Start it Cold: Ice Nine

[Lord Bromosalino]

Holding out an outstretched arm, Vincent watched for Nikolai’s reaction. It was only natural to see Nikolai in a state of shock, granted he had never witnessed a display of a Devil Fruit before this moment. But, as the man Vincent knew Nikolai to be, the immovable object had returned to his normal state, though he was wounded. Sitting himself down on a near by crate, Nikolai began to treat his wound, tying it up with a dark, magenta piece of cloth that had been forgotten on the floor. Creating a makeshift bandage to stop anymore blood from flowing out of his shoulder wound, Nikolai answered Vincent.

"Though I have fought many a lapdog of this cursed Government, never have I encountered these so called 'officers.' If there is a way I can return to my home, I will."

Ha, ‘officers,’ though Vincent to himself with an inwardly chuckle. That Junpei had been nothing more than lucky in dealing the strike and he himself was at the very bottom of the officer food chain. Still, if the fight were to drag on, they would be in serious trouble as Marines were always quick to bring reinforcements.

"If not...then I will help you realize this dream of yours."

With a new fire in his eyes, Vincent let out a hearty laughter. He had finally won Nikolai over! Gripping Nikolai’s forearm, the two had created a bond stronger than any steel that could be forged. Assisting his newfound comrade, Vincent helped pull the man to his feet. Though they had dealt with the Marines that had accompanied Junpei, and in spite of the wonderful blow that Nikolai had landed, the ensign was still down there, ready for them.

"Come, Vincent. Like you say, we mustn't dawdle. This Junpei may have called more soldiers to his side; this battle is not over.”

Taking a quick moment to mumble once more, this Nikolai seemed to do it quite a bit, the giant launched himself through the new door in the wall, landing in a rather ungraceful thud. Following suit, albeit much more gracefully, Vincent jumped out, his hands back in their usual spot; his pockets. Taking a moment to look around, Vincent had noticed that the majority of the crowd had taken cover; after all, they had seen a Marine officer smashed through a two story building and two men jump after him. Whatever was going to happen, no one wanted to be caught in the middle of it, yet none wanted to miss it. Besides the few lingering, brave souls out on the streets, nothing else seemed to move, or even breathe for that matter. The air felt tightened, and the ground was cold and rigid. Tension hung in the air, almost as if nature itself knew something that others where just catching onto.

Turning back towards Nikolai, Vincent saw a jet black hammer replace Nikolai’s once empty hand. Whatever skill Nikolai had with that weapon was sure to be devastating, even if he were to swing it around aimlessly. As Nikolai prepared himself by getting into a low, solid stance, four more Marines joined them, just as Vincent suspected would happen. Though this would not have been a problem if they were simple, common soldiers. However, one stood out. A man wearing a green jumpsuit, depicting his status as most officers usually wore their own choice of clothing. What was interesting was that, if the two were to stand side by side, this new officer stood of equal and impressive height as Nikolai.

“Ah, Lieutenant Thatcher! So nice of you to join us.”

“I swear, Jun. I'm always caught cleaning up your messes.”

Damn.

For the first time in nearly ten years, Vincent felt true fear. Here before him, a Marine Lieutenant had shown himself. Growing up on Marine bases, Vincent knew the power of a Marine Lieutenant and instantly recognized the danger that Vincent and Nikolai were in.

"Well fuck you too, Lieutenant. Just cause you outrank me doesn't mean you can-"

As far as speed went, Vincent was no slow poke. Yet, in the next blink of an eye, this Thatcher had covered a good sized distance and was in front of Junpei, who was already kneeling over from an punch to the gut that Vincent had nearly missed. Sometimes, Vincent had forgotten the true strength of a high ranking Marine, but now, he would have to face someone of Thatcher’s speed and strength.

"Treat you like shit? Was that what you were gonna' say? Actually...that's exactly what it means. So shut the fuck up, and take care of these pricks. So these are the guys giving you a hard time, Jun? They don't look much to me..."

Ignoring his hurt comrade, Thatcher’s disposition changed nearly instantaneously. He seemed, from Vincent’s perspective, very unstable, and that could be a dangerous thing.

"Tch, they may be scrubs, but they pack a punch; and that's kid's a Zoan-user. Jaguar Model."

With a devious smile making its way across Thatcher’s face, Vincent was on his guard immediately. Pulling out two spiked tonfa, Thatcher had made Vincent his target. Spinning them at great speeds, Thatcher let out a grin accompanied by a taunt.

"Well you don't say...You're mine, pussy cat."

An eye slightly twitching, Vincent allowed his emotions to get the better of him. That was one taunt that he could not ignore and Thatcher would pay for such an insult. Well, Thatcher would see just what kind of ‘pussy cat’ he had gotten himself mixed up with. Letting out an unearthly, ungodly growl, Vincent’s body went through the transformation. Looking down on Thatcher, Vincent’s tail eagerly twitched back and forth, claws extended and contracted in anger. But more than that, the vibrant green eyes told of a desire to rip the man to shreds, and Vincent would make good on his word.

