The Goblet of Fire - RPG

H.I.V.E. Headquarters - Hawkins Facility

In the next four hours to come, a grandiloquent martial arts tournament between the globe's greatest hominids, the Homo Sapien and the Homo Superior, will be held. The event was like no other in man's documented history. Supposedly hosted with the purpose of exploiting entertainment and amicable competition as tools to lessen the present racial tension heralding potential war between humanity and mutant-kind, the ostentatiously christened 'Goblet of Fire Tournament' served a different purpose, one that is fundamental, nay, intrinsic to the progression of it's hosts objectives. Indoctrination of the globe's most potent combatants by capitalizing on their weakened, post-battle states?

Perhaps. There was however, an even deeper purpose. Quintus Knightfall and Wesley Odepius were invited participants, and extremists of two opposing ideologies. Both accountable for fanning the flames of war between their respective races, they would have to be... controlled in order for the ideal world to prosper. The Third Society's intentions, the mutual goal of both Zedora and Aphasic was not the simple indoctrination of mankind. It was, as they would put it, offered salvation. As constituents of the Third Society, humans and mutants alike would no longer be subject to entropy and decay, they would know no subservience to natural selection and evolution, nor would their genes suffer from nature's miscalculation, the organic propensity for diseases and infection would be a thing of the past. They would no longer be apes, animals.

They would exist as beings in the purest state possible. The quantum information that constitutes the human consciousness would be theirs to shift from the body to space-time geometry. Ascended from flesh, from physical vessels, they would exist as quantum souls. "Do you remember when you were once like them? Before... salvation?". The unsettling yet drawing magnetism of his voice's unnatural calmness reverberated all about them, his mesmeric, perpetually luminous azure eyes shifting towards the herculean, Dolce & Gabbana adorned frame of his most invaluable subordinate, Savant, formerly known as Andres Knightfall prior to being subjected to forced indoctrination. Savant responded only with a mild nod.

Aphasic was somehow formal and stately yet contradictorily nonchalant and casual in his seat. Urbanely folding one leg over the other, he calmly brings his Cuban cigar, the Montecristo No. 2 to his lips, coolly sucking in prior to blowing a thick cloud of aromatically invading smoke. "You should be pleased, 'Andres'. Your brother is certain to embrace salvation, just as your father has. Your free will is no more yes, but... salvation, comes with a cost".

The Tournament, Siberia

The subarctic climate of Siberia served as an environmental obstacle for the tournament's participants. The frigid air, it's gelid touch along with the pelting snow certain to descend from the grey sky above, Siberia was a rugged region of freezing cold. Hosted outdoors, as if with the intention of deliberately assessing their fighters' mental fortitude and physical toughness, or perhaps subtly render them sluggish and in a way, incapable of appropriate resistance should the hosts pounce, the tournament enjoyed the architectural splendor of a grandiloquent infrastructural complex.

A variety of news channels and sports networks had made their ingress with the intention of covering the highly anticipated bouts between man and mutant, all in the spirit of affable competition of course. The gathered crowd of thousands encompassing the outdoor arena was fervent, their cries for the tournament's commencement would soon be answered. And as the tournament's hosts, Aphasic and Zedora would offer words of encouragement to the readied combatants. Though today, they were not the Third Society's manipulative architects, not to the public eye. With the illusionary assistance of the Legendary Mask of Cortez's unparalleled abilities, the intellectual duo's appearance had been drastically altered.

Blessed with an athletic physique, raven hair and dark, malachite eyes in his visual facade, Aphasic cut the image of a man in his mid-thirties. Festooned by the sartorial panache of an onyx, Ermenegildo Zegna suit, he stood before the podium in the arena's center, Zedora faithfully at his right, ready to contribute to his address. His features were proud, an aura of electrifying charisma radiated all about him, aggrandized by the engrossing charm of his personable smile. With the cultivated aura of a winsome gentleman, he began, the resolute voice of a stallion hushing the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, my associate and I would like to welcome all of you to the first ever Goblet of Fire tournament". Adopting the identity of a Mr. Juvenal Capello, he continued.

"With the hope of maintaining peace and improving relations between humans and mutants in an age of conflict, we've conceptualized a tournament where human and mutant fighters alike meet to do battle in a fight to the 'death'", he paused. "But there is no death. With the technology of this day and age, we hold in our palms the means to revive any fighter whose life is lost in the tournament. Because the point of the Goblet of Fire is not bloodshed, or even victory for a stellar competitor. It's purpose is to maintain peace, a purpose to be realized in the spirit of sportsmanship". Casting Zedora a succinct glance, he concludes, "I believe my associate would now like to offer a few words of her own".

Sheen Facility (Siberia facility)

The Matriarch Zedora stood to full form watching the handling of Catalina Liafador, the black Elie Saab dress highlighted each and every one of her curves. She had bigger things to tend to, but making sure she secured Cat was a priority. Throughout the entire ordeal she managed to keep the same unsettling leer that was growing into a distinguishing trademark. Flanked to the left and right, by both an indoctrinated Ziccarra, and a Jayden corpse; it pretty much sealed the fate on any type of Catalina escape plan.

