Delta 2: Jefferson City Shindig

Well, this was kind of a shitshow, huh? Honestly, despite how comfortable it was here next to his rescuer's chest, Ira had to admit that he was at least a little bit uncomfortable at the thought that he was nice and cozy here with the pretty lady while everyone outside was getting lopped in two. A real conundrum.

"Can't say I really know what the plan was. Seemed like they had things pretty lined up, least in their heads."

While he wasn't exactly admitting to Yugiri that his depiction of a young girl had been a facade, Ira also wasn't doing much to pretend he was anything other than an old man. Of course, he was still held nice and close to that chest. He'd stay right there as long as she let him, honestly, especially considering he couldn't do too much to help with the whole wanton slaughter thing. He'd have liked to, though.

"Maybe their heads weren't on right, though."

The hollow was doing something, Yugiri did wonder about why the hollow was helping them. She assumed it was entirely selfish, a hollow could not truly be benevolent when they were slaves to their instincts. Though she judged him to be a Vasto Lorde and so she could safely assume he had overcome his need to feed on souls for necessity. It wasn't like an adjuchas that would be at risk of regression to the Gillian stage if they were not able to continue to devour souls.

"They weren't. Their leader is dead."

She watched the death of their commanding officer, now she expected the coherency to fall apart and for the section to collapse unless the second in command was still alive. If not, then it would turn into a grabbing for power but the weak red head seemed to have his voice heard above all the others.

"It's settled down now. Do you notice how they herd their prey? They're like wolves... or velociraptors."

It wasn't clear on whether or not she was speaking to herself when she said it. Yugiri's decision to liken them to raptors was entirely because she thought those dinosaurs were cool. She'd never really understood them until she got to the living realm where they had inhabited but they were cool.

As the number of demons finally began to dwindle, an assault that had felt like hours but had in fact been only a handful of minutes slowly began to wind down. As one of the final demonic stragglers attempted to squeeze his way through a crevasse that even its mutated form could not manage easily, Alastair brought the blade form of Falke down upon the back of its exposed neck. The first swing didn't behead the creature, causing it instead to flail more vigorously, nor did the second, though it did cause it to grow still, and by the third strike, the deed was done. He paused long enough to wipe the sweat from his forehead before moving to the window to assess the scene outside.

Whatever Yaksha had done, it had certainly worked. Whilst the lone hollow stood unflinching amidst the sea of corpses, Alastair scanned the scene for any other survivors beyond those in his current building. The situation only grew bleaker as he realised that Jenkins was not amongst their number, and the already fragile chain of command had gone with him. His free hand ran through his messy hair, sweeping it back off his face as he attempted to process exactly what was happening, then he finally emerged from the ruins and began to round up those few that survived.

"Alright, fall in on me!" He called out, "And speak up if you saw where the General fell."

Right now it didn't exactly matter what had happened to the poor man, but he had been wearing an earpiece so perhaps they could contact the other teams. They had already been beaten pretty badly, some of the soldiers were sporting assorted wounds whilst the rest - Alastair included - had certainly exerted themselves in the fight. He wished he had some rousing speech to give them, but his throat was dry from the gathered heat and his mind was hardly suited for those on the best of days. Still, his days in the Jagdarmee had not been wasted.

"Listen up. We need a minute to tend to the injured and see what can be recovered from the fallen. I want a perimeter created, centred on that building, in case those creatures come back around for a second pass."

He reached into his pack, pulling out a map of Jefferson that he had been able to pull from records. It was far from accurate, and certainly depicted the city in a much better condition, but perhaps it would suffice.

"Yaksha!" Amber eyes turned in the direction of the hollow once more, and he pointed toward his great wings, "If those things work, perhaps you could take to the skies and give us some aerial reconnaissance? We have been running blindly until now, and whatever is out there is just waiting for another chance to pick some of us off."

Things continued to escalate, and throughout it Yaksha had about as much visible reaction as the statues that had lain in wait for them to approach. The demons were falling in droves, a select few turning away and fleeing, simply trying to save their own skins: This implied that they either feared him more than the one who had brought them here, or that failure to incapacitate the targets hadn't been associated with a terrible fate. Which was interesting in and of itself; one who had brought beasts like this here only to run amok, without any purpose? And then created this trap? Their motives were growing murkier by the moment.

Add onto this their apparent interest in prioritizing and defanging the Vandenreich as they entered the city. The quincies in particular seemed to be an object of focus for them, raising even more questions about some possible past relationship with the organization. Some foe they had once vanquished but not fully slain? Or a person with history with someone within the group? Too many options, too many possibilities. Yaksha's brain moved at ludicrous speeds, but over and over simply struck solid obstructions. He needed to learn more.

And there was the matter of Jenkins. The commander in arms had simply been spirited away, in a manner that made Yaksha curious in the extreme. Phasing through solid matter was an interesting trick, especially when one made that matter selectively permeable to others; it implied a great deal of surveillance, and great precision. They had identified one of the key targets, and quickly handled them. But why take them underground? If the objective was to kill them, there were other ways that could be just as final, and just as decisive. It implied something Yaksha was becoming more and more certain of as the moments passed:

They had set out bait for the Vandenreich, hoping to draw a great number of quincies to the city, but hadn't accounted for what else may have been attracted by that same bait. It was much like a bear wandering towards a hunter lying in wait for wolves to eat the poisoned meat left for them, and mauling the unsuspecting man. They had planned, near to the point of absurdity, how to deal with the quincies. But the vasto lorde? Far less so.

And now one of the surviving quincies seem to be taking lead by virtue of simply being most willing to accept command, approaching and calling out to him. Yaksha made a very concerted effort to close his eyes before ever turning to acknowledge them, wondering for a single idle second if their tone would change in the slightest if they were to look into his eyes for longer than a scant second. They asked him something about his questions, naturally including an insinuation that could be taken as a barb in it. Why was it they continued to believe provoking him would lead to a desirable outcome?

"I can already tell you will become a spectacular commander. Allow me to give you one piece of advice about the best generals: They only ever give commands they know their subordinates already wish to follow."

He held out one hand, allowing it to dangle out in front of him. As he exhaled, the fingers vibrated ever so slightly, and seemed to swell up and out, the tips turning into bulbs that slowly and rhythmically pulsed, bringing to mind fruit growing on a branch in an extremely sped-up motion. They each expanded and began to move in queer, unreadable ways, before at the tip of each finger there was a white flame, no larger than a person's eyeball, hovering. He turned his palm over, blowing upon it, and setting all five flames aloft.

Yaksha took to the skies. Five times, in two seconds. His mind seemed to expand outwards, connecting to each of the flames in a distant, faroff manner, bringing to mind surveillance cameras for a second. And then with his other hand he did the same, allowing it to expand and grow. The process took perhaps ten seconds each time he did it, but he seemed perfectly content to keep doing it until something interrupted the process.

The skies would alight with eyes, for all to see. This city was his territory, and no predator worth their salt allowed their territory to be invaded by others. He would sniff out the culprit of this ridiculous trap, and then he had quite a few questions for them. In the meantime, he would do as much as he could to ensure that the Vandenreich made it out of this place intact. It would do greatly towards his other objective.