hey. i had an awful idea rusty. im sorry

  "Stop right there. I'd rather not have to make a mess," Remnio cooed, having found his opportunity with the older man away from the crowds of the evening- where he would only be under his own blood-red eyes. He was seeking a bit of a thrill tonight, and now that he'd found it, his token smirk seemed all the more cruel with his scar, like some half-Cheshire cat, fangs and all. He'd decided to leave some space between them for the moment- two arm's lengths. 

  "Hey there, sir Johnson. John... son... ah. Just like Smithson, right? You look just like him. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? For better, or for worse." He idly glanced over his shoulder, as if searching for any possible interference. Once he seemed satisfied, he deftly produced a butterfly knife from his sleeve, and had it primed in the same movement. He didn't point it at the man, though. Not yet, at least. Remnio idly twirled the black blade about in his good hand while he spoke, years of practice keeping him from cutting his own fingers off.  "I don't know if you know this, but... I hear he's taken to inviting women into his own home. Simple ones. And despite being married, yes?"

  Maybe it was wrong to take it out on the man's father- but.. he'd already come this far. He took one step closer, just to jab the knife at him- or the air before him. It was clamped shut, for the moment. Remnio murmured, "I should know. My darling wife was not born royalty like me. She's far too humble to imagine having a kingdom's army at her disposal." 

  Despite the situation being painted, he did not once show any anger, nor sorrow in his face or voice. Though, he flipped the blade back open, and tapped the flat side against his chin. "I wonder... what I should do to repay him for treating my wife to such a lovely night. Any suggestions?"

  He began to hum as he thought- for a moment. Remnio took another step closer, folding his blade back into his hands, and said, "I think I do know... what I should do for the man who raised him like this... I'm sure you can tell, but... I'm not scared of a bit of... cutting pain."

  At that, he actually let out a chuckle.

  "That is... the cutting pain of loss. What's your game of choice?"

  When he raised his hand again, he held... an innocuous deck of playing cards. The Joker's face stared back at Johnson. He simply could not stop grinning now, even as he said, "I'm not that scary to you- am I? My darling wife was quite impressed by the warm reception and dinner. Come on. Any game, any wager. I'll deal." 

  And only then did he seem to realize something. "Oh. You didn't think I was armed, did you? You must be seeing things."

  Now that got a round of laughter from the illusionist prince. 

---

here u go,,,, 

"Y'all de same aren't ya?" Roswell spat. The thief walked lightly on the tips of his feet. He held his kram, a long curved dagger, loosely in his left hand while his eye was fixated on the dhampir hybride. "De ones who are born with a silver spoon in der mouths, " he continued. As if he wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth himself. Roswell snorted. Tightened his grip on the kram's handle. "Yer just, lucky, " Roswell said. Oh someone is jealous. "Rich lucky and powerful, " Roswell aimed his blade at Remnio with a frown. "Can't imagine 'ow borin' yisser life is, " he said softer now almost with a growl. A cold tingle went down his spine and even when all is "fighting" instincts yelled: 'no', Roswell still quickly glanced over his shoulder. The street he cornered the high prince in was gone. Gone!?  Cold sweat made his hands and back dampy, how could it be gone and be replaced by this? A forest? Or a park?  Confused Roswell look at his feet. His worn boots no longer stood on cobblestone street. Plants and mud. Undergrowth that tugged the edges of his pants, he even heard birds. Birds! Whatever happens they surely weren't in Drakenburg anymore. Roswell instinctively backed up a few paces, still holding his kram tight in his hand. Roswell felt dazed. No longer remembering the reason why he wanted to fight this man in the first place. Roswell laughed. Why he wanted to fight at all, Roswell wasn't the type to fight. Especially not bigger targets then maybe an occasional rat that nibbled on the old leather of his shoes. Confused he looked up Remnio. Almost dropping his weapon while doing so. "Stop this," he barked. Pressing a hand against is head, as if he could block out the Prince's powers. "If dis is about de wallet oi snatched earlier, foine, it was me," Roswell said with a huff. "Let dis be a lesson for both of us, " bold words for a 52-year-old mortal thief with no stamina and a badly sharped dagger, verses a young high powerful prince, "don't leave yer moneybag hanging on yer belt, they are easy to snatch! Now let me go!" 

