Each of their hands find purchase. The dog's grasp a smoke bomb. Having seen his share of shinobi cinema, he recognizes it as once. Glancing off to the void, he sees that it holds a key. Just as he opens his mouth to yap, another voice cuts through.[break][break]
"Eat my ass!" He shouts into the cameras. "Yer just mad we're wi-" A motivated, deadly legend crashes through the door. His eyes cut to the void, suggesting a course of action, speaking quiet.[break][break]
"You go up. I go down."[break][break]
Nor will Genesect see them go cleanly.[break][break]
Smoke spreads across the room in an explosion of force. Crouching, the dog waits to hear signs of the void's upward climb before he slips back downstairs.

Oscar was starting to get concerned about Hitoshi's vitriol toward him. Had he left that bad of an impression? Maybe he should have answered his questions--but there were just so many! Oscar rubbed his chin, his eyes wandering toward Hitoshi's 'sword'. He raised an eyebrow as he got an idea. "Hey there--sword. Do you want anything? Snacks? A comfortable seat? Something to do? I got coloring pages around here somewhere...maybe a tablet too..."

Prime's search was yielding little results, and as it failed to locate its targets once again frustration would boil up from within. Images of successful hunts against ancient beasts flashed through its mind, accelerating Prime's fury. Metal orbs launched from its cannon, flying about before blowing up several doors and pieces of furniture (Magnet Bomb). Prime waited as the smoke of its bombs combined with the smoke of Hitoshi's smoke ball. Realizing its error, Prime would huff and turn toward the stairwell. It shall at least try to cut off their advance, unaware that the duo has already made it to their respective floors.

Genesect advanced upward to the third floor, and began its search anew.

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()Fourth Floor:
()Third Floor: Genesect (Search), Zev Harcourt
(*)Second Floor:
()First Floor: Hitoshi Inoue

The first floor smoke has cleared·

A question rouses the blade from its slumber. The Hasegawa Muramasa floats with ghostly elegance towards the master of the house. Its eye fixates on the camera screen, where the dog to whom it is bound finally makes his way to the first floor. It shares none of its master’s childish anger at their host. Instead, its red cloth handle caresses the human’s wrist, right near where a nice cluster of veins would be. No attempt is made to piece the skin, but the blade’s eye betrays open hunger. There’s only one kind of snack it likes, and its current blood bag is busy proving himself for the amusement of Rocket. [break][break]
And what a show he’s making of things. When it becomes clear that Genesect Prime has deigned to travel upstairs instead of down, he begins a methodical search of places not yet checked. Occasionally, he coughs from residual smoke. [break][break]
”C’mon, c’mon, come to Papa…” He says with all the gusto of an old man at a pachinko parlor.

A KEY HAS BEEN FOUND

Hitoshi's efforts on the first floor paid off, happening upon this floor's key upon reaching a hand to the slightly hidden top most shelf within a storage closet. With another key down, the two only needed two more.

Oscar cringed as the sword fondled his veins, knowing exactly what the blade desired. He shrugged, rolling up his sleeve. "Alright, but yo my blood is spicy. It used to be toxic so sip, don't guzzle. Also if you kill me Genesect is going to blow up everyone within a twenty mile radius." As Oscar offered his exposed wrist to the leech, he would discover Hitoshi's success and announce it over the PA. "That's two keys down, two to go!"

Prime's head snapped up as it heard Oscar's announcement. It shuddered violently, barely containing its rage as it continued its search for a target. Zev's own search would only turn up one thing: Prime itself. Half way down a corridor, Prime decided to double back. This unpredictable movement caused the two to turn the same corner at the same time--leaving Zev wide open.

Prime immediately launched into a sprint, aiming to smack Zev and take out one of his 'lives'.

TTOYkjoB

()Fourth Floor:
()Third Floor: Genesect(Hunt), Zev Harcourt
(*)Second Floor:
(*)First Floor: Hitoshi Inoue

If a sword can look surprised, the Hasegawa Muramasa manages. It does not shirk, or need to be told twice. Its threaded cloth turns sharp, piercing a vein and drinking. A metallic hum makes the whole blade thrum. It likes this taste, it likes it very well.[break][break]
On the monitor, the blade's owner holds up a key and cheers. A wide-brimmed smile perches on his face, a moment of triumph fading as he hears the commotion from up above. Pocketing the key, he does the only logical thing: climbs. Dipping into the stairway, he huffs, rushing up the stairs. He tries to control his breathing, drowning out the sounds of a displeased legend. Its rage is terrible, and he has nothing with which to fight the machine.[break][break]
He reaches the second floor, still covered in smoke. With its key gone, he sees no point in stopping. Even if there was a hidden toy, he thinks it more likely he would run into a trap. So, again, he climbs.[break][break]
Peering out at a Genesect on the warpath, the dog chooses to wait. Zev Harcourt is tough. If this were a chess game, the man-shaped void would be a queen. Looking up the stairs, waiting for his moment to run, a stray thought crosses his mind.[break][break]
If he can make it across the chessboard, a pawn can be a queen, too.[break][break]

Prime pursued its target with unbridled ferocity. Every obstacle thrown its way became a burst of debris as Prime smashed through it. More and more clutter began to cling to the hunter's body, too lost in its blood lust to notice or care. Impulses pushed it forward, far off memories of leaping through the brush in pursuit of a desperate mark. There was no where for Zev to run, nor would it be possible for him to hide!

