oh boy here we go

[hypnotherapy]

What Magicman considers fun and what other people consider fun tend to only overlap sometimes. Not many navis (at least, not many surface navis...probably) would find being outnumbered by a lot of hostile navis who wanted to take them apart for parts more of an interesting challenge than a terrifying situation.

Magicman lacks this kind of sensible barrier.

"Fifteen on one? That means I'm facing a gang, probably," he murmurs. If he'd had a visible mouth at that moment, he would have grinned.

"Good odds," he adds, before stabbing the closest one right through the chest and hurling them into their compatriot. After that, the whole situation devolves quite quickly into everyone hitting everyone else. Though he gets hit more than a few times, he's enjoying what he might couch as 'a brisk workout' despite his (admittedly fairly mild) injuries.

Some unsettling aura approaching, incredibly similar to something he's sensed before, makes him pause mid-slash. He absently hops back as his opponent tries to stab him and just as absently parries the strike.

He can't quite make out what that is. It worries him.

Comments

IN BETWEEN THE SHONEN ANIME FIGHTS...THERE IS THIS

[hypnotherapy]

[ The lock - well, amazingly, it's blown open rather than blown apart, but it's rather damaged all the same. It's a testament to its creator's programmed-in failsafes that it's not instantly vaporised, though it's a little unfortunate that due to these same failsafes Magicman receives a good deal of that energy himself. It results in another shrieking, pained cry as he finally gives up on thrashing and curls in on himself instead.

All in all, it's an unpleasant experience. The pain is unbearable at first and then siphons off in short order as what the lock had been keeping in grows in violently; the force should be enough to knock Forte off. And it would be a good idea not to be touching his back, at this point.

They're 'wings', of a sort, to match the scar's patterns; more reminiscent of Gospel's frill than anything else, pulsing with an unpleasant, ugly reddish colour. Forte's senses will register that this is something that is more or less pure virus material; sensory organs that are oddly pretty and also completely wrong.

He's not quite a virus; the part of him that states he's a navi is loud and clear. But it battles, now, with the other part he'd rather keep hidden; and that signal is now exposed.

He gets to his feet, flinching as the 'wings' on his back pulse, drawing in data to heal his significant injuries. ]

Leave me alone. [ He takes off with impressive speed considering his condition; he seems to be fighting his own healing factor. ]

SO THERE IT IS amazing

[hatefully]

[ Magicman shrieks. But the shrill, grating sound is lost to Forte's hearing amongst the lock blowing open, the other navi curling inward and the blur of the 'wings' jutting up from his back to slam straight into Forte in the same breath, before he has the time to activate the Life Aura to shield himself from either the force, the recoil from his own close-range attack of dark attack, or the blows from the wings. Unfortunately, this means no time to appreciate the level of craftsmanship behind the lock program's creation.

So. Definitively getting flung really really hard off Magicman's back and into the canyon wall. There's a shout, pained. (It's short and gritted out.)

Crack.

He takes a few seconds to recollect himself, stubbornly peeling himself out of the crater in the canyon wall. Bits of rock tumble off the cloak. A shoulder guard, cracked. Headache hurts like hell, body hurts, burn marks galore that were slowly starting to close up and heal, audio receptors are banged up. Whatever. Bloodlust, want for the fight to continue overrides them all.

Then Forte re-focuses on Magicman; registers what he'd gotten smacked off with, how it rings with the same sore discord he'd kept picking up on but couldn't determine what it was. ]

So that's it. [ The puzzle clicks. The lock program. The durability. The uneven edges to the two things stretching out from the other navi's back, the clumping together mass of pure red-wrong-unfiltered-pulsing material, it's akin to nothing but bugfrags and at the thought, the Gospel virus entwined with his own system stirs. He's yet to call on it for its power, so it been running dormant under the surface. He and it exist together, without friction; from just an initial impression, it seems Magicman isn't so lucky. The energy signal he gives off conflicts, struggling with the viral signal. How pitiful.

It must be why the lock was there.

... It was strange, however. What kind of surface navi would be merged with a virus, if it clearly didn't like the virus being a part of it? Even it granted him power? ?

???

He floats back slightly, braces a foot against the wall. A Darkness Overload forms in a hand. Simple, to-the-point: ]

No.

[ And he's right off after him. Let a new actual challenge on the battlefield slip through his fingers? Please. ]

[hypnotherapy]

[ Forte's impressions are halfway right and halfway wrong. He fights continuously against what he sees as the part of him that people would be terrified of, but it's part of him regardless. Intertwined in perfect balance.

As he increases his speed, falling into familiar patterns, that much becomes clearer; the signals stop fighting each other so much to hint at what the exact nature of his existence is, a seamless merge of two things that shouldn't exist perfectly together.

As he accelerates, his 'wings' pulse greedily, taking in data from the surrounding environment as his control over his 'healing' slips. He reaffirms it in short order, but the fact is that he's still fighting what could arguably be called his natural instincts.

Annoyingly, his speed has increased again, due to his healed injuries. ]

[hatefully]

[ Not that Forte has much way of confirming his impressions mid-battle as right or wrong; the signals aren't conflicting as fiercely as they before to his senses. At the same time, the wings' sucking in data didn't seem deliberate.

Speaking of which. The navi's wounds were closing. Tch. Wonderful!

But he had fought other navis with healing factors (and the weaklings who had rely on their humans for Recovery chips) before, even if they hadn't been virus-based, and came out on top.

He puts on speed too, determined to not let his quarry outpace him. They've both gone straight for the skies and left the narrow slots of the canyons behind them in a matter of seconds. More room to maneuver.

Forte lobs two crackling dark spheres at Magicman's form in quick succession. ]

[hypnotherapy]

[ Magicman takes one sphere right in the back while dodging the other; it knocks him out of focus again and sends him flying, and he hits the ground hard and only partially manages to roll with it. It doesn't stop him from scrambling away as fast as possible, claws gouging marks in the ground as he continues to retreat. He's 'bleeding' now, particles rising as his damage increases again, even as his wings pulse and lengthen, taking in all that free energy.

A fact: viruses swarm to other viruses. What could possibly be called 'cannibalism' comes easily to them. But...

This is a bit different then that. Undernet viruses surface from their hiding places (if Forte pays attention, Magicman's signal has changed to a different wavelength, synchronising with the viruses as they pop out) and begin to swarm, forming some kind of barrier between him and Forte.

They don't attack, but they're mobile, following the other navi as he continues to run ahead. ]

[hatefully]

[ Forte slams the ground behind Magicman when he hits the ground with a vicious burst of busterfire, hoping to keep him pinned to a lower position; he misses, Magicman's recovery too fast for him to track before the navi stumbling back up and out of range again, into the air again. Forte scowls. He would prefer to catch Magicman before he reaches a server entrance and logs out, making the task of catching him all the more difficult.

They're nearing the internet city and odds are good there's one of them there.

Maybe if he ripped off the navi's 'wings' first...

In combat, all of Forte's senses are primed to the ready (except his hearing, mostly done to him needing to reset the damaged receptors) and the change in wavelength makes him first think, wary, attack? then his attention is diverted to alerts on his radar as more, weaker energy signatures come crawling up towards them, amassing.

The resulting floating virus blockage earns a faint laugh as he swerves around a large, geometric outcropping of rock: hey, Magicman he sure did just ping you off a message. ]

A puny display... !

[ Let's try blasting it.

STILL STUBBORNLY TRYING TO CLOSE THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM not having that much success but still putting on speed. ]