If there was ever a moment to serve as the culmination to every assault the Brahma Bull has launched on American soil, every pillage of targeted cities, it was his imminent ingress in Washington DC. Fueled by an evolutionarily-fueled ideology of the most radical declarations, the Brahma Bull believed, that man-made laws were fabricated concepts used to hold back the few genetically superior individuals, that chaos and disorder went hand in hand with one true law decreed by nature itself, that in a world dictated by ruthlessness and ever-present danger, the strongest will uncover a means of survival, and the weaklings? They shall perish.
This was to be the Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare's new world, his anarchist utopia governed only by one law, 'Survival of the Fittest'. And so he who was once صفر, a monstrous Goliath identified by forgotten Arcani legends as 'Strigidae Zero', the precursor to those who don the iconic title, marched forward, an unyielding trail of carnage to be left in his wake. His army of fanatical followers was segmented. The movement of one gargantuan unit was a tactically ill-equipped approach incompatible with the demands of guerrilla warfare's insistence in implementing smaller units of greater maneuverability. One portion, the armed paramilitary mutant radicals that had become his most iconic cronies, was led by his least expendable follower, the Autocrat, who sought to enter the American metropolis from one side.
The undead warriors raised by the Harbinger of Death however, were led by his most fanatical crony, Strigidae 100, their attention remained on locating a secondary entry into their target city. While the Brahma Bull, the vile Gothic City Nightmare rode the hulking, Pale Horse of biblical significance. It was large and powerfully built, yet its flesh was decayed, rotting like the body of a waning corpse. Its color was pallid, mirroring the sickly pallor of the dead. Mounting his supernatural beast, the Brahma Bull rode, a taciturn black mist, a rolling onyx fog followed behind him as the leviathan extremist led those rallied to his side into yet another night of carnage. The Autocrat commanded genetically gifted guerrilla soldiers, while Strigidae 100's word was law among the undead terrorists he led.
Accompanying the Brahma Bull however, were monsters, nightmare creatures of unrelenting savagery and dread, that even they exceeded his penchant for brutality. The air burned hot in their lungs as their large, herculean frames strode alongside their warrior-prophet, their urge to dissolve into an all-consuming moment of blood-lust tempered only by their fear of the Gothic City Nightmare's indignation in response to disobedience. And so they remained quiet, their breaths escaping them with bestial pants, as dagger-like claws lengthened in anticipation of the coming violence. And so from three different entry points, the Brahma Bull and his followers sought to burst from, controlling several exit points and enclosing as much of the city as they could, the moon bleeding red, waiting, knowing that where the Brahma Bull walks, death follows.
Dressed in signature two piece suit, her blazed buttoned to the very top, her long flowing hair tightly tied upward into a bun so that her glimmering violet eyes could maintain a stable connection with her impressionable audience. "....." President Pierce inhaled, exhaled, and pressed her palms onto the podium, a momentary pause caused by the severity of the situation and the people staring at her every move.
"Good evening", her heart pounded against her rib cage as she began her first move against the souls whom sought out her destruction.
"Today I authorized two operations on American soil. The first of which being a humanitarian effort to assist the American citizens of Los Angeles after a brief attack from what's been called The Third Society. It's a small terrorist cell that appeared out of nowhere, but faced defeat by the bravery and efforts made by the United States's military's men and women."
"As of now measures are being taken to ensure all the afflicted individuals are given the appropriate medical care as deemed necessary while efforts are being made to assist the city of Los Angeles start its' healing process."
"Secondly, I wanted to discuss the video uploaded on the internationally used social media website known as youtube." Miss Pierce address to the commentary made by the fearsome Brahma Bull brought forth an audible gasp from everyone in attendance, never had a president tackled an issue so soon after a news break, especially when the issue came off far more personal than politically inclined.
"I think it's about time the public understood all the regulations, laws, and inventions created since the increasing visibility of the mutant species. Starting this evening, I wanted to end any and all speculation as well as horrifying allegations pertaining to my supposed anti-mutant sentiments, because such speculation and allegations are starting to be considered defamation from my perspective." Clarice stopped talking, visibly fighting off raw emotion as she did her very best to maintain the proper stature required for an elected official with such imposing power.
"When I was a young girl. I was bullied for being different, I was ostracized for not fitting in, and I never felt like I belonged in this world. So, I worked hard. I worked long nights in the Humanity Now Institute. I made sure that the mutant cure was created. Not to enforce it on anyone. Not to call it some disease, but I myself was a mutant.....and I wasn't happy with myself. That's why I made the cure so that mutants like me, who didn't feel comfortable in their own skin could feel at ease knowing there was a out.....that wasn't death." An unorthodox tactic, but she hinted at a possible suicide for feeling out of place.
"When it was made, I felt stronger, smarter, and better than ever. I wanted to show a portion of mutant kind that things could get better. I ran for presidency and the dreams I was told as a little girl, the dreams that were called impossible, came true. Then the mutant purge happened and the world thought I hated mutants and that's not the case. It'd be wrong of me to demonize people who are comfortable with being who they are. That's why all people who committed heinous acts on that evening were detained and sentenced.
"Except now, my decisions for the implementations of the symbiotic sentinels acquired from the Tzukazaki-Watdai Corporation are being called into question. I understand that, considering the stress and persecution mutants have faced since they first came out to the world, but the people of the world have to understand that I am leading the first country with an almost even population of mutants and humans alike. As much as I've done to ensure mutants have options, including towns so that they bask in the ambiance of their culture and people who are just like them......there a humans who feel a sense of danger. An understandable danger considering the previous administration was assassinated by a mutant terrorist by the name of Quintus Knightfall, a man who showed how genetically acquired power can be abused. Although he was detained, the activation of the sentinels is a necessary precaution to ensure that any mutants whom intend to harm others are brought to justice before anyone can be harmed."
"That's why Operation Justice for All is beginning tonight. Until the Brahma Bull is brought into custody, the nation will be under curfew, mutants and humans alike must stay in their homes from here on out. Until spoken otherwise the nation will be put under surveillance by the sentinels and authorized personnel, and anyone believed to be a conspirator or doing things that they shouldn't be doing will be detained. Let me say this again, until the Brahma Bull is brought into custody for threatening the safety of this country, no one is allowed to enter or this country. All those who seek the destruction of the red, white, and blue will be apprehended. So, be careful of what you say or do mister, because the whole world's watching you."
Even if her speech weren't considered proper. Even if her speech weren't deemed appropriate. No matter what she said, how she said, or why; the American people would eat it up, because at the end of the day....the power of Shinigami prevailed over all.
Rudy stepped out of his penthouse and onto the balcony attached to it, a glass of orange juice in one hand. There really was nothing like a sunrise that illuminated every window in the city, a sight that was only enjoyable at this height to be honest.
He enjoyed the silence before his flat screen inside. With a blond brow raised in curiosity and surprise when the commander and chief of America made a public announcement...D.C was under attack by one of it's deadliest enemies.
"Looks like I have to cancel that autograph signing..." Rudy frowned before walking the T.V scanned his retina and the wall shifted open to reveal the super suit. After suiting up, the paragon of gold blasted off the balcony and into the blue sky.
D.C
It didn't take long for AllStar to arrive and witness the chaos that had fallen upon this capitol. He didn't just watch while flying past hoards of the obvious evildoers, blasting volleys of energy into the masses and having them fly all over the place in dozens at a time. "Didn't expect the AllStar I see!" He shouted. "This place is a disaster..Who the hell would cause this much grief for a message....Oh..."
Star stopped in the air to witness the black death cloud that followed Brahma Bull, who rode atop a pale horse. "...There's a Johnny Cash lyric to be said here." He muttered under his breath before flying towards the Goliath and his horrific minions.
"A little dark down here isn't it? Maybe you need just a tad more light in your day. AllStar by the way, I'll be the one kicking your ass this fine morning..." Star winked and gave a winning grin before unleashing a blast onto both of his clawed monsters while flying towards the Bull with a three ton kick aimed for his jaw.
@brahma_bull: The Eliminator's plots had come to a head. The mutants would have the help of the machine, help so that it could finally exult in the glorious flames of the demise of America. It likened itself to a master painter, one whose paint was death and whose canvas was the whole universe. But as always, lesser creatures tried to interfere in the diabolical machine's "art", always seeking to ruin it's creations. But on Earth, the Machine had decided that the best way to alleviate this was an alliance of convenience with other likeminded souls.
In truth, there was no real escaping the Eliminator on the Earth, it had left nanite seeds all over the planet, all watching and waiting, never blinking, never resting in their omnipresent surveillance of anything it could infect with it's bugs, giving the impression of Omniscience. Finding him was trivial, nanites planted into electronic stores alerted their maniacal gestalt intelligence of the presence of that which they sought. Sticking themselves into any sort of speaking device they could reach, a cold, sinister voice made itself present in the very air, a voice that few had heard and lived, not since new york city more than a year ago.
"Do not be afraid. I have come to aid you. I have watched you, I have observed your artistry, and I find it to be....marvelous!" It said in a voice that though digitized and low, almost to the point of sounding like a steve blum character talking into a vocoder, still carried a menacing bite to it. And why wouldn't it? The Eliminator had long been a shadowy enemy of the Earth and everyone on it. As it's message was sent, sparks flew out of every electronic's store from overloading electronic devices as sinister grey clouds of locust like nanites swarmed through the ground and air, gas mains rupturing as they were devoured and erupting into brilliant balls of flame, cars corroded into nothing in the blink of an eye as they provided a feast for the swarm.
At first they were simply solidified, silvery clouds of matter crawling across the ground and floating through the air, but then they began to assume very vaguely humanoid shape. One by one, each little subatomic robot bonded together, locking in place and overlapping one another, over and over as they constructed a form of singular menace and malice. A quintillion, quntillion little robots filled in the shape asked of them by their guiding consciousness in what couldn't have been more than a few seconds, a horrific to hear ecstatic roar filling the air as it declared it's existence to the world, cyclopean red optic focusing dead on the mutant before it.
"We are kindred souls, you and I. We seek the destruction of this edifice of sanity and the begetting of a new order. I have been thwarted twice before, once at your "big apple", once at your "pentagon", by the so called "heroes."" It said, footage of it's attempted mechanical uprising in new york being thwarted by lady liberty and Tombstone before it could use Tombstone's vibranium cape like a nuclear weapon to flatten the city, then of it's attempted masquerade of foreign soldiers joining the attack on the Pentagon, again being thwarted by heroes and strong evidence revealing it's fraud.
"But we can join our forces, mutant and machine. Paint the world with the blood of those who would oppose us. As a token of my sincerity, please accept this gift." It said as more nanite clouds hung behind it, shifting and warbling as they waited for the right command to take proper shape. From within it's center came a vial containing a glowing blue liquid, capped with black; skeletal hand shaped stoppers. A vial of blue dark glass, specially treated to enhance physicality while avoiding the more deletrious mutagenic side effects before passing out of the body naturally.
"I have studied you, Bull, you are strong, very strong, but this will give you the strength you need to face even the most powerful opponent, it is my gift to you, please...take it." It said as it offered it on an outstretched hand while the clouds began to shift and swarm angrily around it, seeming to react to the machine's evil thoughts as it looked around at the city, contemplating what art it could create from all these bodies.
"Give me the word, and I shall join you in the sowing of carnage and destruction. And together! We shall make a masterpiece out of this lands' cadaver!" It finally said, gesturing to the entirety of the world in wide, sweeping arm motions as electricity crackled down it's "spine", chittering mandibles forming on it's "head" as it warbled with disturbing orgasmic delight at the thought of so much destruction.
@_allstar_: The machine then glared at the power armor clad "all star" with a red gaze that could pierce steel had it been firing lasers. "And so the peanut gallery arrives to interrupt this most glorious of works. Very well, you will make for good clay for this sculpture of slaughter." The machine snarled as a gun formed out of the shifting nanites, a long, harshly angled, and utterly retro sci-fi weapon to be held in the clawed grip of this chrome and purple robot. A mass driver; meant to accelerate a small spike of very dense, very hard matter at obscene velocities; good for penetrating armoured targets. A simple command sent the spike flying at escape velocities, the Osmium round coating itself in a comet trail of fire as ripples of screaming air formed behind it. The All-star was something of an unknown on the Eliminator's database, the Eliminator did not like unknowns. They always got in the way of it's craft. The unknown had to perish. Violently.
on the bridge of the White Whale Lt. Col. Ayana yashimora said out loud, "we finally made it". she picks up the com so everybody could hear her in the ship saying, "Attention everybody aboard the white whale, this the Captain, operation justice starts tonight at 9 PM Eastern make sure everybody is combat ready in the Field branch ready to lay down their lives for our country, this is no drill people you heard her over the news another mutant is planning to start a war on America and we will not allow this to happen, good luck Godspeed".
Aboard the White Whale located in the hangar all four RAH-66 Comanche and that two stealth black hawk helicopters begin loading up and preparing for battle. The White Whale was loaded with 36 Tomahawk missiles that could reach a range far deep in the United States so there are plenty of places they could strike offshore. Knowing that the president, @clara_mass would be in her bunker safely underground STRIKE was going to reinforce the perimeter around the White House just in case!
STRIKE having a variety of anti-mutant weaponry as well as normal weaponry to subside collaborators of Barahma Bull, Lt. Col. Ayana decided to come up with strategy to protect this vicinity of the White House and its bunker where the present lies. At first she was reluctant to even come up with a plan and just decided to evacuate her to the white whale, but Clara mass decided to stay in her bunker underneath the White House as precaution to help any way she can with the joint Chiefs that are with her. Lt. Col. Ayana picked up the red phone on the submarine's bridge and called Claire mass saying, "ma'am I highly suggest we evacuate you to a safer location, I know how strong the bunker as but we don't know Bull and what his mutant friends and collaborators can do, a single man destroyed half the White House not too long ago and killed the last president I don't want this incident to be the same as last time"!
Strigidae twenty three knelt upon the silver moon of the steel floor. Matte black nanocarbon armor embraced the catlike muscles of her athletic form. A cloak hung from her shoulders, laying on the shining steel like a pool of pure midnight.
Her ponytail fell midway down her back, brushing against the self-loading quiver that ran low and flat across her spine.
One pale eye stared at nothing and one golden-brown eye burned with terrible knowledge. Ritual tattoos covered her arms, vanishing under the armor of her forearms and torso.
Burnished gold glowed softly around her waist; an utility belt adorned with the ancient symbols of the Strigidae death-cult. A collapsible bow was mounted to hardpoints on the rear of her belt, tucked snugly into the small of her back. Golden goggles hung about her neck, obscuring the symbolic tattoos that ran up to the base of her jaw.
Ebony gauntlets took up a black sheathed katana. She drew. The silver-grey smile of tungsten alloyed steel gleamed in the thick gloom of the cavern.
Ivana tapped the open mouth of the scabbard against the steel of the floor, emptying the teflon coated fiberglass of debris. Pinching the blade between armored finger and thumb she swept an oiled rag from guard to tip. It glistened in the faint glow of distant halogen lamps. She wiped it again with a second, dry cloth, cleaning it of all dirt and debris.
The blade slid home in the scabbard with a quiet 'thunk'. The twenty first century samurai completed her pre-battle ritual in silence; radio check, goggle HUD check, gatling quiver rotation, loading bracelet zip-guns and delving deep into a meditative trance. There she held her body in a state of relaxed readiness and pulled the shadows around her like a cloak.
"'Under curfew for all humans and mutants, bleh bleh bleh,'" Leonardo Welch mocked the President's speech to himself as he drove an old, rusted muscle car miles over the speed limit- a variety of government cars following him. Swerving to narrowly miss a street light, he winced as he heard his windshield break from a bullet.
Leo whipped his head around. "God dammit..." He grumbled to himself. This car had cost him about twenty dollars- discount price for stopping a gang. But it was a sick ride. Sniffing and taking a bite out of a Snickers bar, he swerved the wheel wildly, the car spinning out of control and hitting an abandoned store with a huge impact.
Luckily, nanosecond reaction time had saved him yet again. Drawing a bladed paddle, he swiftly cut the airbags the moment they came out, the bags going so slow he could have waited what seemed like minutes before he could make his move. Agilely leaping out of the shattered window beside him, he let time resume again, twirling his steel, bladed paddles around with a grin.
Several police officers exited their vehicles, raising guns at him as if that'd do anything. They spoke some stupid thing about how if he'd give up now, he'd be unharmed. "Bull." He mumbled. Dark eyes surveying the police, he ran toward the officers, too fast for an average human to react, cutting through them like paper.
Bullets were fired at him, but they didn't do anything. They moved so slow in his eyes, he'd just smack them away. Within a minute, all thirty officers he'd attracted were on the ground, dead. Licking his lips, he resheathed his paddles. The White House was within walking distance now. He'd go there, fight the terrorist that was bothering the US, and hopefully get seen as a hero.
It is said when bad thing happen when good men and women do nothing. Cassius had tried to be a good man, and it had been less than a year since he was last at this exact same crossroad. Finding himself again under a tyranical political system built on the fear of genetic evolution and the adaption of the human race. He found himself straddling the line between the sides a mutant by birth but his genes remaining passive dormant within him a abnormality of his species. His brother Quintus a radical political figure head for mutant kind restrained/taken from his family and his daughter, somthing that Cassius couldnt let be. So once more he found himself in Washington in the shadow of the whitehouse with a mission and his infamous ironclad intensity to see it through.
