[attr="class","monsterexo"]Kenshi hated loud noises. The distinctive, ear-splitting crack of guns firing bullets felt like ice picks being buried sharply, abruptly, and rather forcefully into his auditory canals. He dug a couple of pinky fingers into his ears, scraping at the interiors of them as if he were trying to remove the tympanic disturbance personally.

As overwhelmed as he felt on a sensory level, common sense dictated that anyone firing a gun--especially at this time of day--was likely up to no good. It was reason enough for Kenshi to drop what he was doing for the moment and go investigate.

And, judging by the amount of people running in the same direction, combined with their obvious shouting and panicked expressions, Kenshi suspected that whoever discharged the gun was most likely wherever these folks were fleeing from.

It only took him a couple of minutes to lightly sprint his way to the source of the commotion: a bank robbery was taking place. Another barrage of shells were discharged, prompting Kenshi to slip behind the wall of a nearby brick building for cover.

As he mentally prepared a strategy of attack, it never once occurred to Kenshi that there might have been others who would be attracted to the scene of the crime-in-progress, to either bear witness to it or, more than likely, put a stop to it.

Others such as the pink-haired girl, who had been there long before the Edgemaster ever arrived.

[attr="class","monsterexo"]As he stood there in deliberation, the pink-haired lady moved toward the crowd of guards and onlookers, propelled by the decorated wings of a butterfly, then proceeded to threaten one of them for reasons that were beyond Kenshi's current scope of understanding. He arched one of his crooked brows. Who pissed in her cornflakes this morning?

He took a glance at the name above her, then squinted hesitantly. Papilion? Was that spelled right? It looked French, but Kenshi knew nothing of the language to make a proper assessment.

Not that he wanted to--especially if she was going to go around stabbing people for it.

Whatever her reasons were for being upset, the woman clearly demonstrated her intolerance for the situation at hand and, through her intimidation, was able to (barely) eke out an explanation from the poor fellow that nearly became her first victim: as it turned out, the criminals inside had chosen to pull a heist on the largest and most secure vault in the city, but something had occurred to botch the procedure, and now they were hunkered down inside with hostages and presumably disguised as bystanders as well.

Huh. Who knew that petty crooks could be smart for a change?

After Papilion stepped forward and released a mysterious powdered substance to induce unconsciousness on a group of people guarding the entrance to the bank, she turned to Kenshi and asked, in a surprisingly polite way this time, if he wanted to assist her in this endeavor.

The Edgemaster glanced at her, then the bodies, then back to Papilion. "Are you sure? You look like you have this under control," he joked, although his calm, flat vocal intonations could have easily been construed as a literal statement rather than a humorous quip. It would require him to step out from behind the wall and send her a party invite for him to demonstrate the sincerity behind his willingness to assist.

If anything, he needed the money for material components.

[attr="class","monsterexo"]The Edgemaster found humor in the irony behind Papilion's estimation of his combat abilities, although her word did hold some measure of truth. Not taking into account that he was still operating as a level one character, Kenshi's class parameters were nonetheless subpar, even for a utility-based role. His only true strength lied within his growing arsenal of swords, and the magic he used to bring out their full potential.

"Point taken," Kenshi said as he took an occasional glance toward his new questing partner, catching wind of her lingering irritation as she examined a series of unsightly stains on her clothes, something the Edgemaster had failed to see until just now. Correlating the two details with one another gave him a few theories to mull over -- but this was not the time to be acting the part of detective.

At Papilion's suggestion, Kenshi gave her an affirmative nod and followed her toward the entrance of the bank proper, where his ears were once again greeted with the skull-splitting cacophony of bullets being sprayed wildly. He winced, trying to block the noise out as best as he could.

Kenshi held his position against the doorway as the winged woman took a peek inside, then informed the Edgemaster that it was, for all intents and purposes, a full-scale skirmish between both sides, and that she herself would not be entering the thick of it.

The moment her hand started producing a warm golden glow, she reached out and pressed it against his upper arm--the gesture itself nearly made Kenshi squirm on the spot, as he disliked being touched by people he didn't know, but he was able to seamlessly keep his composure long enough to allow Papilion a moment to infer some kind of invulnerability effect.

Nodding silently as an expression of thanks for her assistance, Kenshi wasted no time leaving cover to leap fearlessly into the fray, moving his body over an upturned table with athletic precision as shards of light converged within his left hand, shifting and shimmering until they took the distinguishable shape of a beginner's short sword, while his right hand proceeded to manually call in a second weapon that was physically identical to the first.

