Catalysts: IC (Oh the thread is slowly dying...)

"Don't you get it, though? I don't WANT to have a stealthy blade. There's no sport in stealth, no fun. He sighed, and then hopped down from the dumpster, safely beyond the device. "But you just don't get it, do you? You're all efficiency. I can respect that." He began his advance toward her. "Now let's have this begin, shall we?"

"Hmmmph. I think you'll find EFFICIENCY is not my forte. However, I am of the opinion that if you are going to do something, you really should go all the way." as she spoke she took on a wide, defensive stance, seemingly preparing to fight defensively, before suddenly rushing forward, using the brief moment of surprise to drive a spiked fist around from the right, aiming for his side but secretly hoping he'd block with his arm or hand.

Nox swung his blade in the direction of the hand conning at his right side. At worst, he'd miss. At best, someone was about to have a very bad day. While not very lethal, duh an injury would put up quite a distraction.

The blade bit deep into her hand, easily sliding into the gap between the poiner and middle finger, and Pandorah hissed in pain. "Well, I suppose this was going to happen sooner or later," she shrugged, tensing her arm to pull it off the blade, before suddenly twisting her hand, the still active narcotics doing much to dull the pain, before grabbing the blade with all her fingers and pulling, quickly getting her other hand upon the blade.

"LET MY DAMNED SWORD GO!" he shouted, yanking on the sword and kicking towards her stomach. This was just irritating, how she could hold onto his blade without dropping it. That was his advantage. Reach. A soon as she got in close he was fucked, and he knew it, and he suspected she knew it too.

the kick connected, but again narcotics came to her rescue, stopping the kick from being any more than a fleeting distraction. Switching tactics she suddenly released the sword, ducking down and rushing the last foot to properly get into range forward before simultaniously lashing out with both recently healed hands towards pressure points on his body to cause the most pain possible- one toward his right shoulder positioned to drive a 3 centimeter spike into the gap below the colar bone and one below the left armpit, aiming near the bottom of his ribcage.

Nox jumped back as much as three feet. The hits grazed him, leaving gashes in front of his collarbone and under his arm. He brought the blade up into the air and swung straight down, hoping to bury the blade deep within the area between her shoulder and head. Since apparently for some ungodly reason she could regenerate, he would take the oppurtunity to grab two daggers. Worst came to worst he could throw them. At best he would tear her to ribbons,

deciding it was time to start dodging, ugh, rather than simply tanking and seeing how long it would take him to get bored, she ducked down and dashed to the left, before dashing under his swing and quickly punching at his off hand to stop him retrieving whatever he was grabbing from inside his coat, as well as grasping the blade once more to stop further swings and stop him from escaping backwards.

((OOC- quick note- A katana is a hand and a half to two handed weapon, and works VERY badly one handed. I would suggest swapping it for a shortsword or a scimitar, if you want the same flowing style))

The katana clattered to the ground as he grabbed for his daggers with his good hand. Shouting would be useless and would only draw attention. He twirled the dagger out in a way as to make it seem like he was about to slash, but then as a little "surprise" he flicked it into a switchblade position and stabbed for the little gap behind her collarbone.

She danced quickly backward, a small spurt of blood the only sign she'd been hit before it quickly closed up. she glanced at a watch- 7:15. Almost time for the bomb to go off. well, maybe delay tactics without fighting would be easier? she could probably win, but he was dangerous.
"Come now, what kind of hero are you? All this deception, trickery, and stealth and you don't even think to ASK what I was doing? why, I'd be offended if it weren't so FUNNY." she finished in a perfect deadpan, a dangerous smile flitting accross her face as she skipped back another step, then another. "Really, aren't you the least bit curious? You must have noticed my surveilance to be this on guard, but you don't even THINK to determine WHY I was watching? Frankly, I'm dissapointed."

"It seemed a bad idea when you were TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME. So, what are you up to?" he was still guarded. He seemed to be the quick, irrational sort. "Also, could I have my sword back if you don't mind?" He very much needed that katana.

