Another Headache (Private; Beyril and Atlas)

A pained grunt escaped Harrison as the dart dug into his shoulder, parting flesh with the ease of a heated knife carving through butter. The meister had realised the intent in Savannah's strategy a moment too late, his desperate lunge only serving to prevent the dart from turning him into a well-dressed pin cushion. Adrenaline held his focus in check like the bumpers of a bowling lane and he could feel himself crashing against them. Blurry eyes blinked back the fog and Harrison took a quick survey of his surroundings. He had come to rest in a kneeling position, supported by his metal-clad arm. The ground before him was dotted with blood and shredded where metallic fingers had dug into the dirt for purchase. He lifted Avaline to him, eyeing the crimson streaks painted across the cold steel. That...was on me...

The metal along the barbed tip of Akira's whip hissed as the blood evaporated with the heat in red steaming curls. It was a hiss of satisfaction. The giant of a man was known to have a bit of bloodlust when a fight came along.

Avaline seemed steady, and patient, though what resonated as a sense of worry and concern that she had pushed to the back was evident in their continued resonance. "Your left arm is your strength, now, Mercer. Play into it."

As she moved to coil the whip at her side once more, she dragged the chain along the ground, letting it spark a small line of flames at her feet. It wasn't much, but it offered a simple line of defense, and anything that kept him further than arm's length away from her was necessary, by this point. Slowly, she began to twist her wrist, spinning Akira with the movement until she effectively had a barbed, flaming fan in front of her, acting as an elemental shield while she waited for him to move, not one to kick while someone was down. No, this would be a fair fight; cheap shots were for the sort of scum that they left for Akira to consume.

The meister rose slowly to his feet, metallic hand moving to staunch the flow of crimson from his shoulder. Removing it, he raised the arm slowly, pointing a single, bloody finger at Savannah. "Lucky shot," he mumbled, lips curling into a pained grin. She's willing to aim for a weak spot, but unwilling to exploit it once she's created the opening? Hardly fair, but it can't be helped. We have no choice...we have to move. Dropping low, he kicked off from the dirt, arms moving tight to his body to provide leverage in the event of another attack. Bruised and bleeding, Harrison plowed forth nonetheless, legs blurring as they propelled him headlong towards the inferno.

Akira let his flames pick up, an anxious buildup to the kill shot he always relished.

Avaline pushed a bit further in her own resonance, letting the superhuman strength and speed that came with resonating with a death scythe build up in his system like a drug.

Addy watched on from afar, glancing over her shoulder to the door, wondering where Ezra was in all of this.

Savannah held her ground until he was less than two yards away, immediately proceeding to strafe away, letting Akira continue to ignite a line of flames as she moved. Ducking low, she altered the angle of his spin, increasing the speed of her swing. As Harrison got closer, she would move to the side again, aiming for his shins with the barbed chain of the whip; with any luck, it might even wrap around his legs, though she did not bet on luck.