Explosive Evil (Open)

    It was a normal, regular day in Foresta Academy, or as normal as it could get with a bunch of kids messing around with their powers and such. It was also a partly cloudy outside too, as the spring continues to crawl out of winter's grasp as the temperatures are now balanced to slightly cold, or to some people, the end of a the world temperature that isolates people indoors, at the mercy of the AC being their almighty savior and spirit. Also due to the current tournament, everyone is either betting on the winner, planning on dating the constants, or protesting the fights outright, even though they watch the fights regardless. It had everyone excited, and it showed as the hallways were crowded with decorations and posters of the current fighters everywhere, or really the most attractive ones anyway.

But despite that, it was really a regular day at Fores-

     A blast from the entrance interrupted the narration, as smoke and debris from the parts of the giant doors bellowed out into the hall. Students that were around the entrance were blown back, with everyone else either startled by the explosion, or quickly trying to escape from whatever made the sounding boom. From the light of sun came a startling, massive shadow that stepped out from the smoke, with huge boots clamping on the floor. He was a massive tower of a man that stood with pride that pierces the shadows in front of him. If you saw this hulking darkness walking towards you, then you'll see a man with a massive cape that blocks out the sun, with a faint outline that looks like its drawing the light away from the cape, like darkness itself. A uniform stands under that is reminiscent to a old 18th century admiral suit that's colored with twisted versions of green, red, and white, with various metals hanging from his chest. Up above the uniform and cape is a gaping hood that holds a glaring eyes with an evil red and a strong nose that might as well plunge deep into your chest. A wide line of hairs that form giant brow on the lips are paired with fangs that doesn't belong to any human, and with those fangs, he gave a menacing sneer as his gaze gave a dissatisfied appearance and impression.

With a deep breath, he shouted out, "Zo dis is Foresta Acatemy? Ha! Hov bathedic!" Where he then pulled up an arm the shifted into a cannon, which imminently began shooting at the walls and stairs. Blowing pieces away as the students ran away from the man as he laughed at he terror he was causing. "Bvahahahahahaha! Run you little velbs!"
        

    Green eyes glanced over the paper again, comparing it with the school map and the class schedule she had received prior to even stepping foot on school grounds. Already she had memorized what was on the papers, the layout of the school clear in her mind despite never having been here before. Each class was labeled in her mind as though she had already visited the threshold of each room and spied the teacher inside. It was simple navigation and she was given more than enough to see her to not only her classes but the dorm she was to be placed in for the duration of her stay here at Foresta. For her first day here, her specified ‘handler’ had taken the liberty of picking out her clothing so she didn’t look completely ridiculous. A simple empire line gray dress that fell over her form in loose swathes of cotton fabric. The hem line came to her knees, leaving the rest of her legs exposed. Over her shoulders was thrown a thin black jacket made of the same material and on her feet a plain pair of black flats.

    For the most part, she didn’t stand out against the crowd. At least, she wouldn’t if she didn’t have such pale skin that almost gleamed under the sun when it finally crept out from behind the clouds. Hair colored a brilliant crimson that ran the length of her back, and eyes hued and unnatural sort of green. In the light of day however, the most off-putting aspect of them were hidden for the most part. Absentmindedly Eve adjusted the dark satchel thrown over her side, it’s contents little more than books and official papers. Around her neck on plastic wiring sat a silver key to her dorm, it’s number etched on the surface of it, glinting in the light while the sixteen year old continued to observed the papers in her hand.

    The information upon the page no longer interested her. Just the few dots of stray ink that had been left on random parts of the map. Eve was perfectly aware that it was due to a lousy copying job or printer. But that didn’t stop her from rubbing the paper where the dots were located, almost to the point now that she’d torn a hole through the sheet. Her right index finger was already cut twice on the edge, leaving partial dark red spots in it’s wake. The cuts, however recent, had already clotted but not quite ready to close shut. The peaceful walk to the entrance hall was turned on it’s head entirely, forcing Eve to forget her fixation upon the stray dots and look up to the massive crash that echoed in her ears. As sudden as unexpected thunder.

    Students took off in any direction they could to escape the person responsible for such destruction. Eve stood at his back, unable to glean the distinctions of his face but noting the dramatic flair of a cape wrapped around his shoulders. With a sinister laugh the boy pulled something from his cape, a firearm of some kind she gathered, from the way it hit the walls inside the hall and blew away entire portions of the structure. Most had already fled the scene, but Eve found no cause for concern apparently, for the young woman put her papers away as she approached the guy from behind. With a gentle step she waltzed over the broken glass and other debris, stopping not but two feet from the stranger. ”Excuse me sir, but I do not think the other appreciate your actions.” An entirely obvious statement, completely oblivious to the fact that he was doing it for pleasure there of.