“Now…we can start our search for Catriona…” She whispered, not having any knowledge on the woman; but Aphasic placed her on the priority list.

With Ziccarra flying involuntarily, under the banner of the Third Society; Zedora had no use for the act, instead returning to her blonde look for a sense of individuality.

“Just one more piece to the set” She said, her enthralling voice echoing through the empty shallow corridor. The untimely demise of Isadora hurt her quest to capture the Ziccarra’s entire family, but with Catalina and Ziccarra captured, Quintus already in the tourney; it was only a matter of time before the crown jewel revealed himself.

“My ape collection is coming along rather nicely” She said with a hint of cynicism. “Come, the games will begin shortly.” Her walk was deliberately sexy; it was how she was designed; walking tall with her types pointed forward and her hips swaying in perfect cadence; she was ready to witness the gore that would come with it.

Riding the elevator up to tournament level, she stepped out in her Christian Louboutin red booties making a streamline toward her seat in the massive arena. Greeting Aphasic with a posh kiss to the right cheek, she took her seat for the opening of the games. Aphasic rose to address the crowd, as much as she wanted to keep their interactions strictly business, she couldn’t hide the fact; especially now that she adorned him presence, and loyalty to the third society.

His opening speech delivered a powerful message that appealed to both her Organic and Synthetic properties. After being prompted by Aphasic, she rose to her feet with her hands cupped quaintly in front of her. Moving to the podium she flashed an empty smile to the hordes of people in attendance. A lot of them were indoctrinated, Jayden’s doing; he wanted to make sure the event was well fortified.

“To shine like the sun, first you must burn like it. Humans…Mutants, as we embark on the very First Goblet of Fire; I want you to remember…it is you…who has the power to better our society. Good luck to our competitors...and let the games begin.” Stepping down from the podium, she gave the signal to release the combatants. It was time to see which ape was truly “King of the Jungle”

@wesley_odepius

Siberia's climate, considered harsh by both natural and unnatural inhabitants, was akin to a warm bed for the Keijijo Kaze, whom had weathered Reisho's metaphysical lethality on various occasions prior to his ascension beyond the need for tutelage. Nonetheless the challenge of the weather was worthy of Milo's curiosity. Traversing the Ural mountain range, he situated himself atop the peak of the mightiest mountain, adopting a meditative stance. Preparing himself for ensuing battle against what may be the world's greatest mutant and human warriors. From the sanctified mountain Milo honed his senses, narrowing in on the arena itself. The roar of the crowd ushering in a feeling of nirvana.

The tourney hosts addressed the crowd, fueling their uproarious chants with energetic proclamations. Feeling as if the crowds chants represented a call for battle the metaphysical magister manifested himself before the crowd, dressed in a hooded hakama, face guarded by an illustrious mask. Silence had befallen the unknowingly indoctrinated onlookers as the mysterious stranger stood before both the audience and his initial opponent. Eying him intently Milo sighed heavily, unsure of this man's capability of posing a true challenge to the Keijijo Kesemuno's skill. The promise of a face off between himself and Quintus Knightfall was what prompted Milo's appearance, yet the inevitability of him having to earn his way to such a bout was apparent as he stood before his foe. With nothing between the two of them but dust and air, Milo smiled behind his mask before raising a single hand with a beckoning gesture. Uninterested in anything but the downfall of his rival Milo had no intentions of holding back. He would not test his foe, nor give them the chance to mount a truly potent offense against him. He intended to end this match in one move if his opponent would give him the chance.

@tranquil:

Prior To Landing

The trip to Siberia had already tried Wesley's patience farther than he had intended, the mere knowledge that an alien let alone a known Mutant Sympathizer had invited him to such a place was quite displeasing. But now he had the wait a long and grueling 20 hours before landing, whilst waiting patiently to arrive at the destination he spoke via hologram to his secretary.

"Margret, who are the filth I will be meeting with this evening?" He asked with a harsh and raspy tone, she chuckled for a brief moment before replying "Sir, little is known of why these two beings invited you, but surveillance have shown the others have already touched down. Your opponent is one known as Tranquil, we intercepted a signal detailing those who had already arrived. He is the only one known to not started his battle yet, which means he is waiting for you." Gritting his teeth in anger he knew the name, it was one of an advanced human/mutant who had spent time with the widely acclaimed Impero Ishin. A man who had forsaken his human ancestry long ago, a fact that sickened Wesley.

He barked "Give me all the information we have on this Tranquil, I have some time to kill." He said with a snarky grin as he watched images and videos of Tranquil.

Let the Battle Begin

Arriving just above Siberia and Tranquil he asked for the pilot to keep the plane steady, in an instant he leaped out of the plane mid-flight. Falling at rapid speeds a wide grin washed over his face as did the sensation of flying, just a mere thousand feet from the ground his jacket slapped and stiffened turning into a makeshift set of wings. He circled Tranquil for a brief moment before descending a few feet from him, Tranquil smiled and gestured for Wesley to make the first move. His dark black mask hiding a wide grin on his face, Wesley dug his feet into the snow covered earth, then brought his fists together slamming his Rings of Solomon together. As he did a bright light emanated from the rings and slowly washed over his body as if they were flames, a wide smile appeared on his face. Turning his arms from side to side his wrist guards began to channel the kinetic energies all around him, the simplest of energy transfers from the snow falling to his every move filled his body with power. Power he could redirect in devastating blasts, he leaned forward waiting for Tranquil to make the wrong move.