"After him!"

Amore watches from above as the man in the heavy coat runs away from the people he just stole from. The man takes a hard turn and hid. The people following him ran past his hiding spot and as soon as he no longer could see them, he runs away from his hiding spot. Amore follows him, flying overhead with his bow ready and out. As precise as he could, he shoots in front of the man, just enough to stop him from running any further. For extra precautions, Amore calls upon a wall of thorns to block out any exit the man could think off.

He drops to the ground, arrow aimed at Roswell but only to scare him. "D-drop the bag!" He said, trying to sound intimidating but failing badly. Roswell raises an eyebrow and slowly drops the bag. Small bits of coins drops to the ground. "Oh.. uhh, okay," Amore, slowly puts down his bow but only a bit, "Put your hands where I can see them! Don't you do anything stupid!" Roswell does as he is told but doing it slowly. Amore couldn't see it but the man was planning his escape route, thinking of something to get Amore's guard down enough for him to snatch back the bag of gold and stall the pink hero enough.

"Oi'm unarm'd," he said, not suspicious at all. Amore eyes him carefully, "I... I don't believe you!" Roswell convinced him even more, playing a poor soul who knew no better, tugging Amore's strings enough that Amore put away his bow and approached him carefully to tie him up for safety reasons. As soon as Amore came close, Roswell drops his hands and takes out his dagger, aiming to slash Amore. Surprised by the sudden attack, Amore dodges to the side but was too slow and got his arms hit. Small bits of the thorns crumble down as Amore loses his focus and Roswell takes the small gate in time to snatch the bag, kicks Amore to the ground for extra time and jumps over the thorns.

"Oh Arceus-" Amore gets up as quick as he could and shoots an arrow at the man running. It misses. He shoots another 2 arrows, one that was able to graze Roswell and another that got stuck in his coat. But the man was fast, too fast for Amore to keep up without a headstart. In a matter of seconds, he was out of sight and Amore was beat from the fight. He's not used to using his newfound powers and having to play "hero" as well.

He opens up his compact computer shaped like a rose. A small beeping light runs through the map. He sighs and puts it back on his cape. If he's lucky enough, he might be able to catch the thief before he realises one of his arrows had a tracking tip.

---

i'll uhhh maybe write something for np later sfdkjdf

Rasseler looked beyond at the small pink ferret, his bright glowing eyes and toothy grin making him seem more of a ruthless demon than he is. He stood at a whopping 6 feet or more, and his heavy armored claws clinked and dangled as his long cheek fur would sway in the sour breeze. The little cupid turned and looked up at him, with whatever was in his hands, Rass' scorpion tail flinched as he was confused with the little man's attire and the bright pinks of his clothes and hair, and his golden bow that was about half the size of the boy's body. Rass clenched his fist, then suddenly reached to violently grab Amore's left arm, raising him up about 4 feet above the ground. The lights on Rass' shoes flickered as his smile still lingered with his pitch-black teeth which protruded from his mouth. The cupid panicked and tried to pry the dog's metal claws from around his arm, and Rasseler only snickered.

"Zee fuck kind of Halloveen costume is you vearing, boy? Zist ain't no party, isn't it?" he seemed very intrigued and shook the boy side to side like a plastic bag with a goldfish inside. Some of the boy's arrows fell out of its quiver, the hard metal spears would clash on the concrete making loud tinkering sounds. Amore's face looked terrified, especially as he hasn't seen anything like what Rasseler was before, and he was quite muscular, too. His arm throbbed as the dog's tightening grip only got tighter, and his metal makeshift claws didn't help as they would only pierce into his flesh. Why were they so damn sharp? It didn't help with Amore's terror as he had just noticed Rass' toxic scorpion tail.

