Baird jumped when the flashy lights died away and the energetic music with it. He squinted into the veil of darkness, but saw nothing. Besides the scrambling of footsteps on the floor and groping hands slapping the walls, the room fell into a relative silence. A silence soon shattered by a duo of voices bursting into laughter. Baird heard the click of the dog's nails circling several times around Kookaburra's seat before the sound became swallowed up in their explosion of audible mirth. 

"See, it all makes sense now!" Kookaburra's voice shrieked over the growing commotion, "The criminal's come to cause us trouble! He's come to kill me!" 

"It's him or us, you see!" the dog agreed, his nasally voice topping Kookaburra's pitch by an octave. 

Baird pushed back in his seat and rose to his feet. His vision being completely useless, he shut his lids so as to protect his eyeballs. I'm like Khemera now. he mused to himself as he shifted to a fighting stance and kept his ears peeled for an incoming attack. 

His first attacker announced himself with a noisy war cry. Baird leapt up and kicked in the direction of the scream, assured he had hit his target when the sound became muffled, and shifted tonally from rage to agony. When Baird landed, he heard a grunt, and jetting his arm forward, he blocked a punch. 

Kookaburra and his dog cackled behind Baird with a hearty vigor. He strained to pick up audible clues through their clamor. When he heard the distinct ring of a sword leaving its sheath, he gritted his teeth and lunged forward. 

Both Baird and his opponent grunted when they hit the ground. With a clenched jaw, he wrestled the bladed weapon from the man's grasp. Baird swung a heavy fist down. He felt his knuckles hit cheekbone, and the man's body became limp beneath him. 

Baird leapt to his feet and strained to hear over the crescendo of laughter coming from Kookaburra's direction. The god and his dog created dissonant harmonies in their cackling, rising and falling in pitch in almost perfect sync. 

When Baird felt the ground rumbling behind him and heard the floorboards creak, he reached down for the sword his previous opponent had dropped. He hurled it over his shoulder. A squishing sound ensued, followed by a deep, gravelly grunt. When a heavy thud rumbled the floor, Baird felt assured of success. 

He shifted back into a defensive stance as he heard a crowd gathering in a circle around him. The men began laughing together, though the sound struck Baird as far from natural. Their chuckles followed a steady rhythm, slowly increasing and decreasing in speed and volume all together. Kookaburra's chortling in the background seemed to serve as a master clock to the gleeful symphony. 

When Baird felt a brush of wind, he dodged. Another pair of punches came his way from separate directions, which he also dodged. As the clamor of laughter grew, his hearing also became useless as a tool, and he focused only on feeling. Several blows hit him, and the warmth of his attackers' bodies drew ever closer. 

"Armory, thunder blade!" he shouted, reaching his hand skyward. 

After a second's pause, the roof noisily splintered open above, and the pieces of a metal container clattered to the floor. The hilt of Baird's saber jumped right into his hand, drawing a grin to his face. He ducked to avoid another punch, and while crouched, he gave a button on the weapon's handle a hard press. Electric sparks ignited and hopped over the curved blade, providing a slight bluish glow for the swordsman to see by. 

Baird's eyes shot open, and he lunged into his attackers with an explosive leap. He slashed into the nearest man and watched as the man's convulsions prevented him from clutching the fresh wound. Upon landing, Baird hacked away at his enemies. Laughter morphed into screams as he inflicted wounds aplenty. 

******************** 

Brant grabbed a man by his shoulders and slapped his neck down on the corner of the generator. A loud snap ensued, and the man's limp body dropped. 

Brant and Ace locked eyes for a second before sweeping their gazes over the collection of motionless bodies strewn about, some dead, and many more only incapacitated. 

"So, we split ways now and take one tower each?" Brant asked. 

Ace nodded. "Sounds good." 

"Alright, don't die." 

"Wasn't in my to-do list." 

Brant smirked and spun on his heel. He faced the colossus of a tower that loomed over him. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath. Then he charged forward, intent on reaching his destination with minimal delay. 

After dashing quite a ways without resistance, Brant came upon a narrow bridge spanning across a drop in the rooftop's elevation. Guards lined the walkway. Many crouched and pointed their guns in his general direction. Brant raised his shield. 

Brant slapped the guards aside as he crossed the bridge, slowing his footsteps only slightly. Few men dared fire their guns in the darkness, and even when they did, he raised his shield and suffered no harm. 

Soon, he finished crossing and continued his dash toward the tower. Halfway there. 

