The Library of Fandom

[The Mage of Space]

"I'M NOT A CLONE, AND I'M NO FAILURE!" Brett charged Ansem again, swinging his sword every which way to see if he could stop the invisible hands.  

[silentdraconis]

Allan sighed, watching boredly for a moment, before inhaling deeply and roaring in a voice that could cut a battle-field in silent halves and stagger any being with ears to hear: "gET OUT NOW!" A pale, imperious finger pointing stiffly at the door. Even Ansem, true or false, was bound by the laws of the library. Which was why Allan had his pipe, and why Allan was ordering both him and Brett out.
The first and hundredth floors were places of safety. Safety, not combat.
In an act of no surprise considering his loyalties (although surprising in that he knew Ansem could take care of himself), Allan intercepted Brett's blade with a hand wrapped in chains, grabbing the cutting edge of the sword and glaring with lurid red eyes through smoke-black bangs. "Your safety is guaranteed on the first and hundredth floors. Since you are jeopardizing this by foolishy attacking the most powerful man in the Tenth Sea Library, I must ask you to remove yourself, for your own safety." He slung him toward the door, shoving him in that direction with his other hand before turning back to Ansem with the same vehement glare. "As you have taken it upon yourself to ignore the rules laid down and endanger the visitors of the Library, choosing to openly invite them to harm no less, I must also require you to leave. You two may continue your combat outside, an it please you. But you will Get. Out."
He never once used the name Ansem when addressing this man so much taller and, certainly at the moment, so much more powerful. He made an almost ludicrous figure, glaring up two and three-quarters of a foot, wings stiff, face set like stone, eyes blazing. It was ironic, that Allan thought of the taller, older looking man as an impudent bratty-child just then, when the winged Destroyer was the one who looked so much like the defiant rebellious progeny.  

[silentdraconis]

"Grk-" The stone rumbled as the Harbringer punched through, dust swirled, blocking the other side from view. Being thrown around like a rag doll was an unusual sensation for a Destroyer. So was pain, of course, a far less common feeling than that of being a rag-doll.
But Pain he kind of liked. It was so different from everything else, so sharp. A sensation he could taste...

As the dust from his passage settled, and the stone through which he'd broken ceased to crumble down, Allen's silhouette appeared through the haze, much reminiscent of his first entrance into ISA. And when the pale fog had fallen, he was easily seen, one arm against the rough new entrance, the other at his side, leaning casually in the impromptu door. And if his jaw was set tightly, his eyes a painful, hot red like the braziers in which torture irons were kept, or if there was a hint of stiffness to his ease, well, he had just been thrown through a wall. His black clothes were dusty, tannish-gray powder stark against the crisp black dress-shirt and the loose black pants, dulling the red accents; some of it had even dared settle on his ebony wings (one of which was not sitting quite like it should).
The Destroyer was back for more.
He pushed off the wall and walked forward, almost arrogant, certainly not scared; he was weaker now that Ansem had tightened the bonds, but somethings never changed: he would always get up, always come back, and always be summoned once again. And he would always be inhuman.
He was grinning, too, despite the impossible weight of the binding on his power, despite the pain he felt but did not heed. It was a wolfish grin he displayed, not in any way describable as 'sane'. The point of his canine showed in a gleaming declaration that he was not Human in any sense, a pointed reminder that all his 'therapy' was only a show, and that, when all was said and done, he was still the Harbringer of Destruction, a creature incomparable to anything on Earth. (And apparently too stubborn to know when to give up, lay down and die.)  

[supremeviva]

eviltwinears

"No."
This man was Ansem, but he was different at the same time. It seemed he longer cared for the rules. He was driven almost. He was different, but far too much the same.
"You will get out."
The chains binding Allen tightened fast pulling his limbs and head back with a painful sounding crack.
"NOW!"
A tremendous number of fists slammed into Allen's open midriff, slamming him backwards through the wall.

A powerful beam of light streaks towards Ansem as Viva explodes from his hiding place and reengauges Asnem. "This time, no running you coward!"  

[supremeviva]

eviltwinears

A beam of light is a beam of light.
It probably would have hurt Ansem if it had been more.
But, as a beam of light, it was nothing but a magic spotlight.
And Ansem was good in the spotlight.
Invisible hands grabbed Viva from all angles, slowly crushing him to death.
"Who runs? My business in Tryven was done and I had more pressing things on my schedule than dealing with weaklings who believe themselves to be superheroes because of their ancestry."

Viva smiles as the beam suddenly expoldes with great force. He ingores the hands knowing they are no real threat. It would take far more than some pressure to hurt him. "Right....sure that what they all say. And you would think twice before attacking a Ancient. If you had anything to think with of course.  

[silentdraconis]

Allen, at this point, could have cared less about the rules: if Ansem was going to keep ignoring them, then so could he, and it certainly didn't help that the aste of pain excited him, encouraging the fool-hardy combat to continue

His sudden lunge could be described as reckless, or, by some admiring (vapid) fan, as part of a cunning ploy to get beat the crud out of Ansem.
Most likely, it was just reckless.
But even in his condition, broken winged and bound by heavy handed chains, he was fast, too fast, appearing in arm's reach of Ansem in a blurred instant, (Allen's arms being shorter, he was a bit closer than long-armed Ansem's 'arms reach'.) Pale hands, the sources of so many great Disasters, caught the taller man's shoulders with only the not-effort of a slight jump, his speed decreasing not the slightest as momentum shoved with the force of a full-sized destroyer.

Perhaps it should be said that Allen did not have the kind of self-preservative sense God gave a gnat.  

[supremeviva]

eviltwinears

It was unfortunate that the one who had been the sort to take a bullet for the head librarian almost literally did.
Allen's foolhardy lunge connected solidly with the surprised Ansem mere seconds before Viva's light beam exploded.
This caused Allen's body to act like a shield of flesh, taking all of the force of the blast.

"Oh, so the ant believes that he has a sharp tongue? If the 'Ancients' that you apparently worship , including yourself, are so powerful, then why are you the only one left? Hm?"

The hands were not intended to kill him, just restrain him.
And that they did well.
There was no way he could move a muscle without killing himself.
That was guaranteed.
A sharp knife floated towards his head, obviously going to remove the 'thing he had to think with'.
That is, before another invisible hand showed up with a machine gun.

((Do you have a profile for this "Viva", lad? Very few characters can claim such a thing without godmodding.))

((yes umm forgot what page it was on...))  

[supremeviva]

((top of page eight ohh and Sou Jara has looked over and apporved of this profile...))  

[supremeviva]

Viva's eyes flare as he uses his telekinetic powers. He bends the barrel of the gun and jams the firing chamber.