The Thickets Thicken (Blueman/Open)

Silence. A serene moment in nature. The light from the sun hit the trees' canopies, filtering a dim but ray on the forest floor. Birds happily tweeted. Deer gracefully grazed. Playful hedgehogs trotted along as a flying squirrel glided across the treetops. It was a rather small clearing surrounded by trees, just big enough to fit an average sized room. To the left of the clearing there was a small river running through which allowed the wildlife to drink and eat the fish that darted along the currents. It was a perfect example of natural balance; just enough for everything to survive and live a long life. The heartbeat of the Jungle could almost be felt if someone sat on the ground and listened, the breaths and steps of animals synchronized to it, the flaps of birds and chirps of insects playing along to the rhythm of life. The serenade of nature continued quietly, the beats counted by the drops of dew falling from a glistening leaf. The conductor of the forest shone through the protective canopy, happily keeping the harmony in tact.

There was a rest. The song-sheet tore. Now, the tempo hastened. The birds evacuated, the deer fled, the hedgehogs retreated, and the squirrel hid. The peaceful tone in the forest was gone in an instant, the constant change in the music prone to nature. In the Jungle, everything composes music, and the loudest always prevailed. A distant crescendo sounded, the fury behind it creating the tone for this song. It was a primal note, followed by the rush of leaves that closed in at every breath. A moment later, the clearing's atmosphere was broken, the once gentle area now invaded by the marching death. A beast, and an alien. Not native to the forest, detached from the food chain. Was he at the top, or the bottom?

The sleek, black demon growled again, crouching to signal a pounce. The foreigner bore the claw of a demon and the teeth of a monster. He wore a tanktop and cargo's, both in camouflaged color. The Consul had taken a vacation to the forests of Kwaon in an attempt to train, and to realize his old potential. In this universe, he knew nothing that he used to. There were no strings of fate for him to pull, no viscous apparition for him to hide behind when things got tough. There was him. Only him. It was time for him to truly become a hunter, the Stalker from Above. He had hidden in the tree's and got the pounce on the panther, able to wound it's right forearm before it retaliated. A large, but overall shallow, cut had been raked across his chest. It tore through his shirt, but it really wasn't bleeding too badly. Dirt littered the young boy's face as he took deep, heavy breaths. If he hadn't wounded the panther, the boy would have surely not been able to outrun it and would have been devoured.

Let's go. Azmot said, and the panther seemed to growl in response. It rushed him, prompting the Consul to duck and drive the hilt of Betrayal deep into it's neck, causing it to contort mid-air and yelp. It landed on it's back, quickly righting itself while coughing. Azmot crouched with it, the two combatants now only a mere 8 or so feet apart. The both charged at the same time, the panther leaping towards the boy as he drove forwards, the two trading blows. The panther managed to hook Azmot with it's paws, extending it's claws to damage his left ear and cheek. At the same time, Azmot drove his sword upwards, piercing it's underbelly while restraining from driving it all the way through. The hook made Azmot fly downwards, the panther maintaining a surprisingly power posture with a sword sticking into it's chest. Azmot rose slowly, grasping Cruelty in his hand as he held his cheek with the other. The Panther let out a low moan, collapsing with Betrayal in it's gullet. Azmot was glad it didn't fall downwards and pierce it's back; he wanted it's skin. Azmot walked over to the barely alive feline, kneeling out of respect. He didn't want it to suffer. Taking a vial of some water from Altostratus' park out of one of his pockets, Azmot poured the drink down the feline's throat. It didn't resist. Slowly, Azmot watched the beast take a final breath, and a final exhale. It didn't suffer. The poisonous water was a gentle poison, which usually takes a very long time for the person to die. However, since the panther was in such a state, it acted quickly.

Pulling Betrayal out of the panther, Azmot moved over to the stream and set both of his blades down, cupping water to drink from the river. After he quenched his thirst, Azmot dipped both swords in the water to wash the blood off of his swords before sheathing them. He stood, tired from the event. He was still invigorated from the whole ordeal, though. He had walked in the trees and used tricks from a survival guide he got to track the Panther. It had been hours of stalking until the panther eventually didn't notice when he got close and bolt. Azmot would wait a bit and rest before he skinned the animal and returned to Altostratus, sitting on a nearby rock to rest. It was time for a restful requiem. Hopefully Azmot didn't have another encounter. The animals would not return, for the presence of a predator still lingered.

