*bbztt* "I… I tol-"

*bzt* "Screw the odds, what the hell was that!?"

*bt* "6… 10… The fucking output on this guy is straining my charts! I think we have to start accepting we have an actual ghost on our hands! We need-"

*zzzt* "Plans change Beth, what matters is we are still here. Meme, I need you pulling double duty, keep those stands distracted. Nie, rush your takedowns and get on that field ASAP. Florchette, same deal. Leave your sector to Meme and back Nie up. We need as much as we can on securing Saladar before he escapes. Everyone else, keep to the original plan. Smash, grab, and clear this pit. You all might be in a bit of shock right now, but that's fine. Don't let one heavy display dissuade you from why we're here. We knew things were going to go haywire anyway, that's why we have contingencies. And I feel like we are far from done with this shake up, so be ready to adjust. We are not leaving this place until this cult is in chains."

*bt* "...I'm keeping the red line on standby."

*zzzt* "Huh... Why are all of my children so pessimistic? And her name is- *zzzssssshhhhhtt*."

The clarity of post adrenaline surge. The barely tapped reserve feeling the relief of a metaphysical exhale. The numb feeling of all eyes looking down on him. The faint whispers between judging harsh and failing to hold. As they saw the spark of their chosen deity in him, for all that half-truth was worth. He'd shown too much to not be outed somehow, but didn't really care. Half his face was already wanted twice over, so showing off to the crowds wasn't going to shatter any misconceptions about him.

From the League already in place at least.

All they were shown was a wildcard forcing its way into the scene, ruining yet aiding in their endeavor by flattening the playing field a little. And making sure the whole reason they both came here was brought to bear in totality. Because who wouldn't want to solidify their power by reviving their dead god.

"Why… do you not make your claim?"

'But of course he's a fucking stickler.'

The awe in the aged leader's glare was waning to confusion smothered ire. The faint current of the threads already within him rushing to a tempo uncertain. And the grip of that horned staff flexing that tune throughout. He was not just corrupted, he had a base control. And enough will to see it all under him.

"You… You are not one of us!"

Accusatory eyes shadowed by that damn false visage turned up on him. The honor guard tensing back from their own consternations. Nearly snarling at the threat imposed by simply existing too close to them. Their eyes bearing that same accusation, yet also a slit focus already saying enough of their oh-so-blessed mental states. Arms practically fused to their plate shields, power seemingly pushed through them more than the other literal slapdash makes. Not good signage.

"But!"

That ire melted, and reeled in that accusation.

"But you offer this boon as one touched by Rage. One bearing the marks and strength only seen on those able to withstand. Those that have survived taking on such burdens. You know not your purpose… And yet know your place. And so give in honor that which you are unworthy of."

'Sure, let's go with that fucking awful sentiment. Though…'

Seth canted his head to the better truth he could lay out.

"Actually… I know that you'll be needing it more than I will. Because your great reclamation ain't over yet."

Seth took steps back like the sand had becoming his stage. A showman taking to the full sunlight, upstaging the one trying for its artificial means ever so dastardly. As that assuaged accusation rounded back up.

"All these people! All these faithful! They all come out here just for this?! Just to watch a bunch of idiots squabble over trinkets that were never theirs!"

That ire rose, spread out wherever Seth laid his gaze. Masked faces both metal and mache having their judgments validated. Their whispers justified. A good thing to have, because now they were really listening.

"I mean, this wasn't even the main event! You've still got so much more hidden away! And so many more fighters just waiting to let loose! To try and make their own claim!"

There it was, the doubt. Growing condemnation turned confusion again. There were plenty more pieces out there, plenty of those who wanted some. Wanted more. But this wasn't some low stakes free for all. The masses knew this was too important, that they weren't strong enough and this wasn't their means of showing faith. They knew of his works, so work was an equal trade for his blessing. So who was left?

*bt* "How the fucking hell?"

*bbztt* "Shit! Are we blown?"

Full robes that had gathered together a little too tightly. Stock still but oh so very animated. Those masks made it easy but their manner made them stand outs for the brief moments they broke character at the turn around accusation. And confirmed better by the mean mug still clutching his chest on the ground.

"They'd like a say, wouldn't they?! A more thorough rebuttal to your challenge!"

Seth's ever growing smirk returned to the real stage being ignored. To that wrinkled old target being focused on to a detriment. Implications whipping his gaze from the stands to Seth and back. Needing maybe just one last push to get that true result going.

"They came to see this show for themselves after all! Had to sit through you decrying their entire world! And yet kept their calm even as their own champion fell! So I'd say they deserve to compete! To have a chance! The opportunity to cry out that rebuttal from on low…! And from oh so very high."

