FOR DALMASCA.

“You don’t need to worry about paying me, fon Ronsenburg. I’ve been here long enough to live through a couple of these catastrophes.” A dry laugh escapes him at the unintentional pun. “I’ve already been turned into a monster. Whatever that little gremlin was talking about doesn’t scare me.”

Suffice to say, he’s not about to go out of his way to meet the Merrymaker’s demands for entertainment. The gunhead would raise a brow at how well-equipped the other man is, if he had eyebrows. He’s not sure whether the state of being over-prepared is admirable or comical. A mixture of both, really.

“So, who’re we meeting? Friend of yours from your world, or someone you met here?” He strikes up a casual conversation as they walk, hand in the pocket of his jacket. “You look and talk pretty medieval, if you don’t mind me saying.”

♞ … … … Basch doesn’t laugh at the pun, but he does cast the metal man a glance. Already he’s making a line for the ward entrance, and feeling more comfortable with his impromptu partner by the second. “ I see. I’ll not forget your aid, regardless. ”

A change in the atmosphere strikes him the second he crosses over the boundary. A tangible tension combined with the appearance of his catculator upon scarred wrist. Basch grunts, an uneasy noise. Verbally, the change goes unacknowledged. “ A viera by the name of Fran. She is being hunted as we speak-- I doubt she will be easy to find even once we arrive at the proper location. Nonetheless, she will be a valuable ally. ”

The mall is his destination, little time spared for the balloons milling around. Basch withdraws his blade and strikes at a white one that happens across their path. Just as effortlessly, he destroys a black one too. There’s no time to waste avoiding them. “ ...medieval? ” Basch’s voice is surprised some. “ I have put many a year into sharpening my Dalmascan dialect, I suppose. There was once a time I worked closely with royalty-- fine speech is a necessity. ”

♞ … … … Azalea is left at home for this outing. As pleasant as the beach is, with all its amusements and hubbub, he knows that the dog isn’t ready for such chaos. So Basch sits by his lonesome near the boardwalk-- the actual one mind you, not the theme park-- and waits. She arrives not too long after, green hair separating her from the rest even at a distance. Basch stands with a small, demure smile. “ Tiki. I am glad you were able to come. ”

To: Basch SENDER: Fran

{SMS}: There’s half a bundle left. But not much longer. I will handle them but hurry.

TO: Fran FROM: fon Ronsenburg, Basch

“I’m a one man army, buddy. Don’t need anyone else.” The gunhead thumps his fist over his broad chest. He may be missing a limb, but he carries himself with the ease of someone well-adjusted to the disability. “Point me in the direction of trouble, and I’ll flatten it.”

“Just make sure you stay out of my way while I’m doing the flattening, yeah?”

Jyuzo drops his cigarette, grinding it out beneath his heel as he turns sharply. He raises his hand as if to shield his vision and scans the horizon. “Let’s get going, then. Should be easy enough to grab some of those balloons along the way.”

♞ … … …  “ Very well. I’ll take note. ” He’s glad for the enthusiasm. “ Ideally, the three of us will maintain a near equal count. The circumstances will not be ideal, however. ‘Tis my intention to lend aid to those caught unwillingly in the cat’s midst... I will not ask you to sacrifice your own count... but I do ask that the balloons be left to those who need it most should the situation call for it. ”

To: Basch SENDER: Fran

{SMS}: No different here. People are killing each other. Being pursued by 3 humes wanting my points. I am in hiding until they separate. 

{SMS}: Arrows and weapons. Lots of them.

TO: Fran FROM: fon Ronsenburg, Basch

TO: fon Ronsenburg, Basch FROM: J. Inui

TXT: if anyone is dumb enough to believe what the cat says I’ll gladly beat them up TXT: See you in five

True to his word, he arrives within the aforementioned timeframe. Towering head and shoulders above most of the assembled crowd, his metal jaw illuminated by the faint glow of a cigarette, he’s hard to miss.

Despite his monstrous appearance, his voice is surprisingly neutral when he calls out: “I’m looking for a fon Ronsenburg?”

♞ … … … He is quick to weave through the crowd. Comically short in comparison to the walking gun, of course, but he carries himself with a sharp authority to compensate. “ And you have found him, ” Basch replies, bowing his head. So this J. Inui wasn’t kidding when he said he described himself. There is a slight awe aglow in his tired eyes, but other than that, there are more important things to prioritize.

To: Basch From: Fran

{SMS}: I am already here. Find me at the place called “the mall”. Plenty of those floating things to take down.

{SMS}: Be careful. They will see you a threat.

TO: Fran FROM: fon Ronsenburg, Basch

TO: fon Ronsenburg, Basch FROM: J. Inui

TXT: Organized movement? TXT: i don’t think you need an army to fight balloons but sure. why not TXT: Where are you? i’ll swing by to help. I’m the tall one with a gun for a head

(What’s with the flowery speech, though…? Maybe they’re a poet.)

TO: fon Ronsenburg, Basch FROM: J. Inui

Gratitude is great but it means shit if this guy dies right after they both put everything on the line to save the lady still on the table. He groans in partial frustration, easing the other further back against the chair for full support. He can be thankful this wounds were nowhere near as severe or he definitely wouldn’t have been able to save them.

Guess they both had somethin’ to be thankful for tonight, huh?

He’s careful gettin’ the wound properly dressed and threaded up for a good close, fingers twitching against the discomfort of sweat lodged between his fingers, trapped beneath medical gloves. Finally moving away, he strips them into the nearest disposal before wrapping Basch’s arm firmly. All set.

“Nah.. Pretty sure you’ve earned a solid, pal. Only gonna charge you for one. It’s the life that’s worth not the pay.”

♞ … … … “ You are certain? ” Basch asks in the aftermath of it all. He flexes his arm a little, gauging his range of movement and sense of pain now that it has been stitched and bandaged. He has faced far worse, however, and is relieved that this is just another light scar to add to the bunch.

TO: All FROM: fon Ronsenburg, Basch

Oh? A response!

[From:  🍩⚔️ To: fon Ronsenburg, Basch]

[Text:] I am still up for a fightt yes [Text:] I will take up your offer [Text:] you will know when i arrive [Text:] as i am large bug like being

Citizens of Spirale beware, Hollow’s running at full-speed from Fibonacci Ward to Golden. They find the hall before long, and only get their horns slightly stuck on the frame before remembering ‘oh yeah, I can crouch to get through these doors.’

There is now a large bug sitting cross-legged in the middle of a sparring field. They appear to be meditating.

TO: 🍩⚔️ FROM: fon Ronsenburg, Basch

TXT: Then I will be along shortly.

♞ … … … He is not as deft as Hollow. Door is shut and locked behind him only when he’s fully dressed in his makeshift Dalmascan armor, cloak clasped around his neck, sheath filled with a true blade, wooden mockery in the other. There’s no telling what kind of spar this individual is after, so all bases are covered.