...I didn't consent to this session, Flamel! I was basically /born/ of mental fuckery, you think I'm okay with letting anyone pry their way into my head?" Despite that, the words do get to August, and it shows in Dietrich's speed. The punch impacts with the armor - it doesn't hurt /August/ too much, but it does hurt the arena, as the waters shifts, and then, the entire scene changes in a blinding blur of white light. When they come to, they're between several buildings, cars now serving as platforms in the water rising around their ankles. Most of these buildings seem administrative. Emotional Oversight, Friendship Determination Bureau, the Office of Social Engineering. And then there's an important one. The one Flamel needs to push this arena. 'THE MUSEUM OF MEMORIES'. It has a big padlock over the door, with Dietrich standing on the stairs of it, tempting Flamel to come forward. If he does, Dietrich quickly moves to smash that sword tip-first into Flamel like it's a battering ram and send him flying backwards into the ever-rising waters, hoping to drown him in them.
Android 17	Eggman's card hits the ground, Seventeen reads it from where he is at. Huh, women's studies? Well, at least he's a /progressive/ equal opportunity villain. However, Seventeen wasn't in a mood to deal with this in his normal method of laid back. His heckles are up, between being excluded from the crimes of one of their own, the Concord rolling up on one of theirs, and of course Eggman's face. It's just so squishable. Like Gero's. "Let me guess, you have a rivalry with a guy you've never been able to defeat?" He says, starting to walk towards Eggman before the murder bot goes off standby and charges him. Seventeen and the robot clash, the two androids exchanging blows, with near precise blows. However, Seventeen seems to come out ahead of the exchange. A flash of speed causes Seventeen to drop down from above onto the hedgehog, aiming to send his elbow into the back of the thing's head and send it crashing to the ground. Those eyes... Those eyes...why does it look at him like that?
Flamel Parsons	"That's the important part. We don't consent to, say, being lied to. This isn't something to reject because I'm in your head in a different way, it's something to reject for a different reason." Flamel speaks up, rising up and surging towards the new target. But the sword slams into him -- and it slams so hard that it ejects Parsons clean out of August's brain all of a sudden as he impacts the waters. He's back in realspace! "OOF!" He slams back, sparks flying out of his skull, a hefty gush of psychic energy leaking out in a huge spray out the back of his spine, like he'd been truly impaled. He coughs up psychic water, fluid ideas that spill out from when they filled his lungs in August's brain. This one's too tough. He coughs. This is where he'd normally give up and retreat. But, that's not an option here. "For a young psychic like you, someone who's going to live their life with power like that, it's really important to remember that." He surges forward again, trying to get at August before the boy can come out of trance all the way. He surges with a levitation rush so hard it might send them both flying back as he tries to lock his hards around August's head. He tries to project back in with a forceful strike hard enough to fall from high above and strike the museum of memories like a missile, to break into its interior all at once.
Priscilla	"If I had any success in hunting him down thusfar, dost thou really believeth I wouldst be here?" Priscilla replies, simmering coldly somewhere in the trees. "It is far from enjoyable that I must deal with thee here." "Child that you are. This is thine opportunity for redemption. This is a chance given to the Watch to decide that there art evils too great and too pointless to be worthy of being called justice, and chooseth to reject them. Yet, rather than prove that thou art above him, thou defend him." That appears to be the limit to which Priscilla can try and reason with them while Parsons is so obviously vulnerable. As the key to the Concord's whole plan of action, he's an attractive target to someone trying to get out as quickly as possible, and who Priscilla needs to protect. Even if Riku knows that, and Priscilla knows he knows that, it's the reality of the situation. Before the scorching darkness can reach him, ethereal off-blue light arcs through the air, followed by eerily melodic humming and ringing clashes where Moonlight strikes and repels the enemy magic. Riku's blade strikes something yielding, yet remarkably hard, like cutting a brick covered in kevlar cloth. The edge slides down and away dull red, sprinkling the cobblestones. A solid strike, but to nothing vital --one of the major hurdles of not being able to see. Another is that he can't tell how it's affected his target in the moment, or whether he has an opening, and he has no time to do anything but guess before a shrill keening like a vibrating glass edge comes whirling towards him, bringing a beam of otherworldly light that cleaves and scorches through the bone.
