Old dogs, new tricks. [closed]

[Storm Veritas]

Well, at least you know the way.

Storm Veritas had grown old and haggard, but the magic-infused adventurer still had the ability to move like almost none other. The disappearance of Mephisto was simple enough; there was only one person that bald bastard would be going to visit. The wizard’s pursuit was not one of an old and broken limp, but rather a desperate dash. He started moving out of the smallish edifice, the crowd having gathered around terrified by his movement. The three-deep row circle of human stupidity that surrounded the stucco structure had begun to part like a paper slowly being torn apart, but the electromancer had no time for patience. From his low sprint, he bolted forward, lunging upward and driving his foot off the shoulder of some slow-moving mouth breather. There was a gasp and a collection of groans and yells at the rude maneuver, but nothing that would register above his singular focus. He would return to Shinsou, and he would kill Mephisto.

He’s a talker. Egomaniacs always talk. You’ve got a few seconds, even with his teleporting bullshit.

The sprint was fast and liquid, his movements smooth, fluid, and driving muddy earth behind him with each pounding foot. Cleverly, he decided to fly there, using his metal soled-shoes to his advantage. With a strong electric pulse under-toe, he was catapulted fifty feet ahead, at a speed that was simply astonishing. He repeated this move through the street three or four times, rocketing ahead and accumulating speed. His knees and hips ached at the force; the old body yielding at the joints and tendons. The final burst sent him rocketing into the closed front door of the small hospital, shattering the wood and sending a dull ache all across the right side of his body, which he had narrowly pivoted to absorb the impact. The wave of pain was fast coming, but there was no time to reflect.

Instead, horrified employees merely yelped at the splintering by their front door, their eyes darting back and forth from the front door to the room some twenty feet ahead on his right. Without a word, the tired wizard huffed forward, his lungs burning as he came ahead low and smoothly. From the corridor, he could see only a vacant section of Shinsou’s room, but the explosive entrance had certainly betrayed any opportunity for surprise. One exasperated nurse, a pretty but chubby blonde, held the flat of her hand up to Storm, holding two fingers down by the flat edge as a signal. Silently, an appreciative nod to the brave little ball of dough.

He’s against the wall. Ambush.

Unsure of Shinsou’s position, the notion of blasting the entire room to liquid hell with his electricity was out, so Veritas opted for a simpler solution. His heart still racing, he leapt ahead, tumbling nimbly into the room in a neat somersault. Crossing the threshold he was met with nothing but the smell of rubbing alcohol, followed by a sizzle-crack of lightning that had just missed above him. Spinning on the floor, Storm Veritas pushed forward a hand to pulse his own sizzling electric justice at Mephisto. Unfortunately, nothing was produced.

SHIT! Too many of those burst-jumps must have worn me down. Just a few seconds should do it.

Arius Mephisto looked down his aquiline nose with a wide and twisted grin, his bald head shining by the nearby gaslight. His hands had been outstretched, lowered to his waist, and he stepped forward slightly as he readjusted the large ring on his left hand with a sneer.

“Impressive speed for an old man. If you had been that brave in Radasanth, we’d be sipping wine in the Capitol, wouldn’t we?!” The speech was deliberate, controlled, and gentle, a sort of relaxed tone unbefitting the situation. Even more foolishly, he had stepped in front of a doctor’s table, putting himself between Storm Veritas and a tray full of sharp and pointy metal things.

Goddamned amateurs. Not everyone deserves this gift.

Storm reached his fingers out now, a few seconds rest restoring his strength to pull the scalpel through the monologuing fool. Arius’s eyebrows arched with surprise horror, only to be followed by a return to the same snarl.

“Nice try, but I’m a whole host of horrors you didn’t bother to check in on. No one uses magic on my watch but me. You two were too damned busy staring in mirrors and running from battle to see my growth; I’ve been stronger every day since that meteor missed us. Your time is OVER!”

He fired another bolt at the greying magician, who leapt to his left to escape disaster. Without his magic propulsion, Storm was slower now, feeling a horrible burn in his left ankle as he rolled behind the bed which held a still unconscious but visibly very much alive Shinsou. Unintentionally, he had put his friend in the crossfire. Worse, getting hit with lightning fucking hurts.

“I was just disconnecting a couple tubes here and there, figured I’d leave an easier cleanup over here for the orderlies. Figured Shin had at least tried, so I’d put him away gently. I guess not.” Arius was taunting now as Storm peeked under the bed, spying his toes turned to Vaan Osiris.

Got to hurt him and get him away.

It was a poor plan, but the only one available, and Storm kicked over the bedside table opposite Mephisto. He then lunged under the bed as the shattering porcelain lamp caught Arius’ attention, slashing feebly at the ankles of his newfound enemy. The [i]kriss[i] dagger had found its way into Storm’s hands almost automatically, and did a nice job of carving a single crimson mark across the front of both shins. Arius instinctively stepped back, assessing the superficial damage. Sliding out from the bed on the side of Arius, Storm swiped once more as he rolled forward, missing as he tumbled into the hallway off his right foot. Another vicious blast of that sweet, sweet electricity rocked the doorjamb behind him, sending a splinter of wood into the skin on his back.

There was no time to create distance to escape Mephisto’s seal, and no way to get near enough to him to save Shinsou. The end had come.