*bzt* "Co! What are you-" *bbzzzzz*

That gaze lost the sway of that smirk, followed those words to the stands. To the readied stances squirming in amidst the confused masses. All the way up to the shadow standing up from their hiding place along that shading rim. The sun at her back but all this hidden world in her shadow. To demand that say of their peace.

"I'd say it's the League's turn to have a go!! So what do you say!?!"

*zzzt* "ALL TEAMS ENGAGE!!!"

Cloth and metal, mask and disguise! All pretense and tension obliterated for the truth below it all. For the colors, the marks, the capes, the gradation. And for that rebuttal to decimate all before it!

Beams and fist shot to the air! Crashing out of their hides to make all presence irrefutable! Ice raking front row seats in a single forcing of a hand. Dazzling kaleidoscopes blurring whole sections through its mesmerizing ministrations. A million flashbangs turned air and sight to detriments and swallowing the sky. And the so long awaited breaking came for those that thought him worthy of worship!

Teams finding set targets and talking them amid the turmoil. Disarming and disarmoring them to never again claim what was never theirs! A hulk of a man ripping up and throwing a whole row to the arena floor below, before any could round on the one casting mass tinnitus. Barriers of rock and water and less invulnerable energy circled and squared off screaming throngs. Blocked them from the rampage crashing about, coming for all those bearing a sliver of power left over. Children and civilians caught in the crossfire shielded away, as those waves crashed to the only acceptable place to have this fight.

The sands beat once again with the falls of heavies and hammer downs. Metal wrapping around already dilapidated bodies, speed blurs scooped up those too slow on the draw. And hits to the face took down those not yet made to regret partaking of this ritual. Arrests and restraints, plant vines and practiced strikes. Surprise taking the toll it was due, yet finding those unwilling to accept defeat after defeat.

Hits flared back, slivers and charms rung for the might they allowed. Hits taken and hits given back. Metal broken and holds fought in wrathful display. Honor guard sallying forth to crush all that dared.

A new brawl begun where a full stop had been. Yet all of it just as expected, planned out and set off. Because that was the roll given to those joining the fray, to secure the arena and all it contained. Sequester away those noncombatant, incapacitate those bearing ill power, and put down this cult in one fell choreographed swoop! Which was the job of the four or five screaming across that embattled sand. To secure the hoard and the ringleader in this one mass covered shot!

But Seth was having a say about that.

A hand reaching, flying to lay upon armor they'd already lost the right to, found instead the tip of a threaded up running shoe. As it ran down that extended arm and bashed the over eager flyer back to sidelines. And shook that stage for good measure! Full visor and rubberized metal spared the worst, but her spiraling form still whipped through her compatriots like trajectory was only ever a 2D plain. That gap already filling back in, as the playing field made itself fully know. They could still charge straight down the middle of it. But there was a goalie between them and the easy win.

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A fist of natural rock shot for the smirk still blaring across Seth's face, as he scathed his new wooden stand taken to char. Finding only full stop in a hand over wrought and bound to fling out. Whipping its thrower sideways as that foot kicked the altar laden back, right into the wrinkled blowhard that still hid away the rest. But now had a reason to bare it all to the world. Just needed the time now given in spades.

A kevlar equivalent boot tried to dare set foot upon his stage, two of a kind flanking him to get at the one now left in the lurch and about to drown in sacred metal. But Seth didn't give much of a shit about the hardwood. It cracked to splinters as the other shoe launched him about to one side, aligning both fibrous extensions of himself at the shoulder of a green suited flurry of leaves that thought it could blow past. Getting blow away instead as the striker fired on another double kick howitzer pressed to him.

Equal and opposite reaction flinging both away. One to the wall over brawling heads, the other to the flank thinking itself able to overwhelm. As Seth's body twisted about the recoil and threw all that momentum into their shark finned face. Half visor crinkling as replaceable teeth splayed around his fist, snoot booped violently and dissuasion made detrimental as they too were made to fly. As the need to hurry up the old zealot became all the more demanding.

His shoulder buried in the pile narrowly about to fall on him, hands unready for the weight he was trying to lift or just drag along. Needing just a push for the shutter door behind him so he could ramp down to the dark dank he came from. Because that was where he was going!

Seth scathed another rut into the wood, snatched that overfilled altar by the sides and by the one trying to bear it unworthy, and whipped it and him up to the angle it would fly. Before kicking the both of them off to curl into the darkness. Concrete scraping away around him, as that living stone made a break for the wall. And only found their double armored foot caught mid dive.

