Pandemonium - RPG

@eliminator_omega_returns:

"Oh for f***'s sake, when did General Grievous f*** the T-1000?" Brimstone backpedaled, her eyes widening beneath the red visor that protected them from... well, pretty much nothing at this point. She wasn't sure how those energy blades would react to her super-hot skin but she was quickly coming under the impression that without "demoning-out" she was going to be absolutely screwed.

She continued to back up, doing a backflip over a group of bloodthirsty mutant soldiers and using them as shields for a moment, enough to see what those swords were capable of doing. As she was immediately showered with blood and various body parts it became outstandingly obvious and she turned, digging her superheated fingertips into the wall of a nearby building and starting to frantically climb upward. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for anyone she recognized... anyone who might notice if she changed forms. She glanced back at the nanite-monster whirling towards her and swallowed hard, hiccuping and trying to climb faster, hoping to get out of range before the thing caught up. Never thought she'd end up running away from her very first battle in this whole mixed-up situation.

@blooddiamond: @brahma_bull:

''Ironic! You call yourself a messiah and try to shove 'your' idea of natural order as the truth? I don't know but it sounds like hubris and wasn't hubris the reason Icarus fell?'' A smile took over her face. This felt strange to her, since she was also scared by the behemoth that's called Brahma Bull. Looking into his crimson eyes, the fury incarnate. She was certainly scared but somehow she felt brave at the same time.

Being face to face with The notorious Brahma Bull, Munashe knew that a tiny mistake would surely be her last. That was the reason for her instinctive movements coordinated with the movements of The Bull. As the grenades left the hands of her adversary, Mun took a step forward. Moving the spear that she held parallel to her body in a triangular stance, towards one of the grenades to send it to the Bull's minions that she threw out of the field before, with a wind attack. Another spear move to another greenade to hit the other minions and then a backflip. As she got readied herself for her next move the plane crashed on to the Bull. In the last second she tried to stop the grenades but the explosion that met with the strong gust she created broke her balance, throwing her in a way and her spear to another one.

She heard cracking sound with an immense pain back ribs as her back crashed onto the ground and smell of burnt flesh came out of her left hand. The explosions followed another one and in the end, the furious flames that came out from the crashed plane, moved without mercy to take Munashe with it. Instincetively moving her legs in a chopter like movements she got up somewhat ine spinning motion. The flames obeying her commands, moved with her body movements to create an orb shaped safe place for her. Trying to disregard the pain that comes out from her ribs, she moved her hands up and slowly lowered while exhaled with the same speed. The flames around her lowered down showing the princess at the bottom of a fiery pit.

Her gaze on the injured Brahma Bull, she inhaled a deep breath. The flames first took a somewhat a darker hue but with her exhale of the breath she took the flames started to burn itself. Growing bigger and fierce, the flames changed colours from red to a brighter blue as they turned into Munashe's speciality the spiritual flames. Her grip on the ground and connection with the earth giving her a clear feel of Brahma Bull's body. Feeling his heart rate, seeing her body and scanning her newly acquired scars, Mun changed her stance. Another breath in and out. The spiritual flames took shape of a dome around her with only a little openning to give her a clear vision. She readied her body.

With the arrival of another COP, Munashe waited for the vampires move. As the vampire started moving Munashe too started hers. First a few jabs to throw out fireballs that's carefully coordinated with the vampires movements for trying to render The Bull unable to avoid one of the attacks. The fireballs thrown at The Bull would seek his weaker spots that were opened by the recent explosions through Munashe's complete control over them for a stronger impact. After the first few jabs she would create the fiery whips out of the dome and move them to whip The Bull's body rapidly while specifically targeting the weakest points and scarred parts.

Fires and flames scorched the evening air as chaos and mayhem erupted in the treasured capital of the United States of America. Lena had come equipped, more equipped than perhaps any other civilian in the streets. The specialized skintight suit she was wearing beneath her street clothes would protect her from blunt force or piercing damage - Santi had ensured it, insisting that she take any means possible to protect herself.

The minute rebreathing device she slipped on was nearly microscopic, designed to be utilized without obscuring her face.

People who had been unfortunate to be outside ran through the streets as screams punctuated the air. Others ran from their residences with everything they could carry in their arms in an attempt to flee the city that was currently under siege.

For many it was an ill-fated attempt as Brahma and his acolytes seeded the air with detrimental drugs, only adding to the chaos.

Lena ran against the crowd. She knew that instinct for most was to run away from the danger, take the high ground to safety, so to speak. That had never been her MO. That was never where the truth that she was looking for was, and so again, she refused to take the safe option and instead waded deeper into the midst of insanity.

Camera out, she was continuously taking footage. The world needed to know the truth. The world deserved to know the truth, and in these moments, that was Lena’s function - to ensure that the truth escaped, even if she did not.

The footage of Allegiance, the Star Spangled Savior, would go viral within moments. GIF’s would be posted in Buzzfeed articles, news channels would take moments from skewing coverage in their bias to prop him up as the symbol of hopeful patriotism that he was.

And then she cut back to the civilians.

The sound of a little girl frantically crying broke her out of her filming reverie, and she knew that there was no way in hell - and this was very much the embodiment of such a location - that she could ignore it.

Darting down an alleyway, the sight that was before her took her heart in a steady grasp and squeezed it hard.

The little girl had her back against one of the alley’s walls. Lena estimated her to be no more than four years old. Straight silky black hair framed her face, and almond-shaped eyes were filled with tears as she transitioned her sobs to silence, with the natural instinct of somebody who knew that if they continued to make noise, they elected themselves as prey to the predators of the world.

Crouching down before her, Lena cooed softly, whispering soothing words to calm the young child. She managed to get a name out of her, and continued to address her by it, to build a personal connection between the two.

Gaggles of people were running by, passing through the mouth of the alleyway as they frantically tried to find some means of escape from the city, some form of shelter. Many of them were under the influence of the drugs that Brahma and his cohorts had released into the air in other sections of the city, part of their tactical assault to introduce different methods of terror to different quadrants in order to leave people unable to discern what was where. It was brilliant, she thought, brilliant and cunning.

“Shhh, shhh, come with me, sweetie. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise,” she whispered as she pulled the young girl into her arms, propping her up against her hip as she jogged lightly towards the opening of the alley.

Something in the air shifted as a civilian, clearly under the effects of a mind altering substance, entered the alley.

Lena’s heart pumped as she quickly put Alison down next to her, stepping in front of the little girl, who instinctively hid behind Lena.

He was dressed in a nice suit, the watch at his wrist sparkled in the flame and smoke-laden air. He looked every inch a well-to-do businessman, but he was frothing at the mouth and rambling incoherently about the gods and monsters.

Lena saw his hands curve into claw-like motions as he lurched forward towards her. Instinctively she positioned herself and utilized one of the throws that Gabri had taught her, effective against a drugged businessman, but, she knew, wholly ineffective against what was lurking out in the darkness of the night.

Planting the sole of her boot against his chest, she didn’t bother pulling a heal-all antidote syringe from her satchel and instead gave him a quick tap, knocking him unconscious before going and collecting little Alison.

One of the military men that Allegiance had recruited passed her, stopping to make sure that both were okay as he rounded up people towards the caravans leaving for safe ground.

“Ma’am, you should really come with me. Bring your daughter and move for safety,” he urged, his impressive 6’3” height allowing him to tower over Lena, and yet his demeanor was not overbearing at all, something she paid close attention to.

Alison nestled her head into the crook of Lena’s neck, an instinctive move of comfort as she murmured something softly against her. Naturally Lena ran a hand over her sleek black hair, comforting her in any little way that she could in these moments of strife.

“I need to get back in there.” She didn’t wait for him to cut her off, and instead continued to plow through. “You know what the protocols are for this. You don’t have to be upper echelon, you just have to have common sense. They’ve got all the important people in the bunkers or evacced them. The governmental, and international, protocols in city-ender situations is to close it off and call it a loss, to institute measures that will eradicate the threat before they can move on. That’s what they’re going to do here if heroes don’t prevail.” He knew it was truth as much as she did, and silently acknowledged it as such as she handed Alison to him.

“Shhh baby, it’s going to be okay. This nice man is going to take you somewhere safe, and he’s going to help you find your family as best he can.” The two adults made eye contact over Alison’s head as he nodded his affirmation, and the girl quietly went into his arms, clinging to him as she had to Lena.

“I need to get back in there. Somebody needs to broadcast what’s happening, to show the world the truth.” Hunkering into her jacket, Lena again faced the crowd, dodging through, further and further into the chaos.

@the_pest: @autocrat: @dwronin:

Technique was flawless well excuted efforts meticulously rehearsed. Advance put forward was impossible for a singular girl in armor to halt. Her ammo ran dry surplus of retaliation came to it's end. Despite all the merit and skill Victoria was a bit disappointed.

An army of mutants was the terrorist insertion at play. How many were there hundreds? Dozens upon dozens of powers capable of being exploited were on the playing field none seemed to be implemented. Give a flier a sniper rifle and nobody could hide. A machine gun in the hands of a speedster could down squads upon squads of opposition. With the right brutes and durable mutants tanks and air craft could be as efficient as if they were made of paper. A good telepath could make a unit function with tighter patterns then any historic counterpart. Those with great senses could track anybody and those with intangibility could assassinate almost anyone anywhere. On this bleak night though the enemy simply were using firearms. She was trained to fight mutants these were just mutts in her way.

High vantage point and flashing light had done it's part in halting oppressors of a clean shot. Winds of war made ranged gunfire complicated there was a reason snipers were often mathematicians and worked in pairs. Hitting a target far down rage could prove challenging often one even had to consider gravity what looked two feet above a target and one foot to his right could end in splattered brains. While a shot with crosshairs dead center on the for head could result in a scraped elbow. Training and computerized support aided her singular fire while the rapid fire was more cover them efficient targeting. Victoria was further assisted by armor scratches were frequent but no bullet actually ruptured flesh. As distance closed she plugged the Lioness suit into the power grid she only had one shot at this. She started by opening the cases of depleted ammo these crates forming broad falling shapes just like any broken down box. As they fell much of the fragmentation grenades were blocked in trajectory. Only a few found Tori. To their credit they did jam some of her circruitry her left leg made imobile. It mattered not though as soon she'd have no armor attached.

It was a one trick pony it sapped so much energy her armor would need to recharge. However it's potency was breathtakingly efficient. Her helm would fold back giving appearance of a lions roaring head. From the maw of the queen of the concrete jungle would come a solar beam hot as the sun able to reduce a building to ash. Thanks to the power grid she could make one complete three sixty. She performed this at the last minute when chance to breach district of power was certain. It was then that a broad stroke of solar charged energy wide and strong enough to level a building this would brush over all she could manage to strike. The roar emanating from the lioness was enough to echo through streets to sound off louder than any firearm or artillery in use.

At the end of this motion the armor would retract to simple backpack energy spent. With that Victoria leaped back to streets below her armor shot it was time to take the fight with her allies. As Tori began the gauntlet like run to Ronin she let advanced mechanics guide her aim. Running and shooting was typically poor in efficiency this however was compensated when machine said when to squeeze the trigger. And finally with distance seized the guardian of the streets used rocket propulsion to reach desired roof.

In one hand was a blade cascaded by electricity enough to make a person go into an epileptic seizure or fry almost any circuit board. In the other hand a blade that glowed like the sun and burned with equivalent heat. "For such visionaries you sure do fight like what you despise. If I should die tonight I ask you show me something new." Victoria wouldn't be shaken by what she'd seen from Oz or the routine lectures of another twisted visionary.

@nymphixia: "Are you scared? You should be! Call your friends! Call your family! Call your lovers! They can all die with you." It said as it drew mass from the ground to form long, roping tentacles, the nanites stripping down the atoms of the floor beneath it and then reforming the particles into some unknown type of metal that flowed freely forward, with eight long tendrils honing in on her with diabolical intent, hissing and shrieking and doing anything but be silent as they sought to catch her in a grip stronger than that of the eliminator's own arms. Silver and chrome tentacles with flashing yellow bulbs at the end and 50s retro segmentation. For an artist, this robot really, really seemed to love dieselpunk and raygun gothic designs.

Any doubt about the similarities of what the Eliminator was doing were eliminated when it chillingly said. "I trust you are familiar with the works of the Japanese. Come a little closer, the fun's just begun! We can make the greatest collaboration! No commissions needed!" It said to freak her out, though it had no real intention of doing anything sexual with it's tentacles, it was a machine that had no innate concept of sexuality or love or lust, any signs of it doing so were always just an act for some purpose, whether to infiltrate or psychologically terrify an opponent. No, the shrieking, gleaming tentacles were just there to rope her in for more battle where it planned to begin strangling her to see if she had the gumption to break out of attempted constriction, limb restraint, and breathing passage violation.

@lioness_: @the_pest@dwronin

Transposed from the cracked concrete pavement to the frigid air of higher aerial elevation, the Hound of Justice's herculean body-lock remained potent and dogmatic in its desire to viciously crush his adversary into an unrecognizable carcass of man. The Autocrat drew no inherent pleasure from the punishment he subjected his foe to, he was no sadist, he was not the Brahma Bull. He was a soldier, dedicated to the ideals of their mission, he would do what was necessary to bring forth an era of freedom for his people, and an era of merciless eradication for those who have wronged them. Ronin's antagonizing bite and the generated electrical shock while commendable in their ruthlessness, could not bypass the sheer might of the Autocrat's elephantine durability.

Abruptly however, the torturous sting of vibranium blades tore through his skin and partially dug into the flesh of his shins and his calves, his monstrous durability managing to halt the desperate bladed assault and while vibranium enabled the penetration of his flesh, Ronin lacked the necessary physical strength to truly capitalize. A disadvantage of his opponent's that the Autocrat was innately grateful for. Still however, the agony was acknowledged and the sharp rise of pain loosened the grip of his hooked hands around his adversary's back, enabling Ronin to dexterously orchestrate his escape and vault off the Autocrat's airborne frame. The ingress of another supposed hero offered little motivation for a shift in his tactics. He fancied himself a far better combatant with far greater physical attributes than the three of them combined, he harbored no concern. With his eyes having yet to fully regenerate, the Hound of Justice relied primarily on his sonar hearing.