"Vhat do ve have here..?" Rasseler's voice deepened as he would slide out one of Amore's cupid arrows. He held it out in front of him, still holding Amore up in the air. He took the arrow and sniffed it, then bit down on the golden part of it, his teeth clanking as he would try to chew on it. Amore gasped, then out of spite he swung and bent his legs, kicking out and crushing his heeled boots onto Rasseler's muzzle. Rasseler roared, dropping the boy and nearly falling backward. He grasped his snout as inky black blood would drizzle from his nose. Amore had already gotten up, readied his bow, and aimed it at the demon dog. Rass looked beyond at Amore, a bit stunned but now also furious. He had a low growl, then straightened himself as he would pop his neck and shoulders. 

"You vanna go, huh?" he bellowed, "I vasn't looking for a fight," He lashed his teeth at the Amore, squinting his eyes from his bright pink costume. "Your outfit is hideous." He made one last comment before Amore shot an arrow, which Rasseler quicked ducked under. The dog barked and pounced as his metal claws would scrape on the pavement. Amore quickly jumped up as his wings would catch his weight. Rass skidded to a halt and turned to look as the cupid would ready another arrow. Rass opened his mouth as the red markings on his body began to glow enchantment like patterns. Some sort of fire or light would rise from his mouth as he shot some sort of ball at Amore. He barely dodged, his hair briefly caught in the fire. Amore hollered and smacked his head as to try to put the fire out.

Rasselser howled and he began to run towards him, his heavy footsteps pounding as he leaped upward and snatched his ankle. His weight pulled Amore down greatly, but his wings were strong enough to keep them both in mid-air.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Rass shouted as Amore would repeatedly smack his face with his hard golden bow. Rass caught it with his hand, then would try to climb up onto Amore's coat. His metal claws even ripped a few holes in it before his weight finally got his feet to reach the ground. Now even more aggravated, Rass grabbed a hold of Amore's shirt collar and glared at him in the eyes. His blood stained his chin fur as it still dripped down his nose, and his right eye was partly closed from Amore's bow. Amore tried pushing him away as his breath smelled like rotten flesh and charred wood when he looked above his head to the sight of a black and red barb. 

Before doing anything, Rass just sighed, and dropped Amore like he was just a stone rock. "I'm not vasting my time vith a tiny human boy," even though he sort of did, that enchanted fireball took most of his energy out of him. Amore took one last swift load of his bow and it pierced through Rass' left shoulder knocking him back suddenly. He screeched and winced, not really caring as he watched the boy run away as he fell to his knees. Rasseler growled, then smiled. He laughed as he would rip out the arrow from his shoulder and the stab wound would heal itself instantly. Little do people know that Rasseler can't feel pain from stab wounds. Though the hitting from that bow really caused some damage to his face, that was the least of his worries now.

"Oh... Oh goodness..." Skinner breathed, his remark almost reduced into an awed gasp as he eyed the canine towering over him. It was just a few inches in the literal sense, but when it came to the figurative realm, the middle-aged man was definitely diminutive compared to the other party. His hands fumbled as they attempted to search for his pockets - if only so he could pull out that red-and-white capsule and make this brawl a bit more even...

Not that he could really do so, as he had to barrel-roll into the nearest bush, after the canine's reddish markings started to glow - then released a fireball that just barely missed... Though even then, the man could smell the faintest hint of burnt cashmere coming from the edge of his sweater.

Adieu, sweet cloth... He was definitely going to need a new outfit after this fight was over.

Hands still frantically moving all over the place, Skinner bit down on his lip before finally pulling out a red-and-white capsule and opening it, releasing a large green, red-eyed dragonfly that looked... Pissed, to say the least! In hindsight, that was a foolish decision - given that bugs were weak to fire, but... As he wrung his hands together, the middle-aged man felt that he had no choice, especially because he had already tossed his bug out onto the field, and withdrawing it would be a major slight against the aristocrat's own dignity.