Straightening his tie and swaying his shoulders alittle getting the holstered pistols strapped to either side of flank to sit better before picking up a briefcase hand cuffing to his wrist and walking out the front door. Looking to his watch as he advanced making sure to note the exact time. He was early and this was to be like clockwork if it was to succeed at all. Last time it took the presidential guard 4 mins to respond to a threat, this would no doubt be longer than any acceptable responce for the current crop of secuirty officers guardian the nations leader. This was a small window, worryingly small for a man who couldnt run or just start blasting his way through. He had 4 minutes to get into the most secure location in the country, whilst it was being attacked.
Walking over to a pay phone Cassius started to tap at the pad. Letting the phone ring twice before hanging up and then redialing a second number repeating the process. This was a simple signal and it was now the time. Within seconds Cassius could feel her pressence at the back of his head "Dr Steele, keep me hidden as long as you can. And if you can convince a few of the other guards to back me up that would be really handy." Moving calmly and quickly his suit already feeling tight ,the weight of the mission bareingdown on the fabric around him. He was the red flag and the bull was about to run.
@clara_mass A red paint stroke ran through the fortified metal doors of the presidential bunkers. Out stepped Ronin from the blood colored paint, created by his on again/off again teammate Portrait. Standing in front of the president, he rubbed his temples, still not used to traveling in that fashion. "Madam President," he crouched down, pulling his cowl down and looking face to face with the seated Clarice Michelle Pierce. The lack of sleep clearly present in his face. He hadn't slept much in days, thanks to a mixture of being out on patrol, countless hours of detective work, and the strange nightmares he was being haunted by.
The two hadn't met faced to face, but they knew of each other. Thanks to the Mutant Purge that the Children of the Damned, the Gothic's own superhero team lead by Ronin, had stopped. A mutant purge that was rumored to be backed by the President. He thought about the simple words Noah Addams had spoken before the two had parted way. "Don't trust her." Something about this Brahma Bull incident didn't feel right, so ever since that fateful day Brahma had uploaded the video, Ronin had gone through a rigorous search for answers.
The two people under Ronin's scrutiny was the President and the strange woman who had visited and warned Oz of the Brahma Bull's attack, Ivana aka Strigidae 23. The discovery of her identity brought a dozen other questions to light, like why was her allegiance falling under the president and not Brahma Bull, aka Strigidae Zero? Not expecting Pierce to answer those questions, he decided to keep those secret till he crossed path's with the mystery woman.
"While everyone's eyes are on the Brahma Bull, I've been doing a little research on you. It's strange...you have no previous political experienced, I couldn't find much voting information, and I was barely able to find any information on your past at all, yet you became the president." He smirked, not expecting an answer. Why was Ronin able to point out these strange anomalies while others seemly looked passed them? Perhaps it was thanks to the constant poking and prodding done to Ronin's brain in his past life as a brain washed assassin, the Umbra Soldier.
"Still, I'm not going to let this man tear up Washington DC and kill the president just because I suspect there to be foul play, just remember my eye is on you." He stood up, stepping towards the paint portal. Oz stopped, pulling a device out of his pocket and throwing it onto the presidents lap. "When you're ready to fill me in or....you need some help, call me and I'll be there." and with that he was swallowed up by the portal, causing it to dry up and leave a red stain on the door for Clara to stare at.
D.C.
Multiple portals opened up around the battle in the streets, causing the Children of the Damned members to fall on separate rooftops. Ronin landed lightly, looking down at the behemoth Brahma Bull and his massive army. "Let's start thinning out his men, it wouldn't be smart attacking the big man right off the back. Hey, maybe if we're lucky @_allstar_ will take him out." Ronin spoke through his ear piece to the other members. He knew it was wishful thinking, but maybe the popular superhero would get lucky.
Ronin sized up the situation, Brahma's forces were flooding in at neck breaking speeds. This wasn't going to be easy, but being a master tactician himself he'd hopefully see what was coming next. "And everyone, let's just try to have a little bit of fun." He grinned, pulling out his katana's. On the battle field was the one place he didn't feel exhausted, hopefully this wouldn't change. A mistake here would be lethal. He looked around at his other teammates, a simultaneous look of hope and fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for the people he had learned to care for their short time together.
"Let's do this." He charged off the rooftops, jumping into the thick of things.
"Well would ya look at that big bastard," Nyx -- er, Brimstone -- chirped as she alighted on a rooftop with the other Children of the Damned, flexing a little and starting to heat up her body, giving her new red-and-gold suit a faintly rosy glow. If I could use my powers I could end this right here. All of it. She shook her head and grumbled, spitting out multiple hushed, rhyming phrases and consciously willing herself not to teleport. "I can handle this. Thin out the rest of the army. Great. Perfect. That's what I'm here for."
She broke into a run, nowhere near as fast as she would be if she cut loose. Fast for a human, maybe. Maybe even fast for an athlete. Fast enough for someone to wonder if the girl had a little more juice in her than she let on. But not as fast as she should have been. She could just teleport into the middle, of course. Belch out a trellis of hellfire so all-encompassing that it just left a heap of crispy, delicious little bodies.
But she couldn't do that. Today, she wasn't a demon. She was a hero. A fake as hell hero, but a hero nonetheless. She was Brimstone, she had to act like it. Make Ophelia proud, for once.
He applied pressure to what seemed like the seven-millionth fatal wound he saw tonight. The patients were coming in by the hundreds, with traffic blocking the entrance to the hospital. People were starting to carry their loved ones into the building, and the screaming for reprieve brought him back to a place he never wanted to return to. The sounds of bullets fired in the distance did not help. Bombs being dropped, and shells exploding. People dying all around him.
Calm down, James. Apply pressure to the wound, don't kill him. You're strong enough to snap his neck without thinking about it. Calm. Down.
"BLOOD!" he roared, superhuman lungs carrying the call for a transfusion into the far recesses of the hallway. "You're going to be fine, son, I promise,"
The burns were third degree. He could see bone, and he could see blood dumping into the open wounds as his heartbeat started to quiver to a stop. James hated this part. He could see the last whisper of life in the boy's eyes. Hazel, black hair, African American. Beautiful boy. Beautiful spark. But like all sparks, he had to fade away. James held his hand, his tiny hand compared to his own. He could not have been more than seven or eight. He would have been starting third grade by now.
"C'mon, stay with me,"
A hiccup in his lifespan, and he came back, breathing heavy. James put a hand on his face, quietly hushing his panicked whimpers.
"That's it, that's it. Now I have to go to save some more people, I'll be right here. I'll be right here,"
He kept putting his hand on his chest, and the boy seemed to understand with his limited hearing and barely nodded. At that moment, Dr. Hammond and a small army of nurses came into the room ferrying various tools for handling the crowded burn ward.
"This is the latest group from South Avenue. Some of the creatures got bathed in oil once a tanker tipped over. Somehow, they were lit on fire and..." Allegiance informed Hammond of the status of these people, but the man hardly seemed interested - he seemed busier than he had ever been in his life.
James could feel for him and backed away and out of the room. Hammond was working around the clock, hardly any sleep now, making beelines for one case after another of life-threatening proportions. Patients flooded in over the past seventeen hours and have not stopped. Washington DC was under siege, again. They barely even recovered from the Imperator's attack. James did his part for the first half of the battle and kept civilians out of the crossfire. Where the monsters pushed through the local law enforcement and military, Allegiance was there to stem the tide and to defend the people who made this country greater than any politician.
Now, it was time for the second half of the battle - retaliation.
---
"Get them to the ward, now!"
James stormed down the hallway, pumping his feet in their combat boots like pistons in a truck. The doors were about to break.
"Everyone to the upper levels! They're breaking in!"
"Stay strong," he pleaded through the chaos. "I'm here,"
Throwing himself into the raging surge of Brahma's beasts, James knocked one senseless on the spot while diverting the horde in its entirety from focusing on the easier prey in the sick and dying. They had fresher meat to try and kill now. The rest of the behemoths seemed less than impressed by the Star Spangled Super Soldier's ferocity, but nevertheless hesitated in that initial moment where someone actually fought back and gained ground. There were twelve of them standing over bodies, half of which were so mangled that Allegiance just assumed they were part of other corpses. He didn't want to focus too much on that now.
Whether or not they researched Allegiance and his fighting prowess against their master, the twelve practically assigned to murder him would fail today. Four pillars supported the carpool area. There were a total of eight notches somewhere on all of their surfaces by the time Allegiance caught his shield again, a shield responsible for denting the abominations' skulls over and over again. In the meantime, James went to work slamming his heavyweight fists into their guts, sternums, throats, smashing apart ribcages, bursting windpipes, crushing sinus cavities, doing whatever he had to do in order to bring these bastards down. One by one, they fell, and they did not fall easily. Counters were everywhere in this environment. James even left the ground trapped in a full nelson, forced to defend himself with his legs as two swarmed in for some cheap shots. A hard kick to the kidneys brought his prison's warden to his knees while his shield ricocheted off his attackers' scalps, bringing both of them down to the ground in quick succession.
The recognizable 'thump' of Allegiance's emblem returning to his stalwart grip reassured his grip on reality. What just happened was a blur.
And it did not stop James from his civic duty as a human being. He hurried to the wounded and the panicked, strewn amongst the dead and crying. Children were hiding underneath cars, staring at their parents who never got back up. It took James' honest hand to coax them back out, and it took his strong shoulders to ferry them inside, away from the pain and suffering. No child had to see this. No one had to see this. No one deserved any of this.
For weeks, few had seen or heard anything of the mysterious assassin.
Even his team-mates and brethren amongst the Wanderers hadn't spoken to the cybernetic man since his participation in the King of the Vine tournament. Losing the competition had opened Rook's eyes to the fact that he couldn't count on anyone else to fulfil his goals, couldn't trust others to agree with his objectives.
That included the Wanderers.
They were too wrapped up in their rules, too scared about causing paradoxes or disturbing the timestream to actually do anything worthwhile. The Premium Professional could no longer continue his journey whilst remaining in their shadow. So he had travelled to Siberia, to be alone and plan for his mission, setting up a temporary base in the snowy peaks of the Koryak mountain range.
During his absence, the cybernetic soldier had been focusing his efforts on creating an artificial intelligence to assist in his mission. Using some of the technology he had carried with him when he fled to the past from the year 2199, Rook had succeeded in that regard, dubbing his creation Heinrich in an obscure tribute to his favourite philosopher. Its programming had been integrated with the assassin's own cybernetics, allowing instant communication between them, though the man once known as Joseph Drakov continued to speak to it aloud, mostly out of habit and a desire for some semblance of social interaction.
"Give me a status report."
"I have identificed a potential point of interest," the A.I. echoed within the assassin's mind, as a visual display appeared on Drakov's retractable visors. Since its inception, its primary purpose was to try and identity any particular points in time, any important moments that could be pushed in a certain direction in order to nudge the timeline onto a different path and further decrease the likelihood of Rook's particular future ever coming to fruition. However, the only real data sources Heinrich had to draw from were the memories of its creator (and given the fact that the government of his day had doctored many of the history books, it was difficult to know exactly where the turning points would be based on this alone) and the present day internet. As the display came into focus, two images flashed across Joseph's vision. One was a giant, hulking monster of a man, and the other was the current President of the United States of America.
"Define interesting."
"Interesting: an adjective describing something that arouses curiousity--"
"Not the actual word. Tell me why these two people are of particular interest," Rook rolled his eyes, still adjusting to working with such a relatively primitive piece of technology. Heinrich was based on an incredibly rudimentary program from his era.
"Brahma Bull has recently declared his intention to kill President Clarice Pierce. His success in that mission could be vital for the success of our own."
"Hmm..." the rebellious runtkiller watched as the Bull's video announcement played on one visor. "Looks like we're going to Washington."
While everyone bustled about the area trying to scramble together in order to oppose the invading forces, the Premium Rook had another idea in mind. For hours he had been lying flat, entirely still perched on the ledge of a tall building. His camouflage was activated, disguising him somewhat against the concrete and sky, and his sniper rifle was clenched firmly in his metallic hands with the scope pressed against one eye.
Training the sight on the Bull and his forces as they arrived on the outskirts, Drakov did not take the opportunity to take a shot at the beast or any of his followers.
In fact, he was there to help the bulky behemoth.
He had not spoken to the Strigidae Zero and had no interest in forming an official alliance, but it so happened that for that moment, their desires were intertwined. For now, the Cut-throat Crow would provide covering fire for the Guerilla Goliath until he finally managed to snap the president's neck. After that, he was considering putting down the Bull himself.
As the flashy superhero named the Allstar made the first move against the attackers, Rook still refused to fire. He would save his bullets for the bigger threats that were to come, there was no need to give away his position so early in the fight. For now, he would watch and wait for the right moment to strike.
The ostentatious altruist, otherwise known as Allstar announced his intercepting ingress with verbal grandiosity, claiming this and that regarding his intention to bring forth a premature end to the Brahma Bull's ideologically-driven crusade of carnage. Needless to say, the Gothic City Nightmare laughed. Again, and again, and again. The monstrous, resolute bass of his profound, menacing voice conveying his succinct fit of amusement. "So a great gold and gleaming gimp offers himself to me like a lamb for the slaughter". While two of his accompanying monstrosities fell prey to the incandescent indignation of the socially charismatic Allstar's opening, energy-based assault, the evolutionary extremist would come to prove a foe of frightening resilience.
Confident in his abilities, the gold-festooned advocate for justice blitzed forward, summoning his inherent physical power, imparting blistering speed into his ensued attack as his athletic frame accelerated towards the Guerrilla Guevara with breathtaking velocity, his foot positioned to viciously slam into the Brahma Bull's exposed jaw with three tons of knockout power. And so as Allstar sped closer and closer, the Brahma Bull's tame amusement quietly faded from his disposition, his soulless, unblinking eyes glowing a petrifying red, projecting an oppressive, domineering aura. Though ebullient in its execution, Allstar's attack bore no fruits, his foot slamming into the Fourth Horseman's jaw yet yielding no discernible result, three tons of force while lethal, was of no concern to one of the Brahma Bull's physical might, not even of sufficient power to garner a subtle jerk of the head from the Strigidae Precursor.
Soon the arrival of another drew his attention. A towering robotic titan immediately claiming allegiance to the Brahma Bull's cause, and expressing its arousal at the prospect of aggrandizing the carnage destined to consume Washington DC come the Harbinger of Death's imminent arrival. Allstar, while a commendable hero, fell so beneath the Brahma Bull's acknowledgement that he could neither see nor hear him. A lion does not sink its claws into the throat of a wandering blowfly. It simply swats the insect away with an aloof flick of the tail. And with the enthusiastic Eliminator's eagerness to contribute to the foreshadowed deaths, the Brahma Bull employed the robotic Goliath as his tail. "Kill him". He instructed, and so the synthetic titan followed, perhaps under its own accord as it unleashed an attack of unrelenting ruthlessness against the apparently outgunned Allstar.
Prioritizing his promised conquest of Washington DC over dismembering a lone hero, the Brahma Bull left his vibrant opponent to the mercy of the Eliminator while elsewhere, an associate in the Rogue Knightfall, Cassius sought to facilitate the coming invasion's progress through his expert implementation of trickery and deceit. Riding forward, the fog of black death growing thicker and wider as it rolled behind his army of nightmare creatures now short of two, the Fourth Horseman's approach grew closer to the city's borders, his arrival as certain as the arrival of his two least expendable cronies, Strigidae 100 and the Autocrat, both leading their respective forces into the city via other entry points. And as the Brahma Bull continued forward, his eyes transfixed on the emergent sight of his target city, homicidal hunger burned in the pit of his stomach, tonight the Moon's blood would rain upon Washington DC and paint the American capital red.
@cassius_knightfall: @brahma_bull: Alexandra hovered in the air beyond the initial assault. The Brahma Bull was quite the distraction in and of himself. It brought a smile to her scarlet lips even as she approached, a stunning image in white. An ample bosom barely contained in a white corset that cinched her off at the tiny waist. Skin tight boots were nearly painted on her supple thighs as a snowy cape flicked in the air behind her. She was hardly subtle. Once the White Queen, always a White Queen. Subtly was for pawns. Her eyes glowed white as she scanned for Cassius' mind. "Hello, Cassius. Quite the lovely War Room you have in here." A gloved hand tapped her temple. "You proceed according to your plan, darling, Dr. Steele will create some havoc, even some aid. You'll know them when you see them."
The Mistress of the Mind set about confusing the minds of the security forces at the White House. Hidden snipers were not so concealed to the Psyentist's probing mind. "Now for a bit of manpower." She entered the mind of one. "You work for us now. No, you don't have a say in the matter. But don't worry. Serve us well, and you may even survive this traitorous allegiance to the misplaced president. First, you'll brand yourself." The psychic thrall pulled a combat knife from his gear to cut a bloody 'X' into his face. "Mine now." The vampire cackled as she set about psychically corrupting four more for a small task force to aid the stealthy Knightfall, blood streaming from their faces, pain numbed by Xandra's control on their nervous systems. "On their way, Cassius with my macabre autograph. Do say 'hello' to the Madam President for me." Her eyes scanned the mayhem before her. A tongue clicked behind pearly white teeth. "So many doltish heroes at the defense. Now, what other madness can I cause?" A sadistic smirk spread across her fair features as she looked for a more challenging contender to target.
Even that award winning grin knew when to fade, this was exactly that type of moment. The kick did nothing, a strike that would absolutely destroy a mere man's jaw left nothing but a smile on the Bull's face. Enough was enough, the man of gold would not be brushed off by a mass murderer.
"Alright Bull Boy, you asked for it!" Star shouted and flew behind the treacherous titan's head and cocked his fist back for a eighty ton punch, ready to show that he was not some weakling. His attempt however would be snuffed out when an android of some sort fired a high velocity spike.
