"No, you're not a good reason at all." Jane said, turning to look at Alex. "Now, if you excu-" She suddenly went quiet upon seeing Alex, her face losing some color.

Alan saw this as a perfect chance to get out of here, as he turned around and walked off. Alex could handle her, he was sure. Of course, when he turned around, he found himself facing Ira and Hannah, and he figured he should say something. "So, do you always stand around like dolts when a person is being threatened?" He asked, covering up his mouth as soon as the last word left his mouth. "U-uh...I mean...s-sorry!" He waved his hands in front of his face, which was now red, realizing there was no good reason to be impolite. Even though they technically did stand around. No reason to call them dolts, that was just rude. "I...I should be going now. E-Excuse me." He gulped, trying to move past the two, an idea popping into his head as he subconsciously tried to make himself seem smaller by slouching. "I....I think I'll just keep going. I could probably make it to some type of shelter before night." He thought, thinking that was good. They had literally been in town for less a minute before Alan already made trouble, he was positive it would be better if he just left while people were distracted. However, he soon stopped in his tracks when he heard the girl with the gun shout.

"Where DID YOU GET THAT SCAR?" Jane screamed, pointing her pistol at Alex's face, and at his cross-shaped scar in particular. "You tell me where you met the man who gave that scar to you right now. Or I will make you suffer until you do." She ordered, her body shaking, sweat forming on her brow as she gave the most intense glare she could at the man. "He has a necklace. It's in the shape of a silver cross. He has hair to match. Tell me his name, tell me where you met him, and if you were ever his ally, pray to God, because I am going to kill you." As she spoke, her voice grew quieter, and she focused on the courier, her eyes locked on him. She begun to breath hard, thoughts and emotions filling her mind, all of which she pushed back. She had to focus, she had to get answers, and if it came to it, she had to put a bullet though this man's head as quickly as she could fire. No hesitation. She reached to her side, pulling out a smaller gun from her pouch. She aimed it up into the air, firing it. The gun shot had an odd high pitch to it, quite distinctive. Whatever her reason was for firing it was unknown, though, as she simply placed the gun back into the pouch, her eyes never leaving Alex. "Get to talking."
----

Another person was in the store, minding his own business, idly looking at canned good. He was paying no mind to Garret or Andrew, but his eyes suddenly perked up when Garret said something. He turned around, looking at the hunter, a look of surprise on his face. He looked to around 15 or 16 years old, with medium-length black hair and a white jacket, a grey shirt underneath, with tan jeans and heavy boots completing his outfit. He walked over to Garret, smiling. There was suddenly a high-pitched gunshot, but he ignored it.

"Hello, sirs! I hate to interrupter your shopping, but I over heard you!" He gave a big grin, his voice having the same accent as Alan's. He clasped his head together, and let out a small chuckle. "I heard you mention an Alan. Would this Alan...does he have brown hair, an accent like mine, around this tall-" He moved his hand out in front of him, palm facing downwards, around 5 or so feet above the ground, matching Alan's height. "-And most importantly...does his eyes sometime purple? I highly doubt it's the same one, but if it was, could you please take me to him? He's an old friend of mine, and I've been looking all over for him! I would be so grateful if you did take me to him, but if the Alan you know isn't the one I speak of, I am very sorry for bothering you!" He suddenly took a breath, having not paused at all during his describing of Alan. His voice was incredibly cheerful sounding, so much it might have been a bit off-putting to some!

Whilst in the middle of examining the can in a bid to determine if it's any good, he quirked his head to the side when he heard a very distinctive gunshot. One that he recognized right away, as well as guessing who would be pulling the trigger of it. Huffing slightly, he put the can back before putting back the rest of what he was going to purchase, no time for check out after all. Just as he turned around to leave, the silver-haired young man stiffened slightly as he heard and saw the rambling going on over by the two he analyzed earlier. It took less than a second for him to get a read on the speaker.

'Anticipation, he's REALLY looking forward to their answer. Glee, he is disturbingly happy at the thought of finding who he's looking for. Attitude is similar to some of Jane's targets,' he thought to himself, recognizing the signs. 'Dangerous, very dangerous.' Biting back a curse, he took a quick glance to see if he could find a way out without drawing the likely crazy's attention, or at least not in a way that would get him stabbed or something. He'd really rather not get stabbed. Glancing at the shelves, he had an idea.

There was a loud thud, followed by the sound of a bunch of bottles shattering. Anyone who'd look over in the source's direction would notice the silver-haired young man was now covered in various liquids. "Ah! Crap crap, sorry about that!" He shouted.
"You idiot, what are you doing?" The clerk muttered.
"I'll just go wash up, I'll be back to help clean up!" With that, he dashed towards a sign with the universal sign of a restroom. If anyone bothered to investigate the site of the apparent destruction, they'd note a few oddities. Namely, how the break seemed oddly uniform, and that there seemed to be a small pile of grey dust on the ground.

---

At first, it seemed like the girl was going to try something anyway; as such he prepared himself to dash in to grab her by the shoulder in an attempt to stop her. Instead, she froze up as soon as she saw him. Seeing her face lose all color, he narrowed his eyes slightly as he recognized the look she was taking on. Her sudden shout had solidified his guess, the girl's got a chip on her shoulder. A really bad one, given her reaction. The attention she brought to his scar made it clear who was responsible for her grudge, and her assumption he might work for the one who gave it to him rankled at him.

Which is why the courier walked closer with a distinctly DISGUSTED look on his face. "His name is Cirino," he started, a complete lack of concern about the gun in his posture. "I met and fought the bastard a few years ago." Now within arm's length, he grabbed the barrel of the gun and aimed it up and away while giving her a look right in the eye that conveyed his irritation. "And finally, I find it insulting that you would think I would work for him to begin with," Alex finished, understating just how annoyed he is. "He scarred me and took my eye, so I gave him a scar in turn."