(Framework in use, disguised as Azmot. -40 Source)

"What? We killing Animal's now?" A sick grin and chalky voice-- familiar to the one doing the listening. He sat in a tree above, observing his quarry. The leader of Altostratus. Azmot. Time to test his metal-- not necessarily in combat but through psychology. How well would he do against himself? "Surely, there is something else we could be doing besides hunting. Isn't there a city we should be running?" He was wearing gloves, with another pair in his hands. "Here," he called. "Put this on. Don't get blood on our hands."

"Here they call me... Azmot, ruler of Altostratus."

Yukina knew an Azmot. But the one - the person, the fake - she had met in MadCross, it didn't add up. Perhaps Azmot were more common a name than she had thought, but still, it warranted an investigation. She had travelled to Altostratus, seeking the leader, the 'consul' as they called them in this realm, to extract the truth. She had her methods, her plan to find the truth. It involved a knife, two swords and a gun. It hadn't taken long to find him, and since then she had been following, biding her time. She kept a distance, not wanting to give the game away. There were a number of times when she could've pounced, taken her prey and dragged him into a dark corner to get her way... but he seemed to be going somewhere. Perhaps patience was the order of the day, his destination might've revealed more of the truth than she could've hoped for.

Eventually, after a somewhat taxing journey across the continent, they reached a rainforest. Yukina felt comfortable enough in a forest, immediately taking to the trees to continue her pursuit. She was speedy, agile... the trees felt something like home. She watched as he engaged with the panther, cocking her head to the side as she watched him kill it. It was curious... had he come all this way, just to kill an animal? She knew Azmot wasn't the brightest, but still... that seemed a little too much. She was preparing to jump down, to make her presence known and to finally work out what the hell was going on, when there was another voice... no... the same voice... just from somewhere else...

In a tree across the clearing, she saw him. Another one, a second Azmot. She retreated behind the trunk of her own tree, gathering her thoughts and wondering what to make of it all. It was beginning to make sense, the doppleganger, her doppleganger, was also impersonating Azmot. She hadn't honestly expected him to be telling the truth back then, but still... this was curious. She peeked around the side of the tree once more, wanting to see how the situation unfolded.

Azmot caught the gloves without missing a beat, sighing at the situation. They felt real. Had he subconsciously pack a pair of gloves? Was his mind playing tricks on him? It wouldn't be the first time. Looking at the mirage, Azmot pondered on it's existence while slipping on the gloves. Was it a subset deviation of his anger which built up and fractured, like Sid? Was it a remnant of his other lifes, like the Husk. It could very well be the Azmot before he acquired his golden eyes (which were now brown), a demon youth with the just enough sense to obey. However, instead of doing countless deductions, Azmot redundantly asked himself these questions... out-loud.

So, what do we call you? Or are you just a visitor like Zihark? Azmot said plainly. In truth he was saddened by the fact of another presence in his mind; he had finally escaped his illness in this universe, or so he thought. But here he was, in the tree and gazing at him as if a predator. He ran his hand through his hair, a now long-time habit that he did when he was thinking. What would come of this new split? Would he become a sword, or be a sword? Would he shield Azmot from pain, or will he inflict it?

"Well, don't think of me as a presence. Its mildly offensive, actually. Think of it like this: I'm you, and you're talking to yourself. I'm a manifestation of your ego. You been carrying those gloves on you the whole time. You'd merely forgotten, and its easier for you to comprehend 'acquiring' them this way." He slipped down from the tree, kneeling over the corpse of the predator slain. "We should definitely seek better game. Animals are too easy, ya think?" He glanced over, swearing that they were being watched but bushing the feeling off quickly. It didn't particularly matter whether Azmot was in danger or not. He would be fine, and as long as Azmot survived onward for his plans nothing could go poorly. "Seek a person. Somebody from MadCross, or a Kwaon native. The rain-forest must have something fun to kill." He stood back up, cracking his back. "Right?"

Gloves. She couldn't help but smile as the Azmot in the trees offered the other gloves, trying to convince him that he was a figment of his imagination, that he had always been carrying to gloves. It was convincing enough, or at least it would've been, if Yukina hadn't known the truth. She could see both of them... they were both real. The one in the trees was the Blueman, as far as she could gather, but the real question was why? What was he hoping to achieve with this Azmot, by coercing him in this way. There was only one way to be sure.

