Decimus stood idly nearby the window, arms folded behind his back. The sun was high in the sky, its light reflecting off the glass of the mighty buildings of Washington. There would be no more time to waste. An evacuation of the city had been ordered, and all of the precious artifacts belonging to the city had been taken. Most people had left, though a good number of them had opted to remain in their city. For fear of looters, for fear of losing their belongings, their homes. Fear. Fear of disorder. Fear of chaos, of uncertainty. Decimus had seen this world's true face. It was afraid of him, though soon it would thank him. Direct action was needed. Direct control.
As he walked into the main hall, he pondered the events leading to up to the present. The Romans had come through the portal to their world to this one. The natives had arrogantly refused their aid despite the anarchy their world experienced. Decimus had revealed the Embassy, and met with the United Nations. And he was refused again. But justice does not surrender so easily. He would bring this world to its knees, so that it could stand up taller than before. Above the filth. Above the violence.
He closed his eyes for a second, and his armor marched obediently behind him, controlled by the metal wreath on his head. Extending his arm, the suit itself opened from the front and enveloped him. The slits of his eyes on the faceplate glowed with energy, with power. The power that would bring discipline to a world. Behind him, his army rose. Armored from head to toe in similarly advanced technological suits, his Legion was an imposing sight. They acted as one powerful unit. The bottom of the Embassy opened, and they flew in squads down to the city. Landing upon every rooftop, on every street, within every vantage point, the Legionnaires prepared for battle. A vast majority of them stayed within the Constitution Gardens surrounding the Washington Monument, eyes turned to the sky. The siege of DC had ended as quickly as it began.
This world had a rather impressive number of superhumans. Resistance was to be expected-it was only natural. They would come, and they would fall. But ideally without permanent harm. Decimus had told his Legion to avoid lethal force in their methods. Should any of their own be killed, however, they were to retaliate with the maximum power of their fully armed and operational battle suits.
And so it begins, thought Decimus. As a great ancestor of his once said, the die is cast.
"But da~ad!" young Ricky Dufresne protested in that incessant whine common to his age group.
"No buts! And no powers while you're at school."
---
"Okay Ricky, this is it. This is your big break! Time to show them what you're made of!"
Punching the air, he tried to land twelve thousand hits on an imaginary Muhammad Ali. He missed every single one. Not even the fastest can compete with the greatest. Ricky audibly laughed in his rundown apartment room, zooming through fast enough to change into his uniform and still not catch anything on fire. At least not this time.
The uniform, an obvious nod to the speedster Mach, fit snugly in all the right places. Ricky pulled the hood over his head, smirking like a little kid in a candy store. To him, this would be his proving grounds. No one knew who Split Second was. People usually called him Red Racer or something dumb like that. He didn't race anything, because there wasn't anything that could keep up with him! At least, he liked to think so. In all honesty, Ricky was arrogant and proud of his speed, but he never doubted for a second that he could be stopped. There were plenty of dangerous things out in that world he circled hundreds of times over already.
One of them hovered above the nation's capital, in the aftermath of the attack on the White House and President Stark's disappearance. As a mutant, Ricky never really achieved anything from Stark's administration. In fact, he was fired from all thirteen of his jobs within the span of a week. Even though he had harvested a reputation with each manager, made friends, and cooked the fastest fries at McDonald's, his "unique DNA" made him more "accident-prone" than other coworkers.
But none of that mattered now! The future stood at his fingertips, and he set off to take it.
Sprinting down the stairs in his costume, he dropped off his rent at Ms. Dempsey's desk and scratched Buttons' calico nose.
To Washington DC, or bust!
---
"But dad, why can't I run faster than all the other kids? You know I can!"
"I know, son. But if you suddenly explode down the playground at Mach 4, there are going to be people looking for you. I don't want them to take you away, do you understand?" Keith Dufresne, a widower, patted his boy's head and pulled up a chair, which Ricky hoisted himself into.
"Now tell me again, which type is effective against Dragon? This Elite Four Lance guy is giving me a tough time."
Hours before the attack began, the city was still being evacuated. One side of the road was moving at a snail's pace, as the citizens attempted to flee very slowly. On the other side of the road, things were moving a little quicker, as the occasional motorist decided to make their escape by utilising the wrong side of the road. It was a strategy that was quickly becoming more popular, as everyone realised that no-one was trying to drive into Washington anyway. The air was thick with the honking of horns and the revving of engines. Those who weren't already in their vehicles were dragging their belongings down the street. Some were heading towards buses set aside for evacuees without their own transportation, while many of them realised that traffic was moving so slowly it was probably a better idea to walk their way to safety.
As the river of evacuees flowed out of the capital, one man jutted out like a rock, resisting the flow.
Many looked at him strangely as they passed. Children in particular seemed intrigued by his choice not to follow the crowd, before being pulled away by parents and told to ignore him. Had any of them looked a little closer, they would have seen what lay behind the layers of grime and facial hair.
Guy Geller used to be a hero. Gaining incredible powers in an almost-tragic accident, he spent much of his early adult life protecting the world from dangers too powerful for them to fathom. That was two decades ago, when he was a young man. Since that day he had risen to the rank of superstar as an Academy Award winning actor, then fallen to the rank of scum-of-the-Earth as he was given a lengthy prison sentence for his crimes. Despised by the people who used to revere him, the man formerly known as Giga-Guy was released from his sentence early a year ago, recruited into a team of heroes. It was a chance for redemption, for the fallen star to rise from the ashes and reclaim his forgotten glory.
In the year since his release, Guy had achieved none of this.
He was a broken man, one without a reason to go on and yet no way out. He was strong, but lacked the strength to do what was necessary to end his torment. Standing between the legion and their conquest, he felt a spark of the man he used to be, though in his heart he partly hoped that the invaders would prove strong enough to do what no human ever could. One way or another, he hoped that the battle would bring peace.
For hours the convoy crawled out the city, leaving the former hero to stare intently at the floating menace above. Eventually all were evacuated and the allocated time drew to an end. The behemoth opened its maw and swarms of soldiers burst forth. Guy simply observed as they took up their positions, a lone man standing in the street, his muscular frame hidden by his ill-fitting clothes and baggy overcoat. He was no longer the rash young man he once was, he was not fool enough to make the first move. Instead, he waited. Waiting was something he excelled at.
(--This unit advises against a stance of pacifism. Pacifism is the fabrication of imperfect biological lifeforms too weak to evolve--), Merlin jokingly remarked, the nine foot tall A.I. platform's robotic, monotone cadence failing to appropriately convey a tone of audible jocoseness. "Tis almost alarming, you know?", the suave, socially disarming notes of the Black Viper's Spanish accent buoyantly permeating through the tame atmosphere, a winning upwards curl of the lips accompanying his coming words, "How often our thoughts are similar. I created you for the purpose of assisting me in a variety of things. Among them, how to manage my objectives and obligations with a more... logical approach", Santiago paused, shifting his mesmeric, sapphire blue eyes towards Merlin's luminescent photo-receptor.
"And yet I find that more often than not, we conceptualize identical approaches prior to even discussing them. It makes me wonder. Did I subconsciously design you to formulate ideas and whatnot that support the types of opinions that I'm certain to have? Or am I simply just that damn good?", he sportively inquired with a rhetorical, witty edge. (--You are a festival of unnecessary chitchat, Santiago. What do you intend to do about Emperor Decimus' ambition?--), Merlin asked, the character of curiosity in his voice drawing a subtle smile from the mercurial Madridista. "I was friendly with Emperor Decimus during his initial ingress on our planet. I respect his intellect. But that respect will change nothing. This madness based on the mano's self-righteous entitlement to dictate another civilization's progression is almost humorously obnoxious, no? Quite the arrogant one, to think that he is uniquely positioned to do this, that it is within his right to force this".
"I will stop him, Merlin".
Washington D.C.
For now, Santiago donned no technologically superlative armor. Instead, a light, Kevlar-based attire hugged his perfectly sculpted frame. Held by his left hand, his spear, Venenoso. An aesthetic bronze snake coiled along the front end of the spear's shaft, ending at the bottom of Venenoso's spearhead. A tassel of python skin resting inches below the unblemished spearhead. With cubic boron nitride-dispersed edges and tip, subsequently strengthened by the subatomic effects of quantum shielding, Venenoso could pierce through nearly anything, it's true lethality however, lied in it's highly potent, proteolytic venom. Standing in the occupied streets of Washington D.C., the Black Viper's cerulean eyes surveyed his encompassment, there was a surplus of Decimus' armored soldiers. Immediately, the sheer austerity of the situation struck the Spaniard, and motivated him to halt Decimus' unwarranted occupation.
@la_espada: As Decimus hovered above the nation's capital, he noticed a familiar figure standing in the streets. He was not surprised to see the man he had conversed with prior to the invasion. He was an intelligent one, yes, though though Decimus doubted he would come to help. He was too independent, too prideful accept such aid, and from a stranger no less. His body language, his very stance, it suggested conflict. He was here to try to stop him, no doubt. A true pity.
He held in his hands a spear, though it was probably no regular weapon. Decimus would keep his distance. His soldiers had been ordered to surround the area, yet remain out of the way for now. His was not an opponent to be underestimated. He approached through the air, his helmet peeling back across his head and down to his neck. Remaining in the air above the intruder, he called out to to him.
"Mister Porthos," he said, his armor translating his words, "I must say that I am...disappointed. We could have been allies. Friends, even. We could have changed the world together. We still can. I'll give you one more chance to avoid conflict. One more chance to avoid the pain, the suffering. I am merciful, Mister Porthos. I wish to do this without bloodshed. If you think me evil, do not. After all, is a parent evil when he disciplines his child? I think not, Mister Porthos. I think not."
He extended a metallic hand, his amplified voice ringing around the streets.
"I will give you one more chance. Join me, and together we can bring peace to this world. Join me, and we can bring to it...salvation."
Deep Purple's Highway Star. Classic rock at its finest.
Chugging along at supersonic speeds, Ricky "the Great Dane" Dufresne arrived in Washington DC from his apartment in San Betral, California, in approximately thirty-five seconds. He smiled as he clicked the stopwatch into its off timer, meeting a new personal record as he stopped running, leaving him stranded in an abandoned intersection. Seeing that nobody was around, he did a little improvisational celebration dance to the combined guitar-keyboard solo as provided by Jon Lord, Roger Glover, and Ritchie Blackmore, throwing in a bit of air guitar for good measure.
"Oh wait,"
He finally noticed the Romans encroaching upon his position, their weapons held down in an intrigued notion of just how this superhuman managed to get past their forward scanners along with the confusing ritual he performed in the middle of the street. He put his hands up in a traditional surrender motif, Ian Gillan starting to sing When a Blind Man Cries in his earbuds.
"Hehe, okay, I don't want any trouble,"
The Romans raised their firearms, intent on frying Ricky to a crisp. He couldn't fight these trained killing machines. The best he had was some boxing in high school. He wasn't even the champion, but he tried. Damn it, did he try. He had the fastest jabs in the class, obviously, but lacked the raw power to knock out his opponents. He couldn't dent the warriors that swarmed him now.
So he ran.
He ran and kept running until he found someone else that didn't wear full battle armor. However, there was a problem: he was standing next to someone who did.
He turned sharply, the only indication of him being there a brief and fierce breeze, cutting like razor wire through the uneasy stalemate. There would be a "Sorry!" catching up about half a second later, but Ricky would be gone. So far gone. He kept running, feeling the laser trackers chasing him. They were automatic and precise to a surgical point. He could see them moving around in front of him, light particles manipulated to a degree similar to a monomolecular chainsaw.
He ducked and dove through the obstacle course of hair-thin beams, each one frozen in time for him and yet still dangerous enough to hack off a limb at a breath's notice. The Romans figured that if they could not catch the speedster, they could blast in front of him. The lasers sent out a pulse. Ricky heard it like a heartbeat, and could see the indefinite plasmoid bursts worming their way down from the rooftops. Each one popped at his heels, scorching the soles of his boots, but never fully grazing him.