[Raab]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:450px;] by my will of iron i shall [style=float:left; margin-left:60px; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] [/style][style=float:left; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] "En garde, swine!" Junpei leapt towards Nikolai with a menacing ferocity, his composure lacking any and all of its previous arrogance and conceit. Witty jeers fell victim to ferocious screams and hearty battle cries; it seemed as if Nikolai and this Thatcher's attacks did well to spark a fire in the Ensign's heart, fueling his increasingly speedy and forceful onslaught. In a matter of seconds, the rabid marine executed what seemed to be in the upwards of fifteen pinpoint thrusts, undoubtedly catching Nikolai by surprise. Attempting to read Junpei's movements, Nikolai did his best to dodge as many of the attacks as he could, blocking those he had no chance of evading. Three jabs to the shoulder, two to the shin, four more to the gut and and six to the head; it was clear that Junpei wanted to take Nikolai out as quickly as possible. Even so, Junpei's offense was not perfect; where Junpei's previously smug demeanor did well to control his movements, making them as energy-efficient as possible, his most recent flurry of attacks had expended a great amount of strength while simultaneously leaving the Ensign open to attack. All Nikolai had to do was endure, and strike when the moment was right. ...Now! Amidst Junpei flurry of stabs, rather than backpedaling for the dodge, Nikolai took a step forward, taking the blade head on. Junpei's eyes flared, his ferocity becoming painfully apparent. "Fool!" Junpei pressed harder, his blade grazing Nikolai's right oblique. Like a knife through warm butter, Junpei's sabre slid through the top layers of Nikolai's skin. For a normal man, this may have been incredibly painful, countering whatever move he may have had planned. Nikolai was as far from normal as one could get. Ignoring the cool steel, Nikolai stretched out his right arm, making it perfectly parallel to the ground below. For Nikolai, all he had to do was keep his forward momentum; the old blacksmith would undoubtedly make his mark, for the speed and force with which Junpei was moving made it impossible for the man to dodge. In the next second or two, Junpei's face would charge directly into Nikolai's gargantuan bicep, effectively clotheslining the poor Ensign. Junpei, in the last moment before his face made sweet, sweet love to Nikolai's arm, he grimaced. Well shit. The sheer force with which the two entities collided caused the sound of flesh meeting flesh to echo through the streets of Sleet Town. The few citizens that hadn't been broken away from their daily routine were now undoubtedly captivated by the battle that had just erupted amidst the once perfectly ordinary day. The jaws of onlookers dropped as they saw Junpei's body fly into the air, and then subsequently landing with a violent thud, snow flying into the air after his body's impact. At once, whispers shot through the crowd as a snake might slither through tall grass. "Who is that man?" "So powerful..." "Is that..." "...Nikolai?" "The blacksmith?" Slowly, but surely, the crowd's idle chatter became a dull roar, praises of Nikolai's prowess ringing throughout the few blocks surrounding the battleground. Nikolai, breathing heavily, suddenly became aware of the crowd's exaltations. They...they speak of me? Grinning between deep breaths, Nikolai's heart began to warm; never before had he experienced such open praise of his talent. It did well to distract him from the task at hand, for it seemed Junpei, against all odds, was back on his feet. Tattered and bruised, Junpei hoisted himself up, using his blade as a crutch. Though, this lack of strength was only momentary, for the marine suddenly snapped into attention, his blade quivering with the same anxiety that was so apparent in the shop a few minutes prior. It was almost as if the blade were made of rubber, its elasticity increasing tenfold. It was only the sudden death of the crowd's jabbering that Nikolai came to notice this. Nikolai raised an eyebrow, obviously perplexed by the physical anomaly occurring before him. Before he could question the phenomenon, however, Junpei called out to him. "You've done well to surprise me, Mr. Chernekov! Never before has a brute such as yourself given me so much trouble. You've even forced me to let out the wasp!" It was then that Junpei's blade began buzzing with an unholy fervor. Nikolai was immediately taken aback; what kind of witchcraft was this? "Art of the Vespa: Buzz!" The rapier's blade began vibrating ever faster, its movements now completely masked to the naked eye. Nikolai's heart began to race. I...I can't see it! Noticing the distress in Nikolai's eyes, Junpei let out a hearty laugh. "Ah ha haaa! As the flapping of a wasp's wings are virtually indiscernible to the naked eye, so is my blade, Mr. Chernekov! How will you hope to defend against something you can't see?" With that, Junpei let out another booming cackle that sent a shiver down Nikolai's spine. Never before had he witnessed such swordplay, in stories or otherwise. For the first time in a while, Nikolai felt helpless. Bozhe moy...what can I do? ___ Not ten meters away, Vincent and Thatcher began eying each other up. The Lieutenant could do little more than laugh as Vincent took his bait, revealing the power of his Devil Fruit before the battle even began. "My, my! Kitty's got claws." All the while, Thatcher slowly began increasing the speed with which he spun his tonfa, seemingly unfazed by Vincent's unholy cry; an amalgamation of wind began building around the blades' edges, creating two small, concentrated air discs that were floating just above Thatcher's forearms. The force with which the two discs were spinning could easily rend strong wood asunder, which made them incredibly deadly. "You can purr all you want, kid. It doesn't scare me one bit." Thatcher chuckled under his breath, whispering to himself in a rather uncharacteristic manner. "Art of the Cyclone: Howl" With that, Thatcher brought his right arm up, thrusting his spinning tonfa forward with al his might. As the weapon reached the peak of its trajectory, the spiraling disc of wind shot towards vincent with an amazing speed, letting out a vicious howl that one might hear amidst a violent squall. Moments after, the Lieutenant followed up the second wind-disc, each traveling with incredible speed towards Vincent's location. Let's see what you're made of, pussy. WORDS: 1,061 TAGS: Wasp, Bear, Squall, Jaguar MUSIC: Last Hunters NOTES: - [/style] CONQUER

made by cirrus

[Lord Bromosalino]

“My, my. Kitty’s got claws!

If Vincent hadn’t been so angry that he simply had to howl, the feral, young man would have leapt towards Thatcher immediately. However, those spinning tonfas presented a challenge. Though the speed and control that the Marine had over his weapon was impressive, it was the whirling winds which were more dangerous than the actual spiked tonfas. The sight of the razor sharp disks made Vincent wary of leaping in to the brawl the way he was used to fighting. This was no low life that he was fighting. The man before him was a Lieutenant, and Vincent would need more than brute force, of which he plenty to spare, to overcome this fighting force.

Chancing a quick glance towards his companion, Vincent saw a similar scene; the ensign Junpei was once more flung through the air. That was good. If Nikolai won, it would drastically reduce the moral of the Marines, though at this time none of the other Marines dared enter either fight.

“You can purr all you want, kid. It doesn’t scare me one bit.

By his nature, Vincent wasn’t much of a talker, especially in times such as this. However, it took every ounce of strength to remain calm. This Thatcher was only playing Vincent, taunting him. But try as he would, Vincent would not let him take residence in his mind. Each taunt was only meant to force Vincent to make the mistake of rushing into whatever Thatcher had up his sleeve. Though, with the ever increasing whirlwinds spinning off of his dual tonfas, Vincent had a pretty good guess as to what that trap was. It was a known fact that those with considerable skill with weapons, typically bladed weapons, were able to use the very power of the wind to shred their opponent with little difficulty. And with the disks of wind spinning at a high velocity above his arms, Thatcher had a deadly weapon at his disposal. Though this style of fighting was common with many of the more powerful figures in the world, this was the first time Vincent would face such an opponent. He needed to be light on his feet and sharp of mind. Bending his knees slightly, Vincent put the majority of his weight forward, ready to spring either forward or to the side in a moments notice.

When suddenly, a bizarre noise stole Vincent’s attention. The noise in question was a loud, obnoxious buzzing, almost as if a swarm of insects had arrived. Looking for the noise, Vincent was surprised, to say the least, to find out where it had come from; Junpei’s rapier! Though, it was no longer a rapier. The blade had all but vanished, leaving an invisible, buzzing blade in its wake. For a moment, Vincent was worried for Nikolai, but then he remembered who Junpei’s opponent was. Junpei would find that the battle would not be so easily one, no matter the amount of simple tricks he could bring.

“Art of the Cyclone: Howl.”

Barely audible, Vincent’s head snapped to attention at the sound of Thatcher’s mumbling only to see Thatcher’s right arm shoot up, almost as if he was hurling the spinning tonfa at Vincent. However, instead of launching the spiked weapon, the disk of wind, just as Vincent suspected, shot forward with blinding speed. Milliseconds later, the left arm came up, followed by the same screech that had followed the first spinning disk.

By instinct, rather than by skill, Vincent was still alive. Seeing Thatcher’s arm move for the initial attack, Vincent instantly darted to right, barely dodging the first. However, that was Vincent’s mistake. He had darted right in the line of sight of the second attack. Vincent hadn’t anticipated that the second attack would come so soon after the first, or as accurately as it did. As a result, a grievous slash had made its way across Vincent’s left shoulder. Though not very wide nor deep, the cut had easily shredded through both jacket and flesh. Luckily, it had not cut through any bone. Vincent certainly had reason to thank his lucky stars. Though, that would have to wait.

Surely Thatcher wouldn’t hesitate to attack again, and Vincent would have to be ready. But the attacks had come to quickly for Vincent to even see them. Counter-attacking would be impossible at this point. What could he do?

