GODHOOD

Over and over, the coffins lurched forward on the rail, suspended high above the vast, infernal conversion chamber. As a pod reached the end of the line, it would drop down and be carted off to one of the countless operating tables, where the unfortunate soul inside was poured out, and mechanical arms stripped them to pieces, layering on armor and subjecting them to the Supreme Vision. The process took hardly a minute, and the completed legionnaires flew off to receive their weapons and join the inquisition. From one of the pods in the long, crowded line, there came a faint noise, impossible to hear over the clang of metal, the rushing of fires and the painful wails of the innocent. It was the sound of sizzling, of deteriorating metal, the sound of escape. Suddenly, a cluster of burning thermite fell through a tiny hole it had burrowed in the base of the pod, and it fell down into the chamber. The flames showered directly onto the head of a flying legionnaire, and the beast was hurled from its flight path, careening into an operating table and destroying several instruments as it writhed and thrashed, trying to escape the fires that effortlessly dissolved through its helmet. The soldier felt no pain, only dead tissue searing away, but as a servant of Dathron, it wanted nothing more than to serve him, to survive and slaughter heretics in his name. Instead, the miserable creature was freed from its servitude. It struggled no more.

Others flying by swooped down to the sight of their comrade's perishing. They turned their heads skyward and hissed as they took flight toward the pod where the fire had come from. One was immediately struck on the back by something falling from the hole, a small golden cylinder, which exploded on impact. Its flight harness destroyed, the beast spun out of control and plummeted far below. The others were only more outraged by this, and continued upward. Two remained below while one flew up alongside the metal coffin. With a wave of its hand, the line came to a halt before that pod, all the ones in front of it continuing forward. The legionnaire flew up and swung his spear against the glass shell of the coffin. It scraped, but refused to break. Again and again he thrust the point of his spear into the shell. It cracked. The cracks spread, and as the legionnaire reared back for one final plunge, a fist shattered through the glass and took hold of the beast's head, pulling it in and taking the spear. The other legionnaires watched, curious, as their comrade was taken out of sight.

Moments later, the beast, was kicked out of the pod with long gashes along its armor, and struck the ground far below. They began to fly up and were met with a red and gold blur sailing down from the pod, fighting them off and landing on the catwalk along the outer wall of the chamber. Longshot ran to the rail and looked down on the sea of suffering beneath him. He memorized the faces, the agonized, innocent faces of the unfortunate humans who now screamed their last breaths. He wanted to save them, he wanted to rescue every last one of them, and every legionnaire hailing from other worlds conquered by Dathron, but he knew he could not, and his soul burned for that fact. His escape had halted the line delivering people to their doom, it would save a few lives if he hurried.

The archer backed into the shadows, but he was taken by surprise as a spear sunk into the wall, electricity flaring down the tip. A trio of legionnaires flew at him, and he was quick to act. Taking the spear in the wall, he broke off the handle and flung it at them, taking one of them out instantly. He ripped out the electrified spearhead and held it like a dagger in the hand opposite his spear. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw soldiers and fell creatures approaching along the catwalk. They closed in on him from all sides, but like a wounded animal, he stood his ground. There was no retreat from here. This was the final line before extinction, and he would not back down. They pounced, declaring the fight to commence, and he gladly returned, charged by ferocity and rage at the blood of humanity on their master's hands. It ended here. He would see to that, even if it meant the death of him.

THE LONG ROAD TO HELL

No surrender. As every attack came, the General weaved, dodged, parried, or, unfortunately, took the hit. By the end, she was truly distraught. Her armor had been chipped and withered, stripped away entirely in places. Her eyes were nearly blind form the light of the fire. In every possible way, she yearned for rest, for the fight to end and to be granted a her recovery. Her scars. Her beautiful scars had been contaminated by the gashes of the demon's onslaughts. It was desecration, making a mockery of the image Dathron had made her into. She was ruined, but a warrior she remained. She slowly rose up from her hands and knees, getting to her feet. She staggered, falling back to her knees. Something was wrong. She should have still been able to stand. Not even these injuries could halt her, and yet her legs gave out beneath her in a display of weakness against her commands. She ran a hand down her abdomen, and a surge of ice ran through her as she felt something protruding from just above her hip. She clutched it and looked down cautiously, shocked at the sight of a chain sword lodged halfway through her. It had sliced the armor, cut through her side and come to a stop just before the immediate kill. She placed both hands on the hilt and lurched forward, painful gasps escaping her lips, her eyes wide in shock. "And so, this is how I die." she whispered, staring angrily to the ground, "My servitude... my honor... my sacrifice... all of it will be lost to my master. He will march on through eternity, leaving me behind... a mortal... dust in his wake. In the coming eons, he will achieve his goal. All the Universe will share his vision, every Universe will know his greatness." she bowed her head and closed her eyes, a single tear tracing down her cheek, "I only wish that I could see it."

She looked up once again at her slayer, the demon. "You... have proven worthy. As a warrior." she said through her teeth, voice heavy with both scorn and obligatory respect, "You are still a heretic. It is not too late, demon. Look at how much you have lost this day. Dathron has no mercy for those who deny his wisdom. Save yourself the misery." The dirt beneath her refused to hold any more of her silvery blood as she spoke, "I believe... I believe the legion... will be in need of a replacement."

Steadying her hold on the blade, the General looked to the sky and bellowed, "For Lord Dathron!" she glanced down one last time and whispered, "For salvation." Without mercy, she ripped the sword through her again and crumpled to the ground. Her firm grip on the blade loosened as life left her. Her long path had come to an end. Her service was over.

A BROKEN SKY

"I knew from the beginning you were a traitorous worm." Dathron snarled as he looked upon the glowing image of his renegade god, "As I have with every being I have ever encountered, I offered you a second chance. I offered you an opportunity to redeem yourself of your disgraceful existence. I offered you immortality. And you spat in my face. As for the prediction of your betrayal, Fate is a fickle thing. I speak with it always, yet it is always changing around circumstance. With the powers of a god, you held greater influence over Fate than most. However, you never truly know the Supreme Vision, so you were never truly a god, just a more powerful version of what you already were, a thief." His figure loomed ever greater as he spoke, "A spiteful little child, greedy and ready to forsake loyalty at a whim. You are worse than a follower. You are a fool."

He walked towards her and reached out his hand. "I take from you your power." Her eyes were aglow as the Eternal Flame poured from her and back into him. "You are a false god no more."

His hands out to either side, sheets and scraps of metal poured across the fields and through the sky, closing in around her. Tons upon tons of scrap, even the nigh-indestructible metal of his ships, enclosed her in a cocoon through which nothing could penetrate other than his voice. "Exile will serve you well." The shell slowly began to rise off the ground, getting higher and higher, "I am banishing you to the Alpha Centauri galaxy. Perhaps there, in the cold embrace of the cosmos, you will learn to regret your ways." With a wave of his hand, the shell launched into the sky. Not a single of his ships dared fire on it. It gained speed, bursting through the atmosphere and flying far, far away from Earth.

Moments later, Dathron heard the whispering of Fate and looked up just as the sky cracked open and tendrils reached out across the blood red skyline. From the armadas of Dathron and Kaligar alike, they devoured ships and soldiers. It consumed a single of his lesser-gods, and it knew it wanted more. "I know you." Dathron snarled to the great beast in the sky, “The great horror, the creature of boundless destruction.You feed on energy, on bio-mass. Then feed.” Steadying himself, he clenched his hands. With an incredible weight racked against his mind and body alike, he cast up everything he could. He offered to the tendrils the bodies of countless fallen creatures, of legionnaires and humans, Symaarians and Orks, and great monsters of incredible size. Even the remnants of the enormous Pit Dweller he fed to the destructive tendrils lashing in the sky. Wreckage of ships and tanks and great war machines poured into them along with the bodies. The deed was done, but the creature still hungered.

Dathron raised his hands to the sky and unleashed the Eternal Flame into them, a blinding pillar of the raw fire of creation. It was life and the cosmos in its strongest form, and he fired it into the hungry beast. His pantheon promptly did the smae, all the remaining hundreds of them. Dathron looked up through the furious fires that escaped from his hands and cried out with righteous anger, “Feast! Feast, you mongrel of darkness and hate! FEAST!”

At long last, he relented. He lowered his hands as the Flame promptly replenished itself. His eyes burned as a hole was torn in the sky above the tendrils. "Beyond that passage is a galaxy filled with bio-mass for you to consume, much more than remains here. If you still hunger, then go." He stared down this horror with the same unwavering confidence he had with any entity in his long life, and his influence over Fate would not forsake him this day.

The Horror's tail lashed across Dathron's face and he recoiled slightly. He looked down to examine the point of the attack and saw the most surprising of things, damage. His cheek had been cut open, and from it glowed the aura of the Eternal Flame. A film of impossibly hot magma now coated the end of the abomination's tail. He put his fingers to the wound and raised his hand, now encompassed in fire, as the wound began to close. "You wish to see me bleed." he stated, "I have no blood. Only the Flame burns in me. You wish to see me die..." he suddenly drove his burning fist into the ground and a shockwave of fire erupted around him as he howled, "I HAVE NO END!"

He looked up to his daunting foe as he spoke, "I am the constant, as are you. I am life. You are death. But you shall never feast upon me, as I am the life free of death."