Rubbery metal below stone skin, weight and power grip trying to burden down one long refusing to be! As he made all that weight and attempt to get around him into whiplash. The other hand adjoining, shin taken as handle, wall crack off, and rock bottom the only place this guy was going! As he was flung back into the sand, shedding shrapnel stones as they rumbled apart. So Seth could stand alone upon his stage. Allowing all those wishing to have a go their shot!

Because there were plenty of takers left.

That leafy wind tried again, spring boarding from the hole in the wall he'd been slammed into. A slicing green trail around equally green armor threatening to cut him sustainably, as a staff vaulted its wielder up to the already full limelight. A literally wreathed arm swung high, an overly adorned log swept low, and both were on a collision course neither saw coming. As those slicing fronds were parried at the forearm, that pole was stamped into the woodwork, and the wind soared only slightly off course. As Seth rounded, whipped a hand and wrapped a hand around his shoulder, and whipped him into the clashing techno monk stuck beside him! Cuts still rang up his arm, but healing was just expected here, worth the conking of more helmeted heads together that even this new modernity couldn't alleviate.

Sizzling blood aggrandized, haloed two down and more on the advance. Some faster than necessary, but easier to catch out. Since they had a charge up time. A yellow pulse of what felt like raw sunlight blasted at him from that sun well peeking out, beaming a burn where he was before he saw the strobing from the cheapest of seats. Wood charred like a magnifying glass just made an attempt on his life, before a swath of colors made their own. That shark lunging through the fried air with fresh teeth and kinda unfitting webbed claws. While a metal menagerie swiped from the other side ahead of a set of green fire fists.

Teeth went straight for his sun turned shoulder, only to get back handed in the snout again. Visor all but flying off loose as Seth prepped to swipe through the collection of trash someone was calling cover. Maglev would have been ashamed, if he could give a fuck. Sparks tore as his laden hand scattered a fractured piece of stolen corrugated wall and a mangled trashcan, so that the green fury behind it could see what folly it was. And see Seth's back as he let that momentum swing him in place and to whip back round with a foot aimed right at this sickly colored guy's side. Slamming him into the wall, and sending the shutter door careening down from the shock of it.

Another colored flame roared out from the brawl as Seth slowed to take it all in again. Her magenta wreathed elbow nearly burning some poor guy with just a piece of copper around his. A nubby club whammed out as well to make a bee line of their own, before getting sideswiped and dragged back by an honor guard already beaten to hell. The metal trash slinger even tried to add himself in the flesh, yet only succeeding in losing holds already stacking up too high for his willpower. The mere presence of a threat dragging fighters from the floor, devolving this one sided put down into a real test of-

*zzzt* "Argenta, Casúr, Cross Off, stay on the small fry!! This one is mine!"

That ready smirk drew back to only grin as it turned up to the one playing commander. A static fizz and encrypted hardware not good enough to keep him out of the know with that shark's visor in his hand. They still had to use electricity to hear their radios after all, even if they used lasers to transmit. And he wasn't shy about making that fact clear, even if this cult seemed incapable of managing that much control.

So he watched that risen shadow descend to the staired seating, not even hesitating as she stepped off the roof, passed corralled onlookers and active arrests, ignored struggles and compatriots alike. Like she had faith in everyone she brought her. Stomping all the way over the lip of this growing battlefield, like gravity was just something you walked off. A display just demanding to be matched, as Seth stepped of the ripped up stage to his own semi titanism.

Her suit was just like that Erdwut wannabe Callah's, like a lot of the newfangled armors that battled around them. Servo articulation enhancing rather unnecessarily, some weird rubberized metal that took the blows and kept its shape, helmeted up in no doubt technological centralization. There was power all over her only slightly beefed up figure, its angles contoured to never get in the way. But still with enough hardness to say just punching at it was liable to get your hand broken and your teeth kicked in. Though... he wasn't Ohm. And this lady wasn't either. Seth didn't need to feel metaphysically the contempt coming off that streamlined visor. It was all in the slow step they both took to show they were going to have it out right here.

Wild card to commander.

Accelerating steps leaned into in mirror. The fists readying in unison as the brawl surrounding seemed to part all for them. The charging of fibers to let loose, the winding of servos to do all the same! The crunching of sand with every mounting gait! Forcing all to see and all to know the need in both their advances! To show just what this really was! A fight for titans that no one should interfere in! A battle only the heaviest of hitters could withstand and survive! Lest they be shattered in the almighty clash coming to its inevitable-

*BOOOOOOOOOM*

Armor bunched its galvanized give! Flesh so threaded it reacted like iron! Air sundered to cracking halo! Sand made to spike as force took sway! And this arena shaken to its hateful core! As the first of many rang in the main event!