The stranger's sudden approach and overtly cheery demeanor were immediately off-putting to Garret. Someone acting like that, from his experience in the wastes, was either planning something or completely off their damned rocker. Hell, sometimes it was both. Someone like that suddenly coming at you to ask about a child was equally concerning, but since he at least looked young himself, Garret allowed his guard to drop ever so slightly. "Uh, yeah, pretty close. Not sure what the hell kind of accent it is, but it sticks out. Kid's pretty short too." He adjusted his hold on the various supplies he was carrying, still listening to the stranger's descriptions. The mention of his eye colour was oddly specific, which made Garret think back on the oddity he'd seen before. "Well, I don't actually really know where he is, but all that sounds familiar. Kiddo just took off towards some gunshots." He shrugged, speaking of it as if it were a mere inconvenience while babysitting or something. "Happens sometimes."

Still, all this made him feel quite uneasy, and he wanted to get out of the store, half expecting the stranger to want to join their team, half expecting to get stabbed because of his very strange behavior. Neither of those options were really optimal, in his opinion. He carried everything to the counter, where the shopkeeper was running a basic no-power cash register that consisted of a wood box and a crude abacus, and sat everything down for it to be counted out. If haggling was necessary, that would come after. While the goods were sorted, he decided to ask the stranger some questions of his own. "Where are you from, anyhow? And how long you been looking for this kid? Must be real important for you to be all the way out here looking for him."

_________________

The odd boy's face absolutely lighted up when Garret answered "Oh, wonderful! I would so very much like to see him again!" He said with a huge grind, clapping his hands together. It would almost be cute, if it wasn't so unnerving. "Oh, I'm from a town called Harmonie, it's quite a ways....south west from here, I believe?" He answered, having to think about it for a second. "It was a nice place, peaceful and quiet. Which makes the fact Alan left because he thought people were screaming and being too loud weird to me. Oh well, that's simply something else I will have to talk to him about." He explained, locking his fingers together and bringing them up to his chest, watching as Garret checked out. "As for how long I have been looking for him, I believe it's been around six years? I have to give him something that he forgot back home, and not only that, I also have something VERY important to tell him!" His voice sounded completely genuine, but there was something about it simply off. Granted, this was a teenager that appeared to be travelling the wasteland alone, and even some fully grown men couldn't handle such a thing, so pinpointing exactly what was up would be quite difficulty. It might not have even been something bad, to be honest, he might have just been an odd kid. That might have even been likely, considering how Alan acted.

---

Jane found herself frozen. She should have taken a shot as soon as he begun to move, but she didn't even try. That's what she would have done, if she had even the tiniest inkling that this man worked for that bastard. She knew why, she knew that look on Alex's face. It was the look of a man who had nothing but disgust and ill-will towards something, and she had a feeling very few things would have made him be more insulted that she just suggested. Of course, considering she said that due to the fact he had agiant scar wasn't the most logical train of thought, she supposed, but it was the one she had, so she had to owe up to it. "I'm sorry. It's just...gah, never mind. He messed up your face and you scarred him?" She asked, trying to remember. It didn't take much effort, she would never forget that face. The face of a man she hated with everything she had. He had a scar right across his right cheek. It was him. Or at the very least least a man who was close enough that killing him would make her feel better all the same. But it also meant that it had to have been YEARS since the two fought, so any info Alex could have given her was outdated at best, flat out misremembered at worst. She let out an annoyed growl, tapping her feet in annoyance. She yanked her gun out of Alex's hand. Suddenly, however, a smile formed. "Cirino, eh? A name is the best way of tracking him down, so thanks for that. What's your name, partner? If this leads me to finding him, it's only right I know the name of the man to thank."

Alan watched the confrontation, feeling odd. Cirino...he had heard that name before. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, was a memory of it being said. Was it a common name? No, then the girl wouldn't have said it helped. Should he point out he had heard it before? He was just about to do so, when he remembered something. How the girl looked like she was going to murder him just a few minutes ago. ".....I'll keep it to myself."

When the girl growled, Alex almost expected her to try shooting him anyway after she pulled her gun away. His eyes narrowed slightly at how she was able to quickly calm herself down, the sudden shift from frothing with rage to calm and collected could imply a great many things. Given how she acts however, he chose to assume it meant lots of practice forcing her temper to cool; likely for when she needs to focus. He noticed it before when she bumped into the hooded person and calmed herself down, but the degrees of the two events are different enough that it didn't put things into context the first time. "Right cheek. I left a large cut on it with a blade," he said, describing the scar.

"As for my name," he then started, keeping an eye on her just in case something sets her off. "My name is Alex Leons, and I am just a simple courier."
"Jaaaaaaane!" A voice called, as a silver-haired young man ran towards them. "We need to get out of here. Like, now!" Blinking, he stared at Alan for a second with his brown eyes, mentally comparing him to the description he heard before. "Okay, scratch that. Definitely now!"

Raising an eyebrow, Alex crossed his arms. "Mind if I ask why you reacted like that after seeing Alan?" He questioned.
"Huh? Oh, hey," the young man lazily greeted, before switching back to panicked as he started talking to Jane. "I just saw some guy, like 15 or something, mid-length black hair, and a look to him that reminded me of some of your crazier targets. Oh, and he's looking for a guy. A guy who looks exactly like that kid over there, especially if his eyes can turn purple or something, and if he's coming this way, then we've got trouble!"

Narrowing his eyes at the last part, Alex looked over at the Syker teen. Considering how most people treat Sykers, he can only assume that it's not for friendly reasons, and that's even if he ignores the young man's observations of the person in question. "Alan, let's go grab Garret and Andrew. After that, we're leaving," he said. He had started to head for the store, when the young man spoke up again, making him curse under his breath.
"Uh, that's the direction I came from."