She pulled the mask down to cover her eyes, her hair shifting to a harsh shade of white, her skin paling to match. She had met Azmot before, but with the mask, different hair and skin - he wouldn't recognise her. They had only met once, and Yukina was admittedly best known for her hair. Satisfied that her disguise was solid enough, she slipped down the base of the tree, looking directly at Azmot - the real Azmot.

"The unprovoked, unnecessary slaughter of Kwaon wildlife by foreigners is a class A offence." She stated, making it up as she went along. "Relinquish your weapons and continue with me back to the town, or suffer the consequences of your actions." She was putting on a slight accent, aiming to impersonate the one Kwaon local she had met before. She made a conscious effort to avoid looking at the Azmot in the trees, perhaps she could help convince Azmot it was all in his head... for whatever reason Blueman had. At the least, she could help break Azmot down. It was always easier to build a new slave from scratch.

Better game... Yeah, makes sense. I'm out here to train, after all. Azmot said, agreeing with himself. He made a lot of sense. However, as the masked women dropped down, the Consul felt obliged to ignore the apparition; he didn't want to look a fool in front of someone. Listening to the woman, Azmot nodded as she read the charges. There were regulations involving wildlife slaughter, and Azmot had been notified of this before he left. He really didn't think it would be a big deal, but the Consul was now very happy that one of his Praetor's had given him his identification and Note of Right.

You'll find that I'm the Consul of Altostratus, which allows me leverage over this situation. Azmot said, flashing his ID. The title really doesn't matter though. I have a 3 day permit for hunting rights in this square mile of the Jungle. Azmot slipped the notarized document from his pocket, which contained all of the necessary information to protect him... legally. He still had no idea how the seemingly local girl would react to his killing of animals. Some of the locals were very protective of the forest. Besides, it's Wabbit Season. Azmot quipped.

The imposter's eyes narrowed as he noticed the person approaching. He nodded at Azmot, agreeing with him in the face of this newcomer before turning to the boy. "Actually," he corrected him, "you just killed a panther." He then looked back to the girl. "Even so, we are more than within our right to be here. Hey, remember what I said about 'better game'?" He grinned. "Let the hunt begin."

As quick as he presented the document, Yukina had pulled the gun from it's holster and fired directly into the paper. The thing crumpled and burnt in his hand, falling to the ground in a heap of burning paper.

"...Oops..." She said, returning the weapon to it's holster. "If you really think the ruler Altostratus, that technological vulgarity in the sky, has any authority in our rainforest you are sorely mistaken." She concluded, slowly drawing her two swords from their place at her back. It had been a while since she had used two swords at once, but she was more than capable.

"So, now, if you would kindly stop this vile display we can return to Iwoli and you can meet your fate. Or we can settle your punishment here, if that's more your style."

Your really can't talk about style with what you've got on. Me however; I'm stylish. Azmot smirked, blowing a kiss to the masked woman. Unsheathing both Betrayal and Cruelty, the youth glanced at his imagination. Looking back at the woman, Azmot spoke to himself, which could be seen as Azmot talking to the woman as well. Prey. At least the panther was cool. You're... shabby. He said, dashing towards the woman. As he got within an acceptable distance, he level-changed and slid on his rather slick shoes, as if he was surfing the earth. He could really only do it for a couple of seconds because of the friction, but he needed less than one. He slid lowly for about 4 feet and did a head-level slash with his right blade, Cruelty, and kept Betrayal above his head to protect himself.

If successful, this attack would hit the upper thighs and abdomen. Azmot was fast, but it wasn't really a very smart attack. He was just trying to bait out a react-able response, figuring he had the advantage. He was warmed up from his "fight" with the panther. She was, presumably, still warming up. It was about to get really, really hot.

He grinned as the young man lunged forward on the attack and leaned against the tree. "Leave her alive, though. You shouldn't kill females. They have to keep up a breeding population. Judging by her chubby hips she could give birth easily, and probably already has." He smacked the tree and a banana fell from it. He began to eat it without even opening the peel. "Man, this banana is the shit."

"Hmph. Seems to me your ego's so big it could be another person." She mocked, knowing full well the Blueman had identified himself as such when Azmot asked who he was, mere moments earlier. Then the youth began his attack, sliding along the ground with his weapons outstretched. It was an admittedly poor attempt at an attack, easily blocked by the woman by connecting each of her swords with one of his, immediately halting his slide and attempt at an attack. His poor decision had left him down low, and now that their weapons were locked - vulnerable. She aimed a swift kick towards his face, with enough force that - if successful - the snap would likely break his nose.