August Kohler	As Flamel ejects, August stirs in the real world, and then, dives. He moves to regrab his radio and hook it to his side so he can communicate more efficiently while in that state, and then fires his gun at Flamel. It's likely to just graze him, but that's still much more accurate than a normal person could do in these circumstances. As the levitation rush comes forward, though, Flamel is able to grab August's head, and knock them backwards into a tree. He projects straight in, and the lock explodes violently, as the waters rise. But as the two feel like they're FLYING into the museum, as winds shift, a giant suit of knight armor made out of a tank stands at the doors to stop the water. It purrs with a horrible coarse voice. "August! I'll stop the turmoil from flooding the museum!" As Panzerkatze fights water with a tank cannon, a familiar sight to Flamel. Inside the museum, rows and rows of books, floating images, and video reels sit around. The times of Maslow Peak play on a video screen. Flamel is so close. He can already confirm that August absolutely knows the Nameless gunner, just based on how far in he is, but the whereabouts of this man are difficult ot find. There's only one section in this museum that could lead to them: the CONFIDENTIAL section, which is the most locked place in all of August's mind. August tries a different path than flaming swords. Darkness roils over the blade, and then starts launching off as projectiles, forcing Flamel into a bullet hell if he wants into that confidential section. It might even take more than one strike to break the lock!
Eggman	"Do I have to eggsplain this every time?" The Doctor sighs, as Silver Sonic's face hits the ground, hard. It smashes into the earth, digging its nose in. It just kind of...doesn't move. Eggman pauses. He frowns. His moustache droops. "My apologies. Bad habit. You start attaching the word Egg to all sorts of things and eventually you accidentally slip it into conversation. Think nothing of it." He waves his hand dismissively. Eggman is still tremendously unconcerned by the whole thing, which is more than a little bit distressing. He waves his hand idly in Riku's direction, acknowledging that, yes, Riku is basically right - he has no stake in this. "It's not about killing him. I could carpet-bomb him into the ground if I really wished. I want to show that I am superior in every respect. Showing the hedgehog up, not simply murdering him. Goodness, if I did that, I might as well admit defeat." Eggman pushes up his glasses. "But I suppose that's what you'd expect from a Gero model. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...? Surely not Nineteen, not that advanced. A human base. Poor man really didn't have a brain in his head, did he?" The dramatic irony is staggering. "He never quite got past that whole problem. Oh, I know, I know, the earlier ones were fully-mechanical, but they were so tremendously buggy. So I imagine," Eggman says, pulling out a phone and fiddling with it as he walks, "That he decided that humans were much easier to work with. Pulled out some of your guts, I imagine, put in some sort of infinite engine as a test-drive, probably intended to be upgraded or used as a component for some later, better model. Brute force. Tsk. Shameful." Eggman stops. "Really does a disservice to /evil scientists/ everywhere, to be so unbelievably sloppy as to think you can just brute force science and engineering into place." He shrugs. "On the other hand, it does have some intriguing advantages. For instance, did you know that all Gero-model androids, including yourself, I see, have a control schema somewhere in your body that responds to remote control? It's very primitive, like most of his work. A simple electrical impulse. Only good for making you freeze up." Eggman holds up his phone. There's a big red button on it. He grins the Eggman Grin. He presses the button. He activates Gero's paralysis circuit. "Now then, Silver Sonic. Please beat him within an inch of his life." Silver Sonic rises up. Its horrible red eyes gleam. And then it speaks. Oh God, it speaks. ++Yes, Master Robotnik.++ The machine surges forward to, again, basically just beat the living hell out of Android Seventeen, fists whirling, punching, swinging with all the speed it can muster. Which is quite a lot, considering.