In an instant he was gone, using his boots he traveled in the blink of an eye appearing then reappearing moving in random paths but always moving around Tranquil. "You are probably the most filthy beast I have seen in sometime, your mother should of swallowed you..."

@wesley_odepius: A fortunate stroke of serendipity ushered in the arrival of the opposing combatant. A superfluous showing of aerial navigation ended in an elegant landing, placing the all american man just out of arm's reach. Gesture acknowledged, the masked mystery's every movement was carefully conceived, from the positioning of his feet for better leverage to the slamming of his fists to generate energy. Heaven's eyes documented the intake of individual particles as they interacted with one another. Energy transfers engulfed his body in a bedazzling luminescence that was pure eye candy for the raging crowd.

A slightly arced swinging motion of the arms allowed these fluctuations to continue and Milo simply shook his head, unmoved by the antics of his opponent. Heaven's eyes immediately revealed the opponent's capability to harvest kinetic energy. Perhaps a less wasteful use of energy, as expenditures from movement could now be stored for various uses. Deductive reasoning supported the idea that this energy may be used for blast of concussive force. Insisting on continuing to fuel the power build up Milo's foe began darting around at uncanny speeds, unwilling to initiate an offensive.

It seemed he wanted to play the role of the counter puncher. No stranger to combat, the Keijijo Kaze clasped both hands together, ring and pinky finger interlocked, as the middle, and index pressed together, image akin to a steeple. Elbows pointed out, Milo's shoulders arched, the entire arena was then doused in a white blinding light that would overload the optic nerve momentarily, rendering anyone without an exceptional visual prowess blind. In its wake the Tranquil stood, a fervent aura of fiery energy illuminated his physical form as an irresistible pressure fell upon the area. The snow began to pelt the ground with great force, turning what was bleak weather, into a torrential storm.

Taunts fell upon deaf ears as Tranquil turned to face his foe, precognitive spatial perception allowed him to pinpoint the opponent's location which in turn allowed him to line up an attack without having to match his speed. A turn to the right was followed by a two fisted slam into the ground. With his arms moving at ten percent the speed of light, the air between his fists and the ground would be greatly compressed. Less than a millisecond later the molecules would experience a rapid increase in temperature before undergoing nuclear fission. The great release of energy would completely destroy the original field, and if not for the energy absorption capabilities of the reddish orange aura Milo adopted, the audience would be placed in as much danger as his opponent. Damage travelling all the way to the mantle of the earth, the arena's surface would be reduced to molten rock buried within a mile deep crater. The sheer power of the attack would release 100,000 kilotons in a controlled blast outward, rendering it almost impossible for his opponent to escape the blast.

@_nobody_

The harsh Siberian climate was a dangerous place for the common man and the winds blew with a coldness which felt as if it would instantly freeze your lungs upon a single gulp of the frigid air. The Brotherhood member waltzed into the arena, the icy winds blowing his hood as it was raised to combat the cold, and if not for his enhanced physiology and biological cooling/heating facilities, he would have surely succumbed to the unforgiving temperature.

Standing, his eyes looked all around as he entered what he knew would be a dangerous, memorable bout. Unaware of his opponent thus for however, the esoteric assassin merely clenched his fists, adopting a karate-like stance as a powerful wave of pure telekinetic energy burst out from his body as the ground cracked under the unmitigated pressures of his telekinetic might. He was ready, and ready to kill whoever dared step foot in the icy arena.

The protective fabric of the Knightfall's dark blue wool cashmere pea coat, with an oversize martingale and wide collar revere, offered more then a substantial amount of insulation against the frigid Siberian climate. Allowing a reasonably quick and comfortable acclimation to the otherwise debilitating temperatures. His matching fedora, a growing trend in the Xsoteric's complementing wardrobe, helped in obscuring his recognizable facial features while paired along with an exclusive set of acetate framed Prada's with the keyhole bridge and coffee hued lenses. A distinguished amalgamation of functioning style and practicality. Listening intently as the tournament's host, and hostess, casually articulated the contest's parameters. Their aristocratic cadence and posture pulsing with each accent tailored syllable enthralling the unexpected masses in attendance. Even the other competitors seemed inspired by the dialectic discourse, but Quintus was not among them. ~Was this it? The great human/mutant tournament to decide it all?~ he thought to himself. The proprietors previous statement spoke of improved relations, of peace., neither of which fueled the Knightfall's propensity for violence. Nor did the fact that Ziccarra, a supposed participant and unknowing recipient of the same ominous letter he had received, was now stationed above the fray as if herself a Roman dignitary stationed on high in the Colosseum. Her obvious relation to the designer suit eccentric to her right was further cemented by a kiss. ~So was this her ploy? Another scheme orchestrated and carried out by the Liafador matriarch?~