It pushed against the beast's chair-shield, driving it like a football player drives a blocking dummy. When there was no more corners to push Zev into, the chair itself was thrown like one might throw the kitchen sink at a persistent problem. Prime tore that as well, stuffing and plastic enveloping its vision. It was so sure that its chase would be successful, that it did not even care.

Yet as Prime pushed through the door after Zev, it would quickly realize that its target had eluded it. Prime swung around in every direction, completely dumbfounded how its prey managed to give it the slip. It even doubled back, thinking that perhaps it had accidentally cleaved right through Zev in its fervor. No, Prime recalled the devourer's strength. Such a feat was impossible--which could only mean.

The hunt had failed.

Prime lifted its claws to its head, its visor sparking as fury overrode its programming. It let out a soul shattering cry, so loud and distressed that it gave even Oscar pause. He looked up from his sword IV, arching his brows as he stared into the flickering center monitor. "The fuck is it doing..."

Prime began ripping up the third floor in a deranged frenzy, obsessed with relocating its target.

Genesect is too distracted to search properly, for this turn you may change floors without a hiding roll. However, your luck will be short lived...

()Fourth Floor:
()Third Floor: Genesect(Hunt), Zev Harcourt, Hitoshi Inoue
(*)Second Floor:
(*)First Floor:

The smoke on the second floor has faded.

Dogs do not question rampaging gods. They act, driven by pure survival. He places his faith in his pack mate, trusting that he too will survive and act in their best interest. He ascends, climbing the stairs. Sounds of the destruction below fade. Stray thoughts play at his mind, a question concerning what happens if Genesect Prime, and not its prey, breaks a rule.[break]
Thoughts best left for the philosophers. Instead, he scans the fourth floor. It's made in mockery of an executive office. He knows this because he's killed executives before. There is power in their desk, an assurance that they own this small piece of the world. His cold steel fangs have reminded many of their true place in the world, and how little control they truly have.[break]
His hands search through liquor cabinets, through desks, under a secretary's chair. Anywhere a key might be, he frantically looks. The stray machine god will not tear blindly forever. It will come for them, and it will come to kill them.[break]
The longer this goes on, the less it feels like a game.

One might make the mistake to think that Oscar had lost control over his cybernetic warrior. True he provided his favorite soldier with a great deal of freedom, but Prime was still on a leash. Oscar pulled a device out of his inner coat pocket, no bigger than a garage door opener. As Prime's tantrum reached increasingly deranged heights, Oscar would simply press the sole button on the device.

Prime paused mid thrash, as if it had suddenly been frozen in time. A second later it would calmly shift into a neutral pose, looking around as if it did not recognize its surroundings. Prime had been mentally reset, and soon its programming would fill in the blanks in its memory. It recalled its current mission, and began searching the fourth floor much more placidly.

Normally Prime had only enough understanding of emotions to emulate them--not experience them fully. This new development deeply concerned Oscar, but looking into it can wait until after the training exercise. With that little crisis taken care of, Oscar put the remote back into his coat and reclined. He looked to his blade companion and smiled, "This might just be the bloodloss talking, but you're pretty cute for a blood-sucking sword."

Unable to locate its targets, Prime decided to slink into the shadows to listen carefully for its targets. Or perhaps just to catch them unawares...

Genesect has switched floors, but which one is he on? Do you anticipate it and hide or risk being hunted for possible profit?

Genesect(Stealth)

()Fourth Floor: Zev Harcourt Hitoshi Inoue
()Third Floor:
(*)Second Floor:
(*)First Floor:

”Barcode.” He says the word with severity. They’re close. What concerns him is that there isn’t any sign of the machine god. Did it go up, or go down? A question, he thinks, that doesn’t matter. It comes for them. It is armed with the knowledge that they have the keys from the lower floor. It comes to claim them. All the same, he presses on in the search. There are two of them and one of this god. It cannot chase them both at once, with how spread out they are. One can hide. One can run. A pack is strong because of its numbers. [break][break]
He pops into the executive bathroom. The dog knows the habits of rich men. Perhaps, behind the mirror, will be a hidden compartment. Such men always keep uppers and cocaine close by.