"Whoa! NO!" The celebrity hero grasped the spike firmly with impressive speed, but still flying away with it towards a building. At the last second though, he shifted his body for the spike to continue it's course through the air. Looking back at the machine with a bit of a sneering grin, Star winked at it and fired energy volleys from both of his fists, with the exploding force equivalent to a good pound of C-4.
"Sorry tin-man but the robo shtick is pretty eighties."
"He's closing in on the city, there is a couple hundred, maybe a thousand I assume."
The "basement" of the Pentagon hummed with the sounds of hundreds of fans buzzing. Nearly forty degrees celsius to support the monitors stretching from wall to wall. Nearly sixty feet underground below the foundation. In this complex array of tech and concrete held America's secrets, reports on nearly every city in the world, interrogations going on in corridors of metal doors, and the agents staring at monitors for hours; and right now those monitors watched over the approaching army.
"We're going to set up blockades on the roads, set up some overwatch on them, and no matter what don't let them enter this city. If Project Hydra is to go underway we need to stomp them out, let them see our horns. If a single vigilante tries to step in, take them out. Leave it to us.
The Senator turned heel to the round table of the attack. Stepping into the elevator leading to the lobby floor he walked out to the steps, preventing the attack was hopeless. Even with his nanobots The Bull would still take D.C, but there was one more possible choice.
He walked for blocks, to the verge of the nightmare's path. Out of sight for the moment. Doing this would technically be going against Project Hydra but what other choice was available? Nuclear Warheads this close to the city would send the country against itself, calling in heroes would make the United States weak making it more of a target.That couldn't happen, not yet. For now he would need to use himself, this husk wouldn't last against the nightmares the horseman brought.
His skin rippled like a stone thrown in water, bringing a shade of green onto him. The ground under him sinking slightly as his mass and weight multiplied, and grew, and grew. Now was the time to unleash himself. Unleash the wrath of God, Unleash the power of the universe, Unleash Goliath.
“Mmmm three more minutes.” The plea was a slight murmur as the news alerts penetrated Lena’s dream state. Avalon’s co-head had fallen asleep at her desk during the evening hours of work, something that was not entirely out of the norm for her.
The moment that she realized just what the alert was, she shot up like a bullet. She glowered at the screen of one of the wall-to-wall monitors mounted on the west side of her palatial offices. Somebody had schooled Clara on how to address the public, somebody very very good. The speech almost had the ring of truth to it, almost made Lena feel as if Clarice were an altruistic soul. She was dangerous, perhaps more dangerous than Lena had initially given credit for.
But it was a testament to Lena’s luck that the current address from the President of the United States was not the most pressing issue. The unfolding attack on Washington D.C. was.
Lena needed to be on the ground, that much she knew. There was going to be pandemonium, pandemonium and wheeling and dealing, all enacted under the guise of preparedness. There was going to be mayhem enacted under the guise of protection. It was situations like these that fostered the best, but also the absolute worst, that humans had to offer.
She pushed her chair back from the desk, wiped the sleep from her eyes and began making several calls. The first and foremost was to Santi, to notify him that she’d need several pieces of equipment, as well as the fact that she had every intention of being on the ground during this incursion.
It took her a speedy twenty minutes to gather everything that she needed and to notify Brady Calhoun that he would be piloting her in. The two had developed a close working relationship over the years, and there had been numerous times where that had swayed into something more personal, but they had never been destined for anything more than friends, which made what they were now so much easier for both.
“Do I need to say it?” He posed the question, his tone naturally gruff, while expertly piloting the shielded aircraft into the city, successfully avoiding the repercussions for an infraction on the militarized no-fly zone.
“We both know that you will anyways.” She unhooked her seatbelt and gathered her gear close to her body. All she had was on her, or contained in a custom satchel that the paragon of perfection wore crosswise over her torso, keeping it close for ease of access and better protection.
“Be careful, Lena.”
They both knew that she wouldn’t.
---
An eerily full moon was high in the sky, and the scent of blood and death was on the air. An inherent chill emanated through the city as the cacophonous sound of screams, cries and death rattles echoed through the air.
Situations such as this brought out all sorts. Those who sided with those creating the mayhem, those who utilized the mayhem for their own gain, those who fought for the safety of the innocent, and those who objected to the actions. Any and all spots on the scale of morality was brought out.
Lena was here to catalog it all. To document the destruction, the bad and the good. To hold people responsible, to save lives where she could.
She was no hero, she never pretended to be such. But somebody needed to have the backs of the heroes, somebody needed to ensure that this wasn’t swept under the rug like all of those that came before it. It had to be a turning point, it had to be, or else what was going to happen?
She was snapped out of her reverie of thought as a particularly bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. Lena held up one of the handheld cameras that she was equipped with, this one customized and modified to her particular specifications.
Her outfit had been chosen for functionality. Skinny jeans were tucked into combat boots, her grey v-neck covered by a leather jacket, zipped to keep out the unnatural chill of the night air. Golden brown hair was scraped off her face, secured in a ponytail that hung down to the center of her shoulderblades.
It had been her intention to look like everybody else on the street, for here she was not Lena Dante, co-head of Avalon, public face of the company. Here, she was Lena Dante, American citizen, and she was performing her mission to show the truth, to hold everybody accountable.
Panning the camera around her, she spun slowly. All footage was being immediately streamed to the Avalon servers, and to Santi. From there, it was run through proxies and uploaded to a multitude of mirror sites, streaming live for all the world to witness.
Flames glowed in the distance as groups of people ran past her on the streets. She kept an eye out, ensuring that none were injured and in need of immediate help, all as she moved closer and closer to the epicenter of action.
The video feed of Brahma Bull had an effect that exceeded the United States. An anarchist group of this might would threaten all the world goverments. If they were to win here and now the cult would only grow stronger as their leader and the so called messiah Brahma Bull.The Venezuelan Princess was well aware of the fact that in the end, this would endanger her home or more importantly her father. So, she was headed to the DC. Not for the american president nor for the Champions Of Peace but for the sake of her home to make a stand before the curse of the Brahma Bull spreads.
Well above the city on Naehbur who was in a giant black hawk like form, Munashe scanned the area from her spirit companion's eyes. She could see the diveded horde of men rushing for the city in three different ways shadowed by a dreadfull mist. The moment she looked at them, she could picture the oncoming slaughter. She could feel the intensity of the awaiting havoc. ''Warn anyone you can contact. Get to the civillians and save as many as you can, Naeh. I'm going in!'' Mun tried to sound as confident as she can but still it was hard to hide true feelings from the spirit but Naehbur didn't reply right untill Mun jumped off from his back. <Be carefull...>
. . .
Naehbur sent a telephatic message to all the heroes around the city about the arrival and whereabouts of the horde of men. His concantration shifted as he located three children that were in the way of the oncoming horde. Naehbur made a sudden shift in his trajectory. The giant hawk took a dive with all his speed and only slowed when he was about to crash on the ground. His body started reshaping. The wings grew longer and turned into claws. The tail got widened to form a tiger's head. The head sliced up to both sides to shape into the hindlegs. Before a second past the Hawk had turned into the giant tiger. Running as fast as he could, he grabbed a child from his shirt and threw him on to his back before getting to another one. He got the other one with his mouth and extended his claw to another before changing his body into a hawk again to fly them off to somewhere safer.
. . .
The vibranium spear tightly grabbed in her right hand she was going down with incredible velocity. With the momentum gained by a slight push on her right harm she took a full turn as she lifted the spear above her head. A fast spin of the spear the air currents took a sudden turn, pushing her body slightly above vertically. with the new movement she threw a spinning kick to the air for another jump to get back to her first stance. Now both hands on vertically held spear she dived head on.
A few feets above the titan like figure, Brahma Bull she once again took a flip. She created a strong air current with immense pressure that could break a boulder all by itself and seemingly kicked it towards Brahma Bull while using it to push herself for a back flip to make safe landing. As her right foot only met with the gorund she moved her spear along with her body diagonally sending another intense air current to his followers that were at her right side. Without losing her gained momentum she span the spear which was followed by the ever strengthening wind, around her head with only moving her upper body and released the wind towards the other side to hit the other followers and to acquire the needed spear fighting stance against the mountaionous figure.
@brahma_bull: Lurching it's head into the air, the seven and a half foot frame of the nanite swarm given shape considered the issues facing it and the mutant legions. Firstly of course, was the threat of rabble like the army daring to slow down it's art. Secondly and in it's mind; far more importantly of course, were all these lovely, lovely little heroes and anti-mutants who would contribute to it's art, but threatened to disrupt the whole painting. The heroes it had a plan for, but to delay the army it had another, more simple idea. The nanite clouds that it kept around itself swarmed and flowed into shapes at the outskirts of the city, meant to form an outer guard to delay the arrival of conventional forces.
There shapes, solidifying out of tiny, tiny little robots and into the frames of such base forms as aggressors, malacostratas, reflex light tanks, and gremlins, were of course, never going to stop any hero worth a damn. They were poor individual combatants, dull witted, bad shots, fragile beyond reason to the point that one man with a submachine gun could hold off swarms of these machines, largely unthreatening in damage potential. But that was not the point of them, they were simply there to slow down those the machine did not want spoiling the show; namely the faceless masses of the United States army. Such plebians would only ruin the art with their drudgery and unimportance.
"~Be sure to allow the true stars of the show through. Keep away the peasantry.~" It commanded to it's robotic minions as already even policemen were able to take down the machines in droves, with pistols felling the infantry like scythe through wheat and grenades rupturing the alleged "tanks" like balloons. So long as the army was kept busy while this drama unfolded while the true heroes could enter this melee freely, it mattered little to Omega. Now for the true fun it reasoned as it stalked forward, living true to it's moniker of "Lone Wanderer" as it diverged from the protectorate machines busily soaking up the National guards' munitions like good little cannon fodder.
@_allstar_: "Come to me little one...I want to see what colour you bleed." It said in an almost deranged manner, warbling with electricity and data as it summoned forth a nanite cloud to form into a wicked doubleheaded chainbladed axe whose vibranium hilt helped control the violent motions of the weapon's power field coated adamantium-necrodermis teeth, clearly meant to do intensely violent things. It's optics sweeped around, it's lanky form seeming smaller than it actually was due to it's hunchbacked and crouching posture.
Reacting with the speed, agility, and grace that only it's quantum processors could, it sent itself into a spinning kick flip to the left to avoid the incoming energy volleys. A single missed step could very well mean a hit from the volleys, and a hit from that would have transformed into a stagger, and a stagger meant receiving yet more hits. While something of it's durability level should not have been so concerned, the smallness of it's nanites meant that these bolts actually posed a serious structural integrity threat to the greater whole, especially when constantly maintained.
"But don't worry. Your death shall go to a higher cause. The cause of ART. Of the creative FORCES!" It ranted, seeming to be only semi-coherent and flying in the face of the stereotypical image of the passionless, logic bound killbot. Certainly, this machine's processors burned with fiery creativity channeled towards all the wrong outlets. An artist's soul melded with that of a violent murderer, something made all the more apparent as it began scaling the building surfaces with bounding leaps and clawing motions with it's digitrade legs for purchase into the sides of the structures; jumping from wall to wall like a skillful super metroid player to get up higher without giving it's prey an easy target.
"Ahhh....listen to the screams....mmmmm....listen...oooohhhhh yesssss....liiissssteeeennnnn....that is the purest music." It said, it's spine arching with ecstatic joy as it calculated a perfect leaping trajectory in a single instant. Bounding forth with sufficient speed for it to outpace it's sound, the machine then made the bizarre decision to explode into a cloud of nanites that would reform around All-star so that it could get the divine steel staff in the perfect position to make a one hundred eighty degree spin meant to make for a cut with the axe right at where it estimated where the connections his power suit's generators had with his boot jets lay and force him down to the ground.
The crack of gunfire inevitably fell upon his shield as uselessly as rainwater, and he continued to advanced around the convoy, leaping and defending those in desperate need of medical attention while the soldiers he managed to round up fell back in conjunction. This didn't seem right to the All-American. Brahma Bull wouldn't draw out an attack like this. He was bombastic, crude, and loud. He liked to be heard and feared. A ponderous advanced through a metropolitan area, taking street after street one by one, wasn't his style.
This was all one big trap. Only one railway, reserved for business-class industrial shipping, remained untouched by the onslaught. Allegiance already ordered every hospital he and Dr. Hammond could come into contact with to bring every man, woman, and child they were able to carry down to the dozens of trains. The cars near the middle would be a dedicated intensive care unit until they could reach the next town. Here, James personally showed an honest talk with little Gregory Harris, the boy he met in the burn ward mere hours ago. He did not smile until James walked up to him again, and his eyes lit up.
"Hey Gregory. I want you to be strong for your mother, and for your sisters. They're all counting on you to pull through. Just a bit longer, and everything will be fine,"
The Star Spangled Super Soldier would forever leave an inspired mark on Gregory's heart, his very soul. Maybe he would become the next great superhero. Only time would tell, but for right now he had to endure one last bout of darkness as Allegiance shut the door, entrusting the fighting men and women of the US military to defend the civilians they managed to gather. Little over ten thousand refugees managed to make it out safely that day, and James would never ask for anything in return, only that they keep it a fight between Brahma and those who could actually defend themselves against him. He saw hundreds of cameras streaming his face and iconography straight to the web, but there was one who refused to stop. Along the avalanche of humanity, he lost where he first saw her. Lena Dante, the face of Avalon.
He was unable to pinpoint exactly where she had gone, perhaps even on a mission of her own. But he found it necessary to escort as many people as he could out of the city before whatever Brahma had planned could actually happen. The trains wouldn't return for another few hours. That would be plenty of time to round up more survivors. In the meantime, he found an opportunity to reply to the telepathic voice he felt earlier. Of course, James felt he was never good with words, and felt even worse about trying to convey any reply with his mind. Georgian humility often got the better of him in these situations, but he couldn't downplay anything - not now. And so, he tried.
"Uh, hello? Who is this?" Allegiance stuttered mentally, trying to find the voice he heard and focusing on replying specifically to it. "Look, I don't know who you are and you're probably busy, as we all are,"
Tucking and rolling, he effortlessly evaded clipping his legs on a hollowed-out taxicab, flipping onto his shoulders and continuing his heavy-footed sprint.
"But if you are able to do anything, I need as many of Brahma's subordinates drawn away from civilian clusters as you can. You're really the only one I can communicate with right now, and if you're unable to hear me or do anything to help I can understand,"
A rogue cluster of sparks from the distance rooftops, and Allegiance ducked behind his shield, feeling each round ricochet harmlessly off its unbreakable surface. He felt like he was leaving a message on an answering machine or something, so he thought it polite to introduce himself at least.
"This is Allegiance, by the way. I don't think my brain has a special number you can, uh, think of,"
Accomplishing the mathematically impossible in the blink of an eye, James hurled his emblem across the cityscape and took immediate cover behind a blasted-apart chunk of concrete. The fluidity of the triangular arc finished once he sprang back out to catch the symbol. The gunfire had stopped mere seconds before he emerged, a silence following the telltale 'thunk' of metal against collarbone.
It's an unacceptable display of disrespect. Why he thought this was the best course of action was beyond her. Instead her mind remained in a trance of bewilderment as she watched the infamous YouTube video on an endless loop. "Bastard." His intentions, although admirable for showing such balls, wasn't going to prevent her from ensuring his demise.
However, prior to any sort of engagement the violet eyed chess player was alerted by @ayana_yashimora about the prospect of transferring her from the White House to another location, considering the severity of the situation as well as what happened with the previous administration, but the business attired trailblazer wouldn't be hidden away like a coward, regardless of her political position.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." She pressed her hand against her chest, acting as if she were doing her best to stay strong. "I'll be even better if I know that you're protecting this country to the best of your ability." A part of her actually meant those words, considering the fact that she didn't want to die.
"May God be with you." Her voice was a blanket of comfort, easing her constituent that everything would fine on the mainland so long as she did what needed to be done. However, truthfully speaking, the voice emitting from the communication device irritated Miss Pierce. She didn't have time for conversing, when there were other matters to attend too.
Yet, before she could rise from her seat the lady in white was met with the strange intrusion of @dwronin. He came forth through a painting which left her speechless as he uttered a bunch of nothingness. However, reality came into focus when he brought forth information indicating the presidential election shouldn't have resulted in her ascension into power. In fact, the man knew things that the majority of the world didn't know....and if they did....they would have lost their minds by now. Except for this man, this man whom said he was aware of how sketchy her administration was, threatening her in the most passive aggressive manner, and with that said the man disappeared as quickly as he had arrived; leaving the tightly put together billionaire baroness in a state of genuine shock. She'd have to handle him, but judging from his clothing the brash broad knew he had the sole intent of halting the warpath of brahma bull, and so she simply assumed he'd be dead by breakfast.
"Ivana (@strigidae_23), I did my part. Outside of alerting the Champions of Peace, but let's be honest; if they don't help then America will eat their asses out. Until that eventuality, I have one more favor to ask of you. Kill the Brahma Bull and your mother is as good as alive. Got me, miss thing? I hope so, because I have faith in you. I believe in you. And there's a damn soul that's on par with you. With that said, I won't be taking anymore business calls that aren't about his death. I've got more important things to handle."
After finishing a series of unfortunate events, the mistress of mayhem carelessly disrobed, untying her hair and letting those long crimson locks drape her bare chest. With nothing but earrings on the self-professed pinnacle of humanity slipped inside her already prepped indoor hot tub, submerging herself in the bubbling waters as she listened to such soothing R&B melodies.
