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A cluster of molten iron flew toward him, but Banda was ready for it. He flipped out of the way, swirling up into the air as his wings expanded out and gained strength again. A surge of heat built up in his gut, preparing to spew a white hot laser at Darksteel in retaliation while perhaps devouring more iron chunks with an open mouth, too. He fully expected the iron to keep swarming him as he moved, following him up into the sky like machine gun fire.

Instead, he saw too late that Darksteel had chosen to close the gap and was now right in his face. The armored man crashed into him, elbow deep into Banda's scaly stomach, sending him shooting back down to the ground, bouncing and skidding across the dirt again.

The heat laser choked and died in his throat, burning and dribbling out of the sides of his mouth as Banda struggled to find his breath again.

What had just happened? Darksteel had changed tactics on him. He wanted to get up close and personal now? What, he wasn't afraid of being eaten again? Agh, why would he be? Damn him.

Banda didn't need long to rebound. He flung himself back up into the air and activated mementori again. That was a risk, as always, but he was in control again. He could suppress the damned souls. And he needed the extra sensory advantage, right now.

His body burned, but he didn't lose focus. Where was Darksteel? Where had he gone? He had to be--

Above. Banda sensed him at the last moment and narrowly avoided another pummeling. He lashed out with hand-sized claws, and the blow landed cleanly.

But it stopped. Bits of armor seemed to fly off, but the claws didn't pierce, didn't cut. What the--?

Darksteel went for the gut again, this time with a materialized blade. It didn't break through his scales, strangely enough, but the spot was still a bit sore, so it didn't exactly feel like acupuncture, either.

Banda resorted to his gaseous form. Darksteel wanted to fight up close? That was fine. He'd smother him with acidic red mist and burn him out of that little armored shell until the metal was all that remained.

Rage fueled him. Made his attacks hit harder. His acid more potent. His smoke more oppressive.

Until an explosion burst through his concentration, as if hitting him directly in his mind. The smoke faltered and lagged while he battled his own disorientation.