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

[hatefully]

[ DON'T BE A WUSS WHAT'S A ENERGY BULLET TO THE BACK OR TWO

But does that mean his pace has slowed down enough for Forte to lunge forward in a burst of speed and grab that large shackle spinning slowly and ceaselessly on the other navi's back? And grab it hard, with both hands, the one that had been a buster converted back to normal, with the possibility of leaving a dent or two in the locking mechanism's surface if he could grab on at all.

Because if it does, that's what he's going to try to do, Magicman.

Since plainly shooting Magicman isn't doing the job in bringing the taller navi down. ]

[hypnotherapy]

[ WELL FOR ONE THING IT REALLY HURTS?? EXCUSE, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT

and yes, he's slowed enough that Forte can at least grapple with the locking mechanism; he whirls in a panic as soon as it's touched, purple fire flaring up around his 'hands' (claws, now) as he thrashes at the intruder on his back with no sign of his usual relative composure.

He's injured and someone is trying to break his locks. But fortunately for Forte, he's not running any more. ]

[hatefully]

[ WHAT'S A ENERGY BULLET TO THE BACK OR TWO

Good, stay put in one place for a sec. So he can adjust where he grabbed and push himself up onto it to get a better hold.

Dogged, Forte hangs on the locking mechanism on the other navi's back with an iron grip, refusing to be knocked off by the surge of movement of somebody who clearly very much wants him off that locking mechanism program now.

The purple fire is unpleasant and he's taking damage from the repeated wild bursts of it that's firing back at him, but the most Magicman's swipes with his claws connect with are the cloak's tattered folds, tearing at the cloth, winning several loud ripping sounds, and since. Forte is. on Magicman's back and thus not that easy to reach when panicking. Forte grins, excited, gloating. ]

Now, what do we— [ Ah yes, the delightful sound of dark energy begining to charge up. you know. from right behind Magicman. It'll take a few seconds. ] —have here?

[ What's behind this lock and is it gonna be fun to fight when he cracks it open. ]

[hypnotherapy]

[ His movements become more erratic, even though he should probably at least try to calm down, but he's injured and someone is targeting something he really would rather people leave alone and so isn't thinking very well. He's obviously trying to get Forte off his back.

The next noise that comes out of his mouth as he swipes and flares, purple fire rippling in patterns around his body, can't really be counted as something that would classify as a 'normal' noise. It's a distorted, panicked shriek that dips into somewhere between 'grating' and 'genuinely painful'.

As Forte keeps tugging on that lock, there's a shimmer; some kind of scar pattern that flickers in and out of visibility, an oddly pretty thing that looks almost like an abstract butterfly. ]

i don't know how this turned into some kind of ridiculous piggyback fight BUT SOMEHOW IT DID

[hatefully]

[ alwklmq since Forte's head is still ringing from getting slammed into that boulder, the unnatural, shrill shriek feel like it's drilling straight into his skull and he isn't amused by it.

It reminds him of a virus, grating and mindless.

Eyes squinting against the wild flashes of purple fire burning and flaring around (which are chipping away at his HP but too slowly and unevenly to make Forte let go like Magicman wants him to) under the shadow of his helmet and still not allowing himself to be dislodged from Magicman's back, Forte spots that shimmer.

And without a moment of hesitation, he releases a hand and slams that hand back down where he thinks it is and detonates the dark energy he had charged up, right into the lock, right into the vague outline of the scar pattern on it. ]

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. ]