Six years? Garret had kind of a hard time belieiving that, given how small and young Alan looked. Hell, he might have only been around for six years, as far as he knew. Unless the strange man was chasing a toddler around for all this time, he couldn't imagine it being entirely true. But maybe he was just bad at keeping track of time? That wasn't terribly uncommon, given hardly anyone could read, let alone have enough astrological know-how to measure years properly. Given how blasted out everything was too, seasons were perhaps not a perfect indicator of time anymore, either. It was suspicious. But then, so was everything that the strange boy said and did so far, so maybe it was just a case of really poor social skills. Also not really uncommon.

"Well...Alright, if you say so. I guess if it's not the guy you're looking for, not much time wasted, compared." He turned to the shopkeeper, and as he was satisfied with the prices already, didn't bother with much haggling besides asking if his currency would be accepted. It would be, and it was, so he gathered his supplies in a rough-looking burlap sack, previously empty and secured to his waist by his belt, and slung it over his shoulder. "Come on, let's get going then." He pushed open the shop's door, holding it for Andrew, then let it go and started to walk back towards where their group had been at before Alan took off. "I swear, if those guys have started anything, we're leaving. Got it? We don't know any of them," He explained to Andrew. Garret did want to help that Alan kid out, for sure, but almost dying a second time in one day for a stranger? Nah. Not his kind of deal there.

As fate would have it, the group came back into sight, and not a pleasant sight at that. They were moving with a pace that suggested urgency, and Garret immediately cursed the day's sequence of events. "Oh bugger off," He huffed under his breath. Picking up pace, Garret sped towards them as well, speaking to Alex and Alan when they were nearer as he came to a stop. "What happened? And who're they?" He motioned towards Jane and the silver-haired man that were a bit further behind, but who seemed to be with the other two now. "Tell me you didn't manage to **** someone off in the ten goddamned minutes we were here."

_________________

Jane listened to the silver-haired person, letting out an annoyed grunt. "Okay, Silver. Think for a second, if he's going after that kid-" She pointed at Alan, looking Silver in the eyes. "-And not you or me, why should we be in a hurry? If he reminded you of any of my old targets, let me remind you of something." She said, giving him a smug smile. "All of my old targets are dead." She was sure some random teenager wasn't anything to be worried about. But she gave it a thought, and looked at Alex and Alan. The younger one seemed to be kind of a pain, but the older one DID give her some incredibly vital advice. Her decision was made when Silver pointed out they were headed in the direction he came from. "Let's go, Silver. The older guy helped me out, so if they need some help while we're around, we're giving them help." And with that, she started to follow them.

"Uhh....okay." Alan nodded, moving behind Alex. Somebody was after him? Why had people suddenly taken an interest in him? He wished they didn't do that! He sighed, lowering his head, trying to think. A fifteen year old with black hair? Alan had no idea who that could be, there wasn't enough to go off of. "Does it have to do with that...Girien, was that his name? Is it somebody connected to him?" He wondered, looking up when he heard a familiar voice. It appeared that Garret and Andrew had caught up with them. He flinched when Garret asked if they had **** anybody off, but before he or Alex could answer, Jane spoke up and did it for them.

"Is **** people off something the kid's good at? Seems like he's got a natural talent for it." She said, her gun still in her hand. "Yeah, he did, but we kissed and made up. Who we are isn't important. Did you see a kid with black hair come this way?" She asked, taking charge. If there WAS somebody crazy here, and he attacked, she was going to put him down as soon as humanly possible. She wasn't in the mood for ANYBODY'S bullshit at the moment. She was going to help them get out of town, then head off and hunt down every single person called Cirino she could find. "After that, I'll....I'll....hmm. Guess I'll have to think about it." She wasn't going to be the sort who just gave up after she got what she wanted, after all.

"Black hair? Why, could it be me you're talking off?"

The odd man stepped forward, having been behind Garret. He still had his large smile, and it somehow only got bigger when he saw Alan. "Ah! Alan! My dear friend!" He cheered, pushing back Garret and moving over to Alan. He looked the scene over, and took check of where everybody was. Garret and Alex were in front, Jane and Silver where in the back, and Alan was right in the middle. That was fine

"T-TRACE!?" Alan shouted, stepping back, his body shaking, a look of absolute shock overcoming his face. For the first time in a good long while, an emotion besides worry or fear filled his body. "What are YOU doing here, you PIECE OF-" Before he could finish, Trace was suddenly upon him, arms reaching out to grab Alan...and pull him into a hug, one arm wrapped around the boy's back and the other being placed on his chest. Alan didn't push him back or even struggle, simply too taken by surprise.

"Oh, Alan, my dear friend! I am here to fix a mistake, you see!" He said, his smile as huge as ever. Suddenly, however, the smile changed. It grew smaller, but the emotions from it grew even more. Alan's eyes suddenly went wide, as his mouth begun to hang open as Trace continued.

"You."

He stepped back, suddenly holding a sword that completely colored pitch black, with no apparent distinction between handle and blade. However, only half of the blade could be seen, and only then by Jane and Silver. The half jutting out of Alan's back. Trace stepped back, pulling the blade out with a single, smooth motion, cutting into the ground as Alan fell onto his back. He looked around, at everybody else present, already knowing their reactions, as there were simply only two reaction they could have. The reaction of a person with morals and care for their fellow man, and the reaction of those who didn't deserve the first. "Oops. I'm sure that made one of you upset. Well, in that case...let me finish it quickly, as to not let your pain last long." He raised up his sword, pointing it downwards, ready to impale somebody he was quite obviously not friends with at this point.

Suddenly, there was a gunshot, smoke coming out of Jane's pistol. "No." Was all she said, holstering her gun as the black haired man was knocked backwards by the force, landing on his back. She went towards Alan, growing worried for the boy. "Silver, go get the first ai-" She was suddenly silenced, something flying through the air and cutting her cheek. "What in the hell?" She asked, drawing her gun again, as Trace stood back up, laughing as he did.