Armed and ready for combat, the warrior took advantage of the golden aura that Papilion provided him and moved effortlessly through the barrage of bullets that were now being aimed his direction, smirking as they bounced harmlessly off of his skin as though it were made of solid iron. The criminal miscreants that were to be his opponents -- a total of five -- all gawked in confusion before two of them chose to engage the interloper directly, their ranged superiority be damned.

With a skillful flourish of both weapons, Kenshi maneuvered his feet in circular movements, his crimson cape flowing behind him like water as he carved and slashed into the petty crooks with a spinning horizontal attack, stunning them on the spot while he followed up with a devastating series of brutal cuts that resulted in their inevitable downfall.

The remaining three bandits, now fully realizing that their weapons were doing no damage to the glowing swordsman, moved in to avenge their fallen comrades in melee combat. Though these were low-leveled foes and wouldn't do any substantial damage to him, invulnerability or no, Kenshi allowed them to close in.

He stooped low, swords poised for attack. Once they were within striking distance, the warrior scoffed as he pushed into a counterclockwise spin, allowing the weight of his body to pour through his blades as he sliced cleanly through their bodies like a whirling dervish.

Once Kenshi braked himself and ceased all circular momentum, he held his posture for a few moments. As the golden aura surrounding his body faded from view, his arms tensed.

As if he had timed it just right, all three criminals let out sharp cries of pain as the wounds created by his swords produced jets of sparkling light before they fell to the ground, exploding into fractal data upon impact. 

Class was now in session.

[attr="class","monsterexo"]Papilion's appraisals were comparable to shouting in Kenshi's point of view, which made him tense a little while he straightened his posture out. Not that he didn't appreciate her compliments, but he could have done without the pat on the back. Or the facetious manner in which she tried to boost his ego, like it was somehow within her "great master plan" to hire a competent warrior for this high-stakes mission.

As always, the Edgemaster kept his thoughts restrained -- for his own sake rather than her's -- and watched with an arched brow as Papilion took command of the situation by directing the guards, some of whom were still bewildered by Kenshi's earlier performance in the crossfire, to secure the perimeter while the pair of adventurers continued to pave the way.

"I was--" Kenshi found himself cut off before he was able to make a suggestion to Papilion, and sighed despondently. Was that going to happen throughout the entire quest? Shaking his head, he briskly paced his way to the staircase, trailing behind the winged female by several steps.

Once they were on the next floor, the swordsman carefully positioned himself behind a wall, signaling for Papilion to remain behind him with a silent gesture. He peered around the corner, taking great amounts of scrutiny to analyze everything his eyes fell upon.

The hallway that lay directly adjacent to their current position was definitely more than a couple dozen meters in length, and split off into separate directions near the end. Several doors were also visible, meaning that there were likely to be crooks waiting to ambush the players at the drop of a pin.

He glanced at the status of his active Projection; it could still endure three hits before it broke, which was always a good thing. But additional damage, especially in tandem with Papilion's invulnerability buff, was even more favorable.

Kenshi pulled his head back around the corner and muttered a phrase under his breath, reaching into the back of his mind while he focused on the structural framework of both his equipped short swords, imagining their compositions being fortified with magic. Surely enough, green, circuit-like patterns formed against their reflective metal surfaces, indicating that they were now under the effects of his Reinforcement ability, at least for a solid couple of minutes.

Next, he turned to Papilion. "How long until your buff cools down?"

[attr="class","monsterexo"]Half a minute? That's remarkably economical, especially for an invulnerability buff, Kenshi thought with mild amusement as he glanced upward -- a personal habit of his, given that he could still see the timers in his peripheral view -- the remaining duration of his own enchantment; about a dozen or more seconds had passed since he reinforced his blades.

Waiting for her ability to recharge would consequently shave into the lasting duration of his own technique, but the Edgemaster felt it strategically necessary to make this exchange if they were to succeed this mission without a hitch.

And, whether he liked it or not, Kenshi's earlier performance had set the bar for this quest, and he was now being expected to fill those shoes completely.

Once forty-five seconds had elapsed, once the Edgemaster was confident that her ability had refreshed itself for another use, he motioned for her to carefully follow behind at a slight distance, as there was a possibility that she could unintentionally draw aggression if there were any creeps in hiding.

When Reinforcement's timer hit the two-minute mark, Kenshi stepped vigilantly into the hallway, but cautiously enough so that his boots refrained from making enough noise to alert any baddies-in-hiding of their approach.

Feeling confident that there were no  approached the first door on the left, and positioned himself in front of it. If Papilion was observant, she would recognize her cue to apply that distinctive 'golden touch' of hers before ducking for safety while he stormed the next room.

He steeled himself, ready for anything.