[Raab]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:450px;] by my will of iron i shall [style=float:left; margin-left:60px; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] [/style][style=float:left; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] Junpei couldn't help but cackle happily at Nikolai's extreme distress; the old blacksmith had been confident and collected not fifteen minutes prior, standing tall in the name of the shopkeep's honor. Now, in the presence of Junpei's abnormal skill of the blade, Nikolai could do little but quiver. Nikolai was, undoubtedly, fear-stricken, this being the first time he would witness fear's resolve-rending force. This was the power he had heard so much of from his late guardian. This was the force that plagued his dreams in the dead of night. This was the weapon that he so desperately sought to yield...though now, it was being used against him. Nikolai would have to learn how to endure it, to tame this power...especially if he planned on surviving what had just recently become the most challenging battle of his life. Though, try as he might, Nikolai simply couldn't stay focused on the task at hand; between the chattering of the crowd and Junpei's wasp-like blade, his attention faltered. What ultimately broke Nikolai's concentration were the ear-splitting howls which had just recently erupted from the other side of the battlefield. One resembled a large beast, a roar undoubtedly belonging to his comrade. The other two, however, were of a complete different nature. The two subsequent howls resembled the calls of a great storm not unlike the blizzard of the previous night. Turning his head ever so slightly, Nikolai managed to witness the marine known as Thatcher's mastery of his weapon: great discs of condensed air shooting towards Vincent with immense speed and force. Once again, Nikolai was stricken with awe. These men...they are demons, all of them! Never before have I seen suc-... Nikolai's thought had been cut short by an intense pain in his chest; quickly raising a hand to his bare pectoral region, Nikolai felt warm blood pouring from small, needle like wounds that seemed to litter his entire torso. While the wounds were shallow, the sheer number of them caused Nikolai to slump in his stance slightly, obviously showing his loss in strength. Looking up towards Junpei, Nikolai could see that the man's sabre was now rigid, as before, though a long trail of blood ran down the length of the blade. Junpei himself mirrored his weapon, standing rigid, his face lacking any and all emotion. "I won't tell you again, swine; your battle's here...with me." Junpei entered a tall stance, holding his blade before him with his dominant hand. The rapier sprung to life in an instant, resuming its infernal buzzing, the blade completely disappearing from view. Junpei went on to explain to Nikolai what exactly he had just experienced. "While I am a gentleman and think it dishonorable to strike a man down while his head is turned, I felt the need to educate you; your lack of attention disgusted me, and you received punishment accordingly. " Junpei's face assumed its devilish grin. "To elaborate, I felt that 'Art of the Vespa: Sting' was the proper medium with which to enact this punishment." After a small fit of cough-ridden chuckling, Junpei continued. "You see, I have mastered the art of swordplay, Mr. Chernekov. I have become so proficient that I have fashioned a unique style which I like to call the 'Art of the Vespa.' As you may have noticed, I favor speed and precision as opposed to brute force. With these things in mind, I take advantage of my blade's extreme elasticity to create a veritable swarm of stinger-like attacks, much like a hive of hornets'. What might seem like a single thrust to you may well be twenty, maybe even thirty strikes to my trained eye! Your 'country-bumpkin' boxing won't help you here, Mr. Chernekov." Enduring yet another fit of cackling, Nikolai took a moment to process all this new information. Though the blade looked to be invisible, it was merely vibrating at an incredible speed. In all of Nikolai's years of smithing, never before had he seen a weapon with such elastic capability; all of Nikolai's weapons were forged to be stiff and strong, capable of enduring years of wear-and-tear. It seemed that Junpei sacrificed strength for petty tricks such as this "Vespa Art." Slowly, but surely, Nikolai came to understand this Junpei's strategy; it was nothing unholy or demon-like, but an elaborate ruse. It might have been in Junpei's best interest to keep Nikolai guessing, for now, the old blacksmith had regained his sense of confidence. Through clenched teeth, Nikolai called out to his opponent. "It is true, you may have speed and skill...but I have God on my side..." Nikolai assumed his strong, low stance once more, placing his feet firmly on the ground. Blood was still slowly trickling from the myriad of holes on the man's torso, but it was nothing he couldn't endure for a while longer. Like his weapons, Nikolai was built for years of wear-and-tear; the bites of a thousand wasps couldn't take down this mighty warrior. It seemed, however, that Junpei didn't think much of Nikolai's rebuttal. Narrowing his eyes, Junpei whispered under his breath. "God won't help you either, swine." And so, with newfound knowledge and resolve, Nikolai took towards his opponent, running with as much power and speed as he could muster. Seeing his opponent's bold move, Junpei took to the offensive as well, thrusting his quivering blade forward with all his might. Seeing the lunge, Nikolai decided to meet the attack head on, bringing his hammer up and out, thrusting in a similar manner to Junpei. If I understand correctly, this marine, for all his profession of precision, has little control over where exactly his stings will land. So, should I meet the lunge head on, I could possibly catch the tip of the blade before it even comes close. Though, if I miscalculate the weapons trajectory in the slightest bit... In the next second, Junpei's blade winked into existence, its vibrating halted due to its scraping against the top edge of Nikolai's hammer. While Nikolai's hypothesis was correct, it seemed that he had aimed too low when attempting to "catch" Junpei's blade. Unfortunately, Nikolai was in no place to dodge, and Junpei's blade found it's way Nikolai's left occipital, boring deep into the black smith's flesh. Nikolai clenched his teeth due to the pain, trying his best not to cry out in agony. Though, the unfazed Junpei was not finished, quickly unsheathing his blade from Nikolai's body; he sought to follow up with a second jab to the chest. "I'll have your heart, Mr. Chernekov!" Even amidst the pain, Nikolai found a way to turn his body so that the blade managed to do little but pierce the air behind the old blacksmith's body. Frustrated by Nikolai's uncharacteristic dodge, Junpei brought his thrusting-arm back, elbowing Nikolai on the back of the head. This counter sent Nikolai sprawling onto the ground, his already wounded chest scraping against the snow-laden street. Junpei merely propelled himself forward, stopping on a dime and twirling to see the state of his opponent. Looking quite happy with himself, Junpei let out a ear-splitting cackle once again. "I'm out of your league, Mr. Chernekov! You'll be lucky if you escape this town with your life." Nikolai, struggling to his feet, placed a bare hand over his fresh wound; had it not been for his extreme tenacity, Nikolai would have stayed on the ground, writhing in pain. Clenching his free hand around the handle of his mighty hammer, Nikolai turned to meet his opponents gaze. Get it together, you old fool. Don't let...Vincent see... ___ At the opposite side of the battlefield, Thatcher was readying another attack, chuckling to himself all the while. "Gee, I would have taken you for an 'in-your-face' kinda guy, puss. What're you doing dancin' all the way over there?" While the Zoan-wielding boy managed to dodge the first attack, Thatcher's follow-up did well to strike this Vincent in the shoulder, leaving little more than a flesh wound. Though, this hadn't bothered Thatcher much; his opponent undoubtedly felt how easily the disc passed through his flesh, and would be set on the defensive. It would do little good seeing as Thatcher was a man who called forth the power of winds, effectively tearing down any obstacle that might cross his path. This Zoan-user was little more than a anthill, easily torn asunder by the weakest of gusts. As Thatcher's tonfa increased in speed, the discs began forming again; perhaps it was time to play with the the kitty cat a while longer. "Art of the Cyclone: Draft" Much like before, Thatcher hurled the disc in his left hand towards Vincent's location. However this time, instead of hurling the second disc, Thatcher used his incredible speed to sprint towards his opponent, mimicking the "green flash" that the two law-breakers had witnessed a few minutes prior. In a second, Thatcher was above Vincent, thrusting his right air-disc downward. This created a vicious pincer attack; one disc had been aimed towards Vincent's stomach, the other for the top of his head. "How about we take a little off the top, puss!" WORDS: 1,525 TAGS: Sting, Rend, Power, Endurance MUSIC: Those Who Fight Further NOTES: - [/style] CONQUER

made by cirrus

[Lord Bromosalino]