The part of his face that Jane had aimed for was covered in a black, stone-like material, just like the one his sword was made out of. Jane's bullet had simply crumpled against it, falling down to the ground as he stood up. The material turned into liquid and slithered away, returning to his sword, revealing he still had his smile on. Once his laughter had stopped, he smiled at Jane. "Awww, that's a shame. Now I have to kill you as well." He said, grabbing the blade of his sword, more of that black material forming onto his arm, covering it in armor with a clawed hand.. "And if the rest of you wish to join these two in crossing over to hell...." He narrowed his eyes, his voice changing, becoming deeper and taking on a mocking tone.

"Then I'll gladly be the one to help you do it."

"Well, that's true, but," the young man, apparently named Silver, muttered as he scratched his head. His worry had less to do with whether or not she could handle the problem, so much as how much trouble that would be caused if the crazy is anything like the same type of person they were talking about. Usually when that type of crazy pops up, the chaos they can cause tended to make him question what faith he has in humanity just a bit. However, even if he was reluctant to let Jane within fifty feet of yet another crazy, when she made clear her intentions of going straight towards the problem instead of leaving... Well, he couldn't just let her walk straight into trouble without back-up, right? 'Why does she have to be so cute?' He complained without any heat in his head, too used to his crush's habits to honestly muster up any annoyance.

When they found the guy from earlier who looked skilled, apparently the Garret guy they're looking for based on how the man started up a conversation as if he knew Alex. Given the annoyed look the courier gave the man, the silver-haired young man had a feeling he was right... A feeling that was replaced with dread as he realized this is the same guy who was talking to the crazy. As the now-named Trace revealed himself, Silver was already tensed up for potential attacks. Even the sudden surprise of the hug didn't make him release any tension, a detail Alex seemed to notice if the narrowed eye meant anything. His eyes widened slightly at the suddenly appearing sword. 'His Nuke?' He thought to himself.

When Jane's bullets proved useless as black stone armor was revealed, he cursed under his breath. Nukes are already bad news, but Nukes with free-form shapes like this one apparently had tend to be an even bigger problem. Especially if said Nuke's material is strong enough to stop attacks cold, if Trace's lack of injury is any indication. 'Durable. It's power is in its durability, the ability to reshape itself near-instantly just makes it more dangerous via flexibility.' In a situation like this, all that can really be done is get a role and fill it as quickly as possible. Since Silver lacked any method of harming the guy without getting close, he was going to instead take the role Jane had intended to give him before. He did his best to ignore the blades flying past his head at the black-haired Nuke user, grabbing a hold of the injured kid and pulling him somewhere safer.

"Hang on, don't go dying on me," he told Alan, a faint feeling of Life flowing through the brown-haired Syker's body, stemming the blood loss as the wound on his chest started to close itself up. "If nothing else, that one-eyed guy's probably going to stab me if you do die," Silver explained.

---

"Dammit Garret," Alex growled under his breath as he fired another salvo at this 'Trace'. Normally, he's not one for hurting kids. Normally, he would give them a stern talking to when they do something stupid. Normally, said kids don't nearly kill someone in front of him by stabbing them through the heart. As one can tell, this situation isn't 'normal'. And Garret led the cause of it right to them.

Now, to be fair to the spear-user, he had no idea that the brat he was leading to them was a problem. As it was though, the courier only had a moment's warning when he saw the silver-haired young man tensing up before the newest entry in a long-list of annoyances was added, and he quite frankly was not happy about it. Which is why he didn't hesitate to shoot at Trace as soon as he finished talking, not even giving him a moment's respite by firing a second time. Unfortunately, as the blonde girl's gun so perfectly shown, simply shooting at the problem until it stops being a problem won't work. Which is why he was trying to figure out the general limits of that Nuke of his by aiming at different parts of his body in order to not give Trace time to recover.

Garret was immediately struck with a heavy sinking feeling in his chest when he heard the descriptions, which only intensified when Trace made himself known from behind him. He immediately turned around and tried to put himself between him and Alan, light forming in the palm of his hand as he began to summon his nuke. Before it solidified, Trace pushed him aside, but he caught himself on the bottom of his now-formed spear and swiftly brought it up into a striking position, though he hesitated when he noticed that he was, oddly enough, hugging Alan. He kept his grip on his weapon tight, but as prepared as he might have looked, one couldn't really prepare themselves for what happened next.

When the blade erupted from Alan's back, blood splattered across the sands, a cold sense of dread washed over Garret's mind. Had he just gotten a kid killed by leading this psycho to the group? It sure seemed that way, and the mailman's comment wasn't any kind of reassurance. Garret had some choice words for him, but that was for later. For now, he didn't think of how to get back at the bothersome courier for even a moment. His focus was locked on the scene ahead of him, and as Alan was dragged away by the very unfortunately named silver-haired man, his emotions began to well up heavily. Dread was replaced by a boiling rage, and as Trace went on about his threats, Garret spat out a viciously angry retort.

"Shut the **** up, you miserable goddamn ****! What the **** is the matter with you, stabbing a goddamn kid like that? That make you feel ****ing strong, huh? You think you're a big ****ing man 'cause of this? **** off, you're nothing but a rotten pile of **** just like any other murderer out in this godforsaken world! You aren't killing ANYONE today, you got that, you demented bastard?!" Garret was nothing short of absolutely furious, and as he continued to shout in his incredibly venomous tone, the ground around him visibly warped as gravity became unstable in about a foot's radius around him. Sand lifted off the ground in waves of particles that splashed against each other, and some larger pebbles began to rotate around him as they lifted off the floor. He shifted position again, bending his knees with his spear forward in a running stance, spitting out more insults as another volley of blades was fired at Trace.

