A normal night, normal surveillance, normal routine. The recent events had no effect on what he was set out to do. He was a creature of habit, and his work never faltered, not once. But tonight, something felt off. As though something inevitably foul was going to happen, a meeting he didn’t want. From across the rooftops, beyond what human eyes could see, he waited for it. That’s when he spotted him, off in the distance, the mirror he had hoped would be shatted.
The Red Archer, the “Original”.
Outrage. Hatred. Disgust. It all broiled up to the surface before he could even recognize what it was. Rapidly, he silenced it. If he was able to spot his counterpart, then so could the other. The reaction was instant. “Trace on.” A spark of light in his hands signaled the rebirth of his weapons, but not of his typical Kanshou and Bakuya, but rather of an old bow he once used long ago…
He aligned the shot. Precision was one choice, but absolute decimation was a better one. The source of the attack would be the ever expendable false phantasm. With Caladbolg as the ammunition, the explosion would be utterly devastating, much like his use of it in a previous contest. And just like that, the bad memories, the unwanted feelings, would be wiped out, along with the rooftop itself, most likely. It would be over before it even began.
“For shame, Archer. I expected better of you.”
Part of him wanted to enjoy this, to relish the act of killing this miserable existence. But there simply wasn’t any joy in it. Just a dull disgust and a bitter spite. If he just died here and now, it would be the greatest gift he would ever receive. But even as the improvised arrow flew through the air with unerring accuracy, he knew it wasn’t that simple. It never was.
There was a brief moment in which an odd phenomenon took place. A sudden flash. A mental image of some foreign circuitry, followed by a feeling of discomfort throughout his body. Something that felt familiar, yet foreign at the same time. So foreign it was almost frightening. His body reacted to it before his mind did, knowing full well just what it was that was coming. And at that very same time.
He brandished his weapon. The other was still hidden, but the massive influx of magical energy gathering around a single location gave away his position. Not like the other likely cared to keep himself hidden, if he was willing to use /that/. How it was that this was happening, he did not know. Nor did he care, at this point in time. Pondering could wait until the danger had passed. Because though Archer reacted, he was still a step behind the other’s action. The moment he formed his bow, the other had already loaded their ammunition. When Archer loaded his, the shot had already been charged.
The projectile fired, slicing through the air with a sound that may very well have been the call of the reaper. It would be close, but he could do it. Calm analysis of the situation made it clear that even though he was a step behind, he could intercept the attack before it got to him, as long as he rushed through the process. It would be lacking in it’s usual power, a crude replica below even his usual fakeries. But he didn’t care about perfection right now. He just needed something to intercept it.
‘I am the bone of my sword.’
Had he been even a second too late, the oncoming ‘arrow’ would have struck him directly in his head. Such a precise shot that was filled with nothing but kiling intent. Even then, Archer’s own attack had flown only a short distance before the two projectiles clashed. As such, the explosion occurred a great distance away from the initial attacker. Archer, on the other hand, was knocked off of the building by the resulting shockwave and was sent hurtling down towards the earth below. A landing he could make with ease. However..
“They probably won’t wait to just let me fall.. huh.“