Welcome to Gaia! ::

Wondering why she hadn't for some reason heard the nunchuck user's approach or seen his feet, which she obviously would have, Elizabeth nonetheless adapted to the situation. As the alley was too tight to allow substantial dodging, she simply batted the kick aside, grabbed the fabric of the man's pants, and pulled him clean off his feet. As he was now quite soundly on the ground, with one leg raised, Elizabeth indulged her natural instinct, pulling the leg up with one hand as her other fist drove down, impacting the man's testicles.

If Finnegan had been paying attention, he would remember that he could walk on it, but it required him to brace the leg much as he would a defensive stance - put a part of his Sigil-power into it.

Elizabeth discovered that should couldn't carry out her masterful plan because she'd just be <******** kneed in the face. Despite this unfortunate setback, she still managed to grab a hold of the man's pants - but once he landed, she was stunned and he was not. He struck her hand with his nun-chucks, forcing her to release his leg, before kicking Elizabeth forward, toward the rifleman.

Clarissa started running out of the house the second Finnegan motioned to her. After all, the house was being shot at. With a machine gun.

Why were things never easy?

She jumped out the window and saw Elizabeth and Helena facing some more soldiers. Elizabeth seemed to be having trouble so she quickly left to help. Because of Clarissa's insane boost in power, she was able to dodge the rifleman's aim, grab the rifle, and crush it in her hands.

The barrels were now in a distinctive L-shape. Now that the rifle was out of the way, she started her main mode of attack: slashing everything in front of her to pieces.

Helena was getting tired: tired of never getting answers, tired of always having to fight so people could not finish giving answers, and tired of seeing half of the answers in her mind but never able to understand them.

So when the crazy Hispanic vaulted over Elizabeth's shield and started assaulting them, Grissom didn't ask any of the usual questions like: How did that happen? Why won't you leave us alone? Why the ******** are you using nun-chucks you insane man? No, she was done. She'd had it up to here.

The artist took the blow to the back, but his follow-ups were all easily stopped: when he swung the nun-chucks, she raised her blades; blade density > nun-chuck density; blades cut nun-chucks to bits. And then Elizabeth was spewing again. It seemed Elizabeth and Clarissa had one end of the alley covered.

Helena spun and dashed toward the rifleman and knife wielder, blades raised defensively. She couldn't get a very good cut like this, though. So she did something new. She leaped at her target and lifted her leg for a near perfect axe kick aimed at his skull. And then, something special. Her shin grew a blade too!

Elizabeth surveyed the carnage and spat "********' pricks. Let's be Not Here." She looked around for directions that seemed better for fleeing than others.

She quickly followed after Helena. Moving was better than standing and doing nothing after all. Oh and can't forget the machine gun on the other side of the house. The further away from the machine gun they were, the better their chances.

Helena sighed and sat down, willing her limbs to lose their razor-like edges. As soon as she'd planted herself on the ground, however, she felt a familiar desire. It wasn't the hunger, but it was definitely a pull of the God-Essence. Why is this so familiar?

She looked toward Clarissa as if about to voice it and was reminded of their meeting- and she connected the dots. She gave another sigh as she stood up. "So much for catching a break." Her eyes locked onto Finnegan. "We've got to go find some people- like us."

And she started moving again. "Perhaps we should... commandeer a vehicle?" Oh God, listen to me! I'm suggesting we steal a car now! No no no... "Or, no, I take that back. We don't need another reason to be considered the world's most wanted criminals."

-Nearby-

It hadn't been a pleasant trip, really, and the two weren't ready to stop running, but the soldiers they'd encountered before - the ones who knew how to fight them - were out in force. Not looking for them, but they were out, and so the two had to stay inside.

The two were David Edward Vargas and Andrew Ross, two very different men who encountered each other under extremely odd circumstances. They had been drawn to each other after blacking out and losing track of the people physically closest to them. After a few days of travel together, they'd worked out what had happened; after their memories were restored and they were attacked by Host-Agents, they had fled the United States, jumping the border south (by force) and going all the way to Colombia.

In Colombia was where they had first encountered these soldiers, not like anything they'd met before. They had no smell, no identifying characteristics, like the Host-Agents did, but they unquestionably had the ability to fight more efficiently than the others around them.

And now, two odd things had happened. First, they had begun to feel that... attraction again. Andrew had stipulated that there were other Hosts nearby, presumably having had the same idea. Then they smelt what smelled like... like burning flesh, but not quite.

And then another man had appeared, right next to them.

His blond hair was tousled and unkempt, and his button-up shirt and sweatervest were both ripped and torn. He looked to be in shock, and when he spotted the others he started backing away, then stopped.

"Oh, thank god," he muttered. "Hosts. Don't recognize you," he said, extending a hand. "Lance. Ah - on second thought, maybe I'd best not shake your hand."