Flamel Parsons	"Hnnh!" Flamel takes a shot hard, blunting it with a telekinetic barrier so that it leaves a long, deep glowing bruise in his side. By the time he's back in, the bleeding of psychic energy is stopping, but he's got more to worry about. Panting, he surges in -- though not without a quick thumbs-up to August's mental infrastructure. "Keep it up!" He calls back to Panzerkatze! Hey, don't gotta wreck the place, you know? He moves as fast as he can through. He has to find the CONFIDENTIAL section first, which necessitates fast and heavy use of clairvoyance, before he locks on and focuses on the lock. Hover-dashing like a madman, he plants both fingers on his temple and starts unloading psychic energy into the lock, trying to sear it open like an industrial cutting laser. But he takes a heavy shot of psychic darkness to the side, one that throws him off. And then another, and another, despite how fast he moves. One catches him dead-on in the head hard enough to force him out. "--Nnnnh! No!" He stumbles out of the mobile Astral Projection, his levitating grapple broken, and tumbles to the ground. But he struggles to his feet and lashes out a large, bright-white psychic hand, trying to grip August hard, though not in too damaging a way. His skull is dripping with leaking psychic energy now. Another projection. "Sorry about this, August...!" He lands back at the gate, and lets loose a breaching charge of psychic energy so hard it will rattle the whole museum -- and even create a small shockwave in the world around August and Flamel. He's gotta break in, whatever it takes!
Android 17	There was a surge through Seventeen's body. It /hurt/, causing the young man to collapse to his hands and knees as the pain and the feedback look caused some sort of paralysis. He isn't able to defend himself as capably as he was the first time. The robot gets his shots in, four hits slamming in, but despite that he managed to keep moving despite his pain, the blows shallow in their connection. As he moves, he lets the last hit knock him back enough to get some distance. Hitting the ground, he plays down for a moment letting the robot get closer, before snapping up and releasing a blast of energy from the hands and attempting to blast the robot right back towards its master to try and kill the red button. It's not going to go away fast, but Seventeen slowly rises to his feet. Eyes narrowed in a dangerous way, but that face has such a /very hateful/ grin on it. "Alright 'Doc', you want to take the place of Gero? I can arrange that."
Riku	"Oh yeah, fighting the First of the Concord is certainly something I wanted to do today." The deadpan is strong with this one. Still, Riku is using the fact that Parsons is vulnerable to the utmost. This is not the place for a Psychonaut to be doing their job, but you know, someone can't always get the best envrionment to work in. Riku would empathize if he had the capacity to do so at the moment. But really, he has no particular beef with the guy. However, as long as Parsons is in that position, Priscilla isn't able to use her full capability to simply ghost the hell out of Riku and pick him off at leisure. It is, as they say, nothing personnel, kid. Unfortuantely for the Heartbrand, Priscilla has far more at hand than simply the Lifehunt and invisibility. He strikes, but not lethally... But it's enough. The sprinkle of red means he struck something. If he can just- SHING! The air splits with the crescent moonlight, the energy wave blistering Riku. He has split seconds to react, and he hurls himself to the side, defying physics as he hurls himself out of the direct path of the light. The blast hurls him away, causing him to slam into the ground and skid backwards, his arm clutched to his side at the sizzling mark that runs along his side. Already, the pain is intense, forcing him to breathe heavily to keep his focus, keeping the roaring black around him under control. "That's for us to decide. Not you. How long has it been since anyone has actually told you no, First? You don't own the Watch. You don't get to make demands of us." Riku forces himself to his feet, and he levels his blade in the direction of the voice. "The fact that you're trying to tear Kohler's mind apart to get that information just means that talking about good and evil and honor is only useful as long as it's working for you." Again, he leaps through a Corridor, this time emerging in the air above Parsons, descending rapidly with blade pointed down to force Priscilla to guard him again. Again, when she reveals herself, she is counterattacked. This time, his shadow snaps out, the Eidolon reforming and dropping an axehandle smash through the area he guesses she will be in. Blunt trauma doesn't need to be as exact.
