Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Should I be having trouble?" Owle asked, her smile widening into a grin. It seemed like she couldn't be unhappy while looking at that grin on his face.

Gamma doubled back after seeing the ghost, no point in rushing something coming at you. Gammu fell into a guardlock position, and Gamma followed suit. Settling against Gammu's back he braced his forearm against the back of his right shoulder and the fourty millimeter cannon, that arm leading to brace the riotgun which he now held with both arms. Crouching slightly to match his brother's example they were now in a riot march; Gamma close enough to feel movement and follow it perfectly and brace his brother with his own strength and weight.

He chambered the second flare, and waited while his brother sprayed thermite at the hovering cloud of sheets and such.

"Thank you," Owle said to the empty air. "You too."

And she walked out of the dressing room, leaving the beautiful clothes behind her.

((It's about time for me to sleep, so Owlie's going to go into super stealth mode for now, I'm thinking.))

Gamma spun, releasing his position from Gammu and breaking their marching stance. As he followed the ghost with the open sights of the riotgun. A quilted tendril, tipped with tent materials. Gamma fired at the arm itself with the flare, hoping to burn the quilted limb and render it useless once it burned.

Closing fast, Gamma raised his right arm bent at the elbow to parry the grip. It hit, and grabbed, but was still only a tent. Gamma's armored left hand grabbed at the tentpoles that were seizing his right arm and began to rip and tear pieces from it.

And what an attack it was. The flare severed the arm from the main body, and turned the tent from a chaoticly inhanced tent into a regular old peice of crap. On the other front, the magneticly propelled shell would reach the ghost in no time and, you guessed it, explode into shrapnel. A section of the creature's side was blown clear off, exposing a small portion of the darkness underneath. Still, the chaos powered sleeping bag armour helped reduce the damage somewhat. This clearly wasn't your average laundry basket.

The ghost let out a great wail, and began to spew dozens of minature versions of itself. The smaller ghosts were made from anything and their power was proportianal to whatever that was. The washcloth ghost would have a smaller punch than the cannonball powered pilliowslip ghost. But they were homing projectiles more than minions, the lil' ghosties would zoom forward, hit Gamma or Gammu and transform back into their regular form.

The momma ghost was already sucking in air, ready to draw the projectiles back in the moment they transformed back.

Beneath the helm Gammu grinned as the mono-lens flared, his HUD was showing everything to him. With a mental flicker a short burst of the rockets had him moving laterally along the ground, flanking the ghost to its left. Landing with a tumble he came up on his feet and released another torent of burning thermite as it sucked in more air, moore fuel for the flame.

Standing up as the fire consumed the fabrics Gammu swept the area with his sensors. Looking to Gamma he wondered what their next course of action could be. Stepping foward as what could only be described as phantoms flying through the air in all directions tell they dispereced and were gone from sight surprised him slightly, but his condition kicked in and he knelt down to investigate the strange trophy.