Corvayne and Wick ran out into the street, Corvayne leading her by the hand. He could hear another helicopter, and suspected there were more. “Is it too late to hide at Dawn's?” He looked back, not seeing Argyle Prime but sure he would be after them.

“I'm not too proud to ask for her help here...” Wick followed as he started jogging. They had a good mile between them and the far end of Old Town's island where the train station and possibly a respite would be.

“Where's Grunt? Is he okay?” Corvayne asked, trying not to pant as the toll of the day dragged on him.

“I dunno, haven't heard anything from him over the phone.” Wick said as she huffed, glancing behind her every so often. Argyle appeared as Corvayne was looking back over his shoulder, striding after them.

He was turning back and felt his Shadows react to something so he leaned into the way they tugged him, grabbing Wick's shoulders and head and pulling her to the ground as another Argyle swung at them, staff humming as it sliced through the air above them.

He used [Sweep] as he stood, managing to catch the clone's leg and get it to stumble and fall on it's butt, giving him and Wick a chance to stand.

The clone smirked. “It's interesting to see that you always know where I am coming out of my time stop. But it doesn't matter... we're coming.”

Corvayne whipped at the clone and this time the figure let the whip hit his hand and caught the weapon, even as the serpent head started viciously biting his wrist. Corvayne pulled the weapon taunt, but the figure just smirked. “What's wrong? I can afford to sit here the hour it will take to chew through my hand! Hahahahaha!”

He drew his fire breathing dagger and shot a cone of flames into the clones face, which made the extra Argyle let go of his whip and start screaming. He saw Argyle Prime teleport closer as the clone batted the fire on his face. They had another three blocks to go to get to dawn's tower. Corvayne rushed at the burnt clone, following up after a [Disrupt] bolt by taking the dagger and ramming it under the clone's armpit. The tip penetrated but the burst of fire didn't stop the figure, instead pushing Corvayne and the clone apart.

The real Argyle arrived, staff snaking out to try to hit Corvayne's leg. The clone would recover in a moment, and he could hear the helicopter getting closer. That's when a sharp whistle broke out from above the street. Corvayne spared a glance up and saw Nyxion looking over a rooftop before he turned back to keeping both Argyles away from Wick as best he could.

“Hey guard dog, are you looking for this?” Nyxion held up something brassy that caught the street light and gleamed. The core? He had it though!

The bluff worked, as Argyle snapped and pointed, and his clone popped over to the door of the apartment.

Corvayne turned to the real one, who vanished himself. Corvayne felt himself shift a little bit, and saw that his shadow hands had somehow pulled him and Wick away from Argyle, the monk looking furious. Corvayne started to step into staff range then took a step back as Argyle swung at him. Corvayne followed the staff rather than charge at Argyle, using [Cross skill: Sundering Strike] with his dagger, cracking the weapon into thirds.

Argyle took the jagged shard and threw it at Wick, hitting her arm that she threw in front of her torso. With a scream she fell, blood and shards of brittle steel in her wounded arm.

“So weak!” He laughed.

Wick snarled, and with her free hand whipped a disrupt at Argyle's face. The bolt was a little odd, leaving a green cloud and managing to add a bruise to the man's stern face.

Corvayne didn't wait, closing in with his dagger, leaping and using gravity to make himself heavier as he barreled into Argyle. The monk tried to elbow him, but Corvayne was too close for him to get a solid blow in, using the burning dagger twice, only the second time remembering to use [Bleeder] before a boot launched him off the prone monk, who vanished for a moment to re-appear next to a bus stop sign and pull it from the concrete. Corvayne smiled and wiped a little blood from his lip, then turned and lifted Wick. Even before using gravity, she felt light. He started sprinting down the road, his ankles burning and muscles in his calves starting to twitch. He was getting heavier every step. He made his shadow hands sheath his knife and coil the whip around his belt before they faded out.

“We gotta get help for the helicopter, I can't take it out alone. I'm... almost out of everything.”

Wick trembled. “My... fault. Again.”

The next clone popped into view a block ahead. Corvayne would have to bait out the figure using it's time stop before he could close, then get around and out of range. Even through the pain a part of him just wanted to sit down. He felt a fading shadow hand poke him, then point forward, then give him a thumbs up.

