“Yes, sir.” Jones was already agreeing before his brain registered the ‘stupid’ part of that request. He thought that what they were doing, waging a two-man campaign against monsters that way outclassed them was stupid. So, he was having trouble imagining what could possibly make their already deranged lack of a plan even stupider.

But whatever.

Jones reloaded his weapon with more alchemical ammunition and started taking even, measured, unhurried shots at the fast evil little milk jug buggers that were hurrying toward them. Peripherally, he was aware of Kyle doing things. His book was still balanced on one hand and Kyle held another over it before giving a command.

“Archive query.” The book glowed and its open pages seemed to lift slightly as if in anticipation of his next request. “Retrieve spell.” The pages lifted higher and began thrumming. “Battle Armor – Saint of Warriors, Armor of God’s General. Replicate.” The pages flipped frantically through the book until opening on what Jones could only assume was the page that the spell was referenced on.

Wait a second? Wasn’t that the name of a certain famous warlock’s armor? That was a spell granted to another warlock by their patron. You couldn’t just learn a patron granted spell, could you? Maybe that’s why Kyle thought it was a stupid idea. He was clearly hesitating, unsure whether or not he should continue with the spell. Jones was about to speak up when –

“Oh. Shit!” One of the little meat jugs, that’s what he was calling them because the milk jug manifestations had already turned almost completely organic having been mostly organic to begin with, had made it close enough to bite him on the knee. “Mother fucker.” A swift kick had it exploding into a pink spray of…sludgy meat. He tried once again.

“Kyle, I don’t – ” The young warlock had steeled his nerves in that moment that Jones was distracted and his words didn’t come fast enough.

“Configure, Replicate, Activate!” They’d been said with such finality, as if Kyle had been expecting something to go horribly wrong. And for a few moments, nothing happened. With a shrug, Jones returned his full attention to the cartons of meat and the larger monsters that were shepherding them. Because those were some big MFers.

However, behind Jones and to the side, Kyle’s book flared brightly, and a rising sound of trumpets began. Brilliant golden light shone from Kyle’s location and Jones chanced a glace over at the young man. Sure enough, there in the center of the light, armor was forming over the grinning warlock.

Where Camina Wattkins’ armor was white and gold, this armor was different. Anywhere that Camina’s armor was white, this shone a gleaming midnight black with metallic blue accents where the original had gold. While it had the same general outline as the armor famously worn by Camina and her patron the Archangel Michael, this armor was decidedly in Kyle’s style.

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“Fuck yeah!” Kyle screamed and pumped a fist before it was jerked out by an invisible force and a gauntlet formed over it. “It worked. It worked. Ahhhh…” The triumphant shout ended with a gurgled horrified scream.

Whirling, Jones was faced with Kyle, swarmed by more meat jugs that had somehow snuck the fuck around his guard through the corner building they were beside. A stream of the little fuckers was flooding out of a door behind them and had attacked Kyle from behind as his transformation was finishing.

A gauntleted hand reached up and tore the creatures off Kyle’s face and head before a helmet flashed into place. The floating segments of his wings started flexing and shaking off the mini monsters clambering on them before they became charged with electricity. Sparks traveled between the wing segments as they started floating away from the suit in a very unwing-like fashion. Then they became an electrified blender of death.

There were squeals, popping explosions like water balloons impacting on something, and a fine pink mist with larger white chunks floated away from Kyle as the whirring sound died. His wings returned to their normal position, flexing in the way a bird’s might when they were anxious. Jones stared dumbfounded.

“Well alright then.” Then he grinned and chuckled a little because Kyle had forgotten to close the faceplate of his helmet first. Absolute disgust was written all over the warlock’s face as he tried to spit out the pink mist of monster parts which had covered his entire head. The armor, of course, was somehow spotless. Which was even funnier.

“Note to self.” Kyle called out to Jones. “Close the faceplate first. Yeah.” After a quick second of thought, he added with a concerned voice, “Where’d my Codex go?” He looked over the ground near his feet, turning in a circle as he went. “Locate Codex.” Faint chiming started in response to Kyle’s call.

The chiming was coming from the suit and after a few befuddled seconds of patting himself down, he located the book in a pocket-slash-drawer on the exterior of the suit in the general area where his concealed carry magic book holster had been. Pressing on the location with one of his gauntleted hands caused the compartment to open.

“Nioce!” He exclaimed. Breathing a visible sigh of relief, Kyle closed the compartment again with a grin. “Oh. Behind you, Jones.” Jones spun on his heel at the warning just in time to dodge the surprisingly quiet larger monster that had been sneaking up on him along with several others.

‘Crap!” Jumping out of the way, he stabbed a monster through the side with the bayonet on the end of his rifle. Screams came from the creature as flames erupted from the weapon plunged into it. A quick pull of the trigger blew Jones backward off the beast as the alchemical charges in the rounds sent him flying backward into a brick wall.

“Jones, I got this.” Kyle called out then then took off flying at the group of larger monsters. His wand flared up with a larger electric blade than before and he began dodging and weaving among the larger manifestation, slashing and stabbing at them as he went. Shrieks and screams gurgling into silence drew the attention of observers.