Tak stood in the tunnel that led to a massive safe encompassing the hollowed innards of Myu Mountain. Myu, an ancient serpent that left its husk, over time molding itself into a monumental mountain of the continent's origin. Ritual rope draped in low bows along the two giant doors framed in blood red. Markings of the Reverse Order, one of the twelve demonic sects of Lucifer ran in cavities drawn through the border. Le Suo walked up to Tak's back and spoke. "Preparations are set." Tak nodded. It was time, yet his eyelids were heavy, he was seemingly uninterested in this confrontation. Like many things it seemed his greatest passion was driving by. Dryness marked his lips as his nose took in a deep breath. Out of the tunnel of darkness the night sky greeted them. All seven members of the Zeroes were ready, vehicles geared to their needs, nods of approval went around.
"Enough talk…" Tak-Tak said. Rolling his neck whilst sitting in the thick leather seating of his Bugatti W16 Mistral.
Driving up the course Dante met their eyes, his sleek blue suit jumped out as the headlights beamed off him. One dapper exit from his convertible and all eyes could only keep on him. Le Suo cut away the mist that looked as though others were there.
"Neat trick," Dante said.
Le Suo sat on the hood of his Porsche. His flat face marked with shadow, thin eyes barely shown by the bright lights. "I know you are not one for racing, so we could either cruise around and I let you hit a tree. Or you can gently place your top row on that curb." Le Suo's baggy pants buckled with the wind as Dante's hair fluttered. The smirk of a dragon clearer than day painted his face. Glasses off he rolled up his sleeves. A step forth and Le Suo was gone with his car, a murky mist coiled into a circling mass. Three cars headlined Dante, he soared, ribs crushed, his head landed into the road.
Razal held his megaphone on the edge of a tree top. Baghdad stood at the front entry of three tunnels whilst Koga left his shadows in the trenches of each. In one passageway they would intersect, his real body sat there. Koga's Dodge was a rusty thing, but seemingly the quietest of them all as well.
"Urnna spotted two figures, minimal he says," Razal voiced. His ability was minimal, speak no evil. He could only talk to those who acknowledge his voice and vice versa. When he speaks, no matter where they are, if he so chooses they can hear it.
Baghdad took a step forward, black bandages wrapped his body, tattooed on his left peck 06. The only thing visible on his newly covered body. "Koga, it's a little tight," Baghdad said. The bandages loosened ever so slightly.
"I can't keep it up for too long, the monoxide will build up," Koga said through the black bindings.
"I know…" Baghdad said as he strained his eyes to see the figure approaching. A young man not of the era or land. Dressed in a manner that Baghdad had never seen, a large straw hat and a sword too long for a human body sheathed behind his back. Tassels of hair so dark it could almost be called black, yet light said otherwise as the tiniest of indigo perfumed some strands. Like a soaring butterfly, subtle steps that held no rhythm came walking with a smile not so welcoming.
Rumbling of a Honda CB450, a faux leather trenchcoat, skinny jeans, a stained white tee tucked in. An overly greased pompadour, scarred hands covered by steel woven gloves. Cross scars layered his neck up to his jaw and ear. Tanned skin made from long rides in the sun. His sunglasses were flung into the distance. Revving his bike, Grease snarled, 'come get me' written in the glare. Zigarat couldn't help but laugh as he charged head on top of his Kawasaki Z750 ash black. Crimson crosses of pure sharpness shot beneath the two as their wheels snapped at each other, echoing along the tunnel. Exhaust puffed after their dissipation, the ceiling carved by the constant slashes Grease sent behind, were mere gashes left in the wake of Zigarat's passing. Flying down the street, simple night goers were cut into cubes, Grease's coat was being torn, but yet not a single slice grazed Zigarat's body. Fear plumed Grease's mind as his turns became less sharp and Zigarat's presence loomed ever closer.
Swerving through the streets, night lights blackened, street poles flattened, and the roads tore asunder. Picking up the pavement, Zigarat flung parts of the ground up into the sky. Rock rain pelted Grease's back as he danced around large chunks crashing right by. The shaky suppression bumped up and down as the two drove between each other's lines. Classy ribbons of light conjoined at points, infinity could be spotted from above. Sliding to a stop, their wheels barely ended the collision with a nice wall painted by a kind hearted Dante.
"Tell me, do you know anything about my vice-captain? Longwang."
"Haa? You smelly rat-ass. Think I would know anything bout that?"
"I think you would. Don't play dumb, I know ya'll be working with them southern folk."
Zigarat's face went grim. "Sigh. I was planning on just wasting your time, but it seems I will have to commit a sin tonight. Your death will be an unpleasant one. Not for you, but for me."
Urnna could barely out maneuver the pink Hellcat chasing him. Sitting cross legged on the hood was Kojiro's partner, Miyamoto Musashi. The scent of cherry blossoms mixed with petrol. An eastern twang flared in Urnna's right ear. Two blades were directed towards his neck.
"Nice to meet you, my name is Daevol," Musashi said. Somehow sitting next to Urnna in his Corvette. Feet on the dashboard with two swords held in his left hand. "Just keep driving, I won't kill you just yet." Urnna's hands were shaking. This was not what he was setting up for. Just outside his rearview, Lev was flipping them off. "Sorry, I think I may have scratched his car." Musashi commented.
Crawling through the tight tunnel, Rad saw the emblem of the phoenix. His cue to know that the entrance to the vault was right behind here. Pushing with all his might the seal budged not at all. He tried to turn it, or find some leverage to pull, but obtained nothing. His breathing slowed to a drool. Imprinting his palm upon the phoenix, a white light illuminated the small passageway. A blast of wind shot forth, swiftly sucked back in. Similar to rewound time, his body was in the presence of a large gate. Two doors too massive for just humans alone. Red pooled the ceiling. Ceremonial rope dressed the room with the whitest of rope draping the doors inscribed with demonic sigils.
"You're finally here, aye Daler," Tak-Tak said in a whisper. He sat on a plain rock, eyes down, with rather homely energy. Rad could only look behind in an uncomfortable fashion.