“Thanks bud.” He did his best to refocus, even as he felt the lids of his eyes get heavy. His muscles were all sore, and fast healing or not he'd be paying for every step he took. But he slowed as he got near the clone and started to make like he was going to juke sideways into an alleyway, then ran right at the Argyle clone once it appeared, surprising the figure enough that it's attack was sloppy, a low strike that he leapt over. He jolted Wick as he landed but she pointed with her good arm behind them and threw a disrupt out.

“Sorry! Almost to Dawn's place!” He just had to circle one more block, just six buildings or so. He could see the lit tower from here over buildings. His heart fell as a second helicopter swung out in front of them above the street, matching the noise he was hearing behind him. No, he wasn't going to quit. He pivoted and ran sideways, running down an alleyway.

He spotted a metal beam leading up to a lower track. The yellow line, the road home.

“Hold on tight, arm and legs.” He said and helped Wick move to his back as he lightened their weight as much as he could. Then he hopped to the steel beam and started climbing, putting every bit of will into gripping the metal. He ignored the thrumming of choppers, the patter of feet in puddles coming down the alleyway. He had this weird feeling, a gut instinct to go up. The yellow line was safe. Maybe. Or he was losing his mind.

He pulled himself onto the track, the night air and soft rain soothing rather than chilly. The choppers were already rising, spotlights honing in on him. Looking down, he could see two more monks looking up. Maybe it wasn't safe. Two below. Two above. He wavered a little, the weight of Wick or Anastasia or whatever her real name was pulling at him. He squeezed her leg. What kinda last words would he say, watching both of the choppers lining up their guns?

“I love you Wick.”

Wick replied. “Sorry.”

There was the sound of thunder, then the cold rain was joined by hard fragments. The sound repeated, and the noise of choppers was gone, Corvayne spotting two clones fumbling as they fell several stories down. Huh. He shook his head, and started walking along the tracks. There were sounds down below him, and he looked and saw people rushing the two clones. Dawn's heavies leading the press, keeping the monk's arms up as a mob frothed down the alleyway. He was pretty sure he spotted the noodle lady pinning one of the monk's legs, stabbing at the figure with a kitchen knife. What the hell was going on?

Further along the railroad bridge he heard people start chanting. He could look down on the glow from the street and he saw another clone, trying to throw a bag of seeds into the crowd, get shot from the side by a group of Cascadia police and fall fumbling the bag which explode in a green spiked cloud. Someone else drove a degenerating car into another clone, fast enough to bowl the figure over. The Old Town people then mobbed him. Hmm, he probably couldn't stop time to get away if attacking someone to move them broke the effect. He could see further down the street Hari's party chasing a fleeing clone. All the while the people of Old Town were chanting the same word.

“Wick! Wick! Wick!”

Corvayne smiled at it. He looked over and saw Wick had wet cheeks, possibly from the rain. “Looks like they love you too.”

He stopped as the real Argyle pulled himself onto the track ahead of them, caked with blood, eyes blazing. Corvayne rolled his eyes, trying to sound less tired than he felt. “It's over Argyle. Go home.”

“You haven't won. There's nobody on this shitball who can... stand up to me.”

The Monk staggered despite his words. The blood from where Corvayne had jabbed his gut had spread. Corvayne took a deep breath. Argyle was on his last legs. Corvayne set Wick down, then pulled his spear out. He wished he had a cigar to chomp on as he called back. “Nobody... but me.”

“Who are you really? Who do you work for? Goule? Ketis? Is this a test by the Baron himself?”

Corvayne shook his head. “Nobody but me.”

Oddly, Argyle pointed the bus stop sign at him a moment and saluted with it. Which actually scared Corvayne as much as anything else as the Monk had ever called out. The anger seemed to slough out of the man. “Well Nobody. A fine night to die.”

Argyle popped forward, and Corvayne warded his first attack off with his spear, stepping carefully to avoid tripping on the pair of tracks or falling off the raised railway. Argyle could still stop time, a little, but he seemed to only get a second or half second out of it, making small positioning moves before striking. He swung the sign he had like a crowbar or battle axe, all his brutality bending the sign. Corvayne used his spear to divert each attack, rain splattering as the weapons met. His spear bent but never broke as Corvayne deflected and prodded, Argyle barely grazed by his careful attacks. He couldn't commit to a large strike, as every moment he had to push his sore body and tired eyes to track the Monk. It felt like he was in water, silence broken with each sound of metal sign clanging.

