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[Open] Dust in the Tower

#1
"Well, you look like a man who knows how to enjoy himself."

Dust looked up from the growing land mass to into the face of a man who's enjoyed life. He was older, salt and pepper hair, and laugh lines everywhere, which deepen with his friendly smile. With brown eyes, he looks back into Dust's childlike stare. Wolf smiled. "Just taking in the sights." He answered, then turned back around to sit properly in his seat. His back curved to make him appear smaller, but those strong shoulders could hold the world.

"Oh?" The man asked, sitting beside him casually like they were old friends. Dust didn't mind one bit. "What brings you this way?"

Primes had a sense of power about them or something. Hokori couldn't think of any other reason for so many people coming up to him with just the intention of talking to him. He offered the same friendliness though. "I was told the Avengers could help me with something."

"Is that so?" He nodded like old men do when they are sure they know what is going on. "Mind if I ask what the problem is?"

Dust shrugged, but then looked down at his new shoes. They were just old sneakers he remembered having and liking the look of. "I've lost my Doll. It's a bit silly, to be worried about such a thing as that. But since I summoned him, I feel responsible for him. I only hope he was able to survive the ocean like I did."

The old man ran his hand through his chin's stubble and Dust became aware of his own growing facial hair. He'd have to shave, he was pretty shit at growing a beard. "Sounds like something the Avengers could help with. Sure. But what could they do for you, that a strong looking prime like yourself couldn't do on your own?" He questioned.

Dust's hair flopped into his face as he looked lower. "I was hoping they could answer that.." His long fingers make a diamond shape as he stretches them out.  "I lost him in the ocean, doesn't seem like there's much hope, but... I'd feel awful if I not only got someone so helpless killed but also didn't do anything I could to find him if is still out there somewhere." He sat up, looking over his shoulder. "Maybe he washed up on an island, maybe even this one. I hope he's okay..."
[Image: source.gif]
"Centurion: I'll leave you to your work then Dust. Thanks for chatting!
Me: no problem. stay awesome!
Centurion: It's more of a passive ability"
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#2
The fog horn blows and yanks Dust free from his mind. He looked around like he was lost, making the older gentlemen laugh at him. Wolf gives him a sheepish smile, then looks at the closing in island. It was at this point that he reached into his pocket for the map, only to have to stand up at his full height which startled a few people. He started patting away at his pockets. It struck him at the same time the fog horn let out again, that he left the map to the place in the pocket of his shorts that had been stolen...

"Crap..." He managed, as the groups of people began to stand up and slowly mill around him.

The older man stayed. "Did you lose something, son?"

"Yeah... My map."

"Map? You hunting treasure as well as looking for your Doll?"

Dust looked down at the elderly man, frowning and then shaking his head. He couldn't help but laugh. "N-No... I had a map that some people drew for me. Directions to this tower."

"Bah." The man said, waving him off and getting up. Waving him off especially hard when he tried to help him up. "I can take you there. No problem."

"A-Are you sure? I don't want to take up any of your time." Dust argued, trying to be polite but he kind of really wanted the help.

"No waste in time, it's on my way." He assured, then began to leave, stopping to wave the kid to follow. Dust did.
[Image: source.gif]
"Centurion: I'll leave you to your work then Dust. Thanks for chatting!
Me: no problem. stay awesome!
Centurion: It's more of a passive ability"
Reply

#3
A long moment later, they were walking up a road with surprising ease. Which Dust only noted because there was a steep incline on this way, and the older gentleman was not at all huffing or puffing. What did that mean, he may never know, as soon as they reached something that could be accurately described as a tower, the man pointed at it and said, "There you are boy. Just go knock on the front door."

"Wh-What? Really? That easy?" Dust asked, looking away from his new friend to the tower, and then back to where he was. Was. Dust's hair caressed his face as he looked around in desperation, looking for the friendly man he'd met but was met with no one. Confused and only with one direction to go, he slowly approached the place of interest. A security system following him the whole tiem. He moved up to the closest thing that looked like a friendly door and gave the door two solid knocks.

A few moments later a quiet looking older man, who was sporting thining dark hair and a polite face came to the door. He was already looking up, but obviously misjudged how large his guest was. He corrects himself to look in Dust's face. "Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

Dust pulled back his hand, and suddenly became aware of how dirty it was after spotting the spotless outfit on the servant man. He hid it in his pocket. "Uh, yes? I think.. I was looking for The Avengers, and I wasn't sure where to go, but this old man surely must be playing a joke on me... This-"

"This way sir." The butler, later to be known as Jarvis, then stepped aside and gave a respectful bow as his hand pointed the way inside.

Growing up in Japan, he had the urge to bow back, but was distracted by swallowing the lump in his throat. He started to argue, but couldn't find the words. Couldn't push himself to disaggree with the older man. He sighed and stepped in. His slightly damn sneakers from passing puddles squeeked against the floor and the ingrained customs took over. He turned just in time to watch the butler close the door. "Where should I leave my shoes?"

"No need to take them off, I promise you won't even know that you walked through here." He addressed, moving to the hall to show him around, turning to wait for him but obviously though he'd be following her already. "Is there something wrong?"

Dust stopped and looked down at his shoes, then at the ground where piles of shoes should be. "Well, I... In Japan-"

"Oh! My mistake sir! Please forgive my rudeness. I did not realize you were of Nipon heritage." He excuses himself with a lower bow, then goes to retrieve a set of slippers, just large enough for Dust. Or supposedly. He presents them at the edge of the entrance way. "I will take your shoes and put them somewhere safe."

This should have comforted the hulking man, but it only made him more nervous. He nodded, squat down to undo his shoe laces, and then hand them both to Jarvis after taking them off so that he could do that while Dust slipped the slippers on. They were a good enough fit, but squeezed his feet just slightly. When he looked up the man was already coming back from taking care of it. WIth an open palm he directs Dust down the Hall. Dust nodds and follows directions...
[Image: source.gif]
"Centurion: I'll leave you to your work then Dust. Thanks for chatting!
Me: no problem. stay awesome!
Centurion: It's more of a passive ability"
Reply

#4
Another day in the Avengers mansion went as planned, Marcus was still in the middle of a prison riot with the others, while per typical she flew the Avengers from place to place and sat around, twiddling her thumbs. She should be training herself in the fighting ring, but today was a quiet day.