"I have no idea what you're here for," stated the man in between pants for air, "but I think you have the wrong person-" As far as he was concerned, this fellow was an assassin looking to claim bragging rights by killing him, but... If pride wasn't the motive, than what could be? That, he genuinely didn't know. His reputation was immaculate as far as he was concerned, and as he watched his dragonfly zoom around and start emitting sonic waves at its foe, Skinner knew he needed to think fast...

Yet for a moment, he closed his eyes, perhaps so he could think more clearly. The man knew it was a balance that he needed to maintain, and it was quite the delicate one as he breathed - in and out, in and out. It wasn't like he was certain if these would be the last ones he'd make, in case his bugs were all defeated in the brawl.

Skinner opened his eyes once more to see his dragonfly still flying around, but more frantically than before as it attempted to dodge the canine's metal claws. For a moment, he felt his heart stir, if only because he thought that it was rather cruel to leave his own companion out like this. It was one thing to have it fight in a tightly regulated match in which intentional harm was forbidden and punishable by law, another entirely to have a brawl in with life or death were the only two viable consequences.

After regaining some of his breath, Skinner rolled back in, proclaiming all too proudly, "You thought you had an easy victory, just because I look old and defenseless? Fine, then- Let me prove you wrong in that department, and let you come back to your senses through environmental consequence, sir!"

Skinner fucking..... implodes..... thank you fizz for the necromancy..... :"))))

here is. my follow-up.

^_{Oh..Oh sorry wrong number}

Jack despised this part of the job. He hated it. He hated it how much he...liked it. The rush, the adrenaline. Jack could feel his heart pumping and his hand, that just had given Skinner a nasty right hook, tingled. Jack had heard Skinner's nose break. The satisficing sound of snapping bone. The smell of blood. Jack panted. The poor man. Wolves and Skinner didn't match it seems.

Jack stared at the fallen aristocrat on the ground. "Listen, buddy, " bold word choices. "I don't have the time for your jokes, " Jack continued. He knelt down to study his handy work from up close. Jack grimaced when he saw Skinner's face. The crooked nose and the blood. So much blood. 

I did that, Jack sharply reminded himself in disgust. He shivered. He wouldn't want to think of what happened if the aristocrat had actually fought back... If Jack had loses his control.. No, he told himself. Focus.
"I want answers. My mark is getting away as we..speak, " another bold word choice. Punching someone in the face was far from civil conversations. Jack grabbed the old man's collar as if Skinner had ány intention to move. "So tell me, " he said. A slight growl in his voice as his shape nails pressed itself through the thin textile of Skinner collar. "Small woman, brown curls with a big hat. Have you seen her." Jack narrowed his eyes and placed his knee on Skinner's chest. "I don't care about your money, nor reputation. I want justice and my answers, " Jack said. He almost sound noble if you somehow forget that he lost his temper a minute ago and broke an (almost) innocent man's nose. "Mary, that's her name, " Jack said. Giving Skinner's collar a good shake. "She's kidnapped. I want her back, " Jack continued. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Skinner or himself at this point, but it did not matter. Mary.. They were friends since childhood. When Jack was with the rangers, they kept in contact with letters. She was the one that invited him to the provincial small village after his..accident. She was the one that took care of him, his friend.. And now Mary was gone. And rich people seemed to be involved. Though, Jack doubted that Skinner was directly involved. He didn't seem to be type that involved himself with kidnappings and criminals..Right? Still, Jack's ear twitched, Mary's sent as weak as her trail was, had led him here. To this man. Jack snarled, flashing his teeth in a twisted grin. "You better start talking buddy, or I break more then your nose."

--

For np: Jack mostly fight with his fists.. He got a sword too but he usually forgets he owns one. 