August Kohler	Panzerkatze ignores Flamel, but at least, he can tell it's not because of August's anger - the construct is just /very/ busy. The lock starts jolting, over and over, as Flamel stumbles out of the astral projection. This is followed by a swipe of a knife, quickly, from a shaking August, trying to slice into Flamel's arms and keep him backwards. It doesn't work, though it sure as hell might hurt him. And then Flamel gets back inside. He lets loose a breaching charge on the lock. The sheer amount of psychic energy sends books flying and rattles the entire building, causing August's nose to bleed, and the lock falls to the ground, briefly shattering, but starts rebuilding itself quickly. This is all the time Flamel has to push in the door, and find... An archive. Files. Alphabetically sorted. He'll have to be quick to pick what he actually wants - he can't gather much, because if he tries, he'll find that Dietrich's right behind him, and is creating a glowing bonfire of a mixture of psychic fire and psychic darkness. "Get out of my head. The gunner is one of mine, and I won't let you touch him." This is a mixture of 'What August actually wants to say' and how exposed he is, mentally, to Flamel. If that strike hits Flamel before he can get into the files, he'll be ejected with all the power August has, and the lock will be back on, stronger than before. So, time is ticking to grab the right file!
Eggman	The bolt of energy fires towards Silver Sonic. Silver Sonic backhands it out of the way. The energy bolt hits the ground next to the hovering machine. It tears up the ground. It sends up smoke and chunks of rock. The whole thing is suitably impressive and suitably remarkable, a display of Android 17's incredible power and Silver Sonic's own remarkable durability. Eggman wasn't kidding. This thing is not some run-of-the-mill toy. And those eyes, that voice - this thing is almost assuredly possessed of its own will, or something very much like one. The red eyes are the only thing visible through the smoke of the blast until it starts to clear, those terrible, piercing, glowing red eyes. Silver Sonic floats out of the blast. Eggman, meanwhile, has now completely disassembled the phone, attaching an antennae and hooking it into his absurd wire-scarf, and is fiddling with his with it idly. He's built a dial, a couple more, smaller dials, and an actual big red button out of the phone's contents, and is cheerfully messing about with the dials. Silver Sonic raises its arm. An obvious gun port emerges. It begins to charge with ominous purple energy. Oh yeah, this is a fight 17 has had before. "Replace Gero?" Eggman says idly as he messes with the dials. He stops for a moment, pushing up his glasses again for another DRAMATIC EGGMAN LENS FLARE. "Android 17, I am not interested in replacing Gero." "DOCTOR GERO COULDN'T HOLD A LIGHTBULB TO ME!" He slaps the dial, spinning it wildly out of control. Another surge of un-control as Silver Sonic unleashes a beam of purple energy. It's enough of a shot to blow down a whole bunch of trees behind them and dig a nice, proper Dragon Ball trench in the ground. Whether it'll be enough to actually hurt 17, well, who knows?
Flamel Parsons	Flamel can't afford to keep projecting. It's not healthy to breach without a psycho-portal. It's not healthy to breach twice in a row. Breaching three times -- four if he takes another hit that hard -- would be dangerous for a veteran, but Flamel Parsons has only been doing this for less than a dozen years. Only his raw, tremendous psychic potential is what's keeping him going. "I know you can't let me touch him!" Parsons calls out. "But that doesn't mean we don't need to anyway!" He has to move, and move quick. Levitation-powered maneuvers around the bookshelves, leaping up and bouncing between them as fast as he can, is the best he can get, bleeding from the arm badly and losing psychic energy from the wound because of the cut. HOW did Dietrich get back down here again?! The confusion rises and manifests, and he has to use it. Venting it into a construct at his hand, he pops the curl off a question mark and throws a confusion bomb as hard as he can at the ground. A blast of green mist floods things. Parsons comes down with a gas mask as his heavy confusion bomb disperses the combined effects of tear gas and a flashbang. He's gotta stall that Persona, because he sure as hell can't take it in a fight. Not on its home turf, not in this condition, and definitely not fueled by the tremendous psychic defensive power August Kohler has. Hoping that the Persona has been stalled for just a moment, he slams a hand into the rows of archived files, and floods them with clairvoyant energies, searching for the Grand Dorado Gunner using associative psychometry. He's gotta get that file and pull it /now/.