Sheer luck had been on his side today, it had seemed. Placing a large, clawed hand over his fresh wound, Vincent merely winced. The cut had been shallow, for the most part, and the arm itself was still useable. Stretching and flexing that arm, Vincent took another chance, though it might have been stupid on his part, to see how his comrade was faring. And what he saw made him worried. Expecting to see a familiar scene, Vincent had done a double take, to make sure that he was not hallucinating. Nikolai, not Junpei, was on the ground with dozens of fresh wounds. Junpei had proved to be too much for Nikolai.

No, it was not over. not yet at least. Though Vincent was not the type to care for others, he wanted to believe that Nikolai could win; in fact, he had to win! Vincent had already decided that Nikolai was to join him. No other person had proved to be as much as a man as Nikolai.

Though Vincent was not ‘religious’, he believed that somewhere up there was a deity of sorts. Whispering a short prayer on Nikolai’s behalf, Vincent turned back to his own fight. No more distractions, no more worrying for anyone but himself.

As Vincent had predicted, Thatcher hadn’t let up on the attack for a moment. The Lieutenant was well-trained and ruthless. Giving no quarter, Thatcher most undoubtedly did not want to let Vincent get in close and use his monstrous strength. Thatcher was good. In fact, he was good enough to force Vincent to consider an option he was fervently against; retreat.

"Gee, I would have taken you for an 'in-your-face' kinda guy, puss. What're you doing dancin' all the way over there?"

As his fellow comrade, Thatcher took great joy in both taunting and laughing at his opponent. Weakness. Thatcher thoroughly enjoyed showing his disappointment in Vincent, and he allowed himself to stop the attack, even if for a short period, to once again taunt Vincent. If Vincent was correct in his theory, Thatcher would continually do so, giving his enemy an opportunity to launch a surprise attack of his own. The problem was closing the distance.

Having finished his taunt, Thatcher wound up for another attack. Spinning at ungodly speeds, the winds whirled and screeched, forming discs once more. Placing his weight on his toes, Vincent was loose and ready.

"Art of the Cyclone: Draft"

Prepared once more for the attack, Vincent crouched into a very feline stance. He expected that a whirling disk would fly straight, for the most part, towards Vincent, horizontal to the ground. Anticipating the attack, Vincent dropped to the ground, which would make the attack useless as the disk would simply wiz overhead. Pulling himself into a position low to the ground, similar to that of a runner taking his place on a block, Vincent was ready to launch himself towards his opponent the moment the attack went overhead, even if he still had one disk. After all, if he could dodge his next attack, Thatcher would be left wide open. However, for all of his strategy, Vincent couldn’t have expected what would happen next.

In the short half second of Vincent’s thoughts, Thatcher displayed a power that had originally made Vincent wary. Utilizing the same speed he had shown in their initial encounter, Thatcher sprinted towards Vincent and then simply disappeared only to appear right above Vincent.

"How about we take a little off the top, puss!"

It was then that Vincent saw what Thatcher was planning. By launching an initial horizontal attack, followed up by a quick overhead vertical attack, Thatcher was planning to put Vincent into a pinch, a guillotine.

Staying low to the ground, Vincent used all the explosive energy he had stored up for his initial plan to jump sideways, using his powerful legs and arms to propel him away from the Lieutenant once again. Damn.

Such immense speed, it was ridiculous. If only Vincent could get in close, he could end it with one or two blows, of that he was certain. But once again, Vincent could not help but wonder; what could he do?