Across the planet, his forces, as well as the remaining Orks, fought to the death against these new forces of the Horror, as well as the remaining Humans, and Earth's heroes. Although many perished, they were laying waste to their enemy in kind. Dathron could hear every battle, see every face racked with agony as it was crushed. "Stall your warriors." Dathron commanded to the Horror, "An entity of death surely has courage enough to face its own. Fight me. Do your battles by your own blood and leave this world for my salvation." He beckoned the Horror come down and face him in an equal form. He abhorred violence by his own hand. He considered it for lesser beings, but he knew the necessity of this battle. It would be decided here. Here, these icons would clash and discern the fate of not only Earth, but all of reality.

Dathron moved back step by step as the tyrant unleashed its fury on him. Over and over, it scathed him, and over and over, he healed. On the entity's last strike, Dathron stepped out of the way and came around the back to lock the tyrant in his arms. "Did you not hear me?" he snarled, "The fight is to be settled by us. Leave your forces out of it!" With that roar, his eyes burst into flames, and his entire body smoldered with unbridled heat. The ground beneath him was scorched black, and all around the world, the Horror's soldiers were overtaken by a fire growing in their chests, erupting outward. Many of them fell, burned from within beyond resurrection. Many still stood, but some among them were injured or near death. The armies that had previously fought one another for supremacy over Earth again converged on them.

Dathron looked to the ground and, gathering his focus, pulled a mound of rock from below the surface. With his very mind, he crushed the rock, compressing it into a humanoid form of tremendous stature. With his free hand, he released the Eternal Flame into the golem. It's eyes sparked with life, and dust and rubble were shaken away to reveal the stone visage of Dathron himself. While the true god held the tyrant, the golem marched on thunderous footsteps and moved to decimate the entity. With every passing instant, the golem took on more of Dathron's form, more of his power, and it unleashed its growing might upon the tyrant without care and without mercy.

Vengeance

Finally her blade found its way to flesh heated chain sword savagly tore skin and tendant. Fiendish teeth diging eating and ravaging the woman. The general bled "And so, this is how I die. My servitude... my honor... my sacrifice... all of it will be lost to my master. He will march on through eternity, leaving me behind... a mortal... dust in his wake. In the coming eons, he will achieve his goal. All the Universe will share his vision, every Universe will know his greatness. I only wish that I could see it." The recently made widow looked at her unsaken or phased. Her soft voice cold and simple. "You wont."

Her emerald eyes met those black spheres that reminded Azra of her slain daughter."You... have proven worthy. As a warrior." The general bleeding and in dying breath spoke Blair only smiled at the words "more than I can say for you, your but a slave." In agonized breath the woman belonging to Dathron spoke on. "You are still a heretic. It is not too late, demon. Look at how much you have lost this day. Dathron has no mercy for those who deny his wisdom. Save yourself the misery. I believe... I believe the legion... will be in need of a replacement." Emerald eyes narrowed as the flowing white hair and tattooed features of the iner demon of the mother frowned at her. "One they will never find and it sure as hell wont be me. I will not kneel it is that simple, you degrade yourself and are instantly inferior."

"For Lord Dathron! For salvation." Alezra Blair Roxom held tight to the blade adding her own rage to the motions of the general. Both puting effort in ending the life of the General of Dathron. Blair polishing it off by pulling it up and out of the neck the body falling in a pool of silvery gore. The demon licking the blood of her blade before reaching down and grabing the bald hed and heating it till flesh burned and thus she pulled the skull clean and charred from the remains of the corpse. The main fight was over but it was now raining what looked like seeds of the tyranids. They seamed adiment to assist humanity but much more enemies remained. Smiling towards Ravek the two prepared to lay waste to any and all straglers they found. Blair's rage still lingering from the fact that Kaligar was dead. She had her vengeance but her pain still held. And any and all acountable would suffer her wrath.

Hell

Serenity watched in shadows as the conflict spread. A pillar of flame burned like a star as it fell against the horror but slow it down it did not. The tyranid looking force simply spread the Horror never yielded only fed. The glutton of the universe that only slumbered to prepare to feed more savagly then when it first fell. The skies were a rain of destruction as gods and vessels were ravaged. A rain of blood and steel fell that nobody could afford to pay attention to. The monster lashed out the cross of worm and snake swiped bladed tail at the god. And to the gods shock his skin cracked torn open by the swipe. Unwavering though the god still fought the monstrous being that towered above even him. Despite the Horror coming off as the end of ends to most Dathron yelled at it and called it out.

A call came to fight the worm of dececration on even ground, a dual of gods versus gods rather than monstrosity and tamer. The flames of life and sin of pride against the bite of monster the sin of gluttony. And all the while the dark star the black shroud and sin of wrath watched. Magma laced the worm and it fed on it turning an attack into food a starving mass that could never be full. The monster fed on one of the lesser gods and then released a psychic scream that even hurt on the physical realm. In shadow though Serenity bubbled giddy by the pain an incarnation of masochim and everything wrong. A devil of devils and princess of the vast hellish ream of the warp simply watched smiling maniacly at the conflict before her.

Taking hold of the worm the god again challenged it, and blazing yellow eyes watched as a horned head shook. The prospect was lauhable, the Horror was not something to discuss things with. It may have been sentient, it was hard to say. But it certainly was not a talker it was hunger it was a chaotic rain that sought but more matter to consume you couldn't bargain or wager with it. A golem resembling the patheon was formed a giant size of buildings moving towards the fiend. A rain of tyranid forces steel blood and simple mayhem fell from the skies all across the planet, the sky a profound blood red. The globe so many fought for was but a warzone as of now. And Serenity she needed to play a part in this malestrom her thin ghostly skin raising from shadows.  A body fit for a god and clad in barely anything steped from darkness every step seaming to scream of psychic calamity rivaled only by that which the Horror wailed. The ground she seamed to traverse seamed to be naturally dark as if an ominous cloud hun over her head in a mile long radius. Every where the shroud roamed there was decay as her pressence alone brought about disease and famin saping life of the world.

The princess strolled seductive and leisure unassailed by all that fell. Simply not effected by the chaos as chaos was her home. Chains leisurely placed around her frame expanded and more grew. Unraveling from her flesh a beautiful but horrorific female that was the warps pride and joy. Kaligar had a strong bond to navigator and ties to the warp and he bed a demon. And as the child perished she was always to have two defined paths the Navigator's daughter or the warps princess. And in anguish the fate was sealed and now the woman of thorns aproached plotting to unravel all the universe ever tried to weave. From her hands sevral chains were made ready her left held ones tiped of sickles when they sank into something they tripled its weight and these dozen blades on chains were hurled at the giant each aiming to sink into the golems skull and pull it down as it weighed far more than its rocky form could uphold. From the other hand a dozen chains shot to tie around Dathron and sink into skin. The chains bypassed most things fading into what it needed and weighed thirteen pounds for every sin the being commited. Those wicked shackles of ruin didn't hit flesh or steel like normal but tended to fade through things that hindered damage so they could direcetly drive into skin. And from their they were torn free with horrific force and they didn't traverse like whips but almost seamed to simply teleport where needed,

All those fighting in this crater were gods of a goddess all with diffrent cards of war. Serenity though was not one with some proud vision or feasting stomach. She was perversion and chaos, tyrany and ruin. Her footsteps spoke of death and pending war Ren was wrath and as she rapidly lashed chains at her enemies she spoke. A voice soft but allways heard, a voice smooth and pleasing though always only promising pain. "No war is fought fair, no war is fought by those who cleanly care. War is only anguish and I breath that writhing pain with every exhale. The proudest soul is most pridefull right before it is ripped into bloody shreads."

A Distant Star

An hour past before she was free of her prism that bound her. Forty five before she had reached the point needed to do so. It took thirty minutes for her body to evolve to what it needed. Fifteen minutes had faded away before her mind came back to fruitition. Five minutes was how long it took for her abilities over gravity to anchor herself on the moon no longer shooting off into some distant world. And after all of this time something progressed the final touch needed for a girl to become what she sought for so eagerly. Shooting into the middle of the various vessels clouding the skies the small chamber the blond perfection was in sat like an egg abandoned in a black void. Then the egg began to glow like the engines of a ship preparing to dart off at light speed a bright glittering becon. Finally it burst into the likes of a supernova. A star born of the galaxy by unwanted means and not by cosmic force but science and evolution. A cosmic deity made not born a star of true creation as she was built of the ground up.

Dathron had given her power made it part of her made it a piece of her DNA. And then he had tried to take it from her beautiful body. He wanted to rob her banish her exile her unaware of what it could very well mean. The body was designed to adapt and change as needed to make her better to make her always perffection and that was mildly tamed as the eternal flame burned in her heart. When it was pulled free however that tame domain became a providence to blossom to the bodies own unfathomable heights. By making her not his strongest of lesser gods she could simply become a goddess pure and untame energy. Green light began to be seen glowing from the remarkable metal that bound her and then it bubbled untill finally it burst.

