TERRORISM

[not_thief]

Who: Locke and Celes
What: Terrorism!
When: As the plague is taking hold
Where: Zeon military port
Warnings: Terrorism!

With the plague gripping Zeon, the soldiers were out in force containing riots and keeping the peace. That made it easy for a certain someone who is part of a semi-secret organization devoted to bringing down Zeon to sneak in and set fire to boats. Lots of boats. Warboats, in fact. They're burning pretty good, as it turns out!

Comments

[nonchere]

The dagger would meet with thin air, his pursuer long gone. As Locke landed on the roof, however, he would be met with a barrage of ice, falling around him like the bars of a cage. The blond landed quickly thereafter, having just launched herself from the neighboring roof. She barely touched the ground before she set off again, running full-tilt toward the thief should he elude her again.

[not_thief]

What may come as something of a surprise to Celes, Locke did not flee, instead dodging away from the ice and standing his ground, drawing two more of the daggers and meeting her charge head-on.

[nonchere]

He wouldn't get that chance.

Every good soldier knew that, when cornered, a mouse will fight back. The last few bits of ice, instead of forming around him, gathered at his feet, followed by more, encasing them in ice. Reaching as her attack meant to pin him in place, she deflected both blades with her own before feinting behind him, sword still at the ready to strike if need be.

[not_thief]

The ferocity of Celes' attack pushed Locke back, or would have, had she not entrapped him in ice. Off-balance, he raised his hand and a small gem fell into his sleeve.

"Ifrit!" he called, a giant beast of flame rising up and melting the ice around him before charging at Celes.

[nonchere]

So that was his trick, the plucky bastard had a shard of magicite. But two could play at that game. Off hand falling to her side, she stared Locke down coolly, not budging.

"Shiva."

A cold wind blew and what looked to be snow began to fall. The wind quickly picked up, the snow picking up in speed, blowing directly toward the thief, obstructing his vision. Running into the storm would prove to be foolish as well, as both wind and ice cut into him, the air bitingly cold.

[not_thief]

Raising his hand, Locke directed Ifrit directly at Shiva, the heat blasting through and melting the ice around him as he charged.