Recoil both, in lurching bearings and steadfast being, taken in stride and made inertia to play with. Sliding back on a foot each and bringing spring tension to bear. To strike once more! Trailing hard pack and twisting wide, to clash the other fist together and make this a brawl all its own! Sending another crack through the air and loosing the barrage that was bound up in it!

Fists pounding out to meet their opposing forces. Catching sand in the in-between and sparking it alight. Small motes beaten to prominence in the cacophony of their duel, haloing the clash after clash. Spiraling to extinguish as both were forced back. As both reloaded up on momentum used up. As both showed their chops in this... too similar a dance.

The cult was his, so its style would be similar if not degraded to feral. So the League would learn its better half and beat them at their own game. Or worse, this was Alex come to haunt him and just make this very awkward. But their suit wasn't red in the slightest, so maybe fear only held sway in the possibility of influence. Either way...

'Get your own style lady!!'

Both rammed back in, legs tearing out to crash shins together and eat away all each other's inertia. Stopping both dead in more ringing buffet. Forcing the drawn down and drop forward for all that was left. So they could see whose knee caps were stronger. Stomping hard, shooting the other leg, armor less peeving but nerves well accustomed. Worth the pain so they could both actually strike at each other in less mutual fashion.

Right up on her, Seth slammed a fist into her side, as her own struck shoulder and at least one disparity to push this along came to fruition. The armor was heavy, pressing for release and adding more to each swing. It was just like his with less containment and more give. And no counterweight to manage. So he just had to unbalance her and it all would topple over.

The recoiled shoulder fought and matched the next swing, clashing in close quarters to send it back. And let the other fist whip it away for no hope of a rebuttal. Forcing her stance wide and obtuse, giving him all the potential to strike down as the way cleared. Strike a chest plate off kilter and send her spiraling out into lurch. One advantage was all he would need, all he could ever ask for so no one was in the way. And yet he was denied that.

In fire!

A roar, internal, whooshing to jet from that sent away arm. Thought streamlining turning out to be hollow and condensing. And spewing fire to rocket back down with all the potential he thought was his. To slam it all back in his face!

Footing disappeared and darkness tried again to take away what it couldn't have. Pain forcing through the underestimation, recoil the all over headache, and a knee his sternum! Another whooshing burst as it crashed into more ready stance, sending him back with just a rib or two yelping at the sudden rocket assisted strike combo. A stumbling reorientation and lashing back to mundane senses, as she just kept coming.

A wide arc firing off, flames shooting nearly nitrous hot as she kicked for a kidney. Only finding catching guard and weight added to her go round. Bunching and digging ruts into the sand. Till the other foot shot up to free its twin. Scouring Seth's face as he whipped back, letting her spin herself prone for all he cared! And yet only gave her more room to rumble round and accelerate from!

Sand scorched as she rocketed right back at him head first. Into as much preparation as a preheated Seth could throw in. Shoulders collided, unstoppable meeting immovable. More ruts dug into sand abused. But thrust could cut off all it wanted, she was in his grasp now! So all that momentum was his to thrown about and suplex!

His spine protested, his knees cried, but she was getting slammed to Earth one way of the other! Armor bounced as jets stopped their firing, air forced out but concussion mitigated. As a cacophony of over stressed vertebra swung around and kicked off to take all present advantage and make that concussion a reality. By kicking her in the face!

The commander forced herself back upright right on time for a shoe to the visor. Cushions taking the sting out no doubt, but her neck feeling the sudden upward vector. Snapping her to her feet and ripe for the hook of that helmeted cheek. Rubber refused to let impact get the better of her, footing tearing back to prominence he seemed to lack. Armor too tough to just break through, and those seemingly all over rockets needing too much attention. As they fired off again!

Scathing his shirt with soot as he dodged back, taking step by step in lock. Letting her fire again and lurch her own balance away. And leave her shoulder wide open and all the artificial inertia loose to go around on his terms. Hooking an arm under her thrown punch, letting heat try and dissuade futile. Dragging her airborne and letting shot get put back! Swinging around and adding on to let fly catawampus this JATO rip off!

Flat spinning away as he let go, let her retake the distance they both needed to have. To reevaluate this titanic struggle. Because... this was threatening to be too much fun to leave well enough alone.

Jets realigned and killed the spin, righted angles as she let sand and drag force decelerate her heavy. Coming to a dead stop back at the wall she stepped off of. Contempt rising back up through smoky exhaust. So very ready to make this obvious round a regret he wouldn't live down.

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