Android 17	Seventeen surges in pain again, that glitch in Gero's work being extorted to cause some massive pain and system glitches. He starts to rise to his feet, before another explosion tears through the ground and disables the Android barrier before he could activate it. The Android was just fast enough to avoid the direct strike, but enough so that it caught him. Sliding across the ground away from the explosion, Seventeen lands. A bit battered, but not down yet. However, his body spasms again, forcing him down. He keenly remembers the moment that the engine was put in him. Keenly remembers the torture and suffering both he and his sister were powerless to stop. It takes Seventeen to a dark place, a place he /hates/ to confront. He hates to acknowledge. He hates to want to experience again. However, through sheer anger and hatred, he drags himself to his feet. Power surges through his body, attempting to short out the circuit that was trying to control him. With a flash of speed, he was gone again, this time right in front of the silver creature. This time attempting to bash the creature away with a flurry of punches, before attempting to launch him upwards, and then back down with another flash of speed and both hands aiming to be driven into the back of its head. There are no words. Seventeen, fully and utterly done with this stares down at his handywork before his eyes shift right towards Eggman with as much malice as he can muster.
Priscilla	Being tied down to defend parsons is one of the more disadvantageous situations Priscilla can be forced to fight in. She constantly has to stay close to him, remain able to put herself between Riku and him, and expose herself at the moment she also isn't going to be able to attack. The overall acumen displayed by a teenager recognizing that and seizing on it is surprising, but Riku will get no praise from her. That first one was the best shot he had with that tactic. Now she knows what he's fishing for, and roughly what he'll do. Riku using the Corridors outlines a place where she has to be fairly exactly in order to stop him, and the powerful drop attack would limit what she could do at the same time. It's also, however, a big telegraph, and picking those apart --patterns, habits, openings, misdirections-- is what Priscilla does. Riku drops out on top of Parsons, blade down. A road of translucent frost, unnaturally blue and white, tears across the forest floor, and erupt upwards into a tower icy shards, pointed at him like pikes braced against his charge. They explode into a cloud of cold and glittering magic fire and dust when the Eidolon smashes the whole area. The sound of metal striking glass rings out from somewhere in the chaos. Bits of ice and dead vegetation ping upwards into the air. Something heavy hits the ground by Riku, then rolls past, goes silent, and then reappears briefly as the flex of a stout tree trunk and the violent rustling of its branches, then a swoosh of air. Even Flamel is difficult to see in the mist of diamond dust that has arisen from the cold. Riku can even see his breath. "Indeed, the decision is thine. Whether to be men or simply monsters by proxy; I gave you precisely the opportunity to decide such, and because thou wouldst not, here we art." "Of course I hath no care for things that do not affect me. Is it not perfectly natural to seek recompense for wrongs done against thee, without wishing to save the entire world? For every action taken, there is a consequence. Regardless of how thou wish the world --that other people-- wouldst work, here is the unfair reality. If you will not accept it, then neither shalt I."
August Kohler	Dietrich goes where it wants, because it's fast, and August is fast in his own mind. But he can't take a confusion bomb he isn't expecting. As it detonates, causing him to choke and fall backwards, the beacon sword is held back long enough for Flamel to use his psychometry to find the right file and pull out the folder. It's short. A very short file. But it's enough. The name is 'Gunner, Nameless'. His affiliation: Watch. His whereabouts... 'Hard to track, but Watchtower Ketchikan is frequented often, where he cooks for the group.' The thing is, there's many Ketchikans in many Alaskas. More psychometric energy will need to be used to trace it, and quickly, because that confusion bomb is about to wear off, as warning alarms blare. The mindscape itself is starting to fight back against Flamel, too, so he has to hurry, as the floor begins to pin him and try and shake to force him out.