It was invigorating.
This must have been what Muhammad Ali felt like, slipping and sliding past every punch thrown his way.
Ricky felt elated, and his chest thumped madly, but in a good way. He didn't want it to stop.
Just keep running, and it will all make sense, just keep running, and you can jump over every fence...
Ricky didn't expect the guy to move, or be conscious enough for the message to reach him before he slammed into his torso. He didn't really know why he bothered, he ran faster than sound just by walking to the bathroom in the morning. The message would hit the man's eardrums just as Ricky would grind to a halt just inches from his face, leaving about ten yards of concrete burned to a crisp behind his vibrating feet.
"Hi, my name is Split Second!"
He looked into the man's face, scrunching his brow in a worried fashion before placing his hand on his shoulder.
"We need to get moving."
And then, the Romans burst out of the horizon, a swarm numbering in the hundreds, accumulated through Ricky's marathon through the city and all gunning for not only the Vermillion Vision of Velocity, but also his new friend.
Playfully twirling his artistically festooned spear in a smooth, circular motion with a character of nonchalance guiding his left wrist's fluid movements, the Black Viper met Decimus' expected ingress and subsequent proclamations with a characteristic smile of dismissive hubris. His enigmatic, sapphire eyes gleaming with unwavering confidence and a steely resolve as they met the Roman Emperor's. "Forty four..", Santiago indifferently uttered just above a whisper as Decimus spoke and spoke, "Oh bueno.. ninety eight", a his smile transitioning into a smirk of sportive cockiness, "One hundred and twenty seven", the Madrid Viper paused, a relaxed chuckle escaping his superlatively chiseled frame, his left hand still twirling his spear.
"Don't mind me, nino. Tis just that I hear these cliche speeches so wearily often that I've developed a game for every time I hear certain lines. 'I am merciful', 'Is a parent evil when he disciplines his child'", coolly shaking his head as he repeated his impending adversary's egotistical attempts at reasoning with deriding ridicule. "Heh.. please", another taciturn, mild chuckle escaping him, "You're no savior, nino. All I see is a psychopathologically driven, self-interested Roman Emperor who conquers under false messianic pretenses. Which if you think about, despite your... stellar metal shell, is identical to the bloodthirsty Roman Emperors of history". Casting a quick, insouciant glance at Decimus' extended hand, Santiago subtly tilted his head to the side, the corners of his lips haughtily edging upwards as both eyes met the vaunted emperor's.
"So, are you finished?", he rhetorically inquired, "Good". Halting his spear's twirling, taking note of a sharp gelid breeze that cut through the air like a blade, the residual hallmark of a passing speedster. As per his spear-fighting style's demands that he seize the initiative and not wait to be attacked, the Black Viper would attack, intent on forcing his adversary into a defensively reactive position from which they will gradually begin reacting incorrectly as they are repeatedly bombarded. Superhumanly strong, incredibly fast, and a highly technical combatant, Santiago's confidence never wavered during bouts. And so he begun, replicating strikes one would perform with a sword in place of a spear. Sliding his forward hand towards the front tip of the shaft while pulling to the rear with his rear hand, Santiago maintains a firm hold with his forward hand as he slides the spear's shaft through his rear hand.
Facilitating an ensued swinging motion in an upward arc, Venenoso's quantum-shielded cubic boron nitride-dispersed edges enabling the spearhead to slash and cut through virtually any physical material, the spear's left edge viciously targeting the vulnerable right armpit of the conquering emperor, intent on graphically lacerating Decimus' flesh as Santiago takes a step forward, the power of his body's weight aggrandizing the potency of the executed strike. Capitalizing on Decimus' potential distraction with his incipient attack, the Black Viper acrobatically vaults himself into the air, compensating for the lack of hand support in his aerial cartwheel by employing leg momentum during his body's airborne inversion. Dexterously touching the ground with his lead foot and subsequently his rear foot, landing behind Emperor Decimus, facing the monarch's exposed but armored hide, Santiago proceeds, targeting an opportune area, the back of Decimus' right knee, a joint.
For his following attack, the Black Viper would rely on the king of all spear strikes, the equivalent to boxing's jab, the thrust. Prized as the greatest of attacks possible with the spear, it delivers the full force and weight of a blow into a very small area. In this case, countless tons of superhuman power into the back of Decimus' right knee, an area left lightly armored for articulated joint movement. In essence, the thrust squeezes all the PSI of one's attack into a sharpened point. Holding the spear with his front hand to balance the weapon while his back hand controls and guides it towards the back of the emperor's right knee, rotating the spear's head for maximum accuracy and precision as he attacks a vulnerable area not spongy enough to absorb the majority of the impact's force. And while intent on impairing his opponent's movement by targeting the vulnerable back of his joint with penetration, Venenoso's true potency was veiled.
Within it's spearhead, Venenoso contains hundreds of micro-capsules of viperid venoms. Backed by his superhuman strength and impeccable technique, his spear, if successful in it's strikes, with it's highly aggrandized properties, would cut and pierce into Decimus' flesh. From these potential wounds, the viperid venoms would emerge, trespassing into his adversary's body, it's proteases (protein-degrading enzymes) would seek to induce strong swelling, necrosis, torturous pain, and blood clotting disruption in the possibly wounded armpit and joint areas while gradually inducing damage to Decimus' cardiovascular system.
Military vehicles were positioned around the capital, reinforced with numerous Stark armaments. Helicopters flew around the area guns waiting for a kill sign. Various bases and naval vessels awaited order to release jets drones and air strikes. Trusting in the First Daughter, child of the missing President Anthony Stark, Natasha was left as one of the central spear heads of the government of the United States. A holographic monitor rests before her vermillion and azure eyes. "Divide and conquer don't launch an attack however unless I say so or your attacked." Force Division Nine members were leading heavily armed soldiers each of the squads consisted of five and went from Alpha to Omega2 a total of forty eight squads. Using Natasha's ability to teleport she positioned the high tech troops around the city in strategic positions.
"To those of our beloved nation, I simply say this." The woman remark aimed at the only camera of the news reporter allowed to be with Natasha and the military commanders at the Pentagon. "We've a president missing, watched the crucifixion of our Vice President. Say what you will about those who've led this nation or will. But please don't let this be the day that diplomacy and freedom die. Particularly not to the rise of an empire. One man should not govern all men."
With that a violet rift manifested behind the vixen. She stepped back to reemerge where a battle was taking place. Santiago, a perfect time to build bridges over the chasms her father had forged. Nothing aided in creating unity like fighting back to back. Already playing for the throne aligning with Avalon and Eden could place her even closer to her victorious agenda. First however she had to help insure her nation didn't fall however.
Reaching out with her mind the little Stark would attempt to place a force field around the ligaments of her armored foe. Seeking to lock his body in it's present position. If she could do this then Santiago's strikes would have a even better chance of striking. Augmented with violet lightning there was also the chance of stunning the emperor or short circuiting his mechanical features.
"Really ,of all the days that I was going to have some time by myself this happens."Pyrrhus Hawkins sat in the cockpit of the BlueHawk his personal star ship.The reason behind this comment was the situation going in D.C. .Where a Neo Roman group of sorts doing some damage in the city.He could help out and intervene but it seemed that this was already taken care by some people there.The reason that he could know that stuff that he knew about the situation was because of the hi tech that was in the BlueHawk that let him hear radio transmission , internet post , and so on.
Then again....people are in trouble and he should at least protect them and not the fight .The VoidHawk scratch the back of his head with his left hand in frustration ."You know what I going to sit here and wait if they need help then I go but I'm not going to fly there." The last time he try and help out someone like this , he ended getting in more trouble and not enough help at all.He turned on the ship and made sure that.He was going into stand by mode to getting ready to fly closer to the city to makes make sure he didn't have to walk 50 miles or so.
Decimus had been training to survive battle from the first day he had learned to walk. Learning from both virtual reality exercises and real-life excursions into the untamed zones, he had prepared for nearly every type of fight. He was conditioned to expect everything.
He did not expect this.
The laurel wreath upon his head telepathically connected his mind to his armor. He could react as fast as it, and it would respond at the speed of thought. Be that as it may, Decmius was only human. An incredible human, trained, experienced, wearing the finest armor of the entire legion, but still human.
At the same time, the armor's occult defense systems alerted him of an attack if a magical nature upon his person. Magicians. Damn them to Tartarus for what they had done in Rome. Now would be an opportune time to vent some frustration upon whatever mystic being presumed to attack him. The armor would either negate or reduce the effects of any such magical attack upon his person.
The visor slid back down onto his face as soon as the former attack was detected by the body language reader. Adrenaline coursed through the Emperor's veins as his opponent drew closer. He had barely any time to activate his boots and spring backwards. The spear, clearly altered to cut through even the strongest of materials, sliced through the first six layers of the Praetorian Armor, scratching the seventh and missing the Emperor's skin by inches. All of this happened at incredible speeds, too fast for the untrained eye to follow. As the boots propelled him into a backflip that landed him upon the top of a parked semi-truck, he mocked the Spaniard.
"You attack me with a stick. How extraordinarily clever. I expected more from you, Mister Porthos." Though he was aware of how close to death he had come, the Emperor maintained a calm, arrogant veneer. His armor was already reconstructing itself, though the gash across his chest was an impressive one. He turned to the newcomer.
"As for you...I do not think we have formally met. Allow me to...introduce myself."
At this point, several things happened at once. Decimus, like many other emperors before him, had trained in the Roman technique of Battlemind. It was a simple concept. Decimus contained his adrenaline and anger within a "vessel", as his mentors called it. Then he simply directed this vessel to become focus. Single-minded, red-hot determination that would allow him to perform several tasks at once, all with his full attention. The armor helped, as it responded to his very thoughts, removing the need for nerves to send their impulses. The result was a series of attacks that took no more than a second to carry out.
The first of these attacks was to activate the Madness of Bacchus, a potent sonic weapon that would essentially release high frequency soundwaves that could range in effects from a short stun to making one's eardrum implode. Directing the waves at his enemies on the higher settings should be crippling, to say the very least.
The second task was to launch a volley of missiles from his shoulder pads at Mister Porthos. Highly advanced Roman technology that was designed to chase speedsters, they should experience little trouble with this being, even as impressive as he was. They had locked on to his signature, and would pursue him until he was annihilated.
The third task was to use his jet boots to launch himself at the young female. He made his hand flat, and would swing his arm so as to deliver a vicious backhand. The effects of being struck by the hand of a Roman moving at these speeds would be...extremely painful. For them.
All of these attacks took about 2 seconds together to carry out. This was a battlesuit that was designed to end entire wars without support. Wearing it, Decimus was a juggernaut. The end would be swift today.
Characteristically, Santiago met Decimus' succinct taunts with an instinctively curled smirk of hubristic pizzazz, "Twenty eight", the Madrid Viper coolly ridiculed, resuming his self-developed game of numbering his adversary's verbally spouted cliches. Though his initial upward slash had encountered moderate success, his secondary follow-up proved a fruitless endeavor it seemed. Undeterred and with his resolve unshaken, Santiago, as if cockily dismissing the supposed potency and combat prowess of the celebrated emperor, tersely seized the moment to cast an acknowledging wink of galvanizing charm in the arriving Natasha's direction, taciturnly commending her for her attempted assistance with a civil inclination of the head.
In his arrogant immersion however, the Black Viper found himself subjected to an ensued sonic assault. Nearly relinquishing his left hand's hold over his stylized spear's shaft, the Spaniard dropped to a single knee, his free hand desperately clutching his head as an expression of evident agony overtook his august features. And soon, his eardrums, as superhumanly durable as they were, could endure no longer, and in the face of the bombarding shock-waves, erupted. Without his sense of hearing, Santiago possessed no equilibrium, and without his equilibrium, the acrobatic components of his spear-fighting style would be of no use to him. "Not bad, nino", he thought, oddly, a defiant, toothy grin forming as blood streamed from his ears. His hyper-regenerative abilities had commenced, readily reconstructing the damaged tissue and gradually returning his sense of hearing to him.
