Sephiroth is, to monster storm-bird senses, a delicious serpentine snack in humanlike shape. They know the snake hiding somewhere in there. Unfortunately for them. But it does mean it might be easier to keep their attention, if the shininess of the cab's gleaming chrome and paint job doesn't.
There is no sense of recognition in Sephiroth himself, who might have if Vincent appeared in a Turk uniform, but without it, he's just another well-armed traveler, one that might not need quite as much defense as some of the others. "...Very well." He could argue it; he would probably be far more efficient at culling the creatures than the gunman, but none of his materia are working and thus any combat at range is going to leave him at a bit of a disadvantage.
Besides, it's HIS truck. Letting someone else drive it did not sit well.
Where Masamune's gone by the time he opens the truck's door and climbs inside is anyone's guess, though there's brief lingering motes of violet light from .. somewhere. The engine starts hard with a sputtering cough before it settles into a steady rumble.
Vincent better be holding on, because as one of the storm-birds dives for truck and its tasty snake interior, Sephiroth floors it. A truck that big and bulky probably shouldn't be able to accelerate quite that fast in a spray of gravel, debris, road chunks and dust, something that seems to annoy the diving bird, which pulls up in a flurry of wingbeats and a scream of outrage before it turns to pursue. So do a few others.
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There is no sense of recognition in Sephiroth himself, who might have if Vincent appeared in a Turk uniform, but without it, he's just another well-armed traveler, one that might not need quite as much defense as some of the others. "...Very well." He could argue it; he would probably be far more efficient at culling the creatures than the gunman, but none of his materia are working and thus any combat at range is going to leave him at a bit of a disadvantage.
Besides, it's HIS truck. Letting someone else drive it did not sit well.
Where Masamune's gone by the time he opens the truck's door and climbs inside is anyone's guess, though there's brief lingering motes of violet light from .. somewhere. The engine starts hard with a sputtering cough before it settles into a steady rumble.
Vincent better be holding on, because as one of the storm-birds dives for truck and its tasty snake interior, Sephiroth floors it. A truck that big and bulky probably shouldn't be able to accelerate quite that fast in a spray of gravel, debris, road chunks and dust, something that seems to annoy the diving bird, which pulls up in a flurry of wingbeats and a scream of outrage before it turns to pursue. So do a few others.