Through the course of internal introspection the Living Weapon casually surveyed the sky for the streaking multi-colored blur of, Thee Champion. Curious to see if the legendary hero were somehow part of this theatrical carnival and whether or not he should truly be worried. With no sign of the New God Quintus grinned and subtly relaxed. Turning his focus to the would be competition and instantly recognizing the former Keijijo grandmaster, Milo. "Of course." dismissively scuffing. Slowly moving towards the outer region of the arena noticing Milo's unquestioned focus. Seemingly obsessed with proving himself to someone and ready to destroy the entire continent in order to do it. ~But for what? Win or lose this contest would decide nothing, influence no one. Even death apparently held no meaning at the end of it all, so what was the real point? Who would truly benefit from this tournament?~ Someone had methodically engineered this meeting ~but why now? Why these particular individuals?~ Aside from the Keijijo, Quintus recognized none of the other would be combatants. No, this contest was not an advantageous endeavor or stepping stone in his ideological climb, it was a trap. One in which the overall angle continued to allude and evade.

Sticking his leather gloved hands back in his pockets, Quintus sauntered towards the exit. He had seen enough.

@tranquil: He had hoped that his movements were sporadic enough to leave his opponent guessing, but he was quickly shown that Tranquil was no mere opponent. In a flash of skill his hands contorted into signs and techniques. In his "super speed" run around the terrain he had almost no time to react as Tranquil slammed both fists into the ground, in the fraction of a second a wave of pure energy rushed straight towards Wesley. Turing on a dime and running in the opposite direction Wesley ran with all his might, but the energy was quickly gaining on him, reaching into his jacket pocket he grabbed a inhaler of Peace and activated the shield his belt allowed. Taking a deep hit from the inhaler marked "Energy Absorption" he stopped dead and turned around, grinning from ear to ear and hoping this would work.

His hands glowed bright red as the wave of energy slammed into him, pushing him backwards through the snow. As the energy began to be siphoned into his palms he slowly began to realize the dose he had taken was not enough, the power was immense and he began to scream as it filled his body. Not being able to handle the sheer power he absorbed he redirected it point blank with the wall of energy he was fighting with. A massive explosion erupted from both walls of energy slammed point blank with each other. Sending Wesley toppling head over heels into the audience and smashing many behind his shield, the sheer power he had absorbed crackled around him as he flew vaporizing a good chunk of the audience he had slammed into. Feeling every muscle in his body ache all at once, he took another inhaler and took the entire dose in one deep breath. The inhaler marked "Healing" allowed for his pain to subside almost immediately, but even with the powers for a brief time his body would still be in pain as he healed.

Standing up in the audience he noticed that none of the audience had been harmed from Tranquils attack but only from Wesleys attempt at staving off the oncoming attack. Smiling he flicked his wrists and a long tendril of kinetic energy formed, swinging around and grabbing a few visibly mutant bystanders he turned them into a makeshift shield all around him. Parting the mutants in front of him he barked "A weakness....so simple..." With his other arm he flicked his wrist again, initiating his other wrist guard and a ball of energy shot out towards Tranquil. He knew the man would dodge it, but he wanted him to come in close. Bring him into the audience...and then he would attack with his own trump cards.

Unbeknownst to nearly all, another piece hovered among the kings and queens of combat. She had arrived with Quintus Knightfall. The cold chilled the petite girl to the core despite her fluffed, insulated attire. Had she been visible, the newly established Brainchild still would have been barely recognizable under the layers save for her piercing blue eyes. She was not here to fight. Her keen mind sought to fight the unseen enemy, an opponent fitting for the young, cerebral mutant. Something was amiss, and Sophia could feel it. The icy air could barely disguise a feeling of intangible vibrations of energy beyond the spectrum of humanoid senses.

With quiet tread, she observed Quintus. His sharp eyes unconvinced by the ploy. "Come on, Q. You're here now. At least give me enough distraction to figure out what the hell is going on before we leave." Keeping her distance, she surveyed the other combatants. She saw Milo and tried to stay out of his range of stealth detection. Sophia wondered if Ziccarra was in attendance. Her brief cloaked observation revealed little about her involvement in this scheme. Even in the frigid, Siberian climate, the hosts and several others felt somehow cold, devoid of... something. Her first order of business for her sneaking would be to scout for possible threats to her invisible investigation. She stepped quietly in and around like a ghost, checking patrons' awareness of her and examining and entrances and exits that might need to be breached. Doubtless, her new abilities would come in handy.

The Brainchild's situation was a peculiar one. She could not reveal her suspicions to the other participants lest they blow the situation by being blazingly obvious that it was a trap. But by being herself suspicious, should one of the contenders be aware of her presence and reveal it, she not only endangered the mission but possibly her life. Everyone was an enemy. But to be honest, that was just the way she liked it. While unmasking the deeper plot, she also made mental notes when she could as to the possible spectrum of abilities of the participants. This could also give her more insight into the Knightfall. Though he was her secretive father, Sophia didn't trust Quintus as far as she might be able to mentally throw him. He was devious. She knew her own mind and knew she wouldn't trust her.