Riku	Riku doesn't expect praise from the First. He expects to be instant hell murdered at any given moment. Even with these restrictions, Riku knows that all that does is keep things confined to a small area. The more they fight, the more Priscilla is going to find the weaknesses in his own technique... And he's not too proud to admit that he has them. After all, the MECC had proven that pretty directly. Everything he had done so far wasn't nearly enough. The defeats continue to gnaw at him, a lethal flaw of someone who is using their manifested emotions as weapon and armor. He's not good enough for this. But he has to be. The drop attack was a big risk.... And the forest of ice spikes that erupts through the area almost impales him. He twists, slamming a foot down precisely into one of the growing spike towers to vault off of it and run down along the shivering skewers, his body feeling them rip at him and leech off his heat as he leaps, tucking and rolling himself as the entire area blasts, filling with shrapnel. The first several fragments he parries out of the air, but several more win past his guard, tearing frozen lines along his flesh as he staggers backwards. "Focus." He hisses to himself, a warning as much as something to grasp onto as while he prepares his next move. His breath mists the air around him, his body shuddering from the cold... But he heard something. The movement. He heard her hit the floor. It draws his attention to the ground, the way the dust and fog swirls. She's invisible... Not ephemeral. His gaze searches as he looks back and forth... THERE! He seizes on an eddy in the fog, a movement of the dust. Is it Priscilla or an errant movement of wind? He can't tell immediately. However, he commits to it, lunging forward and dropping into a slide, tumbling forward to try to cleave at where he is guessing a leg would be. If he can hamstring her or make her bleed enough to reveal her position... August, meanwhile, is unfortunately having to fend for himself for a moment. Maybe a moment too long.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel knows what to find now. Watchtower Ketchikan. But the warning alarms are blaring. He's being attacked by the floor. He has to levitate, and strain to levitate particularly high. Both hands roil with energies as he starts pushing more clairvoyance into the mindscape. Watchtowers, he only has minor ideas of what to associate with. Homes. Safety. Feelings of accomplishment, of having built something. He has to find it. He has to find it fast. A spy knows more than anything that alarms like that mean death approaches. With this many projections... well, Flamel is at real, substantial risk. August's mental defenses are giving him hell, despite the fact that he's built to deal with them. He can't afford to spend a second longer in this than he has to. He takes the file, and he dashes. His speed if filled with stress and fear.
Eggman	The remote control sparks in Eggman's hand. He tosses it away as it bursts into flames. It hits the ground, a smoldering tribute to Seventeen's will. The Doctor sighs. "Even his most basic features are half-baked. Uneggseptable." Pause. "Blast." Seventeen stands, and hammers into Silver Sonic. The thing flops around like a rag doll with every punch. Those swinging fists push dents into the machine harder and harder. That uppercut sends it flying, and that haymaker sends it falling. Silver Sonic hits the ground hard enough to leave an impact crater, blowing even more smoke and dirt and rock around. It does not get up. Seventeen gives Eggman that wicked, malicious glare. Eggman tugs at his collar slightly. Seventeen is a great deal more...murderous...than the hedgehog he's used to dealing with. A great deal more willing to simply kill him and be done with it. He chuckles, awkwardly. This wasn't...a /great/ situation to be in. "Well," he says, "I suppose his faults are your features, hmmm?" "Bravo!" There's a buzz from the crater. Eggman heaves a massive sigh of relief as Silver Sonic rises up. He visibly slumps. "Ah, good. I was afraid you'd actually broken him. A few dents, a few dings." "But I'd watch out for-" Silver Sonic just moves to slug Seventeen right in the jaw. "-that wonderful right hook."
Android 17	Seventeen was distracted for a moment. The shield comes up to try and block the attack at the last moment, but Silver was just a /bit/ faster and smashing through the barrier and Seventeen's jaw. He goes flying, hitting the ground in a wide impact crater. For a moment, Seventeen lays there, the dirt still obscuring his features for a moment. He was so livid right now, and it was affecting his fighting efficiency. For once, Seventeen didn't care. He was beyond caring, the giant gaping wound that was his issues was torn up. The bandage of trying to be a better person was ripped right off. Every ounce of goodwill torn out and stepped on. He only had one outlet for this. There was a burst of speed that scattered the remaining dust. Appearing behind Silver, he aims to grab it by the shoulder and aims to toss it down with some great force towards the area where Eggman was. Turning in the air, that same look...that murderous look that might hide the haunted meat space that was between his ears stares down. Both hands aim down, as two large balls of electric-plasma like energy gather...and then fall from his hands in a lightning-fast attack, aiming to both destroy Silver, but also Eggman. Seventeen is absolutely done with today.