A star a supernova of fire and nuclear energy and electrical currents. She fought Overkill and became close to him to obtain the powers he held and now Dathron had just made them even greater. And of course her abilites retained the augmented strength that the god gave her. An explosion flooded the void of space the energy washing over the ships a lesser god to close to her when the woman emerged met an untimely end. His body simply fading from reality as he exploded under unfathomable waves of energy. As the flash of emerald light that could have been seen all around the globe subsided a woman of pure energy stood. Emerald and neon light forming the shape of the beautiful woman that was Syapt. The goddess of evolution that glowed. Ready to lay total waste any and all that was before her that held to Dathron. And soon as it perished she would go to confront him on equal ground where she now held indefinate high ground. Project Evo was to make the perfect soldier from it came Evie or Eve and from her came an ever growing force.

Dathron caught the tyrant and held firm as they grappled. "Did you enjoy the taste of my golem?" Dathron snarled, glaring into the creature's eyes, "Were you satisfied as you consumed it and sent it into oblivion? I can make you millions more, abomination. Billions. An endless supply of duplicates to myself. You can feast on god flesh forever, whereas me and my pantheon would supply you with only moments of satisfaction." The Master God was not bargaining for his life. His legion was beginning to crack under the pressure of the Horror's creations. The Humans, whom he had wished to save from their ignorance, were being slaughtered without chance of redemption. He did this for their sake, to appease the Horror and send it away from Earth until he could fight it on dueling terms, no one else to be lost in the crossfire. "You have no need for words, but surely, you can understand me. I want you to leave. Leave this planet and await my return. At that time, I shall give you this gift. A god's word is never broken."

It was at that moment that he became aware of Serenity's presence. "Perhaps you would like to take your daughter with you." he said. Despire the kind sentiment, his voice remained icy and cruel, "I believe you two have some catching up to do... Symaarian." He stared at the tyrant, still locked in death struggle. Although the creature no longer had need for speech, he awaited a response, in whatever form it may come.

Longshot staggered through a doorway and slammed down on the button to shut it behind him. He fell against the wall and slid down to the floor where he gathered his breath in darkness. Fists now pounded on the opposite side, and the howls of the legionnaires pierced the metal and his heart in a single toll. His tired arm reached into his belt and raised his communicator to his mouth.

"Agent Hannigan..." he released the button and waited for a response, but heard only a cloud of static. He clamped down on the talk button again.

"Melissa, can you hear me?" He was met again with only cruel, hissing silence. He bowed his head and whispered painfully, "Please... please, god, just answer me. Please, just ANSWER ME!" The silence on the other end was broken by a faint click and a familiar voice lifted his spirits. "Longshot?" she asked.

"Melissa!" he exclaimed, almost laughing, but the weight on his soul restrained his joy, "You're alive. Are you okay?"

"Barely. We've got too many people on board. We can't hold up for long. How is it in the sky?"

"Bad. It's... it's a nightmare, Melissa. I saw what they do to people. I couldn't save anyone... I couldn't save anyone."

"It's okay, Longshot. You did the best you could. There's... there's no coming back from this. I'm sorry, but we can't hold up like this. We tried. We did the best we could." Her voice grew more somber by the second. More than her words ever could, her tone conveyed her defeat.

Longshot put his head in his hand as the pounding and screaming behind him grew louder. "Dathron.... Dathron won." said Melissa.

"Melissa..." Longshot whispered, "I have one last thing to do."

"What are you saying, Longshot?" she asked.

"I know what I have to do and, in case I don't make it..."

"Don't do it!" she screamed, her voice echoing of heartbreak.

Despite her pleas, Longshot continued, "I know we decided to put the past behind us and never talk about it again, but if this is the last time we talk, I want you to hear it. I don't know if I'm saying this because I'm about to die, but I... I love you, Melissa. You're my friend. When I was on the brink, you pulled me back. You gave me hope. I'm sorry I never let you get close to me, but you gave me hope when I was lost. The least I can do is return the favor. I love you so much." He pulled the communicator away from his face and shut his eyes tight as he had to listen to Melissa's screams, her begging and pleading and sobbing. He shut off the communicator and rose up. He put three arrows to the string and kicked the button on the wall, stepping back as the demons of Dathron's army flooded in. He fired, and remained steadfast in the face of Armageddon. He had to be strong. He had to fight.

Death?

It had all happened too fast. The two rebels had barged into the throne room of Dathron, expecting much. Well at least he had been expecting much. He couldn't fathom what was going on inside Eve's mind, though he didn't care. She was a friend, he didn't have to intrude on her thoughts with questions and the such. So he didn't. But at this moment, he wondered, did she know that they were going to fail this miserably. Maybe, maybe not, it didn't matter anymore. As soon as they had entered the room, he had been defeated with an easy blast of Dathron's eyes. He didn't even get the chance to scratch him, and in retaliation of their assault he felt the heat of an exploding sun, burning right through his abdomen. It was all over for Joey as he started to fall to the ground of the planet he had decided to fight for.

Then for a while, all went black. And he started to dream, he dreamed of his rebels still fighting, the world standing a chance against Dathron, of humanity being victorious. It was the best dream ever. For it showed him the will of humanity one last time, and he felt happy as death started approaching him. Then, the dream started to fade, and he opened his eyes. Just barely though, just enough to see people still fighting. People still waging their own war. Though just like the dream, it was soon over. And another dream took the place of his last one. This one more of a dream than his last, but still one with many pleasure's. Instead of his people fighting, he saw known heroes and villains of the world fighting for the planet. And it wasn't just recent ones, it was the people of the past. Abe Lincoln, Malcolm X, George Washington, and even the peaceful Bob Marley. Is this... heaven. Joey said in a quiet voice. Then, all the heroes and villains of the world stopped fighting and turned to him. No, this is war Joey. This is Hell. And Dathron rules this land, along with heaven, and earth. Joey eyes widened, and then he frowned, and instead of felling the purity of joy, he felt the dark strength of anger. No. I won't... no, humanity won't allow Dathron to take us. That i am sure of. Joey growled. And then the heroes and villains smiled at him, and returned the favor. That's when his eyes opened for a second time.

This time he saw the specifics better, he saw groups of people. Some of them ragged, some of them with bling, and one of them with two of the biggest guns he has ever seen. Just like before though, the people were fighting, and they were fighting a lot better than his own rebels had ever fought. He looked around trying to get a feel for where he was at, and who he was looking at. It looked pretty bad, lots of buildings destroyed and many streets crumbling. Not only that, but it wasn't just people and the legion fighting, it was like looking at the war of worlds. Oddly enough though, the one thing he saw in abundance was people, like this was the one city that Dathron couldn't get too hard of a grasp on without jumping into the fray himself. Where am i? He thought to himself? Joey thought to himself, as one of the thugs looked back at him. "Yo Urbs, he starting to stir man." Urbs... the Detroit Lion, the man who scares even heroes. If he's here, then that means... "Good. Take him to one of the hospitals left standing." The Detroit Lion commanded. "Are you sure it's even necessary, the wound he originally came here with is almost completely healed." He was right Joey realized, the wound seemed to have disappear. Even so Urbs looked at his underling with a glare that could kill a man. Instead of dying though, the man just looked bashful and said, "Right, right. My bad." Urbs grunted and continued fighting, while the other man came and picked Joey up. All the while Joey started smiling. I guess there's more rebels than i thought. Joey thought to himself while starting to drift back into darkness.

Unyielding Vendettas

Heaven chose to claim Kiara that lovely redhead Azra cared for would never be seen again as far as Azra knew. That blood laced fate of the mistress hurt the crimson haired demon deeply inflicting a ever stuck scar. Then came the death of Kaligar brought on by the strong ork known as Bloodstompa, she may have looked down on the species but there was no denying the creature held sway in battle. The loss of the love of her life stomped on her heart left her broken. And then the general of Dathron's army took Serenity from Azrael. When wars came it was the parents that buried their children, such was the saying and such was the case. The loss of her first daughter shattered the demons heart. From almost the begining the demon had sucumbed to her darker self. Untill this war was over she would roam the earth with tattoo covered skin radiating of the ocult. Her skin would remain with white hair and skin the color of ash. For no mater what befell this day she was not goin to see her vendetta come to an end. Vengeance was sweet but not something that would find full gratification today. When heaven burned, when space was a flood of ork blood and when the stain of Dathron was a forgotten memory, only then would the grieving widow and mother rest.

Reaching for the comm she spoke to give clear orders, she had visited the White House before the whole clash with the General for a reason. The reign over the military had been assigned to her with reason. With the fate sealed for the woman the skull being worn now like a necklace it was time to help control the calamity spreading along the globe. "The ugliest ones falling like rain drops, they're not out to take our lives. Purpose is unknown but you need not shoot them." Hesitant soldiers heald fire and saw such to be true. That being the case they began to focus again at needed targets. Ork and Legion forces losing the sway of numbers as a semblance of order fell into orchestration. Keresh, the Symarr/Teres race of Azrael, refound Symarrians and the tyranic fought along side humans. The more powerfull races giving lives to keep the weaker safe. Fiends of the Horror died in mass allowing Symarrian to die valiantly. Which let the much smaller number of Keresh and Teres on the earth to go down fighting hard enough to be heroes. And of course humans began to fall only in the most dire circumstance. That was not to say that the Legionair's were without merit. Only that they were becoming outgunned as captain's recieved orders from generals without fear.