Sophia made invisible faces in the camera. Invisible photobombs, for the win. She weaved in an out of the spectators. Some indeed had no unusual qualities to her extrasensory perception as she felt through them with her mind. The loud announcements by the hosts pounded in her ears. To the death? Not sinister at all. She caught site of the first fight commencing between Milo and a human contestant Wesley who seemed to be augmented by relics and technology. A hooded man was there… wait. Tempest. She recognized him. As a mutant, he would be facing off against a human mercenary she had yet to see enter the arena. Mostly she wondered the sort of person her father would face. She found it hard to believe the hosts would match the peak mutant with someone of lesser power. But ultimately, he focus was less on the fighter and more on the cold observers watching their drama play out from the overlook. Sophia tried to sneak her way into their box to see if she could make out any of their conversations.

@brainchild: @the_matriarch:

To maintain the meticulously cultivated facade of genuine humanity, a reactionary or instinctive smile of contentment curled along the features of his Juvenal Capello guise in response to Zedora's affectionately planted kiss. How much of this apparent contentment translated into any sincere satisfaction or lack there of on Aphasic's part was up for debate, such was the nature of the Quantum Savant. Intrinsically, his was a disposition frustratingly laborious to analyze. Captivating himself with the cinematic aestheticism and entertainment value of the ensued bouts, perfectly mimicking the interest and investment of the gathered crowd in the over-top showcase of monstrous power and blistering speed on Milo's part, 'Juvenal' sadly, was not without his interruptions.

There was one threatening to disrupt the harmony of the organized tournament. It was however, not Quintus' attempted exit, that dilemma would be addressed by another. It was the detected surplus of sapience in the vicinity. There was an exact numerical quantity to those coerced into attending the tournament, a number that encompassed how many spectators were in the crowd, and how many 'news channels' and 'sports broadcasters' had come. And with no additional combatant, it was evident to Aphasic's ceaselessly perceptive person that an investigation by an intruding party had commenced. The quantum information of this particular intruder's consciousness flared like an dying star to the enigmatic intellectual. Though he could neither risk unveiling his facade nor potentially diverting attention from the present bouts.

An alternative course of action would be taken. Turning towards Zedora, softly sliding his palm atop her neighboring hand, 'Juvenal' intimately whispered into her ear, portraying the compelling image of two close acquaintances with subtle undertones of a possible, more intimate relationship. His whispered words however, could not be further from the truth. "There's an intruder in the vicinity. I will leave control of this... thing", coolly referring to his temporarily adopted, organic body, "To one of our quantum computers. Replicating the basic actions of a savage animal does not require much intelligent effort". Shifting the quantum information of his own consciousness from Juvenal's frame to space-time geometry, embracing his pure, unsullied existence as a visually imperceptible quantum soul, Aphasic engaged this youthful investigator in conversation.

A male voice reached out to the girl's mind. It was unnervingly calm yet exuded an almost hypnotic drawing power, a mystifying magnetism bordering on the supernatural. "You seem familiar", it began, and in truth she did, oddly familiar to one he had encountered prior to the girl's conception. "And... curious. Your lack of faith in this tournament's intentions is reasonable. I don't particularly believe anything that these... evolutionary degenerates say. The hosts, the combatants, the audience. Animals, animals that in time will succumb to the will of evolution, the will of an it, and yield to a superior race as they are all brought to the brink of extinction, watching a new empire erected from the ashes of their burnt kingdom. And before that, mutants and humans alike will rot, bending to the laws of death and decay".

"I'm an observer of things. Transcendence from this physical cage, it could be yours. I can.. see that you enjoy the anonymity of functioning beyond the perception of others. Perhaps a step closer and you can have more? Beyond the comprehension of others even. You will know no death, no decay, no subjection to entropy", the voice seemed to grow eerily louder, as if a presence were creeping right behind her, the speaker's hand seemingly reaching out to grab her, "Immortality. Evolution will bend to your will. The furthest reaches of knowledge, secrets that have eluded the coveting eyes of man, cosmic truths that mankind was never meant to know. All of it can be yours... at a price".

@aphasic:

Then there was a voice. The girl stopped dead still, her blue eyes fixed in her invisible form. Just when she thought Siberia couldn't get any colder, she felt her blood freeze over. Her head darted around looking for the source of the mental communication, but it felt as though it came from everywhere and yet nowhere, another dimension touching hers for a moment of chilling monologue. This... creature seemed to be aware of the farce, confiding in her his suspicions. The familiar song of death and decay played through her mind by a master musician. She knew the tune quite well. But the melody was not over. This male voice was not only player but audience to the play of existence. She related, and he played into their harmonies with tantalizing grace. Sophia felt her heart pounding faster, almost feeling as though someone was behind her. But it was a presence unlike anything she had felt before, an intangible touch that reached the deepest recesses of her peculiar mind. The song was sung within her ear, and like the voice of a siren, she felt drawn to his beckoning. Perfect knowledge, transcendence beyond this tiny, fleshy prison, a mind free and unconfined shaping the universe to its will. Her mouth nearly salivated at the proposal...

But something snapped. Her eyes blazed with sudden revelation. She spoke within her own mind, uncertain how this peculiar entity had managed the feat. "I intend to pay no price, not to you. I know who you are. So enamoured with your own perfection, you have blinded yourself to your own weaknesses. As for your offer, she warned me of your temptations. Yes, your ambition revealed you. You have nothing to give but what the universe has bequeathed to you, and your power requires that you take away my birthright. Like you I was made with purpose, to be the future of a species, power limited only by imagination. I will find away to stop you."

