Welcome to Gaia! ::

Pullman burrowed himself into the greatcoat he’d thrown on while leaving the penthouse. He’d sent Issaquah away after discovering the messenger to be a trick of the Taskmaster’s and was now in the sourest of moods. Instead of exploding into another violent outburst, a quiet had come over him that mirrored a predator waiting with perfect stillness for the opportune moment to strike. He made a mental note to look for such a moment to get back at Kantos in the future, as audacious a goal as that was. But Andrew Pullman was not a person to forget wrongs committed against him.

"This is troublesome... where are the others?”

Pullman glanced over his shoulder, just now noticing he was not alone on the aeropad. The stranger had more voiced a thought aloud than actually spoken to him, but Pullman scowled anyway.

“The ******** should I know? Why don’t you mosey on over to the edge of the building there and see if you can track ‘em down.”

"What the hell are you—" Pullman began, before the Shadowman promptly ran straight for him and toppled him to the ground.

"Get off me!" Pullman growled, thrashing against the man.

Catalena snorted, though she did have to regulate her sweat output as the tornado formed. A woman, then? A woman in men's clothing, or an irregular man.
She immediately used her telekinetic prowess to push against the assailant's "gravitational" field. With the distance between them constant, she had time to think.
The attacker was changing visual foci too quickly for hypnotism, although Catalena kept her gaze spot on eye level just in case. She had resisted telekinesis. She had resisted telepathy. She used an enchanted weapon. Catalena didn't stand a chance in melee, and she knew that.
All the same, she unbelted her coat and pulled out her swords and dropped her attempts at hypnotism. She would need all of her concentration for this. The first sword, the leveled at the attacker and allowed to be sucked in, point first, perfectly flat, at knee height. The second, she threw spinning horizontally at the girl. To further resist the pull, she leaned back, letting the pull hold her in place as she began to slowly back away, eyes searching for exit points. If she could get back inside, maybe there would be a better route.

Pullman had only ever seen armor like that on broadcasts or pictures. He’d never actually been around any, much less a person wearing some. He felt a rush of something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t fear, even though he knew that’s probably what it should have been.

Realization dawned and he raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh. Eureka.”

He knew what it was now. He was excited.

Pullman hummed an old song—something by the immortal Tommy Tutone, he remembered—as he flipped open his cell phone for the second time in the same hour.

“Izzy, come n’ play.”

Catalena snatched her blades back, got her shoes to float to her, and threw the swords back in again, keeping them in a dance around the assassin while she continued to back away, never letting her eyes leave the opponent. She was ready to break into a run the moment the attacker began pursuit, which she surely would soon, excluding a projectile attack of some kind. She wanted to get into the person's mind... but that would take concentration away from the flashing swords, which came back to her every time they were tossed from the spear. Their attacks were not calculated; it was more that they were kept in range of the opponent and moving, rather than making many defined slashes. Every now and then, one would thrust towards a joint or move to flip out of the way of a strike that might damage it, but they were still primarily distractions until Catalena could reach the mall. Catalena knew that whatever happened, she had to keep her distance.

Patrick decided to stay. He could lose himself OR he could hunt out his enemy in a fresh environment. Wait - first he needed to try and find... ammo. If he had the UMP or the sniper rifle, he could break the man's advantage, find a hiding place and eliminate the target from it.

Wait. Ammo was in the tower. He needed to get across the bridge then. That was critical. He started moving through the crowd, trying to push through as quickly as possible. If he could run, he could be there within a few minutes.

He got started.

"FFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU"

THWUNK‼

The Black Rook rolled to the side and lost about a quarter of his helmet. Blood sprayed onto the ground from the man's head; a severed ear lay on the ground.

"You win this time," he muttered. He pulled a bag from inside his left gauntlet and opened it, spraying a fine powder onto himself. With a flash, he disappeared.

"An escape route. Of course. Good move, Demonologist, I guess the Necroguild didn't send us a p***y Journeyman like we thought they would," Blackstone said, inspecting the area for any residue of the powder. "I'll check on the others - you can stay here, you can clearly handle yourself." Blackstone opened the floor hatch to the inside of the spire and ran into-

"Petrachkov?"

"No time, sir, assassin coming," Petrachkov replied, slamming a UMP clip into his weapon.

"Well, s**t," Blackstone replied, holstering a pistol then arming himself with a sword and shield off of two racks across from each other.