[Raab]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:450px;] by my will of iron i shall [style=float:left; margin-left:60px; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] [/style][style=float:left; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] Come on... ...get it together... ...old fool. With each subtle movement, blood sprung forth from Nikolai's serious oblique-wound; he would have to find a way to keep it under pressure while simultaneously finding a way to stay in the fight. Unable to take hold of his hammer any longer, Nikolai dropped it, the ninety-pound weapon landing with a massive thud as it struck the ground below. Nikolai continued to tear the bottom of his slacks, retrieving just enough cloth that would help bandage his tattered torso. As quickly as he could, Nikolai began winding the newly-ripped linen around his stomach; with his wounds, however, Nikolai had no hope of making the dressing as tight as was necessary. Struggling through the shoddy doctoring, Nikolai managed to finally make a halfway-decent swathe for his mangled body. It was only afterwards that he retrieved his hammer from the snowy ground, pain shooting throughout his entire body with even the slightest motion. Junpei could see Nikolai's pain, and being the smug character he was, couldn't help but comment on the poor man's state. "You know, Mr. Chernekov, there's a certain procedure we officers call a 'tactical retreat'; it is a strategy used when we have misgauged an opponent's strength. To save our numbers, we withdraw from a battle so as to better prepare ourselves for the future. It seems that you have greatly misgauged my own strength, Mr. Chernekov, so I will allow you this one time to retreat." That grin...that hellish grin. "I will drop any and all charges on your name; the knowledge that I have educated a miscreant such as yourself in the ways of justice and honor is payment enough for me." Junpei lowered his weapon for a few moments, assuming a rather casual stance in response to Nikolai's own feeble posture. "After all...you're nothing; you're just a man caged in this icy prison that you call home. You will never amount to anything. So go, go back to whatever ditch your crawled out of with your tail between your legs, dog. Maybe then your 'God' will hear you." The air was deathly still for a few minutes. The crowd had completely silenced itself, waiting to see if this old, country blacksmith had anything to say in response to the Ensign's conceit-ridden speech. The crowd looked on at the battered old man, seeing that he was using all of his strength just to stand. Perhaps this Nikolai really was an amateur, a mere scuff on the boot of this naval officer. Maybe it was best that he returned to his simple life, ignore the workings of higher powers, and be content with his low status. Perhaps...perhaps... Nikolai had something to say. Between clenched teeth and fits of violent coughing, Nikolai responded to the notorious Junpei. "We...we are so different, marine. I truly do not understand your sense of 'justice' and 'honor' as you call them. Where is justice in your extortion? Where is honor when you call others to fight your battles. You say I am the swine, the dog...though in you, I see something far worse: an insect. You are capable of buzzing, stinging, nagging...though nothing more; you retreat at the first sign of swatting hands..." Nikolai, ignoring the pain which coursed ferociously through his body, stood up to his full height. "I know not the meaning of 'retreat,' marine; through endurance and faith...I will best you." Nikolai, ending the conversation on an intense note, bent his legs at the knee, entering his trademark fighting stance. As for Junpei, he could do little but quiver with anger and disbelief; his sabre soon matched its masters vibrating nature. "You...you insolent fool. You die today." The ringing of the town's clock tower sounded the start of the final battle. As if led by some unknown force, the two men charged at each other simultaneously, each with their weapons extended; it seemed that Nikolai sought to implement his "catching" tactic once again...though, would it prove to be so useful with this last violent exchange? Seconds before the two forces collided, Nikolai whispered under his breath and short prayer; if there was any time God could answer his child, now would have been the best time. "...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me..." The two entities were now inches away, time seemingly slowing with each passing moment. This...this was the climax of the day's battle; this is where all the warriorss strength would count for nothing, and divine providence would count for everything! Five inches...four inces...three inches...two... Ting. "I-...Impossible!" Nikolai grinned. "...he will be our guide even to the end." Against all odds, Nikolai found the tip of Junpei's blade stuck firmly in the tip of his massive hammer; of all the places the blade could have landed, it was here Nikolai had prayed so rigorously for. Though, this small miracle did little to faze Nikolai; he couldn't stop there. With all his might, Nikolai flung his hammer to the left, causing the rapier to rip itself from Junpei's grip. The momentum with which the hammer carried caused Nikolai to spin, bringing Junpei's to his side. The hammer, however, did not stop, and continued to make its way to the side of Junpei's exposed head. "I will deliver you, and you will honor me..." SMASH! The head of Nikolai's mighty weapon connected with the Junpei's cranium miraculously, sending the marine flying towards the Lieutenant and young Vincent. Nikolai could tell by Junpei's expressionless face and listless body that the marine was either unconscious or dead; a wiry man of his stature could do little to brace such an intense impact. With that...Nikolai had won the battle, and the crowd acknowledged the victory with thunderous applause. It was only unfortunate that no one was capable of saving Nikolai from his own fall, his body landing with a thud on the snowy ground. I...I won, Vincent. Do not...fail me... ___ Ah, shi-... With the speed and force at which he was traveling, Thatcher could do little to fix his trajectory; the Zoan-wielding nuisance had successfully dodged the attack, and had unknowingly allowed for the collision of Thatcher with his own attack. The two air-discs met with unrivaled ferocity, causing a concentrated explosion of air that sent Thatcher flying backwards, his body decimating one of the brick-lined shops that were all too common in the village of Sleet Town. Though, this did little to faze Thatcher; he had experienced worse blows in his long naval career. What did catch him by surprise, however, was the limb body of his comrade lying facedown in the snow a few meters away. "Jun...? Ah...shit..." Completely ignoring the battle at hand, Thatcher jogged to the spot where Junpei lay; he placed a bruised hand on his comrade's neck to check for a pulse. Luckily, it seemed that the "oaf" had bested the cocky Ensign, knocking the marine completely unconscious. Shaking his head, Thatcher rose to his feet, pointing towards Vincent. "You fuckers have been quite the pain in my ass, puss! You've even managed to take care of ole' Jun here...well, your friend at least..." Thatcher looked over towards Nikolai, seeing that he was just now struggling to his feet. "Heh...looks like your pal's losing a lot of blood. Though...he's big. It would probably take a lot more to kill that lug, eh, puss?" Thatcher let out a hardy laugh, spinning his right tonfa, gaining another wind disc. "This'll do the trick..." Much like before, Thatcher let the newly-formed disc rocket towards Nikolai; the Lieutenant spared no time to check whether or not his attack would land, for it was infinitely more important that he get Junpei some medical attention. Sure, you fucked up...but you're under my command; if HQ finds out that you were messing with this island, it'll be my ass too. Grabbing Junpei's limp body, he quickly ran to the three Marines that had accompanied him. "Call in for reinforcements; these guys won't last too long. If you're lucky, that big baldie over there'll be dead." Thatcher then darted away towards the coast where three marine vessels were docked: two larger war class ships and a smaller, basic vessel. Calling out to his subordinates one last time, Thatcher bid the soldiers farewell. "Don't fuck it up!" WORDS: 1,415 TAGS: Rise, Retribution, Faith MUSIC: Blinded by Light NOTES: Junpei: Unconscious [/style] CONQUER

made by cirrus

[Lord Bromosalino]

Unknowingly, Vincent had created for himself the opportunity he was looking for. Though he had only dodged out of instinct and a will to survive, his ability to dodge that attack had created a hole in Thatcher’s defense. Well, it had created more than a simple gap. Pushing himself to the side, the two air discs meant to guillotine Vincent had crashed into each other, creating a whirling sphere of air that seemed as if the two attacks exploded, sending both Vincent and Thatcher flying, though Thatcher was hurled, being closer to the attack. Vincent himself was pushed by the attack deeper into the middle of the street, scraping him across the stone road.

With an “Ah, shi-…” the Lieutenant was sent flying into one of the many brick shops, effectively destroying the wall. Barely fazed by the hard wall he had crashed into, much as Junpei was earlier, Thatcher merely walked away from the rubble. Not wanting to give Thatcher a chance to get himself together, Vincent began bounding towards his opponent, only to stop short of him. It seemed that Thatcher was preoccupied with other things, much to Vincent’s annoyance. Looking around to see what was so important that it had put a halt to their battle, Vincent was as surprised, if not more, as Thatcher; their words mirroring each others thoughts.

“Nikolai…ah…damn…”
"Jun...? Ah...shit..."

The cause for such a display of concern from both men had effectively stopped the battle between the two completely. Both Nikolai and Junpei were on the ground. However, Vincent could not see from where he was if Nikolai was still alive, he was in horrible shape. Taking a short jog over to where his fellow Marine officer lay, Thatcher was clearly upset. Probably due to the fact that Thatcher was Junpei’s commander, and knew exactly what Junpei was doing. He was responsible for the ensign, and Thatcher was looking to save his own skin. Pointing towards Vincent, who was already making his way to Nikolai who was struggling to his feet, Thatcher showed his disappointment in the man who was avoiding his attacks and his partner who had bested the unconscious ensign.

"You fuckers have been quite the pain in my ass, puss! You've even managed to take care of ole' Jun here...well, your friend at least...Heh...looks like your pal's losing a lot of blood. Though...he's big. It would probably take a lot more to kill that lug, eh, puss?

With another one of his sneering looks and annoying laughs, Thatcher wound up another attack from his right tonfa. Instantly, Thatcher’s plan had become clear. He meant to take Nikolai down for good with one final attack. Though he had never, ever put his ass on the line for someone else, Vincent knew he couldn’t let this Marine kill Nikolai. He needed the man too much. Taking a smaller form, Vincent’s body transformed from the big, bulking hybrid to a smaller, leaner full jaguar form. Expending all the energy he had left, Vincent darted for Nikolai.

"This'll do the trick..."

As before, in an almost déjà vu like sense, Thatcher launched his attack for the final time before picking up Junpei’s limp body, leaving the rest to the other three Marines.

Making use of his smaller frame and heightened speed, Vincent bounded with great speed towards Nikolai, who looked as if he was about to die on his feet. Though he had not been able to see Thatcher’s attacks before, as he was merely acting out of pure instinct, Vincent’s perception of time slowed as he had heard happened in the most dire of times. Seeing the razor sharp disk cut the air around them, as it made its way towards Nikolai, in a slowed down way, Vincent himself felt slowed down. Try as he might, he could not force his body to move faster than he was already moving.