[attr="class","monsterexo"]Kenshi's arm tensed again as Papilion's hand pressed against it, providing his athletic frame with another temporary spurt of invincibility. His ears could register the muffled sound of vulgar banter being traded between at least three men, giving him all the more incentive to strike while the iron was hot.

He pushed a hand against the door, then leaned in hard.

In that moment, Kenshi became little more than a red and gold blur as he rushed into a roughly square-shaped chamber full of wooden crates of all shapes and sizes, possibly some kind of storage room.

"Hey, what the--!?"

A discordant series of yelps, grunts, and cries erupted from the room as the unmistakable sounds of metal clashing against metal -- the game's registered sound byte for sword-based attacks -- rang out over the chaos.

Inside, the Edgemaster had become a cyclone of blades once more, slicing into his foes with the expertise of a trained soldier. As he slipped and tore his way through his adversaries, his swords flickering with green light, a thought crossed his mind.

Back in the real world, Kenshi was never suited for activities that required intensive physical exertion, and that included the martial arts, in spite of his avid interest in their philosophical aspects. But here, in Gargantua, he could demonstrate the capacity to be the warrior he always imagined himself to be, and he did it with conviction, even knowing that all of this was little more than a simulated effect.

As for these poor fellows, whose attack patterns were programmed to respond to certain stimuli, the defeat they were about to suffer at Kenshi's swords would not be a simulated effect.

These particular criminals were armed only with short swords or daggers, which at least made things somewhat fair, if only for the sake of appearances. Nonetheless, their attacks failed to pierce Kenshi's veil of light, even though the latter made an effort to actively block and riposte their moves with his own.

The Edgemaster proceeded to unleash a dexterous display of skill by using the weight of his swords to generate circular momentum, while his wrists spun them in perfect synchronicity to one another, capturing two of the thugs in a vortex of steel, crying out as they exploded in bursts of mirrored light.

But when Kenshi twisted around to dispatch his third and final enemy, the golden paling that cocooned his form vanished from sight, leaving him vulnerable enough for the dagger-wielding goon, who closed in from a blind spot, to thrust one of his blades forward and into his upper left arm.

Pain courses through his head like searing fire, and Kenshi grits his teeth to bear with it long enough for him to pivot rightward, hugging closely to the bandit's strike zones to prevent him from attacking with broad strokes while simultaneously flipping his sword around and into a reverse-handed grip.

Unaware of the Edgemaster's strategy, the thug attempted to follow in the direction of his spin, but in doing so provided Kenshi with the opening he needed, allowing him to plunge the fortified sword into his exposed back with a final, decisive pose. The bandit yelps, then dissolves into data like the other two.

Once the coast was clear, Kenshi rotated the arm that had been cut, noticing that the blow, superficial as it may have been, did a fair amount of damage all the same. The intensity of the pain reminded him that he still had a lot of work to accomplish.

He was genuinely thankful for Papilion's assistance and made a note to express his gratitude when all of this was done, however Kenshi had also hoped that she wouldn't reprimand him for supposedly being reckless; sure, he wasn't aware of the contents to the storeroom, but he was at least perceptive enough to notice their distasteful language patterns and identify them as foes.

There was no need for any reminders of the most obvious risk on the table: were he to behave too carelessly in battle, it could cost him his life.

[attr="class","monsterexo"]Kenshi's ears perked at Papilion's verbal bulletin letting him know that two thieves in disguise had tried -- and failed -- to get the slip on her.

"Which direction did they come from?" he asked, noticing the circuit-like patterns sprawled across his swords fade out of sight to inform him that Reinforcement had expired. "If they came disguised, then it's plausible that the thieves stole the real hostages' clothes to throw off our approach."

Kenshi smirked. Despite the crooks' rudimentary understanding of tactical strategy, the sensation of being forced to mentally coordinate an appropriate counter-strategy was something the Edgemaster truly enjoyed about Broken War Online™. He compared the experience to an elderly person solving a jigsaw puzzle -- not only did it keep his mind sharp, but it served as a form of recreation.

He took a few cursory looks at the stacks of crates lining the edges of the room, some of which were scattered around like they had been tossed carelessly. "You don't suppose we'll come across any items while we're doing this, do you?" Kenshi asked. Game logic never made any sense, but sometimes it required players to suspend their disbelief if it meant learning to enjoy the rewards associated with it.

Whether or not Papilion was interested in expanding the size of her inventory didn't necessarily matter to Kenshi, although he would certainly be willing to share the spoils in the event such were to come into focus. But he did feel it necessary to bring attention to the apparent absence of drops, even if it was just a passing comment.

But it could also just be Kenshi, though. He always thought about stuff like this.

Either way, this whole "breach-and-rescue" plan definitely seemed like it was going a lot smoother than it logically should have played out...