Dr Alphys had come and left a surprise for the Avengers, the old iron suited butler, Jarvis had said and she had checked her com and a hologram popped up of herself. Very interesting technology, could be useful later, she thought.

Then something happened, a knock at the door. That was different. Jarvis was the first one to answer but Blair had sat up, blinking. The man walking in seemed polite enough, asking to take off his shoes in the place.

The Former resistance pilot and now Avenger pilot blinked and turned toward Jarvis as she walked closer to him “Who’s this?”

Jarvis bowed “Sorry for the intrusion, Mr, This is Blair Williams, one of our pilots here, she drives the Quinjet.”

Blair raised an eyebrow and shrugged “So, you want to join the Avengers, stranger?”
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#5
Dust walked at a respectful distance, or would have had they not been cut off by a woman walking in and inquiring about him. Lycan quickly ripped the hat off of his head out of politeness for th lady and then began to smooth out his shaggy shoulder length dark hair. He was much taller than her, taller than even the terminator she worked beside. He bowed gently as a greeting but it was Jarvis who explained who the girl was.

Then she turned her attention on him. "Uhhh.. No." He said running his hand through his hair one last time, out of his eyes. "Well I mean.. I am not against it, but I came here on other matters."

Jarvis held out his hand as an offer to take his hat. Dust's cheeks warmed and he gave the hat over. Instantly regretting it because he didn't have anything to fidget with anymore. He pushed his sleeves higher up past his elbows, rubbing his forarm nervously.
[Image: source.gif]
"Centurion: I'll leave you to your work then Dust. Thanks for chatting!
Me: no problem. stay awesome!
Centurion: It's more of a passive ability"
Reply

#6
Jean-Paul Duchamp or otherwise known as Frenchie whistled an out of tune song as he laid on the helipad's flooring attempted to make repairs on the on the Mooncopter, which sadly didn't seem to work even for anything he did to it. Cramped under the large crescent-shaped aircraft he pried the wrench in his right hand on a large socket located on the engine. Snapping the socket loose black oil began to spew out lathering Frenchie's face in the viscous solution.

"Fils de pute!" Jean-Paul shouted quickly retightening the socket back in place and reaching for his tool-box to grab a rag to whip his. 

"Mister Duchamp, this is Jarvis over the intercom, we have a guest in the lobby I'd advice that you come and introduce yourself." 

"I'll be down there in just a moment mon amie Jarvis! J'espère juste une seconde pour mon travail pourrait être terminé à tout moment." Frenchie said whipping the oil off his face and crawling out from under the Mooncopter. With the rag, the Frenchmen cleaned his hands before making his way towards the tower entrance on the helipad section. Making his way down a hallway Frenchie stopped near the elevator door and called for it. A few seconds later the lift's door opened with a ding, Jean-paul stepped in turning around to face the chute door and pressed the button for the lobby floor. 

Waiting for the sliding steel door to open again and allow him to enter the lobby Frenchie couldn't help but think how Marc and the others were doing. The riot they were dealing with was pretty chaotic and there was no telling how the stormtroopers would react with a group of vigilantes. Frenchie wished them the best of luck even if they could end up being attacked by both sides. The elevator's sliding door opened with another ding signaling Frenchie to exit. Exiting and making his way to the lobby Jean-Paul saw that the new guest and Blair were sitting opposite sides of each other in one of the many tables set in lobby's lounge area.

"Bonjour, bienvenue à notre nouvel invité," Frenchie said speaking in French and taking a seat beside the both of them. 

"Ah, Jean-Paul you have arrived excellent."   

As if right on time  Jarvis came out of the kitchen with a plate in holding cups tea in his hands. Calmly the butler placed the plate of tea on the table before taking his seat, joining them. 

"I do hope earl grey is ample mister Dust?" Jarvis said taking a sip of tea out of his own cup. 

"It'll be fine mister Jarvis, from as I've seen you do well to your guests." 

"It is my duty to serve, now as you were saying earlier, do explain what it is that you are inquiring the help of the Avengers?" 

"Yes, of course." Dust said taking a sip of his tea. 

*

Baron Zemo gazed blankly at the island laid out in front of him. The island was a laughing stock a mockery to his former success if it wasn't for Hydra losing the second world war the so-called Avengers would never exist. The seas salty air breezed past him as the technologically advanced ship he was standing on slowly began to close in on the tower. The Hydra commanders purple masked face's eyes squinted as they set upon what was a memorial for Captain America and several other fallen heroes. 

"Captain Hans."

"Yes, Baron Zemo," Hans said dashing behind the commander. 

"Make sure your men dig up our great Captain America's grave, I want to keep his shield as a souvenir," Zemo said placing both of his hand's behind his back.

"Yes, sir! Hail Hydra!" He shouted raising both his fists in the air. 

"Yes indeed, Hail Hydra." Zemo's eyes narrowed back to the tower.  

"I must thank you and your organization for the armor and weapons Zemo."  

Zemo shifted his head towards Hicmen Cardona who was now standing beside him. Zemo chuckled inside his head at the sight of the foolish boy. It was a very laughable subject to Heinrich due to the fact that it was Hydra that killed his father, not the Avengers, the only thing other than that which made the subject worst was that others had insisted on calling the boy the Black Knight. 

"It was merely nothing, now ready yourself, Blow their front door off its hinges!" 

*

"So as for me asking this would the rest of your team be willing to help me?" Dus said holding his cup out for Jarvis to pour more tea into it.

"I have no doubt in m-" Jarvis' words were completely forced to halt by an explosion that ripped through the lobby's front door. 

The foursome quickly jumped out of their seats turning their eyes towards the smoking rubble. Slowly from the cloud of dust and debris, a rapier pierced through it following by a full a body of a man with a purple hood-like mask attached to his face and chest and soon after another came through this one set with black knight's armor from head to toe. 

"Hello heroic Avengers, it's great to be home a pity the other are not here and to think I had brought presents."
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#7
Blair, looking around the area at Dust for a second before a loud noise pretty much startled the group in question.

Jarvis was just about to ask a normal question when the front door was blown off its hinges and the Quinjet pilot covered her face to avoid any of the fast rubble from hitting her.

“Fuck, NOW what?” Blair managed to curse as a man in a strange skin tight purple mask and then another in black armor managed to get past security defenses.

“Anybody know who THESE Bozos are?”

Frenchie cursed in french “ Ces bozos s'appellent Hydra, les vieux ennemis de Captain America.