Damn it! Move…faster…[/i]

With each bound and push of his powerful legs, Vincent was moving closer, though the disk was still closing in fast. Seconds before he reached his huge comrade, Vincent’s body went another transformation, though it was merely a reversion to his original human body with a final push, propelling the young man into Nikolai. As quickly as this perception came upon Vincent, it had disappeared just as quickly. Shaking himself from the snow, Vincent let out a sigh, almost as if his whole body had been holding its breath to see if he would make it in time. Seeing Nikolai sprawled in the snow next to him, coupled with yet another building being destroyed by an air disk that had missed its mark, let Vincent know that he had, in fact, made it in time.

Jumping to his feet, though he felt exhausted, Vincent desperately looked for Thatcher only to see the Marine Lieutenant running away, carrying Junpei over his shoulders.

"Don't fuck it up!"

With a yell, Thatcher was gone, taking a turn towards the docks. In his place, the three remaining Marines began to advance on the duo. Trying to pull Nikolai to his feet, Vincent urged him that they must leave.




[/size]

[Raab]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:450px;] by my will of iron i shall [style=float:left; margin-left:60px; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] [/style][style=float:left; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] Vincent...young Vincent... With the last bit of his remaining strength, Nikolai sat himself up, placing his back on a small mound of dirtied snow only a foot or so away. As Nikolai rose, a large, crimson imprint of his chest sat hot atop the canvas of powdery ice; it served as the man's signature, a testament to the outcome of his first fame-winning battle. Nikolai, utterly pleased with himself (even in his state of extreme pain), looked to his comrade's battle; how was Vincent fairing. Nikolai was relieved to see that the young man was on his feet, though, this wasn't to say Vincent was championing the day. Nikolai strained his eyes so as to better survey the situation; even with his sense-dulling pain, Nikolai could make out a great gash upon Vincent's shoulder; blood dripped down the young man's back, a great crimson stream signifying the Lieutenant's besting of the young warrior. Though, noticing Vincent's confident stance, Nikolai presumed the wound was doing little to faze the young man. This was good; it was eve better than what Nikolai had hoped for. Vincent was proving to be quite the capable warrior, even if he did wield a power still quite foreign to the old blacksmith. What had suddenly concerned Nikolai, however, was the Lieutenant's lack of interest in Vincent; it seemed the marine was fiddling with a body, one that looked all too familiar...ah! Yes, the Ensign. To Nikolai's surprise, the soldier seemed genuinely concerned about his subordinate, even taking the time to check whether or not he was still alive. After making an educated diagnosis, it seemed to Nikolai that the golden-haired Ensign was merely unconscious, though still in a critical condition. It would have been infinitely helpful if Nikolai could actually hear what the Lieutenant was saying. Unfortunately, it seemed that Nikolai's blood loss was finally catching up to him, his senses growing ever weaker with each passing moment. First, Nikolai could no longer feel the cold ground beneath him or the soft wind against his face. Next, it felt as if someone had cupped their hands over the old man's ears, muffling any and all sound. Though, what seemed to always stay intact was Nikolai's vision, and he was grateful for that. This would allow him to witness Vincent's stellar victory over this dog of the Government... It also allowed Nikolai to see the massive blade of wind tearing through the air towards his location. Nikolai, fully aware of his body's limitations, could do little to avoid the Lieutenant's cheap shot...and what a ferocious one it was. Though the violent howl of the air-disc was nothing but a dull roar to the incapacitated old man, he could still see the voraciousness of the rotating blade. What power this man held that he could bend the elements to his will. Still, Nikolai was unafraid of his impending doom, and in fact...seemed to embrace it. Nikolai had accomplished more in the past half hour than he had ever accomplished in his entire thirty-one years. He had sent a message to the people of Ice Nine, that even a normal man could stand up to the might of the White and Blue and emerge victorious, that a normal man could instill fear in the very embodiment of this world's sense of 'justice.' Nikolai would be happy knowing that he managed to send this message to the people of Ice Nine. After all this...Nikolai was ready to secure his place in Heaven. Closing his eyes in content...Nikolai wished to pray one last time before leaving this earth. "Our Father in heaven...hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come...your will...be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread...and...forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us...not into temptation...but deliver us...from-..." Completely oblivious to the going-ons of the world around him, Nikolai felt a great force press against his body, flinging him from the path of the great air-disc. As Nikolai opened his eyes, he could see little more than a mane of fiery-orange hair and a great swathe of black fabric. There, standing above him, was Vincent; he had saved Nikolai from certain demise. ___ "Attention all units! Two hostiles have been spotted in Sleet Town. One is large, bald, with a thick beard and multiple wounds across the chest. The other is slightly smaller, wearing a black jacket, fiery-orange hair." One of Thatcher's henchmen has begun speaking into a small transponder snail not unlike Junpei's own; he had been just broadcasted a warning to all other soldiers on the island, most of them being at the three ships docked at Sleet Town's port. The soldier cleared his throat before he continued. "By order of Lieutenant Thatcher, these men have committed crimes against the World Government: disruption of the peace, civil disobedience, destruction of private property, obstruction of justice, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, assault on naval office-..." Just then, static tore across the soldier's channel; it seemed another signal was attempting to assume control over the transponder's frequency. "Alert! Ensign Junpei has been badly injured. Men mentioned in previous broadcast prime suspects. Warning! Orange-haired man has eaten a Devil Fruit, I repeat a Devil Fruit. It is Zoan-class, Jaguar Model. Proceed with extreme caution." As if by some higher power, fifteen rifle-wieding soldiers rounded the corner to meet their brother's in arms, each wearing heavy fur coats to protect their bodies from Ice Nine's inclement weather. After a quick exchange of salutes, the fifteen soldiers set a knee to the ground, taking aim at the two men described in the alerts: Vincent and Nikolai. The man who had broadcasted the first message seemed to be the presiding officer, since it was he who took the liberty of stepping forward, calling out to the battle-ready Vincent. "There are two ways we can do this. One, you can come quietly, saving yourselves from the wrath of fifteen well-trained rifleman...the other obviously being your brawn against our bullets." The marine chuckled under his breath, thoroughly pleased with his ultimatum. "What's it going to be, gentlemen?" ___ It was now that all responsibility fell on the shoulders of young Vincent. Would he fall to his sense of pride and battle the impending barrage of bullets? Or would he attempt to steal away to a safer location, giving Nikolai a bit of time to recover from his wounds. It was all up to Vincent. It was his time to act. WORDS: 1,102 TAGS: Savior, Broadcast, Reinforcements, Decision MUSIC: - NOTES: - [/style] CONQUER

made by cirrus

[Lord Bromosalino]

"Attention all units! Two hostiles have been spotted in Sleet Town. One is large, bald, with a thick beard and multiple wounds across the chest. The other is slightly smaller, wearing a black jacket, fiery-orange hair."

Speaking into a Den Den Mushi typical of Marines, one of the remaining three Marines left by Thatcher immediately called in for reinforcements. It had seemed that these Marines could scarcely finish their own fights without cowering and having others take on their unfinished tasks. Though to be fully honest, Vincent was beyond relieved to see Thatcher leave. Vincent was not yet ready for a Lieutenant, not yet at least.