--
AAAAAAA my follow up as promised: also tw for uncontrolled murder fantasy ahsh I'm so sorry Jack sometimes is a bit edgy. 

Mia's fur is ruffled, her tail is straight up. "I don't want to fight you, but you're leaving me no choice." Her eyes start glowing more than usual, the ground around her starts to shift. A decomposing hand suddenly reaches out of the ground, a poucher...what's left of one... rises up. Its eyes are glowing like Mia's, a few more hands come out of the ground. A total of five undead stand behind Mia. "I DONT want this, please dont make it come to this" Even through the glowing of her eyes, the sadness was there. Mia doesnt like fighting, but she will if she has to. Two of the undead step forward, their rusted guns still in their hands. Mia lunges forward, jumping to the side after going forward. She grabs Yuè's arm, pulling it behind his back and yanking it hard. She dislocates the shoulder and gives a clean shot to the first two undead. They fire one after the other, both aimed for the chest. Yuè stumbles back, Mia lets him fall "I'm sorry"

Wide eyed the thief stared at his hand.. His hand!? The fingers moved but it wasn't him who controlled them. An nauseating feeling rolled over Salvador. Tighten his guts as he just stared.
"What are you doing?" he barked at the necromancer. "L..Leave me," he cried. But his hand fall limb next to his body. His fingers reaching for his belt, the tops finding his bandensnijder. The small shank Salvador always carried along with him.
With the weapon locked in his fingers and his hand back raised, the two locked eyes. Mia's death pupilles white eyes and Salvador's brown.
"P..Please," Salvador bagged. His lower lip shaking from effort. His other hands busy trying to pluck his own fingers of the blade, but with little success. "I'm not here to.. To harm," he said. Void. He didn't even knew what a graveyard was.
They didn't bury their deaths in Drakenburg, nor the Pact. Void. Some of the dead came back to life, like what happened to Salvador. He just heard you could snatch some old jewelry, some rusted guns, from this place. He didn't know it had a guardian. Let alone one that could control him like a puppet.

As a thunderclap on a clear summer day, Salvador regained control over his muscles, his tendons and immediately dropped the shank, that he had pressed to his own throat. Salvador cried. Rubbing his eyes clean with the back of his arm.
"I promise I'll never come back to this place," the youth said. Shivering on his own feet as he picked up the small dagger. Placing it back in the secure place on his belts. "N.Never," he added. Salvador took a last long look at the hyenacentaur. Sniffing as he did so. Then turned on his heels and darted off. He ran as quickly as his feet could carry him.

--
 _{Ok, but real talk: I missed them:}

these two haven't interacted in so long ngl......... so I had to go for it. but my response is long (again) defvsdfvsdfvfd- I'll place my response in a spoiler box just to be safe!!

Brown, being shitty at fighting at this point in her life? it's more likely than you think. thank you for the necromancy (again) fizz- 😔

follow-up time, laddies. father-daughter bonding session??? maybe???? via.... violence.....

_{Jack on Skinner's doorstep after seeing here ' Clearly someone had been using force for… Other things.' reaction.}
--
_{*drops Jack in this thread drops Jack in this thread, dro-*}
In reaction too Young Brown for continuity sake 👀.