Blair sighed and tried to listen to Frenchie, who talked in french. “All I got is that these guys are enemies of Captain America and the division is Hydra.”

Dust hopped up from the couch “Didn’t think these guys would interrupt our party so fast.”

Jarvis frowned “You are not welcome here. “

Blair crossed her arms “You heard the man. Scr-

Baron Zemo frowned “Such impudence, coming from strangers claiming they are Avengers.”
[Image: marcus%20wright%20sig.png]

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#8
Mr. Jarvis scowled, alarms blaring redundantly as the hallway lit red. The other Avengers watched him as he stepped forward in front of the others. They were not accustomed to seeing such fury in his face. Suffice to say, he was the most experienced with Zemo. He had learned to hate the man, as unprofessional and uncouth the emotion was. He looked at the smoldering wall as the Hydra agents detonated their way into the Tower, as they had done so many times in their home world. Then his brow furrowed intensely.

"Speak English when in combat, please, Master Frenchie," Mr. Jarvis said, a slight snarl under his voice, "Or when talking to... an old friend."

In all of the Avengers' earpieces, a female voice declared, "Iron Butler Armor incoming. ETA: 12 seconds."

Baron Zemo chuckled, his mask seeming to melt slightly as his mouth opened to laugh.

"Are you not Stark's butler?" the villain snorted, adjusting the sheathe on his belt, "You are quite foolish to challenge me yourself. No Captain to protect you?"

"The word you are searching for is 'brave,' Zemo," the butler replied, "Though, perhaps, it was indeed foolish of me to not construct more effective defenses for this tower."

"This insolence will not be tolerated!" the man in the purple mask shouted, "Attack!"

Zemo lunged to attack in a flash of black and purple. A similar flash of black and gold intercepted the man's jump, sending Zemo flying down the hall. The back of the Iron Butler suit opened as various plates slid to the side, making way for Mr. Jarvis to enter. He walked in, and the armor closed over him, as blue lights flashed online on the HUD.

"Avengers," the butler said, hovering 10 feet in the air, "If you would kindly assemble."

"What's that mean?" Dust said from behind.

"It means 'Allons-y!'" Frenchie said, whipping out his pistol and firing several shots at the HYDRA agents.

"How does that clarify things at all?!" Dust exclaimed, ducking behind a nearby piece of rubble.

"English, please, Master Frenchie."

The man in the black armor leapt up to Mr. Jarvis' height and slashed at the arc reactor in his armor. The Iron Butler AI barely had enough time to propel Mr. Jarvis backwards to dodge the attack.

"The Black Knight," he commented, "If you don't mind, I think I'll be handling this gentleman."

Sounds of gunfire filled the air as combat fully engaged. He fired two repulsor beams from his palms at two HYDRA agents who were taking aim at him. They flew back as the Black Knight made another lunge, his blade glowing a heated crimson shade, as if it was just removed from the forge. This time, it made contact with the shoulder plate, showering the firefight below with sparks and denting the armor. Mr. Jarvis felt the heat of the blade pressing on his right shoulder.

In that time, the Black Knight had spun around and gone for a second blow. The butler promptly raised his left hand and blasted the Black Knight's hands, forcing the swordsman to drop his blade. Using his right boot jet, he spun and delivered a kick to the warrior's head, sending him flying. The butler then blasted both rocket-boots, chasing and catching the Black Knight mid-flight.

"Master Whitman?" the butler said, "Might I ask why you are working with HYDRA?"

"YOU KILLED HIM!" he roared.

"If I may ask who it is you are referring-"

The Black Knight cocked his head back. The HUD alerted Mr. Jarvis to the incoming attack, but before he could react, the headbutt connected, sending the butler reeling back. He felt the attack through the impact compensators.

The Iron Butler spun in the air for a brief second before he caught himself with the repulsors. The Black Knight glared at him from under his ebony helmet.

"Please calm yourself, and let us discuss this more calmly among-"

Mr. Jarvis' attention was then brought to a notification on his HUD: the announcement that Captain Rogers' shield was currently spiraling towards him.

With a simple repulsor blast, Mr. Jarvis knocked it out of the sky. The butler rushed down to pick it up again. Several bullets clanged against his armor uselessly as he snatched it.

"I'll be taking this back now, sir."

He turned slightly and noticed one of the HYDRA soldiers pointing a rocket launcher at him. In a panic, the Iron Butler raised the shield to protect him against the blast. Even with the propulsive jets on his back, he felt himself being knocked back quite a distance.

"I don’t mean to be rude, sirs and lady, but when I said I would handle Master Whitman, I was under the impression that you would distract the others-"

"Pour l'amour de Dieu, we are trying, Monsieur Jarvis!" Frenchie yelled over the comms.

The other Avengers were attempting to bottleneck the HYDRA troops in that hole in the wall, but while Mr. Jarvis was attempting to detain the Black Knight, HYDRA had already opened another aperture into the tower with another explosion. The Iron Butler dipped down, soaring above the small militia and blasting as many troops away as he could.

At that moment, the Iron Butler AI alerted him to two tanks that were somehow rolling up the hill that the tower rested on. This was highly unfortunate. They needed some stronger firepower.

"Ms. Williams, if you would retrieve the Quinjet?"

"It's not ready to fly, Mr. Jarvis," the pilot shouted over the gunfire.

The Iron Butler shot to the skies once more, launching a wrist missile at one tank. He used the shield to cover himself from the next tank shell, using the other repulsor to damage it. In the sunlight, the shield gleamed.

"That's mine, foolish dog," Baron Zemo glowered from among the HYDRA masses, "Mr. Cardona, are you going to let this old man defeat you?"

With a roar, the Black Knight leapt into action from behind the butler, blade whirling in a flurry of smoldering metal. Unable to respond in time, the Iron Butler fell this time to the ground, landing in the dirt in a painful crash. Feeling his arm break due to it holding the shield, Mr. Jarvis shouted in pain. The Black Knight, without skipping a beat, snatched it, accentuating the horrifying pain in Mr. Jarvis' old arm.

The butler promptly lifted himself up. He dodged another slash from the Black Knight, using his good arm to punch the warrior in the stomach. In the brief pause that the punch bought him, Mr. Jarvis snagged the shield and tugged on it. The Black Knight held on, and the two pulled on the shield for a moment. Finally, the Black Knight let go, allowing Mr. Jarvis to fall backwards a little. Seizing on the opportunity, the Black Knight slammed down on the shield with both hands, smacking it out of the Iron Butler's.