"You want to ****ing threaten us - no, you want to threaten me? Then you best make damned ****ing sure you can back it up, you cowardly twat! COME ON!" He inched forward slightly, and with that motion, his nuke's power activated and took him off the ground. Garret flew blade-first towards Trace, his height bringing him up and above his head on the approach, while the spear's point of impact was aimed to be at Trace's collarbone. At first, it seemed as if Trace was going to counterattack, but he stopped midway through a swing of his clawed arm and let out a noise of pain even prior to the strike. As it left him open, Garret was able to make contact with his first strike, leaving a gash across his torso where the spear's blade impacted. Garret landed behind him a good distance away, where he immediately readied himself for another strike.

_________________

Jane was not discouraged whatsoever her shot seemed to do nothing but annoy Trace. In fact, she simply shot at him more, emptying her revolver of the rest of her bullets. Each one met their target, only to harmless hit him and fall to the ground. "This isn't working." She realized, reloading her weapon, thinking about what to do. It hit her in no time at all, causing a grin to form. "Alright, you shithead. If shooting you with a gun won't work-" She reached down to her hip, swatting away her poncho and pulling out the only thing she could think of. "I'll shoot you with TWO guns!" With a second revolver in hand, she opened fire. Again, each and every one of her bullet hit true. Again, each and every one did nothing. While her face became redder with obvious anger, Jane simply threw one of the guns into the air, rapidly reloading the other one with her now free hand. Once the first gun came down, she grabbed it without even a glance and repeated the process with the other gun. In fact, during all of this, her eyes never wandered from Trace, knowing full well that to look away from the enemy was to lose.

Trace smirked, at no one in particular, as splotches of black appeared on his person each time a bullet got close, easily blocking them. "Pathetic. If a gun isn't fast enough, then it's worthless, don't you agree?" He asked, holding out his clawed arm, a piece of black stone shooting out from it slamming into Jane's shoulder, causing her to stumble back and let out a loud curse. "Or maybe worthless bullets who can break through is the problem here?" He wondered out loud, paying Silver no mind as he grabbed Alan and dragged him off, through he did notice Alan's hand move, just a little. He of course noticed that the oddly-named boy was dodging blades that were flying through the air, which made a realization hit him. He turned his head to look behind him, seeing that Alex was attacking him. He let out a small chuckle at this

"Oh, and here I thought some pesky bugs were biting me on the back." He placed his hand on his neck, moving it up to pull up his hair, revealing the back of his neck was totally covered in the black stone, which should have been enough to clue Alex off about why his blades weren't doing anything. "But I see now it's only a single, particularly large and ugly bug." He continued, turning around, knowing Jane was no threat as long as his back was fully armored. "Have you noticed your face is all kinds of ****ing?" He asked, tracing a cross over his face with his non-armored hand, having stabbed his blade into the ground. As he talked, the courier continued to shoot at him, each of his blade being blocked by the black stone, which seemed to rapidly form on his body without any need for Trace to guide him. "Don't worry through, I'll make the rest of you ma-"

He was suddenly cut off by Garret breaking into an angry tirade. He listened and watched, giving an curious look as the ground around Garret begun to shift and float. An impressive display, if nothing else, but Trace didn't find himself easily impressed. When Alex tried to strike him again, Trace ignored it, letting his seemingly automated defenses handle it, too focused on Garret. When the monster hunter paused to move into an attack position, Trace answered his claims and accusations. He answered with the only answer he could truly find in his heart to give.

"Blah-blah-blah." He rolled his eyes, stretching out his clawed arm to the side. "No, you come on, you loud mouth shit-eating hypocrite." He retorted, getting ONE thing out of Garret's rant. They didn't know. Trace broke out into laughter, the full realization coming to him. Before he could could continue, however, Garret came at him, flying at him. "TRY ME!" He yelled out, swinging with his clawed arm. Before he could hit, however, he suddenly froze up. He let out a loud cry in pain, as something hit him. His entire body felt like it was on fire, like a thousand swords were stabbing his entire body a thousand times. A truly horrendous feeling, but not a new one to him. He gritted hie teeth as Garret got a hit in, causing a deep gash. After Trace regained control of his body, he moved his normal hand down the wound, covering it in blood. He brought the bloody hand up to his eyes, staring at it. With a quick motion, he flicked the blood off, giving Garret an odd look. He looked bored, yet angry at the same time. Stranger even still, he simply turned around, like he was no longer interested.

"Good." He said, seeing...well, not exactly what he expected. He had expected Silver and Jane to be on the ground, dead or in the same pain he was. But they seemed perfectly fine "Gotten better at controlling it? I suppose it IS better to just kill who you want than everybody around, isn't it?" Trace asked, clicking his tongue and turning to his side, looking at Garret, suddenly feeling a heavy pressure on himself. He ignored it, however. "Hey, shit-eater. If I, somebody who has never taken a life, am "a rotten pile of **** just like any other murderer", then tell me...what the hell is he?" He asked, pointing forwards and returning his attention to what he had mostly expected.

Alan was standing up, having broken away from Silver's pull. He was shaking, like he was struggling to stand, and he was looking towards the ground, like he always was. However, something seemed off.

"How many was it again, Alan?" Trace yelled, a serious look now on his face, a look of complete and utter disgust and contempt. "Five? No, it was six, wasn't it? It wasn't even six, it was seven. SEVEN ****ing PEOPLE, THAT'S HOW MANY THIS FREAK HAS KILLED. AND YOU THINK I'M ANY WHERE NEAR COMPARABLE? I'm not normally a violent person, really, but now that I think about it? JUST FOR THAT, AFTER I'M DONE WITH ALAN, I'M GOING TO WIPE YOU FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH, YOU GOT THAT?" Trace roared. Though his message was obviously directed at Garret, he remained glaring at Alan, his body shaking from pure anger. "But not before I take care of YOU. You freak, you MONSTER. Damn it, Alan, ANSWER ME!"

