Behind Enemy Lines (Open)

Pirate sygil? Onnio thought, not quite understanding what one might be but at the same time, in some throwback of eons of bandit blood perhaps, intimating what it truly meant. The Heran was a pirate, an outlaw, a fighter with all the stars arrayed against him, and those he took he took by force. It was a good way to be, a way that felt right to Onnio. Who set all the crummy rules that everyone had to live under, if not the very first pirates to look at the fire-bright shine of a coin, or a city, or a star, and say this is mine?

But just when Onnio was about to start peppering Tepid Hank with questions, a blue bolt from the darkness interrupted his thoughts. By those same savage instincts, Onnio ducked and covered, clapping his hands over his helmet before Vocado and Pitt even yelled their warnings. He'd been in the Tuffle lines before, sure. They were bloody messes, every time. Even when they won, or sometimes, especially when they won. You couldn't make a souffle without beating the cheese, and you couldn't beat the Tuffles without a bunch of explosions, deaths, and bad dreams when it was all over.

I just hope they don't show up with their giant metal cockroach suits. Onnio thought as he methodically cycled his arm cannon, the frost rising from his arm making a milky cloud. Onnio hated fighting the roach suits.

But he didn't have time to blast back, as Nasu already did that for him. With an alarmed chirp, his scouter blared new golden numbers across his vision.

↺[25,000]

In what seemed fast as heartbeat, Nasu's battle point had exploded to absurd heights. Onnio's jaw dropped, and a memory of Vocado's rage in the ruins hit him. How is it possible to increase your battle power so quickly?

Stunned and awed, Onnio stood from his cover, and watched the clash of power between Nasu and his would-be assassin.