As Lt. Col. Ayana gets off her red phone on the bridge the White Whale she knows that Clara mass the president of the United States is deciding that is to great of an incident to be let out safely out of the bunker and be hidden somewhere offshore. Ayana decided to instead reinforce the White House before they where attacked by Bull's forces. as, night draws near and Ayana gave out the word of everybody in the hangar of the submarine, "operation justices commenced I repeat operation justices commenced"! the hangar door the assault submarine opens up letting all of the attack helicopters to transport helicopters out at once. Taking off in a V-shaped pattern heading towards the White House the two stealth Black Hawk helicopters were in the middle as the four Comanche attack helicopters make up the wings guarding them.
Tec team forces in the two transport choppers look down seen people in fear running for their lives against rogue mutants in the militia that Bull brought with him as the choppers fly over civilians yell for help, for them to save them from this chaos!
"help us PLEASE....... ", a woman with her child cries screaming up with the helicopters to save them.
As a choppers fly over the inner-city leading past the museums the Allegiance looks up seeing choppers fly over him and said,"about time backup arrives"! still looking up at the helicopters he smacks his shield across of one of the militia militants like he was nothing just a annoyance.
As two stealth Black Hawk helicopters hover over the front lawn of the White House the drop ropes as tec teams from STRIKE slide down the ropes and secure the front lawn. seeing Ronin leader of children of the damned jumping off the rooftop of the museum near the White House he smashed into the ground with reckoning force making a couple of militia militants fly in opposite directions in the cars and buildings killing them instantly! RAH 66 Comanches fly around town taken out designated targets at will trying to protect the civilians that are in the crowd at the same time. so much violence, so much death hospitals were being overflowed with patients as they were guarded by the local police and National Guard. Washington DC now on fire from enemy militia and car bombings from the militia so many lives are being lost one can only hope the children of the damned but save this place from its hellhole it is now! As the tec team secures the White House front lawn and its doors the two Black Hawk helicopters go back to the submarine and await further orders.
Her vengeance didn't belong to the Bull her father wasn't slain by the beast of death. Still Natasha could release her anger on such a figure of malevolence for the concept of supremacy. Quintus the apparent killer of Anthony Stark was of similar mind. That alone was reason for Nat to take action of course she also wanted to save lives and all that other noble shit. It wasn't on the forefront of he mind she wanted more so the end of a monster. Clarice was also someone Natasha felt obligated to defend. She never met the wife of her father, and what she didn't know was that it wasn't even her father. The Stark was of other dimension, this Nat didn't know and so she thought today she was backing her stepmother. But she chose to forget the complexity today it was about monsters ending monsters.
Over in Ronins Rest the Champion was a reknown individual her blades ended many criminals regularly. The vampiric icon took life with ease but few loathed her for only the wicked saw her blade. And for exemplary efforts when she asked for things like a Cessna 182 personal aircraft it didn't take much to get it. So soon enough Natasha was leaving Japan in an overnight flight that would have just enough fuel to get overseas by the time she got to DC the plane would be going down which Natasha wanted. For besides her the personal aircraft only had two things. About a thousand pounds of fuel and exactly a thousand pounds of C4. The high explosive was a bit overkill but then this was a vampire teenager seen as a serial killer who used her abilities for vigilantism. She wasn't subtle.
Champions of Peace were an unknown she didn't know if more would come overseas. Apparent branch of Champions in New York didn't matter to the little vampire maybe they would show maybe not. At least two honest Champions were here tonight however as she learned Allstar was here as well.
Flying over the Capital was an act that got a fair entourage of fighter jets. Three of the jets tailing her "relax it's an explosive gift for Bull." Better another hand in time of need then following exact protocols and so the jets became her cover fending off any AA measures they could. Shame the trip was on this night what should have been a lovely view was distorted by blooms of smoke and flame erie mist and large masses of fighting. The tyrant of Darwinism however was an easy find. She waited for when he was approaching a more vacant district. Location fled in panic by some others corpses for not retreating soon enough.
Was here that the plane dipped and was shut off rushing towards the brute. She steered untill she felt sure then turned to mist escaping out open window materializing high in the air as she triggered the explosive. Designed to set of a monstrous detonation ontop of dreaded oppressor. She'd land on her feet katana in hand readied to atleast give effort to halting the horsemen of death. Normally she was void of fear and dread. Though she stood steadfast and brave she'd be lying if she said there wasn't a chill to her spine. This wasn't like other mutant uprisings or armed attacks. Where Brahma walked death became the widening shadow an chaos followed like an apocalyptic force of nature.
Upon receiving radioed confirmation from the Autocrat and Strigidae 100 of their forces' successful entry into the magniloquent city of Washington DC, the Brahma Bull rode forward, his band of hulking beasts and monsters of militant savagery frothing at the prospect of skinning their opposition alive. A mystifying silence fell upon the shimmering city, the Gothic City Nightmare's black mist dissipating into the still night as fate waited with uneasy anticipation. Dismounting his gargantuan Pale Horse, the Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare strode forward, leading his menacing cronies into the city, his commands burning in their minds, growling at them to eviscerate and dismember the encompassing civilians. They were not soldiers, no his paramilitary collective rested presently under the leadership of the tactical wizard, the Autocrat, those in the Brahma Bull's company, were simply put, monsters, instruments of carnage.
A staple of his destructive assaults on American soil was encompassing himself with his armed, mutant guerrilla troops for strategic input, tactical support, and the implementation of guerrilla warfare. Tonight however, those who came to expect him to adhere to his usual modus operandi would find themselves sorely disappointed. The pedestrians were a minimum, the bulk of the city's constituents hid in the comfort of their homes as per the demands of President Clarice Pierce's ordered curfew. Raising his massive, tree trunk-like arms, the Brahma Bull's irate, vermilion eyes pulsated furiously, the black, smokeless flames of Hell rose and flared all about the city, spreading wildly and without mercy, burning away the environment's oxygen and scorching all that it touched. If the American citizens would not emerge to witness the rise of his kingdom, the Gothic City Nightmare's ebony flames would consume them and reduce their homes to ruin.
While Strigidae 100 led a brutalizing onslaught in the city's western most, bombing and bullying the city's infrastructure with RPG-30s, Molotov Cocktails, M67s, M203s and the like, the Autocrat led his cronies into a segmented guerrilla assault. One portion was instructed to seek out the city's power delivering system and disable it with the intention of depriving the city of its electrical power, and employing the resultant darkness to disorganize and disorient the heroic defenders, police officers, and potential military forces certain to intervene, while another portion sought to induce vehement sensory disorientation and deprivation in their opposition via their assortment of potent chemical warfare agents, blood agents (hydrogen cyanide), vomiting agents (diphenylchloroarsine), blister agents (sulfur mustard), and psychological agents (3-quinuclidinyl benzilate), hopefully rendering them into a highly vulnerable state and exposed to the ensued militant assault.
With the objective of plucking the American president's eyes from her head and seizing control of what may soon become the ruins of Washington DC, the Brahma Bull marched forward, every footstep reverberating with a petrifying quake across the concrete pavement as the streets burned and civilians cried. And then, abruptly, the indignant revolutionary was intercepted, a powerful current of air blasted against his hulking frame with the kinetic force to reduce a sturdy boulder into rubble. An admirable assault of commendable valor, and perhaps against another opponent, incapacitation would have surely been its fruit. Unfortunately, for one of the Brahma Bull's documented durability, it simply managed to rouse his irascibility as crimson eyes rested on the spear-wielding girl's diminutive frame. A portion of his followers however, were not so fortunate, finding themselves blown into the distance by the girl's potent but raw aerokinesis. "Heroes will be dropping like Icarus tonight", the menacing bass of his voice growled.
While adding the girl's blood to the smeared crimson staining his machete's ebony blade was an immediate thought, the Brahma Bull opted for a different approach. Capitalizing on his youthful adversary's distraction with thinning out his bestial cronies, the Fourth Horseman quickly removes the safety clips from his M67 fragmentation grenades prior to pulling the pins, straightening them as they emerge and pulling the grenades away from the pins, heaving the cluster of detonative projectiles at his elementally-gifted opponent, unconcerned with having his explosives aerokinetically redirected towards him, his iconic durability affording him the ability to withstand and endure physical punishment like no other. As a combined 32.5 ounces of composition B explosive and steel fragments sought to bombard his armed opponent, the Brahma Bull's attention fell upon another. A diving jet-plane containing a gross quantity of C-4 came for him, violently crashing into his leviathan frame.
The aerial vessel's impact energy blasted the wind from his lungs and drove him into the ground, fracturing a rib, lacerating his flesh and vehemently bruising his body. Abruptly however, the plane's C-4 detonated, speedily decomposing to release nitrogen and carbon oxides among other gases as they expanded at an explosive velocity of 26,550 feet per second, the explosion scorching away flesh and heating his bones without mercy. The beauty of C-4 however, aside from its stability and insensitivity to physical shocks, was that following the initial explosion, its gases rushed back toward the center of the explosion, triggering a second, inward wave of energy, one that further wounded the warmongering Fourth Horseman, portions of his flesh seared and blackened, the pain torturous, but his indignation, his rage, exceeded all other factors. And so as he struggled to his feet, the permeating smoke from the plane's crash and the C-4 detonation veiling his hulking frame, showcasing only a silhouette of irate eyes of glowing red.
Armed with one of the Autocrat's unique P4CK assault rifles, a fully-automatic, air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed weapon with a magazine size of 60 rounds, an ammunition of 600, and a rate of fire of 900 RPM, the Gothic City Nightmare's eyes fell upon his secondary opponent. Cocking the firearm prior to taking aim and firing the opening shot, the gases from the first round and from those that followed, impinged upon a gas piston, pushing back the bolt carrier, rotating the bolt inside and chambering rounds until the magazine was emptied. A barrage of M118 7.62x51mm armor-piercing, FMJ rounds surrounded by molded jackets of titanium, with carbide tips, and coated in copper over their titanium shells blitzed towards the Brahma Bull's katana-wielding opponent, the Guerrilla Guevara immediately superheats the fired rounds' metal jackets, encasing them in his scorching black flames as they threatened to violently pepper and burn his arriving adversary, the monstrous bass of his voice roaring for all to hear. "Your heroes, your idols will fall as I play the role of Abraham!".
"What the hell...?" Star had his guards up but was severely annoyed by this machines banter, watching it avoid his attacks while ranting and raving about how it's basically fun to be evil. Just as he charged up for another energy blast however, his mechanically agile foe literally exploded into a metal cloud.
"WHAT!?" Star exclaimed, his icy blue eyes darting in every direction to asses what was going to happen next. How could the man of gold expect this perfection of murder to form in front of him like a sand sculpture and swing that axe with amazing force towards Star's body? The hero barely managed to grab the weapon with a clap, holding the blade in it's place with shaky palms.
"Listen, please! I don't know if a human is under there or not but you can't side with that maniac, he's just going to kill you too when the time is right! And if you really are just a bucket of bolts? Here's a special autograph I give to people like you!" The AllStar's hand glowed with the intention of pushing both the axe and it's wielder back to the ground, now with a window to look at @brahma_bull down the street fighting other's who seek justice.
"Dammit...I can't get over there with this thing on my back..." He muttered to himself before charging up his gauntlets again, firing a huge energy beam right for the Bull's back. The beam itself was like a fully loade freight train in it's force, hoping that it would disorient this common enemy enough for the other heroes to get their jabs in.
"As for you..." Star landed back on the ground, glaring at the soulless red eyes in front of him. "Let's dance..."
The tenacious scent of catchpenny cocaine encircling an abecedarian, rotting room scattered. Scabrous wall twisted tirelessly, its lacklustre alabaster hue cascading onto a mahogany, worn carpet, stained in vermilion of a patulous wound, throbbing beads of burgundy tainting periodically the changeless spot prior to scattering. A semi-shattered goblet gyrates sluggishly, ultimately halting near-at-hand a muscular, hideous , charcoal leg, a sole tendril protruding onward from its calf, snagging pronto the amber bottle, pouring the venomous poison inside a glass aside, trapped inside its enthralling reflection, enslaved stare, exuding melancholy, abode Luke Craig, sinking innermost the overflowing glass. A feeble-minded demeanor gazed infinity bewildered, as all answers floated within the Black Label sipped by parched lips, moistening and burning his throat and soul.
Words of President Pierce resonated on the background, accompanied by the lyrics of a widely plied Pearl Jam CD. Luke snatched an AK-47 which had been deposited sidewise, a few pinpointed projectiles punctured her skull. "Mutants. Manhood. War. Yadda yadda yadda." Alcohol reinforced catastrophic effects, bestowing Nobody countless, kaleidoscopic hallucinations, a spacious specter of buoyant, yet malevolent sentiments. Twain hands cleaved the tip of the timber table, vigorously flipping it by raw, untamed puissance. A boastful smirk crossed his face and he cocked a brow at some apocryphal being beneath. Reaching out a minor portion of his potent arsenal via expanding, extensive tentacle-like borders of his exoskeleton projected across the room, he gathered enough for an incursion. Savoring sprucely the last drips, he readied to imbibe in carmine blood. Loading his SAW, a lighthearted chuckle absconded his wry countenance. "Time for a hundred justices per minute." Stepping forth, he rapidly webbed his flask. "Will be needing this."
The barbarous, ferocious counterpart presented by his exoskeleton felt delighted by sightseeing such wondrous bloodshed, yet craved for a role, thus permitting Craig to superintend himself. Well-nigh all stoic, lion-hearted figures jolted onto Bull and his major allies, ostensibly unbeknownst that thousands of lives were at stake, risked due to narcissistic status. Nobody was no hero, he despised the concept, but empathy generated a fairly sympathetic consciousness. Rappelling throughout buildings, he scalped innumerable pawns with keen-edged blades of his collection. Landing nigh a flock of future victims, the cemented ceiling above in imminent collapse, he elevated both hands, superciliously objecting the straightforward deaths as tendrils aback held his guns, firing at will, boasting from enviable precision.
Bullets soared, metallic projectiles penetrating fragile soon-to-be corpses, sprinkling the rubicund rain. His trigger-happy, ludicrous countenance veiled by a silk alike mask, he missed a few shots, perhaps wounded civilians, yet he was intoxicated, hemoglobin painting the emblazoned spider on his chest was not unlike the blissfulness of peeking a rainbow. "Look, ma. Just like Battlefield!" Jocosely stating, the somewhat psychotic arachnid let out the idiosyncratic shriek of his guffaw. Scarcely did he savvy @allegiance was prominently evacuating edifice after edifice, otherwise the 'family' reunion would certainly be postponed. Nodding at the civilians, he bobbed his head toward an apropos exit, a fading coruscation on the letter X enlightened the course. "Go ahead! Ladies and children first!"
@_ophelia_ once asked Ronin why he never drew his swords during their patrols, which usually ended in them kicking a few thugs butts, but if she was watching over her leader now she would finally find her answer. Ronin deflected an array of bullets with ease, ducking down and twirling his swords over his head. He charged through the crowd, slicing limb after limb of Brahma's forces. The Umbra Ninja found himself lost in all of the copious amounts of blood shed. His body was on autopilot. Swearing to only kill when he must, he hadn't torn down this many men in a very long time. Still it was no different than the muscle memory of riding a bike. Tearing through flesh and bone, instead of just cutting through skin. Kicking nose cartilage into the front of each of their brains, instead of just simple cracking their jaws. There was no holding back.
In a completely sadistic way, Ronin was enjoying himself. The nostalgic pleasure terrified the Umbra Ninja, but he showed no signs in his effortless attacks. He sliced off one soldiers face, straight through the jaw. He cut through two mutant soldiers Achilles heals and as the two fell to their knees, he decapitated them both. He sent his sword through a man's ribs like butter, then another, shish kebabing the two men together. He kicked them both off, springing into the air and landing on a thirds back. If anyone was watching, they'd hear Ronin's insane laughter.
Oz looked through the crowd, watching as a group of the paramilitary parted from the rest, not heading towards the White House. Why were they going that way? Ronin sent a command to his suit, causing a map of Washington DC to pull up. "A bowling alley, a bar, a few stores..." Ronin was reading out loud the places in that direction, still moving down paramilitary soldiers with his vibranium steel. "Electric power system towers. That's it!" Being a tactician himself, Ronin could see the signs of Brahma's attack plans. He was trying to shut down the power of the entire city.
Ronin sheathed his swords, raising his gauntlet up and shooting a grappling hook onto a tall apartment building. Flying through his air, he pulled off his bow and attached a few explosive cartridges onto his arrow heads. As soon as he landed on the rooftops he ran, shadowing the army that had split up. Pulling his bow string back, he shot explosive arrows, one after another at the men. More limbs flew through the air, raining down on any man lucky enough to survive the arrow onslaught. He was thinning the group, but he knew if he really wanted to stop them he'd have to cut off their head.
He jumped down, kicking into one man's back. Ronin bounced off, swinging his bow and breaking a second man's jaw. Spinning through the air, he continued breaking every jaw in contact dodging every bullet aimed for him. Pinpointing the leader of the group, @autocrat. Ronin charged behind a member across from Autocrat, choking the man out with his vibranium bow. In doing so he became a wonderful meat shield for the oncoming bullets and couldn't help but pull the trigger of his own assault rifle. The bullets raced through the air, aimed for Brahma Bull's indispensable henchman. Oz whipped his bow, throwing the meat shield at a crowd of soldiers and charging at Autocrat.
Ronin swung the vibranium bow, aimed for the man's knee cap. At the same time sending a robotic fisted superman punch aimed for the man's throat.
Esther's heart was racing as her knuckles hovered over the door, still deciding whether or not to knock.