Brant skidded to a halt when a giant brute matching his own size leapt out from behind a corner of a wall. The man swung a mace at him. Brant blocked with his shield and struck back with his own axe. His opponent dodged. He hooked the mace's spikes in the curve of the axe blade and yanked the weapon from Brant's hand. 

Separated from the magnetic field emanating from his gloves, Brant's axe crumbled in the air and dropped to the ground as a cloud of dust. Metal particles settled on the rooftop. 

Brant warded off another blow while a bulbous sword hilt appeared in his hand. A shiny rapier blade extended from the handle, and the brute eyed the weapon with a mix of confusion and disappointment on his face. While the tip appeared, Brant blocked his opponent's third blow. 

Finally, Brant lunged forward, the rapier's tip pointed at the giant's leg. When his opponent swung the mace down to bat the blade away, he withdrew and stabbed into his chest before he could raise the heavy weapon again. 

With concentration, Brant transformed the thin point into a broad, double-sided longsword blade, while still in the man's flesh. The brute screamed as what had once been a small prick transformed into a gaping hole. With gritted teeth, he pulled back, removing the metal from his flesh. 

Brant made no more move on the giant. With the blade no longer obstructing his blood-flow, the man's arteries emptied themselves onto the ground. Brant lingered no longer. 

After a few minutes more of unobstructed running, Brant slowed down. A quintet of armored men descended from the sky on parachutes. They carried no weapons but the brass knuckles looped around their fingers. 

Brant ducked his head when the first man landed and swung a punch his way. He struck back with his sword. The blade tore right through his kevlar vest, but hit metal underneath and bounced right off. With a sigh, he retracted the sword back into his glove, saving the particles for later use. His hand now empty, he snatched his attacker up by the neck and raised him up. His fingers gripped tightly around the man's airway, and soon, he fell unconscious. Brant tossed him aside. 

Just before another guard could make his landing, Brant dashed over, ripped his parachute apart, and kicked him off the ledge. He steadied himself to withstand a third opponent's attempt to shove him down as well. He backhanded the man and sent him sprawling out on the stone roof. Brant hurried forward to reach the tower before the remaining men could land. 

Brant found himself several yards off from the door in the front of the tower when a rope snaked around his ankle and pulled him off balance. He caught himself and ripped it apart, but the delay gave the two remaining guards a chance to catch up. One man kicked him in the face, while the other landed a hard punch on his ribcage. 

Brant hissed in pain and rose to his feet. He blocked another brass-powered punch with his shield. His mistake was forgetting the other fighter behind him. The man landed a hit on his shoulder. Brant gritted his teeth and backhanded the man, soon shifting focus back on the active fighter before him, who challenged him with an array of martial arts moves that wasted all his concentration on defense. 

Brant ducked as a blade seemingly materialized from thin air and flew his way from his challenging opponent. The martial artist sent a sweeping kick his way, which he barely avoided by leaping. Before he could fully regain his footing, the man tackled him. 

With his shield, he blocked a knife from entering his ear, taking a bruising blow to the jaw instead. Brant kicked his opponent off and elbowed the other guard running in from behind. He snapped his attention to the martial artist again and armed himself with a rapier again. He thrusted at the man, who batted the blade away and hit him in the chest. Brant tried again, and received the same result. 

He heard footsteps rush in from behind. Irritated with the backstabber's pestering, he sent a mighty kick into his chest. Spewing vomit and blood, the man hurtled through the air, flying into the metal tower door several yards away and smashing it down. 

Brant sighed and continued warding off the martial artist's attacks. He ducked and sped behind him. Quickly materializing a dagger, he stabbed into the back of his neck. He sighed when the man finally ceased moving and slid off the bloody blade. After wiping his sweaty brow, he charged toward the broken door of the tower. 

******************** 

A/N: ...And the action continues! This time we got some Baird thrown in there as well, and more Brant! If your adrenaline isn't pumping now, I'm afraid there's not much I can do for ya. 😂 

But maybe you could pump *my* adrenaline? With a vote and some comments? 🤣 

Anyhow, now that I guess we've seen some of Baird in action (there's more to come, I promise), whose style do you prefer between him and Brant? 

And now I shall ask you a would-you-rather. Would you rather your accomplishments be celebrated BIGTIME in your lifetime, and you become super popular and all that, but once you pass on, they quickly fade away, OR would you rather very limited recognition, but your work be timeless and never forgotten? 

(That's a hard one for me, because I believe in an afterlife, and I can't exactly use the logic of "Well, I won't be around to care after I'm dead anyway", because again, I don't believe that. I guess I'd have to go with the latter, but I can't deny the first option sounds more...lucrative. 😆) 

Alright, well, have an awesome day, folks! I hope to see you soon in next week's update!