Argyle didn't need to hit him but one more time so all Corvayne could do was scrape and cut and grind away at the monks nearly impossible to cut robes and skin. The rain didn't help at all, his spear edge sometimes slipping a little rather than catching as he grazed Argyle then fell back under a barrage of steel. Only once did Argyle attempt to lunge back at Wick, who was slumped against the bridge. Corvayne put his all into using [Cross Skill: Thresh], the thin lines of shadow enough to send Argyle rolling. If he had anything left, he'd have ran over and tried to finish cutting the monk's head off. Instead he walked to where the monk was standing, scoring another cut before a swipe of the sign forced him back, and they staggered together, blows slowing. The monk hit him with a near miss, slicing his arm. Another trade and a glancing blow bruised his leg. He cut the monk back ten times over, his spear pulling him forward even when every other part of him just wanted to stop.

It went on for what felt like an hour. Corvayne, soaked, felt his spear getting heavier each time he deflected a blow. Even if Argyle was slowing down, he felt like he was made of mud, stuck in it, feet and arms moving like water was flowing against them. Each impact of the sign jolted him awake for a moment, his focus on just making another move. One more strike. One more parry. One more little wound that might drop him, if it could just bleed a little more.

Argyle stopped and smirked, and the little third sense Corvayne warned him before a hand clamped on his arm. A clone, covered in arrows and missing an arm had crawled it's way to him. The bus sign jabbed out and buried itself in Corvayne's leg, dropping him to the hard stones.

“Too bad, you thought it was a fair-”

He heard a sound like a sewing machine and an uzi going off as one. Wick, airfoil rapier in hand, stumbled away from Argyle's back, staggering as she resumed a one handed fencers stance, wounded arm tucked in. The monk clutched the front of his robe, confused a moment looking at Corvayne. He started to turn, and the sound came again from [Backstab] going off over and over, and this time the tip went clean through the front of his robes, dark with blood. Argyle looked in the moment sad, confused even, before he fell to a knee. Wick stumbled, and Argyle swung his sign back, hitting her leg and causing her to fall into steel lip of the bridge. Wick screamed as Argyle forced himself to stand, using the sign to hobble back over to Corvayne.

“I'll take you with me.”

Corvayne tried to get the mostly dead clone off him, to crawl backwards. He felt a rumble, and started dragging himself to the tracks.

“I'm going to kill... you... then... take her... alive.”

Corvayne took a deep breath as he pulled himself onto the track. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a train coming for him. Argyle wasn't paying attention. Maybe he'd never had to fight wounded like Corvayne had so many times. Corvayne schooled his face, then acted hurt. Afraid. Defeated. He didn't have to reach too far.

Argyle saw him. Saw his face, and like a dog smelling steak the monk perked up, hobbling a little faster, to loom over Corvayne who had turned to put his back on the tracks, trying to sit up, propping his spear to attempt to stand.

“If... she's.. alive... going to suffer. A lot. You know what they will... do to her... right?”

Corvayne grimaced, pretending to try to stand then flopping down. He couldn't waste a shred of what he had left. The rumbling grew louder, and Argyle stood wavering as he looked down at Corvayne. He smiled, teeth bright. “Oh... you know. She's going to suffer... more... because you had to... make me... try.”

Argyle saw the train coming for Corvayne but he seemed more focused on getting the last word, on not just winning the fight but ending it himself. He took another step, raising the sign above his head to slam down on Corvayne. Corvayne met Argyles eyes and it took everything he had left not to smile or look away, just keep them fixed on him for a half moment as the train came up on where he was laying, as the sign started to drop.

Corvayne wrapped his legs around Argyle's and pushed with his spear using everything he had left to activate [Juxtapose], rolling and dropping Argyle onto the tracks as he fell to the gravel to the side. Argyle tried to stop time, flickering to be halfway sitting before he looked at the light of the train and then there was a thump and the roar of the yellow line speeding by. For a moment Corvayne felt warm rain.

He pushed himself off the other set of tracks, and laid down by where Wick was slumped. She was awake, watching him, expression hard to read with how dark everything was.

Corvayne smiled at her, giving her a weak, bloody thumbs up. “Screw... that... guy.”