Immediately detecting the incoming blast of kinetic energy from his newly arrived foe, the Prince of the Ostracized, recognizing his lack of mobile control whilst airborne, found himself unable to outmaneuver the approaching attack, and so, executing a quick turn, facing the thicker, most durable portion of his body, his back, towards the blast, the Autocrat braced himself and endured. The rapidly propelled matter from the blast was quick to cosmetically superheat his first layer of skin, the bombarding force of a speeding freight train knocking him higher into the air as the Hound growled, not in response to his injuries' pain, but from irascibility. While he afforded himself a series of seconds to gather his bearings following this unacquainted foe's powerful assault, a portion of his guerrilla troops found themselves eradicated by the Lioness' series of tactically sound attacks.

He need no longer allow the numbers of his soldiers to deplete. These three would were no force he could not dismantle on his own, he believed. Issuing a mental command through the communications technology in his mask, the Autocrat instructed his remaining cronies to depart the field of battle and provide fire support for the other troops presently journeying to the city's power delivery system. Turning his airborne frame round, his sonar instantaneously alerting him to Ronin's incoming arrows, the Autocrat was quick to reach for his self-developed Viper-37 assault rifle dangling from his side. A powerful firearm boasting a magazine size of 32 rounds, a maximum ammunition of 288, and a rate of fire of 600 RPM, the Autocrat took aim with the air-cooled, gas-operated, fully automatic bull-pup rifle, accounting for its inaccuracy and medium-range by relying on his sonar for peerless aiming capacity, and fired. 7.62x51mm FMJ armor-piercing rounds blitzed to intercept Ronin's arrows and incite their premature eruption.

Opportunistically exploiting the gathered momentum from what was now his plummet towards the ground, the Hound of Justice's mass accelerated by gravitational potential energy, converting it to kinetic energy to be released upon impact as heat and sound. Closing his fist as he blitzed towards the ground, the Autocrat's objective, to those unfamiliar with his abilities, was unclear. While phenomenally strong, it would not be his physical strength that would provide this attack's offensive might, at least not primarily. No, instead he again made use of his sonar hearing, detecting the most vulnerable structural point in the ground below, upon which he would ebulliently ram his fist, striking with far more power than his natural strength should allow. Distance lessened and his frame accelerated. Bringing his fist down upon impact, smashing into the ground with a pulverizing hammer fist, the Autocrat generated the most explosive of shock-waves. The ground rupturing under its might, buildings collapsing from the outward flailing force as what was not unlike a juggernaut-like explosion of kinetic energy sought to bombard his foes, his arm however, suffering the consequences, finding its muscle tissues shredded and only fractured bone remaining in the eruption's wake.

@adhene: @blooddiamond@_allstar_@strigidae_23

'Perfect', a sadistic grin nearly curling beneath the Brahma Bull's iconic, menacing mask. The spear-wielding elementalist's verbal response came with it a tactical hole for the Gothic City Nightmare to exploit. Unconcerned with the deemed nonsensical 'this' and 'that' spouted from his other, vampiric foe's mouth, the Brahma Bull's hulking frame turned to face the silver-haired girl. His resolute footsteps bringing him forward with rocking quakes that reverberated across the structurally yielding concrete ground, his luminous, soulless vermilion eyes intent on meeting his adversary's with an unblinking gaze. Success had been acquired, she met his gaze while combating her evident fear with emerging courage. Yet the deed had been done.

Eye contact had been achieved. Eye contact, maintained for ten seconds was the only prerequisite to the Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare's recently acquired, supernatural ability to inflict unparalleled psychological trauma on his opponents. Intent on maintaining the girl's ocular attention for those ten seconds, to beguile her into a trap that could not be discerned, the powerful bass of his monstrous voice began. "Messiah?", he paused, internally scoffing at the title, having never once claimed to be that which the girl blindly accuses him of, "Perhaps. But you don't seem to know what a messiah is, girl", a cruelly taunting laugh following as his approach grows closer. With the intention of capturing the girl's attention for the required amount of time with idealistic conversation, he continues the implementation of his 'gameplan'. "A messiah is an individual. One who believes that they and only they are in a unique position to lead a people, to bring forth a radical change to fit their idealistic vision of what ought to be. To believe one can do that requires hubris".

"Messiah is a misleading title", his suffocating body heat encompassing them as he inches closer with every domineering step. "To want to lead a people, to want to decide for the rest of the world what is best for it because you believe you have the answer. I do not hide behind the false-face of a bigoted religion or a benevolent dream for tomorrow. But that is what messiahs need to veil wandering eyes from what they truly seek, from what all of history's messiahs have all sought, power", he continues. "But no, I do not hide behind the title of 'messiah'. I embrace the title's true name. Conqueror", he pauses, standing mere inches before her, his piercing crimson gaze never wavering from her eyes. "Icarus fell because he did not learn to fear the sun. Nothing has changed from the days of your childhood when like Little Red Riding Hood, you feared the Big Bad Wolf. Only this time, it is another diminutive bitch facing a greater monster".

Ten seconds and his ocular powers commence, hoping to seize the established eye contact to trap his adversary's mind within the torturous confines of an illusionary domain entirely subservient to his control. Armed with the ability to alter his entrapped victim's perception of time, should he succeed in imprisoning the youthful spear-fighter in the illusion, he would render the entire ordeal which lasts only several seconds, to seem like an array of days to aggrandize the severity of her psychological torture. She would find herself in what appears to be a frightening domain of slag and burning skies and frigid air. A desecrated, decaying place washed in blood and smeared with excrement as his opponent's greatest fears would emerge to endlessly haunt her, abusing the sensation of fear and forcing her to relive the most traumatizing experiences imaginable, again and again and again, intent on viciously breaking her mind and reducing her to no more than a child in a vegetative state.

Enduring her unleashed incendiary attacks, his natural control over hellfire coupled with his durability enabling him to sustain what was generally only superficial wounds, the Brahma Bull though barely superhuman in his rapidity, darted back with a dexterous back-step, having to halt his desire to savagely cut down the spear-wielder with his black-bladed machete in order to evade the dual assault launched by Allstar, and the vampiric teenager. Leaning his head and upper body away from the waist, implementing a Muay Thai-brand of head movement while exploiting his height to force his armed opponent's initial sword swing to lacerate the flesh on his left shoulder as opposed to his jugular, he darted back, a series of M67 grenade pins falling to the ground before his adversary as a cluster of fragmentation grenades lingering mere inches from her frame sought to detonate and graphically scorch her while steel fragments would fling to violently puncture her.

Meanwhile his back-step's successful evasion of Allstar's generated blast had exposed his katana-wielding not only to the explosive might of his grenades, but to the wrath of the Golden Guardian's blast. Panting somewhat, his physical attributes reverting to those possessed during his pre-Horseman era courtesy of the katana-wielding vampire's initial laceration, the corners of his lips edged upwards in a triumphant grin at the radioed information that Ivana, the 23rd Strigidae was fast approaching to join the fray.

@allegiance: Tombstone to be perfectly honest, though Clarice was scum. He thought Anthony was scum. He thought Ziev was scum. He was disillusioned with Obama, and he hated Bush's guts, he never forgave Clinton for signing the DOMA, he grew disgusted with Bush Sr, he thought Reagan to be a ultra-capitalist madman, and come to think of it the last president he unambiguously liked was FDR. Tombstone never stopped believing in the American ideal, even if he disagreed with just about every leader for the past three quarters of a century. Come to think of it, FDR was the only president he was alive (and unliving) to meet in his long time on the Earth. But America was more than just presidents. America may be a nation rife with partisanship with a constitution most others have copied and improved on, a nation straggling behind others in social reforms and acceptance of minorities, but the ideal that America founded itself on, Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood, that was worth fighting for.

That was what he fought for over the course of nearly a century of unlife, what he fought for in the trenches of France and Belgium in the last days of the first world war. He fought against Nazism, Fascism, Imperialism, Racism, Sexism, Supervillains, Aliens, Monsters, Demons, Gods, Mutants, Robots *everything*, and he was going to be damned if Bull ended America on his watch. Having proactively taken a deadflier and made a bee-line from Japan to America, Tombstone's aircraft easily outraced it's own sound as it streaked over the skies, carrying Tombstone and his ever trusting sidekick Lenore to the fray. "Robots and mutants out to burn DC...and I was having such a wonderful Friday date." She grumbled, having had to be pulled away from her flirtations with a middle school aged boy as the twelve year old ghost folded her arms and pouted.

"This is more important Lenore, and you were born in the eighties anyway, aren't you too old for him." Tombstone said, casting a glance at his suited up sidekick who simply glowered at him. She was chronologically much older than she looked, but the thing about ghosts is that they're very slow to mature personality wise as undeath exaggerates their personality traits and freezes them developmentally. She was still a kid no matter how long she'd lived an unlife. Something Tombstone was quick to remind her of whenever he felt that she was doing something he felt to be dangerous or stupid.

"None of the other Crypt Sentinels get bossed around this much." She grumbles, folding her arms and looking out the window of the aircraft.

"The other Crypt Sentinels can handle themselves, you're my problem." He sternly reminded her as the aircraft approached the city, only for a massive flock of Protectorate gremlins to throw themselves at the plane. Like cyclopean, oversized chrome and purple bats holding guns and sharp scythe limbs, the Gremlins shrieked unnatural sounds as they flung themselves in numbers so huge and in formations so thick that Tombstone initially mistook them for a storm cloud, an illusion the gremlins, under Omega's command, maintained by dispersing into a cloud of femtoparticle sized nanites before rematerializing into their true shape.

The F-22s Tombstone was flying in formation with as an honor guard were shredded before the pilots even had a chance to mutter so much as an "oh shit", their pilots being dragged out to be gleefully torn apart by the winged metal fiends in a gory display as their screams were broadcast across all frequencies over the city to induce terror and fear, a death made a slow, painful, and gratuitous as possible as Tombstone's aircraft was forced to make a dive to avoid the Gremlin flock; which oddly enough, seemed to let him by with minimal resistance as Tesla bolts leaped out of his aircraft and fried many daisy chains worth of the airborne aggressors; sending them piling onto the ground like rain drops, where they decomposed into subatomic nanites to avoid reverse engineering.

A strafing run on a line of aggressors and reflex tanks joining a cadre of the undead and mutants hoping to block off exists to the city were met with the wrath of a sonic gatling gun; flinging forth a storm of shells that exploded into bone shattering, flesh pulping, and metal ripping sonic pulses, the thundercrack of sound tearing apart machine and man alike being heard as he pulled his aircraft upwards and set it to autopilot before jumping out of the aircraft as it was clear that he was needed on the ground.

"Lenore, come in once I secure a teleportation line, I've got a meeting with a kindred soul." He said as he leapt down and out of the plane, exploding into a dark, incorporeal mist through which he was able to scan across the entire body as Lenore herself got out of the aircraft with a single act of teleportation to avoid the incoming mutants seeking to bring the dead flier back down to the ground.

With both heroes split away from the dead flier, Tombstone immediately set about tracking someone he had wanted to formally introduce himself to after picking up his speech. He wasn't quite a god, just a spirit of justice. Known for primarily associating with the dead and shunning the company of the living, he was always thought to be something of the odd one out in the illustrious ranks of heroes who fought the Axis. But that didn't mean he didn't have heart. Appearing as a mass of darkness that then took on the shape of the undying Tombstone, his similarly dead sidekick soon appearing at his side in a more whispy, gray flash of mist.

"Need a hand?" Was all Tombstone said, in truth; it was really all he needed to say.

@_nobody: @beast_hidden_within_mist:

As the beastling closed in and delivered the brutal kick, her eyes widened as her target dissipated into the smog he manipulated. "I probably should of seen that coming..." She thinks silently to herself as she does a complete turn, searching for the elusive opponent. Before she could find her mark, however, a black tendril came seemingly out of nowhere slapped into her side. "Gah!" Ophelia barks out from behind the protection of her tail. Staring down at her wound, Ophelia could see the tendril had slashed her open a little bit, thankfully her magical costume quickly covering the cut up- protecting it from whatever the black mist might hold.

Unfortunately the minute the fox girl managed to look up, she was met with a strike straight to the portion of her face not guarded by her large tail. Yelping like a wounded dog as she stumbled backwards, she found her concentration slipping... her tail fell from her face and left it exposed to the cloud that seemed to consume her. "Dammit, that hur-" Ophelia started to mutter to herself as she wiped her now bleeding nose, being interrupted by a string of coughs. The ash and smoke quickly filled her lungs when she opened her mouth to speak, like water forcing it's way out of a broken dam- every second her senses slowly gave way.

The feral girl let out an attempt at a growl between gritted teeth as she tried to find her enemy, throwing random slashes with her claws in the direction he had been... but although her claws were deadly weapons, in this predicament they were easy to avoid by anyone or anything with half a brain. The invisible faerie, Rhoswen, knew this as she watched the cloud of smog slowly fade away and reveal the incapacitated girl, having fallen to the ground coughing after a few attempted strikes. "Oh no, guardian!"The faerie yelled out despite the fact no one could hear her, flying to the girl's side and tapping against her face to try and wake her up; only to be met with more coughing, and then silence.

"Oh no no no! I'm not supposed to do this, I'm not supposed to do this..."The flying blue orb said to herself nervously until, eventually, disappearing into Ophelia's ear. At first nothing happened, but after a few seconds the beastling's body began to twitch and turn. Body parts twisted and grew, a bright orange fur spread over her body, and finally... the hulking creature, the Wulver, stood to it's feet. "Wait, what? I'm awake?" Ophelia thought to herself as her now glowing yellow eyes surveyed the area, letting out a loud snort before blowing a large amount of smoke and ash from her/it's nostrils. "And alive!"An inaudible voice said from inside her head, the voice of Rhoswen. "No time to explain, but I've done my best to lend you control of you're feral form... use it wisely!" The beast turns away from the shadow person and towards the civilians... fighting a gas would be a waste of time.

@nymphixia: @eliminator_omega_returns:

Darting around the room at extreme speeds the creature quickly lifts any living victims onto it's shoulders before smashing through the wall of the building and into the streets. Managing to find civilian group amidst the chaos, Ophelia drops them off there and ascends back to the rooftop. "Now... where was that buil-" Before the werebeast could finish it's thought, a familiar scent met it's nostrils. "Nyx!... and blood?" Letting out a low growl, the creature sped across the rooftops using it's superb agility to acrobatically search for it's demonic friend- leave the shadow clones and symbiotes to they're own devices.