Mr. Jarvis blasted the swordsman's weapon from his hand before the Black Knight could go for another strike. The Black Knight then tackled Mr. Jarvis to the ground, who magnetized his armor, causing most magnetic objects in the direct vicinity to stick to him, including the shield. Still pinned below the Black Knight, he straightened his arm to catch it, then brought his elbow down on the Black Knight's helmet. Weaponless, the Black Knight raised the shield and brought it down on the Iron Butler's mask. Having learnt from the last time this happened, the armor instinctively blasted once more at the Black Knight's face, throwing him back.

When the Iron Butler finally managed to rise after that brutal fist-fight, he saw the Black Knight standing over him, burning Ebony Blade in one hand and indestructible shield in the other.

"Oh dear," he muttered.
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#9
One moment Dust was drinking early Grey tea - not a breakfast tea like he thought, but something with more of a bite than that - the next he was ducking behind an overturned table while the guy who was introduced as 'Frenchie' cursed - or at least Dust assumed it was cursing - in French while he provided firepower to the old man. This baffled the Contractor, until the suit of connected with him and he became something like out of a mecha anime. He tried asking what was going on, but between the gun fun and the smart-mouth of the French speaker that was hopeless. Honestly the one he imagined giving him any answers to what was happening around him was standing up against some kid with a sword.

Burst fire chased Wolf back behind the surprisingly sturdy table, one he imagined they reinforced for just this occasion. Beside him was the pretty, but young -look who's talking- woman that had introduced herself as Blair. Without any control, his thoughts turned quickly to his payment. Kissing a girl was preferable, if only because he's spent years not doing it.  When he looked over to try to explain the simple fact that he needed a kiss to fight, she was gone once more. Another explosion sounded somewhere in the tower, he imagined the second team was here to either pin them down or do whatever it was these people were here to do.

Also without any control, his mind started flipping through his memories like flashcards in the hands of a quick study.

***

Dust felt his jaw crack under the pressure of the metal chair as it slammed into his head, the ringing of the metal resonated with the ringing in his head. Yes, he did feel the pain of fracture splitting his jaw in potential two, but did he feel the pain of being a 'bad dog'? His head lulled around, and his mind sloshed as if he'd drunk a whole bottle of sake, or worse - a bottle of vodka. His hair was just getting choppy and reached halfway down his ears. He looked up with cold and calculating eyes, blood running down one temple and sweat pouring down his almost naked body. He tried to say something despite the language barrier between his Japanese and their Russian, but the pain in his jaw as it tried to move told him and his inner calculator that it was best to remain silent. Giving up... His head slowly lowered, before finally snapping limply in a very 'give up' kind of way. Body language went beyond words, they let him sit there while his head throbbed for a few days.

-

"SW-808!" The Russian was harsh, and yet somehow familiar to his ears. They were just letters and numbers, but Dust knew he was being called on. His dull, lifeless, crimson eyes stared at the surrounding scenery while his inner calculator worked out the problems that would come up if he did not answer. Then he calculated the benefits for not answering. This calculator was in his mind, it did not have numbers so much as it has graphs, and they were really more like pro vs. con lists. Really it was more like a spreadsheet, but honestly, it was a lot like a menu. It was none of these things, and yet all of them. And none of it all meant anything because it was very much as instant as a thought. It was a thought. For a Contractor, it was just thinking. It took a long while for him to get used to just knowing how bad of an idea something was just by thinking about it.

He pulled his long arms off the railing and began to slowly approach the commanding officer.

That man, that unorganized sloppy man was so pissed off he'd taken an extra moment, that he slugged the taller creature as soon as he came in. Dust never figured out what he'd wanted originally.

-

"Kill him.." Dust's keeper demanded, lighting up a cigarette with a silver Zippo lighter he stole from the American.

"I have been forced to think that I should not." Dust said, trying to convey his thoughts in the limitedness of the language he only new pieces too. "It is not a good thought. It is not smart." The American, a blond-haired soldier no older than Dust could understand him, but not the bigger group. He stared into Dust's dead eyes and hoped for the man's mercy. "He is not scary, he is baby without strength to kick the womb."

The whole room began to laugh as if Dust made a joke. What was funnier than that, was the idea of a contractor of all things, making a joke. His keeper took a long drag off the smoke as he walked over to the bare-chested man, then with a hot end, he carefully pressed the cigarette into Dust's flesh. Dust pulled back, admitting it hurt before touching it with his hand. His keeper then repeated himself, with a darker and demanding tone. "Kill. Him."

The American understood that, but Ookami didn't understand the circumstances. "He is but a babe."  Dust said, repeating himself, looking up. Confusion in his eyes.

His keeper just glared a whole into Lycan, until it bore into him just like the lit end of the cigarette. "FK-653. Kill." The keeper said, putting the filter back into his mouth. Hokori then watched as the horror-stricken American's blue eyes widen with fear as another contractor came into view. He pulled the gun out of his holster, aimed for the American's head - between the eyes - and squeezed the trigger confidently.

-

Volk pressed his body against the half existing wall of a building that his side had turned to rubble, all around him machine guns rattled across the air, gunpowder and blood seeped into his nose, the sound of citizens dying mercilessly flooded his senses... And yet he focused fully on his mission. The youngest - only really - Hoshi would not be distracted by his surroundings, he would not fear death, we weren't permitted to. Death was not a punishment, nor was it a saving grace. It was just a negative conclusion to his calculator. Internally he knew this was a bad idea, but his conditioning told him to ignore the superior risk. He was to find Ferdinand, kill him, and then fetch his research. He's been told it was a briefcase and that there were three people guarding him. Last time he failed to do as he'd been told because of the calculations, he'd been starved for a week and beaten every day. Best to follow orders...

Dust stepped into the battlefield, and a moment later a grenade was tossed his way.

***

The piercing sound of a tank's missiles left a high pitched buzz in his ears. It brought back the worse kind of memories... Even more so, the worse kind of thinking...

