Cool Head
"Well, well, well, the escaped subject is here for his little friend. Ready to die, scaly boy?" sneered one of the fiery-haired people, a woman with dark skin. "I don't know how you grew those scales, but they'll make fine boots."
Fate didn't even hear her words, too focused on the door, and the man within.
The man had long silver hair, unkempt and tangled in a ragged mess that fell down his shoulders and partially obscured his dim golden eyes.
He looked like he was both in his early thirties and hundreds of years old, the bags under his eyes and the uniform white jumpsuit he wore doing little for his looks.
This man was the ruler of the Shyviate Collective, Shyv Jeffrey Palar.
Fate knew the man could see him, but his eyes were as dull as the Fildenen Fate had seen in the Cragoloss all those years ago. The eyes of someone who had nothing to live for. As the older man shifted, Fate caught the sight of a bloody X soaked through his jumpsuit.
'Why would the Dracok put him here?' Fate wondered. Fate had no special attachments to the man. In fact, he couldn't care either way if this man lived or died. If this wasn't a trial where failure meant his death, he wouldn't even bother to help him.
It was nothing personal. Fate just didn't know the man well enough.
"Hey, pretty boy!" yelled the fiery-haired woman. "I'm talking to you!"
"Leave him to his thoughts, Jenna," reprimanded one of the men, a buff man with white hair and pale skin. He looked like a bodybuilder version of Nikolas. His biceps were as big around as Fate's head, the armor he wore barely able to contain the mounds of muscle. "If he wants to die like this, who are we to deny him?"
"You forget, Cage," said one of the girls. She had white hair that matched the one she spoke to and a cute button nose, and gazed at Cage with the air of a sister telling her brother off. "The upper brass want him alive."
"They have ways to bring him back, Sam," Cage shrugged. "And fighting to capture him gives us an unnecessary handicap."
"Why hasn't he said anything?" asked one of the two fiery men, Damian. He greatly resembled the hotheaded Jenna.
"Maybe he's scared," grinned the other, Red, who also looked like Jenna.
"Let's just kill him and be done with it. Talking doesn't do us any good," said Sema.
The group of eight agreed and stalked forward, quickly encircling Fate. The three supportive Personifications, all women, worked their magic.
From Sam, a field of energy surrounded Fate, multiplying his gravity by five times. Then a slight, greyish glow rose from his skin, which would slow him by about twenty percent, brought forth by Sema. The last one, Ursa, threw up several metal plates that floated ten feet away from him, designed to block any ranged attacks he threw at them.
The other five, one fiery-haired woman and four men, strode forward, laughing and smiling when Fate still didn't react.
"He must be shaking in his boots!" exclaimed V.
"Don't let your guard down," Sam warned. "This one has given the Advanced trouble for years."
"Oh, please," V said, cracking his neck. "It's obvious whoever dealt with him before was just incompetent. Look at him, he can't even move!"
"Or this is all a trick to catch us on our back foot," hissed Ursa from behind them. "Now shut up and capture him already."
"Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist."
"You little –"
"All of you, just shut up!" Sam shouted. "Do your damn jobs!"
"Thank you," Damian said, smirking at the others. "Now let's just fucking grab him."
Damian extended his arm, palm outstretched. Just as he was about to clamp his hand on Fate's scaley arm, the Avatar's eyes snapped into focus.
With a quick sweep of the leg, he knocked Damian onto his ass, following with a kick to his jaw that rocked the fiery-haired man's head back. His movements weren't slowed in the slightest.
Everyone in the room heard the snap.
Damian fell onto his back, head lolling as his eyes grew dim.
"I should've known you guys would be nothing but cowards," Fate said offhandedly. He could get used to this draconic strength. "That's the Advanced's M.O."
"You killed my brother!" shouted Red.
"And you were about to kill me, dumbass," Fate sneered. "Did you forget that little tidbit of information? Now come here. I'll drive you to the reunion."
"You little bastard!" Red shouted, rushing ahead of his friends as he swung a fiery fist at Fate.
Fate slapped the wrist aside, counterattacking with a chop of his claws that tore the man's throat open. Red fell to his knees, holding his throat closed with a hand as blood gushed between the cracks of his fingers. With a final, resentful gaze, he collapsed onto his side, dead.
'Anger just makes you sloppy,' Fate chided the dead man. 'And sloppy makes you easy to kill.'
"Red!" Jenna shouted, voice cracking with heartbreak. The tear that rolled down her cheek vaporized in an instant, her expression hardening as she left the group of now three.
Cage caught her by the shoulder, not flinching when she turned her hateful gaze to him and brought around a punch to his nose. He squeezed down on her shoulder, hard, and looked into her eyes.
"Red died from anger and overconfidence," he said quietly. "And Damian from lack of preparation. Do you really wish to go into this fight with those same qualities?"
"Better yet, you let me grab that guy in there, and every one of you walks away with all your limbs," Fate chimed in.
"Quiet, subject," Cage barked harshly, his gaze never leaving Jenna's eyes. Lowering his voice once more, he said,
"The only way we beat him is by keeping a cool head. I've seen his dossier, they've trained him better than any of us when it comes to martial arts. We need to use our superior Manifest Powers if we wish to win."
"Superior?" Fate raised an eyebrow at that. "I haven't even used mine, and I've already killed two of you. Clearly, you're all just weak."
Jenna tried to jump at him, but Cage tightened his grip even more, forcing her to look into his eyes. She calmed visibly, giving the man a nod before turning a smoldering glare to Fate.