The beast eventually found what it was looking for as it stared on from it's perch on a nearby rooftop, watching as some kind of metallic monster pursued the demoness-turned-vigilante with shrieking tentacles. "YOU STAY AWAY FROM HER!" Was what Ophelia thought as she willed the werefox to leap and try to tackle the machine, but all that escaped the beast's maw was a monstrous roar. Descending on the robot, the creature threw a 40-ton punch for what it thought was the thing's head, while with the other hand slashed at the tentacles in hopes of severing them from the main machine.

@_ophelia_: @nymphixia

The Lone Wanderer had found yet another challenger to it's great and terrible power, a strike to it's head from an angle it had anticipated, but allowed to get the measure of her power by having it's nanites analyze her incoming fist as it smacked into it's head. Reflexively, the nanites assumed a much harder and more tightly bonded state right at the point of impact, the impact point turning black right at the moment of connection as the staggering blow landed upon it with city block shaking force, the whump and concussion of the shockwave rolling over it as it took a step back on it's digitrade legs to brace itself as it was pounded into the ground, it's body being forced deep into the crumbling concrete into the ground from the sheer force of the impact and actually causing it's head to dip down significantly as it's tendrils were cut, the metallic limbs falling to the ground with heavy thuds before collapsing into more femtomachines, a grey paste on the ground that sought to flow back to it's master.

"I am very impressed, remarkable work, truly you are of great passion and skill. Allow me to show you my appreciation for a kindred soul." It said as it turned it's clawed feet into wheels and backpedaled all the way across the front of the capitol building; it's upper right and left arms rapidly and noisily configuring into some sort of arm cannon while the lower limbs extended their runic blades once again, spinning them to the sides of the eliminator omega to create a flashy if somewhat pointless disc of death that it carefully angled to cover it's front as well as it's flank.

Synchronizing it's fire times to it's blade rotations, the Lone Wanderer then revealed the intent of it's arm cannons. Each pushed forward a tesla coil from it's body as it perfectly formed the designs needed to create this beautiful if deadly piece of electrical engineering, as well as a laser to induce a channel of ionized air that the tesla bolts would be able to ride down on with unerring accuracy. "Your kind always venerated the power of electricity, now...let me show you why! Behold the glory of lightning! Revel in the tingling sensation of electrical rapture! It will be a most shocking experience." It said, making an utterly groan worthy pun as the lasers flew out at the speed of light, not terribly harmful in of themselves, and as a matter of fact; invisible, but the yellow and purple lightning that streaked out of them certainly weren't anything to laugh at.

The lightning was of such intensity that it could do what even heavenly thunder and lightning could not; disintegrate concrete on contact, causing the pillars of the capitol building to explode as the tesla bolts touched them, sending vapour and superheated shards of concrete flying in all directions while the lightning actually began to splash out dangerous, but substantially less powerful bolts of power that, while lacking in the direction and purpose of the mother electrical bolts, were dangerously unpredictable and about as dangerous as getting struck as a high amperage, high powered tesla coil.

"Stay positive! These hook ups are absolutely free! I can positively garauntee it! Nyahahahahahahaaaa!" It punned a mile a minute as it's feet once again morphed into clawed limbs meant to dig into the ground for extra purchase.

@allegiance:

She didn't know anything about her life before her birth as a homunculi other then that she once was called Salem. This name only her 'brother' could call her. Wether Tobias and her had any common ground or relation beyond what they were was a matter of speculation. And up until today Hex hadn't really acted in a way that brought her notice just an anonymous figure in daily life. Until the moment chaos was born in this city. When there was war she often was there.

Hex reveled in war, she didn't long for it to be the next world war it didn't need to be a Great War she just wanted to be in the presence of it. The why never mattered to her reasons were plenty and mundane. The who was a waste of time people were just the paint to wars next beautiful canvas. Where was always good as it was the backdrop but that was all it was, the background of a beautiful piece. The same went for the when, dawn dusk mid day dead of night these were just complimentary supplements to the chaos. All that mattered was the what, was it a war? A grand spectacle of human emotion and innovation? To her most creatures on this planet were worthless they'd only done one thing right and that was the fabrications of grand battle.

With the man of mist and shadow here however perhaps it was time the eighteenth angel was also seen. She had just been dancing in a quiet street to the sounds of the chaos when she saw the fog though she chose to find some way to contribute. As quick as her feet would carry her the knight of alchemy ran for the most popular district. It was here that humans were gathered like sheep, being given a chance of safety. In the center stood a concept of hope itself. Allegiance, a patriot, a hero. And not just a life saver or noble knight of a better tomorrow he was a symbol. As inspiring as the American Flag that still flew in the distance.

"You are a remarkable figure, most astounding human I've ever seen." Her voice loud as she could muster over the sounds of battle all around. Vectors coiled around her the soldiers that shot at her seemed to only shoot the air. "Indeed I might even regret this kill." Now with the cover of a shambling crowd her vectors began to snake through the mass. Most had gotten away saved by the red white and blue. For those within fifteen feet of her on any side though they met gruesome end. As unseen hands sliced and ripped through any flesh they could find. Despite sword and shield in hand the deaths never came from a swing from her. And as she reached the center of the field she lunged for the living icon.

"I can't help but wonder if this war would be better with a martyr." Her barely visible serpentine limbs reached around mighty grips seeking to pin shield to the back to deny signature defensive. Able to lift several tons Hex's vectors worked to ensure the kill. Adamantine blade with monomolecular edge sought to pierce the heart of a hero, a heart of a nation. Way Hex saw it this Clarice lady wasn't as inspiring just a voice of the nation not it's heart or soul. Not like Allegiance, his death would be a national tragedy of remembering and that was a good war. Troubles and tragedies were rich the worth wasn't in scale but lasting impact.

@eliminator_omega_returns:

"FIRE"!! Lt. Col. Ayana yelled on the bridge as on top of the submarine a retrofitted Tomahawk missile design specifically to destroy machinery use in EMP blast-based bomb in it they had a unique design that could penetrate anti-EMP shields and armor even. Ayana speaks over the coms and forming the local National Guard and Air Force to take cover in retreat saying, " Lieut. Col. Ayana of STRIKE an experimental tomahawk missile is heading towards Washington DC I'll be sending you as much support as I can in dealing with this machine"!

Even though tomahawk missiles are not nukes they can do a lot of damage, take out entire city block even this one was design to Pacific Lee target electronic technology in general to not kill but to disable the machine so that the two that were fighting it could finish it off! as it screeches towards the Washington DC flying past ally F-22's and F 35's retreating the area it detonates 150 feet above the machine called himself the Eliminator Omega frying all electronics in a 2 mile radius around the detonation shattering glass from all the buildings surrounding it from the detonation of the missile but not damaging any of the surrounding buildings other than the broken windows.

One hour ago

"Are you telling me that the president is in her bunker and its already been penetrated by an unknown enemy, and we have very little information on this assault, other than that mutants have decided to rise up against them and stop this attack from happening"!? Mr. Speaker the house said in the crisis room to Ayana over the speaker. "that's right Mr. Speaker, our main forces is got wiped out by some machine of some type I'm calling you since I can't get in touch with the president permission to use the C.R.I.S.I.S. on it Sir?" the speaker replies saying, " are you sure it still experimental and a might be too powerful to launch in a city were still a vacuum waiting civilians, is there any other way in defeating it?" Ayana replies saying, "there's just no time we need to evacuate the present now before she gets killed I have a team inside the White House right now that is going to get her out of the bunker and out of Washington DC, but right now this machine stands in the way of reinforcing the area with it keep on shooting down my VTOL transports"! a speaker at how supplies saying with a hint of nervousness in his breath, "your ago but only one of them we don't need to destroy the entire damn city"! Lt. Col. Ayana replied saying, "yes sir!"

Kyujutsu

Her decision made Ivana rose. The caverns deep shadows twisted and bulged, warping unnaturally toward her until living darkness swallowed the twenty first century samurai whole. In the blink of an eye they receded to their original dimensions.

Ivana was gone.

She walked the ill routes, obscure and lonely. Dim halls, black thrones and dark towers filled them, looming and gigantic, as if some primeval race of forgotten gods had lived in the between-space. Only the Strigidae ventured here now, and they never tarried. Ivana slipped through the alien passages and stepped through the shadows once more, into the Real.

Washington DC.

The scent of cordite hung upon the air and the sound of gunfire and screams road upon the wind. Fire lit the night, casting a hellish red glow upon the mangled rubble of what buildings yet stood. Blackened timber jutted from shattered houses and her armored boots crunched upon broken glass. A burning husk of an SUV sizzled and popped beside her as she slipped her golden Strigidae goggles over her eyes.

Like chest rattling drum-beats the Brahma Bull's voice shook the street. His enemies twisted and swirled around him, golden flashes of light and the gleam of sword and spear surrounded him.

Ivana drew her bow from its hardpoints at the small of her back. Her thumb compressed a stud upon the grip and the collapsible bow clicked into its full size. An arrow was drawn from her back-mounted quiver, the Strigidae knocking it upon her high-tech bowstring while her goggles zoomed in upon the scene ahead of her.

Of all the forces arrayed against the Bull it was @adhene who concerned her the most. She wielded the elements with an easy grace and coordinated her assault with an ally; teamwork and versatility. Ivana considered those dangerous traits. Too dangerous to live.

She drew. Muscles knotted. Tendons flexed. Three hundred pounds of draw weight was overcome with the same casual ease a wild ape uprooted a tree. Cams rolled over and twin carbon limbs bent. She infused the arrow with tachyons, creating a singularity of negative mass along the bladed edge of its razor sharp broadhead- it would cut through anything short of true adamantium.

Goggles fed her living eye targeting data in the form of Chernoff Faces. Eyes like an eagles selected Adhene's heart. She took one breath and let it half out.

Ivana released. A black arrow split the dull red glow of the sky like a dart from the hand of the devil. It flew, straight and true, toward the right ventricle of her target's heart. Should it find its targets flesh it would inject a lethal neurotoxin into her blood stream, nearly instantly lethal to a human and dangerous even to the mightiest of metahumans.

@salem_hex: @the_undying_tombstone:

It couldn't be.

Tombstone, just like in the comic books.

They were one of the few things that helped him through high school, and he lost them all while on his tours of duty in Vietnam. They were John's favorite, so the shredded copies James did manage to preserve he buried with his younger brother. He only raised a hand to his forehead, giving the unliving legend a salute captured in the light of the rising sun. Today was going to be a good day.

"Sir, it is an honor," James replied, bags under his eyes. "What I really need more than anything is any and all civilian activity moved from here to the surrounding metropolitan areas. I know Brahma is planning something to slaughter these people and I need them out,"

He pointed southbound, indicating a strengthened military presence.

"I have three armored companies holding the bridges over the Anacostia. Meanwhile, there are sweeps through the streets round the clock. We've managed to gather about 1,600 more civilians just as the last group shipped out, according to the last reports,"

He started to sweat. His Georgian humility caused him to shudder under the presence of such a monumental man. His throat became dry, and he apologized under his breath. He began to worry if he was doing the right thing. If he was doing a good job. He had not thought like this since his first battle.

"This truck depot is one of seven I have ferrying refugees out. Constant radio contact has been interrupted once or twice, but they're all still operational. The trains that I sent out earlier with the first hospital group have also come back for another load,"

A sharp turn and he shot a finger eastward, but also came face-to-face with the spirit of justice himself. He smiled on the inside, 'If only you were here John.' A lonesome thought that came to an abrupt end. Knowing Tombstone's intangibility, James nevertheless threw himself in front of those who needed him. Two very lucky soldiers were spared the same fate as those around them, but James seemed visibly disturbed by the surprise attack.

"Everyone get out and find more civilians! Bring them to any way out of the city except here!"

The iconic shield did not even dent at the ferocity of the psionic assault. The two soldiers he saved retreated to accomplish the task set out before them by the All-American. He acknowledged Tombstone once more, quieter, without pausing from looking at the homunculus. He seemed infinitely more confident now, and infinitely stronger.

"Tombstone, this is my fight. Your powers will be more useful getting people out of rubble and debris where they're trapped,"

He did, however, look at the idol of his deceased twin brothers for a fleeting instant.

"I'm counting on you."

---

Invisible tendrils. Deadly ones at that. They lashed out like heavyweight snakes, each one plopping against his shield like a wrecking ball. He swayed to and fro with the horrendous momentum, battered and bruised, but never broken. He kept standing. Despite everything in front and around him, he stood back up. This would be over twenty hours of constant exertion. He couldn't stop now.

Wordlessly, he almost let launch his emblem from his monstrous throwing arm. Except, his opponent seemed to anticipate this to the letter. His hand became pinned like a butterfly to the wall of his back muscle, shield included. Seemingly helpless, he glared down at the assailant moving effortlessly with a knife towards his chest. Despite his shield being temporarily disabled, he was not defenseless. His knee rose like a cannonball, aimed at the wrist joint keeping the knife in the woman's hand. Contact would be incredibly painful, possibly even paralyzing. Allegiance hardly ever used his full, raw strength. Only against Brahma Bull did he actually put his power to its utmost limits. This would be another one of those times.

He had not one second to waste.

Even with one arm tied behind his back, knowing that the tendrils could move without him seeing them, he had one advantage. The one ensorceling his throwing arm had a definite shape and weight. Based on that, he could theorize when and where the others would lash out. Sort of like seeing a bullet, studying the inside of a gun barrel, and guessing where the hot slugs would be landing. Of course, this had the same science behind it as running up a hill, charging at entrenched machineguns, praying to God you'd be alive at the top.

Except the top of the hill was the assassin herself.

And his combat boots, roaring upwards, backed up by his only free arm, dragging him to the peak of all his efforts, would come crashing down with an uncompromising fury. The weight of a nation, funneled in one direction, the only one that mattered right now.

Forward.

@eliminator_omega_returns: @_ophelia_:

Nymphixia's pace slowed at the threat of some tentacle action, something she had actually indulged in once or twice in Hell and generally found to be right up her alley, like a gangbang-in-one, though after seeing what this artificial psychopath was capable of she began to doubt the wisdom of letting it "get her." She'd already seen turn too many people into chunky salsa and she didn't plan to be the next. She continued to climb, staying barely out of reach out of the writhing, thrashing tentacles.