The Brainchild knew that the things she felt were no longer organic. Sentient machines. She felt a splinter of doubt even in her own thoughts. If there ever was a race to conquer the universe, it would be such as these. She had been prey to insanity before; perhaps at times, it still gripped her mind. What were the chances anyone would believe a mad, little girl? She was so weak and young still. How could she oppose this force? How could anyone? Her mind shrunk back into dark places where chaos reigned and logic was a myth, an uncharted land untouched by probability. If control had a price what was the price she would have to pay for undefined freedom?

@quintus_knightfall:

She had been given an invitation to a tournament, something she almost dismissed but as she read on a single quote directed towards her. The people who had created the tournament had something to say directly to her "Vengeance shall be had Moira..." These people knew exactly who she was, the fact had sent a shiver down her spine. But as she read further and seen who had also been invited her hands turned into fists and she slammed the wall.

His name "Quintus..." They had met once, and she knew he never even thought of her twice since then. Moving to her room she opened a cabinet and grabbed a handful of vials all labeled "Poisonous" or "Venomous" and in a rage filled fit downed each. Her body twists and turns internally as her body absorbs the harmful chemicals, they fuse to her bodily fluids turning an already dangerous mix of chemicals into a Chernobyl of fluids. Gritting her teeth she looks into the mirror, screaming loud she smashes the mirror and disappears into the night.

Siberia

Her plan touches down and she steps out, listening over the loud speakers as her hosts speak about the tournament and how it will show off both sets of mutants and humans skills. But all said over the speakers were just a murmur in her ears, rage still filled her body as she slowly made her way towards Quintus who had seen everything and thought he was better, he made his way towards the exit.

Her body covered in a thin layer of mesh and body armor, keeping her warm and protected at the same time. She rips her gloves off her hands, dropping each to the ground as she slowly approaches Quintus from behind. As she moves she bites down onto her hands, drawing the deadly "blood" to the surface it dripped from her hands leaving a trail of drips. The white snow turning crimson with each step she makes, soon she reaches Quintus and barks "Hey, Oswald!" barking a reference to Lee Harvey Oswald, she wishes that she looked like her son, so that the moment he turned around he could see her. Know immediately who she was, and know that this fight was not just for entertainment but would be fought for vengeance. Lifting her arm as it transforms into a gun, her poisonous "blood" fusing with the gun and giving it ammunition. She knew he would dodge it, but she didn't care she was making a point as she fired a single shot towards the back of his head.

@brainchild:

There was a shift in his vocal character. A brief one, but a shift nonetheless, as if this mesmeric voice's speaker was... smiling. A smile of knowing. The girl's predicted reactions were two. Either she would meet his seducing promises and the lure of knowledge with a reluctant embrace... or she would reject them, aggressively. It was not particularly difficult to anticipate the reactions of animals, Aphasic felt, so long as there was an internal logical consistency to his method. "Interesting", the voice began, it's alluring mystique, the unsettling calmness with which it spoke remained without fault, projecting an an almost oppressive sense of superiority, that it's speaker was one emancipated from miscalculations.

Resuming, the voice's cool refusal to even acknowledge the girl's philosophical bend pointing at their supposed weakness was it's method of quietly asserting conversational authority, by addressing only that which it prioritized. "Humans... mutants... meta-humans, trivial differences between an otherwise identical group of great apes", it remarked, "I offer you what these apes have long craved since their conception. I offer you, godhood. With the knowledge I offer, with the unknowable truths of my domain, in your hands the ability to shape the world with your deeds will lie. The true definition of godhood". There was a pause, as the speaker was contemplating killing her should she refuse him, should she refuse his indoctrination a second time.

"The future of your species...", a relaxed ghost of a laugh escaped him, succinctly audible prior to his resumption. "A future of continued subservience to the will of physical phenomena? Subservience to death, decay, entropy, evolution, natural selection, disease.. is subservience nonetheless. The future of your species is resumed slavery". Neither mutants nor humans were the supposed masters of this world as they prided themselves in being. How can one call themselves a master if still they are subservient to the will of another, of an... an it. "This universe, like so many others will embrace me", there was an enigmatic implication behind his words. Other universes? His reach did indeed extend beyond their reality.

"This world, this universe is already mine. The masses simply don't know it", the voice paused. "Humanity, mutant-kind, they... you only exist in this world because I allow it. There is a simple choice to our scenario. You can embrace embrace me and live in my new, perfect world. Or you can die in your old, and rotting kingdom from which mine will rise", again he paused, concluding with a chilling message, the voice echoing from ear to ear prior to forever vanishing. "You do not negotiate with God". And surely she knew, the last to oppose him, to oppose them was after all, her mother.

