Out of the dark swarm phantoms, both aer and lux, all nipping and shoving at the wagon. Ren runs doggedly onwards, but the phantoms are just as determined, and soon he is forced to slow.
The
crack-BOOM of lightning flashes through the dark, pinging off one-two-three-four coins! The resultant beam rips through a line of phantoms. V1 stows its railcannon and pulls out a nailgun before the remaining wisps have even faded.
“Careful!” Morgana complains, and Gordon takes approximately zero seconds’ pause before firing a round of vile bolts to take down an overly-bold nightmare with its eye on Ren. He takes even less time to care before sniping a lux phantom swirling dangerously close, too.
Elytra has taken up residence across the back of the wagon, beetle-shell cloak shimmering as they whirl it around and into the way of any creatures’ attacks. There, a bright bolt, there, a cutting wind, there, stinging sparks from a nightmare! Arcane from V1’s revolver blasts it away.
And—
And—
They’re still in last place. The further they fall, the more bold the pack gets, too, sensing stragglers, smelling the metaphorical blood in the water.
V1 has a plan.
Well, it always
had a plan, but the plan in question was delayed. And delayed over again. But RIGHT NOW! Right now it has a plan and it’s as good a time as ever to use it.
Stowing its sawblade launcher after firing off one last saw, it grabs its shotgun again. Then it reaches into another wing and withdraws
another railgun, this one Fire rather than Lightning like the last.
Then it braces itself against the poor battered wagon seat with its two free hands, and—
“Put those DOWN!” Morgana shrieks. “No! I already told you! What are you even going to DO with a SHOTGUN—“
V1 likes KITR way more than Morgana, it decides.
"...What?" Morgana suddenly says, flicking an ear. V1 follows his gaze to Gordon, and Elytra does too. "Sorry, I don't know sign."
A flash of annoyance crosses Gordon's face. He raises a hand to say something more, but interrupts himself to whip out his pistol and fire a vile bolt directly between V1 and Elytra both. The hiss of an aer phantom follows immediately. Elytra yips, both heads belatedly ducking down.
“
I know it,” V1 says, in sign (what else?). “…A little bit.”
"Well, anyways!" Morgana says, only for Gordon to then reach across the wagon and physically shut his trap.
"That cat doesn't know what he's talking about," Gordon says, letting go of Morgana halfway through to free up his other hand. "Do what you got to do."
"HEY!" Morgana yowls the moment he can. "Why, you…"
“HOLD IT,” Elytra commands, thrusting a forefoot in front of V1’s shotgun. They actually pause, seemingly for a response, and when nothing happens, and the other head mutters, “Damn, I thought it’d still fire–”
“Didn’t get to test the new stitch,” the first laments in agreement. A section of their beetle-wing cloak is wrapped about the forefoot blocking V1’s aim–
did they think it’d prevent their limb from getting blown off??–
But they–both heads!–brighten. “Say–”
“–here’s another opportunity!”
“
I will prevent this cart from obtaining more damage,” they say, puffing out their chest in (misplaced) pride.
“What a promotion this’ll make for my commissions,” their other head cackles. Abruptly, they whirl away from V1. And suddenly they’ve shoved their front half out through the window, pulling their beetle-wing cloak out with them.
“FIRE AWAY!” the one head still inside the wagon trumpets, while the one outside hurls insults and crude gestures to the Nightmares chasing the wagon. “NOT A SCRATCH WILL BEFALL US!”
They flare the cloak out to its full length. The rows and rows of neatly stitched shells glint and gleam in excited mischief in the glow thrown off by the mushroom clusters spotted abundantly throughout the bramble. Elytra gives it a shake, setting each row a-shivering, and one head whispers, “Oh, I can’t wait to find out!”
If V1 could blink, it would. Then it gives Elytra a thumbs-up with a free hand.
"Or," Morgana says, groaning, "we could just not shoot ourselves!"
"Don't worry, kitty," Gordon says. "That's not the plan."
Morgana blinks at him, again, until Elytra’s inside head helpfully repeats him out loud.
“Then
what is?! Because it sure looks like that!”
“Have you heard of rocketjumping?” Gordon asks. It takes him a second to spell it out. Elytra repeats him again.
Morgana clearly has not, if his reaction is anything to go by. “What does that even—“
In the front of the wagon, Ren has been making out pieces and bits of conversation- not the whole thing, but enough to get the gist. Maybe-
WOOSH!
He yelps as a pair of lux and aer phantoms manages to hit him full-force with disorients and enamors. Amplified by his contract with Arsène and the demon’s own weakness to light, combined with his own innate weakness to wind, the spells
rip across his back and wings, and there he falls, disoriented (ha— that’s not funny) into the dirt-
CLUNK goes the wagon, drawing twin (triplet?) yips from Morgana and Elytra and forcing Gordon and V1 to clutch the seat to keep from falling off.
“Ren!” Morgana shrieks, drawing all attention to the dragon in question. There is a long line of Light scoured along his back from the phantoms swirling around him. “Hey!! Don’t just stand there!
Do something!”
The wagon skids, sideways, to a stop, dragging poor Ren with it.
He lays there for a moment; Morgana screeches and sprints to him, shouting at the other three to “DO SOMETHING, DAMNIT!”
V1 is the first to react, though Elytra is nearly just as fast. It tosses two coins into the air and snipes just as many phantoms with the ricoshets as Elytra sweeps their cloak over their wings, leaping to Ren and bundling him under it before making a hasty retreat to the safety of the wagon.
Vile bolts and Arcane beams dispatch any phantoms still straying too close.
“Ren!” Morgana yells, shaking the spiral. He snaps around to Gordon and V1— “This is YOUR fault! If you hadn’t gotten distracted—“
“Did someone get the number of that train,” Ren says, dragging himself upright and sprawling out across the wagon seat. Gordon stares and scoots to the far end of the seat. “Okay. I’m fine.”
“No you’re not! Ren, we’ve talked about this! You just—“ Morgana gestures at where Ren had just fallen, tail lashing violently.
“Morgana, it’s okay. I heard you have a plan?” Ren asks, and V1 nods so quickly the yellow light of its optic blurs.
“Rocketjumping,” Gordon says again. Ren is puzzled for about half the word before he gains a dangerous glint in his eye. “Are you in or are you in? I’m not taking second opinions.”
Elytra repeats him for Morgana’s benefit, too, drawing more complaints from the cat.
Ren looks over the wagon. Gordon whirls around and nails a nightmare that has crept particularly close.
“And you needed someone to protect the wagon…” Ren muses under his breath. “That sounds like a plan.”
V1 visibly perks up at that.
“Not you too!” Morgana whines, all concern forgotten.
“Morgana- Arsène has Tetrakarn,” Ren looks pointedly at the cat, “trust me, this’ll
work.”
Morgana’s ears flatten. “If you say so…”
Elytra bustles over to the rear of the cart, busying themself with hanging their cloak
just right.
V1 taps on their wing. “Need some room.” They shift just enough to let it squeeze beside them.
“You still haven’t explained what it means, though,” Morgana snips at Gordon.
“Shut up and find out,” Gordon says, once again relayed by Elytra.
“Let’s find out!” they echo, jaws parting to bare too broad a grin. Their outside head snickers and whisper-shouts, “
There’s only one way!”
V1 braces itself, digging claws into the wood of the wagon's supports, and raises its two weapons. Gordon stows his own gun and clutches the back of the seat as Ren's mask flickers back into existence.
"...Let's find out," Morgana sighs.
- Team B
