Banshee dove for the European team's flag, brushing past Adem Different. Adem's nanites had reconfigured space around his ears to protect them from her wail, and he now sought out a means for them to mimic her flight.
Before he could do so, however, she was intercepted by Icarus Sidewinder. Rocketing past, he grabbed her foot and pulled her along behind him. "Hello there, beautiful. . ." he began.
Grissom Montag popped up out of the ground behind where Edmund Gaunt had been standing. HAD been standing. As Montag's custom made GSC's took aim, the Sandcrawler noticed his foe had vanished. "Wot the. . ."
"Grissom Montag. . ." came a voice from his right.
"International thief and mercenary. . ." the voice sounded on his left.
"Descendant of Nigel Montag, the infamous Incubus of the Atlantic. . ." the voice seemed to be on all sides of him.
Montag and his tunnel were in the shadows of a very large butte, as if in Arizona in the American southwest. Grissom's confusion continued as a small single bladed hand axe made of shadowmatter slashed through one of his guns. "Those things cost money ya. . ." He looked around. No one.
Something grabbed him and pulled him back down into the tunnels below. . .
Danny Hearn, bull torso and all slammed straight into Ozzy Baxter, the holographic computer programs mimicing their true life counterparts with very close accuracy.
A scope centered in on Icarus, still chatting away at Banshee in tow. Take out the hotshot, then the others. . . the hologram of Bell seemed to be thinking.
Drake Marshall dodged a chaos blast and used the blunt end of his sword to take Phouka off of his feet. As he began to grab the flag he noticed Dirk about to fire at Icarus. "No!" He threw the sword he'd acquired and it flew end over end, towards Dirk's weapon, pinning it into the wall of the training room and shattering the illusion of the Arizona desert in one very small spot on said wall.
Dirk swung at Drake with his fists and the two began going at it hand to hand. . .