He skipped grabbing the sides of his head, knowing that wouldn't stop the annoying ringing. He counted himself lucky to even be able to hear at that moment and looked around. The Frenchman was pinned behind a half-existing wall, the woman was nowhere to be found, and the mecha-butler was on his back and fighting to keep some mythical shield out of the hands of the kid who'd been in an uproar earlier. He didn't know the significance of the silver, blue and red rounded shield but he became very aware that it should not be in the hands of the blade-wielding whelp. He had no earthly idea who this group was and why they were attacking the base of a group of people who seemed to be promising good things, but he knew how he could help.

He looked around, his payment always on his mind when making decisions like this one, but found that it would be riskier to jump one of his companions than it would be to react to the situation. Not only did it risk his safety and theirs, but risked his potential alliance with them. He shook his head, unable to hear his own thoughts over the ringing, but he didn't need to know this was a bad idea. 

When it look like the guy in the.... - What was that? Red? Blue? Purple? The color-blind man couldn't tell you. - When he appeared to be ready to go in some typical bad guy monologue, Dust readied himself. Dark maroon coloring appeared from his fingers to his elbows in am ombre like effect, as if his skin changed color with different temperatures and it just got hot where he was, at the same time a large fluffy dark maroon colored tail appeared in mid anticipated wag. Wolf didn't seem to notice, even when the wolvern ears lifted from the nest of hair on his head, he gritted his elongated teeth, which fit like jagged puzzle pieces, and then with blinding speed he leaped into the air and over his hiding spot, at them.

Quote:SP Used: 1 of 4(In case it matters)
Tier 1 Power-Up: Puppy
A pair of wolf ears lift from the layers of Dust's messy hair, and a tail springs to existence in the appropriate place. From fingertip to elbows, and toes to knees, the skin turns dark maroon. 
(For the duration: A Pup's Bite/Claw and Wolf's Tail are 'active'. As in, he has claws, sharp teeth, and a tail to utilize. He has to pay the costs for each use)
-The cost for this is a simple kiss that lasts 9 seconds at least. (Can be done before, during, or after fight)
ATK: 4
DEF: 4
SPD: 3
TEC: 4

A blur of dark brownish-red flashed beyond ther each of any gun, and a moment later Dust was on the apparent leader of the group: Zemo. Already Dust could feel the dragging of claws through his mind, his inner wolf seems to be stronger today than it has ever been, but he knew just how to sooth the inner beast. The hulking man landed upon the purple masked man and razor sharp claws slice through the simple fabric of the mask. One moment Hokori Hoshi was enjoying a cup of hot tea, ready to ask for help in finding Hoseki. The next he was locking lips with a man he didn't know in the least, and holding him there for 15 seconds.

Quote:Over-Powering Kiss
Requires: Physical Strength,  Burst Movement, Survival - And the permission of the writer, but not necessarily the characters. 
Dust cannot complete his payment without some force, using his strength and sometimes his speed to trap his target by tackling and/or pinning them down, to initiate a kiss lasting between 3 and 30 seconds with the person. 
This leaves him vulnerable for the duration of the kiss to any outside force - including any ability the targeted creature can use while pinned and under someone - but effectively binds the person under his body. 
The person under him gains full cover from attacks made by anyone else in the area, as Dust purposely makes himself a shield to the target he is kissing. 
After the duration of the kiss, if he survives, he can use any combination of his other moves as long as it equals out in seconds. (For example, Pup's Bite and Pup's Claw both use a 3-second kiss, and require at least a 6-second kiss to use both once; 9 seconds will let him use one 3 times, or a combination of the two moves three times.)

Added bonus: He's not that bad of a looker.

In that time, the apparent flunkie of the two, Black Knight, turned around to see Zemo struggling against this unknown figure, which was hard to see past the swishing wolf tail.
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"Centurion: I'll leave you to your work then Dust. Thanks for chatting!
Me: no problem. stay awesome!
Centurion: It's more of a passive ability"
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#10
Blair’s earpiece was screeching as she was scrambling to get the Quinjet ready in this time of
chaos. Then Jarvis’s voice replied through the the wireless device in her ear “Is the Quinjet ready, Blair?”

Blair was frustrated and was trying her best to get the giant airplane ready as her final checks were about done.

As soon as she made sure all preparations were ready, she started the Quinjet up to speed and said in her earpiece as the jet finally whirred to life “ It’s sweet, Jarvis..”

Blair frowned “BOYS, LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!... “

(Sweet, military pilot slang for it's up and ready)
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#11
The large man, now some sort of wolf pawed for Zemo as they struggled on the hard ground. Both aimed to try and flip over and deal a killing blow but they only struggled, even more, the half man half beast drooling over the baron's purple mask only made him angrier. 

Their insolence would be the death of them! 

Those very words ran through his head as he strained the blade in his right hand upwards while his left did the same. 

"Get your paws off me you filthy mutt!" Zemo shouted his shaking from the werewolf’s strength and pressure. "How dare you violate my mask with your putrid lips, you will die for such an act!"      

What was now Dust only snarled louder his razor sharp claws etching close to Zemo's mask. Zemo pushed even harder, he would not have some beast from mere fairy tales be the end his existence. With a heave of effort, the Hydra commander bent his legs back and propelled the wolfman several inches above him before forcefully kicking it to off him. Quickly recuperating from the struggle, Zemo instantly flipped back to his feet and raising his blade to level with himself reeling his left hand behind him. Positioning the posture in his hips and arching his legs the rapier was sent jabbing for Dust, keeping him at bay. Pressing the attack Zemo went for another attack this time the blade quickly slicing to the right with a small but deadly cut. The jumped several feet back before charging after the master swordsmen. Baron Zemo simply and with haste dodged the wolf's attack spinning around before with a twist pushing the blade and cutting into his back. 

Howling from the pain the beast turned back to Zemo barking with hate. Rushing back for the masked man in a blur of red and black, Zemo was just able to vault over the Wolfman. Landing feet first on the ground Zemo witnessed the man direct rage-filled charge for Black Knight instead. In a small spec of time, Black Knight was only able to yank the shield from Jarvis' hands and fling it back to Baron Zemo before being tackled to the ground by Dust. With another howl, Dust lifted the armored swordsmen by his feet and swung him into one of the various burning tanks and began to repeatedly beat his claws into his armored chest.

Catching the shield with his left hand Zemo turned his masked gaze to observe the glorious carnage that ravaged the entire landscape that surrounded the Avengers tower. It was HYDRA’s battle, theirs for the win and taking. The full roster of the team distracted by a prison riot and far from the Vasty Deeps spies set their places waiting for the order. For how much he hated the American Zemo had to thank Captain America for the great gift had given them, for without the living legend Omniverse’s HYDRA would have never been born. 