Azrael turned to face Ravek on a grizly battlefield. A sea of dead of various races and nations seamed to stretch atleast a mile across the sand. Still though they stood an army that had fought a large scale conflict and won. Flames of various tanks and air craft flooded the field with thick smoke they had a victory however. A Stormhawk flew in ready to resuply the troops. Fresh energy cells and bolter rounds passed around to the remainders. The oversized aircraft served as a mass suply vessel. As crates emptied it became a troop carier. "It's time we go take some cities back. I would love to target Dathron but I know others are and the planet has more fights than just the figurehead." Engines roared to life as the mixed species filed into the ship and the door sealed. They had other battlefields to change the tides of.

Adapt Or Die

Syapt continued to rain beams of nuclear energy and solarbeams of flame upon those that filled the skies and space above. She took many hits she would have died if anyone else, but that was not the case. She was the child of atom and the assaults hit her and then were forgoten. Targets dove at her striking and soon obliterated in response to what they chose to do. Evie was not going to relent not ever she would flow like the raging rivers, this fleet was but a boulder in her stream. Eventually as the pressure mounted it would move, or in this case burn away as flames like those of creation sought to mealt it to the point it was its initial starting element years ago. The energy put forth rivaled that of Dathron it could very well do what it was aimed to. Satisfied with the damage she brought to the fleet the glowing neon light of a figure then teleported to the massive ship that had originally annointed her godhood.

Telekenetic abilities sought to push, tear and rip all that got in her way. Pushing and shoving the gods ship into pieces. Every movement of the glowing figure sought to make the ship buckle in on itself. Her footsteps fell only on air as she mimiced walking though she hovered. Every step however aiming to send a lance of energy both up and down as if trying to saw the very space craft in half. Every force that steped before her she caused to explode from inside out or combust. Blades hit her but she recovered, again legions died. It was not because they were slopy they were the design of a supreme vision they were grand fighters in every right and tough to kill by many regards. And the numbers fealt almost infanite. Like Dathron though Eve was simply beyond them. And so she continued to stroll the ship saving whoever was rebeling before trying to destroy the ship. If her telepathy was right the man was Longshot. The archer that led KOD, who fought Hex in the KOV and close to years ago fought Azrael in Boston briefly. Really though she didn't care to much if he lived or died. She just thought he might be helpfull in ending the struggle the planet faced.

Salvations Found In Sin

"Aldeon, bail out will you. This rock has seen its violence we came here to hurt Roxom we did. Where waisting time at the moment. Purge as much of Symarr that hovers above and then ready to truely end the race. Lets finish the empire before we target humanity best make the cut as deep as we can." The psychic call went out to the demonic prince that knew no equal in such a tital. And ofcourse the call was followed for starters it was the logical rout. It also was simply the will of the warp what Serenity said most chaos answered. If hell, not its ruler but the literal plain, had a lover it was Ren. Her will was pretty much apsolute in most demonic eyes. And so Aldeon and much of the demonic masses fled the planet. The raging fiends clawing back to the providence from which they came.

The Horror did come and it did seak to feed, it did find bio mass and it may find fruit to bury in. It however was not the mind of her father even if it had ties to him it was still not her father. The revitalized legend was elsewhere. What stood between Dathron and herself was but a monster a being of that bleak deity of hunger. And it was rebound between Dathron's arms. He tried to reason with it, order it to leave. It would not it sought to feed and tried to devour life from Dathron.  It was a monster and a hinderance but only that. Dathron tuged and held tight a strength possibly far exceeding that of over a hundred tons. The chains of sin aimed at Dathron were repeled by an uncany ability of telekenisis the likes only that star of energy above that cosmic thief could mimic. The chains were pushed away and so they came down and hooked into the tyranic figure. One pulled back the other foreward and there for the creature was riped in two. Two forces tuging on flesh and bone the result the Horror's tendril dead the worm a bloody mass on the ground. Perhaps it would  be the end of the tyranids perhaps not. The rain stopped though and was now a simple war of tuition. Demons and orks fled. Some of the greenskin remained but no more came. The tyranids ceased. The war that engulfed the world while still going was no longer a sea of endless forces.

"Dathron your forces wittle, that woman you sought to send off into exile. Returns spending all of herself to eviscrate your army. A litteral star assaulting your forces,  she is like you if you targeted your own men. For all their glory they hold no chance against her, she may not have the eternal flame and after this she may feal some restraints. In the present though she is a jugernought ravaging your very prized ship. Your army is without a general, my vengefull mother has taken her life and now sets to make a crusade of crushing what forces you have left. Shes blinded by bloodlust but its that lust that is destroying all you send forth. And if your second in command could not end her then it's not like anyone aside from you could. But your stuck here with me" Serenity paused steping into the carcass the two had just slain. Its blood seaming to be sucked into the princess on the spot. "No general, soon no ship, and dwindling forces. I really don't care if you live or die this just seams pointless why not just go?" She stopped there and readied for the answer.

If he agreed great this was done that was fine. If not though then came retaliation, chains that sought to rip apart much like she had tried before. Her other hand lacked with the dozen sickles she used against the golem that helped crush it along with the Horror those would join the assault against Dathron. With it she also simply poened portals and closed them. The rifts would open around limbs and apendages and that was fine. When snaped shut though it cut any apendage to pieces.  The tide of chaos had yielded it was simply time it all come to a close. And the warps daughter would see that come true.

"Die..." Dathron repeated with a rumbling in his throat almost akin to laughter, "Such an ugly word, and you mortals use it so hastily." He linked his thoughts with those of the traitorous ex-god as he spoke, responding to both her and the girl who stood before him, "You think I have not lost my ship before? You think my chief officer has never fallen in battle? It takes but a single world to replenish my forces, and I have one groveling at my feet, and millions more in the stars above. I grow tired of this interference. You, the Symaarian, the green insects, they have no business here. I wish only to save these mortals. Under me, they will live forever, they will know all the beauties of the cosmos. They will have their every desire if they express only the slightest inkling of humility, but you decide that their fate is to be one of bloodshed. You are cruel."

The harsh steel of the throne ship began to bend inward and mend itself. Meanwhile, Eve heard Dathron echoing in her ear. "You have taken power exponentially, but do you know anything of earning it? Nothing. You could not even accept your deserved exile with dignity. Are you so selfish that you see not how horrible a wrath you bring down upon your own planet? You may not be a god, but for once, express the grace of one. Leave. Leave this world until you understand what power truly means."

He turned his attention back to the girl at his feet and said, "You do not care if I live or die? That is good, because one of those paths is closed to me forever." He ignored the demon child's attacks and slowly rose up on a patch of floating Earth. "I cannot leave," he said, "Until my work is done. Seek your own path. Stay out of mine." With that, he rose up into the skies, clearing of debris and fog around him as he ascended into the flagship, under immediate repairs for his return.

UNITED, THEY FALL

A new wave of forces poured from the throne ship, a cloud of enemies freshly prepared for combat. Legionnaires sweeping the countryside had been summoned to Washington D.C. where one of the last true armies stood. Resistance forces were falling around the world, revolutions were broken, but this was the last assembly of a grand force of Humans making their stand against Dathron. He had no patience for them. The legionnaires arrived in perfect formation from all sides, war machines and snarling, savage beasts leading the charge and followed by waves of troops. From above came the new army. In the sky were hundreds of new legionnaires, but hardly any of them were the common breed. Many were massive, lumbering, and in need of flight harnesses considerably larger than the rest. Their distinct snarls made it apparent to any trained ear that they were orks. And in almost equal number with them were legionnaires freed from their bonds of brotherhood with the Keresh. Only a sparse number of former humans could be found in this new wave of troops, but they were armed, angry, and ready to be christened in the blood of their enemies.

"Die...You think I have not lost my ship before? You think my chief officer has never fallen in battle? It takes but a single world to replenish my forces, and I have one groveling at my feet, and millions more in the stars above. I grow tired of this interference. You, the Symaarian, the green insects, they have no business here. I wish only to save these mortals. Under me, they will live forever, they will know all the beauties of the cosmos. They will have their every desire if they express only the slightest inkling of humility, but you decide that their fate is to be one of bloodshed. You are cruel." Serenity shook her head before clearing the distance to look the diety in the eyes and on equal ground. Her natural pressence bringing about death withering plants and other things. Hopefully it would have a more fiendish effect on Dathron, he recovered alot fast though however so perhaps it wouldn't harm him. "For the record my mom was born here half demon of Earth half Symarian I have right to deffend this world. Really though Im just a devil of a girl looking for a good fight. The warp is an ocean wide realm of chaos its my world and your the best challenge I see to quell the chaos it wants me to bring. Its really that simple" she didn't want a conversation just to end this why couldn't Dathron just except this was pointless at best.

"You have taken power exponentially, but do you know anything of earning it? Nothing. You could not even accept your deserved exile with dignity. Are you so selfish that you see not how horrible a wrath you bring down upon your own planet? You may not be a god, but for once, express the grace of one. Leave. Leave this world until you understand what power truly means." Eve matched Dathron's efforts working to push the ship apart with same fortitude he had. They were equals like it or not and so a power strungle simply meant them going back and forth. Her silk like voice echoed in the both verbal and telepathic discussion. "Earn it my ability is derived on adaption and evolution. My very gene structure works and fights to become more than those against me. You wan't a speach allow me a second to get back to the same playing field?" With that she worked to finish her one person war on the ship.

