Stop. Basket time.

[Sebastian]

The stupid jock had pulled his gun even as he wove a wall of air and launched it at Bas. Bas didn't even think. He was in it now. Sometimes you took the hit to get off a better one.

He released his weave- the fire arrows he'd learned playing at Aurora's place- just as the wall slammed into him knocking him onto his back. In the back of his mind he thought of his suit. Bastard!! The hit and fall caused his arrows to fly wild and as he fell he saw only a few flew toward the guy and girl. He rolled over immediately and got to his feet, seeing one of them jutting out of prick's shoulder, hearing his screams.

And then he noticed lots of screams. The people who had been milling about and had given a little space at the beginning were now in a full fledged panic as some of them too had been hit. People rushed about, the air filled with the noises of chaos and panic. He smiled. This is what he needed, what he knew was gonna happen beginning that night at Kallistis. No more sneaking around, no more suspicion.

Only a second had gone by since he'd gotten up. The guy had dropped to a knee and his gun hand was down on the ground but looked to be getting up. Bas quickly formed his heavy fire-bo staff, much shorter than before. He wanted to feel this, to feel the hit in his arm and shoulder, the way a lead pipe felt in your hand, solid, an extension of your body, and the tchunk of the impact.

Only five feet separated them and he closed the distance in moments, the fire-staff swinging with all his strength and slamming into the man's upper arm instead of his head. Damn! He had raised himself up by this time. The impact was good and strong though.

But the man was solid and took the hit even as he barreled into Bas, knocking them both to the ground. The impact of the ground and the man landing on top of him knocked the breath out of him, but he ground his teeth and tried to roll the guy over so he could get out. The man was big and only moved enough for him to get a hand free. It was enough though and he grabbed the guy's shoulder and viciously gouged at it.

[Ivan Sarkozy]

The arrow hit really hard, burning like a son of a bitch, dropping him to a knee for just a moment. But what really burned were the screams of the people. Thought flew from his mind, feeling, pain, everything. All that mattered was stopping him. No matter what. He lunged forward, taking a hard burning hit that felt like it might have broken his arm, but he never even stopped, just barreled forward and slammed into the guy, knocking him to the ground.

The guy was wiry and moved fast, trying to leverage him off him. Ivan was trying to roll the guy over so as to....what? Bind him? The man had the power. He needed to hit the guy hard and knock him out.

Blinding pain suddenly lanced through his arm and shoulder, as the man grabbed it and squeezed. He gritted his teeth as he suddenly yanked back to release his arm from the guy's hold.

It was what the guy was counting on and he scrabbled out from under him and onto his feet quickly. Damn but he was fast, getting to his feet and kicking at his head with his heavy boot. Ivan rolled over and the hit missed him. He rolled to his feet even as the guy swung that stick at him again, the look of raw animal rage on his face. The hit to his side was painful but Ivan didn't stop, just swung around as the guy drew back his arm to strike again. Ivan hit him in the face, in the eye, a good solid hit and the guy looked dazed for a moment. Ivan didn't even give him time to think, just slammed a fist at his face again, felt the nose crumple under the impact. The guy stumbled back, his arms dropping. Again and again he struck and the guy fell back, but still wouldn't stop. He hated these skinny guys. You had to beat them to hamburger before they went out.

As he went in for another hit, the man wavering less than a foot from him, he noticed too late the stick at his waist level. Suddenly he felt a burning agony as the thing pierced its way into his left side and everything stopped. He dropped to his knees, feeling the thing rip out of him.

He saw the feral look in the man's ruined face. Saw his death coming with the swinging pipe. He felt failure wash over him, the screams of the injured filling his ears.

[Zoya Bocharov]

The barrage of flaming arrows frightened her enough to duck and scream. When she looked up, everything was much clearer than before. Her heart beat so loudly in her chest she could imagine all around could hear it, except those that remained were too busy screaming. By some miracle, the arrows hadn’t touched her. Ivan, however, was another story.

Her Supercop was hurt. He was hurt and still fighting the madman that had suddenly turned what would have been a fun outing into a nightmare. “Stop!”
She screamed at the men over the noise but it didn’t do any good, not that she actually expected it to make a difference.

If she’d had doubts before, she knew now the man could do as Ayden had described. He was like her, but she had no idea how to stop him. Feeling useless, she watched as the men fought, only to watch Ivan fall to his knees one last time.

Stop!

Stop!

She screamed the thought in her head but could not move. Her eyes remained fixed on the suited stranger, and she watched in disbelief as the air around him thickened.

Moisture was pulled from the air, condensing around the crazed man as it often did around a cold beverage. The process was faster, and large enough to engulf his body, closing in on his face and cutting off any chance at breathable air. Instead of oxygen, he was being met with water, and all she could do was watch him and wish him to stop moving… to stop the chaos…

[Sebastian]

The guy's fist was like iron and he swung it like a club. His face already hurt in a million places and he he could barely see out of one eye. He tried to block, but he was moving slower, his body not responding as quickly. Umph Another hit and he nearly went down. Inside, though, it was worse, the power that he held writhed in his grasp, a beast he rode and tried to hold on to bucking and kicking, as if squirming in his hands, threatening to bite him if he lost control.

He was losing it. Rage burned in him and he fervently prayed, tried to strengthen his control. The guy came in for another hit and Bas knew this next one would do it.

Nope. Not him. No fucking way. He never went down. Ever. He swung up the fire-stick into the man's middle, felt the resistance for a moment, then the puncture, the slide in.

He smiled as he saw the man's eyes go wide in surprise, gave a bark of a laugh even as he tasted blood. "That's right, bitch,"
he whispered. The man fell back dropping to his knees and he held on to the stick, felt it pull from the man's body.

The screams and cries around him were just background noise. Finally, it could end. He raised his stick, wanting this fucker to feel it crash into his head.

He felt water pelting him in the face. It kept coming, like heavy rain being driven at you. He couldn't see, he kept closing his eyes to keep from being hit. And it kept coming, more and more, he felt it getting into up his nostrils. He choked and tried to cover his face. He didn't know what was happening. All the anger and rage inside him seemed to drain away, washed away by this storm. And then he was drowning. Standing there, in the middle of the street, he felt like he was floundering in water, just like he had as a child, unable to swim.

His arms windmilled as he tried to dodge or block the water but it didn't matter. I cant breath!!! he thought over and over again, now drowning in panic he prayed but nothing happened.

No! Suddenly he felt the power pulled from him, as if yanked. Terror and loss threatened to overwhelm him. She left him? Why had she left him now? He couldn't breath and the Holy Mother had abandoned him! Hail Mary, full of grace..." The litany played in his mind as the he felt the pain in his lungs, the screaming need to breathe, begged for her mercy.

Like a wild animal he thrashed about, sloshing through the water that surrounded him, pushing through it, trying to get away from it. Water resisted him at every turn, making his movements sluggish.

But deep inside, he refused to quit. Fighting harder and harder, and O my God I can't breathe and why have you left me Holy Mother and I've got to get away from this and why won't this stop, where is this coming from and get off of me! and let me go! and God my God please don't forsake me, Blessed Virgin hear me and let me go! and I will. not. stop. not stop. never stop pushing and straining and my head hurts but I WILL NOT STOP WILL NOT STOP WILL NOT STOP!!!!

...and suddenly he seemed to push through something and he felt air, blessed holy beautiful air and he breathed in, his lungs screaming with the searing pain of being filled. He didn't look back, didn't wait.

Stumbling, half running half careening, he ran into the dispersing crowds. No more thought except one. I've got to get away, got to get away, away away away....