“Baron Zemo, we have the computer files and the bombs are set in place and primed. All need do is press the activation switch, just as you commanded earlier.”  A HYDRA soldier chimed in Zemo’s earpiece. 

“Good. Now take a few men and prepare the teleporter our time to departure is soon.” 

“Zemo!” 

The Baron’s transfixed gaze shortly ended with the sight of Jarvis slowly landing in front of him. Zemo’s eye narrowed but he was deeply thrilled, even if the Iron Butler could defeat Heinrich it would not matter, their precious Avengers tower could face major interior damage by only the press of a button. 

“This battle is far from over, if you think this is a victory for you then you are truly a blind man. The full mettle of the team will come for you!” Jarvis shouted raising his hand at level with Zemo’s permanent masked face, the arch blaster humming with immense energy. 

Bringing Captain’s shield close to his head and pointing his blade to Jarvis Zemo’s feet sidestepped cautiously, he circled around Jarvis until his back was to the tower. 

“No Jarvis, this battle, this war is far from over. It must hurt every last one of you that your dear old Captain America is dead and it must bring you more pain that he died by all of your hands.” Zemo lightly chuckling raised both hands to the air, coincidentally an explosion rocked behind him. “As far as my eyes can see this very battle in your very home is HYDRA’s for the taking, not you and the Avenger nor Doctor Doom or Thanos can stop us, All of your petty hope is lost!" 

Behind his metal mask, Jarvis' face sneered in pure anger, his gauntleted left hand clinching as his suits AI played several scenarios and statistics on how to defeat the old villain. None of the data looked very good, all chances of success were slim and most lead to some form of heavy loss. It didn't matter to Jarvis anyhow part of being an Avenger was the probability of being beat. 

Like a speeding bullet, the Iron Butler jumped into the air with his armors flight system pushing out his hands together with his hand's arc reactor shooting out a massive burst of blue energy that rushed for Zemo with powerful force. Without a second thought, Zemo brought his old enemies shield close to the front of his purple masked face. The vibranium shield completely absorbed the blast as they both clashed together, the plasmic energy fusing into it generated sparks that fell hot near Zemo's boots.     


Pressing on, Jarvis maneuvered his body downwards diving for Zemo. Zemo's only reaction was to clash his rapier down on top of Jarvis who stopped the blade in result sacrificing a bit of his arm plating. Both the clash of the blade and Jarvis' gauntlets created sparks that flashed upon contact. Quickly the armored butler pushed the sharp blade off and propelled himself forward for a hard right hook that Zemo caught with a twist of his sword. Jarvis continued, his left hand making its mark into Heinrich's gut. With a heavy grunt, Baron Zemo reeled back before swiping Captain Roger's shield hard into the Iron Butler's steel mask leaving a dent. The attack was soon followed by the Baron's rapier raking across his armored chest causing a large gash in the suits arc reactor and with another flip of his blade, Zemo sliced into Jarvis' right thigh plate forcing him to kneel on the ground.    

Taking a few steps back keeping his sword pointed at the butler Zemo phoned for a strike from the cursor that they arrived in's heavy cannon.  

Jarvis struggled to try to pick himself up his feet and hands fumbling on the ground but his attempt was in vain. "You think you've won but you must know the others will come for you, they will destroy HYDRA," Jarvis said his steel mask's eyes locked on the Baron's. 

Zemo let out a loud cackle raising his hands in the air as a giant cannon ripped through the tower's roof only leaving an open chunk of what was and fire. 

"You fool, you fail to see that this is my ultimate victory. I am victorious! There is no Captain America no Tony Stark or Fantastic Four to save you or the others at the Imperial prison! HYDRA will rule this very Omniverse with an iron fist!" Zemo shouted as the towers giant A came crashing to the ground causing the whole island to rumble.   

Zemo lowered his hands and  brought himself close to the Iron Butler his rapier on his throat. 

"Tell me Stark's butler how does it feel to know that no one will avenge you?"
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#12
Mr. Jarvis glared, his scowl somehow translating to the dented mask around his face. He pondered how he was going to die. Given the incident with that golden coin, it was highly likely that he was a Prime and would be reincarnated. However, this was unclear with the others. And the tower that he had sworn to protect was in shreds around him.

He gazed at the tower's "A" in the sand, considering it as sparks flew from the broken lights. The left leg of the letter was heavily crushed by the fall, and the other threatened to snap in half under the weight of the sign. The ring that once surrounded it fell soon after, crushing the "A" completely.

Mr. Jarvis closed his eyes. Frankly, he was surprised that he was so upset. Avengers property was destroyed enough times to compete with Professor Xavier's academy. But this time, he was in charge. This was on him. All the things he considered his new home these past years, falling around him...

Including a white crescent aircraft that Mr. Duchamp had been attempting and failing to turn on.

Both Mr. Jarvis and Baron Zemo glanced up, their instincts telling them something was above them. They promptly leapt out of the way, hugging the sand as the aircraft crumbled and divided the two combatants. The white metal emitted a loud crashing noise as it crumpled into wrinkles, and the engine exploded in a small, contained detonation within its hull, launching some shrapnel into the sky.

Mr. Jarvis struggled up, the Iron Butler's mask hanging by a few wires. His age began to show in his now unmasked face.

"Remove armor."

The Iron Butler suit's spine released, and the armor plates thumped into the sand. Burns and cuts were appearing on Mr. Jarvis' arms, and his clothes were a little torn.

Mr. Jarvis took off his jacket and folded it, placing it in a relatively clean part of the beach. He tugged at his bowtie, which came loose almost instantly. Undoing his cuffs, the butler folded his sleeves up until they reached above his elbows, revealing the cut on his forearm.

Baron Zemo was back up again, his left arm seeming a little injured, presumably from that collapse of the Mooncopter. He looked incredulously at the butler.

"That's the thing, Baron Zemo," Mr. Jarvis said, his voice suddenly incredibly calm, "I don't need armor to avenge myself."

Mr. Jarvis stepped forward, raising his fists in a traditional boxing posture. The supervillain across him laughed.

"You're going to box a swordsman?" Zemo chuckled, "Very well."

Nearby, the Quinjet soared very low over the ground, the plane inexplicably unable to escape gravity sufficiently. Mr. Dust was in intense combat with the Black Knight.