Jack had shove his chairs and table aside. Creating an open space in his messy cabin. The curtains were closed and only light came from several whale-fat candles and oil lamps. Damping the cabin with the smell of sweat and whale.
A gramophone played a upswing swinngers-tune that bounced on the empty walls.
It was 5 days till the next full moon. Tomorrow, Jack would transform in his half-form. He had an ache in his throat, a fire in his chest and a knack for aggression. Jack had draped his coat over one of his chairs, rubbed his clearly more hairy arms before giving his guest, Brown, a wide smile.
"I want you to punch me," he simply stated.
Jack removed his necktie while approaching the younger lady. "I promised you that you'd be save here, but with these wild bloodhounds on the loose, it's better if you learned how to fight." Jack said. "I've seen you punch a hole in the door so don't act all innocently now-" Jack just managed to withdraw his head from her flying fist, "atta-girl!" He encouraged.
"Okay let's give that punch more strength shall we," Jack said. "First your footwork. Look at my feet," Jack set his left feet in front. His right firm on the ground. He'd angle his body away from her, lifted up his hands around his neck level. "This a neutral stance. You gonna need it, I've been in enough bar-fistfights too know."
 (_{This is why I keep dumping you in this thread you punch-happy furry}).
When Brown copied his pose, Jack gently pushed her right foot, with his own foot, a bit more backwards. He corrected her craned neck down and lifted up her arms just slight. Then nodded.  "Keep your mouth closed," he instructed. "You don't want to loose any of your teeth." Jack said. Showing a hint of his sharp fangs.
"It's best to keep your thumbs loosely at the side of your hand when making a fist," Jack showed her his fist. "Otherwise you can break your bones. Don't bend it, keep your fingers close together." Very slowly he swinged his fist at Brown. His thumb and palm pointing at the ground. "Like this, don't forget to use your left. It can give you an element of surprise," Jack said.

Then he jumped a few passes backwards, lifting up his hands and beckoned her to come for him. To his, not really, surprise she made a move on him. Brown swinged his fist at him but Jack managed too duck. Another. One of Brown's fists hit his arm.  He'd now get how she could punch a hole in a door before. "Those fossil hunts are roughing you up innit?" Jack asked her. Slightly astonish by the force of her punch. "When you lower your fists, you're exposing your face," Jack said.
"If you see a chance, go for the chin or nose," Jack said. Blocking one of her punches with his arms. The force of the blow vibrating in his bones.  
"Watch your sides, elbows lower, protect your kidneys," Jack said. Stepping closer. Forcing her arm away with his while the other fist aimed at her side. Giving it a soft nudge instead of a flow blown. "Another weak spot," he instructed.

The gramophone was still blaring when the this small truce between the two of them arose. For a few seconds it was the only sound in the room. Jack laughed. Breaking the silent. A big smile popping on his face, the kind of expression a dad would have when his daughter catch a big fish. Or did a perfect pirouette. But good ol' Jack's priorities lied elsewhere it seems.
"You should see yourself, how determent you are," he said. Making fun of her concentrated expression. It was quite laughable with those pursed lips and tighten jaw.
"Next time we see Skinner, you're the one breaking his nose alright?" He instructed. Stepping away from her and picking up his necktie. Using it to rub the sweat from his forehead. Then throw the cloth at her.
"Believe me, he got a very punchable nose."

--

Me with this drama

It was more a struggle then a full-blown out fight. Like feeding your dog medicine while they refuse to take it, kind of situation. Yuè being the dog in this situation. The medicine? A arm full of tentacles and necromantic-like healing magic. Yuè was unconscious for the majority of wounds Mary had stitched up. But unfortunately for the swordsman he had woken up as soon as she touched the biggest one. The one on his leg.

"Come keep still," Mary said. As she tried to wrap her tentacles around the nasty infected wound on Yuè's leg. "Just don't look at them, look at me instead.." The cold slimey touch of her tentacles resting against the feverish infected skin was enough to make Yuè's leg twitch. Made it flail like a fish. Which made Mary lose grip again. "Darn," she whispered underneath her breath.
 How am I ever going to help him if he doesn't sit still!
"Okay let me try that again..." Mary muttered. She took Yuè's hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze. Mary's thumb rubbed the back of his hand in a soothed manner. It was funny, Mary pondered. Witch hands did feel different then human hands. She shook her head then forced her gaze up. Focus. Locking eyes with former scholar.
"Its just as if your pet-lizard walks over your skin. That's all.. Just imagine a bunch of them on your lap. All at once.." Mary bit her lower lip. Then forced a quick smile on her lips. "Take a deep breath," Mary said. While she subconscious took a deep breath her self. "Like this," she said. Her cheeks bulging with air. "And it will be over in a matter of seconds!" She said as she released the breath she'd hold.
When Yuè gave her a reassuring nod Mary lowered her hand again. Sprouting a bunch of tentacles. Mary kept staring into Yuè's dark gaze, as the tendrils quickly wrapped themselves around the wound. She gave his hand, with her other hand, a soft squeeze. "Good," Mary complimented. Finally breaking her eye contact and lowering her gaze back at the wound. Now back too work. 