Narrowly in time for the Madridista's following defensive maneuver. The volley of missiles were fast, alarmingly so. And against any other adversary, perhaps there would be no discernible defense. However, genetically blessed with a 'Quantum Mind', Santiago was a different breed of the evolutionary advanced hominid. His nervous system, an entangled array of superconducting photons (quantum particles), his thoughts taking the form of overtly complex mathematical expressions and incomprehensible quantum patterns instantaneously transmitted across his mind as qubits. There was no delay in his thoughts. No delay in his reactions. And whereas the ordinary human brain, it's supposed speed of thought could not even exceed the rapidity of a bullet, Santiago's knew no limit, no temporal delay. And so, he reacted accordingly.
By employing a combination of dexterous footwork and fluid athleticism, he weaved and bobbed past the targeting missiles, exploiting his superior speed by beguiling the missiles into mistiming and clashing with one another, allowing him to emerge from the ordeal with only mildly sustained burn wounds. It was then that he attacked. He had yet to use his array of armors or his more potent forms of weaponry, there was no apparent need, yet. Instead, Santiago relied on one of his most lethal skill-sets, blood-bending. Decimus was clad in a powerful suit of armor, yet beneath the thick metallic exoskeleton, the Black Viper knew with a certainty, lied a man. No superman of any kind. Just a man. And as all men do, Decimus bled.
It was this blood that Santiago now targeted. By using his expertly cultivated blood-bending mastery, the Spaniard sought to repeatedly disrupt the blood supply to his adversary's brain and heart, with the objective of causing an unending series of violent strokes, hopefully mitigating the intended strike for Natasha, and dramatically impairing the armored monarch's performance in the ensued bout. Santiago however, would not stop. Allowing his body time to fully recuperate from the previous sonic assault, he continued his blood-bending attempts with a more vicious follow-up. By seizing control of Decimus' bodily fluids, he would attempt to freeze them and immediately reconstruct the potentially frozen mass of blood in his adversary's blood vessels into explosively protruding spikes that would graphically pierce into his opponent's internal organs and vehemently spike through his flesh, emerging from within. The Black Viper would not stop, not until there was either the emperor's retreat, or the emperor's death.
The Esoteric Assassin had lived through many ages. Seen many wars, shed much blood, and indulged in exotic worlds. In his journeys, one thing, a single, defiant characteristic perpetually stood tall. An idea, if you may. Tyrants. One man, thinking himself better than all. Thinking himself so great, in fact, that he alone could rule, a common trait throughout humanity, no matter the reality. "Not today," Tempest thought to himself, having fought tyrants veiling their desire to rule the masses behind of altruistic means innumerable times.
Instantly appearing behind of Decimus as Espada ruthlessly enacted his bloodbending horror, the Grand Assassin darted forwards, dexterous footwork carrying him from side to side, outrunning sound itself, as a single, sleek blade popped out from an elusive wrist contraption, and he jumped. Carried by his colossal momentum, hoping the man was distracted, and with perfect timing, attempting to his dig his blade straight into the top of the man’s spine.
@la_espada: Decimus was about to strike the female newcomer when a rather curious feeling seized his innards. It was not by any means a comfortable feeling. In fact, it was excruciatingly painful. A wave of nausea swept his body, his senses diluted by whatever new attack assaulted him. His very blood was fighting against him. Ordering his armor to reroute his pain centers, he would no longer be mentally hampered by the devastation being wreaked upon his internal organs. At least, for a moment. Ideally his armor would lessen the effect of whatever unholy power was assaulting him. The anti-occult functions of his armor were working at maximum capacity. Either it wasn't enough, or this attack was not entirely magical in nature. Blood burst from his mouth. He fell to his knees clutching his stomach. He had only minutes, perhaps less, before he would die of...hemocide? There was no time for thought. Only action.
Extending his gauntleted hand, Decimus played his ace. The Fires of Vulcan. Not true fire- rather, an intense particle field that would completely destroy anything in it's path by targeting the very atoms of its victim. An entire wave of these particles burst forth at extraordinary speeds. Perhaps the most destructive weapon in his arsenal, the purging "fires" would end this meddler once and for all. Where there was street before, there was only slag. Structures crumbled within moments as the wave moved forth.
He lost sight in one of his eyes. Fighting he urge to vomit, he grasped his armored frame.
"No more of you," he gasped as the lethal wave of devastation advanced.
He heard the message last. First, the stench of burning concrete stung his nostrils. Next, the light caused by several feet of molten tarmac hit his eye. Then he found himself face to face with a young hero, his mask unable to conceal the mixture of excitement and fear in his eyes. Finally, the hero's warning caught up with him.
"Hi, my name is Split Second!"
It was an appropriate name, and a fairly exuberant costume. Guy found himself reminded of days gone by, of his early days as the Marvel of Manhattan. Life was a little more straight-forward back then. Fight the bad guys, save the day, get the girl. Now it was more difficult to find the motivation. He got the girl, then lost her; he had saved the day on countless occasions, yet there was always more evil waiting around the corner, always people needing his help; and, after spending much of his life fighting those who he labelled as evil, Guy found himself falling into that category in the eyes of the public. This scarlet speedster was still young, still had a twinkle of hope in his eye. It made the elder hero feel a little sick.
"We need to get moving." Split Second said nervously, as the alien legion gathered around them.
"No," the man croaked, his voice hoarse from lack of use. Yet there was a power behind it, an underlying strength that could be heard through the cracks. "No more running."
The invaders trained their weapons on the impromptu duo, barking instructions at them to surrender or suffer the consequences. Guy merely glared in reply, hands still in his coat pocket. Slowly, he took two steps towards the apparent leader of this particular squadron, intimidating him into silence.
"This is your final chance to surrender," Geller's voice boomed as he used the legion's threats against them. "Or my friend and I will have to unleash the might of planet Earth." He wasn't entirely sure how powerful his new companion was, but hopefully he would be some use in the fight that was obviously coming.
With a thought, the commander ordered a group of eight soldiers to surround the pair, which they did with incredible speed using their repulsor technology. Their efforts were particularly focused on Guy, aiming their spears at him in an attempt to force him to give in. Instead, he merely smiled, quite grateful that they had chosen not to surrender. "Get ready, kid. The fun starts here." The former Brigadier raised one of his mighty arms and, rotating with great speed, used it to tear through the extended weapons of his enemies. Their spears fell to the ground, useless, and they raised their shields instinctively. Grabbing the nearest soldier by the head, Guy used the grunt as a club and slammed him into his comrades. By this point, the countless remaining soldiers were taking up their positions. Some formed a circular perimeter around the two heroes on the ground, shields acting as a barrier. Others took up a position behind them, ready to attack if need by, while the others took to the skies and formed a dome of bodies, aiming their weapons at the trapped defenders.
"Look son, I don't know what kind of power you're packing, but if all you've got is speed, I'm gonna need you to use that," Guy muttered to the speedster as they stood back to back, confident in his own ability to survive the encounter, but unsure about his companion. "Keep moving, draw their fire, turn their weapons against them if you can. Whatever you do, don't stop moving."
After those words, he was gone. The fusion-fuelled fable was not as quick as the vermilion vision, but his speed was still fairly impressive, particularly in the air. His first move was to rocket directly up into the air, driving his fist into the gut of the man forming the top of the improvised dome. From there, he used the moment he had before the rest of the legion realised he had started fighting them to take out several other soldiers, hovering in the position previously occupied by his first target he began to spin, extending one leg and allowing it to crash into the heads of the warriors in the circle immediately below. His actions were finally noticed as the legion looked up to see their men falling out of the sky, some of them spiralling out of control as they lost control of their flight suits. Repulsor bolts were fired his way and spears clattered against his body, but after so many years he was almost indestructible, and the attacks merely bounced off his skin as he easily took down yet more warriors.
The enemy needed a new tactic.
As Guy grabbed a handful of soldiers and pulled them down to Earth before hurling them into the dirt, they found that strategy. They couldn't defeat the one-man-army without the advanced weapons and technology of their leader, but they could try to contain the threat. While the hero was near the ground the soldiers moved as one unit, thanks to their telepathic link, and closed in on him with their shields directed inwards. With a great clashing of bodies, Geller was driven into the ground by the force of an entire squadron of fighters pushing him down, using their repulsors to apply extra force while their shields provided the barrier between their bodies and his fists. His yells of frustration indicated that, for now, the behemoth was contained. Soon, his wordless roars developed into a specific sound, a call for help from his new partner.
The soldiers were drawing in closer. The big lug next to Ricky started going crazy, using one Roman as a battering ram while the others were just kindling.
2...
The rest of the formation started to make their sphere around the two. The initial squad, if anything, had been bait. They completely encircled them in no time at all, spearheads gleaming with fatal plasma edging.
1...
A den of archers above them pulled back their bowstrings, armed and ready with darts fashioned to explode on contact. Ricky could hear the faint heartbeat of a timer within these mechanisms. That, and they glowed like bombs.
And - go!
Roaring out of the starting gate, Ricky slid under the shields like he was stealing home at the World Series, getting back up immediately after. The backs of the Romans were exposed, and he began disconnecting their helmets from their neck-plates before turning their helmets around, blinding them suddenly and unexpectedly, even going so far as to play the bongos on a few of them. Improvised drum solos were always the best, anyway. Once the soldiers outside of the ones his acquaintance had begun mauling were preoccupied with turning their headgear back around, Ricky focused on the bowmen. They were in the process of releasing their arrows, and they had barely soared out of the resonations of the bowstrings.
With a sleight of hand trick he learned from the legendary Penn and Teller, he stole every last dart out of hand, air, and quiver, deactivating the explosives within before breaking each and every one in half. This took about a sixteenth of a second, and he had no time to spare.
This was about the time that the behemoth burst out of the improvised hemisphere of hierarchical hypocrisy. The Romans started raining down in droves, bodies flying in all directions only to catch in midair or recover in perfect three-point stances. This transaction, however, did not go unnoticed by the Quintessential Quickster, his feet already moving through Listen, Learn, Read On. Deep Purple kept playing at a regular pace within his earbuds, strangely, as if that sound had been trapped inside his head despite him moving faster than the sensation. This suited him perfectly.
Those Romans who managed to recover, he pinpointed just as the electronic impulses in each of their brains sent the signal to counterattack. As the nerves began to cooperate, they were already bound in a muscular sense by their own handcuffs, which were meant to bring in prisoners for executions and other gristly ordeals. The Roman line became a chain, locked from wrist to ankle while their weapons were taken away in a flash. Ricky taunted them with the keys, which he threw into the sewer, before sprinting off again, breaking the sound barrier instantaneously and knocking them all to the ground. Any attempt at escaping would result in a very awkward and extremely embarrassing flight pattern.
This lasted about one second, after which Ricky began to realize that his friend needed some help.
A mountain of mechanized muscle from an alternate dimension crashed down on top of the seemingly invulnerable bruiser, pinning him in place. Thinking, well, quickly, Ricky moved at slightly under the speed of sound, screaming "COVER YOUR EARS!" just before increasing his velocity, creating another sonic boom, and continuing this pattern all around the hill of humanity, flaking off layers of Roman soldiers with the blasts of compressed air until either they were removed completely or his friend had enough leverage to get out himself.
By the end of the ordeal, he would return to the man's side with a sly little grin on his face.
Her ability to construct force fields were a natural mutational ability for the first daughter. They hailed from a woman however who's abilities hailed from mystical means in short allowing the magical resistance in the emperor's armor to resist the efforts she'd made. Daughter of Anthony Stark naturally she possessed a variety of technological innovation. One such thing being the glasses on her head. Natasha was to vain to wear helmets and visors if she could help it. But equivalent technology was worked into the stylistic piece of clothing. They granted greater hearing and sight and the resistance to such attacks. Resting angled upwards this tech shielded her from the sonic assault. Then came the retaliation meant to actually best her. She'd readied to raise her weapon to block before she could however her target halted.