She ignored the Blueman, for now at least. She already had a part of his finger, and if he kept up his shitty attitude next time she wouldn't be so kind when choosing an appendage to remove.

Azmot became excited as the girl locked up with him. Mmmm, I didn't know you forest people could talk so dirty. Azmot said as she drove her kick upwards. He let up on his pressure, letting her weapons put more pressure on him and allowing him to go lower. He used his far foot to kick himself to the right and dropped his arms lower so that when her kick executed her foot would end up to the upper right side of his head, his arms on either side of her. She might have even been knocked off balance from the shift in momentum at the same moment she drove upwards, a crunching sort of motion likely to derive from it. As soon as the kick reached it's apex, Azmot would move forward and use his right arm to deliver an elbow to her stomach. He could still feel the wind of her kick, honestly. The woman was good, probably better than him. It would be up to him to outmaneuver her before she could do so. If his elbow hit, Azmot would use her body like a wall and push off, applying more pressure and allowing him to get some distance between them.

"I mean, seriously, this banana man. This fucking banana." He continued to eat it, chewing happily through the peel. "Kwaon suck as a place to live, but it has the best bananas. I think its secret lies in the soil." He looked over to the girl and boy fighting, acknowledging them. "Maybe I should help out? I can... hit her with bananas. There's a lot over here." He was talking aloud but to himself. "Maybe I can woo her with my charms... nah." He gave some more thought. "Ey yo! Bitch! Want a banana?"

He avoided the kick, releasing the pressure on their blades in the process, before aiming an elbow to her stomach. She attempted to continue the momentum of her failed kick in order to avoid the blow as she fell backwards, his attack still connected, albeit with slightly less force than he may have intended. She continued her movement backwards, catching herself with her hands before her head smacked into the ground, releasing grip on one of her sword's in the process. Landing in a crouching position and facing Azmot, she pulled her gun from it's holster with her now free hand, quickly firing a shot to her opponent's abdomen.

She shot a quick glare towards the Blueman during the break in their combat. What was he trying to achieve, exactly? He was trying to insult her, provoke her into attacking him, when at the moment she was the only thing holding his flimsy charade of being a figment of Azmot's imagination together. Much longer and she would snap, blow the whole thing and be forced to kill them both. Oh well, if it had to be done, it had to be done.

(-30, 20 remaining)

Azmot heard himself speak against the masked woman, insulting her relentlessly. Wow, even Azmot wasn't this mean. This fragment must have been some sort of vulgar offset of himself, which was weird because he figured he was vulgar enough. Azmot could have sworn that the woman glanced at his fractured mirage, but it might have been due to the dirt he ate when she shot him. It slightly sizzled against his skin as it impacted his abdomen, touching the sensitive panther wound he had received. Azmot fell over, dirt coming over his face for a moment. As soon as his back hit the ground, he used his legs to run himself upright, doing a sort of rotation similar to a break-dancing move. Using his elbow as a pivot point, the Consul quickly stood, keeping both Betrayal and Cruelty in his tight grasp. Noticing that the girl was down a weapon, for the time being, he charged, this time doing a horizontal slash with his right blade, Cruelty, before doing a thrust with Betrayal right after he swung. It was beginning to become quite the workout.

"No? No banana? Kay." He resumed eating the banana. "I mean, its not like you coouldn't use some healthy food there. I mean, with your crooked face?" He chuckled. "Its not like bananas could fix it, but you could pretend that you're meant to have one ear about an eight of an inch higher than the other. Your eyes seem uneven too. You should fix that." He was purposely being mean. If he could draw her to him, it would open up her to attack from Azmot. She probably wouldn't fall for it though. She seemed too experienced.

The bullet connected, that was something, at least. Apparently she had struck a wound he had received from the panther, a fact she noted for later. Exploitation of an existing injury was something of a hobby of hers, much like twisting a dagger implanted in flesh, or maybe extracting teeth. He charged again, aiming a slash at her side, which she parried with her remaining sword, using the force of the connection to push herself away from his blade, narrowly avoiding the following lunge. She then swung her sword around, aiming a strike to his shoulder, before following the move with a quick gunshot to his foot. This boy was good, but she felt as though she was competent enough to defeat him, as long as the blue guy didn't interfere.