"Mmmm... no, I think I'll be holding onto this for a bit. after all, why should I re-arm you? and... I think you can guess, but in case you can't... well, in..." she checked her watch once more, noting the time, before continuing "13 minutes now, you'll see. But really, it's not like this hasn't been fun. It's just I'd rather be on my way, I've got chaos to sow, suffering to cause, death to revell in. You know how it is."

((OOC she))

NOW he was mad. He began to shout at her. "NO! FUCK YOU! I NEED THAT!" he threw the dagger at her midsection, which was a hard to miss target. Tears of frustration began to form in his eyes. That sword was rightfully his.

Winter, desperately trying to manage her thoughts, decided that a far better course of action would be to simply disregard everything and continue with the basics of survival.

It was morning. Despite her meal last night, she was hungry. Hungry she would stay for, most likely, a very long time unless one of the hunters caught something else and hadn't checked their traps yet - though that was unlikely, as they usually made rounds at dawn.

In a short time, she decided on pickpocketing. A populated area, an exposed overcoat, and she could earn enough to buy something fancy in the marketplace - assuming she wasn't caught. The police would be less than hospitable if she was, but Winter was too hungry and frustrated to think about that right now.

She directed her feet towards the subway station, which would contain many a foolish traveler once the train arrived. All she had to do was wait.

She took the knife to the gut, pulling it out, and examining it even as the wound healed. "My oh my, you DO have a temper! And here I thought you were going to get boring. Well, in that case, perhaps a wager. I've left a... package... somewhere nearby. And no, I don't mean the mine. It would be in the best interests of a great many people if my... package... were never delivered. If you can find it, and stop it, before..." she glanced at her watch again, before smiling impishly "12 minutes have past, I'll give you back the sword. If not... I might just think of keeping it! Though really, I don't understand why you try so hard to help. It's not like the people of this city will ever thank you for it, they would as soon turn you in as me, you know. oh, sorry, I keep delaying you. 11 minutes now. Well, run along!"

Nox sprinted off, mindful of the mine. He entered the station and snuck down onto the railway. He searched high and low but couldn't find anything. But then he realized: UNDER THE TRAIN! There were only three minutes left. He found it. Two minutes. He located and unplugged the detonator with only a minute to spare. He walked out into the alley. "I have your bomb. Where's my katana?" Just then the area was shaken by many explosions, and he could see the smoke. He had only found one of many. He withdrew the daggers from his pocket, one in DAH hand. "I do believe I'll have my katana back now."

Winter felt, quite plainly, a sheer force connect with her back. She was thrown to the floor, sustaining quite the nasty bump on the noggin, as rubble fell around her.

Regaining her senses, she quickly covered her aching and dizzied head with her arms, gasping unintentionally as a shard of rock slammed into her spine. It was only after recovering from having the wind knocked out of her that Winter was conscious of the screams. Then there was only darkness, yet the pain and fright refused to be dispersed by sleep.

OOC I would suggest going back and talking about the thought process involved in deciding it was in the train station.

"Hmmm... well, I suppose you found ONE of my bombs... well, how about this. FETCH!" wit that, she tossed the sword carelessly out the window, vaguely hoping it would spear someone on the ground below. She turned to smile at her earlier assailent, ready for an assault that may or ma not be forthcoming.

Nox looked incredulously out the window. That bitch had thrown his sword out! He grabbed two daggers from his pocket and jumped. If he connected, she was Swiss fucking cheese. If not, he could roll and get back up.

After a moment or two of claustrophobic panicking, Winter was able to mass the necessary cognitive functions required to test her surroundings.

Though it was still very dark, and what she could see of the rubble was quite discouraging, Winter attempted to raise her back and press against the masonry that had buried her.

After a supreme display of strength, the rubble gave a slight shift - Winter saw that it was hopeless to dig her way out this way, and relaxed her muscles.

There was a throbbing in her left arm, and she dared not move it for fear of discovering a broken limb or similar injury. Instead, she lifted her right hand to connect with the slab above her. Here goes nothing.

After a moment or so of concentration, the block shifted, sliding down to press into her back even more. She bit her tongue and resisted the urge to cry out in pain as the thing began to crush her. I must... FOCUS.