Clearing his throat, the self appointed leader of the trio turned his attention to listing a very long list of “crimes” that the duo had managed to commit in the past half hour.

"By order of Lieutenant Thatcher, these men have committed crimes against the World Government: disruption of the peace, civil disobedience, destruction of private property, obstruction of justice, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, assault on naval office-..."

At this point, though he was injured and Nikolai was all but unconscious, Vincent allowed for a devilish grin to make its way across his battle-hardened face. The fiery, young conqueror planned to take on the world, and it had seemed as if he had just taken the first of many steps in that journey. These crimes against the World Government would surely garner him the fame needed for such a Herculean task that Vincent planned to accomplish.

"Alert! Ensign Junpei has been badly injured. Men mentioned in previous broadcast prime suspects. Warning! Orange-haired man has eaten a Devil Fruit, I repeat a Devil Fruit. It is Zoan-class, Jaguar Model. Proceed with extreme caution."

Pushing its way over the initial transponder of the Marine, a new voice rang out across the open air. Junpei was badly injured, of that Vincent already knew. Pity. It would have served Vincent well if this Junpei had met his end at Nikolai’s hand.

However, Vincent had little time to ponder what could have happened; for at that moment, a dozen or so Marines, each armed with rifles, made their way around the corner. Unlike the previous Marines that Vincent and Nikolai had faced, these Marines wore heavy fur coats to protect themselves from the elements. That alone told Vincent that these Marines were not accustomed to the cold, something Vincent had surprisingly quickly overcome, and must have therefore only recently arrived to the island. Kneeling on the cold ground, the rifle wielding Marines took aim at their targets who had committed such ‘atrocious’ crimes. Seemingly the highest ranked Marine there, the same man who had first sent for reinforcements stepped forward with an order.

"There are two ways we can do this. One, you can come quietly, saving yourselves from the wrath of fifteen well-trained rifleman...the other obviously being your brawn against our bullets."

Apparently, every Marine enjoyed taunting their opponents, which in reality was very simple to do when you had your own small platoon at your command. Had they been armed with any other weapon than a firearm, Vincent would have received the man’s challenge with great pleasure. However, as it stood, Vincent and Nikolai, if the man was even still alive, were to far to be able to close the gap in-between; not without being met with a barrage of bullets.

There was but one solution, Vincent would draw them away from Nikolai. Kneeling near Nikolai, Vincent placed an arm on the old man’s shoulder, but said nothing. He knew that Nikolai would understand. There was no need for words now.

"What's it going to be, gentlemen?"

Still chuckling under his breath, the Marine seemed so pleased with himself. Glancing to the left, then to the right, then once more to the left, Vincent scouted the road for his escape route. Raising his arm, the Marine in charge waited for another moment, waiting to see what the young man before him would do.

“Well, wha…After him!

Cutting of the man in the middle of his speech, Vincent took off towards the nearest alley, which was but a few feet away. A volley of bullets pierced the hush of the air and harmlessly hit the stones of the building. With the command given, the fifteen, heavy coated Marines rose and gave chase. To his disappointment, Vincent saw that the original three Marines stayed behind, and were walking towards Nikolai. To make matter’s worse, Vincent could see the Marine yelling into the bewildered snail’s face again. Either warning any of the other Marine’s on the island of the young man’s escape or alerting others that Nikolai was their’s, it was bad news for Vincent.

Running and zig zagging through the many different buildings and side roads, Vincent crashed through a door of another store before crashing through an opposing door, always on the move. If he could just lose these Marine’s, he could get back to Nikolai and hopefully sneak onto a ship that was harbored just in the opposite direction. Hopefully, Nikolai could stay alive that long.

Damn it, Nikolai. You better not die or I’ll drag your ass back from wherever your damn soul goes and kill you myself.[/I]
[/size]

[Raab]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:450px;] by my will of iron i shall [style=float:left; margin-left:60px; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] [/style][style=float:left; background-image:url(http://i498.photobucket.com/albums/rr342/prochainezo/Icons/LORDGENOME/th_lordgenome-006.jpg); border-radius:100%; -moz-border-radius:100%; -webkit-border-radius:100%; height:100px; width:100px; border: 4px solid 657383;] Amidst all the commotion, Nikolai was having trouble holding onto reality, dipping in and out of consciousness as voices swirled about his head. "We have apprehended the large, bearded fellow, though the Zoan-user managed to escape. We've sent the small platoon after him; they should be able to catch him in no time, sir." "krrrrsht ... You idiots! You should have taken the shot when you had the chance. That kid's eaten the Jaguar fruit, not the Snail fruit! You really think those imbeciles will be able to keep up? ... krrrrsht" Nikolai, blinking a few times so that his eyes could adjust to the light, finally began to comprehend what exactly was going on. The large marine, the Lieutenant, had ordered the capture of both Vincent and Nikolai for their "criminal offenses." After the cowardly retreat of said Lieutenant, reinforcements were called in to quickly subdue the trouble-making civilians. However, Vincent was going down without a fight; his dreams would not end here. He had managed to escape, though, without Nikolai... Vincent... Nikolai lay amidst the snow-laden ground completely perplexed by his comrade's actions, wondering why exactly he chose to leave Nikolai behind. As he attempted to sort things out in his mind, the soldier standing over his tattered body began to speak. "Yes, well...we weren't really expecting it sir, he just kind o-..." "krrrsht ... If I wanted an excuse, Sergeant, I would have asked for one. If that orange-haried freak gets away...I'm holding you responsible. ... krrrrsht" That...that voice...the Lieutenant! Ha! So things aren't going so smoothly now, coward! Nikolai attempted to chuckle, though, it was at the expense of several blood-heavy coughs; Nikolai was still in fairly bad shape, and the soldiers didn't seem to particularly mind. "I-...I understand, Lieutenant...expect us within the hour!" "krrrrsht ... Let this be a lesson to you...'Shoot first, ask questions later.' ... krrrsht" This Lieutenant...he lacks honor... With those parting words, the transmission cut off, followed by the sergeant returning the transponder snail to the depths of his coat pocket. Thoroughly irritated by his officer's harsh tone, the soldier began assaulting his subordinates with cruelty of his own. "Well? Bag 'em n' tag 'em, you little shits! We're bringing him back to the fleet...put him on the carrier. He shouldn't give you much trouble in that state of his..." With that order, the Sergeants subordinates began wrestling Nikolai to his feet (which proved to be no easy task). In the end, the Sergeant himself had to join his men, finally hoisting the gargantuan human being to his feet. "Damn...what did your momma' feed you as a kid? No wonder you managed to take out Ensign Junpei..." "Heh, yeah! Not even 'the Hornet' could stand up to this guy, heh." After a few minutes of wrestling with Nikolai's massive body, the three soldiers decided that it was too much of a hassle to carry this man all the way to port on their own. Having finally brought peace back to the small town, the Sergeant managed to secure a polarbear-drawn carriage. With this small luxury, the three soldiers were now able to travel with ease, the polar bear easily carrying Nikolai's girth which sat next to lifeless in the back of the cart. As the small vehicle made its way down the snowy roads of the Ice Nine countryside, the three soldiers seemed to be having a wonderful time, carrying on about the day's events and how they had subdued a "dangerous criminal." "Looks like we're gonna get a nice bonus, dealing with this big lug over here." "Yeah, and maybe I'll get a promotion!" "Heh, not if that orange-haired guy gets away. The Lieutnants gonna' have your ass for that, heh." Feeling a little confident, one of the soldiers decided to hop into the back of the cart where Nikolai lay, bloodied and unnecessarily chained. The man was young, and as many cocky bucks do, decided to senselessly prod Nikolai, tormenting him with the thoughts of treachery. "So...how's it feel gettin' ditched by your pal, baldie?" It was true; while these men were making complete fools of themselves, Nikolai had been thinking about Vincent's decision. The two men were comrades, there was no doubt about that...so why would he leave. Was their friendship a ruse? Or had Vincent planned something? Was there any hint to a greater scheme the young man hoped to hatch? Just then, Nikolai recalled a faint touch to the arm, a show of good faith. Yes! It was just before Vincent had made his great getaway, it was all coming back to Nikolai. That small gesture, though speechless, spoke louder than any sort of signal Nikolai could imagine. Nikolai, looking out towards the three ships docked in the harbor, answered the young soldier. "I know not what you mean by this 'ditched'... though I have faith I will see young Vincent before the day is out, government dog." The sun had set about halfway below the horizon when the soldiers arrived at the carrier; the sky shone a brilliant orange, the clouds outlined in an otherworldly-purple hue. The sergeant barked orders at the recruits on deck, ordering them to scrub the ship down before the night's meal. As for Nikolai, he was brought to the brig, destined to spend however many days, months, or years in the navy's custody for his crimes against the World Government. Though...it seemed the old blacksmith's stay aboard the marine vessel was about to be cut drastically short... WORDS: 925 TAGS: Escape, Treachery, Custody, Faith MUSIC: - NOTES: - [/style] CONQUER