A mere few days ago she had encountered her first taste of superheroism, rescuing a hero named Eclipse from the clutches of a villainous mutant. Immediately following this, the young man had recommended that she should adopt a secret identity and join a team of like-minded heroes for training and direction with her powers. To this end, he had bestowed his own name upon her and granted her membership with the Champions of Peace. Rather reluctantly, she had travelled to Japan in order to meet these Champions, and now found herself being summoned to the office of one of their leaders in order to be properly evaluated.
Unfortunately, that leader was her father and the source of her powers, Guy Geller.
Over a decade ago her mother, Stacy Lane, had divorced Geller following years of domestic abuse, with his murder of Philip Stein; the subsequent explosion that killed over thirteen thousand people; and an instance where he lashed out at Esther herself proving to be the many straws that broke the camel's back. Guy had not seen his daughter or ex-wife since then, having spent most of that time in prison. Now it seemed that fate was finally reuniting them. Eclipse felt that she needed to have a word with fate about this sort of thing.
Finally making a decision, she flung the door open and stepped into the office, not thinking her nerves could handle the process of knocking and waiting for a reply. For a moment she stood there, racing heart skipping a beat as her father's eyes stared back into her own. His face was unchanged, exactly the same as the one she had tried for so long to forget, slowed ageing being a perk of his abilities. Time seemed to freeze as a million thoughts went through Eclipse's mind. A hand shot to her face as, for a split second, she thought she caught a glimpse of recognition in Geller's eyes. That, however, was impossible. Even if by some miracle Guy still remembered what his daughter looked like, the new hero had gone to the effort of using her light manipulation abilities to create an illusion over her face, morphing many of her features into an entirely new identity.
"Ah. Right, a meeting. I forgot... You're the new Eclipse, right?" Clearly FuzionGuy had not recognised her, barely looking up from his paperwork as she entered.
"Yes, I..." Esther paused as she considered whether Guy was likely to recognise her voice, before continuing as she decided that her voice had changed a fair amount since she was seven. "That's right. You wanted to see me? No, wait... Also, I wanted to see you. I mean, I wanted to ask you--"
"About Washington?" The leader of the Champions of Peace didn't look up from his desk this time, clearly tired of answering this question. "Officially, we are not mobilising the team to help in that conflict. Though obviously I can't stop any individual members who choose to help."
"Hold on... So you're not going to help?" Esther replied, the shocking nature of his statement enough to remove any awkwardness she had previously felt. "Brahma Bull is launching an offensive against the president of America and you're not going to help?"
"In case you haven't noticed, kid, this isn't the United States of America," Guy gestured at the windows, showing the dirty environment of Ronins Rest. "There is more to the world than the USA and I am tired of spending all of my time cleaning up their messes. Mere months ago I helped to stop an invasion of Washington by an alien force, and now it's under attack yet again? Sorry, but I came all the way out here to get away from home, I'm not about to go back just because some mutant wants to kill the president again. It's not my problem."
For a while there was silence between the two of them, Guy calmly going about his work as a quiet anger built up in the girl he could not know was his own flesh and blood.
"Some hero you are," Eclipse retorted angrily, before vanishing in a burst of orange light.
Reappearing in another flash of gold, Esther stepped out onto the streets of Washington with a determined scowl, ready to prove a point to her reluctant leader. Almost immediately her face fell into an expression of wide-eyed fear. Screams of terror pierced the air; horrific creatures ran rampant terrorising the city; and buildings were blazing with monstrous flames. It was far more than the young hero had been expecting, having had no experience at this sort of thing aside from what she had seen in her father's films as a child, which in retrospect really didn't reflect the reality at all. With a trembling hand she pressed her fingers up against the fabric of her costume, feeling the shape of the crucifix beneath as she made a silent prayer.
Before the fusion powered girl could decide on how to proceed, she suddenly found herself pinned to the ground by a mindless creature, one of the many droves of monsters under the command of Brahma Bull. The creature had broken out of formation and was tearing through the streets, until it found Eclipse and wrapped its mighty claws around her, its teeth forming what could only be assumed was a grin as it contemplated how best to kill her. Reacting instantly with a scream of terror, Esther released a bolt of light from one hand, a shard of pure energy that tore right through the monster's chest. It fell to the ground limp, with that sharp-toothed smile frozen to its face, as Lane pointed her palms towards the ground, soaring off into the sky in order to escape as soon as possible.
"Okay, Essie, what's the plan?" The new hero muttered to herself, attempting to shrug off the attack as she tried to find her purpose in this battle. There was no way she could contend with the Bull himself, or any of his lieutenants. She had almost no combat experience at all, the incident moments ago being only the second time she had used her powers offensively. It was always instinct and that wouldn't be good enough against someone like Brahma.
Watching a man clad in patriotic red, white and blue leave a train that was becoming increasingly full of injured people and those trying to escape the city, the girl suddenly realised something she could do.
Floating next to one of the buildings being ravaged by fire, Esther looked in through the window to see a family attempting to escape. Surrounded by the hellish flames on every side, there was no way they could get to the door. So, as his wife clutched their baby, the man rammed the fire extinguisher (apparently useless against the mystical blaze) against the wall repeatedly in an attempt to create an exit. There was little chance they would make it through in time.
"It's no use..." The woman sobbed, kissing her husband as tears streamed down her face, dripping onto the forehead of their streaming child. "Goodbye, George..."
"Hiya, George!" Eclipse smiled as she appeared alongside the family in a flash of light. "Hold on guys, I'm getting you outta here!" She placed one hand on each shoulder and channelled power through them, as man, woman and child began to radiate a golden glow. Then, before the flames could get them, they vanished, reappearing in one of the train cars already on its way out of the city.
Disappearing before she could be thanked, Esther returned to the train station and decided that something had to be done to prevent the monsters from attacking those who were trying to escape. So, using her powers of light manipulation, she created a distortion field around the trains so that light simply bent around them, providing the illusion that they weren't actually there at all. If any other heroes or innocent bystanders appeared, she would of course lift the illusion for them, but for now it would prove to be a useful tactic for masking the trains from those who would see a cart full of civilians as an opportunity for murder. Then, taking to the skies once again, the young superhero flew from building to building, rescuing those who had been trapped by the hellfire.
There was little she could do offensively, but there were other ways to be a hero.
"You think me a man? I am mechanical intellect given nanite form. I am computerized artistry! I am no being of flesh, I am so much more!" It ranted, it raved, it's optics shuttered briefly in a parody of blinking as the screaming chainblades of it's axe inched ever so slightly closer to the face of it's victim. Mandibles formed along it's besnouted head and a long, nano-spittle inflected roar came forth, warbled by data and electricity arcing across the "mouth" formed by the nanites as the two engaged in a pushing match. The glowing energy hands were what helped finally give the hero enough leverage to force the slender, lanky robot back as it stumbled backawrds, it's circuit chip styled axe swinging backwards as it flopped to the ground, smacking into it with enough force to crack the pavement like an eggshell as it picked itself up to fight once again.
"YES! MORE! MOOOORE! I WANT MOOOREEEEEE!!!! GIVE ME MORE HEROES TO FIGHT!!!" It cackled and shrieked with insane glee as it's right arm molded into the most 1950s styled arm cannon you've ever seen, even including pointless flashing yellow bulbs on the otherwise chrome and purple surface. Inside, a nuclear reaction took place, hydrogen was separated from the water vapour in the air and then forcefully combined into helium, which itself combined into heavier still elements under temperatures billions of degrees above the boiling point of water and under unfathomable pressures.
A shriek unlike anything any normal man had ever heard could be detected as the radiant heat of the nuclear reaction ejected itself from the arm cannon in beam about a foot thick, a beam that acted a channel for the massive gout of melta gas that ejected itself in a long, purple-yellow beam of unimaginable temperatures meant for melting right through the heaviest of armor, and even if the armour stood up, the heat was usually enough to cook the wearer alive inside his own armor. The concrete in the way instantly flash vaporized, the air caught on fire as oxygen and nitrogen made unnatural chemical reactions and formed into nitrous oxide; laughing gas, though at the temperatures it was at inhaling it would probably just make one a free-floating superheated cloud of gas.
"Any outcome of this day furthers my designs, thing of meat. What has been set in motion cannot be denied. A reckoning approaches. Far more terrifying than anything you have yet seen. Death will be a mercy." It said, far more calmly and rationally as it leapt back and formed missile launchers in it's "shoulders" by shifting it's metallic, letting loose a string of missiles; all loaded with cryogenic warheads filled with chilled liquid nitrogen mixed with supercooled H2O to form into perfect freezing material to set up for it's next audacious attack, something one no one would expect a walking armoury like the eliminator to pull.
Absorbing massive amounts of matter through it's nanites, devouring the ground and rubble in astonishing amounts, then collapsing the nanites back onto itself and using the additional mass to substantially increase it's strength, bulk, and the menace factor of it's design to prelude to leaping at All-star with the intent of poncing him onto the ground and beating his photogenic face off with the machine's fists, which it had formed into maces regardless of whether it's prior attacks took. The intent was to constantly slam into his face with all of it's astonishing speed until it felt his skull and brains turn to mash beneath it.
Those following the commands burning with the Autocrat's tactical wizardry were perishing by the minute, an external force had successfully penetrated and disrupted their attempted mass disorientation and sensory deprivation of their self-righteous opposition. Fortunately however, they were a guerrilla unit, they were not a gargantuan numerical collective moving under the sole leadership of one commander, they were segmented, broken into small tactical units that exploited the landscape and traversed the terrain with greater mobility and secrecy than their larger adversaries while employing potent hit and run tactics. The Hound of Justice wasted little time in making use of his peculiar mask's integrated communications technology to instruct a portion of his unit to proceed with the objective of severing the city's power delivery system.
Meanwhile, those remaining in his presence scattered, seemingly retreating while dexterously concealing themselves in the neighboring shadows, rooftops, alleyways and the like, awaiting instruction from the Prince of the Ostracized. Those who apparently remained to do battle with their slaughterer? They perished, falling before the unrelenting sting of the emerging Ronin's fervent assault. Turning round to meet his vicious opponent's irate gaze, the Autocrat's overpowering superhuman durability shrugged off an otherwise blitzing barrage of gunfire from Ronin's cerebral exploitation of one of his guerrilla cronies' assault rifles, the bullets ebulliently ricocheting off his powerful frame as footsteps guided him towards his mute adversary with militant swagger, the menacing, distorted bass of his voice emanating from his unorthodox mask's interior, "Listen, our hearts were torn apart just like yours are now", the Hound of Justice began.
"When your streets celebrated your president's declaration of militant violence against mutant-kind. My people are trapped in an era of modern racism. The Brahma Bull fights for the freedom of the mutant people. He fights so that our people survive this racial assassination", the Autocrat paused, his legs bending, subtly lowering his frame, his knee blasted by the impact of a swung vibranium bow, the pain ringing across his afflicted joint. "You cannot play victimless when you gave the kiss of death because you fear our evolutionary superiority", he resumed, his left arm quickly extending from the shoulder, a fist forming as an intercepting straight left sought to snipe his adversary's argent, robotic arm at the bicep while relying on his sonar hearing's sound propagation to discern the arm's vulnerable structural point with the objective of imparting sixty eight tons of force into the targeted weak point and vehemently shattering his opponent's cybernetic limb.
Capitalizing on his opponent's potential distraction with his intercepting counter-strike, the Hound of Anarchy darted from visibility, enshrouding himself in the encompassing calignosity of the city's infrastructure, yet still his voice rang. "You have lived your entire life conditioned by this capitalist nation's bigoted government. They have never taught you how to seize the day. They only expose you to its system and teach you how to be a slave", he paused, "And are you not? You fight for them, risk your life for them. Because you were conditioned to behave". Issuing a command through his unorthodox mask's communication properties, the Autocrat's instructions reach those of his scattered and veiled guerrilla troops armed with his unique BHM-55 firearms, titanium alloy, gas-operated marksman rifles. Cocking the rifles as per their rotating bolts' requirement that the weapons be charged, his cronies take aim and fire a bombardment of experimental 9.5x40mm armor-piercing rounds at a rate of fire of 900 RPM.
"Give me liberty or give me death"
The blitzing barrage targeting the morally motivated Ronin from a variety of exploitable angles, accelerating towards exposed body zones, intent on imparting monstrous quantities of kinetic energy into their adversary's body, maximizing the potential for sustained internal injury. Emerging from whichever shadow had served as his succinct domain while his concealed guerrilla troops quiescently peregrinated to different vantage points etc., the Hound of Justice's voice mocked, "Give me liberty or give me death".
A personal aircraft smashing into dreaded figure and what Natasha could roughly see was that it's effect was minute. Furious explosion went off erupting with a brutal force glass shattered debris rained down. A large blossom of smoke slowly dissipated after monstrous explosion. And yet shrugging off wounds like little more then paper cuts the Bull stood. If the teenaged vampire was watching this from a news feed she might have even felt fear. But not here adrenaline pumping in her veins the lust for blood it led to razor sharp focus. The blade in hand was Night Hunter she'd seen at least some of what this brutish harbinger of death could do, this blade was more optimal for deadly task.
In the heat of conflict she didn't have time for wordplay to just preach while standing around looking pretty. It also just wasn't her style. Her comments were as follows. "You know I wish the plane or explosion would of broken your jaw. I'm no hero just a monster playing on the other end of the fence."
These words came as she made effort to avoid the bullet storm propelled her way. Sixty rounds fired in her direction, there was however one benefit to the danger. Natasha wasn't in a fancy outfit, she had the old Vamoose suit but that was home as she worked on trying to recreate it's special traits. Natasha was just a skinny pale girl in a shirt and skirt. When a bullet hit her it went clean, entering and exiting vermillion weeping hole where bullet traveled. Natasha's reaction time helped her take action her speed helped evade the barrage and skill finished off the running dodging and weaving made in effort to close distance.
Still three holes were in her left shoulder five running down left rib cage. Six holes were scattered throughout her legs and three in her right arm. She was still capable of motion vampiric durability guiding her movements. FMJ rounds did leave bones in a place where they very likely could shatter in near future but for the time being the creature of the night was still going. Bullets never stuck in sparing the teen what would of been game changing flame.
As the gun clicked empty the vampire should be close her rapid speed being used in a quick sequence of sword oriented attacks. At a time when actively seeking conquest Doom created a metal designed to down a god like Thee Champion. A sword of this metal came into the hands of Luke Craig. Upon one of the many downs on Luke and Natasha's up and down rocky relationship Nat acquired this blade. It's edge worked to disrupt the ATPs of those it cut. With any luck it'd end some of the guerrilla warfare tyrant's various benefits. First swing was designed to open the jugular. Using her momentum she sought to get behind releasing backward stab wishing to rupture spine heart and even sternum. There was no knowing how efficient closing the distance or the unique blade would be but an appetite for blood sparred her mind of doubt.
Hour nineteen of the siege of Washington DC, the second attack it had suffered within the span of a few short weeks. The world is an inherently cruel place, manufactured and maintained by inherently cruel people. People who didn't need to exist. But then, the world would change. People were not accustomed to change. They would hate the change, and start to fight the people who wanted change. These, too, were people who did not need to exist. In fact, one could go down the list of archetypes, stereotypes, factions, clans, allegiances, and nationalities and find that they were not necessary for the survival of the world. In fact, they were all detrimental to it. There are some people who are inherently cruel, and they were collectively known as the human race.
They needed to be erased.
Like how a column of smoke erased all light.
How thunderstorms blotted out the sky.
Although the reckoning would not come today, it would be hinted at. Half of Washington DC disappeared under the cover of a thick cloud of vapor. Everyone already inside became lost. Many screamed, feeling fingers dragging along their temples, the sensation similar to two hands holding their heads - and squeezing. This feeling would also come to Luke Craig and James Palmer, except upon finding the former any and all interruptions in the evacuation would come to a stop. Instead, the smoke would heap together, swallowed and combined into a singular entity. Exhaling deeply, that humanoid creature made it abundantly clear that it was he who controlled the smoke as twin puffs of the vapor escaped from his mask.
Without speaking, he would throw a hand to his side, erecting a dome of impenetrable smoke around him and the enlightened Luke Craig. Equally without warning, he would begin to attack the vigilante relentlessly. A two-fingered salute to his eyeballs, a mere childish ploy that would continue into a drastically more dangerous kidney shot with one of his heavy legs - made even more so by the jettison of smoke bursting from his calf muscle. Following this, a few prods at Luke's pressure points, acupuncture made fatal by the advent of hardened vapor molecules wrapping around his fingertips. One miniscule scratch could mean paralysis, as the smoke particles would carry through Luke's blood, poisoning everything on their way down. Perhaps most unsettling of all of this was this man's eyes, as he never broke contact with Luke. Absolute focus. Never overzealous. He knew exactly what he was doing, where to apply pressure, where to maintain the offensive push and when to presumably dive defensively only to flow back into the hardened onslaught.
All the while, the assassin kept quiet. Not even a whimper of effort escaped his lips.
And just as the battle seemed to be already in progress, another presence appeared - this time behind Luke. Having perfectly flanked the opposition, the assassin seemed to have backup in the form of another, different warrior. However, upon closer inspection, Luke could see that they were not different or even alike in the same sense as a twin. They were actually the same, not clones, but the same actual person. From both directions, the attack would continue, without pause or reprieve.
When the fog lifted, only one would be left standing.
Victoria Elizabeth Lionfang Windsor was and always would be a very proud and courageous girl. She wasn't like the patriot saving lives like a dog herding sheep she was a lion overlooking the providence she saw as hers. She wasn't like the hominus nocturni descending from the skies with grand opening of thunderous explosions. She wasn't like the up and coming hero saving people from burning buildings. If anything she was like another sniper in the distance, granted she knew nothing of that individual. Lioness looked for the perfect targets the leaders needing put down. Similarly years of military training a life built on battlefields or preparation of made her astute in her tactic.