    "Here I was thinking, today's not so bad. Ridiculously pointless. But not bad." The psychotic failed to cause real harm on the students, so Arwen Kalevere hardly felt rushed to intervene. She arrived as though slipping out of the ether, taking careful note of the assailant's stature and weaponry. Large: physical power high. Sharp, vicious features: possible vampire, derivative, or other variation. Accent: German. Conclusion: Speed unknown, possibly superhuman strength and perception, megalomaniacal, far too eccentric for good taste, and military. "But not a Nazi," She hoped.

    Her approach came entirely unnoticed as the students scattered, keeping the man's attention far away from her. All except one, who went straight up to the shady, theatric-laden villain with polite intent. A gnarled hand, scarred and stiff from ancient damage, set on the girl's shoulder lightly, only vaguely wary of instinctive retaliation. This had only been intended to keep the young woman from trying to get any closer to the cannon-wielding threat. "Projectile is inefficient at close quarters but just as lethal," She reminded, taking a brief moment to measure the air over Eve's head with that same hand, "Aww, you're so tiny." A contemplative look formed briefly, as though trying to figure out what an acceptable height might be. "This isn't a rollercoaster, so I'm stepping in to tell you that as a student of Foresta, this fight is not your responsibility. I may even be forced to write you up for negligence and intentional self-endangerment." Something in her eye twinkled with mischief as she gazed down at the smaller girl, with an implied, 'but...' lingering there.

    With final dismissal, Arwen Kalevere took her place in front of the Academy student in a bodyguard position, which - given the two foot proximity already present - placed her well within the invader's personal bubble. At her side, a strange and fairly unique contraption of interlocking metal arcs and spinning arrays hovered at the ready. Within its constantly moving arms, contained by strict effort, a vibrant red miasma glowed harshly, casting the entire hall in a foreboding light.

    Felt like a fitting sort of atmosphere for a confrontation of this level, if anyone bothered to ask.

    Without another second to waste, although she would be surprised if he remained oblivious of the discussion happening less than two feet behind him, Arwen aimed her fist for his temple. While her fingers may be completely inept, the knuckles were perfectly apt for their purpose. Even in that swing, she reached out with her left towards the glowing ball of light, seizing a hilt as it projected from the weapon's core and straight into her hand with ready anticipation. Her follow up strike would be swift, aiming to disarm, quite literally, before he could turn that over glorified hand cannon (literally) on her or her new favorite red head.

Screams of panic and terror, as teens run away among the smoking debris.
A giant of a man, an ominous figure, carrying menacing firepower that could bring a battalion to their knees.
A brave, if overly brave student, who approaches the figure selflessly.
A dutiful professor, coming to the aid of all those in need, prepared to smite down all that's evil.
A pair of legs, pointing towards the ceiling and twitching, coming out from one of the school's big recycle bins, just a few feet from the scene.

Wait, what?


It was just moments ago, that Ignatius was strolling through the hallway. When he had woken up, a few hours earlier, going outside and having a walk through the sunny meadow had seemed like a good idea. He had even taken out his headphones, taken the time - about ten full minutes, embarrassingly- to untangle the cables, and had been listening to one of his favourite metal bands as he walked. He was sure it would be quite a pleasant day.

And then, explosion. Rumbling sounds. Screams.

And another explosion, followed by another in quick succession. 

Before he knew it, someone from the panicking, stampeding crowd pushed the poor professor-of-sorts, made him lose his balance, and fall into the large recycle bin, head first, followed by his torso and up to his waist, his legs naturally being raised.

"Nope...it will be a crappy day, an irregularly crappy day." the man mumbled, twitching and shifting and making the bin shake with his movements. If anyone looked, they would just see...well, a pair of wiggling and swaying legs, and the bin almost dancing as it shook. How embarrassing. Not the perfect background aspect for a potentially soon-to-be epic battlefield.

    The mysterious, and yet boastful man continued his laughter, as he fired away at seemingly random directions. His mustache twitched gleefully, as he stopped his rampage and admired his handy work. Most of the hall was empty of life with scorch marks and miniature craters on the floors. This man, whoever he is, was about to walk forward until he heard a bothersome little voice pip up right behind him. "Hrmm?"

    He turned to face whoever dared to approach him so casually when a fist made contact his right cheek. The strike forced his head to the left, though the hit might as well be a sudden push then a painful strike. He stood in place as he chuckled, then raised it up to a hearty laugh. "Aha! Zo dere is zomeone vo is villing to challenge me! Zo be it!" he exclaimed as he surprisingly leaped back a few feet and raised his other arm. Mechanical parts and flesh shifted together, and formed a miniature chain gun that was somewhat quite extensive in length. It started to rev up, with it spinning and warming up as he was about to unleash a hefty salvo on his opponents. 