But then something changed her current decision to run like a little girl. Something came along that gave her no choice but to fight, to turn back and attack. The beastly entity, that feydamned mutant, the werefox known as Ophelia. Her friend, partner, recent lover -- and the woman who was now rushing to her aid. Suddenly the robot's words about sending her lovers after it seemed a little bit funny, but she quickly pushed humor from her mind when the werefox tackled the self-repairing, seemingly infinitely versatile robotic murderer, doing her best and quickly having her efforts returned with a massive peal of lightning and puns.

"No!" Brimstone roared out, leaping down from her perch halfway up the building and forming herself into a dive, aiming herself directly at the creature and superheating herself more than she ever had in the past. Her efforts were quickly met with a crackle of that disintegrating lightning, connecting to her presence and lashing out to meet her -- only to have Nymphixia vanish at the last second in a poof of crimson smoke.

Yeah, so she had promised not to use her other powers. But everyone around her was too busy getting killed to notice, and Ophelia already knew what she was capable of. Teleporting would bring assassins but right now, assassins were the least of her concern. Of much greater concern was her current destination, having teleported behind and above the mechanical entity and diving at it like a spear of steel-melting crazy. "Come get some, you robot freak!"

@autocrat@lioness_

Ronin took cover as the Autocrat's automatic rifle bullets tore through the air, causing each of his arrows to blow up. He looked over at his teammate, Lioness, popping his dislocated jaw back into it's rightful place. He had no words for her, do too trusting her own judgement in battle and the shame he felt for his actions. The heat of the explosion felt on the back of his neck and taste of Autocrat's blood ever present on his lips. It was a constant reminder of everything he didn't want to become, the Umbra Soldier. Looking around, Ronin realized the remainder of Autocrat's men were dispersing, no doubt heading towards the man's former destination. Ronin took a knee, wincing from the pain of the broken ribs and soar jaw, but soldiering on. He quickly set arrow after arrow, sending them after each man that tried to escape. No attachments were necessary, a good arrow through the eye would put them down no problem.

Breaking Ronin's concentration, a shock wave like no other tore through the streets. The building the two heroes stood on, began to crumble as easily as a piece of looseleaf paper. Taking a quick glance Ronin saw Autocrat on one knee in a crater, a pummeled limb attached too his shoulder. Was Autocrat really that strong? Or was he smart enough to hit just the right spot? If he was that powerful, he would have knocked Ronin's head off from the haymaker before. Deciding this wasn't the best time to brain storm, Ronin jumped off the rooftops shouldering his bow and sending both feet aimed for the Autocrats head.

A simple stomp to the face? No not quite. The very last second of contact, Ronin activated the jets in his boots, causing flames to shoot out aimed for the man's tough facial features. Sent back a few feet, Ronin back flipped, landing on both feet and one hand. Quickly finding his bearings, he grabbed onto a few arrow cartridges and chucked them at his enemy with deadly speed and accuracy. Two cartridges flew past the behemoth, but not without cause. They were gravity cartridges, a device Ronin was still testing. Each cartridge had the strength of a hundred pounds, pulling on Autocrat's back. They would only work for a few seconds if at all against his enemies incredible strength, but that was all Ronin needed. Next was a incinerary cartridge aimed for the big man's face. The flames wouldn't last long, thanks to the next cartridge, but that was fine considering they were only used as a distraction. Next Ronin threw each cartridge one after another, a sprinker cartridge that would send water shooting onto and around Autocrat's feet and secondly, an electric cartridge that would travel up the water and into the man's body with a little bit of luck.

Ronin pulled out his two katana's, spinning them in his hands in a soothing way. He would best this man withput the rage of the Umbra Soldier, he would do so on his terms. Ozzy Winters calmly sped towards his opponent, the electricity would not effect him thanks to his non-conductive suit. He swung his vibranium steel swords, inward and out, aimed for the man's guts. Then rolled forward and past the destroyed arm, hoping to use his own speed to dodge the madman's grasp. As he rolled he aimed one sword's blade for the man's ankle, then finally he brought both swords up, hoping to tear through the man's back and through his heart, ending this.

@clara_mass

Pulling himself up off the floor surrounded by the presidential guard Cassius could hear the voice of his target calling out as she approached. His left hand prepped on the hidden trigger within his watch strap. Tempted to try and thin the numbers of the armed guards around him he had to calm himself. It had taken weeks of carefull planning and intense physical effort to make here and the last thing he needed to do is create his own Alamo before his mission was done. Standing with his hands up the hanging briefcase attached to his arm sitting upon his chest. Waiting for the guards to clear and allow the president a clear view of him. Nodding slightly upon her apperance but keeping his hands high "Madam president, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Cassius and i'am here to take my brother back"

Before allowing her presidential rebuttual the wheels of Cassius plan began. One finger tinched towards his wrist instantly setting the fuse. A small plastic explosive primer with the case shattering the hinges loudly echoing the detontaion around the room. The case falling free of the knightfall and open to the floor. The explosion paired with a rapid decompression of the knightfall prize canister of power inhibiting gas freshly stolen from the LeBeau Legacy Lucian. Dropping to the ground Cassius pulled two pistols from his holsters in the midst of the gas, agents raining fire on his location keeping him moving in the cloud. His brief surrender having given him a second wind and time to study the rooms lay out. Tying a cloth mask over his face to shelter his eyes from the agressive pacifying gas and to bring his true better known form home in case anybody didnt know whom he was by name.

Firing low Cassius rolled across the floor firing upwards in the directions of the incoming gunfire always moving firing in bursts using the rapidly fading gas clouds for every second of advantage he could. Kneeling with his back to the right hand corner or the room he could hear the cough of his target ahead of him, she would reamin unharmed for now but the louder deeper cough to her immediate left was fair game. Sensory deprivation was a common form of training for peope in his line of work and cassius was happy to play this by ear firing twice at the last guard to the presidents left. His mission now coming to a conclusion he stood up and walking towards the president.

BANG BANG

Cassius reeled back as he felt the impact. He had missed one. This guard was good controlled his breathing remained hidden in the cloud like himself. Blood started to pour from his abdomen one of the bullets having past through his kevlar platting beneath his suit. The knightfall Coldly responding his a full auto burst back in the direction of the apperently remaining guard. His over hand craddling his side. The cloud fully and finally breaking around Cassius now standing face to face mere feet from his intended prey.

@allegiance:

Hex saw the feet coming her mind quick to devise a variety of counters. Instead her other two vectors went for the shield when the feet met her stomach Hex smiled proud of her choice. What hit her was thirty tons worth of force each vector totaling at ten tons meant together they were superior in strength to arm holding the shield. With that thought in mind she had plotted her course of action. Executed just as she began the flight backward from brutal impact.

Her stomach caved in insides grounded to mush like the impact of distasteful road kill. Her ribs could even be seen from the gory collision it didn't stop her though in fact one could hear the recracking bone and reforming flesh even as she flew backwards. And in this moment Hex used her vectors to spiral wildly in the air this was intended for greater result on her foe. The gyrating spin sought to take the shield with her forcing it from the heroes grip immobilizing the use of iconic weapon. Rotation was further used to try and ravage the symbols arm. To twist it and break it into contorted pulp.landing on her feet wounds half recovered knife in hand was alchemically changed into a flash bang.

As the grenade was thrown in attempt to disrupt the heroes senses the alchemist drew her sword and charged forward and shield with it. The blade sought to remove the left leg further attempt to disable America's finest. Her shield with similarly sharp edged moved to sever the seventh vertebra. And lastly the vectors would snake foreword perhaps backed by Allegiance's own shield. They would move to attempt brutalized impalement rupturing the heart of both Allegiance and perhaps in the process the heart of America.

@dwronin: @autocrat:

She'd done all she could for the power grid fending off as many forces as able. Maybe it would be enough maybe not but one girl alone wouldn't account for much against an army. Armor powerless she made way for the leader of the Children of the Damned. Located a few feet above the roof falling just as Victoria was reaching it's surface. Having hunted many a mutant she saw what was coming knew potential assault. For this she jumped upward leaping just as a surprisingly explosive impact landed.

No light show, wasn't from a form of energized attack. Could of been pure strength but from what she'd seen on sniper point previously the might wasn't that cataclysmic. Conclusion some kind of extra or enhanced sense. Slightly troubling to Tori considering much of her already was cybernetic and as such might be exploitable. She didn't have time to let that weigh on her however having to cover herself from vicious shrapnel. A few bruises and minor cuts at first then speed and weight of a brick led to the ripping off of her left ear. Blood streamed down her cheek and she knew equilibrium was partly askew but it mattered not. The job mattered more then another scar.

While falling the left hand was put forward the gas powered grappling hook targeted ravaged arm of the vicious hound. It's pull would even if a miss guide the Lioness towards opponents back. If a successful landing it might go so far as to detach battered ligament. Disarming effort further aided in the fall as electric charge blade sought to impact the shoulder. Her other blade glowing like a vibrant star would attempt to come down in the middle of the mans skull attempting to cleave the head in two.

@brahma_bull: @strigidae_23: @adhene:

Her sword parted flesh regretfully not in a fatal way. Height and skill made fatal move mundane scratch. But effects showed flames began to slightly fade mist of decadence falling away. Much of this assault was tied to a horsemen though odds not in Natasha's favor she had atleast made dent in the opposition. Hopefully it was enough to also spare Adhene. Illusions falling aside abruptly as her their foe lost some of his might.

Conflict grew worse however as Ivana entered the scene. Nat had seen her, talked to her. Ivana was deadlier than any viper and as dedicated as any could be. Bull and Ivana were out of the vampires league Adhene had more versatility the choice was quick to make and just as easy.

Natasha started with a quick step in forcing dropped grenades closer to both Bull and herself and as they land she turns to mist. Volatile explosion never ruptured porcelain flesh. But another blow did. The mist that was Natasha managed to materialize right before the arrows aim was true.

"Shot through the heart and your to blame." The little vamp teasing before a cough of carmine fluid. Her undead status would provide her with more time. Not a lot but enough to give a few more moves and hopefully provide resourceful associate a chance to score successful blow. "I won't be a player much longer got two three moves tops...make my sacrifice count Ash, was Munashe right? Natasha Howletzer." Moment of friendly spirit ending in a rush towards the Bull. At three hundred miles per hour she charged forward switching crystallized katana as the weapon of choice over Night Hunter. She'd wait to last moment when she thought she knew his move. To step to the right duck down an execute the eclipse technique. One hundred slashes in mere seconds designed to reduce opposition to just a series of hailing chunks of gore. A series of blood splashing coughs escaping poisoned teen.

@nymphixia: @eliminator_omega_returns:

The werefox's glowing yellow eyes widened as she felt her fist smash into the metallic monster's head, watching feeling the shockwave of her strike smash the robot into the ground. "D-did I do that?" Ophelia asks herself and the fairy within her head as she realized the power the bestial form held. "The Fey's animal guardians are destined to be incredibly powerful beings, all they have to do is reach they're-" Rhoswen's inaudible speech was interrupted when the metal titan almost instantly recuperated and started to transform- all the while spouting out 'supportive' comments.

The beast leaped away from the eliminator as it rolled towards the capital building and created numerous more additions to it's arsenal; lightning cannons, spinning death blades... "This thing is like a walking swiss army knife, directed by Micheal Bay." The werefox thinks as it keeps a mostly safe distance away while the metallic monster demonstrates it's new toys by firing off bolts of electricity upon the pillars of the capital building; sending molten concrete flying everywhere.

"Alright guardian! We have to come up with a plan to defeat this complex opponent!"Rhoswen's annoyingly high-pitched voice says inside of Lila's skull while she tried to think on her own. Before the two could formulate any kind of plan, however, as the beast smelled the familiar scent of brimstone... and then noticed the red cloud behind the robotic titan. "Nyx!" She yelled from her head, immediately charging forward on all fours. Rhoswen tried to speak up and reason with her, but Ophelia shut her out for obvious reasons.

Several golden bolts of lightning came her way as she charged but they didn't deter her, even when one hit her shoulder and sent boiling blood and flesh into the open air. It hurt, a lot, but it's not like she could scream or anything... so she just kept going. The minute she got close enough to reach, the werebeast tried to reach mostly beneath the spinning blades and grab for the limbs that kept them attached. This of course would lead to both her limbs being torn apart, but if she managed to get hold of the lower limb's she'd try to tear them both off.

@dwronin: @lioness_:

Following his ebullient landing and the eradication of his left arm's flesh from the generated eruption, the Autocrat coolly rose to his full height, his psychological disposition of tangible poise remaining unblemished by his self-injuring assault nor the perceived disadvantage his wounded arm presented. This bout was far from its conclusion. Boasting a brand of superhuman durability like no other, and blessed with highly accelerated cellular regeneration, his arm would find itself gradually restored, just as his piercing, indigo eyes had. Doing battle with his adversaries wouldn't prove particularly difficult, not from a tactical standpoint, particularly Ronin who expended his energy in closing the gap between them, which implied only one thing.

The Hound of Justice need not exert any effort in acquiring physical proximity for his attacks. Countering his opponent's initial attack, the Autocrat transfixed his gaze on an approaching Ronin, metallic pins dropping to the ground as the powerful extremist's right hand heaved a cluster of M67 fragmentation grenades towards his adversary's extended leg, an incendiary eruption of composition B and accelerating super-heated steel fragments targeting Ronin's exposed legs, intent on either eradicating the city defender's legs, disabling his ability to walk, or simply flustering him from terminating his initial attack, regardless, the Autocrat readied himself for his adversary's following attack, should Ronin's legs remain attached to his body. Abruptly, two arrow cartridges blitzed past him prior to invoking the force of gravity, hundreds of pounds of attractive force in an attempt at forcing the Prince of the Ostracized backwards.

This would yield no result. Hundreds of pounds of force against one whose body harnesses the physical power to lift in the excess of sixty tons? Darting forward, his legs' powerful muscles enabling his blistering pace and acceleration to reach frightening superhuman speed, the Autocrat welcomed the secondarily hurled cartridge, its searing conflagration burning the flesh of his facial features and scorching his flesh while disabling his mask's communications technology, rendering him unable to relay tactical instructions to the guerrilla troops headed for the city's power delivery system. It mattered little. While his eyes fell victim to the cartridge's scorching flames, his sonar hearing did not, and alerted him to the approach of two additional cartridges. Employing dexterous footwork as he weaved his body in and out, evading the chucked projectiles, the Autocrat's right hand took hold of what was now the bony, skeletal structure of his left arm, his right thumb pressing against a detected vulnerable structural point discerned by his sonar hearing, enabling him to snap his arm from his torso.