Mary could feel Yuè's heartbeat in the leg. The soft throbbing of his heart. Pounding. Full of life. Mary took another sharp breath, allowing her magic to seep into her hand. It made her fingers twitch and cold. Left a bitter taste in her mouth. "This is going to sting," she warned the swordsman. "Just squeeze my hand if it get's too much.."
And with that the tentacles tightened. As if secured with barbs. Her fingers touched the damaged skin, absorbing the the infection in her own fingers. It made her shiver. Her back cold with sweat. Mary could feel the fever slowly ebbing away underneath her touch. How life seeped back in the leg. It made her headpins. Just a bit longer. The saint closed her eyes. You can do this! 
Mary opened her eyes and bit her lower lip. Making it split. But even the stinging sensation and iron taste of blood didn't break her concentration. She smiled at Yuè. Who slowly regained color in his face. She saw how his grimaced relaxed and slowly started removed her tendrils. Mary stared at the cleaned wound and smiled hollowly. Her fingers had started to shake and sweat beads formed on her arm forehead. "Okay," she said in a weaker voice. Big wounds like those required a lot of stamina.
"We only need to stitch it now," she said. Pricking a thread in the needle (which was a difficult task with those shaky hands of her!). "Then we drink some water.. Fresh cold water. I think it will do us both good."

--

SDFJKLSDF finally they meet

*slams my fist into the table* this is.... a long response. so you know what time it is.... :")))

mom said it's MY turn to butcher real-world laws and ethics for the sake of Beatrice being salty.... in a follow-up.

Sitting in a shady bar, Ace was waiting to start her performance, when someone caused a ruckus at a table nearby. Apparently, a journalist had snuck in a camera and recorded some politician engaging in illegal drug trade. And now she was beating up the bouncers who were trying to take away her camera. Ace decided to step in, eighter to deescalate the situation, or resolve it by force… probably the latter.

The bouncers backed up, allowing Ace to talk to Beatrice face to face. In a half-assed attempt to prevent a fight, she asked, “Look, why don’t you just lend me that camera for a minute. I’ll just delete anything you recorded in here, and no one has to get hurt. I’ll even buy you a drink, deal?” She walked up to the reporter and reached for her camera, before being punched in the face. Being a little surprised by Beatrice’s strength, Ace said, “W- wow, you’re stronger than you look. Well alright, looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

Ace didn’t want to use her magic jet, for one, she didn’t want to spoil her later performance by putting her magic on display. She also believed that her demonic strength alone would be enough to subdue a mere reporter. But she was mistaken, Ace’s martial art skills left much to be desired. Her clumsy attacks were heavily choreographed, and Beatrice dodged and countered every time. Ace jumped backwards onto a table and said, “Damn, you’re pretty good at this, aren’t you?” As two chains appeared from her shackles, she said, “Let’s see how you deal with this.” 

Ace lashed her chains at her opponent, one was dodged but the other wrapped itself around her ankle. The chain ‘melted’ and took on a form matching one of Ace’s shackles. Ace said, “Try to dodge this,” as she held out her right arm. She suddenly disappeared, teleporting directly in front of Beatrice and slamming into her, hitting a devastating clothesline to the chest. 

Ace quickly checked her opponent for any serious injuries before taking her camera. “Sorry, I went a little overboard. You can have your camera back when you leave. So, how about that drink I offered? You don’t drink? They got some ‘mocktails’ here, you should try one of those?”

Spoilered since Ace does get hurt a little.