    A woman several inches taller than Eve seemed to appear almost out of no where. Perhaps the cannon fire covered up any sound the blond may by her approach, but the hand that found itself on the red head’s shoulder made her jerk back violently in surprise. Usually, such contact would have her digging through her bag in search of her hand sanitizer, but the situation was far more distracting than one might even think. The woman herself held an air of authority, spoke with it even, which immediately led Eve to believe she was part of the staff here at Foresta. She supposed that made sense. Who else was to subdue the students when they got out of hand like this? Of course, the boy or man, his age seem vague at best…could very well be someone trespassing on school grounds rather than an actual student.

    The unnamed woman managed to compliment, lecture, and defend Eve in a matter of moments while the crazed cannon wielding man continued to blow holes into the entrance hall. Her last words however had Eve’s eyes opening a little wider, the playful threat taken as a serious omen of explosion from school. On her first day no less? Regardless, there was no time for rebuttal, for the woman stepped forward with her weapon already at the draw. Eve could tell the machine was fueled by something odd, something beyond logic, watching as one hand made contact with the boys face and the other grabbed the hilt of another weapon as it seemed ejected from the core of her tech.

    However, this single hit to the face was not enough to the guy down. Rather, all that did was have him jump back and prime his collection of weapons and hone in upon the pair. It was this point Eve understood the very real threat of violence upon her life, and like the machine she mimic shifted from passive to aggressor. Even in the light of day the green glow of her eyes suddenly became rather brilliant, reaching inside herself for the reserve of power. The device planted firmly in the back of her neck began to flash in faster intervals, determining for the most part at what point it was to cut her supply of strength. When the light turned solid not but a second later, the bricks that made up the path, the small trees planted in the landscaping - all were torn from their holds with a surprising viciousness. ”Cease and desist or I will be forced to terminate you.” Her threat was anything but void. As a creature made for war, she responded to violence with violence and would not stop until her target was completely eradicated. Not even saving the other professor stuck in the trash bin crossed her mind.

Violence breeds only violence
A vicious, endless cycle
To what end, other than ruin?
A man who stands before the storm,
A girl who unleashes a blizzard
A woman who must harness the chaos.
A professor who seems oblivious to it all, and thus, the safest. (?)


Professor Jones was still startled, and of course, still inside the big trash bin, with only his flailing legs and shoes showing. A part of his brain was still trying to analyze and comprehend how he had ended up inside said trash bin, while a neighbouring part was sorting out the possible causes for the entire situation. He could only get limited visual information from his position, and that was devoid of real value, since the contents of the trash bin were rather unremarkable, and almost entirely unrelated with the situation at hand.

He could somewhat hear though, over the sound of constant explosion and gunfire. Someone seemed to have apprehended the obvious culprit, one who sported a rather thick, central European accent. Another one had probably issued the aforementioned challenge, though they were talking at a volume that Jones couldn't quite pick up over the ruckus. Two people then?

"I should try to sor-" Jones started mumbling, at the same time trying to wiggle free from the trash bin, but then he paused, feeling the entire bin starting to shake. "That can't be good...." he mumbled to himself, feeling the entire bin getting raised higher and higher. How could someone be lifting it without seeing two obvious legs? In his mind, someone was carrying it, something far from the truth. "Excuse me...you are not supposed to throw other people, professors even!" he pointed out from inside the trash bin, sighing to himself and shaking his head in an almost resigned manner, before resuming his wiggling attempt to freedom. Of course, his tone of voice reflected his tired and resigned psyche, and could only be described as marginally above normal volume.

    The assault did not slow for a moment, long-sword seeking the man's arm with the intent to sever. Instinct guided the combat instructor's pace and distance. She hardly acted with care. With no time to analyze her opponent, she had to remind herself to take in her observations succinctly. The chaingun-wielding threat made no noticeable attempt to dodge, yet her strike had not met its target. A hit surely counted, but her aim had been a concussion, at the least.

    None of his movements belayed agility or enhanced speed, so she advanced with a vigorous series of strikes, focusing on keeping his arm from being brought to bear. Every clash of metal sent auditory shocks throughout the room and her weapon's core made the entire Entrance Hall dance with crimson light and shadows. Maybe she could not focus on severing his arm without potentially giving him time to aim, but she could jam the rotating barrels before they got started.

    Around them, the atmosphere shifted. Tiles snapped, the floor tremored, and the wind swept away. She could sense the impending threat peripherally. A moment before a clash. The silence before the storm. A gale would come, like a crashing wave.

    "Come seeking a challenge?" Either someone came to aid, student or teacher, she remained uncertain, or a new attacker had come into her blind spot. Well, she could at least keep the first's attention on herself. With a heavy strike, she aimed to stagger her current opponent and press past him, grappling with his clothes to keep him off balance. A shame she could no longer angle for jamming his weapon. Once again, instinct guided her past his defenses, but she could hardly take the opportunity to attack, more intent on placing him between her and the new threat. Hopefully, he would be impaled or bludgeoned by whatever force came their way in her stead.