Flipping her glasses over her eyes she brought up vitals. The activity in his veins was brutal to watch and silently the twisted diplomat thought it beautiful. Though she wasn't sure how she felt about having already encountered two blood benders. They were both for the time on her side but posed a very real risk should her own agendas cross them. For now however she saw the parts of the brain that managed pain being shut down. And a powerful armament being readied Natasha chose to repay the favor.
There was no redirecting a particle weapon unless someone had control over the particles and that was unlikely. It was blindingly fast hard to dodge hard to evade or block. Natasha knew that she couldn't outrun or side step such a move herself. But she had something better teleportation through portals. Soon as she saw the glow she flung a rift in front of the weapon just as it was fired. Through the portal one would see the back of the roman Titan. The powerful weapon would pass through the rift aimed to reappear right behind the roman.
"That was a poor introduction sir. My name is Natasha Stark and you've a better chance leveling my home then ruling it." She rebuked readying herself should future attacks be made.
"Alright Sara you've been gone for far to long. Enough saving the galaxy time to go home." The teen remarked to herself before flying back to her home world of Earth. She arrived just in time for the nine o'clock news to watch on the old base she still called home. She'd no idea if a Amazing Angel still used the base, she was pretty sold on the disbandment of her team however. While watching the news she got a crash course on the happenings. One she learned she could in fact intervene in.
Dressed in classic navy blue ruby red and gold she flew waiting until the mighty ship came into view. A roman vessel of futuristic brilliance. It's shadow blacked part of the DC area. She decided to target this marvel first as her way of making grand entry.
She darted towards the structure at re entry speeds. Sixteen thousand five hundred miles per hour. The sonic boom was deft inning. A superheated ionized trail followed her with a blazing vermillion trail. Moving at such speeds also meant she packed punches of a hundred and sixty five thousand tons. Imagine if two thirds of say the Empire State Building was being slammed into an object at the speeds of the meteor that supposedly killed the dinosaurs. It's easy to assume this kind of force would rip through most things. It was with this high velocity and strength that the blond targeted the central point of the enemy.
They had numbers and tech, but if she could destroy that base both advantages would be critically undermined.
@imperator_imperatorum: The Scorpion had the entire city surrounded, not by her forces but with her own body. Insects hovered at eye level while lizards scrambled through the streets. Nucleus flew far overhead, zipping around the entire city while the pack stomped across the streets of DC, facing the Roman troops directly, hundreds of transhumans at their back.
A small skink crawled up onto Number One's shoulder. "Report." It growled in a voice deeper than hell and older than the origins of the Legionaries they fought. "The Romans are prepared to fight, but don't appear to want to. We'll hopefully be able to surprise them with our power." "Good. Kill them and join me in taking down Decimus. When Tyrant arrives, tell him to join Nucleus in finding their portal and preventing reinforcements from arriving."
With that the lizard left, charging towards the white house with hundreds of fellow reptiles and insects. Decimus was in front of the capital, already injured. A dozen flesh-eating moths dove, dropping their cargo. Silver stick bugs clung to the armor of Decimus. Everything smelled like ozone for a split-second before lightning dropped from the sky to blast the damaged emperor before the insects disintegrated from the wave of destruction that consumed them.
Out of range of the destructive blast, the remaining insects gathered into hideous humanoid form, cruel eyes glowing to launch a follow up attack- a concussive blast hopefully powerful enough to pummel the Roman lord into submission.
@fuzionguy: @split_second: Martin knelt upon a tank as marines lead the refuges towards buses lined up in a reserved lot. A grimace stretched across his face as rain poured down. For hours the city had it's tail between it's legs as the invaders posed too much of a threat for normal law enforcement to fight against. Martin wasn't law enforcement, nor was he normal. With the wave of a hand several marines went down the street towards the US Capital Building, The Independent Idealist pounced from the top of the tank and onto the sidewalk, looking back at the remaining law directing citizens to buses before he ran after the marines he grinned slightly as they were moved like cattle. Reaching into a pocket underneath his cost he grabbed an armor piercing .45 and held it by his side as the Romans sent crowds running to whatever could send them as far away as possible from the capital. Considering most politicians in D.C were already sent out it left him, his nanobots, and a squad of special ops marines to accompany him to at least leave a scar on the empire. If the efforts failed there was one more possible thing to delay the invasion, though it would do more harm than good. But hopefully it wasn't needed soon, until it was.
An explosion echoes throughout the streets as six Romans went over buildings and even more Romans in the distance flew back. Martin sprinted out of the protective barrier of soldiers and around a corner leaving the marines to run after him, much slower compared to the former athlete. Stopping a around a corner he saw two figures standing in place as the street was barren, for moments he saw two citizens unaware of the situation until he noticed the bright red costume.
"That explains it! Maybe they could be of use for a while."
The American thought to himself as he put on a politician's smile and pulled his hair back. The marines still a street behind him trying to catch up, while they meant well they wouldn't do a thing to the invaders, after the reports of the UN their guns would do nothing. Approaching the duo he spoke as calmly yet confidently as possible. "You two, I need you and your abilities to keep D.C safe. Our military is trying all they can to fend back the invaders but we need capes. And judging by what you just did I'm guessing you are."
As the rift appeared in front of his weapon, Decimus immediately sensed a similar one appearing behind him. Rolling out of the way of the deadly particles, he reactivated the Flames, this time moving closer to the interloper and avoiding any portals that may appear near him. This was a seperate technique called the speedblitz. It is actually quite basic, but very effective. By simply moving too fast to be reacted to, he could land as many hits as he wanted. The Flames coming from his gloved fists themselves, anything he hit would also face extremely deadly molecular decomposition. This one had to be dealt with, and fast.
At the same time, his mechanisms detected other superhumans entering the city. They were already causing a good amount of damage to his ranks. They would need something to keep them better occupied.
There was a spaceship of sorts hovering outside the DC area. It wasn't causing any trouble, so the Legionnaires would leave it alone for now. But still, interesting.
At some point Decimus became aware of the fact that someone had tried to stab him in the back. Also interesting.
A flying being leaving a magnificent trail collided with the force of a meteor against the side of the Embassy. The sonic boom was deafening to any non-protected people in the area. As she collided with the side, the advanced shields of the Embassy came online. By redirecting the force used to hit the shield back to its source, she would most likely be flung far away.That being was probably in a great deal of pain right now...
At the same time, a great deal of insects had latched onto his armor. They would provide little threat for now-his armor was completely sealed from the outside. Then, however, a large bolt of lightning struck his back. The pain, while excruciating, was temporary, and a small bit of his armor was scorched black. Then, however, a small message blinked on the HUD: Armor power reserves charged to 200%. That was unexpected. This would have to be investigated later.
In the meantime, the small army of superhumans assaulting him would meet a new, stronger threat.
"Send in the Praetorian Guard."
The Praetorian Guardsmen were far more effective than any other soldiers in the Legion. Handpicked to accompany the Emperor himself, and each wearing armor on his level, they would be more than a match for any foe in a group. They should be far more than enough to occupy any single superbeing that dared to attack him in the city.
Continuing his blitz of the witch, he also continued to coordinate his forces. They would engage directly now-any battle they were in, he would oversee personally.
With the expected ingress of widespread assistance from the valorous metahuman community, the mercurial Madridista sought to capitalize on the circumstantially rewarded minutes of freedom and emancipation from the ensued bout to facilitate his physical regeneration. Still harboring no intention of adorning either one of his technologically unparalleled armor-sets or wielding his energy-directed or plasma-based weaponry, Santiago instead opted to preserve his resources and wielded only Venenoso, his prized, stylized spear. Blessed with a 'Quantum Mind' and a crude perception of that which constitutes the quantum realm, the approaching wave of threatening particles that dared eradicate his being did not escape his sensory detection.
The attack itself was almost immeasurably potent. If not for his regeneration, only death would await an unprepared Santiago. Though thankfully, an attack that halts at the atomic level cannot permanently dispose of him. No, not even one of the subatomic degree. For as long as a solitary elementary particle of his being remains, he will gradually regenerate, and return. But the battle would not regress into a vaunted showcase of his regenerative abilities. It would be an onslaught of his adversaries brought forth by his unparalleled martial prowess and lethality. Mentally readied to intercept Decimus' attack, the Black Viper speedily thrust his right palm forward, facing it towards the Roman Emperor as the graviphoton bracelet on his wrist activated. A leviathan blast of the exotic particles stampeded forward, the repulsive, anti-gravity force of the graviphoton (a superpartner of the graviton) first suspended the field's antagonistic particles in midair.
With the Earth's gravitational pull on them largely stripped, the repulsive, juggernaut-like force of the graviphoton blast bombarded the field, exponentially lessening the potential damage the Spaniard had been destined to sustain. The resulting kinetic eruption from the collision however, flung the hubristic Viper across the concrete pavement and crashing into a neighboring building. Metallic infrastructure violently tearing through his flesh and cracking bones as he is blasted past wall after wall after wall, until such time that his retained mental clarity enabled his inevitable acrobatic re-positioning. Severely injured, and having been bullied several blocks away from the battle, Santiago, confident in his colleagues' abilities, allowed them to do battle against the emperor while he in the meantime, opts to regenerate and recuperate, so that he may return with the most powerful and merciless blood-bending assault to be detailed in recorded history.
After a muffled warning to cover his ears wriggled through the mass of bodies, Guy found the weight on his shoulders lifted considerably. He began to feel an intense wind as gaps in the mountain of men started to appear, until finally he flung his arms outwards with great force, propelling the legion outwards at high velocity. Many of them soared a considerable distance, some were sent barrelling into buildings, taking large chunks out of the structures as they did so.
Using the momentary freedom to his advantage, he leapt into the air, as he channelled his boundless energy into speed. Everything around him appeared to slow down as his entire body moved faster and faster, until the Romans soaring through the air appeared to freeze in place. Drawing the fusion energy that gave him power to the surface, his skin began to burn with his signature violet hue, light beginning to flood out of his sleeves. The hulking hero cast his gaze around and focused on the men all around him, before unleashing his power.
Fusion energy burst forth out of his fingertips, as Guy pointed at each of his targets individually, channelling the energy of a raging star towards each of them. His fiery beams consumed the enemy soldiers, with the intention of disabling their armour through sheer heat and concussive force. It was inevitable that some of them would be more seriously affected, suffering burns from the intense fire around them as they were cooked in their shells, but Geller had learned not to be as lenient with invaders as he would have been with most criminals. This was an invasion, the beginning of a war. Holding back was not an option.
Having dispatched a massive chunk of the invading army within a few minutes, thanks to assistance from Split Second, Guy floated back down to Earth and stood next to his newfound partner. The speedster was looking rather pleased with himself, while the elder hero retained his stone-like expression. They were then approached by a towering giant in a suit, a man that the retired Brigadier recognised as Senator Steel. Likely he would know the story of Giga-Guy, though it was unlikely that the politician would connect that man with the bearded creature standing before him.
"You two, I need you and your abilities to keep D.C safe. Our military is trying all they can to fend back the invaders but we need capes. And judging by what you just did I'm guessing you are."
Neither of the heroes wore a cape, but Guy had a feeling that the senator was asking for their superhero-assistance, rather than wanting to borrow a garment.
"We're doing our best, senator," Geller replied, his voice still fairly hoarse, not at all similar to the voice that people would have heard in his movies. "Though I think it's about time we went for the head."
Before any of them could do anything, however, they found themselves face-to-face with members of the Praetorian Guard. It was immediately obvious that these warriors would not be as easily dispatched as the other, the way they held themselves with such confidence and the clear superiority of their armour and weapons revealed that these were truly dangerous foes. But the guard found themselves facing off against the fairly formidable team of Guy Geller, Split Second and Senator Steel. Guy intended to hold them off for as long as possible, before finally taking the fight to Decimus himself.