A few more seconds of agonizing hell, and suddenly the stone slab gave a bit of a shudder and jumped, with an odd, gurgling cry that reminded one of a death-rattle, off of the pile. More rubble shifted and slid in attempts to fill this gap created by the recently-vivified stone, but Winter was able to wipe the tears from her eyes and quickly scramble upright.

Her head was now above the surface of the rubble, and she could see the remains of the subway station. What the hell happened here...? Painstakingly, she tugged and pulled at the stone blocks in order to free her thighs and crawl to freedom. Fortunately, her arm did not seem to have fractured, though everything else hurt like the dickens.

Quickly rolling forward so as to pass under his somewhat senseless charge, Pandora tutted. "Oh come now, I thought you needed the sword! Think, fool! I just exploded a train station, then threw a sword in it's direction! Do you think the police will let you just grab it when they get here? besides, a goody-goody like you, don't you need to go save a kitten from a tree or something?" scorn laced her words as she prepared for yet another idiotic attack by her foolish adversary.

He ran down and into the rubble. Mixed in with the dust and rebar were blood and gore. It was a terrible sight. He sifted around in the rubble, and he actually found some personal affects of the train patrons. After a while he found the katana. Then he began to take in the surroundings. Just then he saw a very familiar person. He ran over to Winter. "What are you doing here?"

Pandora watched as the fool ran about, grabbing random items off the ground. How in the world is it taking him this long to find the ONE shiny object in that pile? She sighed as he finally found it, glancing about to see multiple squads of police entering the square. Time to send the signal. She pulled a detonator from a pocket and pushed a button, several explosive packages in the area beeping quietly as a countdown started, two separate detonation times drawing closer- one and a half minutes, and fifteen seconds later a smaller number of bombs would also explode. With that completed, Pandora turned and stalked off toward the residential districts- she needed to repair her outfit, and that meant she'd need fabrics, tools, and thread. and hey, if she managed to torture and kill a civilian or two on the way then who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Nox tried to leave, but was picked up by the cops. Needless to say, they blamed him. He was put into cuffs and led to a car. They confiscated his weapons and put him in the back seat. Ten they went into a tunnel. The shadows in the area seemed to boil an twist around Nox. The wounds of his slowly knit themselves together. His eyes faded from blue to red. He broke the cuffs, and punched the glass shield between him and the cops. After it broke, the driver was dead in seconds. The accompanying trainee swerved to the side of the tunnel. He jumped out of the car when it was no longer moving and started running. He was no match for Nox' speed, however. Within seconds Nox was upon him. He pounced on the officer, an when he came up there was a gash in the pig's neck and blood dripping from Nox's mouth. Nox staggered over to the car, grabbed his weapons, and collapsed. Whatever unholy force had possessed him had drained him too.

Rodney arrived on the scene fashionably late, with a large splash of pink paint down his front, like he'd spilled a can of it on himself (which he had). He'd been a block or two away when the explosions hit, and it had taken him some time to come to the scene. But he didn't get close; there were policemen everywhere, and they seemed to have the situation relatively under control. He wondered offhand if the blade-wielding psychopath had been involved; but no, he couldn't have been. He was just off in the abandoned city, wasn't he? Surely a police force as competent as this one wouldn't let someone as obviously dangerous as him run around. A man with a sword walking around shouldn't be hard to miss, and heaven forbid he went through a metal detector. So it couldn't have been him... but then who was it?

"Sir?" Someone had him by the shoulder and was shaking him out of his reverie. He jumped involuntary and looked slightly down at a paramedic.

"Sir, if you're not hurt, I need you to move out of the way."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Rodney stepped back to a safer distance to watch the police at work. He pulled out his sketchbook and a pencil to jot down the gestures for an illustration that he might be able to sell to the department; one of the policemen was in the middle of a particularly picturesque pose while pulling a survivor out of the rubble. While he was at it, he made a point of drawing some of the equipment on the policemen's belts. Normally, he wouldn't have even considered taking a policeman's tools for himself (there was a reason only the police were supposed to have them), but if things were going crazy like this, and the sword-swinging anarchist was out there, he might need them.