Hold It In (RWBY/Transistor)

I don't think this test has too long to go, in case it's wearing out its welcome.

End of arc edit: HAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HOLY SHIT YOU DUMB BITCH

|||
Turn() Sickness Roll: 17. Success! -1 round! 1 remaining!
You watch as Creme gets on her knees to scoop away another handful of sand, causing another mini-avalanche to form, and realise with a small start that you should probably help instead of gawping at her...

{Finish the sentence, Jaune, there are implications there.}

... Awesomeness, you finish after a moment, glaring at your sword.

{... What? She's cute, you're hormonal, you know your parents wouldn't have a problem with a Faunus, I wouldn't be too surprised if you were into her-}

You let go of the Transistor, not even dignifying its analysis with an answer, and walk over to the pair to help dig your friend out.

... An idea begins to form.

{... Jaune. No. I'm sorry. Really, I am, it was a stupid joke, you don't, you don't need to do this-}

"Need some help there?" You ask the pair, raising your hand to drag the Transistor up with your mind. With quick, deliberate movements, you bring it forth, raising gently as it comes towards Lumen, the red eye level with his face.

"Uh..."

{NonononoNONONONO-}

You flick your hand down. The Transistor drives itself into the sand, further, further, until its eye is about half covered.

{MMMMMMMMMM-}

You pull your hand into your chest, dragging the sword forward, taking the sand with it, granting Lumen freedom and letting him step forward.

{WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!}

It amuses you?

{I FEEL PAIN YOU ASS. WHY CAN I SIMULATE PAIN. OH GOD THIS IS WHAT GETTING SAND IN YOUR EYE FEELS LIKE, WHY HAVEN'T YOU ALL JUST GLASSED YOUR BEACHES YET-}

You join Lumen, now trying to salvage his pants.

"Ugh, how did I get sand between my toes?!"

You look at his footwear, black leather boots, and decide not to comment. Instead, you bring your sword back and begin shaking the sand off its casing. Creme stares at you, and your floating sword, and opens her mouth to say something before deciding better of it. She gets off her knees, dusting them off as she does.
"IGNORE ME!" DC 17, Roll: 15. Minor Failure!
"No, even more importantly, the hell was tha-"
Character Roll: 3. ... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
Creme is hit in the head with a bullet. She doesn't react. You look over to the source of the bullet and see- oh god, this dick.

"OI! YOU GITS AIN'T FIGHTIN'!" A boy dressed in bike leathers with honest to god spikes on them- because Aura means armour is optional apparently- shouts at you. "I GOTS TO FIX THAT!"

He raises his...

... You don't- a little help?

{Even if I wasn't really mad at you right now, I don't know. There is no logical reason for it to be held together, let alone actually be able to fire bullets. Chalk it up to a Semblance and try not to think too hard about it.}

You... no, you can't just move on from this. You find yourself staring at his weapon for a long moment, as if staring at it will make it make sense.

... It's... like, someone stuck several pieces of scrap together, slapped some wires and springs on the internals and somehow gun. That's the only way you can describe it- it's like someone made a model of a gun out of a bunch of scrap metal and springs, and then intimidated it into acting like a gun. Then again, you look at your opponent and decide that if anyone would both try and be able to intimidate inanimate objects, it would be him.

Both your allies are quick to act, Lumen bringing his shield up and charging forward, emulating Xanadu in his own way, while Creme blasts forward, sand exploding beneath her feet, the Transistor once again logging several incidents where people's weapons seem to just stop working for a moment.

Meanwhile, you queue... nothing, because you've locked up most of your sword's processing power.

... Welp, time for javelin practice!

{USE JAUNT().}

Oh. Yeah. You still have Jaunt().

Queue Jaunt().

Jaunt() queued.
"Really it doesn't matter which hand you use, you're shit with both." DC 12 Roll: 11 + (Skill Penalty: - 3) = 8. Failure!
You blast past them both, raising your sword high above your head and bringing it down on your new opponent's head. Instead, however, he swings a little to the side, a wild, unpracticed move that just barely saves his ass, and he shifts his gun to a mace.

Read: He takes it by the still smoking barrel and flips it around, bringing several pointy bits that were hidden... somewhere, to the forefront, making for a very crude club. You swing again, and he dodges backwards just in time to catch you over the head with his club, and then catch one of those colourless crystals of Lumen's. In that half second of confusion, you just about remember to Jaunt() backwards and avoid most of the explosion.

Aura:115/150

You watch Leathers bounce once, twice, rolling, rolling, and, he's up and running again. He... seems to be screaming something.

As he comes closer, only seeming to get faster as he goes, club-gun raised, going for Creme.

You think it's... Aaaaagh?

Creme uses the shaft of her hammer to block it, bringing a foot up to kick him in the gut, once, twice, before taking a boot to the stomach herself.

Raaaagh?

She folds, coughing slightly, almost getting her head clubbed in like human sacrifice is the new black for her troubles, only for a spray of green and blue to cover her back and protect her like a turtle shell. The not-gun-club bounces off, and you see shards of metal come off from the abuse.

{I think it was... Waaaaagh?}

Ooh, yeah, he might be right.

Almost as quickly as the resin appeared, it disappears, leaving dust and the smell of chalk and cedar to infuse the air. Lumen creates another glob of dark red goop, this one aimed directly for Leathers' eyes. Blinded, and directly in front of a now rather angry Creme, he doesn't stand a chance.

... You think you see him embedded in the wall.

{Girl kicks like a damn mule, Semblance or not.}

... Dude.

{What?! It's a perfectly normal turn of phrase! You're the one making it racist!}

Before you get any further, you see Leathers getting up again, good god this guy just doesn't stop.

Ok. Enough is enough. You let go of the Transistor, and with a few gestures, point it directly at the fucking Goliath in human form.

{You know what, for once, I'm ok with this. I'm getting tired of this guy too.}

... Well, that's nice. You snap your fingers and send it careening off towards him.

{ICHANGEDMYMINDI'MNOTOKWITHTHISI'MNOTOKWITHTHISATALL-}

You watch his face change from bewilderment to pain, even at this distance, as your sword slams him back into the new nook you and Creme have dug into the wall. He flickers away, and your sword is left floating a little bit further away than it was. You call it back, enjoying the slight gawp on your friends' faces as you do. The sound of your sword groaning in simulated nausea, not so much.

The buzzer sounds, prompting you to look up at the scoreboard. You know it's not a scoreboard, but... it really is.

12 people left.

{Hey... we're getting there. 9 more and we're... golden... ohgodwhycanIevensimulatenausea-}

"... As I was saying..." Lumen breaks the silence first, "what the hell was that? What even is your Semblance?" He asks, the question directed at Creme.

"Oh, like yours is any better!" She shoots back, and you decide to step in before they come to blows.

"Is now really the best time for this conversation?" You ask, gently reminding them that you're in the middle of a battle. They both look at you, and, since they don't argue any further, seem to concede the point.

Now what?

Turn() Sickness- 1 round remaining. All Functions bar Jaunt() locked- telekinetic command and inherent bludgeoning properties also available for use.

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