At this, Alan finally looked up. He met Trace's glare, with orbs of dark purple, glowing with some sort of energy. He moved forward, but not with effort, as he raised up his hand, one of Alex's blade clutched in it. The boy blinked, tightly gripping the blade, blood dripping form his hand. He raised his other hand up, lightly touching the hole in his shirt, the wound now fully healed up by Silver. That arm dropped, as he stepped forward again, this time a bit more easily. He opened up his mouth like he was going to say something, before suddenly closing it, his heads and arms slumping downward.

"The hell is with that kid?" Jane muttered, having fallen to the ground after Trace had got her. She had remained not out of weakness, but out of finding it a better way to look for an opening. If he had thought she was out, he wouldn't have paid attention to him. Now, through? She was moving out of the way, having a feeling that standing in between the two would have been incredibly bad for her health.

Alan suddenly jerked his head back up, his still glowing eyes going wide. Once again, his mouth opened, but instead of any words, something else came out. A primal scream, full of anger, far louder than the boy's small body seemed capable of. It seemed to die down, only for the boy to gain a second wind, the screaming even louder than before. For a few second, there was a purple glow around all of his body, focused on the arms and the legs, but that quickly fades away. Finally, he was able to force out some words.

"If It's you...IF IT'S YOU, TRACE, THEN I'M GONNA MAKE IT EIGHT PEOPLE." With that, he broke into a run, holding out the blade and he moved towards Trace.

"Like ****ing HELL YOU'RE GOING TO, FREAK." Trace pulled his sword out of the ground, and broke into a run of his own. The two blades soon clashed, sparks flying off of them, as the two boys got into each other's face, simply screaming at eachother. The broke off from the clash, Trace jumping back. "Hey, Alan, you like my Nuke?" Trace asked, some black stone forming in the air and swirling around him. "I got it 'specially for you." He explained, making sure to put in as much mockery in his tone as possible.

"Can you shut the **** up?" Alan growled back at him, before seeing something that put a smile on his face. "Besides, while I didn't get them for you, I have two things you don't." He proclaimed, his breathing heavy. He wasn't quite sure how long he could last, which made what he saw a welcomed sight.

"Now, what exactly do you have?" Trace asked, obvious annoyance in his voice. The pressure on him felt even heavier than before, and he was in so much pain a weaker person would have died. But he was fighting through it, and he wasn't going to let the freak beat him with it.

"Their names are Garret and Alex."

It was than the spear came down on Trace's shoulder, and the blade flew and pierced his unarmored arm.

Alex simply narrowed his eye into a sharp glare at Trace's comment about how little his blades did, as well as the crack at his face. It was annoying, yes, but also things he was desensitized to enough that mild irritation is the worst the commentary had brought up. It was at that point that Garret gave his rant and charged in. As the black-haired punk mocked and went into his own tirade in response, the courier took the time to take a deep breath, and tried to gain some semblance of calm. He mostly just ignored the crazy brat, until he started making accusations of Alan that he ignored. The kid didn't seem the type to kill a person, let alone seven. It was at that point that Alan unleashed a scream of sheer rage, which had the courier's eye snap over to his position. The purple aura surrounding Alan got a concerned frown to form on his face, especially when it disappeared not even a second after. In all the time he's been walking the wastelands, he couldn't say he had seen many Syker powers acting like that. Or at least not in any way that wasn't detrimental to said Syker. Were the kid's powers unstable? Those thoughts stopped for a second in favor of shock when Alan confirmed the accusations, and did he just say that he would make it eight? As worrisome as that was however, it was not the time to think on it too deeply and the kid wasn't the one trying to kill them anyway. The time for that will be later, if ever.

It was, instead, time to act on the chance Alan could give them. Putting his palm against the revolving chamber of his Nuke, he flicked as hard as he could, streamers of silver spiraling behind him as his eye narrowed. If shooting didn't work, then he would use melee. If his usual blades failed to pierce his armor, then he'd use something with a bit more power behind it. Laid out on the ground around them, forgotten in the ongoing confrontation between Alan and Trace, were the many blades Alex had fired. Blades that were now seeing use as they dissolved into fine silvery particles and flowed towards the Nuke.

Over by where he healed Alan, Silver watched as the 'dust' gathered around the barrel. He watched as it reshaped and hardened, expanding until the barrel was consumed in a large, shining blade. The courier didn't appear to be inconvenienced at all by the four-foot-long blade now attached to his pistol, not even when he pulled his arm back to throw it. Before he did though, he saw Jane run up to him and whisper something. Whatever it was, it made the courier nod in agreement before he threw the Nuke. As soon as the blade left his hand, the brown-haired man ran after it. As a result, the second after it pierced the black-haired Nuke user's arm, Alex was able to kick it to embed the blade further and stab it into the psychopath's side.

"There's something I have to say, about your rant before," the courier said, grabbing the sword to pull it out of Trace while he moved between Trace and Alan. "Don't insult Garret," he continued with a particularly irked tone. He might not like Garret, but having an ally's back in the middle of a fight was just something you do. "I'm the only one who gets to put down the idiot." Of course, that didn't keep him from taking a mild crack at him.
As this was happening, Silver noticed the blonde running past him. He had processed the tugging at his arm and the "come on come on come ON," she was telling him at the same time. Since he is not an idiot, he took the hint and went along with her. Looking back, he saw that Garret had also moved between the Syker and Nuke user to stand by the courier's side, both of them entering fighting poses.

Alex's involved him holding his sword in one hand in front of him at a slight tilt to the side, his free hand in a fist pulled to his side. Legs were set in somewhat loose position, likely to adjust his body and stance when needed. Garret in contrast had his legs in wide and firm stance designed to let him push off the ground and shoot himself forward like a rocket, leg aimed a pace to the right of Trace while the other was behind him and bent to the knee, as Garret's upper body facing a hair to the left with his head turned towards their opponent. One hand held his spear deceptively loosely under his arm with what looks like putting only the bare minimum of grip into holding it, while his other arm was held almost parallel to the front leg until it reached the elbow, where it was lifted and his hand held in an upwards-facing and almost claw-like gesture. They were a pair of contrasts, one rather simple and designed for flexibility while the other was substantially more complex and designed for quick bursts of speed and pursuit. But at the same time, they both held a form of significance. One that told Trace 'you shall not pass.'