The Avengers were losing.

Mr. Jarvis stepped forward to throw his punch.
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#13
Dust was programmed to handle groups of people, this was the same song and dance he'd experienced for the past 10 years of his life. Armies sending their best to fight him and nearly him alone. He was used to not having any more people around him than he did now, but something deep inside his existence felt something was missing. It had to be the fact that he had no commanding officer telling him what to do. He wasn't used to so much freedom, though he was plenty of used to the chaos and having more insight on the situation of battle than his keeper. The purple pajama wearing guy seemed hell-bent on fighting Jarvis, so the least Hokori could do was keep the odds even. He grabbed the kid by the ankles and slammed him against the burning tank. He heard metal impacting metal with some satisfaction and then came the muffled confusion of the man he'd just dazed. His claws came down across his chest and raked down them, he felt the same sensation through his mind as the inner beast crawled forth. He realized rather quickly that his kiss had been fruitless. It mattered little, as he tore into the man's chest with elongated black nails. Proof of the wounds came in the form of blood following the forceful pull of his claws and splattering all over Dust.

There was a moment when death was just a claws strike away, and that was when Dust stopped. With no one to demand the final blow, the werewolf found himself not as willing to take the life of other men.

How strange... For a man who is used to having no will, to find something even in battle he was not accustomed to liking. In his moments of clarity, he was satisfied that he had some humanity left in him. Even after all the abuse, after all the reprogramming and reconditioning, he was a human at heart. He felt relieved as he stepped away, and the young man - whoever he was - fell face first into the sands of the island. Badly injured and effectively out of this fight, but alive. That is when the cannons fired once more, the ears in his hair folded back as he tensed up and braced himself for the impact - only a small part of him questioning if he could take a large firearm like he used to be able to before he actually did. Only he did not, instead, the shells shot over him. High into the sky before impacting the A's shaped tower, bright orange-yellow balls of energy formed rapidly in several places on the letter and lit up muggy morning sky, casting several shadows behind the beastly shaped man. Wolf had to raise his clawed hands to protect himself from the brightness of it.

When he looked again the tower fell in ruins, large chunks of the buildings just collapsed while other parts still tumbled down in pieces. His breathing was heavy and his heart was racing, and somewhere in his mind that still ached with the need for payment he understood that this situation was increasingly becoming problematic... He needed to pull one of his calculated tricks out of his tail, and in a hurry.

Dust leaped up to the tank and surveyed the situation, accustomed to taking in information quickly and forming at least two plans. One that would work excellently with minimum damage to him and his side, and the second one being a very stupid idea that would ensure victory but tended to leave him in need of medical assistance. His keeper always picked the last one, and the young Hoshi didn't like to admit it but it got results. He noted very quickly that no one shot at the large man hanging off the tank that was in flames. No one, despite the additions to his outer body saw him a threat. It didn't occur to Dust that it was simply because he was much more adorable in appearance this way than he was intimidating.

Meanwhile, he did hear gunshots going off, in the distance. He saw a bit of flash fire from nozzles of the firearms, he could hear the Frenchman cursing and going on, more angrily than ever over his own fire rate. SW-808 didn't understand what the man said, but he understood his frustration and his predicament. He saw Jarvis and the man before fighting at the bottom of the hill in the distance, just before something that looked like the moon dropped out of the sky and nearly onto the two of them. He held his breath while the clouds of sand settled and he saw two figures once more, one being smaller than before. He watched the man, Zemo flourish his blade once more, and Jarvis prepared for an all-out duke it to the end. He could respect that.

He did.

Well, Dust had his really stupid idea, now for something intelligent. The smart thing would be to collect his companions and run. They needed to escape this carnage before there was nothing to escape from, no one to escape. Except he was missing one in particular, and that was just of the people he knew of. Who was left in the smoldering embers of the building, if anyone? His calculator screamed that it didn't matter. To save his own skin would be the prime choice, and he could. But that was the thing about having control of your own desires, emotions tended to get in the way of logic. In short, he couldn't be selfish. He wanted to save Jarvis, he wanted to save Frenchie. He wanted to save Blair, wherever she was.

So stupid idea it was.

Dust found himself a solid point on the tank, the heat of it was already working on turning his shoe's soles into s'mores, but it wouldn't matter in a few moments. He felt his toes spreading as he found the right placement for his leap. Bending his knees and lowering his body in preparation the contractor focuses his energy into his legs. A moment later, he uses so much force against the tank that he leaves paw prints into the metal.

Like a cannon of his own, Volk flung his body into the chaos that was the fight. His mass slammed into Zemos, causing him the skip across the sand like a stone over a pond. Meanwhile, Hokori fell into the sand where he twisted and then dove for Jarvis, pinning him to the ground while a spray of sand clattered against his back. “Sorry about this!” Was his only warning to the older man before he forced a kiss upon him

He heard the man’s surprise, but the butler was polite enough to hold still for the 15 seconds. Dust counted them as slowly as he could to make sure the beast inside was satisfied. He’d realize later that it was mere habit that he held him down for 15 seconds, but very quickly here he’d be thankful for the set-in habit.

It had truly been a long time since he heard the sound of a wolf growling in his mind, too long has it only been the feeling of its claws digging into his mind for control. Part of him understood all this symbolism wasn’t coincidental. Inside he understood, he just wanted to hold onto the freedom a little bit longer. On instinct he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. It was admittedly uncomfortable and awkward, he could only imagine Jarvis’ confusion… He was thoroughly embarrassed himself, ashamed, and but kind of sort of liked it on a level he didn’t quite understand just yet.

By this time their guest has already gotten up and charged, stabbing through Dust’s side in an attempt to distract the mongrel from whatever silly notion he was trying to pull off with all this making out. How dare he ignore him to lip lock with Jarvis of all people! He heard the muffled groan of pain as the blade slid into his body, but the muscular man was dedicated to this ridiculous action. He watched as blood began to quickly spread through the shirt, soaking into the checkered pattern of the man’s shirt with some wicked delight.

Dust tensed up as Zemo pulled the blade out, but if he was going to ignore the great and powerful - and now victorious - man that was Zemo, then he shall be punished relentlessly. He stabbed him twice, thrice, and one more time for good measurement. Each gash left a small hole but the blood poured from his body. He felt the heat of his life warm his side, but Dust still did not pull away until he finally reached 15.