She had made way to where Longshot had been where the Legion forces were constructed. If the archer was there and needed help she would be quick to do so. It would be good to get any help possible but she didn't need it. Otherwise if diversion of strength to keep someone alive it was simple destruction of the place. Either way she would relaease as much nuclear and kinetic force as possible. The hope being to destroy as much of the generator and ship as possible. Complete devastation or just a mundane damage for Dathron to repair like he always did it didn't matter. Either way the blond artificial human joined the raven haired monstrosity. Perhaps Longshot had joined them and perhaps not."You do not care if I live or die? That is good, because one of those paths is closed to me forever, I cannot leave. Until my work is done. Seek your own path. Stay out of mine." With her own decadent abilities Serenity destroyed the rock beneath him. Probably wouldn't drop the god to the earth but it made a point. Neither of the women were going anywhere.

"I have every reason to fight for humanity as they made me. My friends, my semblance of family my world. You say you provide eternity, you do so with servitude. You say they get all they wish to have. In all this fighting I've only seen your patheon's show rational thought and they seam to have sacrificed all individuality to apease you. This isn't eternal youth or freedom." With that the two responded in unsion a single harmonous attack. Serenity sought to cage him in portals leading into the hell that was the warp. At the same time Evie burst it with a miniture nuclear blast. An effort to blow him apart while attempting also to banish him to an endless realm of calamity where godhood wouldn't matter.

They weren't possitive that could work though Dathron had shown to be annoying in what his people could take and so the two continued to attack. A flurry of chains sought to encase the god sure to dig through flesh if they touched the god. The tearing that came sure to rip near anything apart, the chains also pulled Serenity in where she could aim to impale the god on a thin devilish blade. Meanwhile Syapt sought to bound the deity to the ground with an immeasurable bond of gravity. Holding him there hopefully as the pair attacked him Evie placing the same kinetic force that Dathron used around him. This was to prevent simple rejection of the attacks as he had used so consistantly. With it she put as much force behind her hand to rival that of the god and hurl into the gods dome.  She could feal it allready this exertion of force might ravage her cells later on. For now though the fight had to go. Evie wasn't going to see Peter lose everything to this pest, Salem wasn't to be deprived her wrath by this egotistic fool. Serenity however was just in it for blood.

Kin By Battle

Perhaps Evie had made a dent in the numbers with her wrath in the skies and her final effort to destroy the ship. Succeed or fail however more of the Legion forces were formed and heading towards Washington where the general had fallen. The fight had yielded but another was simply sent there way. And so the mix band of military, Keresh, Symarrians, Teres the breed Azrael had adopted into Symarrian regime, and the various people who simply didn't want to give way stood ready.  Beasts swarmed the lands legion troops flooded the skies they were clearly not the casual forces though that was a given. Large barely standing forces aproached ork clearly. The humans were mostly lost in the mass replaced by thousands of orks and even some Keresh. It didn't matter though the forces to attack her and the rest would perish.

Blair in her inferno like wrath made short work of many on the spot. Primarily ork troops the rest could be managed if need be. By now the soldiers of mixed races fighting for this planet knew their ways around alot of the soldiers. Where to shoot what kind of fire links were needed and so on. With hundreds for every one of them there was bound to be some losses. They could take it though Azra wasn't going to lose it was that simple and Ravek had her back. This world belonged if anything to Tenebra, her adopted family. And for them and Kastiel and Hex her remaining children she would kill any and all to oppose her.

The chains lashed out at Dathron. Some even dared to take hold of him. They were strong, no doubting that, and each struggled to pull him into the warp. He balled up, gathering his strength, and suddenly lashed outward in a devastating burst of the Eternal Flame. The chains melted just enough for him to break free, and he weathered the attacks of the two lunatics below him, recovering on the occasions that they were so fortunate as to pierce his flesh. At last, he rose higher into the sky. "I grow tired of this petty debate." He turned his gaze directly to Serenity, "I believe your mother requires some assistance."

The Master God turned from the two and rose up towards the throne ship, all the while repressing the explosion and mending the immediate damage. He set foot in his throne room and walked back down the steps, his feet landing a full foot above the ground. He arrived at the well, gazing with silent admiration at the Eternal Flame, dancing in its divine aura. "If only they could see you." he remarked, "If only they could understand."

Dathron was interrupted as an arrow burst against his head. He gazed to the source of the insult, but the shadow cast by the Flame in the rafters of the room concealed his attacker. Fate would give him no sign of the fool's whereabouts.

"I know you are here." he said at long last, "I know you have come to fight me. That's all you've ever done, fight. You never had the good sense to admit when your foe's cause was just and yours was futile."

"Saving lives is never futile, Dathron." echoed a voice through the chamber, "But how could you understand? All you know is destruction."

"Destruction?" asked Dathron, "I have destroyed nothing. I extended an offer to your people, and instead, you forced my hand. Look out on the devastation, remember the friends you've lost. It is all made possible by your collective ignorance. All the destruction is because of you. But that's all YOU know, isn't it, Paxton? Murder." Another arrow struck him in the back, exploding on impact like the previous one. He ignored it. The archer grew sloppy. His anger was taking hold of him. His weakness was guiding his hand towards failure. The arrow came this time from a different trajectory, and the odd acoustics of the chamber made it impossible to trace the source of the shooter's voice as he spoke, "You could've left. You could've accepted that we didn't want your 'enlightenment', and just left. You didn't have to force this on us. You're the cruel one, not us."

"And to deny yourself of this enlightenment is humane? That is far more cruel than the annihilation of the heretic."

Another two arrows exploded against his chest and his fist became aglow with the Flame. "You DARE strike me?!" he bellowed, refusing to tolerate this any longer. He could respect the demon child and the false god. At least they had enough power for him to face them with honor. This mortal's assaults were simply an insult. "I am Dathron! The one who fell beyond reality! I have stared into the pure embers of eternity! I AM A GOD!"

A long silence followed, at last broken by a simple reply, "No. You're not a god. Just a tyrant with more power than he knows what to do with. You've got a head full of absurd ideals, and you've managed to trick a lot of people into believing you. You're worse than a heretic. You're delusional."

Dathron cried out in rage as he unleashed the Flame from his eyes into the dark corner of the ceiling. Longshot dove from the shadows, twirling around the Flame and narrowly dodging it as he landed on the floor across from Dathron. The archer cast aside his bow. He was wearing gauntlets belonging to one of Dathron's soldiers. There was a white circle at the top of the gauntlet and a vein that connected it to a similar circle on the back of the hand. He ran toward Dathron, and Dathron let him come. He did not care what the archer did, for no attack in his arsenal could hurt him, certainly not these armored gloves.

The archer punched relentlessly at Dathron, each blow primed by a jolt of concussive force springing forth from the knuckles. Dathron's head moved side to side casually with each swipe. His expression did not change, even as an armored fist landed upon his cheek. Over and over, Longshot struck him, until fragments of armor began to fall away from the fingers. It was chipping with each blow, and he kept going. He reared back for one last, grand punch, and as he flung his fist forward, Dathron simply raised his hand, outstretched his arm, and all the armor of the fist shattered on impact. Longshot stepped back, discarding the wrecked gauntlets. Dathron took one thundering step forward and he was over the archer. He passively raised his gloved hand and gently flicked his finger into the archer's chest.

The carbon fiber plating in his coat shattered and Longshot was cast across the room, finally rolling as he landed harshly on the ground. He lay twisted and broken, still as if dead. Finally, he came back with a loud gasp and a chain of agonizing coughs. His ribs were shattered, his lung collapsed. He lay on the floor and could only watch with a cold chill of dread as Dathron's shadow descended upon him. The Master God reached down and took hold of the black and golden crest that connected the four straps of the archer's quiver. He lifted Longshot by it and quickly slammed him down into the floor. The archer's quiver helped to absorb some of the impact, but the attack was nonetheless effective. Dathron kept hold of the crest and used it to slide Longshot in the direction of the pit. His broken body came to a stop eight feet away from the well housing the Eternal Flame, and he lay there, shattered in every possible way, defeated.

Unfortunately, Dathron was far from finished. He walked up to his broken opponent and looked down on him with the grace and the disdain of a more evolved life form. He cast off his cloak once again and stepped forward. Longshot raised his hand in an attempt to beg for a refrain, as he could no longer muster words. However, Dathron had no use for mercy on such a specimen. A pillar of Flame escaped his eyes, not even a fraction of its full intensity, but enough to completely incinerate half of the archer's hand. "AAAAAH!" Longshot cried, holding his wrist and writhing in absolute agony. With his right arm, he clawed desperately at the ground. He was shivering, going into shock. His mask was torn and one could see the bloodshot nature of his right eye. Despite the incredible stabbing pains in his chest, he crawled away from Dathron. The display was pitiful, and Dathron showed his distaste by obliterating Longshot's legs. Once again, the archer screamed, but he gathered himself and, coming apart at the seems, he dragged himself away. There was no escaping Dathron, but keeping in line with his nature, he had to try.

