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“Hm…” Sai glanced over, seeing the pink-haired bounty hunter already taking pursuit, “it appears that that one is already managed. In that case…” And with that, the strange man vanished. Before Íroas could question anything about that interaction, the sound of screeching metal caught his attention. His eyes darted over to the new haphazard supports that Sai created. The spectral hands were pulling harder. "Everyone! Get closer to me!" Íroas bellowed as he motioned to the people on the stage. The people looked at him, scared and confused, but began to gather behind him. His eyes drifted over to the strange man who controlled the hands. That strange terrorist must be stopped. Íroas reached out, his massive hand wrapping around the mic stand that the president neglected during his speech. The foreign bodyguard raised it up like a spear, holding it back as he stared at his target. All he had to do was throw it. Yet he froze. Not because he was nervous, not because he thought he might miss. No. He was afraid. Afraid of killing the man. Killing a monster, that was easy. He could do that without flinching. But a person? Even one attacking others, Íroas found the thought of killing them horrifying. But something had to be done. Space itself felt like it contorted. Íroas arched his back as if he was drawing a bow. Narrowing his eyes, Íroas aimed, straight and true. With his target in sight... he fired. The mic stand took off. Not like a spear, nor like an arrow. No, the speed and force behind the throw could only be described like a single instrument. It took off like a bullet. With such power behind it, it could not be blocked, nor could it be evaded. And a blow that could not be blocked or evaded could be only one thing. Fatal. The awful sound of metal penetrating flesh. The target fell to his knees. Everyone on stage released a breath that they didn't realize they were holding. The fatal weapon didn't skewer the man through his chest nor his head. It went right through his leg, leaving him alive. To his credit, the man held himself up with the good leg he still had and a hand. He didn't let out a cry of pain, nor did he complain. His face shot up, glaring in Íroas's direction, but it was a glare that was clearly not directed at the man himself, but rather, the obstacle he represented. "Pain of the flesh is less than nothing," he seethed between clenched teeth, raising his free hand up as his arm in its entirety emitted a glow similar to the spectral arms that continued to pull on the supports of the stage. "This stage will be torn down, and your President with it!" With a command issued not by words, but by the gesture of his glowing arm ripping through the air as if he himself were pulling the supports out from the stage, the giant spectral arms did the same. The metal - reinforced though it was - bent, creaked... and then snapped in two. The roof of the stage broke apart, and came down upon Íroas and those around him. The people screamed as the man watched the roof fall. An understandable reaction. However, something nagged at him. Looking over to the president with precious few seconds left, the man saw he was unafraid. Not because the president didn't fear death. It was because he didn't even consider it a possibility in this moment. Íroas raised his hands over his head, adjusting his stance as he spread out his legs. The full weight of the roof crashed into those massive hands. The roof then covered everyone, blocking them from sight. It was done. The roof was taken down. Yet to the man's disbelief, that wasn't the end. The edges of the roof cracked and fell as it was slowly lifted into the air. Underneath all the rubble was Íroas, holding the entire weight of the roof on his shoulders, like the mythological Atlas come to life. No one was hurt, not even a scratch. Íroas soon completely raised the roof over his head, like it weighed nothing. With no effort at all, Íroas then threw the roof. It landed behind the hooded man and his thorny accomplice, away from anyone who could be hurt and cutting off the villains' escape. Before the hooded man could react, he felt his feet leaving the ground. He had all but a few seconds to realize that Íroas grabbed the mic cord and swung, using the hooded man as a weapon. Searing pain shot through his leg as the mic tried to unsuccessfully dislodge itself from his leg. Instead, it dragged him along through the air, and smashed him into the thorny lady. The wind was knocked out of both of them as they crashed into the ground. Íroas didn't move from his spot, he instead turned to look at the President and the innocents caught up in this. He would make sure to protect them, no matter what it took.