made by cirrus

[Lord Bromosalino]

Getting away from a few lugs armed to the teeth proved to be an easy task, though it took a tad too long for Vincent’s liking. In fact, by the time he had successfully left the small army that was chasing him behind, night began to near. To make matter’s worse, Vincent found himself on the edge of the town. What direction he was facing or the direction the others had taken Nikolai was a complete mystery to Vincent. The swirling clouds that spread, rolled, and covered the sky and effectively hiding any stars that might be hiding behind the dark covers. Choosing a direction would not be so easy.

Should he go to the left, he might find himself walking around the edge of the town needlessly while going to the right would taken him to the ports much faster. However, should he go to the right only to find out that after hours of walking that going to left was the most sensible decision…or if he…or if he…or if.

There was nothing for it. He would have to choose. He had already lingered far too long in one spot, and that alone increased his risk of capture. He would have to make a move sooner or later, and knowing Nikolai’s current state, he preferred that his move be made sooner. In fact, he had to go now.

With a heavy heart and already anticipating that he would make the wrong choice, Vincent set off to the right. Whether that was North, South, East, or West, he had no clue. But, as he already knew, Nikolai needed him. Shame too, really. This trip to the city was supposed to be a simple trip to get off of this god forsaken island.

Thoughts turning over in his head, Vincent suddenly became very aware of two things. One, that his shoulder, which he had all but ignored, suddenly throbbed and ached. It had, in fact, become so numb that he could hardly move it. Whatever damage he thought he had taken, he had severely underestimated it. He would need medical attention. Hopefully, it was nothing serious.

And secondly…Damn, it was cold! Though there was no blizzard this time, the air nipped at Vincent’s skin all the same. And the open wound was certainly not appreciating what mother nature had thrown at them this time. Placing his uninjured hand over his damaged shoulder, Vincent couldn’t help but think that this situation was very similar to his first landing. He had no clue where he was going, what he could possibly expect, and he still hated the cold. To make matters worse, snow began to fall, though it was ironic that it fell softly and quietly, as if anything that had happened today was soft or quiet. Within moments, Vincent, who was by no means wearing clothing suited for this type of weather, was soaked to the bone, quite literally.

Whether minutes, hours, or even days had passed, Vincent was unsure. Every minute came together in one conglomerate, confusing Vincent. All he knew was night had fallen, or had fallen more than once, and he was tired. Even the cold, hard ground looked inviting. And then, it had hit him, and a swell of anger and rage came over him. He had not been paying attention! During the beginning of his wanderings, he had been careful to keep the edge of the town on his left hand side. But whether due to the loss of blood, the sudden drop in adrenaline, or sheer tiredness, Vincent had left the town far behind,. Though he could still see it clearly, Vincent realized that he, at one point, missed a step and continued straight on, missing the natural curve of the town’s border.

Nothing could express the feeling that Vincent had felt in that moment. There was no pain, only numbness. Even the pain of reaching that level of numbness had become numb. Clouds had completely covered the sky, and most, if not all, the lights that illuminated the town were being turned off one by one. In due time, Vincent was left in the dark, without as much as the moon to give him light. Vincent was done.

He had no more strength, and strange as it might have seemed, he did not even have the strength to flop and slump onto the floor. He just stood there, alone in the darkness, rocking back and forth, trying to find his balance. But as night fell farther and farther into the deep, the air had become even colder. Luckily, the snow had stopped falling. That, at least, was a blessing.

How long he stood there, he couldn’t say. But suddenly, he was aware of one thing, one thing that gave him new strength. The sky began to clear! Bursting through as if it had finally been victorious, the moon shone, giving Vincent light. As a beacon is a true blessing for all sailors, Vincent thanked whatever God was up there. He had light, faded as it might be, he had light!

As if the fates were smiling down upon him, Vincent’s good luck had just begun. Something shimmered in the new found light, and sparkled as if they were stars. Yet, they were not. They were on the ground, no…it was the sea! And what had looked like mountains in the distance but a few moments ago had shown themselves to be ships! Ships! If they were keeping Nikolai anywhere, it was there, where Thatcher himself had run off to.

Running across the fresh powder, even Vincent’s shoulder felt renewed, as if he was a new man, awaken from a deep sleep. Making his way across the quiet, frozen plains, Vincent soon reached the edge of the towns, with the docks in clear view. Spotting the three Marine ships was hardly difficult, even in the rum light. Three ships, but which was holding Nikolai?

The small one, it has to be. Please let it be that one.[/I]

The small one seemed both the easiest to board and the easiest to take control of. Besides, the smaller ship was bound to have less Marines on it, making it easier to sneak across from room to room. If that was in fact where his friend was being held, it would be either in the officer’s cabin, probably having him interrogated, or he was being held below decks.

Taking great pains not to be noticed, and even greater pains lest he fall in the watery grave, Vincent reached the side of the ship. The town was asleep, that was good. There was little chance anyone would see him climb aboard, though Vincent doubted any of the citizens of this town had placed any of their hope and trust in the government dogs.

Once on board, Vincent immediately headed to the staircase, hoping to get below decks. However, much to his great annoyance and despair, an old, iron mug had decided that it would put itself directly in Vincent’s path, unbeknownst to him. With a loud Clang![/b], Vincent ran for cover and found it in one of the supply closets. If the Marines on this ship were anything like this town, they would remain asleep. Though, that was serious wishful thinking.

Damn![/I]

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