Under his own physical strength, it would have been an impossible task. His skeleton was nearly unbreakable, nearly. With the ability to target the structural points of all physical systems however, unbreakable was a property the Autocrat recognized only in true adamantium. Wielding his left arm not unlike one would a club, the Hound of Justice acknowledged his adversary's speed, but recognized that his own bio-electrically aggrandized neural synapses blessed him with virtually instantaneous reflexes. He was much stronger, and much faster than his opponent. A physical bout was not one that he could realistically lose against his valorous adversary. Vibranium steel swords, interesting weapons. Unfortunately, Ronin's reckless selection of dual-wielding exposed a prominent disadvantage. Dual-wielding was exceptional only when the wielder was faster or stronger than the opponent, Ronin was neither. He additionally stripped himself of any defensive aptitude. One handed blocks against an opponent of superior strength was the formula for developing one's own disarmament.

Countering Ronin's vicious swing, the Autocrat swung his own arm's bony edge to meet that of his opponent's blades. Blocking in the art of swordsmanship was not employed by using one's sword as a barrier against an incoming attack by halting it with the edge regardless of what popular culture and uneducated media portrays, that succeeded only dulling the blade's edge and weakening its structural fortitude, more likely to break the defending sword's blade than successfully block a swing. To block was to swing one's blade with enough force to overcome that of the opponent's swing. And so, the Autocrat would meet Ronin's swing with his own. Stepping in to impart more weight and greater force behind his sideways arcing swing as his wielded left arm sought to ruthlessly collide with Ronin's swing with his own, the Hound of Justice exercised his superior physical strength, seventy tons of force intent on powerfully smacking Ronin's swords from his grip and into the distant horizon, disarming him, and hopefully exposing him to a subsequent overhead strike, the Autocrat bringing his left arm down to blast Ronin atop the cranium with sixty tons of power.

His follow-up however, encountered immediate disruption from his other, diminutive opponent, her grappling hook missing an otherwise nonexistent limb but securing itself on a neighboring piece of infrastructure, allowing her to bring down her own sword in a ruthless overhead strike. Recognizing the strike, the Autocrat thrust his legs upward, driving his head upwards to meet his opponent's strike with his own, an improvised head-butt channeling fifty five tons of force while his sonar hearing enabled his targeting of the blade's structural vulnerable point, his cranium's impact intent on exploiting the sword's discerned structural weak point and shattering its blade upon impact as a deep laceration blemished the flesh atop his head, subtly cracking his hyper-durable skull, torturous pain tersely paralyzing the Autocrat from the traumatic impact and subsequently exposing him to whichever follow-up his adversaries have readied.

"Are you kidding me?" There's not a single thing that can be said or done to avoid the insufferable intrusion of @cassius_knightfall. Instead the less than dressed damsel in distress was left with her arrogant underestimation of the young Knightfall plastered on her face. And without further delay the brother of Quintus made his way through the small quarters, unleashing a smokescreen that'd leave her violet eyes watery and unable to see his ascent from the entry of her bunker to her bewildered yet stationary position.

"Dammit!" Unable to wrap her robe due to thee unforeseen invasion, the teary eyed politician rubbed her eyes to the best of her ability, hoping her vision would clear. However, much to her dismay the armored mutant's device was preventing any sort of practical thinking, for example the use of her powers, and to top it all off the man had made a mockery of her secret service by ending their lives as effortlessly as she had ended his brother's daughters.

"I don't need this right now!" Miss Pierce exclaimed whilst her telekinetic powers went to work. By compressing the gases into telekinetic bubbles the supposedly vindictive witch would push these bubbles outward, pushing them throw the broken bunker from which this rat entered. Soon afterward, upon the gases forced departure Miss Michelle started to feel much better, especially considering the fact that it allowed her to concentrate and begin the healing process. Yet, once that was over.....her settled vision was set upon bare breasts, something she'd have to handle without a moment's hesitation.

"You come here", she wrapped her robe, never looking in his direction. "You antagonize me", she adjusted her crimson colored looks before looking upward and onto the heinous sight of man who's bloodline she so deeply despised. "Your president. Now you ask for your terrorist sibling?" Clarice Michelle couldn't help but unleash an obnoxious laugh, an honest to God laugh at that, a laugh she never knew she had, but set forth onto her intruder as if he weren't there for to commit a surely mundane murder.

"Sweetheart, I needed that. You don't understand how stressful my line of work can be, but you need the truth. You deserve the truth. And the truth is...that your brother is never......ever, and I mean EVER getting out of hands.........alive. Not after what he's done to this country. So, please Mister Cassius. Do your absolute worst. Let's see how much of you is the real deal and how much is daddy Quintus." Miss Pierce clasped her hands together, her appearance not at all concerned due to the fact that @ayana_yashimora would no doubt alert the ground level security of the president's imminent danger and the fact that her unbridled telepathy would go froth and attempt to scramble this man's brain into mush.

"Tell me something, Cassius. How does it feel being the only person who actually respects the name Knightfall? I mean didn't Quintus kill some of your family? At least....that's what I heard." She pouted those honey bee lips, already mentally pronouncing herself victorious over yet another mutant extremist.

@dwronin: @autocrat:

Years Ago.....

"There is no way for me to write who you are. I can't make you hate mutants. Can't forge an untamable lion out of you. But Victoria know this starting today your survival depends on you alone." These were the words of her father the oldest memory Victoria had. They came as he pointed a gun at her chest.

"I understand." Her voice was faint that of a child. Even then however she didn't faulter. She would not disappoint her family lineage. She knew what papa Lio wanted. "I'm to go home after this. Save a Dr Pepper for me."

The gun sounded off bullet ripping into the five year old. At first she screamed in pain. Second she put hand over the wound giving as much pressure as sould. Then she began to crawl on hand and knees. This wound could be her end if she let it, she wouldn't. Her last breath had to be on her feet.

Now....

It was to her like looking in a mirror this man wouldn't give in. Wound wouldn't slow him regardless what it be. His own severed arm was but a weapon to him. It was also a reminder that she was human. When made amputee Tori was done. Admittedly three limbs surpassed one but still the man named Autocrat could recover from what happend where she could not. No time for doubt.

Her blade shattered as it collided with oppositions cranium. Best weapon she had was now in shattered remnants. Instinctively she jabbed downward attempting to use remaining blade attatatched to the handle into the hounds brain. Landing led to a follow up.

She had created a device that could generate kinnetic energy. The Lioness armor had a main weapon of solar charged marble sized explosives. A single round was as destructive as a plasma grenade. Three of these rounds remained. Taking them in hand she simultaneously overcharged her arm.

Her cybernetic arm would be lost. Her fist seeking to find home in the hound's maw. Combined though the attack was almost as destructive as the solar beam used earlier. Options were thinning odds stacking against her. Made no difference her life was always expendable.

@clara_mass

Cassius continued to advance slowly on the bewildered and freshly rerobbed president. Her fear masked by humour. For she would now no doubt sence that momentarily she was on an even footing with the guerilla warrior for at least a few minutes. "These men where trained fighters, i cut threw them like butter to get to you. To see you like this, weak, fearful. You talk of antagonization like it was my idea. You would detain my people, you killed my neices and imprsioned my brother. You antagonized me and you thought it would go unanswered. Cassius the weak Knightfall wouldnt dare i suspect your mind thought, and now you will learn the futility of that action. You will tell me where Quintus is and you will tell me now."

Drawing his knife from his belt Cassius lept at the barely clothed president utalising his momentum and leverage to push her groundwards his knife held high out her reach as the two moved. At the completion of the dive Cassius fast hands slicing rapidly a shallow movement aimed to scar the presidents face, before spinning the blade in his hand and bringing the grip down in a hammer like strike towards her nose. A viscious opening statement of his skill with a balde an opening gambit served to warn her that he was not messin garound and he knew his advanatge was on a ticking clock. Minutes would pass and her powers would return guards would swarm one or the other bringing and end to this. But Cassius was not unpreppared either. His left hand moving from his side and pressing at his distress signal, a design implemented by his brother in his glove. @the_psyentist would hopefully have not lost her tracker. "People in power always forget the little guy." His right hand aiming a thunderous bank hand slap at his shell shocked opponent. "I could kill you in the bat of an eyelid, without your powers you cant just blink and have me gone or try and control my mind. Without your abilties its just me and this knife. And i have made better people than you talk with it."

Grabbing the presidents robe firmly with his left hand and tearing at the fabric, leaving his injured flank unguarded for a brief second. "I will leave you beaten, broken and bare. You will respect my name after today." Moving his bladed arm towards the presdents ribs and sitting the blade centermetres from her skin. "Tell me where he is." His voice screaming, projecting his internal fire for vengence. Tearing the mask from his face and looking her square in the eye. "Tell me now."

At the heart of the fire and destruction. A bright blue light pillared from above into the fray; and a transparent woman hued in shades of blue materialized. Glossed over eyes affixed on the terrorist conflict. Eyes applied to serve as surveillance cameras from distant eyes and minds.

@dwronin@lioness_@autocrat@the_pest: The soulful displays of violence were captured within her virginal eyes. " --San keta no sūji--sokan--Ni ichi o kogeki--sokan--Futari wa ni soroe Children of the Damned--sokan--Ni dansei--Ichi fujin."A white strip scanned the globes of her eyes and she saw the skeletal structure of the three figures. "sokan--Ichi tai saiba--sokan--Mikata." Boldly she stepped mere inches from the tension of the battle, watching like a voyeuristic child.

@nymphixia@eliminator_omega_returns@_ophelia_: There was clarity gathering information of the battle unfolding before her: The robotic mass making it's alignment verbally clear. Her unflinching gaze recorded the weight of the battle realizing the difficulty the two women faced fighting a nanite based robot. She had variables to weaken the terrorist.

@_allstar_@brahma_bull@allegiance@blooddiamond@adhene: A destroyed aircraft burned in her foreground radiating the measured heat of 400 degrees celsius, but the AI observed the battle with unaffected focus. A booming voice overstepped the audible lashes of fire. "Icarus fell because he did not learn to fear the sun. Nothing has changed from the days of your childhood when like Little Red Riding Hood, you feared the Big Bad Wolf. Only this time, it is another diminutive bitch facing a greater monster". Her eyes and ears recorded all the information being displayed before her.

@cassius_knightfall@clara_mass@the_psyentist: Hecate filtered through the oppressive smoke, her blue eyes burning an abrasive light through the grey smog. She materialized into the White House with her aural software translating and recording voices. "I will leave you beaten, broken and bare. You will respect my name after today. Tell me where he is!" Her radiant celeste eyes secured on the emotional intruder. She aggregated information, scanning his exposed face. "...." Nothing outstanding within the cyber cesspool. The President seemed to have a personal relationship with the intruder. She watched the scene unfold like a spectator behind a glass window, her sterile eyes recording every frame.

@cassius_knightfall: @clara_mass:

"DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW OR WILL SHOOT"!! said a special forces STRIKE soldier pointing an M-16 at him 5 feet away as the rest the team comes running in with their M-16s also pointing it at him. When a special forces soldiers contacted over the radio to Ayana saying, "ma'am a caped and mass man has the press and at knife point orders"? not knowing how far this situation would go but knowing enough that this strange clothed man needs the present alive to answer some questions that they overheard coming down the hallway to the bunker.

"So you're related to the Knightfalls, this just got to a whole new level of danger, are located on the order to kill you right now"! the STRIKE soldier said to him as the laser pointer from his M-16 goes over the mass man's head. Lt. Col. Ayana replies to her men over the radio saying, "the president's top priority, take him alive but make sure the present is unharmed"! the special forces soldier grabs a enhanced Taser that would go right through his close out of his belt and shoots it at Cassius hoping to have an effect and hits target, if captured you'd be interrogated by the president herself and find out what's really going on and who this man is!

@cassius_knightfall: @clara_mass:

Hanging like an angel amongst the turmoil within the sky, Alexandra looked down to her waist where she had fixed the small transmitter to her attire. It really cramped her style, but she had an investment in the Knightfall marksman and couldn't let anything threaten severance of their connection. And their connection had been severed by misplaced attention. The distress signal alerted her back to her comrade. "Hm. Looks like the young Knightfall might need a bit of help." Flying above the action of the mortals below, she descended upon the White House. With the right mental projection, she could appear to be anyone, not in the least someone who belonged there. Following Cassius' movements through the guards' memories and the strings of bodies she made her way to where he had cornered the president.

Her curvaceous frame wrapped in scanty white stood before the pair finally. She clicked her tongue at the scene before her. "Threatening the President of the United States with a knife? Surely there are more subtle ways of acquiring your desired information." Alexandra stepped toward Clarice. "I think maybe the Madam President and I should have a little chat. Woman to woman." A sly smile crept across her ruby lips as a thought attempted to project itself into Clarice's mind.

"Hello, Clarice. I am Dr. Alexandra Steele. Looks like you're in a bit of a bind. If you manage to survive a deranged Cassius, you still have to deal with the madness outside. Let me inside that beautiful mind of yours, and I'm sure we could work something far more advantageous for you." No one could ever be sure what angle the mastermind would play in such a fatal game. Her alliances were always unclear, something almost seen in an uncanny glint in her icy blue eyes. She wasn't the hero or the villain. She was the Mistress of the Mind now playing the role of morally ambiguous telepath. But that was only one facet of her complex character, a mystery never to fully be unraveled. "You and I are quite similar, Clarice. We are women who will do anything for power. Doubtless some compensation for a tumultuous past. I know how far I will go. You know how far you will go. How far could we go together?"Her cunning psychic endeavours sought to lull the president into a sense of security with her, always the manipulative seducer. She desired to understand the woman, know the creature she was engaging. There was something peculiar about the woman's mind that drew her, a supernatural darkness.

@autocrat@lioness_

Amazed by Autocrat's continued quick thinking and tactical reactions, even after such a thunderous injury, Ronin was barely able to counteract the grenades that would cost him two more lost appendages. He activated his jets prematurely, spinning his body the best he could out of the blast zone. Still heated metal fragments were sent his way, tearing up the outside of his left thigh and embedding themselves into his cybernetic arm. He dodged most of the explosion, but took just enough of it to cause more injury to his mortal body. Times like this was when Ronin strongly wished he had a healing factor. He landed in place, securing his footing with the help of his good hand. His body screamed in pain, but he ignored it's plea.

