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((So where does that put us? Back at Rage's post with the deflecting?))

((I don't know. But whatever happens, Owle still makes her attack against Gamma.))

((I believe that leaves us at Rage's attack with his super-heated katana. Gamma needs to take damages based on the attacks he's recieved so far. And I'll be judging resistance to Owle's attack in a sense since she needs to go.

And can you clarify which rounds, Fen? Because you shot three rounds at me, two of which I deflected directly back at you, and said nothing about them in your post.))

((Can we assume that it'll at least cut into metal? I don't really care by how much, just that it cuts.))

For the second time today, Detective Sipowicz was suprised by what he saw. The menagerie of powerful beings before him, most all seemingly involved in a conflict of destructive preportions. All of this, and nobody had bothered to let him know.

Feeling throughly left out, he hid a frown under his moustache. Time to pick a target. There's always an underdog.

Oh, the angel getting assaulted by the demon. Hard to get clearer-cut than that.

Sipowicz liked it when it was easily defined as "Good" and "Bad". That was happening less and less often. He briefly thought about youth, then cranked the engine.

He burned turf for a second, kicking mud into the air. Hurtling towards an embankment, running a very complex trajectory problem, he proceded to...Fly. Leaving the "ramp" or "Small hillock of grass", he found himself about to crash down on the back of the offending demon. "YIpee-Kai-Yai-Yay!"

It had been a long time. Or at least, a long time to the man laying on the ground, for whom the angel had let fall. Breathing hurt, seeing hurt, everything just, hurt.

He slowly pulled his knees up under him. It hurt, and his movement was ginger, but nothing seemed too broken.

He could move, and perhaps get a little bit away from the demon, the explosions, the fire of doom.

Perhaps.

He sat there, curled up, knees and legs under him, resting for a moment before he tried to get to his feet.

((Alright. I'm heading off for the night.

I wish to allow anyone to make an attack on Owle while I'm offline, because the effects of her attack will still linger. But, please, just one attack, from one person.))

((Okay. It went like...

Rage's attack/deflection
My needing-to-be-editted post
Then Owle's attack.

Got it.))

She bounced some of the rounds back, which was far too little. This woman was hardly a gauss projection rail. Their soft metallic form bouncing off Boron-carbide Ceramic plates of his lower torso and left shoulder. An exchange of blades, and she was in the air again. Still slightly offguard at the spectacle of his own rounds hitting him, this was a pretty good opportunity in itself.

Gamma's view switched to infrared and his HUD became of painting of primary colors, and her blade was white. Which could be bad. Gamma fired the flashbang into the woman's fast approaching chest. The impact alone would hurt, but the impact-related explosion of magnesium would cause severe burns.

Speaking of burns, that sword was still on it's way. His view pitched back to regular as the flash subsided quickly; and his audioreceptors were programed to cancel sounds over a certain volume and keep them from reaching his ear. Even here the blade was white. White hot, he assumed.

As it waved at his face the riotgun dropped from his right hand; moving as much of himself as fast as he could to avoid getting his head split open. It struck Gamma's faceplate as he tried to pull away; it's construction providing it's own weakness in this situation.

The blade landed in the hook of his right tusk near the bottom metal jaw. And it burned, the blade continuing it's path suddenly as the black ceramic snapped under the pressure and great heat. Slowed from the initial hit the blade skitted off his shoulder plate, taking with it shavings of his pauldron.

More heat. Fire. In his suit? From the blade? Had to be; nothing else was that hot in the area. His whole body ached with stinging pain of fire. Gamma was still twisting to the right from the hit, and recoiled with his right hand going for the blinded Rage's throat. This pain could only have been from her; with her white katana.

It was only fair that Gamma shared his pain. With his hand going for her throat, his left leg raised and stomped down on Rage's right. Just above the knee in a direction knees did not bend. Fire, fire, fire, Gamma was growing angry with this constant pain. Where was the suit's counter systems? Why was his suit not dissipating the heat?

Good question. As he pressed his weight into blind Rage's knee, he realized that his suit was doing nothing. No alarms, no temperature warnings, no emergency failsafes.

Something was wrong.