August Kohler	@emit Flamel grabs the file. He begins parsing the data. He's one step away from finding which Ketchikan. As soon as he has it, he's about to eject- -and that sword comes crashing down on him, moving to blast him out of the mind as painfully as possible. The entire museum furthers it with roiling blasts of fire and darkness to make sure he Gets Out, but it's too late. Flamel has exactly what he needs. Which is why August, as soon as Flamel is free, moves to try and plunge his knife into Flamel. "No hard feelings..." He says it caustically, but deep down, he might actually mean it. "But I can't let you get away with whatever you found." Yet, Flamel has one advantage - August is so dizzy and disoriented, he can't get a good real strike on him. But at the least, he can seriously hurt him.
Eggman	The huge energy blast points straight down. Silver Sonic goes straight up into it. The machine's terrible, glowing red eyes meet 17's dead on as its hands come right up into the attack. Its energy pours up into the attack, firing from both arms. It isn't playing Beam-O-War. It's scattering the attack away from Eggman. The blast is ridiculous. It splatters all across the battlefield, raining down bursts of explosive force. Dirt and rocks and trees and bushes and grass rain across the area, leaves shaking from trees in the aftermath. There's craters everywhere. There's burn marks. There's destruction. Mostly, though, there's a crumpled heap of metal that hits the ground, smoldering, vaguely in the shape of Silver Sonic. Eggman is unharmed. He's also already fleeing, hanging off one of those weird wasp robots he seems to have around him at all times as it shoots off. Silver Sonic's crumpled remains raise a hand towards him, those red eyes shifting blue, before they go dark, and the hand falls back into the mess. A small animal emerges from Silver Sonic, bouncing away from the destruction. That ended poorly, Eggman reflects as he dangles from the buzzbomber. Time to hit the drawing board.
Priscilla	Riku's insistence on decisiveness gives him little time to plan and means acting out on ill-advised faith, yet is ironically the better of the options available to him. Not pulling back to regroup. Not stopping to plan. Not waiting for the perfect opportunity. Thinking on the fly. Seizing whatever he sees. When someone has no information to work with, it's natural to become defensive and retreat into themselves, where they're systematically dismantled, but Riku's constant leaping back into danger isn't actually allowing Priscilla to maneuver as she'd like --especially with Parsons behind her. A coinflip on a breezy ribbon of air is a risk that no cool and collected fighter would take, but gambling on that, Riku's weapon finds purchase a second time, as well as the sound and sensation of ripping fabric, and a wet slick of dark blood, that freezes into wine-coloured ice the moment it hits the ground. He immediately tumbles into something else invisible, and bounces off course from there; there's only so much to hope for when aiming for a maneuver so low and narrow. He can feel the hairs on his exposed skin burn away when the deathly hum of Moonlight swings back down towards the earth, splitting a razor thin line through the stone and ice, glowing blue hot, and up and across his slide. "I had at least hoped to resolve this neatly, by appealing to the sense of justice thou purport to hold." Priscilla hisses. "But regardless, something unforgivable hath been done to me and mine, and I will see the one responsible bleed for it. If I must harm Kohler to accomplish it, then that is fine; he choseth such of his own will. If I must harm thee as well, so be it as well; thou art here by thine own choosing."
Flamel Parsons	Parsons has the two files. They're tucked away under one arm when everything explodes around him violently, blasting him out of August's archive of secrets. Stored away in memory. But not drawn out of the danger yet. Flamel is blasted back into his body. Slamming into his corporeal form, he flies back off his feet carried by the momentum of an explosion entirely imaginary, gasping and wheezing, bleeding psychic energies from his many wounds. Gasping painfully, he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't. Instead, August sets upon him, pouncing with the blade. He... can't move fast enough. August is slow, uncoordinated. Flamel knows he can't move fast enough to catch up with the vengeful Mask of the Watch. His psychic power can't be summoned up enough. Deep within the Mind Palace, infrastructure is shattered, broken, damaged, overloaded. His psychic circuitry is burnt out. He needs days to recover, not seconds. He can't muster a confusion grenade, or a barrier, or even a little telekinesis. The most he can muster... Is a quick motion of the hand. To shove the knife a little to one side, and capitalize on August's dizziness. It sinks in. Flamel is not the kind of machine-man who is made of strong steel. Without the psychic energies, the blade sinks deep. It plunges, and only barely misses vital organs -- the best that Flamel Parsons could do. He screams in deep, and intense pain. Too much to bear, nearly passing out. But he has to. He has to survive, and he has to get this info to Priscilla. Bringing up both arms, he moves to grapple August, and... Hugs him. Lightly, but firmly. A friendly gesture. Even at this moment, he wants to ease the stress, and be supportive to August. To be kind and to be positive to someone who he shares deep experiences with, one-of-a-kind challenges in their past. He only has a moment to say what he chooses to say.