The armored Brit moved as soon as she arrived for the power system. Logic would imply that as a target. A mutant armed faction could commune or supplement power in a variety of ways. The modern military and citizens could not. Because of this Victoria made herself cozy on the highest perch available located at the peak of a central tower it's flickering light often used to alert planes would further mask Victoria while her heads up display spared any disorientation and even helped calibrate her shots with quick and efficient accuracy.
She was further backed by a small spherical tactical drone she and Oz had chosen to name Cornelius. Cornelius provided further identification of incoming threats. With him around Tori knew even where those in the alleys or buildings were. With no place to hide and a surplus of ammunition on her as well as magnetized to the rod she used as a perch there was nowhere to hide and no need to be stingy on bullets.
For those hidden Lioness launched rockets small in size but deadly enough to bust tanks. These would snake through the air until prey was made into carmine mist. For those who thought a car, or a wall or two was enough cover, for those who simply charged. They got the fifty. Her bereft fifty cal sniper rifle was outfitted with FMJ casings and an explosive tip. One such bullet would be chambered for Ozzy's defense. The volatile round seeking the cranium of "Bull's right hand bitch." Taunt likely never heard given the distance.
Seeing as the bullets bounced off Autocrats wide frame and his tactical units began to disperse, still heading to their destination, Ronin realized he might have made a lethal mistake. "@childrenofthedamned if you're near my location, help me take out Autocrat's men. They're heading to Washington D.C.'s power plant. They want to disable their systems and turn off all the power in the city." Ronin swung his bow, with seemingly little effect. "I'm sure you can understand why that's a bad idea." Ronin tried to weave out of the way of the disabling strike, but wasn't quick enough, thanks too being in mid air. The brutish punch connected on the weak point of his cybernetic arm, damaging the circuity and causing it to be immobile.
Ronin's quick glance of his damaged cybernetics, gave his opponent the chance to disappear. Was he escaping? The sound of his continued tirade proved otherwise. Allowing the man to speak Ronin bent down on one knee, opening up a small hatch on his arm and doing his best to fix the problem. Oz quickly looked up, hearing the extremist break from his speech and ordering his men to gun down the Umbra Ninja. With cheetah-like speed Ronin raced to the nearest SUV, sliding under it's body for protection.
As the bullets began to tear through the SUV meant for a family of six, Oz feverishly continued working on repairing his arm. Still Autocrat continued on, reciting his words of hatred and racism. Ronin knew better to argue with a fanatic, there was no doubt in his mind that the two could go back and forth all day with their words. He would much rather finish this with his fist. As if hearing the pinned down heroes thoughts his limp robotic hand tightened into a fist, it was back in action. Still Ronin was stuck, there was only one crazy thing he had left to do.
Feeling the tiredness he'd been stricken with the passed few days start to seep back into his brain, Ronin decided to pull out an incredible stupid Hail Mary. His human hand quickly darted into his utility belt, pulling out a single pill. A pill rightfully called CAESAR. CAESAR was a drug created by the same evil organization that turned Ronin into a mindless assassin, Linktech. It gave the applicant the ability to teleport in erratic puffs of smoke. It also gave the applicant enhanced supersoldier abilities, being that Ronin honed his body to those heights already they would have no effect. Only one man had taken these pills before, his friend and fellow CoD member and Linktech experiment, Plex. The problem with CAESAR was they had turned Plex into a schizophrenic, depressed, mental case that constantly hallucinated. Plex did eat them by the handful though, so hopefully one pill wouldn't send Oz to the loony bin.
Ronin stuffed the pill in his mouth, swallowing it dry. He closed his eyes, listening to the ricochet of bullets littering the car. He did this until the sound began to go mute. Oz was now standing in the LinkTech facility where he had strangely broken out of the mind control. He stood naked, covered in the blood of the scientists and businessmen that had taken any hope of a normal life away from him. Crouched down in the bodies of the dead was one man, quivering in fear. His name was Dr. Sting. He cried out, claiming to be a friend of Oz's parents. He said that he was sorry and the only reason he didn't leave the organization was because he wanted to watch over Oz, he even took credit for the Umbra Soldiers break of the mind control.
Dr. Sting looked up at Ronin, no more fear in his eyes. He wore a placid expression, he opened his mouth and spoke with a voice that wasn't his own. "Give me liberty or give me death".Suddenly Ronin's eyes burst open, his pupils completely covering his iris'. He could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins, thanks to the CAESAR and in part to revelation of who Dr. Sting was. Ronin let out a vicious roar, slamming his robotic fist into the ground over and over, leaving a fist sized crater under the car. A blast of smoke engulfed Ronin and he was gone.
Thanks to his impeccable hearing he knew where each gunman was. Teleporting one after another he took out each soldier gunning for him, snapping their necks. This was no longer the hero called Ronin, this was the Umbra soldier and the Umbra Soldier was out for blood. He could hear three things now that he was lost in his trance: 1. the sound of his rapid heartbeat. 2. the ecstasy fueled sound of their crackling necks. 3. the plea and revelation of Dr. Sting. Any bullets that found the Umbra Soldiers flesh were shrugged off, thanks to the adrenaline rush he was feeling.
Finally the Umbra soldier found himself standing in front of Autocrat. Whatever rant Brahma Bull's main follower would want to go with this time would fall on deaf ears. He darted towards the hulking man, sending a krav maga elbow strike aimed for Autocrat's jaw. This was only a distraction, considering two robotic fingers were sent for Autocrat's right eye simultaneously. Umbra sent a rising knee for the hulking man's groan, then rolled out of the way behind him. Finally he sent a few decisive jabs at the man's nerve endings, if successful would make mobility quite difficult.
Fervently, his guerrilla cronies' numbers dwindled by the minute, though no sensation of alarm manifested in the Autocrat's resolute spirit. The sheer quantity of armed mutant extremists encompassing their architecturally disheveled environment was beyond the ability of one man to eradicate. "You have no place in the new world, the Brahma Bull's world", the Hound of Justice resumed, marching forward, both hands gripping the sides of his militaristic, bulletproof vest with swashbuckling, militant poise. "Your nation, land of the thief and home of the slave, will fall". Meeting his adversary's ebullient melee barrage of pugilistic fury with haughty flippancy, the Autocrat's veiled jaw found itself struck across the bone by the sharp point of Ronin's lacerating elbow, though sustained no discernible damage.
The Hound was durable, phenomenally so. It was however, his arrogant indulgence in demonstrations of his monstrous physical toughness that allowed his opponent's metallic index and middle fingers to graphically penetrate his exposed, indigo eyes, gouging them out with violent vehemence as blood spurted from now empty sockets, torturous pain overtaking the hulking extremist, and succinctly rendering vulnerable to the following knee to the groin. An admirable effort, though unlike his robotic arm, the rest of Ronin's body, even aggrandized by elevated levels of adrenaline, did not compare to the herculean physical might of the resilient Autocrat, and so, like the elbow that commenced the assault, the knee bore no evident offensive fruit. The pain radiating across his destroyed ocular features was tremendous, yet the Autocrat emitted no grunt, no growl, no vocal acknowledgement of agony.
Conditioned by the unrelenting cruelty of the Brahma Bull, no man could ever break him. Though temporarily forsaken by his sense of sight, the Hound of Justice's accelerated regenerative faculties courtesy of his 'extracellular matrix' would soon take effect, producing a protein-based biological extract that would travel to the damaged area, break the wound down and perfectly reconstruct the injury-afflicted area with alarming immediacy, his eyes certain to be restored in the coming fifteen minutes. Seemingly vulnerable from his absent sight, the Autocrat's adversary, due to a lack of knowledge, did not account for his primary form of sensory perception, sonar hearing. He need not his sight to resume the bout. And so, he did. Slipping and rolling past the executed jabs, sound propagation alerting him of their paths while his bio-electrically aggrandized neural synapses afforded him the nigh-instantaneous reflexes to dodge and evade.
Dodge and evade all but the final jab. The final jab was a strike to counter. Dexterously leaning his head inside of Ronin's jab while his rear hand extends, partially arched, from the chin, crossing his hulking frame and extending towards his adversary's chin while his rear shoulder thrusts forward, protectively brushing the outside of his chin as his lead hand retracts to tuck against his features and shield the inside of his chin from a possible counter while his torso and hips rotated anti-clockwise, adding elephantine power into his slightly arched counter-cross. The blitzing speed of his reflexes coupled with the exploited angle of attack rendered his slightly arched cross a thunderous, lethal counter-punch, the perfect counter to the jab as sixty-eight tons of force sought to blast into Ronin's exposed chin with the intention of finishing him with a dynamic knockout. His sonar worked fervently, alerting him to the ingress of another, an armed woman.
Immediately hoping to exercise his greatest advantage over Ronin, that his physical strength was far beyond his adversary's range, the Autocrat sought to capitalize on his opponent's distraction with respect to his recently executed counter-cross and secure both arms around his adversary's torso with Ronin's arms forcefully pinned to his own body while the Autocrat's hands sought to lock themselves in a hook behind his opponent's lower back while pressing his forehead into Ronin's sternum, pulling his locked hands inwards towards himself in an attempted body-lock from the front. The clinch hold sought to pin Ronin's arms to his own body with the intention of preventing him from relying on their use while the monstrous pressure of fifty sixty tons to be exerted by the hold hoped to snap his adversary's back bones and muscles while forcing the air out of his lungs as the Autocrat's objective to violently crush his opponent to death unveiled itself with clarity. Simultaneously hoping to make use of Ronin's exposed back as a body-shield in response to the female marksman's sniper shot detected by his sonar, the Autocrat taunted.
"Aim for the head". Should the body-lock encounter absent success however, a relative duck would emancipate him from the accelerating bullet's path. Allowing his mental commands to be transmitted to his guerrilla soldiers via his mask's communicative properties, the Hound of Justice issues his tactical instructions. While his guerrilla soldiers relocated, they implemented bounded fire as they advance under the cover of suppressive gunfire of supporting units, all targeting the unacquainted Lioness. One portion of the unit provided covering fire and field obscuration while the other maneuvers forward to provide covering fire to enable the aforementioned unit to leapfrog forward, repeating the process until they find themselves within grenade range of the Lioness' position. Upon closing in on their armed target, they heave fragmentation grenades and unleash automatic gunfire as heated steel fragments, high-caliber bullets, and merciless detonations seek to viciously bombard the Lioness. Retreat however, was imminent.
Now defensively-minded, an isolated unit makes use of a select number of guerrilla soldiers to hold a weak, facilely evacuated position behind a readied, remote detonated mine should the Lioness or Ronin pursue them, a mine flanked by a set machine gun. Should any of their adversaries advance, they would pull back, and in the event of their former position being overrun, the mine would detonate to distract the pursuing opponent, subsequently followed by the open fire of the machine gun on their flank. The Autocrat's cronies would follow by switching the machine gun to engage and suppress their enemy as the rest of the units maneuvers against their dislocated and exposed flanks pulled forward from their defensive line to support the head of the assault. Only in the event of a potential pursuit from the enemy, however.
DC was in shambles. The workings of evil intentions had this capitol crippled in moments, the work of a clever enemy no doubt. Was the Pest really just going to reside in Gothic city while chaos reigned elsewhere? Of course not. The Scarab was a gleaming blue hovercraft designed by the crafty Pest himself, jetting into the smokey chaos down below in D.C.
"Well this isn't flippin' good!" The bug themed hero shouted while reading scans from he streets down below. Within moments and he had brief profiles on who was all down there. "Snap...Brahma Bull, what the hell is your DAMAGE!?" Pest smacked the screen with a tad of frustration, remembering the chaos he caused in the city Pest protected presently. Fighting the Goliath would be fruitless at this point, would just get in the way of the plethora of heroes already weighing the ultimate horror in flesh form down.
Another opening popped up to the bug however, Autocrat...Pulling back from fellow heroes? "Oh....Yeah.." Pest grinned while engaging the screech cannons on the Scarab, aimed for the brute and his gun totting goons. It was only a slap of a button that engaged the weapons, firing a consistent wave of sound equivalent to a jet turbine against the ear drum.
It was timed however, cancelling just as the Pest leaped from the bottom hatch of the Scarab, his POW! pistol aimed right for the Hound himself. Seeing just how bulletproof this foe was, he unleashed a blast from the gun with the kinetic for equal to a small freighter contained in a basket ball sized orb.
"What's the rush muscles? Party's only just begun!" Pest laughed upon landing on the street, keeping those bug eyed goggled fixed on the real threat. With luck, the duo behind Autocrat would catch up for support.
If anyone was watching, they'd see a horrific smile on Umbra's face as he tore out the man's eyes. Autocrat's impressive strength caused no handicap on his speed. He moved as quickly as someone half his size and stature, if not quicker. Thanks to a mixture of his quick reflexives and his heightened senses he was able to dodge each jab with ease, even without his eyes. Except for the last jab, he swatted the last attack away like the Umbra Soldier was just a bothersome fly buzzing around him. Following the jab he sent an excruciating hay maker that would have killed many men. The hit would have even knocked out Ronin if it wasn't for the fact a part of Ronin's brain was already unconscious, giving free rain to the monster within. The Umbra Soldier.
Still the hit put Umbra in a complete daze, nearly knocking his jaw off. Autocrat capitalized on his, lunging forward and capturing his prey in a terrifyingly vice like grip. In a knee jerk reaction, Umbra sent headbutt after headbutt, aimed for Autocrats temple even though if they made contact would most likely cause no damage. Feeling one rib after another crack, Umbra finally lunged his neck forward like the wounded animal he was. He sent his hungry teeth aimed for the brutes jugular, aiming to rip it out. Simultaneously he sent a mental command for his cybernetic arm, which would send an electric shock out and into his opponents body.
Picking up on the sound of Lioness bullet as well and realizing what Autocrat was doing, Umbra closed his eyes using all of his might to teleport. The second command was a success, bringing the crazed man and the mutant extremist ten stories into the air, above the street the two were fighting on before. Umbra opened his eyes, still feeling his ribs cracking with each second. He pushed his heels together hard, causing two vibranium blades to pop out from the front of his boots. He raised his knees up, aiming to shred up the man's shins and calves. Whether the blades were successful or not he kicked off the man's thighs with all his strength. Finally Releasing himself from the behemoths grasp. Here is where Ronin would have made a corny joke mid air if it wasn't for his eyes rolling back.
He was slipping away, feeling himself slipping into unconsciousness. "NO!" He roared, activating the jets on his boots and flying back onto a building. Ronin hit his head hard, slipping away into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. Ozzy's eyes darted wide open, he was back to his heroic self. Still he remembered everything he had just down, with great horror. He stood up on his feet, his body was killing him, yet he soldiered on. He set a few more explosive arrows onto his bow. Sending them after whatever was left of his deadly foe.
"So now will you tell why you've dragged me in here? I have places to be, y'know." The ever feral beastling, Ophelia, asks as she stands in the alternate realm. The answer comes in the form of an otherworldy and somewhat beautiful voice, but it was one the fox girl was used to. "Dark things crawl on you're horizon, Guardian, you and you're allies are in great danger." The Fey spoke in they're angelic tone- only to be met with a roll of the girl's eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you say that every time. Just skip the poetry and give me the specifics."
Any mortal to see the Nature-Scape experienced it differently, though most of Ophelia's ancestors saw it as an enchanted forest- which is why this place got that nickname in the stories. The place had quickly lost it's charm by the millionth visit with the annoying faeries (who herself merely looked like a big golden ball of light, with wings), however, so the young hero's sense of wonder was dead whenever she was called out. "... As you wish." The Fey said with a hint of annoyance before continuing. "A powerful being, an embodiment of death and evil made of flesh, plans a large attack... you're allies will soon know of this attack themselves."
Ophelia listened silently as the magical being spoke, nodding to show she understood. "So you want me to, what, kill-?" The beastling started to ask, only to be interrupted with a quiet screech-like sound from the faerie matriarch. "No! You must not battle this being, you haven't learned enough to face entities like this yet. You must help save lives off the main battlefield- this being is a tactician and will war on more than one front." The Fey said quickly... expressing it's sincere concern for Ophelia's safety for a few seconds before regaining it's civility. The 'guardian' sighed and nodded once again.
"So you brought me here just to give me a warning... well, thanks I guess." The girl muttered before turning to leave and get back to the real world, but the Fey flew in her way. "Do you naturally assume we only use our words in scenarios like these? We offer our direct assistance to you, Guardian, please turn back around." The girl's brow arched for a moment before turning around, finding a small faerie hovering just a few inches from her face.
"This is Rhoswen- one of our cleverest scouts, she is the one who brought this information to our attention... she is also the one we appoint to watch over you." Ophelia stares at the blue-hued being flying around her head almost silently, rolling her eyes at the final comment. "She means SPYING on me." The beastling thinks to herself before turning back to the Fey as she began speaking again. "Rhoswen used to accompany you're great uncle as his invisible companion, so we have decided that she would be helpful in you're journeys; assist you in reaching you're full potential." The flying blue creature landed softly on the guardian's shoulder as she listened to the Fey.
"I thought faeries didn't like leaving here? Secrecy and stuff like that?" Ophelia asked as she turned to the winged orb, raising a brow at it... or, well, her. "Most of us are content with our home here, safe from the threats to humanity, but Rhoswen is an adventurous sort- much like yourself. Our magic shields her from the eyes of mortals unless they have some magical ability or, well, she chooses to let her presence be known to them. Now please... return to you're world so that you two may become more acquainted." Without giving the fox girl the chance for another word, the Fey flashes a bright light and they disappear.