Again Ronin underestimated Autocrat's speed, most likely due to his continued lack of sleep and the traumatizing psyche switch he had experienced minutes before. This was a mistake he continued to make through out the battle and would learn from later on, if he survived. The first cartridges had no effect thanks to the man's superhuman strength. His power allowing Autocrat to feverishly charge towards Oz like a bulldozer. The second cartridge hit it's mark, incinerary flames reconfirming the man's lack of site. Because of his acute hearing he easily dodged the other cartridges with fluent leg work.

Thanks to Ronin's mask, it covered most of the shock present from watching the mad man brutally tear his own arm off, too bad it didn't cover the crackling sound from his ears. Thanks to a mixture of muscle memory and muscle reaction his bewilderment did not halt him from continuing his string of attacks. His violent swing was met with that of Autocrat's much stronger one, causing the katana held by his flesh hand to fly away and bounce off the pavement with a couple of loud metal 'clangs'. Luckily his cybernetic grip held onto the left sword, much to his surprise. Ronin sent his own sword up with both hands, hoping to fight the cranium attack best he could because he wouldn't be quick enough to dodge it.

Moments like these were when he was reminded on how lucky he was to have Tori as a friend and teammate. Victoria Windsor had a tendency to jump into the fray of things, with no caring of her own well being. This was something the two heroes shared, but while Ronin's reasoning was usually that of self destruction, Lioness was that of pure heroism. Lioness entry into the close quarter combat caused Autocrat to shift his attention away from Ronin and stop his skull splitting attacking. In doing so the heroine was able to enact her own skull splitting bash, do in part to Autocrat's traumatic idea of headbutting and shattering the sword.

Ronin had no time to gape at this horrific display of 'ingenuity.' Instead Ronin spun in place, finding himself behind the weakened, but still deadly opponent. Activating his jet boots again he flew a few feet into the air, raising the handle of his vibranium steel katana. While Lioness charged and sent a thunderous kinetic energy blast at their opponents face, Ronin came down with all his might, aiming the blade for the crack in Autocrats skull and towards his brain. Whether the attack went through or not, Ronin would try his best to use Autocrat's hulking frame to protect himself from Lioness blast. This man needed to go down, even if Ronin went along with it.

@the_psyentist: @ayana_yashimora: (still not edited the erros in last post dude, just a heads up. No cape, no mask)@clara_mass

"Down on the ground..."

The guerilla warrior turned his head as he reamained straddled atop the his target clearly anything but standing "Just a tip junior if your trying to impose a sence of threat access the situation better. You see how i'am not standing?. Yeah pay attention." Cassius arrogance shortly costing him as bright sparks shot from his belt. A lucky shot ? or extreme precision guiding the pronged projectiles of a taser into the only piece of metal the Knightfall was wearing. The shock lessened from its full force buy not hitting his flesh directly but the result still enough to cause his entire torso to lock up casuing the knightfall to fall forward dropping his blade and slaming down on his target as his body lost control. The gravity of the situation hitting Cassius as he feel still consious but at least momentery locked out of any movement. His face grimacing as his body continued to violently confulse as the current spread throughout his body.

The clock was ticking and the gas would be nearly completly metabolised and unaffective in as little as a couple minutes. But he now found himself immobile and once again outnumbered. Hoping his call to the good Dr steele hadnt gone unheard Cassius tried to speak slurring his words as his facial muscles barely functioned. "Tasers...are for pussies." His muscles twitching violently still, blocking him from a pyhsical responce as yet.

"Threatening the President of the United States with a knife? Surely there are more subtle ways of acquiring your desired information."

A surge of confidence suddenly hitting the prone Knightfall as he ally arrived. Unable to talk as affectively as he would like he instead simple thought of a responce knowing the keen telepathy of the good Dr would pick it up. "She needed to be shown she wasnt untouchable. Its all part of the plan. Also shut the guy with the taser down. I'am kind of immobilsed right now." Remaning calm and motionless Cassius listened as the good dr and president started small talk. The topic of the conversation instantly striking a chord with Cassius either Dr Steele was playing a clever game or potentially setting up a deal to sell him up river. For now he had no choice but to wait and see what would happen. His mind focussing on trying to regain control. A slight bend in one of his fingers.

@ayana_yashimora: @_ophelia_: @nymphixia: @demi_: @_allstar_ "Yes, very impressive, I applaud your efforts! How marvelous your courage must be to oppose one so superior to you to save the lives of these worthless politicians. Bravo! BRAVO!" Eliminator omega cackled as he was struck first by the Vulpine figure, his guard infiltrated and his sword arms liberated from his body in a spray of grey nanite sludge, an unholy shriek coming from the machine, not of pain, but of unbridled ecstasy as it transformed it's tesla arms into clawed fists once more, seeking to bring down the arms for a double hammerfisted strike to send his opponent sprawling into the dirt.

Regardless of whether this powerful blow, sent with every ounce of force it's class seventy five body could muster, connected, it's upper half was sent smashing into the halls and chambers of congress, severed from it's exploding lower half that dispersed into a cloud of nanites from the force of the demon's impact. Many a white wall crumbled before the sailing form of the Eliminator, many an aide or huddling intern were caught by the flying body of the eliminator as several rooms of the capitol building caved in as their supports were knocked down. Finally coming to a rest in the central dome of the structure, Eliminator Omega smashed through the rows of seats and crashlanded right into the seat of the senior senator of Louisiana.

"Such splendid effort. Such wondrous action. I must reward this with an encore!" It chattered as it's nanites got to work absorbing the mass inside the building. Devouring more and more of the material inside, it's chrome tentacles greedily devoured and converted mass into it's own body. Row after row of congressional seating was devoured before the creature finally decided that it's hunger had been satisfied, it's nanites compacting into a tighter and more rigid shape, increasing the density of the eliminator until it's body caused the ground to crack beneath it's clawed feet.

It had tasted blood, and now it sought more. Extending it's long, groping tentacles, the chromatic appendages sought to grab the two women warriors and bring it right into the center of American Senatorial legislature to continue their fight. These long, roping tendrils ending in clawed grippers and flashing yellow bulb like heads, each shrieking and hissing as they sought out their targets, and upon detecting them, they fully intended to grab them and yank them deep inside the building where the Eliminator had a grand show planned for them.

An M-brane blaster was at the ready, a weapon capable of forcing every dimension connected to this primary universe to coexist simultaneously, resulting in grotesque area of effect damage as contradictory laws of physics and objects were all forced to share the same space. An effect somewhat akin to forcing reality to take on the characteristics of every work of abstract work at once. A beautiful gun to be sure, one that the Eliminator loved and treasured. Almost as much as it was loving and treasuring this splendid battle to the finish with two die hard opponents that is.

@eliminator_omega_returns: @_ophelia_:

Nyx breathed in deeply as the creature lashed out, teleporting to a safe distance as the creature seemingly ripped itself apart, dissolving into chrome sludge and beginning to outright devour everything around it, growing more powerful, growing new parts, continuously getting larger and more powerful. It began to quickly and suddenly dawn on her that Brimstone was not the hero needed for this battle. She had underestimated her foe, and she had underestimated this war. A half-cocked hero with a second-rate ability wasn't what she needed to protect Ophelia and make the Children of the Damned succeed. No... the world didn't need Brimstone right now, and neither did she.

The world needed Nymphixia.

Ripping off her faceplate and starting to heat her body once more, she shredded off a few choice points of her costume and began to transform. While she didn't grow larger, or become too much more fearsome, extending her power into her "natural" form did carry some physical ramifications -- the reddening of her skin, darkening of her hair. Her eyes changed, horns sprouted from the sides of her head, and a tail slithered out from behind her. If Nymphixia was what this battle needed, Nymphixia was what it would get.

"You may be strong, and durable too,
But stronger enemies have fell,
Perhaps you can give challenge true,
To Nymphixia... princess of Hell."

The demoness teleported forward, keeping her eyes close on those tentacles, watching closely. If any single tentacle did anything other than move away from her, Nyx would teleport to an angle where it was. Bloom after bloom of crimson smoke heralded her random trajectories as she struggled to get closer and closer, each poof of red putting her at a different angle -- allowing her to reassess the living battlefield that the Eliminator presented. Her skin glowed rosy, now nothing to inhibit the hellfire brimming within her, and if she was able to gain enough ground, get close enough, the demoness would unleash with a column of flame from her mouth large enough to vaporize a horse in one swift belch.

@nymphixia: "Ah yes, release the beast, show me what you truly are. Let me see you in all your splendor little one. Let me savor it before the reckoning descends upon us all like a hurricane upon legos." It raved, speaking of events prophecized for the future. The end of the cosmos as it was known, a battle between autocracy and freedom that would shake the very core of every reality to it's bones. All predestined, all just around the corner. Such marvelous pandemonium, such must occur, for the stars ordained it. As she approached, weaving through it's waves of tentacles, it's optics narrowed as it waited for just the right moment to strike. The machine wanted her to get close, to see what kind of monster that the Eliminator was, what kind of unfathomable creature it served.

"The reckoning comes. The Icon beckons! The devourer of galaxies approaches! The burner of the cosmos marches ever near! The Fallen two await! Rejoice! For Doom corrupts all! An infinite army! A blazing legion! A black hand! Be glad, this is just an opening act to a play that will dazzle the world! Bring your kids!" It laughed as it got off a single shot before roasting in the fire. The M-brane blaster's bolt was indescripable, a mishmash of things that should not, cannot exist in this reality and myriad others. Some utterly beyond what could be imagined, some very, very personal. A ball of infinite possibilities, While not as devastating as the anti-reality of the fractal blaster, the M-brane weapon had more of an area of effect.

A sinister laugh and a sound akin to a dying frog's croaks rustled through the room as the flames engulfed it, and the bolt, if it impacted something, would explode and force the dimensions to collide in a small area, forcing anything caught within to suffer 13 different contradictory laws and potential overlappings of matter all at once. But the Eliminator knew better than to assume that she was dead. A form diseased by the hellfire that burnt much of it's outer body leapt forward, laughing and shuddering as holes in it's frame were being patched up by absorbing matter. Huge sloughs of it's body were falling off, charred and useless, an impressive shot to be sure, but the crazed A.I seemed if anything, only encouraged by this.

If it at any point knew fear, the meddling with it's mind done to it by the Icon had extinguished such thoughts. It had already witnessed the glory of an Antedeluvian, there was nothing left to fear even if this being before it would have terrified it had it encountered it when it was merely a defective artistic A.I, and not a rambling embodiment of mechanical madness that it was now. No longer lanky, but now big and bulky, with rippling mechanical muscles, a thin cloak formed out of nanites as more and more chunks of it's old shell fell off. A mockery of the stereotypical icon of the superhero. It had been injured, Hellfire was not something it easily adapted to at all, it would have to take this into account. It had already lost 90% of it's gained mass to that one attack, and would not allow her to get another such attack off unmolested if it could do anything about it.

If there was a flaw to the machine, it was it's love of the dramatics, it's flair for a good story. It was a tactical genius of unparalleled ability, capable of thinking on a level beyond most. But it played out it's battles like it was the villain in a story. Rather than going for straight out annihilation, the Machine instead threw forth it's mighty arms forward, intent on engaging in a brawler lock with it and it's scantily clad opponent. After all, two beings pushing against each other's arms with their interlocked hands made for such a powerful and evocative image of the struggle for dominance, but what came out of it's vocoders next, if at all comprehensible, would be disturbing on a fundamental level.

"