Though after the way the hero had demolished much of the emperor's army, the invader would probably bring the fight to him.
Decimus watched in awe as his seemingly unconquerable foe actually managed to redirect the Flames of Vulcan. Though he was thrown backwards into a nearby building, the sensors in the Praetorian Armor detected something...impossible.
He was somehow still alive. The psyche scans did not lie. The Emperor felt something indescribable, something primal, something utterly unknown to him.
He felt fear.
This being...he could not be contained. He could not be pacified. He could not be reasoned with. What...what is he? Where...where was Decimus? What was happening? The blood...HIS blood...had betrayed him. This world had betrayed him. Who else was part of the scheme? His family aboard the Embassy...were they safe? Would the shields hold? Would they be subjected to this blood-controlling torture as well? His blood...it wouldn't stay still. It was killing him. It was solidifying-! It was piercing his lungs-! He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think-! He was at the tipping point now, he was going over the edge-
Focus.
Breathe.
Strategize.
Win.
Decimus arose from the knee he had fallen to. He regained his posture. His blood was back to normal-the armor proved it. Fear is an illusion, created by the weak. There is no fear. Only victory. There is no blood-bender. He has been indisposed for now. There is no fear. Only justice. There is NO fear. And yet...why was his pulse still racing?
He pushed the thought out of his head. Emperors fear no man. But this beast...
Irrelevant. There is a battle to be won, he reminded himself. There is justice to be done. Checking his HUD, he noticed something almost as troubling as the blood-bender.
A nuclear weapon. A biological nuclear weapon. A thinking, walking, talking, flying biological nuclear weapon. It would have to be dealt with. Activating his jet boots, he rose into the sky, rocketing across the city at speeds nearing his maximum. His scanners had pinpointed the threat. A bearded man, currently battling his Legionnaires. They got his order and scattered. A split-second later, he crashed at full force into the man, arms out, will strong.
The hero formerly known as Fuzion was still sizing up his opponents when they suddenly decided to separate, breaking off in totally different directions. Before he had time to question whether this was some sort of peculiar battle formation, he had the wind knocked out of him (or would have, if he needed to breathe) as a man-sized bullet tore into his abdomen and blasted him off his feet. It was immediately clear that he had succeeded in drawing out the Emperor.
Hopefully he wouldn't regret that plan.
American and Roman soared through the air together at high speed, their trajectory causing them to tear through several buildings along the way. These obstacles appeared to phase neither party, however, but Guy found himself pinned against the shoulder of his foe by the sheer speed of their movement. However, Decimus had made the mistake of engaging Geller in close quarters. Whatever the strength of that armour, it was likely that it would be more easily dented than the Extraordinary Earthling's tough exterior. So far in his career, nothing had caused him to draw blood and no-one had bested him in a battle of fists.
Using his awesome strength, the hero drew back his left arm and allowed the elastic energy to build up for a fraction of a moment, before releasing the tension in his metahuman muscles, causing his fist to fire towards the invitingly open target of Decimus' head. The two were wrapped so closely together that, even if he missed the face, it was likely that he would at least make contact with something. He wasn't using his full strength yet, he couldn't be sure of the armour's durability and didn't want to begin the battle by murdering his opponent. His initial punch would be useful in gauging how hard he could hit in future.
Then, using his own ability to fly, Geller propelled himself forwards, giving him that much needed breathing room between himself and Caesar. They were both travelling the same direction, though Guy was now moving slightly faster. Now that he had broken free, the Fusion-Fuelled Fable swiftly ducked under his enemy's torso and shifted into reverse, blasting past Decimus in the other direction. As he did so, the hero attempted to grab the Emperor's leg, in order to drag the invader back down to Earth and hurl him into the dirt. If his attempt failed, he would merely land himself and wait for his opponent to come back towards him. Then, his eyes burning hot with fusion radiation, he would fire a searing blast of heat at the leader, whether he was still in the air or laying in the dust.
As Decimus grappled with the Nuclear Nightmare, his suit's vibrational impact absorbers strained to their maximum. He was being hit harder than he had ever been hit in his life. Dozens of irradiated punches were rained upon his person. They had flown, no, crashed through several buildings, which collapsed soon after. Windows shattered from the force of the punches. The very clouds in the sky were parted from the shockwaves emanating from the two.
Muscles creaked. Nerves strained. There were small, red dots in the corners of the Emperor's vision. His breathing was returning to normal, and his armor was steadily repairing itself, but his mind...he was losing his resolve. Was he doing the right thing? Was he still fighting for what was right? There was no time for diplomacy now, though. As his Fusion-powered enemy grabbed his leg and threw him into the ground, the impact absorber strain skyrocketed. The suit was keeping him alive, but barely. A massive crater surrounded the Emperor as he got to his feet. The Gladius extended from his wrist right as his foe sent beams of nuclear energy from his very eyes. Raising the blade, the energy would ideally be deflected back at his opponent.
This being fought with the strength of a god. A metahuman, somehow altered on a fundamental level. He was fast, having nearly blitzed the Imperial Icon himself, and his will was strong. But not strong enough.
If he succeeded at returning the energy bolts back at his attacker, Decimus would use his jet boots to launch himself into him, blade drawn. It was no ordinary sword; designed to vibrate at extreme speeds, it was sharper than any other on his own world. A mighty stab through the stomach, if not fatal, would surely injure his enemy, and buy Decimus more time to live.
The Scorpion snarled as the emperor rose to meet a different foe. Her air speed wasn't great enough to catch up with him, but she didn't have to rise to join him. She focused on the piece of her consciousness that clung to Nucleus while her eyes tracked her armored foe, charging a lethal blast. "He has taken to the air. Get low and attack their ship from the ground while his forces have their eyes to the sky." Nucleus nodded and veered off to strike the Embassy, charging a War Beam on his way, hopefully avoiding the soldiers guarding it.
Her main body took aim and finally released a concussive eye beam that pushed her back, forcing her to dig her limbs into the pavement. The red streak exploded across the sky, ready to demolish anything in its path, which right now was both the emperor and the hero he battled.
@split_second: @fuzionguy: As Praetorians charged the senator his body became encased in metal as he flung a duo of them into the pavement and bashed another's skull to paste with a fire hydrant. Leaving blood spewing from a mangled cut. The head was strewn across the street, the brain on one side and the jaw on the other. The energy tossing vigilante was already on the Roman's Emperor from the UN. And the speedster had mopped up the area long before.
"T-There's something I need to take care off! I will be right back!"
The Independent Idealist hobbled back to the street corner where he and his squad commandeered a semi-truck left abandoned. It sped down the street into the heart of the storm overcasting D.C.
@imperator_imperatorum: A single cry silenced the warfare, the chaos, the revolution and invasion all for a brief moment. The Great Devourer hovered over Washington DC menacingly. Goliath wanted the Earth to fall to hell, by his hands, this wouldn't do. An empire taking over would lead to one big union uprooting those who oppose them, including any human allies of The Final Predator. One massive ship flew over DC demanding respect and superiority, it would soon be shattered in two. Dropping out of the cloud level the titan slammed into the Earth sending and earthquake through DC sending craters and cracks through the streets, windows into shards, and buildings to rubble. The ship shadowed DC larger than Goliath, though it was just metal, Goliath was power. The ship was vulnerable in many ways to Goliath, impenetrable to the militaries of Earth and most galaxies, but not a cosmic being. Yet a simple destruction of a ship would only encourage them. They needed to be sent away, to know to stay away from Earth. Stepping across the city stepping on invaders and citizens alike until standing in front of the UN; with the graze of his hand he took every flag in front of the United Nations into his hand. Now came the destruction.
Goliath leapt towards the ship somersaulting in a saw motion with his scales as hit as suns. He intended to slice through the ship like butter sending it to the streets below. No matter how the ship was destroyed it's wreckage would be dumped on the moon and the flags would pierce the remnants of the hull. Earth would be protected not by it's men and women, but by it's death.
As the two powerhouses tangled in the air, the early warning system of the Praetorian armor detected an energy beam of immense force coming his way. Reacting at speeds too fast to comprehend, he grabbed his foe and used him as a human (or inhuman) shield against this blast, his sword through his stomach at the same time. The blade, augmented by the molecular-distorting particles of the Flames, should have little trouble finding it's way through this being's seemingly indestructible skin.
Out of the corner of his vision, the Emperor noticed a rather peculiar sight. What appeared to be a large dinosaur was attacking the Embassy. The particle shields held, using the same kinetic energy of the attacks used against it to increase it's power. Watching this reptilian colossus bounce off of the massive field was a rather amusing sight, if a brief one. Should it survive, he ordered a vast squad of soldiers to fly into it at high speeds, and perhaps even carry it away from the battle. Avoiding civilian casualties was still a top priority, and this...thing...would certainly make that difficult.
She'd survived the blitz on her thanks to forcefields and her talent at redirecting attacks through rifts. The attacks made on her were simply being redirected at her opposition. Regretfully her target moved into pursuit of another hero. Natasha recognized the face through zoom of her glasses. A Titan of strength, durability and energy. He'd also made a lot of movies great for drinking games. She had confidence however that the hero could contend with the invader. This propelled Natasha to target the embassy.
The colossal dinosaur like beast did nothing to it. The meteor like force of the blond was noneffctive. Thanks to Saraph's durability the shields redirection had done nothing crucial. She was able at her state to tank meteorite strikes like what she could deal out. Clearly those shields though were going to prove challenging to surpass. Or they would if not for a teleporter being the opposition.
A rift and Natasha was beside the blond. "Try again." With that yet again at the speeds of reentry beyond those of even hypersonic clocking in at speeds over sixteen thousand miles per hour she headed for the vessel. Her strength shy of two hundred thousand tons of force. This time however Natasha created a rift in front of the shields, a barrier helping keep the portal stable to any resistance it met. The rift exited roughly a yard inside the proximity of the ship. In summary a portal that led into the Embasy. The incredibly fast and strong teen likely to begin smashing through the structure. For what could be ready for such a movement?
@natasha_stark: As he grappled violently with his radioactive enemy, a small warning message in the bottom of his HUD alerted the Emperor that someone had attempted to make a portal inside the Embassy. Devoting a small portion of his thought to the communications system of his armor, he issued a non-verbal command.
"Re-direct portal exit. Hmm...center of the planet.
By using the internal scans in order to change the "current" of the field, or whatever it was, he could relocate the exit. Didn't they know that the Embassy may be one of the single most advanced buildings in the Roman dimension? Gaining unauthorized access may as well be impossible.
As the portal (and whoever may be passing through) reappeared approximately 3,959 miles beneath the Earth-at the core- Decimus smiled. How unlike him.
As energy burst forth from his eyes, Guy found himself suddenly blinded as the light was sent bouncing back towards him. His eyelids clamped shut instantly as he bent double, clutching his face with one hand as the rare feeling of pain surged through his corneas. The hero was vulnerable for a moment, and Decimus took good advantage of that with a powerful thrust of his blade into the abdomen. Geller's eyes snapped open as he felt the sword pierce his flesh. He had never felt this sensation before, never before had an enemy succeeded in drawing blood. Only he didn't have blood. Fusion energy powered his entire body, his organs were functionally useless, as he gained life from the power of the sun in his heart.
So, as the blade tore into his stomach, blood did not burst forth. Instead, raw fusion energy arced from the wound, blasting outwards without restraint. The heat was as intense as the heart of a star, instantly turning the ground to ash as the tendrils licked the tarmac and vaporising the air around it. One flame flicked upwards and ignited the retired Brigadier's beard, consuming the hair in moments, his hair being the only part of him vulnerable to such heat. It was inevitable that much of the fire would splatter on the one who had opened the cut to begin with, truly testing the durability of his armour.