The hulking man ripped himself off of Jarvis’ lips to backhand Zemo back across the sand, heavily breathing and with wild eyes.

Jarvis finally chose to spoke. “Master Dust… I would like to have a word with you. When we are done here.”

Dust kept his eyes on Zemo. “I’ll explain later as well, for now… Get to the others.” He did not look at Jarvis, instead, he stood up, eyes glaring at the one in purple.

He lifted his hands to his head as the pupils of his eyes flash bright and red, leaving Zemo confused and slightly distracted because he was not done with the Ironman Butler. No matter, sometimes you must put the dog down first. He approached the man with obvious intent and cockiness. “You think that you can dare to defeat me? If you wanted to make me laugh then you would only need to let me see you all perish! But that is for another time, sadly we already have what we came for. So, for now, I'll settle for your ultimate humiliation." At this, he meant to stab clean through Dust once more, but stopped on instinct, hesitated…

He both watched and heard as the first bone broke. Dust’s right calf just snaps in two, forcing everyone watching to wince at the brutality of breaking a bone in your leg. As well as the towering man to falter.

Wolf continued to summon the beast within, as the left shoulder spontaneously popped out of the socket with a horrific crack he focused on the pure light in front of him, an illusion of something he’s always to be considered his moon. It made the pain more bearable. He clenched his fist while the other arm fell limp, for but a moment. Then Zemo would watch - because he could not look away - as the muscle expanded in the triceps first, the shoulder swelled - ripping the shirts to pieces so that you could see the skin that darkened, the forearm snapped in two - no three - places before the something expanded in it grossly. The fingers stretched out and the nails hardened, turned black, his skin started to turn color, blotches of maroon at first - looking like a plague had gotten him and was spreading rapidly.

The muscles in Dust’s neck expanded as he looked like he was yawning, in a very animalistic way as he shook his head. To the right, then to the left, and as he twisted it to the right again the jaw popped out of place, his jaw bone snapping and jutting out, teeth began to elongate and grow. His ears were the only thing that didn’t elongate so much as they moved upward and pointed upwards. The cupid’s bow above his lip turned black and split in a snarl of pain but he did not make a sound.

His right leg muscles bulged sickly, splitting the leg straight up to the waist. His skin was dark maroon, fur slowly consuming the messy bruised area. His heel lifted as the growth of his toes fanned out the bottom of his foot, the shoe he’d summoned turning to shreds as well. So when the bones mend due to his super-natural healing factor, he stood on wolvern legs. Or will. The left leg began the same process, ripping through the fabric of his pants, shoes, and socks. His right arm follows the same pattern, breaking bones, swelling muscles, new joints and fortified limbs.

His chest has expanded and curved, but not without ever rib at once snapping outwardly. Without breaking the skin they grow, and grow, and grow until he has enough room for his needy lungs.

Thick dark maroon, brownish red, fur settles, at the same length as his hair, turning the presentable male into a fully fluffed out werewolf. His eyes now crimson red, his maw ajar and letting out extremely hawt breath escape in puffs of steam.

Zemo began with one step, slowly and backing away from the creature that was now 8 feet in height, almost as wide, and while the fur did well to disguise the muscle underneath, the crowd of people who had watched this transformation knew just how terrifying his strength could potentially be. He took another step, despite being in the sighs of this… This beast. Dust’s legs flexed, and the king of this raid quickly became the coward.

Sheathing the sword Zemo puts out new orders, to protect him until he can be teleported out, and then he dove into the crowd. Zemo vanished physically, but Dust could smell him, could smell his fear. That didn’t stop him from being slowed down by a crowd of otherwise nameless secondaries. Ten men raised their heavy machine guns and began firing as soon as possible. Dust crossed his arms, not to shield himself but the man that was still behind him. “Jarvis.” He barked as the spray of bullets penetrated him over and over.

The butler was dumbfounded, if only momentarily, how many people can say they’ve met a werewolf now of these days? He came to his sense though, quickly, and holding some of his fallen armor as a shield darted away from the storm of bullets and heading to nab Frenchie.

When Dust was sure the man he kissed was safe, Wolf let out a snarling howl to frighten them. His fur color did well to hide the fact that he was bleeding heavily, but Hokori wasted no time and began to attack the horde.

If this were a bunch of normal people who just had a bad choice in life it would not take nearly as long, but between the guns and the other countless weapon types, the martial artist and some guy who kept dodging him it took too long for Dust to cut the group down. It probably did not help that he chose to do it all as non-lethally as a raving werewolf could.

As the lycanthrope Prime dealt with the fodder, Jarvis and Frenchie were able to get back in touch with Quinjet. Both were relieved that she did not die in the explosions brought on by the other side of this fight.

Wolf stood among a group of downed people, his chest heaving, his shoulders moving with every breath. He stopped. Zemo, from behind his last defense, which was a handful of soldiers he’s instructed to not move for the duration of the wait, watched as the hungry looking wolf turned to face him. The eight-foot monster turned on its paws, heavily wounded on either side. And yet it's done nothing to slow him down.

Dust moved with purpose but slowly as they moved closer. His claws covered in just as much blood as he has bled. Time ticked away in the form of bullets upon his men’s brow, but the remained motionless under the order of Zemo as this monstrous creature crept toward them. Wolf paused as he smelt the strong scent of urine.

He growled, unpleasantly, and then reached past them to rake at Zemo’s face once more. Only for his claws to whiff through rays of rainbow lights of their teleportation, streams of gold glittering violet slipping through his fingers. He could still hear the frantic heartbeat of a man that just escaped death, pounding through his ears…


With the battle won the Contractor’s reasoning was confirmed. That was a stupid… Stupid move. The reversion of his body’s transformation from its Wolf state left his body feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Dust stumbled back weakly, his human form now full of bloody holes and only just barely modest. Crimson soaked through the rags of his body, oozed out of almost all of the wounds, yet a quarter of them were already healing. He was heavily wounded, exhausted, and could still feel the twisting in his mind that told him he needed a kiss.

While the fires slowly burned out and the wounded laid where they fell, the half-naked man known as Dust moved towards his only companions, seeking out their pity in the form of a kiss. As he wandered back to the only people he expected help from, his mind drifted back to the only thing he could remember about the train ride. He had woken briefly and found his head cradled in her lap. As a contractor, he didn’t have much of an opinion at the time, but now he kind of liked the idea...
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