The tip of Garret's spear dripped with crimson, the full impact of the gravity-warping polearm utilized. This wasn't the flashy staff-like combat he'd been utilizing earlier, meant to incapacitate rather than seriously wound. His strikes were aimed true, and the full intention was to make the ****ing ahead of him bleed. Trace talked a lot of **** and seemed threatening enough to back it up, but in the heat of the moment, he didn't care. Alan might have been a stranger, but god damn it he was a kid, and to Garret anyone who hurt a kid was just another monster to be hunted. With the impact of his second strike to Trace's torso, Garret doubled down on the gravitational force behind it, the spear kicking dirt up off the ground to a significant height. After the strike, he launched himself up and away without touching the floor himself, a burst of force sending him flying over towards the courier.

When he came to his stance near Alex, he rolled his shoulders and idly spun his spear around in the hand that wielded it. "Alright, you batshit little ****. Maybe if you turn around and run back to whatever loony bin shat you out, I won't have to crush every bone in your body," He threateningly spat out at Trace. He awaited the inevitable threats to come his way, unhinged screeching about how a child had killed so many people, things like that. During that period, he spoke in hushed tones to Alexander. "While he's **** himself crying at me, take out his joints. That gun-sword-thing of yours looks like it could break through an elbow or two." With that, he then burst forward once again, slashing his spear across the ground as he moved somewhat erratically. The line he left began to explode with gravitational disturbances a few moments later, creating a cloud of sand to reduce Trace's visibility of the others.

As he continued to keep himself aloft, Garret spun around to slash at Trace with the sides of his spear's long blade, accompanying each possible strike with a heavy burst of power to enhance the physical impact behind each one. He retreated almost immediately after every one, moving from one place to another and reaching impressive heights just to rush downward and stab at his target with exceptional precision. The whole time, he spat out insults from his homeland's vernacular, some of which were more indecipherable than others, but all of them carrying the same clear message. He wanted this little **** out of his way.

_________________

"Shut up." Trace calmly, the tone of voice he used not fitting for a person who was getting hit as hard as he was. A hand covered in black stone suddenly shot up out of the dust cloud, grabbing Garret by the throat. A second one then blocked Alex's strike with ease, crushing the blade within seconds, following it up with grabbing Alex's wrist with enough strength to cause him to drop his nuke. "I don't care about you insulting me, and I understand you attacking me." The anger in his voice had been replaced, with a far more subtle venom, as the dust around him begun to clear. As it did, the reason for his lack of response to Garret's attacks became obvious. The black stone he controlled completely covered him, forming a second skin of armor, completely smooth and detail-less. Even his face was completely covered, smooth and blank, making him appear as a moving silhouette.

"But don't ****ing insult me with these pathetic ****ing attempts you stupid shitheads." With that, he threw Alex with as much force as he could muster into a nearby house, causing him to crashing through the front wall, and slammed Garret into the ground, before stomping onto his chest. "When all you can do is tear my clothing to shreds, while only being able to scratch me by taking me by surprise...how are you not ashamed by being that ****ing weak?" He asked, stomping on his chest again and again. Grinding his booth into Garret's chest, he ripped off what of left of his shirt and jacket, Garret's attack at least doing a good job of destroying that. He looked, and despite the fact his eyes was not visible, the glare he was sending towards Alan could still be felt. "This what what you had? Pathetic. Honestly, Alan, are you trying to get these two killed? I mean...that would be like you, but I thought you at least had the common decency to do it yourself, and not send them off to their death. That's just cruel." He laughed, kicking Garret in the side of the torso. He bent down, speaking low enough that only the hunter could hear him. "Man, your parents must be ****ing ashamed of you." He stood back up, stomping down on Garret's face. He faced Alan once more, and waited to see how he would respond.

Alan stood still, thinking, trying to come up with something. He was sure Alex and Garret would have been able to take care of him...but he completely stopped them. Not to mention, his physical appearance was honestly kind of unnerving now. He had been glared at before, but being glared at without seeing the face doing it was...disconcerting to say the least. Alan gulped, holding the knife in his hand. If two nukes couldn't break through his armor, could this small knife do anything? His eyes were still glowing purple, and he felt his powers at work, but why wasn't Trace being affected by them? He couldn't do anything to Trace, and if he tried he was going to die. He begun to shake, all the anger he had draining away, replaced by fear. "Am I going to die here? I don't want to die." He realized that all those times he felt like he should have, the actual danger of dying was far away. But right now, it was staring him down, and he was terrified of it.

"What's the matter, Alan? You seem scared! You know, you could run away. You're good at that. Leave behind these two, juuuuust like you left behind your sister." Trace called out, laughing as he stepped forward. He suddenly froze midstep, grabbing his head and letting out an absolutely bloodcurdling scream of pain, Alan's eyes suddenly glowing like a purple inferno. "GAAAAAH! I-I GUESS THAT **** YOU OFF, HUH?" Trace shouted through the pain, the feeling of a thousand sword stabbing into every part of his body. He tried to fight back the pain again, and he felt it start to slow recede back, but it wasn't enough. His body was screaming at him, telling him to stop doing whatever it was that was causing it. Trace couldn't do that, but more importantly? He wouldn't "Come ON Alan. Are you even trying? I'm still standing, aren't I?" Trace looked around, and noticed something. People were running away, out of their houses and far from this fight, apparently having decided it had started to become too dangerous to simply stay inside. But none of them seemed to be in pain. He looked down, and Garret didn't seem to be bothered by it either. He looked to the side, where had thrown Alex, and he didn't seem affected either. In the house he had thrown Alex was a woman, cowering in the corner in fear. She was scared, but not in pain. The only person in pain was him. He looked towards Alan, and beneath the stone he smiled, honestly impressed. "You've gotten better. A ****ing natural at this killing thing, aren't you?"