Guy felt his strength starting to wane as his life force surged out of the gash in his stomach, sword still wedged in, though held in place by the energy surging around it. It wouldn't kill him, he created enough to replace the lost energy fairly quickly, but the leak would limit his abilities somewhat, particularly if the fight dragged on. Using the proximity of his enemy to his advantage, the titan wrapped one mighty arm around his foe and blasted upwards, both of them grappling in the sky now. Before he could do much more, he felt himself being turned in the air, as Decimus used the hero as a shield against a blast of concussive force, presumably directed rather stupidly at the Emperor. Bracing himself for the blow, Geller was surprised by the force with which the War Beam hit. It's sheer concussive power tore through his street clothing, shredding his large overcoat and baggy underclothes. As his tattered rags fell apart around him, his true form was revealed.
His costume was almost as impenetrable as the rest of his skin, due to years of close exposure to the effects of the radiation. As the civilian guise fell away, Guy was revealed as the hero he once was, the man who had saved Earth on countless occasions before. Yet it was a twisted image. He was not that man anymore, years of self-hatred had twisted him into a creature far more dangerous. With the sword still biting into his flesh and the War Beam tearing into his back, the one once known as Giga-Guy grit his teeth and glared at his enemy with eyes ablaze.
Both combatants were sent spiralling through the air by the blow, as the fusion energy from the cut continued to fly forth erratically. Finally, Guy decided to harness that power. Using his innate ability to manipulate the radiation, he bent the streams into a dome, encasing his foe in a shell of fire and wrapping his powerful arms around him. Essentially, the Emperor was feeling the intense heat of the heart of a star. While distracting his enemy with this surge of power, the fallen hero directed them back towards the ground, propelling them back into the dirt with massive speed. As the duo crashed into the Earth once more they created a rather impressive crater. Then, assuming his enemy had not escaped his grasp, Guy would place once knee atop the Caesar's chestplate and drive his fists repeatedly into his helmet.
No longer a hero, Guy was a warrior, defending his home from an alien force. Mercy was not an option.
@fuzionguy: The Emperor was being brutalized. Atomic fists rained against his skull, his very being rattled with blows from his enemy. And the heat...it was nearly unbearable. Even with his armor's advanced temperature control, sweat lined his brow. It was only matter of time before his systems would begin to malfunction. Even the very asphalt surrounding the two was melting. His eyes blurred over, the heat like that of a miniature star. Blood was filling his helmet. His blood. He could not out-muscle this being. Time to try a different strategy.
Activating the Helm of Pluto, an advanced cloaking device built into his armor, he vanished from sight. Utilizing the quick moment of surprise to slip away from his aggressor, he used the jet boots to fly over to the Constitution Gardens, landing a few meters from the Washington Monument. A marble symbol of freedom, of independence. It stands as the tallest structure in the center of this city, the capital of this country, one of the most powerful nations of this world. 80,000 tons of glory.
Striking the base three times in quick succession, the monument's foundation began to crack. Another strike, this time amplified by the Flames of Vulcan in his armor. Another strike, with a running start beforehand. Another strike, this time having flown into the monument with his boots. As the monument began to tip, he landed and forced his hands into the crack he had just made. The gravitonics in his armor strained. He was pushing himself to his maximum. The jets in his boots were approaching full velocity as he maintained his grip on the bottom of the structure. His resolve never wavered. As it fell, he gave it one last mighty push, aided by his repulsors, sending it through the air directly at his foe's location.
The physical effect would be devastating, at least on the city. The psychological one, however, would be immeasurable.
The Scorpion scattered the moment the Emperor above disapeared. Her sensory fields would pick up any movement happening within them. Failing to pick him up, she still narrowed in on his general location when Washington Monument was downed. As it flew through the air, she colluded into a terrible form like a tremendous lizard made of crawling moths and snakes.
Her eyes burned with murderous intent and she unleashed heat beyond that of the sun from them. A wide berth of land was instantly incinerated, and if the invisible fool still stood there, he would hopefully burn like the very molecules of air around him and melt like the ground below him.
@natasha_stark: @imperator_imperatorum: The ship had an advanced shield surrounding it, the likes of which never seen by the god. There could be a way to ground the ship or take the shield down though it would have to wait. Praetorians charged at the beast making efforts against him, Goliath paid no attention as his scales stayed firm and negated the pressure slamming against them. The ship had no visible ways to destroy it with personal attacks. Looking around the sheild he noticed another human figure making progress to break through the barrier; the Cosmic Conqueror intended to exploit the potential opening if the next tactic wouldn't do put a foothold on the crusaders.
With a swift sling of his hand it enclosed around a half-dozen Praetorians leaving them in darkness. Pulling the fist behind his own head he tossed the Praetorians towards the shield. If his idea was right the armor would let them pass through and slam into the ship. Without slamming into it like a bird hitting a window. That could lead to the destruction of the ship. The Gargantuan God was omnipotent, those who dared to challenge the Son of the Universe were unworthy of life, it would be taken.
From atop an old run down apartment complex near the edge of the city, Theta surveyed the war zone it had just been teleported into. As inconvenient as this new development was, at least Cavalian had maintained enough basic courtesy to drop the mechanical alien a ways away from the center of the fighting. The last thing Theta wanted was to get involved, but unfortunately neutrality seemed like it wouldn't be much of an option. The vantage point provided by the building allowed the machine a clear enough view to see the military forces surrounding the city and the much more advanced military forces occupying it, not to mention the downright enormous vessel hovering above.
However, before Theta had a chance to properly weigh its options and decide a course of action, its decision was made for it. A garbled yell came from behind in what seemed to be an authoritative tone. It was likely a command or a question, but all Theta heard was gibberish. It took the Universal Translator a few moments to adapt to this new language, but the new arrival was only too eager to reiterate his order.
"You are not native of this world, machine. By order of Mighty Rome, I command you to answer. What business have you here?"
Without responding, Theta turned away from the edge of the rooftop, facing the speaker. There were four armed warriors, each of them clad in advanced battle ready combat suits and armed with weapons of equal technological might. They were quite obviously just as foreign as Theta itself, given the stark contrast between the technology of their armaments and that apparent in the city they were occupying. However, before either of them could make any further movements, something crashed into the side of the floating fortress with immense speed. It didn't seem to do anything to damage the invaders' stronghold, but it gave Theta just enough of a distraction to make a move. Energy crackled across the armored surface of the machine as its makeshift electrical weaponry siphoned off excess power from its primary Core.
In the second that the Legionnaires were distracted, Theta was already leaping for the nearest. With both hands crackling with electrical energy, the machine grabbed the first warrior and sent a good hundred thousand volts into his body, effectively immobilizing him. Immediately the other three raised their weapons and prepared to fire, but Theta was already bringing out its favored weapon. As the blade of the sword extended out from the hilt, Theta threw it towards another of its adversaries. The blade stuck in the barrel of his energy rifle as it was near firing, causing the weapon to explode and incapacitate the soldier. As the remaining two opponents fired off their shots, Theta was able to dodge one but was struck full on by the second. Luckily the blast hit square in the chest, one of the most armored parts of the machine, and it succeeded only in blackening the white coloring and sending Theta a few steps backward.
In immediate response Theta fired off a bolt of blue electric energy from its right hand, striking one of its opponents and sending him to the ground. The other soldier made a few more hits, but the light weaponry of the simple legionnaires remained ineffective. The machine began running toward this last enemy and was upon him in seconds. Another electrical discharge sent this one to the ground too. But before Theta had a chance to make another plan of action, the entire building began shaking. The weak foundations began to crack as some enormous reptilian thing began descending from the sky. As the colossal beast crashed into the ground, the entire complex collapsed.
It didn't take long for the machine to climb out of the rubble, but in that short time it seemed as if everything had gone to complete chaos. Flashes of energy shone out time and time again from somewhere deeper within the city. The ground shattered beneath the might of the titanic lizard that had descended from the sky. Sensors were detecting massive power outputs, as if an atomic blast had been focused in a single point. Whoever was fighting, they undoubtedly had an incredible talent for warfare. Meanwhile all the extraterrestrial machine could do was hope it had chosen the right side.
While Moa was still with her parents and living in Japan, her father used to tell her great tales about their family heritage... The story that she could always remember was how her grandfather participated in a battle against a giant lizard who was a god among creatures... This god destroyed galaxies and fed on stars. It's been stated that this god was responsible for many geological events that happened in our planet, or at least that's what her father said... When she was younger she did not really believe it to be true... But, Moa was truly fascinated with these stories and has sworn to be like her grandfather, a hero. She thought she can only be a hero in her own way, just like those silly things people say to encourage people to do their best- But she actually became able to do what "superheroes" do when she became a member of the kitsune Squad.
Moa has always been the energetic one of the squad. She's always been a fan of comic books and rock music. She's lively and tomboyish and is the 'nerdy' type of girl who would always be looking for an adventure. So when she heard something on the news about a gargantuan causing trouble in DC she got excited. She knew this giant is the one in her father's legends! But what Moa did not know, is that the mayhem caused by the gargantuan was just a smaller bit of a bigger event.
Present day, DC
Moa haven't planned this trip. She just looked at a map and went to DC without telling Me, Yui or Black Knight San. When she went to her targeted location, she had not expected that the city be so--- empty... the streets are all unoccupied and there's this kind of noise she expected to hear, but was not able to... People! She was unable to hear the buzzing of busy citizens.
The noise she was hearing was different, it was the sound of destruction, chaos, mayhem... It was something she secretly wanted to hear, another opportunity to exhibit heroics. Another chance to be Super Moa Chan! After moments of walking the roads, she noticed something hovering above her. Something that resembled ancient buildings that were pictured in history books.Something that she should have seen earlier... She walked a little closer and saw tanks, helicopters, jets and sorts of government related "war vehicles" that 'circled' the city. Then there it was! She saw the great "Kyouryuu" (the great dinosaur in english) and Moa was definitely thrilled!
She teleported towards Kyouryuu Sama to be able to inspection him up close, only to see destruction everywhere... Kamen riders are being tossed by Kyouryuu Sama! Costumed heroes zooming and blasting, it was really noisy and she knew Kyouryuu Sama can't hear her in this condition.
She teleported nearer, waved her hands to be seen by the Giant, not caring about all the madness that's happening around her. And yelled:
@web_flotsam: As he stood triumphant near the ruined foundation of the Washington Monument, his armor warned him of an impending attack. More heat, like the heart of a planet. It had taken him by surprise despite the early warning systems in his battlesuit. As his vision went red, clouded by the intense energy, the armor itself barely had enough time to react. Propelling him out of the danger zone with a quick, uncontrolled blast from his thrusters, the armor landed him several blocks away. Unable to control his landing, he skidded across the asphalt about the length of two buildings, causing sparks and leaving a trail on the ground. Laying still on the pavement for a second, he allowed the advanced cooling system to return his body functions to normal. Slowly getting to his feet and regaining his posture, he analyzed the battlefield. Flames and smoke were everywhere. Most of the civilians had been evacuated, though a few remained. As his armor ran a diagnostic check on his organs, he glanced at his reflection in some nearby glass.
The armor had been dented and scratched. Even as it repaired itself, it had lost it's shine. The ceremonial engravings had been scratched off, and there were a few exposed parts of the armor giving off electric sparks. His body temperature was still extraordinarily high, and it had begun to take its toll on him. While he had much more stamina than an average man, he was beginning to feel the first signs of fatigue.
Couldn't they see he only wanted to help? Such disappointment. And now it had led to this. Buildings crumbled. The bodies of fallen Romans lie in the streets. If it was still functioning, their armor would soon activate and take their corpses to the Embassy, so that they may receive a proper funeral. They were the bravest of Rome, and their lives had been taken from them by the self-proclaimed saviors of this one. As he watched the grim procession of limp bodies hovering back to the Embassy, his anger and confusion grew. They would never understand. Perhaps this world could not be saved after all.