After exiting through the paint-portal, Ophelia wasted no time in leaping from her rooftop and into the streets... and, unknown to her Children of the Damned teammates, the invisible blue fairy Rhoswen followed close behind her. Using a mix of bestial strength, speed, and agility she swept into a group of the mutant militants; with her claws she diced they're weapons into pieces and using her tail she smashed the nearby opponents' skulls. Within minutes she stood triumphant among ten unconscious terrorists... it felt good.
"Look out!"Rhoswen's small voice yelled out, signalling for Ophelia to turn around and see the group of over a dozen more of the Bull's troops- only barely managing to duck into a building before they started firing. "I don't think it would be wise to stay on the streets, Guardian."The fairy says cautiously as it floats near the beastlings face, Ophelia giving it a simple nod before quickly ascending the buildings' stairs. Managing to get back to the rooftops in no time at all, the girl dashes across the skyline... searching for any civilians to help rather than blindly jumping into every bundle of terrorists she saw.
Soon enough she found what looked like a burning building with thick black clouds bellowing out of it's windows, civilians barely being able to stumble out of the exit. "That's weird... it looks like smoke, but I don't smell any flames." The beastling said with a confused tone as she stood at her perch atop another building. "Be careful! This doesn't look natural..."The blue faerie says hesitantly, landing on the girl's shoulder fearfully. Ophelia turned her head and gave the little creature a head before jumping off her perch and approaching the mysterious place.
Just as the young hero makes her way to a window and smashes through it, the strange black mist begins to disappear... or rather move away. Looking around the now visible halls she tries her best to get any unconscious- or otherwise- civilians to they're feet and out of there before chasing after black cloud. After a few seconds of following the mist, she stops at the last doorway; in front of her the cloud was forming into a solid figure, and a black creature of a different variety was facing it, and seemed to be keeping the roof from collapsing.
While the beastling silently surveyed the room, seeing many unconscious or incapacitated people around the room, the black cloud reappeared and cloaked the two beings. "Well, from the sounds I'm hearing, it doesn't sound like the two are friends..." Ophelia thought to herself as she tried to decide what to do next- there was no way she was gonna be able to get the civilians out of there if the thing holding up the ceiling was getting knocked around... so she darted forward towards the cloud.
"Guardian! Cover you're mouth and nose, use you're tail!"The small fairy yelped out just before the young hero entered the black fog, flying away from her shoulder to avoid it. Ophelia did as she was advised, lifting her thick furry tail to her face as she darts through the black cloud... most people couldn't see at all inside a mist this thick, but her enhanced eyesight guided her to the target; something that looked like a ninja. In hopes that whatever it was still had not noticed her approached, she threw a five-ton kick towards the the entity's side, hoping to knock the thing right out of it's cloud and maybe even through the wall of the room.
Under the bright shield of the All-American, hundreds found a way to safety. Caravans of trucks and a fleet of large semis offered their services to ferry the wounded and the scared to nearby cities, refugee camps made in the hopes of protecting them for the time being. Anything was better than being forced to stay indoors and wait for death. He wanted to go back for Luke. He really wanted to. He was like a little brother to him, a sibling he had lost so many times over. Twice in the war, and once when he got back. Luke almost looked like them, before the smoke rose.
A glimmer of light, and James swore he could see John, Jack, and Aaron all huddled around the brave little spider, helping him lift the building as it slowly started to collapse.
"Everyone outside now!" Allegiance roared, leaping up and down, breaking through windows and acting as a one-man pulley system, bringing down citizens who were too petrified to move.
But then, a different kind of smoke overtook his senses. This was not the product of fire, but rather the choking sensation of something strangling him. James faltered and lost his grip on the side of the building, feeling someone squeezing his head to the breaking point, but the feeling passed soon enough. He raced inside one final time, bringing the last civilian out of the immediate combat zone.
As he landed, he turned back to try and see if he could get Luke out only to be shut out by a void of vapor he could only barely envision beyond. He slammed his fist on its surface in a desperate attempt to break through. Sacrifices had to be made, but Luke already sacrificed so damn much. Screaming and thrashing, James broke three fingers on one hand, and the shield did not budge. In fact, it seemed to be helping support the building, but at the cost of Luke's safety.
"Damn, damn, damn," he muttered, finding all eyes on him. They were scared, looking for direction, and waited patiently for James to come back to his senses. He was their hero, but Luke would always be his.
"Follow me!" he commanded, and the tides of humanity followed.
---
The truck depot was overrun with panicked refugees, all trying to crowbar their way into the back of a vehicle. Fights started to break out, fights that Allegiance finished with a harsh sentence beginning and ending with "Stop." Organizing something like this on the spot was almost impossible and simultaneously stressful to a degree hardly imaginable by modern, happy-go-lucky people. When everyone you know and everyone they know start piling into a room, things get messy. Now add in the possibility of bombs dropping on their heads, or guns firing off in the distance suddenly coming closer with each second. It's a terrifying experience, one that Allegiance was familiar with. He had to share his strength with everyone, not let them descend into madness.
"Everyone! If I can have your attention please!" he began, and all voices became hushed.
"There are enough trucks to carry you to camps already set up in Landover, Langley Park, and Churchill. What I need for all of you to do is climb into these trucks in an orderly fashion. There will be no room for you to sit, because it takes up too much space. It is approximately a ten minute drive to any of these locations, so please be patient,"
The flare of rifle muzzles echoed about a hundred yards away, and there was a considerable panic. Many feared snipers, but the US military kept a close eye out for any suspicious activity in the nearby buildings.
"Families with children will not be separated. I will ask that friends and family stick closer together so that they will not be lost from each other,"
More gunfire.
"We all gave you colored cards when you came here. Those with red cards line up and load into the trucks on my left, those with blue to my right, and those with white behind me,"
A sniper round connected with his shield as he arced it behind him. Such a calm action for the danger involved seemed to inspire the crowd further. They were not afraid as long as their Allegiance could be found.
"Military personnel will be assigned to each truck for the trip to the camps and back. Now go, and God bless."
---
"If anyone is watching,"
The radio broadcast would be censored, just like any news footage going out of Washington DC. Only personal accounts would be documented in full, and the horrors never forgotten by those who experienced them. Only a few stations would air it, because they did not care about the consequences of exercising free speech. They wanted it to be heard, and the nation's capital had been put under siege by terrorists and that the world had to listen, and fight.
"My name is Allegiance,"
Gregory Harris, the young boy from the burn ward, would hear it as he recovered in a crowded hospital in Bethesda. His own little radio, plugged in with a earphone jack that went into his only good ear. He would be scarred for life, physically, but his heart never wavered. His little heart never shattered, never broke. His family thanked God. He only thanked Allegiance for that strength to go on.
"And I believe in this country."
More than thirty thousand people thanked him for sharing his strength. His modesty would never permit him to say 'you're welcome,' but his courage would always propel him onward.
There were still half a million people to save, after all.
"Ivana, I did my part. Outside of alerting the Champions of Peace, but let's be honest; if they don't help then America will eat their asses out. Until that eventuality, I have one more favor to ask of you. Kill the Brahma Bull and your mother is as good as alive. Got me, miss thing? I hope so, because I have faith in you. I believe in you. And there's a damn soul that's on par with you. With that said, I won't be taking anymore business calls that aren't about his death. I've got more important things to handle."
The Strigidae knelt upon a disk of galvanized steel. The darkness of the cavern surrounded her, illuminated only by harsh beams of florescent lights. Nanocarbon armor wrapped her athletically muscled body. A high tech sword and bow were prepared with all the ritual of the ancient samurai. Clara's words swirled around her, filling the echoing void of the cavern and Ivana's lips twisted into a scowl.
Arrachtach noticed. His furry blue eyebrows climbed toward the sky. "Something the matter, I take it?"
"Humans, Tach." An undertone of bitterness and frustration crawled through her Russian accented soprano.
"I do not suppose you could be more specific?" His guttural voice echoed through the cave, strained from forcing human words through half animal vocal cords.
"Clara changed the deal. Instead of me helping her navigate her enemies she wants me to kill the Bull. And she's dangling the only thing she knows I want in front of me."
"Ah. That is.. most troubling." The sapphire furred mutant beast and the black cloaked assassin set in silence for a time.
Arrachtach spoke first. "..And shall you?"
Silence fell once more and Ivana felt as if an invisible pressure pressed upon her armored shoulders. It was as if the murky darkness of the cavern had been filled by all the weight of her history. The Civil War. Venezuela. The Hellfire Club. Kamelot. Gothic City. Avalon. She had fought so hard for so long.
Ivana remembered her mother. She remembered a cold presence, a judging gaze. As a young child she had feared Shirzad with such a feverish intensity that she would weep when her mother entered the room.
Shirzad had been bewildered and silently enraged; she was suppose to love her daughter. But she didn't. Her child wasn't beautiful, she was loud, disgusting and ugly. The garden of her heart, where love, tenderness and a fierce maternal pride should have grown was barren, and the weeds of resentment soon filled it. Shirzad despised her daughter and Ivana grew to fear her.
Her childhood was brutal. Ivana gave it her all; she trained and studied as if the fate of the world hung upon her efforts. And perhaps her small, child's world did. It was never enough. No accomplishment could win Shirzad's love.
The years ground on. Ivana's childish terror ignited the sparks of confused, wounded rage. Rage burned into black embers of soul-deep hate. Shirzad's resentment turned to contempt and she wielded the temptation of approval like a lure and the bitter ache of rejection like a scalpel.
Ivana's heart was a mass of calloused scars, and one day she exploded. She attacked Shirzad upon a snow covered field. They fought, claw against claw, with terrifying savagery.
Ivana won and it was butchery.
She remembered standing snow that was glittering ivory splattered with glistening crimson and realizing the two most important things of her entire life.
There was no going back.
And she could do anything.
You couldn't cut the woman who gave birth to you into pieces and then somehow 'find redemption' and go over to the good side. Though still half child she was bad for life, and she knew it. It didn't matter what she wanted to be now. It didn't matter what good she did now. Some blood you can't wash out.
But it also dawned upon her that no taboo bound her anymore. If she could do -this- she could do anything. Murder anyone. Betray anyone. Tell any lie, indulge in any debauchery, make any sacrifice. All roads were open now.
Time marched on. Months turned into years. Years turned into decades. Ivana begin to wonder if she could change the results of what she had done. Return her mother to life. After all how many times had Quintus died? Perhaps she could have her cake, and eat it too.
So she had gone to Clarice and made a deal. A deal that swiftly unraveled.
Ivana shook herself free from her memories and answered Arrachtach's question. "No. I'd be willing to save Clarice's Presidency, stall the Bull with a pack of disposable heroes and bend my Strigidae oath's a little. But kill the Bull? End the life of a fellow Strigidae?"
"No." She ran a matte black gauntlet over her ponytail and undercut. "There is a whole mutant race out there and it has to survive. If not, what was the point of me? Everything I've accomplished, everything I've endured, every unthinkable act I've committed every spark of agony every drop of blood- and not just mine, but the people I've murdered. If mutants don't survive then I, and everything I've done, has been pointless."
"Notify the Bull. Tell him 23 is coming to aid him."
Breaching the perimeter of the whote houses security Cassius knew that alarm would be tripped, but with the work of Dr steele covering his movements he would be able to move forward hopefully unhindered by the responce teams no doubt stationed for such an approach, hopefully they would be occupied elsewhere with the bull. Running full tilt across the open ground between his breach and the his target Cassius drew his firearms and run cleverly between the ranks of the forces firing a couple shots back over his shoulder, this combined with suited attire and replica badges of his disguise would at least cover anybody still in their own minds watching the cctv with doubt. Reaching a secuirty point the lone Knightfall was greeted by four men. An x branded in each of their foreheads sending a steady of blood down their faces. "You are i need to talk about the art of subterfuge Dr Steele. Have you located Quintus?. I bet he is here somewhere"
His mind suddenly flickering to the warroom inside his head accessing the memories of his last visit. Their is a bunker under here, but where was the access. Flashes of a map he barely remembered seeing fixed at the front of his mind, the influence of the good doctors mental multitasking helping he regather his thoughts. I need to find the air vents thats the easiest way down.
Now
Carefully using the blade of his knife to twist free the screws holding the steel grating of the vent free. This was it this had to be freeing the panel and looking downwards. A long thing metal box heading deeply into the distance. Has to be a hundred feet easy at the least. Dropping a glowstick to gauge the dangerous decent. The dim light fading and vanishing before a faint tap could be heard as it struck the bottom. "This is insane, this is crazy" He told himself as he climbed into the vent shaft pressing his back to oneside and locking his arms and legs and began slowly crabbing his way down the long decent. The mind controlled cronies following suit.
Several tiring minutes in Cassius was regretting strapping a heavy briefcase to his wrist his every reset and shift further downwards casuing it to rattle and jar against his wrist. This better have some pay off he thought as evry part of his body was already aching as his continued the decent towards the cold war bunker deep beneath the whitehouse.
Reaching the bottom of the shaft his back and arms filled with lactic acid his muscles spasming in responce to the stress they had just suffered. Now enduring a new problem, after a sweaty and tring decent he found himself on the outside of an apperently heavily occupied bunker, torrents of hot air flowing towards him baking him underneath his smart special agent style suit. Finding an exit Cassius started to work the screws before finally dropping into a room. Instantly having weapons drawn on him as he did so. Apperntly the good doctors reach only went so far. Each of the guards coming through after him. It was gonan take some first class acting to get him out of this mess. "Madam president we have a situation" one of the guards calling in his breech via a secuity com.
It was times like these Cassius thanked that he wore a mask most of his adult life.
Releasing a statement via the champions Youtube page Edward livestreamed his responce to the attacks in the USA
" The champions of peace stand for the equal treatment of all people mutants and humans alike. This militant action is a crime and our support will be given to the people of the united states at this time. However i will not fight against the people your country has oppresed. This conflict has been brought about by fear mongering and the recent line of presidents not doing what they should have. The mutant issue as it has be dubbed has become this generations apartheid, a rift has been driven between the state and its people. Mutantkind and powered individuals deserve the same freedoms as any other citizen and i shall not fight for a cause that doesnt honor this. I speak for not only myself but other champions who will not betray their own in order to help people who created the problem for themselves.
For thoose of you who have had to be evacuated from the conflict zone, you will recieve our protection and our supplies. Which are already on their way. But for thoose of you whom would continue to enforce the persecution of anyone different from yourself you deserve a wake up call its the twenty first century."
"You devout extremist, egotistical, blind as a bat, bottom feeding bitch!" In the company of herself, the bare breasted billionaire baroness exclaimed with the fury of a thousand scorned women as she threw her iPhone 5s against the wall, watching it shatter with an almost transfixed expression.
"You don't choose Miley Cyrus....when you've got Beyonce." Unable to maintain her composure during a time of absolute duress, the brashly forward thinking president nearly unraveled at the seams, only keeping herself together for the sake of saving humanity from the plight of mutant kind.
However, unbeknownst to her enraged mindset the viral atmosphere had gun haywire with yet another YouTube video uploaded by the unexpected addition of @edwardwindsor. Although unaccustomed to his body work, considering the Champions of Peace aren't at all active, the President of these United States would surely be insulted if she heard yet another array of inflammatory comments emerging from the mouth of someone whom didn't know shit about her or her administration.
Nevertheless, having been deprived of an actual friendship with Ivana (@strigidae_23) and the savory thought of @brahma_bull's murder, the formerly calm and collected metaphysically empowered woman had begun her gradual descent into a state of fearfulness, not for her own well being, but for the people outside her base of operation. It's during this time of up fearfulness that she stepped out of warm waters, put a simple white bathrobe on, wrapped her hair in a towel, and entered the quarters from which her secret service stood. Yet, upon her entry the wet witch noticed the absence of her guardsman, which in turn resulted in the activation of her telepathy.
"Who's there?" She exclaimed, slightly nervous as to who could have penetrated the hefty White House defense. "Brahma?" Miss Pierce shyly inquired, her heart racing as she stepped more so inward, unknowing of the presence of @cassius_knightfall, the brother of Quintus Knightfall, a man whom she soundly apprehended some time ago. No matter the intruder, the idea of using her powers left the Clarice in a precarious situation, considering the fact that she wasn't certain if it'd negatively effect her previous manipulation. It's because of this that she placed hands up, actually believing she could handle hand to hand combat. Truthfully, how hard could it be?
"WHAT THE HELL", Ayana said with confused expression on her face. "Contact White House security somehow they got in through behind our forces", and looking through one of the helicopter cameras showing a shadowy figure walking straight past several security guards and STRIKE special forces! "Doesn't make any sense unless some method of invisibility or something was used to trick my soldiers and now that he's in the White House in get to the Pres., have a team get in there and get the intruder!"
As a STRIKE tactical team enters the White House they were escorted to the secret area where the elevator was to get to the presidential bunker. When they got to the elevator door and found that it was melted by some sort of acid or chemical-based compound one of the members of the tech team looks through it without touching the sides and saw that the elevator below had been melted away on the ceiling! " BREACH THERE'S BEEN A BREACH IN A PRESIDENTIAL BUNKER QUICK GRAB SOME ROPE OR SOMETHING WE GOT A GET DOWN THERE!" a tactical team Lieut. yelled to the other teammates and Secret Service.
At the same time outside the White House
As Comanche attack helicopters patrol the area around the White House including the streets and buildings and Museum surrounding the rest of the STRIKE ground forces take defensive positions being told over the radio that Bull has been cited in the area! Little is known about their opponent so they gear up check there ammunition and their equipment and look down their sites in every which way around the White House looking for any potential enemies when all of a sudden allowed explosion the left side of the White House erupted destroying some of the fence! "SECOND BREACH, SECOND BREACH...WHITE HOUSE FENCES HAS BE......chhhhhh" the radio cuts off as the STRIKE special forces come under attack by multiple militants! The militants carrying RPG's, AK-47s and semi automatic handguns, a breach the left side of the White House parameter enforce!