He continued critiquing her appearance, perhaps trying to throw her off. It was frustrating her, but she wouldn't be swayed from her objective. Azmot would be broken, and then she would take him, steal him away from the blue man and make him her own. A wicked smile, perfection.

Azmot felt himself moved by the parry, his lunge off balance and more clumsy than he had intended. Then, she made an attempt at slashing away his shoulder. Even though he was still affected by the momentum of the lunge, he managed to sidestep just enough for the wound to be only an inch and a half deep, at most. It stung immensely, much deeper than his previous two wounds. It seemed that all of the pain tolerance he had built up in the other universe really didn't mean jack shit in this one. It would really suck to loose his arm again.

As Yukina drew her pistol, Azmot managed to do a little leg-spread to dodge the attack, snapping back into his fighting stance. This girl was getting on Azmot's nerves. He just wanted to let out all of his aggression, to really give it to her hard. Gritting his teeth, Azmot felt Cruelty start to pulsate in his hand, a very distance voice calling out to him.

Do it.... Let go of your ambitions. It seemed to say.

Azmot would have done it, too, if the other personality had not been present. If he gave into them now, he would never be able to rid himself of them. Calming down, Azmot tossed away the voice's call, rejecting it's aide. However, this time he would let the woman make the first move. His last two attempts hadn't been too successful.

Yukina stepped away from Azmot, who was now apparently waiting for her to make a move. She slowly returned her gun to it's holster, before bending down and picking up her second sword once more. She had to be smart about this - she didn't have access to any of her old magic or abilities, combat was purely dependent on her physicality and athleticism. She darted forward, feigning to the boy's left before quickly switching to his right, swinging her left hand sword around in an arc, aimed at his right shoulder, while simultaneously piercing forward with her right hand sword, aimed at the wound she had uncovered earlier. Find a wound, and exploit it. That was her game plan, and if she stuck with it, she was sure she could win this little brawl.

"This just keeps getting better and better," he giggled. "Hey, Azmot! How are you getting outmaneuvered so much? She's like a big, huge target. Really big. TAKE THE SHOOT NUB." He would finish eating his banana, hit the tree, and catch another. These things were tasty.

Azmot resisted a laugh as his other person continued to insult the woman. It was starting to get ridiculous, honestly. If this woman could hear what this man was saying, she might snap. As the woman came forward, Azmot took both of his blades and swung them across her person simultaneously, most likely hitting both blades away. Instead of attacking, Azmot felt that he should slow down. Why was he fighting again? Because his other self insisted on it. Why not just go in to the authorities and prove his right to hunt?

Oh yeah. Because he would probably get killed. Still, Azmot felt like he had just awoke from a daze. He was so cruel and rushed into the battle. Ok, time out. Can we talk about this or something? Azmot said, letting his guard down.

He wanted a break, perhaps there was indeed a better way to go about this. She put her weapons away, before raising a single finger in front of his face, a sign to wait, before drawing her hand away and backhanding him with enough potential force to knock him off his feet. She then turned her attention away, finally acknowledging the other man - the fake. She approached slowly, closing the distance between them, and prepared herself to strike. She levelled the gun, firing a quick shot directly at the thing's face, before pouncing at him. If she missed, she would swipe at him with her dagger, otherwise she would turn back to face her original opponent.

"Azmot, darling," she said, revealing that she indeed knew more than she had led on, "you must learn to control your demons, lest they control you." She wondered how best to handle the situation, to get what she wanted without being too overt. "I could, perhaps help you... for a price, of course."

He easily dodged the gun as he had done with a similar person previously-- by moving his head. The knife, however, was a different matter. As she lunged another clone appeared behind her, speaking in a voice he'd only recently learned. "Bad Idea, sweetie." If she had been distracted, he would have stepped sightly to the side and under her, delivering a knee to her stomach and casually avoiding the knife. If not, he would roll around the tree to behind it, and let her do what she would to the tree face.

Azmot was sort of glad that she accepted his lowering of arms. However, the bitch slap wasn't very polite. He fell to the ground, Betrayal clattering at his side. He managed to keep a grip on Cruelty. Looking up, Azmot saw her... attack his personality? Something wasn't right. Things weren't adding up. Anger. So... were they both fake? Or were they both real? The wounds he felt were more than enough real, so that just left Azmot confused. Standing, Azmot didn't pick up Betrayal. Cruelty would suffice.

So what the fuck is going on? Azmot asked aloud as the two fought.