"Don't you dare talk about her." Was Alan's only response, slowly moving towards Trace, an unnatural pressure in his chest. He was pushing himself too hard with this, but he didn't care. If using his powers this much was going to kill him, he didn't mind. Not as long as it meant Trace died.

"Don't talk about Alaina? Your sister that you left by herself after you run away like a coward piece of **** after you killed a bunch of people because you were a terrible big brother and let your baby brother play by himself, which lead to him probably dying in the wastelands? Is that who you don't want me to talk about?" He asked, feeling the pain worsen, Alan's eyes growing brighter. "Because I have a lot of thin-"

There was suddenly a loud bang, a bullet smashing into Trace's head, crumpling up and falling to the ground. "Shut up, your voice is annoying as all hell." Jane walked up next to Alan, a quite confident look on her face. "Geeze, I'm gone for a few minutes and they get their ass handed to them. How you doing, kid?" She asked, noting the fact he looked like his eyes were replaced with light bulbs. She also noticed he was shaking and covered in sweat, and she noticed there was an odd paleness to his skin. "You know what, don't answer that." She said, raising her revolver. and slamming it into the back of his head, knocking him up and causing him to fall to the ground, kicking up some sand. She bent down and picked him up with a single hand, her gun still aiming at Trace. "I'll take this pain in the ass, if you don't mind."

"...." Trace was silent, not counting the heavy breathing he was doing as the pain faded away. He stumbled forwards, grasping his chest. When his ability to speak returned, he mid it quite clear he DID mind! "Drop him. Don't think I won't kill you if that what it takes." He said, reaching out his arm, the claws formed by the black claw quite noticeable. He had wanted to kill Alan while he was alive, but at this point he didn't give much of a ****.

At this, Jane burst out laughing. "Haha! You think I'm afraid of you? Please, I've seen dead men I was more scared of than you. Some high-pitched voice brat is about as scary to me as....nothing really. I mean, look to me this kid was handling you by just staring at you really hard, and I can do that pretty easily." She smiled as soon as she noticed Trace begun to move towards her. More importantly, he begun to move away from Garret. "Okay, Silver, any time you're ready." She thought to herself. "Granted, if either of you two wants to stand up and help, wouldn't mind it!" She said, hoping that Alex and Garret were just on the floor in pain, and not dead. Them being dead would be bad.

An answer to Jane's shout came in the form of a blur, slamming into Trace's back. "Tch, give me a minute to finish recovering," Alex grumbled, finishing the annoying difficult at this time act of getting back on his feet after digging himself out of the building. In his hand was his Nuke, the gun barrel exposed and a trail of silver dust the only indication of there ever being a blade attached to the end. Narrowing his eye, he could see that the surrogate drill bit he shot in the maniac's back was barely doing anything, even as it kept spinning and attempting to drill bit into the black stone thanks to the rather simple command of 'spin' he attached to it. Out of the corner of his gaze, he saw something and a quick idea was formed. Aiming, he entered a simple 'command line' to the next shot as he fired. 'Strengthen. Shape. Spin.' And in that second, idea and will came together to become purpose. A second pseudo-drill shot out of the handgun, striking Trace and attempting to drill into him as well. This one didn't appear to be doing much either. But, then again, it didn't need to.

After all, the (admittedly rather beaten up) truck that rammed into the now distracted young man was plenty to throw him off his game. Noticing there was a silver-haired person in the driver's sear, he figured it must belong to the blonde and her friend. Either that or they somehow found a random truck and hotwired it.

"ALRIGHT, GET THE HELL IN!" Jane yelled, hauling herself over to the vehicle putting Alan into it's truck bed as fast she could without trying to hurt the boy. She looked over at Trace, noticing he had been sent flying a decent amount of distance away, but was already standing back up. He was obviously disoriented, however, and the gunslinger hoped that was going to give them enough time. She run over to Garret and grabbed him, helping him to his feet, the monster hunter being a bit heavier than Alan making it difficult to carry him. Soon enough he was also in the truck bed, and Jane climbed up inside it as well. "ALRIGHTY WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE JOINING US, CYCLOPS!" She yelled over at Alex.

Huffing slightly in annoyance at the nickname, the courier ran for the truck, grabbing the edge of the bed to throw himself over and into it. As soon as Silver felt the slight bounce from a full-grown man jumping into the back, he pulled the gear-shift to reverse and floored it. "Hang on tight," he spoke up, eyes flashing for an instant. Spinning the wheel to the side, the truck's front all but threw itself sideways. In the next second, he started spinning it the other way as he shifted it back into drive and the truck sped off as it re-oriented itself into going the opposite direction from the crazed stone-covered young man.

As soon as Alex had jumped in, Jane pulled him down, a sharped black stone flying right above them, exactly where Alex's torso just was. The black stone broke through the truck's back windshield and out it's front, causing the glass to shatter, causing Jane to pop her head up and leer at the maniac. "DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO REPLACE WINDOWS AROUND HERE, YOU JACKASS?" She shouted at him, before turning around. "You alright, Silver?"

"Nothing a few seconds of rest won't fix," he replied, grinning slightly with small scratches on the sides of his head from the shattered back windshield. "Also, is that concern I hear?" He knew teasing Jane would probably earn him some pain later, but right this moment he was driving so he can at least delay the inevitable. "So, I can't help but notice the kid back there's out cold. How hard did you hit him?" He asked, partially to distract her from thoughts of revenge and partially out of concern. He knows Jane, and he knows she hits hard when she feels the need to. "And another thing, how are you guys back there?" He asked, calling over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the road.
"What do you think?" Alex deadpanned, favoring a noticeable bruise on his face from when he was smashed into a building.