@wesley_odepius:

Sound in his defense the human supremacist underestimated the volatile lethality of the energies he attempted to harness. With no escape plan he was forced to dispel this energy in the direction of the surplus that remained. The chain reaction resulted in exposure to dampened version of Milo's overachieving attack, sending Wesley's body into the audience with disastrous results. Dust settled revealing the crushed components of both mutant and human alike beneath the opponent's shield. Heavy analysis revealed that even the shielding had not displaced all the energy. Wounds had been sustained, and despite Milo's efforts, the calamitous defense mustered by the human supremacist resulted in the death of the onlookers.

Belief that Milo harbored compassion for his mutant brethren spurred action. A tendril composed of pure energy scooped up members of the audience, utilizing them as a makeshift shield before an utterance of weakness on the Keijijo Kaze's behalf. Promptly after a ball of energy inferior to Milo's previous attack was sent in his direction. Intent on showing how ruthless he truly was the Keijijo Elite cocked back his arm ready to unleash a focused blast on the same level of power in the form of a fist. Yet the moment his arm reached full extension the flash cloak's electric vermillion aura dissipated. Milo's form was swallowed whole by the energy ball and small explosion ensued. The energy dissipated and all that stood before the arena was a tattered remnant of the Keijijo Kaze. A soft grin developed into a cackling cacophony of laughter. "Seems I've exhausted the energy that was afforded to me. Its been fun my friend." These final words were followed by a sudden pop. Milo's withered form was reduced to a plume of smoke, revealing that a clone had participated in the Keijijo Kaze's stead.

The opening “act” of the Goblet of Fire proved to be everything she expected, the timely assault by the impetuous Mila Archer gave the competition a much needed exposition of excitement. Her eyes captured every instant of the battle, incalculable amounts of data poured into the SCN; capturing even the smallest details of Milo tell. Even though the Keijiko offered unequaled power, Wesley provided the technical aspects needed to improve fitness; such as energy absorption. Aphasic hand gently slid over the dorsal side of her hand, momentarily snagging her attention.

“I will take point.” Zedora replied, lethargically turning her gaze back to the blood sport. “You won’t get away”…her voice turned callous. She briefly caught glimpse of Quintus exiting the fight area. “If he tries to leave…kill him.” Her voice echoed through quantum space, allowing concealment from those nearby. Her words hit the ears of the semi-indoctrinated Cardinal Goddess; her presence in the arena was something Zedora intended to exploit at any given time, as well as that of Jayden and Andres.

The battle between Milo and Wesley had seemingly come to an end, the lively flash of flames originating from an explosion sent a concussive brush of wind blowing over her body. “Not yet…” She commanded, stopping Jayden from immediately charging in to finish Wesley. The death of the on-lookers was unexpected, but caring was something she currently didn’t have time for

Milo proved himself to be smarter than he looked, using a clone only allowed them to emulate only the moves used. “Milo made an impressive gambit with the clone, however his efforts shall be in vain” She continued, this time speaking to all the indoctrinated forces around them.

To this point, both humanity and mutant-kind exist because she deemed it so. The emotions that usually defined the apes were easily to manipulate, even easier to telegraph. As she quietly battled the growing curiosity of the combatants; the SHEEN facility begin to relay data back to the Hawkins Facility.

Slightly shifting in her seat, she promptly begin to download files on Milo’s battle with Cleopatra Thea in Australia.

His involvement in that conflict was all she needed to create a basis. Pushing down on the arms of her seat, Zedora rose to her feet to congratulate Wesley on being the first competitor to advance to the “Triple Threat” portion of the tourney.

“Congratulations…you have represented humanity well today…please return to the holding area, until the other rounds have finished”.

“Finish him” She commanded, activating the Cardinal Queen. Ziccarra pushed off the wall, and disappeared in a sea of chairs.

Her attention shifted from Wesley and Tranquil, to the imminent battle between Moira and Quintus. With one battle down, and just 2 more to go; H.I.V.E was on the very fringes of completing one of three major goals.

@aphasic: From the shadows of psionically warped light there came the soft sound of a girl's laughter. She bounced around quietly in her secret aura as she thought toward the quantum entity of reason. "What is godhood to someone who doesn't believe in god? I cannot negotiate with such an entity truly. I would be mad… and yet," she paused to tap her chin, "I am talking to you even as you compare yourself to it. You offer continued existence of the mind or some other transcendent essence that is a part of me. But if I am mortal, a continuation of me beyond would no longer be me. And so your offer would be a lie. You claim this makes us slaves. But then it must be known what is our master. Most humans are unaware of their own subservience as you put it. A narrow-mindedness on there part. Isn't it conceivable that there is a faction of reality that is your master as well? You wouldn't know it of course even as us 'lesser apes' seldom have knowledge of the transcendent."

A familiar stretching pain was felt in her mind, one she often felt as a child when the hallucinations would take her, as if her psyche were stretching beyond the confines of her skull, beyond even the conceived universe. It was the realm of anomalies, the place from which the universe was spawned or perhaps the method of cycling universes. One could not describe the realm of madness even those who traveled within the void.

"I choose to rot and die as is my course. Time is my worst enemy, but I would say that it might also be yours… in time. Have you always existed?" She questioned the man with sincere curiosity. "If so, perhaps there is hope. If existence is like the conservation of energy, then it has always existed. Perhaps I will continue to exist in such a way even as I have always existed despite this brief blip of sentience. In which case the biggest difference is the time frame between your sentience and my own. Time is such a fickle thing. If you have not always existed, it stands to reason you will eventually come to an end." Speakers of other worlds and times swirled through her mind like and impressionistic painting.