On a tired, shaking arm, Longshot dragged his body, or what was left of it, across the floor of the well chamber. His lip quivered and he did everything he could to keep from looking down at the remnants of left hand. He could feel Dathron's presence behind him. The god had no heartbeat, he made no sound, but his presence screamed out to any conscious being. He was watching Longshot, letting him struggle like a spider stripped of its legs. Longshot crawled until he was near the rim of the well, the golden rays of the Flame shining up over the rim. He came to rest there, laying his head to the floor. His breathing was slow, and getting slower.

The archer lay there, gasping, dying. He thought back on his life, on all the good he'd done to cover up all the evil. He remembered the friends he'd made along the way, he thought of where they must be now, captured by the legion or hiding, dreading the monsters that so hungrily pursued them. He thought of Melissa, and how many people she was responsible for. She couldn't last much longer. Her ship was no doubt under siege, soon to fall at the hands of the legion. He remembered all that, and knew what had to be done.

"H-How much does it... take, Dathron?" he asked, raising his head slightly and looking to the well up ahead, "How... how much of this fire does it take to.... to turn someone into a god? A handful?" He began crawling once again, miserably dragging himself until he reached the rim. He looked down into the well, staring awestruck at the glorious Flame twisting and burning below, a veritable sea of unrelenting power. With his good hand, he reached out, as if to touch it. He felt no heat from it, almost as if it was welcoming him. With one last, desperate stroke, he plunged his hand into it/ The Flame began flooding into him. "This gives you the power of a god?" he asked as his eyes became aglow. His body began to thrash as the shock of the power took hold. He raised his other hand high into into the air. Suddenly, particles in the air surrounding it began to burn a brilliant gold and converged on the scorched remnants of his hand, assembling in great number until they took the shape of fingers. The same began to happen for his legs, a bright light restoring them from the thigh all the way down.

The archer stood, not breaking the stream of power that flowed into him. Dathron watched, thinking to himself that it was impossible. "The power of a thousand suns?" Longshot snarled as he rose up off the ground, "Then give it to me! ALL OF IT!" Suddenly, the Flame burst out all around him. It began flooding into him faster and faster. In New York, the wreckage of the Empire Sate Building began to float off the ground. It set down back in its place, and the smaller fragments began to reassemble. All around the world, the major destruction was beginning to restore itself. Much was still left in ruin, but the greatest of the devastation was mending. Longshot clenched his fists and the deed was done. Soon, the entire well was consumed hole, and Longshot had been converted into an entity of pure light. He had gone beyond mortal, beyond champion, beyond god.

"This cannot be." Dathron refused. Longshot floated before him. "You could not have predicted this, Dathron." said Paxton in a majestic, echoing voice, "You speak with Fate, but I AM FATE!" He let out another wave of power and bore down on the Master God with the same resentment that just a moment ago was given to him. "I hold a greater control over the unfolding of reality than even you."

The golden entity descended down to Dathron's level. He put his hand up to the Master God's chest. "And guess how I'm going to use it?" Without warning, he struck his palm against Dathron's chest and the god was sent flying back, crashing through the wall. He did so through half the ship, until he finally came to a stop. He stood up in the rubble and picked up the fragments of steel with his mind. He cast them all at Longshot, but they burned up upon getting anywhere near him. Dathron took flight and sped head on to drive his fist through Longshot. Unfortunately, he was brought to a halt midair before he could touch the archer, and was flung up into the ceiling. As he came back down, he cupped his fists together and bashed Longshot in the face, following it immediately by a burst of fire from his eyes. Longshot hardly minded the attack, and returned it with a burst from his own eyes, which sent Dathron careening through the walls once again. He crashed through the nose end of the flagship, and caught on to the ledge.

Longshot drifted through the halls, arms out in a grand display as everything around him was set aflame. Beams crashed from the ceiling, walls melted the ship began crumbling down. It was the same for every other ship in Dathron's armada, all across the globe. The flagship, which was now hovering over the Arctic, bowed and began falling to the Earth. Dathron looked up to see the archer floating just above him.

"Your fleet is destroyed." he announced, "You're lesser gods have been stripped of their power and banished to the last world you destroyed. It's over."

Dathron looked up at the archer, absolutely glowing with power, so bright that a normal man would be blinded in his presence. The archer said that it was over. Dathron's expression made it fairly clear that it was not.

"I grow tired of this petty debate." Again despite equal strength and power against him the simple mathematics of there being two of them and one of him lost its logical concept. Still Dathron had shruged off another attack and looked towards the princess of the warp. The very woman giving Evie imunities to disease as everything around her withered and died was addressed. "I believe your mother requires some assistance." With that the god of gods left to his ship and left thinking they could simply be ignored. Some god king, his arogance and binds to the same simplictic realm as so many was clear in that act. Evie turned to the monster at her side. Curious to see how she took the news.

"I don't need to run off after her she can handle herself. Besides that I don't have a mother or father anymore. Im the fiend the creature of the darkness and all around mistress of hell itself. I have little to any need to be on this planet anymore. Lets finish this" with that the dark being teleported the two to the ship. Ready to back whoever it was in front of them though he hardly looked like he needed it. He labeld himself fate in and of itself really the pair didn't care they were simply to see that Dathron died. Ready to give everything simply to see things end.

"A being comes and naturally rivales you. A girl dies and becomes equivalent to you, and a single broken archer takes all you are and becomes more. You came here and they brought armies from countless worlds to contend against you a true legion. Not composed of single creation mimiced a million times. But rather a sea of people and aliens fighting with individual ambition and drive. They are mortal and so they fight harder than anything you have despite superior strength and knowledge free will slays the masses you bring. Imortalized not by vitality but drive. They can't die because the hope thrives forever and is passed on. They live forever because they refuse to break to people like yourself." With that the two stepped beside Longshot ready to lend a hand if need be.

Longshot hurled a ball of Flame into Dathron's face, mainly to insult him. The fires of creation left a black scorch on his face, which quickly mended. The Flame slithered out of the entity's fingertips and wrapped like tendrils around Dathron's chest, pulling him up to Longshot's level. He struggled to break free, but he had to come to the realization that someone now held his power greater then he ever could. It burned in Longshot, almost too strongly to contain. He stopped the throne ship from crashing into the barren icy fields, the steel incinerating and scattering to the wind. "That power... not even a god deserves that much power, archer... nor can he endure it. It will eat you alive."

Longshot, in his featureless, gleaming visage, simply raised his fist, now glowing as he directed an immense level of power into it. "I only need it long enough to do this." he said calmly, voice echoing into eternity. He punched Dathron, a burst of the Flame erupting around him. The blow was devastating, even for him. Longshot pulled the god closer. "That one was for Earth." he snarled, "We've got two million, one thousand and eighty six to go." He reared back his fist again just as two women arrived behind him. He had been so swept up in the moment that he had forgotten they were supposed to intervene. He spun around to face them, his burning aura only intensified as he bellowed with the fury of a million gods, "STAY OUT OF THIS!" He raised a hand to incinerate them both, but just before he unleashed it, he realized what he was about to do. He lowered his hand and buried his anger. This power was corrupting him. He had to finish this.

"Get down there and help the wounded. If I come back here and you're causing trouble, it will not end well." he warned. The entity slowly took flight, Dathron held in his clutches. At last, he allowed the flagship to finally and completely disintegrate. He sent out a message to all the world telling them to rest easy, and for anyone with power to step up and help dispose of the remaining legionnaires, and begin the cleanup. In a calming voice, he reassured them that not another person would die this day. The sky began to clear, and the sun shone through the dissipating cloud of battle. It was time to wake up from the nightmare.

He and Dathron vanished into the sky. The battle of universes was now narrowed down to two gods. Here, it would finally end.

Dathron drifted in the grip of the now omnipotent archer. He looked on him not with disdain, but fascination, almost as if he should be bowing down. His arms were bound behind his back by dark chains, and his legs were bound in a similar fashion. The stars were the only features in the void visible to mortal eyes, but to these two immortals, everything could be seen.

"I suppose I should be glad." said the Master God, "The Pit has finally chosen a greater emissary than I for its divine cause."

"No." the archer echoed, "This power will not be mine for long. As soon as I return to Earth, I am expelling it. I will not become a messenger for a cause that you've used to bring so much destruction. Face it, Dathron. Your crusade has come to an end."

Dathron roared, thrashing in his chains. They shook, they trembled, but they did not break. They did not strain. His eyes burned red and his howls of rage grew louder, but he got no closer to freedom.

Longshot crossed his arms, watching Dathron struggle. “Those chains are made of dwarf star matter. I forged them in the Eternal Flame of the Pit. Not even you can break them.”

Dathron ceased his struggling. He gave an audible sigh, resigning his attempts to escape. He looked up at the glowing God who hovered in space before him. “And what do you intend to do with me now?” he asked.

With a wave of Longshot's hand, a sliver of everlasting fire sliced across space and a hole was torn in reality far behind them. The portal swirled, burning brightly until it descended into complete darkness. “I’m sending you to a place outside the Universe, a hole in reality too dark for even the Flame to light. I’ll leave you there to rot, alone, until the end of time.”

“You of all should know, archer, time has no end!" Dathron proclaimed angrily, "All life in the cosmos may parish, all of existence may be bound in darkness, but time will go on… and I will live forever.”