August Kohler	August stabs into Flamel. Flamel is struggling, as is he. They both tango. And then, Flamel comes in. A strike of his own? August tries to pull the knife out and stab again, but- A hug. And some important words. 'I'm proud of you', Flamel says. 'You've grown', he basically says. August should stick to his guts and try and kill him. But he can't. He likes him too much, and Flamel has also, in a way, helped August answer his final question. The flood starts to disappear. August knows how he's going to answer that question. For now, the knife drops to the ground. August slumps against the tree. He can't fight anymore. Not because he's been physically bested, but... Because August no longer wants to fight him.
Flamel Parsons	"You... had so much in there. There was /so much/ defense, just to keep what's important to you safe. That's... it's really wonderful. Long time ago, I bet it would have been a softer target, but now, it just about took everything to get in there." Flamel says, with a deep and intense positivity radiating from his voice. "I'm really proud of you, August. How much you've grown from where I saw you at the base of Maslow Peak." "Don't let go of that. Being that reliable, trustworthy person. There's not enough of that. I really admire it. I know you won't trust me from here on out. But it's the truth. The Psychonauts could use someone like you someday, with principles as strong and as good as yours. You'd be more welcome than anyone I've ever seen" He winces, painfully, as the knife pulls away, but the smile stays. He leaves one hand with August, to grip his tightly, and squeeze it a little. "Goodbye, August. And good luck." He means it. Wherever August goes from here, he wants him to know there's plenty of support for him from Flamel. With a struggling, flickering shimmer, Flamel vanishes into invisibility.
Android 17	The ground near August and Flamel before he leaves just craters and blows out as Seventeen lands. There is just a limit of 'he's done with this' in his eyes, even as Flanel disappears. He probably has the information on Nameless. Seventeen doesn't care, in fact, he just turns towards August. His hand moves to shoulder him, and he takes to the air away from the fight and towards somewhere to take care fo whatever wounds he has. Taking it slow now would likely endanger Riku more than he needs to be. Riku didn't do anything wrong, so he's not willing to endanger the boy just because he's in a sour mood.
Riku	The action and decisiveness has been to his benefit, but the inherent clumsiness of fighting with an opponent he can't see or detect is destroying his ability to truly engage with the First. But then, that's just the way she wants it. Even the satisfaction of drawing blood doesn't mean he doesn't pay for it. Even as he darts away, he feels the Moonlight shear across his back, slicing a bloody path across his body and causing his hot blood to drip onto the ice to join that of the First, freezing there alongside. He's been fighting long enough, however, to come to a firm conclusion: He's not winning this fight. He's losing it slowly. Priscilla is simply working to manage him into a position where she can simply wipe him out. The process is inexorable, as certain as the death that she promises. And unfortunately, in the process of this, August's defenses had failed. Parsons has the information he needs. They have what they want. He failed. The knowledge of that stings in his mind, his heart pounding, the rage threatening to overwhelm him. The voice in the back of his mind, the old man that promises power, offers it once more. The power to destroy your enemies. The endless destruction of Darkness, his to command... A bloody hand grips at his face, fingers digging into the flesh to add to the pain, to help him focus, to bring him back to his senses. "You truly are the First of the Concord. You represent everything it is. Everything it will be. Nothing matters to you except whatever serves you. Even justice is twisted to the cause of your army of psychopaths. But if you think this is going to end with your vengeance, you're wrong." He steps back, letting 17 handle extracting August. He falls back, not trying to take potshots to try to find the invisible Parsons, but trying to run cover for the retreating Android and Mask as he begins hurling black flames, simply saturating the area to try to deny the area to pursuers. Eventually, they'll get far enough that he can open up another Corridor to extract them.