As he stood in the ruins of the Nation's capital, his armor picked up a heat signature in a building down the street. Then it alerted him of a noise, not like the other ones around him. It was an organic noise, made by an animal. More specifically, a person. One word. A cry for help.
It had come from the flaming wreckage down the street. It was a high-pitched voice, a young female, possibly injured and in need of aid. His boots activating once more, he barreled down the street at top speed, blasting through the front door. The ceiling had collapsed, burying whoever had cried for assistance underneath. Boosting over to the ruin, he used his gloves to uncover the body, working frantically to save whoever may be underneath. Indeed, it was a female, and her pulse was still active, but fading. Grabbing her body, he flew out of the building and into the streets.
Placing her gently in the road, he stepped back; he didn't want to surprise her. She opened her eyes, smiling. It had felt good to save someone; it felt like what he came to do. Extending his hand, he began to speak, to tell her it was alright, to tell her it was all going to be okay-
She cried out in horror, scrambling away from her would-be savior, too terrified to even get up. Her eyes were wide with fear, with horror, with pure terror. Grabbing a nearby rock, she hurled it wildly at the Emperor.
It bounced off the front of his visor with a sharp clang. It had not injured him, though it hurt him nonetheless. He watched as she got up, tried to run, tripped, got up again, and limped away into the city, his hand still extended. He lowered it slowly, defeated.
He had only wanted to help. It was his mission. It was what he had trained for, what he was born for. It had been his purpose.
The Madrid Viper's recuperation, the replenishment of his biophysical faculties and energies had been completed. Thankful for the the hyperactive regenerative qualities of his evolutionarily aggrandized healing factor, Santiago emerged from the encompassing infrastructural wreckage, his sculpted frame cleansed from previously sustained wounds and injuries. And his resolve, to defeat the vaunted Roman Emperor, ever stronger. His left hand maintained it's tight grip over his spear's wooden shaft, a countenance of earnest determination festooning his visage as his viper-like, sapphire eyes gazed into the flaming surroundings of an architecturally disheveled Washington DC. Silence overcame him, the rampant conflagration reflected on the scintillating surface of his eyes.
Locating Decimus was now his greatest priority. And so did. Shifting the quantum information that constitutes his consciousness from his mind and into space-time geometry, Santiago, by observing the various geometric patterns in the space-time continuum, pinpointed his adversary's current location and future one. As his 'Quantum Mind' regressed back to his body, the Spaniard darted off in search of the emperor. Past several minutes, the Black Viper had found him. The stench of blood permeated through the air, the drying blood of the emperor's loyal soldiers. With every coming hero, every coming defiant of Decimus' objective, the emperor's soldiers dropped like wingless flies. A visibly alarmed woman stumbled as she made her attempted escape from Decimus, prompting the Spaniard's immediate dash to her side, his strong, nurturing arms supported her injured frame as his spear de-materialized for the time being.
"You're hurt", he said just above a whisper, the compelling suavity and smooth rhythm of his Spanish accent cultivating a comforting atmosphere, partially calming her nerves as he continued, "Be calm, bella. Everything will be alright", he paused, his eyes shifting from her gaze to meet Decimus', "He will not hurt you. I promise", he affirmed, chivalrously lifting her from her feet, his arms gallantly carrying her delicate frame. "You came to me once, Emperor Decimus. You spoke of wanting to help this world. Perhaps naively, I believed that you intended to do so without aggression. You preach peace, you claim that you come in the name of brotherhood and prosperity, but when we exercise our freedom and emancipation from what you demand that we do, when we make clear our independence from your empire, you attempt to conquer, and force us to your ways".
A quiet, disappointed whisper of a laugh escapes the debonair Genio. "You do not bring salvation, mano. It doesn't matter what your messianic fantasies tell you. What you have brought is a political and military fiasco. What you bring is imperialist colonization. I came here, ready with the intention of donning my armor, unleashing my weapons and the full brunt of my powers to kill you where you stand. But I won't", a mystifying smile of cabalistic panache graced his features, "I will let you live. Today. Perhaps you will learn from your mistake. Perhaps you will see that in your forced salvation, there is only one objective; the gratification of your ego, the pleasing of your superiority complex".
"I have nothing more to do, here. The others, they will fight you. If you win, muy bien, you'll have proven me right, that you're a megalomaniacal dictator who aggressively opposes those who do not agree with him. If you lose, well, good for us, no? Rest assured, my friend. That if you find victory here, if you continue this... colonization, that in time, I will come for your head. And in that time, I will not spare you as I have today. So as you seek to force us to accept your gift of salvation, accept mine. My gift of life. Because next time, mano, I will come only with the gift of death. Adios". He did not wait for Decimus' response, no Santiago dismissed the emperor and abruptly, vanished, transposing himself and the unnamed woman elsewhere.
Rage. Rage was all he felt. Pure, uninhibited rage. A chemical reaction in the brain, designed specifically to overwhelm logic, to hinder thought, to disrupt order. Primal, archaic. An emotion felt by beasts, not men. Teeth red with blood clenched. Metal fists tightened. No more fear now. Only anger. His purpose had been taken. He was a man without a fate. Without anything to guide him. He watched the life signs of his men blink out one by one, flatlining, unable to be saved. Where had he gone wrong? Romans never fail. It's statistically impossible; he could not be at fault, nor could his Legion. Failure was unacceptable. Therefore the fault could only lie with this world. They hadn't even given him a chance; it was time for him to stop giving them chances they didn't deserve in the first place. No more injustice. No more pain.
No more mercy.
He would protect this planet and it's people at any cost. He would protect it from itself.
Flying into the center of the city, surrounded by the devastation of the battle, he stood amongst the ruins, waiting for his enemies to come for him. His power reactor, damaged by the lightning attack from earlier, was sparking with energy, overloaded past a point it was never intended to reach. His hands were covered in electricity, vented from the stores of the suit itself.
The Scorpion felt something odd looking at the Emperor, burning with power, apparently unscathed by her latest strike. It wasn't fear. Fear was as alien to her as love. It was respect. This Emperor was one of the first real threats she had faced in years. This would take a different approach than the usual. She spotted an injured Roman lying in the rubble of a nearby building. Perhaps taking him off guard would help.
She scattered into a swarm and surrounded the Roman, keeping to the shadows. "Hello? Who's there? Help, please..." He spoke in an odd form of Latin, the hole through his chest reducing his breath, but she fortunately knew enough of the original Latin to understand this modern form. Hopefully she could speak it adequately herself.
She poured into the hole in his armor, devouring the body within before the soldier could scream. A moment later, an injured set of armor drug itself to its feet. It stumbled around the corner towards the Emperor. "Mighty Emperor!" The being within it cried desperately. "Help me! Please!" Beneath the mask, a deadly proboscis readied itself. She would aim for the neck and suck him dry when he came to save his loyal follower.
@web_flotsam: An eyebrow raised behind Decimus' helmet. An injured soldier of his, crying for help, gravely wounded. Perhaps he wasn't thinking straight. Hadn't all of his men already died? Evidently not. He must have overlooked it, which wasn't like him. After all, so much had happened, so much about him had been...altered...
A thought struck him.
No matter his state, one thing would always remain certain. His closest allies referred to him by name, not rank.
"IMPOSTER!" The Bolts of Jupiter, overcharged like the rest of his armor, roared from his palms. Blue energy beams tore across the city block, ready to annihilate the faux soldier. Yelling outbursts of this sort were not like him, but for some reason, like a good day to change...
@kitsune_squad: @imperator_imperatorum: The armors allowed the Romans to fly through the Embassy shields and into the walls lifelessly. Noticing. The effect Goliath slammed praetorians against his fist painting it red with their gore and silver with the scraps of armor spread over his hand as he attempted to reach in the shields and punch the embassy. Alas, his hand was too titanic to be completely cover, the fingers reached through, his talons scraping the walls of the embassy until his palm stopped.
The Gargantuan sent out a deafening roar of anger after the fault, allowing him to notice DC. Ruins. And a young girl hovering in front of his face yelling, not in anger but almost in happiness. That was weird, really weird. Chipping a single scale off his body he flicked the scale over to her officially creating the first piece of signed Goliath memorabilia.
Looking back towards the ruins of DC he saw the emperor, broken, and vulnerable. His forces were a failure as the heroes of Earth denied Rome of an invasion painted as help. Trying to break Earth's legs and give it a crutch to play hero, with millenniums of observing civilizations and destroying them he noticed one fact among many others of civilizations, they don't like admitting fault, so when someone notices that and tries to help, it insults them. Even the Great Devourer saw the fault in his "peaceful" takeover, and he tried to perform a hostile invasion without violence expecting no backfire. The Emperor became a lone soldier, his grand jeweled armor now bloodied and wrapped so the scars of battle, his soldiers lay around him lifeless hovering back to the embassy's morgue. Instead of marching into the Capital Building with his praetorians he would most likely end up limping in the opposite direction alone. He was ready to give his life for a cause and go down alone for it. Goliath had no mercy but he had respect, if he was going to take injury in this battle who was he to destroy the embassy where he would retreat? Besides, if he survived this encounter, if he observed his fallen brothers, if he let his rage fester inside, if he learned an iron grip is the only reliable grip, he would become a valuable ally, and an even better mindless weapon.
Goliath was gone, sprinting into the rubble of DC. To let the battle unfold and let fate decide if the Roman would survive.
"You know I could walk out of this place if I wanted to?"
Guy Geller had spent much of the last decade in prison. He was sitting on one side of a thick sheet of glass, his arms held behind his back by a large pair of restraints, complete with whirring noises and flashing lights. His legs were encased in a similar piece of technological wizardry, with a heavy chain connecting to the entire thing. To the average joe, it looked like there was no way he could escape.
"I don't doubt it."
In reality, no-one had yet devised a way to successfully contain the walking nuke. When he was incarcerated, he went to jail willingly. He had remained there since and, while it appeared that he was well restrained, all the guards knew that his cuffs could not truly hold him. It was an act, meant to reassure the American public of the fact that the former hero was not a threat.
"So why don't you?"
The prisoner had received a rare visit from an old friend. Kingsley Kaine had been close to the Geller family for years, and remained so even after the divorce and prison sentence made things difficult. He was a dedicated and caring man, one who had retired from the superhero life himself, but to raise his children and allow his wife to continue working. In many ways, he was a lot of things that his friend was not.
"I don't know."
"Yeah, you do," Kinglsey replied, leaning in towards the glass. His expression was sombre, as it always was when he saw Guy, but it was also somehow reassuring. "You've got no reason to leave. Heck, you've got no reason to live."
"Mm." Guy didn't look up. He couldn't bear to make eye contact.
"Look, I know it's hard. You made a bunch of bad calls, took a wrong turn here and there, ended up losing everythin' that was important to you. Doesn't seem like there's any reason to go on, right? Wrong. Some day you're gonna get out of here and then you get to build somethin' new. You can start buildin' now, too, there are plenty of guys worse than you who turned their lives around behind bars. It'll be hard, but that's okay."
"Sometimes you gotta do somethin' that hurts to somethin' that's right."
Now...
Moments ago, Geller had his enemy on the ropes, ready to drive his fist through the Emperor's helmet and deep into his wretched skull. Before he could seize his opportunity, his foe disappeared, and that fist was instead driven through the concrete below. With a roar of anger, the Nuclear Nomad attacked the ground instead, pummelling the surface of the street into a fine dust in his frustration. Radiation continued to bleed from his stomach, though it was now a little more controlled.
"They used to go down easier..." he grunted, delicately examining his wound with one hand. The fallen star was not entirely sure how to deal with it, having never been cut before. For a long time he had only been able to guess about the nature of his inner physiology, this finally confirmed his suspicions. Whether the cut would heal was another question entirely.