̷̞̮̹͕̝̱̙̙͚͉͖̬̦̪̹͔͉̒ͩ̿͐ͤ̂̅ͯͦ̒ͣ̏̉́̚͝ͅ

̴̢̧͔̩̰͉̪͇̓̃̄̿͐͊ͣ̒͛ͨ̀́K̨̨̻̙̮̠̻͙̯̣̣̞͎̘̞͈͍̱̜̙̮ͮ͂͆͒ͦ͒͘͘͠l̷̢̤͇̜̗̻͍̼͉͉̰̼̗̭̥͆̈͂͂ͮ̿̅̉̀͞ͅv̶̲̭̭̞̮͕̱̥̂͊̾̈̋̋̿ͣͦ̆̚̕͠ͅ'̋̐̿̊̇͆ͫ̐̍ͦ̋̊͂̏ͦ̍ͩͬ҉̸͞͏̶̜̮̝̟̲͉i̧̮̝̱̥̾͛̈̆̾ͮ̂ͬͮͫ͗͞r̩̣̪̫̠̽̉̈́ͭͯ̒ͯ̊̂̔͂̎͋̍ͭ̂̉͌͟͝ͅs̵̨̏̒ͪͯ̓ͬͭ͆́ͤ͘͏̸̫̖͙̫̤̹̜̠̖̞̮̖̩̖̲̞ȋ̢̡̛͕͈̘̰̹̠͚̪̣̪̖͉̲̰̓͐̆̃̆̉ͫ̎̽̄̄̈̔ͬ̆́ͤ́ ̛̗̜̣̲̜̫̦̈ͮͫͦ̈́ͫ̈́̃͂ͪ̈̈̿ͦ̀̕͝͠ŗ̢̧̟̗̱̟̹̤̦̪̻̦̉̈́̏̄̎̃ͤ̔̇͛̕ą̔̓̾ͪ̐̎̋̌̆͗̿̚҉̸͖͈̟͔͎̙̫͠ͅņ̴͎̖̺̲̝̹̬̱͍͙̺̬̦̦̺̖͈ͨ̾̔ͧ̉ͮͩͭͩ͊̈͋͂͑̂̀͜͞ͅͅţ̹̫͎̜͛͑̇̌͗̀̈́͆̿͐͌́ͯ͐ͨ̽ͧ̚͜a͖͍̹̮̟̝̖͚̜̯̳̫̤̲̺̥͙̓͒̈͗͑̽̋̋̈ͦ̾̓ͦͦ̾͜k̷̛̞̝͉̤̃ͭ̽̅̌̏̈́̏̈́̈ͣ͑̀ȁ̬̼̹̮̣͕ͩ̓͂͗ͬͪ̐͟ͅl̨̪͚͚̯̬̣̪̝̠̝̰͓ͥͩ̏̐ͪ̀͟͟͡ ̶̷̧͖̼̬̥͎̺̣̭̣̗̻̦̞̲̖̺̜͎͑̈́ͯ͒͌͛̌͢c̴̴̴̛̺̪̤̘̙̜͎̯̮͈̺̣͖̮̀͆͒̆͒̀ͣ͐ͣͨ̀͛ͧ͠t̴̢͗͑̆̏̉̑͏̠̖̪̪̫͍h̶͖͖̭̘̤̯̙̹̘̝͔̟͉̣̩̪͔̘ͣ̌͐ͯ̽͆̊̃͑̊́̈͑̂̚͜͟͟͠'̩̫͇͍͔̘̲̮̲͚̰͇̗̲̓̾̅͐͂̌ͭ̓ͬ̉̑͑͑͂̈́̀̅ͨ́́̚͟r̵̪͍̫͉͖̮̬̪͕̞̃̌̿͆̀ͭ̅͆͛͞ͅi̸̝̣̹̼̱̞͓̥̜͖͚̻͎͙ͮ͆ͪ̐ͩ́͢͜ͅt̶̰͉͔̤̼̟̠͉̟̻͓͉̥̙͚̠ͮͧͩ̏͆̽ͨ͐ͯ͌̉̐̚͢͜o̿̔͌̊̆̂̏̆̀̈ͣͭ͠҉͚̱̺͇͇͕̘n̓ͩ̈́̊̔͛͌́͌͒̅ͧ͐ͬ̌ͬͭ̎̚͟͞͏͜҉̬͇̠̫̖̤͈̮͔̫̗̘̰̜̦̹̪̤͎i̺̟͍̺̱̭͕̯ͪ̂̓ͦ̆̊ͪͯ̑͆̀͟͡ ̸͙͎̖̖̞͍̗̝̝̥̠͕̬̯̠̙̥͐̂̍̅͊ͥ͡f̶̶̖͖̰͉̟̊̿̑̊́͞h̷̨͉̣͔͖͓̝͎͕͓͈̰̫͔͈͓͖̰̖ͫ̅ͩ͌̔ͥ͒͊͆̔̂͛̐ͅa̡͖̹̜͉̫̺͓͚̭͔̹͙͓͒́̊ͮ͑͝g͖̮͓͓͕̗͇̘̬̯̼̻͎͚̩̲͔̃̒̾̽͐ͨͭ̌̅̐̃̈͑͊̂ͪͧ͗̀͠͞ͅͅn̈́͂ͥͭ̃̈́̊͊̍͆̚͏͇̞͕̱̦̹͎̝̙͇̬̲̱͢ ̡̛͇̤̫̰̰̤̙͙̪̭̤͇̺̯̮͇͓̬͍̅̈́ͥͭ͂̄̋g̵̷̵̵̢͓̩̯͎̱̠͓̔͑̄ͬ̽́ͥ͂o̵͖̫̲͖̘̞̠͕̭̬̱̭̅̅̋̊̾̑͋ͦ̂ͬ̈́̐̂̕̕͠l̢̡̩͉͉̣̎ͫ̓ͫ́̌͑̒ͫͨ̀ͫ̑ͪ̓̕o̗̙̩̲͉̜͈͉̹̻͖̦̹̥ͦ̂̆͑̃͂̄̈̆͛̄͡͞ͅr͊ͩ̓ͮ̓́̎̓ͨͤ͌ͧ͋̃ͯ̅͠҉͟͏̩̲̱̗̰ą̛̮̖̯̣̠̪̺̮̯̩̙̖̂͗̓ͭͣͧ͐̐́ͩͨ͌̒͑̏̀͟͠ͅş̶̡̱̞̤͉̹͔̯̳̙̗̩̪͓͕̦̜̥͔͓̉̈́͂ͯ.̢̨̛̣̺̖̦͍̮̮̩͒ͭͮͫ̋́́̌̀ ̵̛̣̩͎̬̞̝̮̲̥́̓̅̃̅̓͆ͤ́͂͆͂͆̔͗ͯ̌ͦ́ͅ ̧̖̪͙̗̥̞̞̹͙͇̼̳̞͕̳ͥ̎̍͛̄̉͆̈̒͋̓̀́ ̴͇̗̜͚̝̖̯̼̙͇͓̠͚̈̌ͨ̽ͪ̒́̍ͭ̽̔̈́̍͂̉̒̐̚͘͘͟

̟̰̻̼̉ͥͤ͂̍ͨ̋̐ͮ̂ͬ̌̚͞

̩͎̹̭͇͎̱͍̳͈̩̫̤̙͚͔̊̐̈́̍̓̎̆̄ͯͯ̒ͪ̉ͩ̔ͭ̔̐ͣ͝I̸̛͙̞͕̜̳͍͙̹̠̫̤͈͒̎͑̍̏͜s̶̶̖͓͎̰͚̠̲̦̼̜̪̗͉͈̹͎͊́̎͂̆́i͊̓̓͐̓̅̊̏̑ͬ́҉̧̧͕̺̺̙̫̯̳̣̠͓̥͠ņ̴̶̣̜̘̮̪̙͇̲̫̮͋ͥ͒͆ͯ̉̎̏͢ͅͅ'̴̸̴̵͈͍̲̤̩̜ͨ͗̒̅͒ͧ́̽̈͐̀̍̽͛ͮ̿̚͟m̶̶̷͙͓̤͖̰̣̫̩̥̦̘͊ͪ̂ͨ̃̅̐̃̓̎̽̋̊̓̍ͧ̔͂̌ǔ̧̩͎̗̦̳͈̫͚̙̫̭̤̥͚̦̄ͫͬ̏̐ͫ͐̆̋͂̉͆́͟tͫ̑ͫ͑̊̌̌ͨ̾̓̿̚͏̨̦̪̹̩̻̩͚͇͍̣͔̺̫͖̟̻̹͘h̡͎͙̪͎̋ͥͬͤ̈́̉̀͢͜s̶̛̛̛̯͕̬̪̟̹͎̳̼̮͓͕̑ͣ̐ͯ̏̑̽̎̚͡ͅā̸̳̟̺̖͖͓̤̤͓͕͍̫̟͛ͨ̇ͩ̒̌͌͌͂̋̆̑̄̀̕͝͡ẕ̙̝͚͕̫͓̗̳̇͑̓ͫ̌͐ͬ͊ͯͬ́̕͢͜͜ͅs͊͋̓̓̒̎͏͏̟̺̗̹̯̭̦̳͕͚͔͚̘-̃̍͑̏̔͗͆̇̏̚҉͏̛̮͎̹͇͕͔̠͈̯̞̗̫̺̺̮ͅv̢̺̲͕͇͍̹̠̱̐ͪ̓͛́͆̒͌̈́̾͆̀͡i̸̧͔̞̹̮͓͚͈̼̫̮̔̈͗̅͋̌̈̑́̕͝ͅk̈́͒͒̈͋̽̓̾̓̓̃̆͌͐͆̋͘͏͏̜̗͖͖̯̻̰͖̥͢ư̴̄̊̄ͮ̕͡͏͔͙̮̣r̟̝͚̖̦̭͑̅̊̄ͮ̚͝͡l̸̸̿ͨ̎͐̈́̇̀ͬ͋ͬ̉ͩ̿̐̀҉̻̳̯͚̯̥͇̟̮͙ų̡̧̡̱͇͇͂ͮ̃̂ͯ͆͑̃̏̓͆ͅ.̛̥̳̯̜̠̭̯̬̫̬̣͇͖̘̱̲͈͔̈́ͮͯ̓͟͢͢ ̶̢͙̜̜̘̝̯͉͍͉̞͙̀ͣ͌́̀̚͜͡ ́ͤͣͯͫ̂́ͦ̈͏̨̧̥͉̞̰͖̠͖̪̮̟̳̙͖͜͠ ̸̴̻̩̠̬̬̤̝̙̖̬̘͙̘̜̣̭͇͉͊͂ͫ̈́ͨͤ̓̂͒͟ͅS̶̪͔͖̤̦̾ͮ͛ͬ͗ͪͭͨ̓̎̿ͬ̉̄̎͂ͮ̚͜î̸̴̗̭̼̮͖͇̙̼̣̾ͨ͋ͣͦ̽͊̓̿m̴̼̗̬̯̱̫̘̦̤̹͎̯͈̑͊͒͌̎̾ͦ̉͘̕ͅa̪̹̠̦̹̯̲͎̫̖̭̟̣ͨ͊̔̓̋ͥ̃͐̑̏̔͐ͧ̉̂̀̈ͥ̀͘͜ṋ̸̢͓͈̞̦͇̦͕̮̙̬͚̩̺̊ͦ̎̾̂ͨ̓̌̾̐̾ͯ͟͝r̛̛̙̜͚̪̺̮͈͓̜͈͔̼̤͇͍̒̏͒̔̂ͧͪ͝ͅͅa̷̘̼̩̫͈̲̩̯͍͙̫̯͉̦̖̪ͦ̄̔̾̂͐ͦ̌͂̊̈́͗̆ͪ̒͊̚͟͞ͅͅtͪ͗́ͯ̓̉͋ͭ̀͘҉̵̢̖̗̜̙̜̜͍̟͇̜͓̜̭̳̳̮a̶̢̧̗͍͇̻̎ͮͫ̌͑̽͒͛͗ͪ̈́̍̎͐̀,̢͚̦̗̘̰̝̫̣̥͚̦͂̓ͭ̓́͆ͥ̄͑ͥ̈͟ͅ ̡̫̟̤̠͓̞̼͙̰̳͉͗̉͊͂ͨ̃͊̓̓ͫ́͒̔̀̀i̷̺͖͚̭͉͙͙̪̣̼̮͍̥̓͒ͧͬ̿̚ͅͅs̩̘̘̯̼̬͓̳̫̃̽ͪͮ͌ͧ́͢͜͡v̵̛͈̦̥̬͙̠̞ͮͩ͑̈̄̒̓͒́̈́̀ͥͯͤ̎̌̈͢͡ͅį̷͎̮̫ͧ́̀ͪͬ́̂̂̂ͣ͌ͪ͒́́l̵͕̦̝̼͓̣͕͈͓ͭ̀̈ͯ̃̐ͨ̽̅́̀ ̴̷͍̘͖̜͍̭̩͎̖̻͙̺̗͔̆͗̈͆̏͋́ͣ́͜͡ǩ̶͍̪͕̠̩̘̳͙̉͆̋ͨ̓̌͡o̵̷͈̫̹̪̯̲̯̭̺̦͔̼͔̭͈̮͉̳ͥͥ̋͋̃̓̽̒̌́l̶̡͍̰͙̻͎̝͋̃ͬ͑̈́̎ͭͬ͋̌̒ͬͨͧ͡s̛͓̠͍͇̬͕̦͇̟̰̰̹̮̬̘̋̍̔͗ͭ̉̆͐͋͢a̡̯͚͇̥͙͎̤͕̮̩̥͔͍̼̜͕̝̞͍͒́͌̎ͦ̏ͮͥ͗͐ͩ́̐ͪͮ̾ͦ̌v̶̧̟̮̪͉ͮ̓̾̑͑̿ͭͫ̏͒ͬͮ̚͢͞ͅc̷̻̪̙̱ͬ̇͒̎̈́̑́͢͝͞t̤̖̱̘̣͈̫̦͍̮ͯ͆ͥ̈́ͥ͊ͥͦ̏̓ͣ̃̐͂ͩ̀͟h̡̟̘̣̥ͨ̿̍ͤ̅̿̊̀̓̑ͣ̔̋͌̽̉̚͘y̡̙͇̼͕̲͖̼̗͉̬̎͛̉͌̅̀͊ͧ͛̇̄͑̈́́͞ú̧̾͗̂̐ͬͪ̎ͩͮ̆̋̒҉͖͔̺̟̥͈͍̝͕̹̭̪͈̝̹̙̕uͦ̈̒ͯ̉̆̉̍̃ͪ͆͠͏̞̜̘̟͍͖̣͙̗̠̟̲̪̠̺̟ḡ̤̮̯̥̥̯̜̾ͪ̈͒ͯͣ̉̆ͤͤͮͧ͘͝a̍ͭͤ̓̄ͬͮ͂͆͜҉̛͔̯̼̬̹̱̯̘́͝ͅͅş̷̱̠̖̜̥̗̹̥͔̩̱̺͚̱̤̱͍̯̐ͣ̀ͣ̌͛́̇͋̽̎̽͊ͥ̓̐́̚ͅȑ̟̬̣̺͉̘͙̺̞͔̘̻͖̗̠̓͌̽̅̇̎ͧ̀̒͜͠ą̵̺̙͓̥̆ͧ̍̑̇͑͗ͫ͑̓́̈ͭ̈́̏̚͝͝.̷̨̛͓̗̯̗̱̼̠͈̠̖̺ͧ̔̒̍̅̽ͬͧͪ̚̕͠ ̵̣̭̞͉̼̻̗̦͗͗͌ͩ͂ͥͩ̊ͦͨ̅̃ͪ͘͟ ̵̡̐ͧͨ̄̈ͭ͑̈͂̀ͪ̆̔͒̅̈́͞͏̯̣͚̣͚̖͙̘̝̼̩͖̠̰͡ ̸͋̌͌͐͑͌̓̿̉̽̈́ͯͫͫ͑̊͑̄̽͞҉͍̭̞̹̫̗̜͕͈̟̩̩̟̱͢

