STARCROSSED BATTLE [EVENT!]

"Oh." Honestly, for what little it was worth, Apollo was enthralled. Reshi and energy mixing together to form a set of angelic wings and a halo was something he had not seen before, and it interested him to no end. Not only that, but not just one person was using it on the same note, making it something that potentially all quincies could use. Apollo retrieved his hands from his pockets, so that he couldn't be caught too off guard if one of the pseudo-angles chose him to be the next man to be raised up on a cross.

"I'm not going to lie, that looks really sweet." Apollo started, eyeing the quincies with a bit more caution. "However, from what I can see I can only assume that you're going to kill me, no? I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't particularily want to die. But, you are causing hundreds of deaths and uncountable amounts of misery to many, many people. So, I guess I can only plea; please stop this." Apollo rolled his shoulders, his face a tad grim, but completely serious. He didn't want to be up here, however if the government ever got whiff of something of this scale, they probably wouldn't hesitate to make where he stood a large atomic crater, especially after what they had learned of the quincies last time.

A news helicopter went spiraling out of control from Villa’s Starscream. It smashed into a close skyscraper, sending waves of glass, corpses, and metal tumbling down under the guise of a burning avalanche before it hit the earth itself. 

“Splendid,” Wolfgang said. 

The robotic entity that had appeared had been blown away, scattered like ash on the wind. It joined the pandemonium below; already crowds had scattered, replaced by droves of police, ambulances, and firetrucks. 

“Splendid,” Wolfgang said. 

Before him were multiple people with powerful spiritual power. Around him, he could feel the souls of quincy, of shinigami, and of humans alike. The event was coming. Years of preparation, having long surpassed centuries and even millennia, were coming to fruition. 

“This is all…” 

Pause. 

Wolfgang spread his arms, allowing blades of light to extend from each knuckle. They were thin, like needles, but they hummed like the wings of a mockingbird. There was a chill in the New York air now, one that went beyond the blanket of winter thrown over the city. It was akin to that feeling when a person knows they’ve made a mistake. Everyone present had played the part; their mistake would now be-- 

“Quincy--” an unknown voice cried out. “--BUNTENGEL!” 

A thin screen of green jetted through the roof of the skyscraper, sectioning off Wolfgang from the rest. The concrete heaved once before breaking away as a shadow barreled into the angel, rocketing him backwards and into the burning skyline. 

“SHINIGAMI!” the voice shouted out again. “ASSIST ME, NOW!” 

Below, a nearby street exploded into flames as Wolfgang, unable to process what was happening, was beset upon by the shadow. Those who wanted to assist in the slaying of an angel, especially the shinigami the shadow had called, need only follow. 

---

Phoebe was left with whoever did not follow Wolfgang and the shadow into the chaotic streets below. Their decisions, and their fates, were left for them to decide. 

Apollo watched with a bit of vindictive interest as the male Quincy was shot down by another Quincy, whom apparently used another variant of some sort. Could this be a civil war? Something that Quincies had pulled Humans into again? Or were the Shinigami responsible for any of this chaos. Apollo clenched his hand, tightening it into a ball. No matter, he'd have to ponder this later when he wasn't in direct combat.

Still, that only left one Quincy, albeit one super-powerful Quincy. No matter, for what it was worth, if he could pin her down, there was very little she could do to respond to his speed. Yes, his wildcard, his one true virtue was his speed, which outmatched even a user of Shunpo or Hirenyaku in some circumstances. He couldn't be sure if she would be able to see through his super speed, but there was only this that he could take a chance with.

Yet came another distraction. A child, he thought drolly, the semi-elevated in pitch voice only serving to grate on his nerves, not that the boy's attitude didn't either. "Watch your tone, child." Apollo began, not taking his eyes off the current target, the one who was making the worst of the problems. "You have spiritual power -- I can feel it. Be on guard, and prepare to attack when I do. Understood? Good."

Even if the child did not understand, or complied, Apollo had no choice. He could not wait for the boy to make up his mind, as probably fucked as it was, considering he was head-to-toe in what was apparently a knock-off D.C outfit. Pathetic! he wanted to scream at the child, his fingers tensing and boiling over with anger, Look at what you're wearing! Atleast wear something decent, not a fucking super-hero costume!. But he could not, no, he did not want to drop morale, and at the very least the boy could help, albeit insignificantly. But if it mattered any, Apollo did not know.

With that in mind, Apollo's reiatsu rolled off, consuming in around his hand with a vibrant clash of golden colors. It interlocked into a prism, turning into a diamond shaped and becoming incredibly dense. Good, Apollo thought in all of his adrenaline, I have this defense at the least.

"Kid?" is maybe what he would have said as a retort to the agents orders. Either he was more perceptive than given credit for, or he knew a little too much. How was he able to distinguish anything from the tactical armor Lucas was clad in. Regardless, no words were mentioned, and instead he was left with a few words fluttering aimlessly in his head, with no intentions of escaping through the breathing apparatus of his face-mask. "Maybe I should have addressed her majesty with a little bit more chivalry."

Justice's body reacted on reflex, and with extreme acrobatics, and an enhanced sense of advanced weaponry it was easy enough to live through. "Just like Neo," he thought as his torso bent back almost in slow motion, his chest narrowly escaping the bullets that whistled by. Whatever they were, they were slower, and one caught the edge of his helm, burning a few millimeters into his face, and leaving a burning scar along the plate. 

It was clear there was something more to the round as when it did skip along that ivory helm, it provided enough force to send him vaulting back first into the floor, and the stone shivered under the pressure of the strike, crackling in the weaker spots of the building. 

If Justice was anything less than he was, then maybe he would have remained paralyzed in fear and disorientation at the spot of his fall, but instead he road the forced movement into a backwards tumble, landing back onto his feet, sliding a foot backwards in its momentum. "Ow! God really lettin' you guys use guns now? Someone needs to let the Pope know that the big man upstairs is a lot more progressive than they treat him." he complained with a light smile hidden under the mask. 

"Alright... round two." Immediately he pointed behind her, "Oh! Watch out, spear!" he feigned, hoping that the black-clad spear-user from before was her enemy. Hopefully the lie captivated her attention. Ignoring the agent's orders, Justice fell into a quick sprint to circle the woman widely, each step with reinforced speed thanks to the exoskeleton within his suit. "Just a few warning shots..." he thought as his hands extended the two guns loaded with plasma bolts. Pulling the triggers and beams of bright white riddled the cement, dancing around her feet with precision, though careful not to hit; one would even be momentarily lifted to graze by her neck if she remained still, just a reminder at how good of a shot he was.