Unable to locate his enemy amidst the chaos, what with a giant dragon having now entered the fray with an assault on the embassy, the nomad finally received a clue as he heard a terrible rumbling sound in the distance. The great obelisk disappeared from the skyline for a moment, before reappearing as Guy found himself facing down the pointed end of the Washington Monument, Decimus having thrown it like a gigantic spear. In his minds eye, he could see multiple options...
He could trust in his durability and allow the structure to strike him and likely shatter into pieces.
He could seize the projectile and turn it around in order to use it against the invader.
Truly, Guy knew that he had only one option. Destroying the monument was as much an emotional attack as it was a physical one. The United States of America had suffered so many losses recently, so many of their most famous landmarks had been desecrated. The Statue of Liberty was destroyed, even the White House had been all that demolished. Losing another building would cripple the morale of the American people. That could not happen.
Planting his feet against the ground and gritting his teeth, Geller threw his arms out in front of his body, hands open wide, as he allowed the crushing weight of the obelisk to crash into him. His arms cushioned the blow as it was driven mercilessly into his chest, his feet cleaving through the ground as the force of the blow drove him backwards. Tempted to cry out as the pointed tip of the pillar pressed against his wound, he resisted the urge and slowly ground to a halt, his hands firmly grasping the underside of the structure.
Now faced with an almost impossible task, Guy finally did cry out, another mighty roar escaping his lips as he pushed upwards with his hands. With the point resting against his torso and his hands placed beneath the rock, he had no choice but to use that relatively minuscule lever to raise the monument once again. Slowly, over five hundred and fifty feet away, the base of the structure moved skyward. As momentum picked up, the obelisk gradually moved higher and higher, until at last it was once again perpendicular to the ground, albeit upside-down.
With the entire weight of the massive structure concentrated onto one point, even the mighty Fuzion was struggling. His strength had been considerably lower since his injury, and with the strain placed on his body by his current objective, his energy output was finally greater than the rate of energy production. He didn't have much time left. With purple beads of irradiated sweat flooding from his brow, Geller lined himself up and hurled himself into the sky. His energy stores plummeted as he used it to propel himself and the monument into the air, more leap than levitation.
"Sometimes, you need to do something that hurts..." Guy panted, as he sailed through the air, finally reaching the required height of six hundred feet. He allowed the obelisk to rotate in his grip, the base of the structure rushing down to meet the Earth. With his hands now resting against the top of the rock, he waited until the descent had reached the perfect vertical angle before pushing down and thrusting the Washington Monument back into the ground where it once stood.
"To do something... right..."
With that final effort, the hero was finally drained. The fusion reaction within his heart was no longer enough to sustain him and, finally, the titan slept. Losing consciousness, he fell to the ground, coming to a stop face down in the dirt in front of the monument he had worked to hard to preserve. He would be no use in the final battle, but he had dented the Emperor's armour and used his last breath in an attempt to keep the hope alive.
Now was time for the new generation of heroes to prove their worth.
@imperator_imperatorum: The Iron Giant charged the Roman, his skin completely made of vibranium nanobots. Hanging from his back was an entire antique light machinegun from the beaches in Normandy, settling in dust inside the museums of DC quickly restored to fit the matter.
DC was in ruin, the capital of the United States burning because the Romans thought they needed their help. A rage burned inside his heart as he prepared to tackle to Roman as he fired at his soldier, and empty round after round into him. While it wouldn't go through, having bullets fire out by the second from such a heavy gun was sure to cause at least dizziness. Just so he could get a small dose of the pain he would receive when his metal fists slammed the helmet with all the force he could muster. He was something much more than a politician, and because of the arrogance from this man his country was in turmoil and it's citizens fled in fear. That wouldn't do at all.
Moa-Ne's attempt to capture Kyouryu Sama's attention was a success. The giant flicked a scale towards her with an impact so strong, it sent her flying towards a building nearby. Moa made a hole in the building's wall but did not cause her too much damage. She's Super Moa Chan after all.
Moa: "I am so keeping this!"
Getting up and dusting herself she saw the ruins of a battle. fallen Kamen riders everywhere-- "Hey! why would you waste robots? C'mon people!" Not talking to someone in particular, Moa did not realize that the fallen praetorians were not mere robots but in fact soldiers of this tyrant who attempted to conquer.
"Hey? where's--- where's Kyouryuuu SAMA?"
Moa-Ne looked for the origin of all the noise that were happening around her... A battle is going on-- And as she was given a responsibility to keep harmony in this planet she decided to investigate.
She saw a robot charge towards another robot. She's Seeing Kamen Riders bash against each other, Moa did not understand what was happening but she decided to side the one with the more 'ruined' armor. The other Kamen Rider was holding a gun, he's silvery in color and he shines nobly while shooting at the 'lesser' Kamen riders. But the silver Kamen Rider punched the more damaged one in the head and despite the helm he's wearing, Moa definitely knew it hurt.
<Wait-- this guy is not a Kamen rider, he's just has this silver skin!>
She grabbed a lamp post broke it and tried to hit the 'Silver Kamen rider'.
As power signatures across the city began dropping, Theta sprinted towards one of the few that remained constant. The previously detected atomic signature had dropped dramatically and the enormous reptile could no longer be seen towering over the ruined skyline, but this particular energy signal seemed to have increased tenfold. This signature was likely the leader of the invaders, and he seemed to be the only one of his forces left. Countless hundreds of fallen soldiers were drifting lazily into the sky, their incursion halted. The invasion had failed.
But that evidently didn't mean the danger was over. Judging by the immense energy outputs, the Emperor had power enough to level the city a hundred times over. Theta had little desire to enter the heart of the fray, but the machine had chosen a side, and now that the final stages of the battle had come, it was only right to see it through to the end.
Sticking to the shadows of the ruined buildings as it neared the heart of the city, Theta observed the beginning of the end.An oversized humanoid with metal skin charged the armored emperor, a heavy projectile weapon pounding the latter with bullet after bullet. A few final calculations reassured Theta that if it attacked the Emperor alone, the machine wold be, to put it bluntly, completely screwed. But perhaps with the Iron Goliath taking the heavy hits, they would have a chance.
Without accurate information on the metal man's strength though, it would be useless to attempt a guess at the likelihood of victory. But before Theta could even try, a new threat emerged. A second humanoid, evidently drawn in by the duel between the metal man and the Emperor, came flying down and tore up a metal post from the ground. As the new combatant swung the post toward the metal skinned man, Theta finally stopped calculating and entered the battle.
Leaping out from its hiding place and drawing its sword, Theta landed atop the metal man, and, turning to face the oncoming female, lunged forward, swinging the sword around and slicing the post in half. As the mechanical alien struck the ground, silver claws dug into the already cracked road, bringing it to a stop facing the female.
The variables necessary to redirect the portal had to be monstrous. It'd be like uprooting a temporal bridge, like breaking the laws of physics to make two plus two three. Somehow however the Roman's pulled it off. It wasn't quite as progressive however as one might wish, for the giant beast had managed to toss Roman's into her portal. The damage from the giant tossed Pratorians would of been monstrous. As Saraph and the portal were relocated to the planets core they fell, but the hero did not. Designed to keep getting stronger and faster the core only helped her. Clothing singed and tips of hair burned black but in the end ever still the blonde escaped her imprisonment freed from the rifts fabricated by the little Stark.
To survive the situation she was in Sara's body had grown stronger and faster then it ever had before. She knowingly knew her speed was at a million miles per hour and strength a startling ten million tons. Frighteningly she could climb even higher, Sara had the ability to get infinitely stronger and faster if the fight provided it. And so far she hadn't really exerted herself she could push harder still besides having a tan and black burned hair tips she was fine.
Thankfully @Fuzionguy: had sparred the city of another moral crippling blow. As Natasha Stark and her blond haired ally readied to enter the fray Natasha took a moment to kneel beside the fallen icon. Thanks to small squads of soldiers Nat had a constant update on the happenings. Ordering a squad over she opened a rift. "Get him medical aid, a nuclear scientist probably being more accurate then a surgeon." Afterwards the teleporting tempest looked to Saraph it was time they ended this fray.
Earth was a web of fractures, bodies and debris littered the capital. To spare the city more cataclysm the First Daughter projected a forcefield. A wide but never the less prescient barrier designed to restrict damage befalling the capital. "One last chance Emperor, surrender. Your getting your people and ours killed. You've offered salvation but initiated Armageddon. Offer true help, or expect to die."
If denied Natasha readied her rocket launcher thumbing a particular round. She'd create numerous portals around the Roman designed to keep him right where he was. Every direction leading to the very position he was at. The rocket prepared was type Black, it fabricated a two second black hole. With no direction leading away it'd quite possibly rip her foe apart on a molecular level. Her portals only had one other direction she'd let them go, inside the Embassy. They were her portals and now that she knew he could potentially redirect them she could plan for it. Making it likely nothing more then a choice of his survival or his people. It was taxing on the presidents daughter, blood dripped from her nose but she refused to let her nation fall.
And as soon as that yielded Saraph would advance. At her speeds, exceeding hypersonic and even those of re entry her trail blazed like an inferno. The collision would shatter a building like glass, the shockwave alone could topple infrastructures. Her strength was enough to casually lift the very spire that had been thrown as a spear earlier. She wasn't a equal force in this field Sara had been forged into a monstrous force. One that sought to tackle into the emperor and pound as fast as ten million mile per hour speeds would allow. Natasha able to contain the volatile moves by redirecting all the heat and shockwaves in the direction of Sara and the emperor. A collaborative effort that should be decimating even to some of the grandest titans.
@senator_steel: @kitsune_squad: @theta: @natasha_stark: As he traded blows with the metal man that had come to defend his pathetic excuse for a civilization, Decimus noticed that there were others that had joined the fray. A robot, a young girl. And the Witch, back for more. As the portals enclosed upon his person, he could only conclude that he was about to fall victim to an incredibly deadly sequence of attacks. Any portal he may try to escape through would evidently lead to his current position, or worse; therefore, escape would be the only option for now. But in which direction? He was surrounded, there was no way out...except the ground beneath his feet. Activating his seismic weapon, the Trident of Neptune, he burrowed a hole beneath himself at astonishing speeds, flying through the tunnel as quickly as he was making it. His cloaking device, the Helm of Pluto, would prevent him from being detected from all sources, be they organic, technological, or mystical.
He had come too far, lost too much, to die today. But there would be no mercy for those who had denied their world salvation. True, it was no ruse, the way he felt, which may have been the real tragedy of the entire affair. Having only wanted to help, he could not comprehend the rebuttal of the various heroes of this world. Confusion leads to fear. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate...and so on. It was no lie, so, something within Decimus had snapped. Perhaps it was the blood-bending, or his helplessness as he watched his troops fall around him. However, he would not, no, he could not stop now.
The Helm keeping him completely hidden, he landed behind the Witch, completely unbeknownst to her. There could be only one solution, carried out at speeds too fast to be understood.
Moa-Ne was shocked to see another Kamen Rider appear out of nowhere. It sliced the lamp post Moa was supposed to hit the silver skinned person with. She was stunned, she dropped what she was holding. Now Moa sees a female drawing near in speeds unimaginable, about to bash herself against the poor armored Kamen Rider. The Kamen Rider who just sliced her iron staff now, is facing Moa. And there seemed to be an aura of rage and despair around the area that made Moa's heart thump hard. There was Force. Around her, are such great forces clashing against each other, Everything ablaze. Then Moa started bursting in tears.
"You! All of you! STOP!" Moa is in tears.
"Okay! I know I was not in time to know why you're all up against this armored person! But-- Why all that force? Why inflict such pain? I am supposed to enforce peace! 'Heiwa'! And all i see are the corpses of these Kamen Riders who have PEOPLE inside their armours! I can't distinguish the villain or the hero... But i definitely know when a beating goes wrong! Ijime Dame Zettai!"
Moa cannot control her emotions anymore, it's as if her tears are coming from those of the fallen. So much death, it just hurts her feelings.
"Please! I am begging you all to stop! Please! Onegai!"
Log in to comment