Everything had happened so quickly. While Tatsuo was silently awaiting the arrival to Zurika, he closed his eyes -- not sleeping, but rather in a sort of trance. He knew that he would have to be up quick when ordered. Finally, the time came. With the small packs that were on the backs of the given suits, he knew that that was either the coordinators being far too careful with the mission, or that they would have to jump to get on the island. So when the hatch was opened, and Lucea ordered to jump, he wasn't very surprised. In fact, he nearly laughed when Raiden spoke his disagreement with the major. He watched as first Lucea jumped, rather admiring the way that she simply followed orders, then as Raiden prepared to jump, holding Xanadu close to him with those psychokinetic limbs of his. Ever since Tatsuo first saw them in action, he had been somewhat careful around Raiden, but now, seeing them used in such a way, it could even be described as spectacular, despite its rather unspectacular visual at the moment. Then something went wrong. Very wrong: first, Raiden's parachute did not open. One could see him and Xanadu freefalling, until, amidst the panic, they seemed to simply disappear into some red barrier. One could only assume -- and hope -- that this was the work of Xanadu. However, just when minds would be calmed about this, the next horrible event came -- sabotage. The sound of explosions filled Tatsuo's ears, light from the blast blinded him. And right away, if one were to be looking at Tatsuo, he would see a change in the marksman's demeanor. What was once an awkward boy of a man seemed to steel himself, standing straighter than ever. His pupils constricted, making his eyes seem to be plates of red and blue. The moment the explosions cleared, he looked toward the ripped side of the plane chunk he was standing on, and began running. If one were to see like Tatsuo, they would see the trajectories of the two halves. Already feel the drag that the wind would cause. Already see the footprints leading him on, maybe even without realizing that all of this was merely in his minds eye. Like some great mathematician, his mind automatically went through the necessary calculations without him even needing to think about it. Then his stride reached the burning edge of the halved out plane. He jumped. Contorting his body in a way that would make him reduce the drag upon his body, just as he saw it in his mind's eye, he neared the other half of the plane. the wind cut at his wild hair, yet his face was calm, almost disturbingly so, for if one really looked, he might even say that Tatsuo had a smirk on his face. Righting himself at just the last moment, like some miracle, he landed perfectly on the edge of the front half of the plane. Taking out his guns from their holsters, he walked forward, each step with a sharp clack on the heated metal. It was then he saw them: the saboteurs, looking -- no, sneering at him -- as if in contempt for his bad luck. Staring at them for a moment, Tatsuo raised his guns toward them, blue energy emitting from the revolver, Shèng, and red energy emitting from the semiautomatic pistol, Yuànhèn, he looked at them, as if in pity. Then, in a smooth voice that defied the situation, one that was simultaneously proud, dripping with bloody intentions, and pitiful, he spoke the following words: "You know what? Fuck. You." Pulling the triggers simultaneously on his two guns, blasts of searing red and blue energy came out of the barrels, twirling with each other, combining and separating on their way, until, upon reaching an area near the saboteurs, they exploded in a flash of opposing colors. Searing skin with all the beauty of a glorious firework, the explosion ripping apart their bodies, their white blood splattering everywhere. Wait. White blood? Tatsuo recoiled when he saw it splattering towards him. At first, he pinned it down to merely reflexes, but then he remembered the Major's words, warning about the viral substance. Perhaps Tatsuo wqould have considered this event more if he hadn't remember yet one more very important thing: he was in the wreckage of a plane falling rapidly towards the ocean. Running back towards the open area behind him, Tatsuo saw that at this height, his parachute would be useless. Was this the end? No. It can't be. His mind working quickly, he saw a chance. A chance that with an inch of error, he would most likely die. What was an inch, however, to someone who can feel and see to the level that Tatsuo could? Waiting a few moments for the altitude to dip to a safe level, he took a deep breath -- a breath that may very well be his last. Once again, he jumped. Freefalling towards the water, he began to move his body in various ways. For a long while, he simply did his best to be parallel to the ground, reducing his speed as much as possible. Closer, closer the waves came, and when he could just see the breakers in detail, he moved again. This time, he put his hands in front of and below him, nearly touching, with his body facing diagonal and down. He could now hear the waves crashing against each other. Then, as if in molasses, time seemed to slow down. In Tatsuo's mind, he couldn't hit the water soon enough, yet everything, including his own fall, seemed to nearly stop. Then he hit. First, his hands broke the surface tension of the water, stinging and cutting his hands while some blood dripped down to the ocean's floor. Then, the rest of his body hit, though softer, due to his hands breaking the water's surface first. That was what he was worried about. When he found himself amidst a black, liquid void, only broken by the various bubbles of light that his movements in the water had created, he turned his body upward, swimming to the top of the waves. The water chilled him to the bone, but his adrenaline was strong enough for him not to notice -- or maybe merely not care. Slower than he might under better circumstances, he began to swim towards the island.