ͤ̐ͥͭ̄ͪ̑̂͏͓̟̤̻̼͜

̶͆ͤ̄̓̉͌ͨͨ̽͒̈ͦ͑̑ͦͧ́ͮͩ͞͡҉̠̪͍̹̝I̷̦̰̼̞̥̫̤̘̒ͦ͂ͮ̒ͨ͞s̸̷̛͎̻̪̥̙͖̥̣͇͉̙ͮͨ́͘͜m̛̺̭̮̬̯̰͖̰̼̦̱̞̙͙̜̹̻͍͛̂ͧ̐̈́ͥ͟ͅä̤̮̤͉̤͚̣̖͉́̾ͦͭ̐̈́̃ͤ̈́͛͛̔͊̒̉͢͡͡k̛̤̳̝̮̤̱͎͍̰̩̹̫͕̥̞̘ͯ̽̈́ͣ̈́ͣ̿̈́ͣ̍ͪ̌ͪ̐̕͘͝ͅs̸͍̩̲̟̫̙͙̟͕̫̫̦̘̥̝ͧ͒̒ͭ̇ͥ͑̀ ̫̙̳̆ͯ̿́̔̌ͦ̓͌̃̒̓̊͒̌̕͞͞į̴̩̠̥̥̺͖̤͖͖͙̤̖̫̑̉̃͘͞c͇̞̠̖̩̼͕̥͉̲̝̘̩̟̟̪̤̎ͥ̓̈̅ͨ̏ͨ̊͌̄̉̃̑͋͛̉ͦ͢ͅtͭ͗ͧͧ̽̋ͯ̽̊͆ͤͯ̀́̕͜҉̝̜̻̞̻̲͢h̴̶̩̜̺̼͇͔̙̳͙̹̾̂̏ͨ͛͢͡ͅy̛̫͕̲͓̙̺̯̖̠̦̖͐̅̐͋̐̓ͨͧ̋̑̓̈̓́̈́͒ͩ̚͜͞ͅͅͅu̶̵̧̢̜͖̦͈͓̯̖̲̜̭̱͈͈̲͇̥͛ͥ̿̊ų̛̫̹͇͖̯̀̓ͫ̒́͟͡g̨͖͙͚̙̤ͬ̏͌̑ͯ̇̊͜͟͞͡ā̶̢̛̜̜̪͕̠͎̺̮̰̭̲͍̥̪͑ͩͫ̒̓͋̍͆̎͛̀ͅl̇ͫͦ͛̉̃͛ͦͨ̓ͪ̄ͭͫ͢͜͞҉̲̪̝̠̦̜̜̱̮̙̖̼̭͙͍̞͉rͬ͂ͭͮ̌͆̓͊̑̌ͩͫͣ͗͐͏̛̝͓̮̲͈͙̯̬̬̣̮̖͚̖̫̮͘͢͝ͅͅa̛͔͉̬̦͉̜̲͔͕͕̗̮̾ͯͦͣ͑̉͆̇̊̉͐͗ͯ̎̓̚̕͜͡?ͪ̏͊̾͊͐̅̋̓ͩͭ̔̋ͮ̈́ͪ̈́̆̀̚͠͏̨̪̺̮̞̮͎̪̗̳ ̥̬̱̜̝̠͓̻͌ͪ̒ͧͫ̄̏͝ ̧͚̮͚͔͍͔͎̩̲̝͓͎̍͌̈́̐ͩ̏̅͂̓ͦͪ̈́́͜͞ ̜̜̞̞̗͍̹̞̬̖̤̯̯̯̙ͧ̾͗̓̋̍̓̄̈́̇͢͝ͅͅI̙͚̼̝̣̼̙͙̼̰̮̻̱̟̤ͥ͆͗́ͥ͢͡͝ͅͅs̪̦̮͈̜̰͍̗̿̌̔̉̃͋̀͛ͭͤ̾̎̚͜u̍͗ͯ͊ͧ̈́ͫ̂̚҉҉̨̲̣̯̝̞͚͍͇̼̖̲̭̹͎͇͎̪̣̞͝m̦͕̠̤̟̬̟̩̮̥͌̊̉̓ͮ͒͆̿ͤ̄̃̓͘͠ͅąͣͭͦ͐̓͋̀̿͂̀̈̽̑͗҉̛҉͇̖̩͕̲͖̖̩͔͙̮̲͎̫͓̦̥͓ņ̶̇͋̀̄ͣͬ̀ͫ̈̽ͪ҉͈̰̜̠̠̠̟̣̠c̢͕͙̠͉͕̟̳̗̖̰͚̦̼̜̥͑͒̅͆̃̐̽ͨ̀͟ă̊̋̓̆ͦͣ͐̋̓҉̨͔͈̙͉͖̪̘̝̙̣͉̦ͅr̵̨ͮͭͧ̎́͞͏̰̦̦̖͙̗̭͙̠͍̝͓ͅa͛ͪͩͬ̍̆͂̐̀͏̷̛͟͏̼̦͈̼̰̟̯ͅ ̯̞̭̱̻̟ͪ̎̔̅̓ͩ̆̍ͭ̋ͧ̈̄ͤ́͡Z̡̛̤͇̥̻̘͍̝̟͍͙̰͍̟͓͋͋͛͢͝ͅa̧͉̮̩͍̗̮̩̝̻̦̺̞̺̥̦̙̪̹͚ͩ̉̈́̌̎ͫ͋̾̅̉̄̄ͫ͋̋̒͆͝͠͞l̨̧̛̫̦͇̺̘̜̼͂̂ͦ͂̉̓̿̂ͤ̾͆̋̿ͣ̓͊ͥ̚͢͠ͅd̸̬̫͙̣̟͕̟͚̗͚͂̽̀̌͋̆̆͊ͧ͗̌ͣ͌̾̂̃ͪ͞ṟ̢̠̠̺̜͉͉̦̘̲̞͚̩̭͚̬ͪ́ͬͤ̽ͩ̏͗ͦͥ̊̂͑̎͜ͅî̽ͤͦͨ̇̒ͣ͐̇ͣ̆̉ͮ̚҉̸̷̛̛̙̼̤͍̳̣͈͓̥̻̯̯͉a̒ͥ͑ͪ̄̐͏̛̛͔̙̜͇̻̘̕u̵̒̿ͬ̐͒͋͌̑ͭ͐̔̑ͨ̚̚҉̦͕̫͉ů͗̾̉҉̴̷̡̨̹̙͓̺͉͇͎͈͇̞ ̛̦̻̩̝͌͑ͮ͋͑̆ͥ̓̓̊̑͗ͨ̐̀͞nͬͤ̄ͣ̉ͩ̌̄͏̶͢͏̤̱̙̟i͑̉ͮͣ͋ͩ̂ͤ͂͂́͠͏̴̛̹͍͈̹̝̖̝ ̜̫̬͇͉͕̳͖̪͈͉͉͉̙͎̯ͣ̊̄͗̒ͨ͂̉̐̀͊̑͆͗̐̚͞͠ͅM̷̹͓͇̮̱̗͚̮̯̣̜̘̯̙͙͓̺̓̇ͥ̋ͮ͑̏͆͂ͮͣ̍̌ͥ̋̈́ͨ͛ͣ͝ȩ̴̵̙̪̣̻͚̳̣̥͇̤̯̯̲̺͓ͬ̓ͧ͛̉ͤh͆̊̍̽͛̂͌̒̓ͨͮ̐̂ͯ҉̶̢̪̭̬̭̜̣̜͘͡r̸̽͑ͤͥ͒ͦͪ̐͋͆ͧͫͦ̉̍̈ͭ̏ͧ͏̪͉̞̗u̿̿̾ͤ̈́ͭ̇ͬ̒͌̾ͩͨ͏̫͚͔̻͖͕d̨̖̲̫͓̥͖̘̗̹̦̟̝̯ͬ̂ͦ̑͑̇̑ͤ̚̚͡â̶̦̙͓̤̮̬̙͕̗̳̳ͬ̒͂̓ͬ͋̀̈͘͡͞ͅģ̱̙̤͎̦̗͚͎̝̮̙̟̣̱̗̱͇̃ͧ̽̒͋̉̈́̂̾̅̊͆͐̌̃̂͟͠͝ŏ̵̭͕̣̞͉̤̱͈̠̪̣̳͎̻̦̞͌̓̔ͥ̒͠t̵̰̦̟̳͔̗̭͙̲̫̟̯̭͓̮̿̾ͫ͌̒ͫ́ͬh̓ͪ͗̍ͫͯ̍҉̵̷̡̪̙̟̦̮̦̹͎͖̤̝̰͕͇̮͓͍̱͡?̅ͭ̀̏ͫ̀̑҉̡͖̭̣͚̹̫̰̤̩̳̭̱̯̘ ̇͊̓ͦͫ͗҉̛̬̼̗̠̜̙̺͖̤̘̲̟͇͓̖̗̼́͘ ̢̩̪͇̰̼̹̦̝̱͈̯̩̝͈̼ͮͦ͗͊ͩͣ́͡ͅ"

Unintelligable gargling to any who did not speak the mad tongue of the Iconoclasms, but a tongue sufficiently mad enough to briefly distort the machine's frame to reveal something barely graspable, a true form of writhing pseudopods of malformed space, pits of warped reality fabric and boils of corrupted reality that swirled with impossible colours. Bits of hyper-coding swirling around this maelstrom of malformed being, going in and out of corrupted existence and forming wounds and leisons that healed up the moment they ceased cutting into diseased thoughtflesh. Oh so vaguely resembling the form it was occupying, but ever so revealing of what malignant intelligence made these machines run as it hoped to push forward.

@_ophelia_: @eliminator_omega_returns:

What she ended up being hit with was not something she was in any way prepared for. Her form distorted at first as the blast hit her, her spray of hellfire seeming to invert and envelop her, before her colors went negative. A demonic shriek ripped through the air, bouncing off of interdimensional acoustics before booming out through the air, a chilling echo heralding the sight of Nymphixia seeming to... collapse. As if shards of reality itself aligned themselves in a destructive matrix before snapping shut, consuming the demon entrapped with them.

The last thing that could be seen before reality engulfed the demoness was a puff of scarlet vapor, sifting out through the cracks as Nymphixia disappeared, ripped from the world as the laws of existence defied her -- not knowing that, even now locked in some sinister world that not even Nyx herself understood, the demoness would fight back. Defy those laws of existence right back. As that nimbus of smoke and hellfire burbled out from Nyx's cosmic prison it began to blast out from the spot she had vanished in, spraying in every direction in jets of rose-colored inferno, so hot they could melt a star and so vile, so profane that every entity associated with the divine could smell it from miles away.

Cosmic met mystical, mixing together and making a frothy goulash. And everyone who tasted that goulash got sick.

A sweeping gush of hydraulic pressure releasing as a promotional tour bus rolled to a stop, signified the arrival of the Rated R Superstar. The characteristic swagger that had defined his NFL career carried every inch of his six foot five inch frame down the steps, as frame-less copper hued Ermenegildo's deflected the sun's smog dampened rays. Just outside the projected danger zone in the nations capital amidst the radical mutant cleric, Brahma Bull's, relentless siege, the Rated R Superstar arrived in order to capitalize on the wide spread media presence. Within moments the athletic celebrities entourage had constructed a make-shift media tent, complete with never before seen merchandize sponsored by the most infamous sporting conglomeration in the World, Nike. In-spite of the chaotic danger well within visual range, the publicity stunt garnered instant and undeniable attention. Alluring and attracting citizens who only moments prior had had no other thought outside of fleeing."Oh damn! That's Garrison Grail!"shouted a young man sporting a backwards Redskin's hat. Without missing a beat Garrison took a sit under the protective shade of his tent and began charming his fans. Signing posters, t-shirts, and memorabilia while his crew filmed him from behind for his weekly podcast.

"See, I dont get this sacrificial martyr vibe. Yeah it sounds cool and all. Fighting for the greater good, for country, for the people. But where they at when you get yo back broke fighting a genetic civil war? They gonna pay yo hospital billz? You get yo brainz scrambled, they gonna look out for yo fam? Hell nah they aint. Aint no insurance in the mask. Aint no guarantee contracts in the mask."Pausing to flash a three finger salute as a fan hugged him around the neck, posing for an Instagram pic. "Now I aint saying dont fight the good fight. I'm saying get paid to do it. Take that mask off and go pro, like me. The first Professional Superhero. I could be over there" pointing towards the rising smoke off in the horizon."Throwing down alongside the other chumps in some self-serving glorification of what a hero is suppose to be. And then what? Say I get all fckd up and cant walk....that it? Game over? Just curl up in some shit hole and die cause the superhero suckah factory keeps spitting out more jobbers erday? I'm tellin ya, ya'll fckn up da game."

Moving away from the signing table, the self-proclaimed 'First Pro-Superhero' began flexing and posing for pics. Meanwhile his Nike branded T-shirts Life of a Hero(front) Birth of a Legend(back) were selling off the table at a staggering $88 dollars a pop while the capital burned and lives were being lost. "Its the age of a new hero, a true hero, a capitalist hero. Get yo'self a sponsor dhen an endorsement deal. Nicca's getting paid millions to catch a football, all the while real heroes in their momz basement sewing up their super-tights cause they cant afford but one fit. You wanna act like a hero? Get paid like one. Holla at yo boy. Till next time, I'm out!"

@clara_mass@brahma_bull@edwardwindsor@the_mvps@the_superior_sapien@strigidae_23@lena_dante@the_psyentist

All available seats were filled and bodies crowded the White House Press Room. Media correspondents from within and without the United States of America were invited to the press conference. Recovering from the aftermath of the Brahma Bull assault, the President was flooded with questions of what next? The people were utterly tired of the patriotic degradation. Brahma's attack showcased another weakness within the United States method of defense and lack there of. Incensed behind closed doors President Pierce decided to seize absolute control and responsibility of her country.

Jonathan Hesse speared through the field of communications, graduating Columbia University and cementing a job on the New York Times main staff as an op-ed writer. He wrote agitprop articles analyzing the social & economic conscious of America in comparison to the European & Eastern countries, through the lens of a capitalist perspective. Common themes in his op-ed articles were the downfall of America, the silent & golden minority and mutant-human relations. His insight on the mutant-human subject angered extreme believers on both sides of the field. It made him a hot writer in the journalism realm and spawned him a book and ascent to Op-Editor of the New York Times.

Up until President Pierce's election, Mister Hesse had lived kosher off the New York Times Bestselling revenue from his book: 'The Genetic Republica'. It explored the idea of a synthetic relationship between mutant and humans living within a meritocracy. He referenced current events and magnified key figures in the genetic chasm. In the Prologue the Humans and Mutant tension reached it's final boiling point and pushed America into a destructive civil war over federal policy pertaining to mutant ability and at the end of the chapter a union is made, both parties set on rebuilding what they destroyed. A contemporary and ephemeral Utopia, raising the society above age-old issues and onto a new progressive consciousness.

As appointed Secretary of Press, Jonathan Hesse had an assured air around his person. With the news he would share with the public and his history, one would think this was apart of the United States plan all along. Conspiracy theorist would connect his Genetic Republica book to some rich corporate or family like the Rothschild or Astor family, but no, this was the necessary step taken. If Hesse had not explored and defined it another writer would. Hesse was far from fatalistic.

The audience fell silent, but the cameras sustained their flash, capturing the visual magic of the moment. "I on behalf of the Pierce Administration and Congress have come to confirm--in response to the attack on the White House establishment--that the United States has signed a treaty with the United Nations. As of October 1, 2014. The United Nations Mercenary Convention will be ratified within the United States federal policy."