Longshot looked on passively, his eyes too bright to be seen on his face. Still, Dathron could realize the stern expression on the glowing, featureless face of the God as he spoke, “I know. I’ll make sure that you do.”

Dathron's eyes grew cold. His muscles relaxed in the unbreakable chains, and at long last, he whispered, as if it were absolute, irrevocable fact, “This is not the end.”

“Yes..." Longshot replied, "It is.” With that, Dathron began his descent down into the portal. He began his fall into perdition. As he was cast down, he did not avert his eyes from the God. Hate swelled in him with every inch he traveled. Without warning, he let out a blast of the Flame at Longshot, a last act of defiance from a god doomed to oblivion. The God hardly minded the attack. The fires of creation shattered like water upon rock when an invisible shield was erected before him. The Flame would not hurt him, but he wouldn't give Dathron the satisfaction of knowing that his futile blow made contact.

Dathron fell and fell. He reached the smoldering precipice of the portal and was pulled in, the hole in reality sealing shut as he fell. Only one last spiteful glance of his bottomless red eyes escaped before the portal was shut entirely, sealing him in forever.

Longshot bid his rival a silent ado and turned away, beginning his return to Earth. There were a few affairs that needed to be dealt with before this could truly end.

Colaboration By Blood

A call rang out for all to hear. A message to all that the blood red skies were now clear. Not one person needed to remain standing in fear. From Champions of Peace to Knights of Dawn to Trinity to Tenebrasque In. All were given a chance to step forth, the angel would call forth friends to nolonger maintane security of the people but to fight the darkness. The witch would call to friends and family asking them to step forward and quiet the masses brought on by the tyrant of a god. Having been with the Vine Syndicate the child of Death would try and message Mr Mercury asking him to step forward with his family in Trinity lashing out to Dathron. The ninja like assassin would call forth Fox Company and old friends of the disbanded Militia. And the headless rider requested S.I.B join her. This set of people were tied to eachother in some ties seen and some not. Regardless this wave of people took a stand and hopefully many of those around them would do so as well.

Atlantic Ocean-Syapt nodded to devilish princess that was Serenity. The young monstrosity sought to depart and move back to the side of Aldeon. Eve had other things to attend to there was a U.N fleet outthere surounded by floating bodies and twisted metal a frantic war flooding the waters. Her body couldn't continue the energy output it was attempting to put forth. Soon she would have to watch her choice of attacks and how much she put forward. Untill then Evie was an assailant on any and all forces remaining from burning away fleets to carving bloody paths through legionairs. The gods were removed through Longshot's chance to use the eternal flame. With that the odds were finally in humanities favor and against Evie they were barely anything to her. The glowing neon colored figure with finesse and brutality went through her chaotic work.

Japan-Andromeda the electric blue and black hair bobed as the cyborg finaly could take a stand. At the time she had been borded up in a videogame shop performing medical acts for wounded teens and kids. The message came though and finaly Dahlia could have some fun. Reaching into her back pack she produced the gatling gun she had Overkill get her. A trio of the turrets placed into a single weapon. Drom had it customised to her colar scheme and a slightly shorter set of barels. This allowed a greater flexibility for the cyberpunk. Attatching the weapon to her arm and holding it up with her left hand the young tech priest steped into the streets. Cars were blown apart and flipped over, flames dancing along the busy streets and ruined city scape. Electric eyes guided the heavy weapon walls of bullets droping the soldiers mixed fused and bread to be a potent force.

Iceland-Zulu the crazy violet haired woman known to most as Azylum, or just that crazy violet haired woman joined her family in fighting Dathron. Iceland was her home it belonged to Tenebra and the rage filled lunatic was not going to lose it. On a frantic field of battle Elliot painted a scene of decadence every kick every slash brought about a withering effect. Masses fell under the hammer of darkness. She might of been confusing and strange but like so many meta humans Zulu was going to fight the hoard. Ocasionally parting from slashing through enemies to be the ecentric oddity she was. Her violet atire accenting her frame as she performed a happy dance. Despite the fact death and destruction was going on all around her.

New France-Hex after parting ways with her mother Salem had gone to France. Her hope was to take some comfort in her family. Kastiel her brother and Cassidy her aunt tended to live there. While the resurected city may have been one of the better deffended places like everywhere else in the world it saw the maw of war. Hex was quick to retaliate with or without the call to arms. Bolter rifles barked as the witch warped ammunition and steadied her arms and vectors to serve as a lethal spray of percise assault. Bounding from roof top to roof top the teen littered the streets with bodies. No legionair was to escaper her sight particularly those of human and ork design. The vengefull daughter of Roxom laying waste to any and all those around her.

Champions Island-Requiem like many of the Champions Destiny wanted to keep the people safe. Her focus being on guarding the entrance to where survivors were heald. A solemn prayer was being said with a young boy who had eyes wide of fear. That was when the woman dressed in white rose to her feet. In a small cloud of crstal like mist of light her wings extended from her back. Her halo around her neck a aw inspiring light as the angel drew her scythe. The blade both Azrael and herself had a version of, "the blight is over you have no need to fear my child." Her finger graced the boys cheak and the entire room fealt a semblance of hope. With that her wings fluttered swiftly lifting the angel to the fight waged in the skies of the city known for the heroes dwelling with in. A devine spear head for all those steping up to confront what masses lived. Today there was no rightious people fighting for good nor fiends of terror out to seek tyrany. They were one mass of people standing against the storm and they were going to push it back.

Boston-Bloodcroft Fera and Nira had been hanging out in Boston buying clothes, and they didn't tell dad but mom also gave them money for each to buy a gun or two. Fera the wild eyed teen had gone with a shotgun and in the battle had put it to good use. Nira on the other hand was one to buy a AR15 with a military like efficency they laid waste to any and all that fought them. Two against the world and doing well against it. That was untill one of the larger units hurled a car at the twins. News paper peppered the air as the two bloody teens got to their feets. Their eyes were lit up and flame billowing from their mouthes, there bodies starting to contort and disfigure. Dathron's troops had gone and pissed the twins off and now they were going to refuse to do anything that could be considered holding back.

Germany-Bloodstone stepped from the castle door, the lush green plains around her still held there beauty. Germany may of seen a hoard of monstrous aliens but it was not without its knights. Was anyone going to join her on this dawn of a new tomarow Selene had no clue still she steped forward and readied herself for another conflict. Her body was covered in armor made of blood the rock hard acidic atire accented her small frame. In her hand her katana had become relatable to a claymore. The same armor making up a marger more potent blade. Dathron forces rasied weapons against her, no doubt there were more of them than of her. She was the immortal martyr however this was simply another day for the raven haired knight.

Korea-Razor had radioed to her old allies of the Militia and to her friends of Fox Company. She had no clue if they would join her. Still she shot off an envite to enter the raging battle that took place. Korea was no stranger to war and having heard the call a final push was given as men raised rifles and took up positions to take out the hoard venturing forth. Tanks rumbled in streets as they began bursting the skies and roads with artillery fire. And in the chaotic war Rayne let herself go, skin sharp as blades every part of her to make contact caused harm. Kinetic charged blades slamed into targets and exploded new weapons produced on the spot. One legionair tried to get the drop on her spining on the ball of her heal Rayne drove her fist clear through the alien figure. A sharp jerk and her arm was pulled free. Nobody was going to lose the planet after coming this far. Somewhere in New York Desiray the woman known as Spitfire was fighting just as hard. Rayne didn't remember much of her from surgies she did know one thing however. She would not let that woman be a victim to this darkness nor would she let Oz either.

Washington-Azra plucked her chainswords from the last of the ork Dathron forces. Hours had passed sence the call but it was finally over the planet was still belonging to those born upon it. From the devils to the angels the police to the killers all had fought to keep freedom. Cities all around the world had toppled buildings and chaotic streets but repairs could be made in time. Blood and corpses decorated streets and buildings from all the fighting. Jets helicopters cars and space craft all coated the air with flame and smoke. None of the past few days had been easy but it did not go without its profits. Alezra huged Ravek as he took off to attend to his own matters. And the woman's head droped her hair faded back to its crimson red and her eyes lost their inferno. Skin faded back to its usual pale hue, the black tattoos of dark gods and scripture faded away. Her armor was in pieces her skin catching rays of light the blood that cacked her body glittered to an extent. And in this moment despite the bloody joys of war, despite having her daughters killer's head as a skull necklace, despite proving her ideals right. The wife of Roxom could only manage a single tear to roll from her cheek and drop to earth. No pride or rejoicment came for her in this apocalyptic fray.

Like a tear of the sun, Longshot's glowing frame fell back through the atmosphere. He looked out on Earth. From the moment he returned to the solar system, he continued his repairs. He could only repair the major devastation, and sweep away the remnants of the legion. Crashed ships were lifted out of the sides of buildings, the holes sealing as the wreckage reassembled, as if the destruction were being played out in reverse. Still, the world remained in shambles from Dathron's assault. Only through the involvement of the Keresh, the Orks and countless other extra-terrestrial threats were the Humans even able to resist him for so long, and only through sheer fortune was the Master God's defeat possible.