One of the Comanche attack choppers gets in position for a gun run as it dodges an RPG by a near several inches, "hellfire, hellfire, hellfire"! the Comanche attack helicopter unloads Hydra rockets into the massive militant grounds each coming through the gate killing over 50 of them! As the Comanche attack helicopter flies away and comes around for another past the finish off the breach to RPG strikes the attack helicopter destroying it in a huge fireball explosion! with only three attack helicopters left the remaining two at the White House engage the breach section perimeter killing the rest of them militants. Ground forces attack units pick off any stragglers before they can even reach to the building.
The white whale five minutes later
back on the white whale CNN starts headlining the news of the Washington attack and they attack on the White House itself. Giving how the new speculates and loves to over exaggerate they give out false information and information they somehow acquired from an unknown source that the president's Bunker has been breached from an unknown! Lt. Col. Ayana sitting in the Capt.'s chair aboard the white whale on the bridge smirks at CNN's report as she ponders how they got that information out so quickly. "This is not looking good, contact the Pentagon"! she said to her com officer on the bridge.
The valiant evacuation of aghast, bleached civilians occurred middling auspicious. Reckless onslaughts such as Bull's were constantly sprouting across the globe, winsome efflorescence of cataclysmic petals, magnetizing lowest fanaticism as flies are enthralled by the brilliancy of a coruscating lamp. Turmoil scrubbed cities, tarnishing it cadaverous burgundy, equal to the color of the pungent, savory, extolled Château pouring at crystal goblets inside the triumphant presidential suite. Clean-handed people relinquished their lives, frigid corpses entombed on massive graveyards, bountiful scorched. A purge promoted by obnoxious figures and all the soi-disant heroes aspired accolades selfishly. Luke's time as a hero was quasi-distant, yet he reckoned pronto priorities. Thus his simper as scatterbrained eyes discerned the Star-Spangled Super Soldier and his benevolent heart.
Abruptly, the magnanimous, lion-hearted arachnid was enveloped in dusk haze, constraining him puissantly and consternating the howling beast within. Rapidly assuming an anthropoid frame, its obsidian features garnished by stupendous mist. Nobody did not flinch, using a single tendril to wipe the fog onward. "Silent but deadly, I presume." Nonchalantly quipping, hard-boiled demeanor well-nigh worn off as Luke gradually whooped. A supercilious grin as his Exoskeleton tightened and veiled a jerry-built visage, renowned by his frivolous, untamed behavior, the Swarthy Spider foresaw the outcome. Propelling strenuousness carved in cogent strikes. The natural armoring endured partially, sore distributed in waves. One fist, another, another, another. A flurry of quickening, projectile-like assaults once. Twice. Thrice.
Luke dwindled, cornered now by two foes. One carbon-copied from the other. Mind oscillating turbulently, the herculean Nobody succumbed to one knee. Twain arms erected above his denuded, feeble torso. "N-not gonna hap-ppen, punk." Squinting eyes enunciated what a tremulous jowl could not, a ferocious twinge seized his chastened spine. Imagery of the soon-to-be dead glistened his conscience. Parched lips, brandishing an acetic smirk and acre scent encountered the metallic, circumspect surface of an argent flask as he savored what perchance was his hindmost drink. Ache was merely an annoyance, clenched wrists pummeled aback and forth, he accustomed. A straightforward smile rekindled his sidelined soul. From Natasha, morphing into Pest, then Daniel, Allegiance. Faithful friends who had forfeited emphatically to his self-indulgent causes.
Sluggishly he ascended, reinvigorated, overlapping pain with raw passion, a lingering flame vehemently revitalized. Thuds of throbbing beads of carmine blood reverberated, he expelled it brazenly. Callously calculating, Luke permitted his barbaric self to control, keen-edged teeth surging as a gap, resembling a vicious, monstrous mouth exposed itself. A withering tongue jolted, endeavoring to tie his foe's arm for a devastating crunch, bound to cause dreadful affliction, corkscrewing sturdier and sturdier as its mass intensified, sharp tendrils torpedoed ubiquitously, pirouetting, gyrating and whirling to dissipate the fog. "We tired of gamesssssss."Its thunderous roar resonated.
Light on her feet. Padded soles. Innate sense of balance. Good coordination. But she forgot that her target saw her coming, even if the one she attacked did not. His shadow watched as she approached from the smoke, and Tobias slithered his molecules away into a pseudo-gaseous state. Once she struck his midsection with the kick, she would twirl right through, trailing a wisp of black vapor as she would recover in whatever way she saw fit.
Tobias solidified, mostly, but kept his half-gas half-solid state. Considerably lighter now, he would not hit as hard but he was ready for any further surprise attacks. He could just choke her on a roomful of smog, so physical confrontation did not seem necessary. The dome of smoke he already commanded expanded outward, chewing the building apart. Thanks to Allegiance, no lives were taken, but those trapped in the lobby were still in immediate danger. Luke no longer had to carry the weight of a townhouse, though, but he still could not escape without Tobias' taking the dome down.
He glared at either opponent through his two sets of eyes. Man and shadow, a perfect fighting combination. Taking an instantaneous battle stance, they raced into combat. Tobias the flesh still kept his lighter composition, interested in picking this new fox-themed heroine apart. Despite his pseudo-gaseous state, he could still hit considerably harder than most humans. Added to that, he could also empower his strikes with jettisons of smoke. Furthermore, the passive ash and smog he exuded would build up in his opponents' lungs on either side, making them weak and more susceptible to his relentless onslaught.
Meanwhile, Tobias the shadow remained equally vigilant, saying nothing and sparing no clues in his foreboding white eyes. It existed between states, breaking apart as Luke's transformed state thrashed wildly, endangering his fox friend more than Tobias in either flesh or shadow. The smoke he tried to dissipate only reformed within the hardened smog prison, and fell back into place without reprieve in their subtly hate-filled motions for genocide.
Together, they engaged in the time-honored passion of melee. Any attempt to keep them at a distance would be met with the same result as shooting a bullet at a cloud of fog. Breathable air became an increasingly rare commodity in this environment, in which polluted oxygen and Tobias' smoke were steadily replacing such a resource.
Continuing into this crucible of war, Tobias the flesh and the shadow both initiated their fights at the same time, perfectly mirroring each other, as well as watching each others' backs, providing boundless support at the same time as infinitely punishing physicality.
They were in his world now, even as the smoke barrier around them started to fluctuate and fade away. The damage - perhaps - would already be done, considering the unbound ferocity of Tobias the flesh and the shadow working in incomparable tandem with each other. The objective for the homunculus now was to obliterate his opponents before the dome completely wore off.
Tobias the shadow already targeted the spider, striking at the muscles that would be sore from holding up the building from before. Arms, legs, core, anything that would have provided support for the column of flesh and bone that the hardened shadow now manipulated to his fingertips. Each strike would be precise, sharp, and potentially life-altering or ending. No expense would be spared.
Tobias the flesh had his eyes set upon the fox, keeping mindful of her tail that seemed to act as a makeshift gas mask. It did not seem to stop anything from entering her eyes, otherwise she would not be able to fight at full capacity. Therefore, he made it abundantly clear what he was aiming at. A hard flat-handed chop towards the bridge of her nose would be the first indication, however it never crossed his tactically-empowered mind to be the last. The Nineteenth Angel kept the pressure on.
Whether by combat or by inhalation of deadly gases, his foes would eventually...
Pounding on the face of some B-lister was hardly what the Lone Wanderer had in mind. It wanted, no needed; craved more fighting, more battles, more slaughter. The art of war had to be exercised to it's utmost limit, and it craved the deaths of more. But how to draw more here, how to have more fights, how to bathe itself in the blood of thousands and decorate the walls with the guts of the heroes it lusted after the deaths of.
First of all, it decided that it needed to instil terror in the white house. Make a grand show of threatening it's very gates as the mutants and undead approached the modern fuhrer bunker. Striking at the white house would provide an opportunity for heroes to notice it and fight it, where it could revel and exult in the sculpture of battle rather than wail on a single opponent. It leered at it's enemy as a series of aggressors behind it charged at one another to slam into one another and collapse into their base nanites; oozing and linking up with one another at a subatomic scale to build yet another body out of the grey goo, this body shrieking as it declared it's new life.
Looking back at the Allstar, it made the most unsettling laugh that would remind one of metal scraping on chalk and drew forth an empty hilt with some sort of projection bulb on the edge; the purpose of which became clear when a blade like projection of anti-reality glowing impossible colours ejected out of the hilt like coronal mass from the sun during a flare. But it did not plan on killing the All star, not yet. If allowed to, it would dissolve the body attacking All star into nanites so that he could join the fight against Eliminator somewhere else. A place where he would have to fight if he had any sense of loyalty to this country.
Rather, it stabbed it's blade into the air. And impossibly, it stabbed *into* something. A horrendous screech went through the air as all onlookers could see the Eliminator jabbing it's blade into something that had no business being pierced. Horrendous cracks formed in the air, all shrieking and hissing with hues of colours no one, man or mutant, had ever seen before. Then it started dragging the blade down, cutting into the very fabric of space and time as the shriek rattled bone and teeth alike, and visages of something uncomfortably eldritch could be seen leering through the cracks. Ghosts in the expanse of indescripable colours swam through the window beyond reality like darker shapes in the impossible.
A wound in the universe itself had been dealt, leading to something...unholy. For a moment, there was pure cosmic static as the anti-reality field normalized, then there was the image of something...different. A starry void, an expanse of the cosmos that almost gave the impression of staring back at those who looked in the hole in reality. Images of a cosmos devouring army of purple and chrome robots marching from reality to reality at the behest of something impossibly huge. Which in turn took marching orders from something on a scale so large it was difficult to come to terms with something that big even being allowed to exist. All images that vanished almost as quickly as they appeared, leaving only a surreal, lovecraftian mishmash of noise and imagery as the portal stabilized.
If the anyone dared to follow the Lone Wanderer, they would be assaulted with an onrush of thought as the very briefest glimmers of focus from the being were brought onto them, and hear the onrushing whispers of that which the Eliminator called master before a bubble of normalacy finally erupted over them at the wanderers behest as it stabbed it's anti-reality blade into the fabric of this unpleasant, unnatural universe and emerged at the gates of the Capitol building, right in the middle of the blockade established by Ayana before immediately setting about devouring mass from the ground to form into nanites, announcing it's intentions with an ear splitting shriek as the tear in reality opened up to herald it's presence.
Even as autocannon fire almost immediately wracked it's form, followed up by missiles, it still managed to form a sizeable pool of grey goo, flinching from the relentless military assault as it turned towards the helicopters. "RABBLE! PLEBIANS! PHILISTINES!" It snarled with outrage as it brought forth it's divine steel electro-staff, recoiling from a barrage of autocannon fire before righting itself and letting loose a huge arcing streak of purple lightning, the powerful throbbing hum of electricity and the thunderclap of displaced air complementing the strange site of plasmafied air following the electricity like a stream, incinerating the front half of the helicopter and detonating it's ammo stores in a fiery blossom and thunderous boom.
Leaping forward as a trio of Electrical Protectorate hunter-killers, a not insignificant number of crab-like malacostratas, aggressors, reflex light tanks, and gremlins, the wanderer exploded into a cloud of nanites in response to further attempts at gunning it down, avoiding the potential damage of circuit breaker EMP warheads by dispersing it's femtoparticles enough to register as gas to the missiles before coalescing into a swarm of flying metal blades, losing some mass to heavy weapons fire that managed to track it as it raced across the front lawn of the white house, but nothing it couldn't make up by latching onto one of the remaining apaches and devouring it in mid-flight in a terrifying process of real time flaying before coalescing at the front doors of the capitol into it's preferred body.
Behind it the trio of bulb headed, tank tracked hunter killers immediately opened fire with gatling automatic weapons, sending a rapid stream of energy pulses into just about anything that so much as twitched and did not register as a mutant, undead, or robot for the sole purpose of causing terror while bombastically shouting "RUN COWARDS!" or "BEWARE WE LIVE!" or "WE WILL TEAR YOUR #%!ING GUTS OUT AND HANG YOU WITH THEM" or "THIS IS THE END OF YOUR WORLD YOU WORTHLESS BASE HUMAN SACKS OF &*%)!" It was likely that the military could take them out given time, there were only three of them after all, a far cry from the enormous swarms usually used to grind a world into dust, it was certain that any determined hero could put down the anti-infantry slaughterfiends, and the lesser machines continued to be felled by national guard fire in large numbers, as they only had numbers to back up their play and hardly anything resembling "individual power". Hardly a serious threat to even powerless heroes.
But they weren't here to win the war, they were just here to sow terror and mayhem, to grab attention so that the lone wanderer could have the battle it demanded. Sending out it's controlling frequencies everywhere it could, it broadcasted a message as thousands of pulses a second were sent out of the steaming barrels of the hunter-killers and a carpet of fallen malacostratas, aggressors, and gremlins and the blown apart carcasses of reflexes formed before it at the steps of the capitol building, felled by the military determined to keep this monster away.
"Simpering, uncultured swine who preen themselves as figures of heroic thought and deed! I AM HERE! HERE AT YOUR MONUMENT TO AUTHORITY! The very heart of your so called "Free world!" And I will ensure that your precious legislators shall sign the writ of their own demise unless you meet me in battle! All your effort to defend your president, and look at this attempt to protect your law makers! Pathetic! I laugh! Hahahaha! Now face me in five minutes, or see these men of "congress" burn for the glory of the new order of mutant and machine! Those who meet my challenge shall not be hindered by these machines, you have the word of the Eliminator Omega. This is my challenge to your weakness, to your boorish so called "culture". Come here, so that we may see who is truly the master painter of death!" It said, making sure to try and reach every broadcast frequency it could, internet wifi, radios, television, anything it could tap into would do. Those who followed the assault on new york more than a year prior would recognize this machine as the attempted nuker of new york, now with a scheme to create yet another gallery of death.
It wanted a fight, it *needed* a fight. Let the bull have the president, it would either have a fight at Capitol hill or it would see it burn to the ground.
This... well. Wow. This didn't seem particularly good.
Nyx -- dammit, Brimstone! Remember your code name, girl! -- paused in her tracks at the edge of the rooftop where the Children of the Damned had been teleported. Already some... kinda... robot... thing? was making havoc and turning the battlefield into something that belonged on the cover of an issue of Crossed. Did she even have the firepower to handle that thing in her Brimstone get-up?
She shook the thought out of her head. That didn't matter. She was a hero, had to be a hero for Ophelia. And when you were a hero it didn't matter if you were going to win or not... you still had to try. And hey, on the bright side, robots don't have souls -- so the Passage Codex couldn't do a damn thing to prevent her from ripping this thing a new one.
Hellfire sizzled beneath her skin, heating her up to steel-welding degrees as she leapt off the rooftop, leaving a trail of incandescence behind her as she charged forward. Her eyes blazed a deep crimson and she fell towards the rampaging robot like a comet from the sky, hitting with a fraction of the weight but just as hot. "Come get some, motherf***ahhhhh!" she roared out.
@nymphixia: The glory of battle was upon the insane blood knight. When it turned up to see the source of the incoming noise, it actually, insanely, and loudly laughed out in it's Steve Blum esque voice as it made gestures reminiscent of milking an invisible cow. "GOOD! GOOD! MORE! MORE! I demand more blood, more killing, more combat!" It gleefully cackled as it made no effort to dodge the comet blast, wanting to feel the full measure of her power and let it's quantum conscious get to work analyzing her.
To her credit, she fried a full half of the nanites in his body and pulverized him into scattered grey goop. She was substantially above the machine in terms of raw durability and strength without it purposefully augmenting itself in some fashion, and while it had instant reflexes, she had reflexes so quick that the difference was purely semantical at this point. But before she could congratulate herself, the machine began to eat at the ground, it's ineffable possessive spirit guiding the nanites to rebuild it's body, reform it into it's lanky, leering form once more.
"Good shot! Marvelous! Exquisite! But can you give an encore?" The Eliminator said as it's nanites re-interlocked with one another, hardly giving any pause or thought to the fact that half of it's body was annihilated and it's need to absorb further mass. It decided that rather than allow her to rest on her laurels, it would truly press her limits, taking out a pair of rune encrusted swords likely taken from one of many european pantheons, probably the Tuatha De Dannan or the Aesir given their nature as broadswords. But these were not just ordinary swords, but blades it had put under the high-frequency treatment process.
The blades vibrated at incredible speeds and crackled with yellow power and dancing arcs of electricity; vastly enhancing their cutting power as well as adding to their strength. Spinning the twin broadswords in it's flexible grip, it made a show of forming a pair of slanted whirling discs out of the spinning swords to present to her no easy angle of attack as it drew matter from the floor to grow two new arms; which drew yet another pair of swords with which to form death discs by simple rapid rotation, these being angled to cover the rear as it made a steady, implacable advance.
Hot, hissing air could be heard as the incessant hum and crackle of the swords and the sounds of the floor being cut into without resistance could be heard, a dizzying pattern of yellow being seen as it approached until it was finally in striking distance, suddenly exploding into a four armed attack stance where it swung the upper right blade out of the death disc in a horizontal arc aimed thirty degrees downwards, then made an uppercutting stroke with the lower left blade, a heartward jab with the lower right, and a low sweep cut with the upper left, all meant to test her ability to handle this sudden blitzkrieg of sword strokes.
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