Longshot descended to the Pacific Ocean. The peeled open side of a U.N. vessel folded shut on his command and a trail of water snaked through the air, over the deck, and back into the ocean as the ship was lifted back to level standing on the sea. The crew, as well as dozens of civilians, raced onto the deck. The ships commander forced her way through the bustling crowd, trying to get closer to what they were all staring up at with such fascination. She shouldered her way to the front and looked upon a glowing figure, too bright to identify, and yet, she could recognize the levitating deity beyond any doubt. "Oh my god..." she whispered, almost bereft of her speech. Longshot lowered to her level, setting foot on the deck. Everyone stepped back in fear at this thing they did not understand.

Her blue eyes shimmered in the presence of the ex-mortal. With fear and uncertainty in her heart, she drew closer, reaching out a hand. She hit an invisible wall. A slight tilt of Longshot's head made it fairly clear he was protecting her from incinerating herself. "So, it's true." she said, "You took his power."

"More than that, Melissa." Longshot declared, "I became more than he could ever be. I'm holding on, barely. But don't worry, Dathron's gone. It's over."

"Agent Hannigan!" a voice called out as Umbra flew over the crowd and came to land at her side. Even behind his mask, his eyes were evidently wide in shock. "Longshot!" he exclaimed, "What... what's it like? The power, I mean."

As someone who had, until moments ago, not known an ounce of power, the noble God understood his friend's curiosity. "It's like trying to ride a bull without using your hands." he explained, "I'm not describing it as best I can. There's a dead language from the Illion Sot dynasty that would describe it better, but there's no time. I'm losing control. It has to go."

Longshot stretched his arms out wide and took a deep breath as the light began to dissipate. It retreated from his fingertips, draining down to a single, concentrated well in the center of his chest. Finally, the light over his heart faded away and he fell, too weak to stand in his sudden return to mortality. As he faltered, Melissa and Umbra were there to catch him. He caught his breath. It felt as if all the tasks he had done so effortlessly with the Eternal Flame inside him were now catching up to him, exhausting his stamina. Even the act of expelling the power was an arduous task. As his breath returned to him, he whispered, "I can never have power again... if I do... I don't think I'm coming back."

"Come on." said Umbra, signalling for Agent Hannigan to help him drag the archer to the infirmary below deck, "You need to rest."

"Wait...." Longshot muttered. He shrugged them off and staggered back. The crowd cleared around them and put his hands over his stomach, trying to stay on his feet. "What's wrong?" Melissa asked. He gave no answer.

"Longshot... Longshot, answer us! What's wrong?!" Umbra asked, growing frightened.

The archer began to scream, lashing around in agony. Suddenly, he burst into light once again, the Flame encompassing him and burning brighter than before. It had returned with a vengeance, and his pain ridden howls showed that it was burning him. Without relent, it grew brighter, it grew hotter. The ground beneath his feet began to turn red.

"I can't stop it!" the archer cried. He kept thrashing, moving the people away with his thoughts to keep them from burning in his ever-growing aura.

"Longshot, what can we do to help you?" Melissa asked frantically.

"You can't stop it!" Longshot cried, “Dathron was planning on this! He wanted it to happen! He wanted all the Flame to be inside one host, to have it burn me up until it was all that was left! The Eternal Flame converted into a living entity! Pure, thoughtless, chaotic power! It was his failsafe, if he couldn’t conquer the Universe, he’d have me destroy it!”

"You mean..." Umbra began, but he was cut short by Longshot's booming, godlike voice, "No! I won't let that happen! I'm still the host! I'm still in control! I can still save everyone!" Before another word could be spoken, Longshot's feet lifted off the ground and, faster than lightning, he shot into the sky, bursting through a portal he had constructed for himself. A trail of light and heat remained in his wake for some time. The people below waited, and prayed.

The host of the Flame was dying. His power was growing exponentially, burning him away until it could work of its own accord. He burst through the portal. Awaiting him was a dark void, space where not a single star could be seen, utter blackness, utter despair. This would be his canvas. With only moments to spare, he balled up and, with a bellowing roar, exploded outward, unleashing the Flame like a mighty river. It poured from him. In seemingly endless waves it was evacuated from its host, and as it drifted into the blackened void, it transformed. The fires of creation twisted into stars, thousands of suns filling the sky, lighting this dark corner of the Universe. A brilliant tapestry of stars in an otherwise dismal hollow. That would be his last act as a God. The power had left him. The archer, the lowly, human archer, was left drifting in a vacuum. Naturally, he was pulled down into the portal, and as his unconscious body passed through the threshold, it fell through the cloud layer and back towards the Earth.

A BURIAL OF HEROES

Along the aisle of cement and iron, a stretch of New York City that had been fully restored in quite a hurry for the purposes to follow, a massive tide of people stood around. The crowd was dense, stretching back for almost a mile, and a row parted them all the way down, leading to the large stage at the end of the line. Each spectator had their head bowed in reverence and solemnity. All around the world, people were watching on their televisions, or holding ceremonies of their own. At a slow pace, President of the United States Barrack Obama took the stage. He was not applauded, and he did not wave to the crowds. Even in light of Earth's salvation, this was not a day for celebration. He stood behind the podium and cleared his throat.

"My fellow Americans..." he began, "My fellow human beings. Today should be a day for celebration. Once again, Earth has risen from under the oppressive heel... of an alien despot. Dathron seduced many of our people with his offerings of power, but in the end, with the aide of our other-worldly and metahuman allies, we overcame. We survived. However, our victory is tainted by loss. The death toll... has not yet been confirmed. Countless civilians were captured and turned into members of Dathron's legion. Others were gunned down in their attempts to find safety, and we all remember those we lost on these past few days." The President bowed his head and wiped a tear from his eye. He rose up again and continued, "But this is not only a day to mourn friends. It is a day to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice. We gratefully thank the Keresh and the Symaarians for their aide, but we remember that this victory could not have happened... if not for the altruism... the selfless acts... of ordinary men and women. These people rose up against titans, against immortals, and they fought for their freedom. They did all they could to overcome unconquerable odds. They gave their lives for us, and we owe ours to them. Metahumans, aliens, and ordinary people alike..." Soldiers in formal dress marched down the long aisle, bearing poles on a seemingly endless train of coffins. Behind them, families and friends carried earns containing their fallen friends. "Today, we honor our heroes."

The President's words echoed across the world as countless fallen heroes were laid to rest. It was a day when tears stained the dust. "Our world is still reeling from the damage of the battle." said the President, "Our cultures have nearly been lost in this inquisition, but we will rebuild." Superhumans around the world hoisted wreckage and flew steel beams up to the top of buildings around the world. "We will create... a new world culture. In time, the wounds of war will heal, and when they do, our world will be stronger for it. We have all lost. We have all suffered in these dark times, and we are united in our loss, and we are united in our desire to thrive, to make ourselves a brighter tomorrow, not as citizens of our countries, or citizens of our planet, but citizens of our Universe. And together, we will get there. Because of the sacrifices of heroes, we will live on, and we will reach our utopia." With that, the President gave a nod and walked off stage.

THE HEALING BEGINS

In a hospital in San Diego, the press gathered in a hallway, clamoring for a comment or a photograph. A doctor with short brown hair and a beard, wearing glasses, came out to confront them. "Excuse me!" he called out, obviously irritated by the press gathering, "Excuse me! I'm Longshot's personal physician! He'll be giving no comments! No one is getting in there! He hasn't even regained consciousness yet, and he has a long healing process ahead of him, so get out!" he stormed off, slamming the door behind him as he muttered, "Damn vultures..."

He entered a room with the shades drawn. His patient lay in bed, his skin gnarled and scarred. However, that was an old injury. His eyes drifted open, and the sounds and smells distinct to hospitals assaulted him, pulling him into alertness. "Hey, doc." he whispered weakly, "What... what...?"

"Easy..." said the doctor, "You've been out for a week. The, eh, 'Eternal Flame' isn't exactly taught in med school, so I wasn't sure what I was dealing with when I started. Extreme fatigue, bordering on a heart attack. You nearly destroyed your body with that stuff. Thank god your friend caught you before you hit the ground."

There was a knock at the door and the doctor glanced through the shades, opening the door. "You've got visitors." he declared. Illuminated by the flash of cameras, Ozzy Winters and Melissa Hannigan shuffled into the room. Ozzy pulled down the hood of his jacket as he entered the room. Melissa was wearing street clothes. "Hey, man." said Ozzy, "How ya feelin'?"

"Like I was hit by a train." Paxton replied, wiping his eye. They both pulled up chairs at his bedside.

"Thanks for gettin' here so fast, doc." said Melissa.

"No trouble," replied the doctor, "Even if he hadn't saved my life, I'd be glad to be his doctor. The world's only got a handful of people like you, Longshot. I'm not gonna let one of them die if I have anything to say about it."

"So, Paxton..." Melissa said, putting her hand on his, "Now that it's all over, now that you're head's clear, would you mind telling us what it was like? I mean, to have that kind of power, to know everything, what was it like?"

Paxton's nostrils flared as he stared up at the ceiling. "I didn't just know everything," he answered, "I WAS everything. I could feel myself reach into every moment in time, every facet of reality, and become entwined with it. I was the Universe... I was God."

THE END

Dedicated to the memory of Jack Kirby, 1917-1994. Long live the King.