"Can you paint the music of the universe? The Brainchild can feel it's smell. It's imperfection is what makes it beautiful. Without imperfection there would be no differentiation. High notes, low notes, each pitch and colour it's own piece in the story. I cannot accept your invitation anymore than a fish can dance ballet. I will die, and you will no longer exist in my sentience… which for all I know could be the only reality." Her eyes narrowed. "Do you only exist in my mind like they tell me? If not, perhaps I can join you for a moment." The young woman remembered her training with @tranquil. She wondered if there was a way to 'see' or control this non-human entity. How would she do it? What string of reality would she pull to access his transcendent realm?

The Brainchild stepped up to the corpses. She pointed at the black and white image of @the_matriarch. "This one is different than you. Without her you are incomplete." She grinned. "You have a weakness."

@brainchild:

An innate amusement and studious curiosity touched him, as if his very person was not engaged in a conversational exchange about their respective philosophical bends, but more reminiscent of a scientist's intrigue in the cruel experimentation of lesser animals, of lab rats. The Brainchild, along with the likes of Catriona, his primary targets, were to be his lab rats, their entire planet was the experiment's subject, and their universe one of his laboratories. As for what godhood meant to an entity with no inherent belief in such a supernatural concept? "A simple thing glorified by the... minds", there was almost a reluctance in attributing the quality of a functional 'mind' to the organics, "Of the organics. And a feat achievable with control". Control. It seemed to be Aphasic's favorite word. Control was his absolution, it was his only truth, there was no meaning behind anything not entailing the acquisition of absolute control.

"No. There isn't", the Quantum Savant answered with disturbing composure and perpetual self-certainty. To him at least, there was no transcendent phenomenon that governed his existence or the choices he made. That the Brainchild sought to speculate on such grounds by comparing humanity's ignorance with respect to their subservience to entropy, evolution, death and decay to a potential ignorance on his part... amused him. She truly was an entertaining individual, it was not unlike king in the engaging element that draws one to a painting, either they are struck with wonderment of the artist's brilliance, or amused by their lack of it. In this case, it was not the genetic brilliance of the Brainchild that struck his intrigue. It was her adherence to the classic human assumption that other sentient beings are in some ways, like them. "Interesting that you mention time as an adversary of mine. Yet as every second comes and goes for you animals, the touch of entropy grows firmer, the hand of death and decay creeps closer".

"Interesting indeed, because your... master, your evolution affords you organics no time. Evolve or die". Almost, the enigmatic intellectual almost yielded to the influence of laughter, to the twisted humor of their conversation. "Your mind is an entertaining playground", his mesmeric, cool voice resumed, "One that I enjoy subtly retouching, experimenting on. But I exist everywhere", and in every point in time as a nonlocally distributed quantum soul, a god-observer of different realities. He has traversed the multiverse, peregrinated to the universes with fundamental physical constants so different from the nU's that it was not finely tuned for the type of information processing necessary for life as is known in this universe or the other. But he was neither alive nor dead. "Then join me". This was similar to the trap that orchestrated Andres Knightfall's downfall. In his curiosity, he was drawn to Aphasic.

Beguiled by the prospect of meeting this mystifying entity and thus willingly shifted his own consciousness to an omnipresent space-time geometry, a domain where there is no greater master than Aphasic, where he ruthlessly broke the Spaniard's mind into fragmented shards scattered across an infinite multi-verse. There was no alarm in the Quantum Savant's voice following the Brainchild's remark regarding Zedora, the Matriarch. There was only a chilling declaration, one that maintained the speaker's aura of an individual untouched by the affliction of miscalculation. "No. I have an expendable asset". He lied. Though he could not allow it to be known that without the Matriarch he was indeed, incomplete.

@tranquil: @the_matriarch: Watching in almost slow motion as his blast hurtled towards Tranquil, he knew the man would easily dodge the blast. He was ready for him to do just that, preparing a second wave of slaughter as he tightened his grip on the audience members.There screams took his attention away for a brief moment, as he enjoyed there screams he turned to look again at Tranquil and watched as his blast hit him square in the chest. A massive explosion ripped through the arena as the ball of energy erupted into a large cloud of fire and debris.

As the dust settled Tranquil stood tattered and beaten it seemed, but even then he grinned oddly as his body began to crumble into nothing. Mentioning something about his body not being the real deal, that the man he fought was but a simple clone. Feeling a bit of anger as he heard and watched the clone fall to pieces, he prepared for a counter something even more powerful than the last blast sent his way. But suddenly the speakers rang loud congratulating Wesley on his victory of Tranquil.

Instantly his body relaxed as the first of his battles had come to a shocking conclusion, looking at the struggling mutants in his grasp. He flicked his wrist and the tendrils retracted, releasing the mutants. They all turned to him with glares of hatred, he gestured for each to look down. He held a Peace Maker aimed at the first of the mutants "Make a move you scum..." They noticed and simply moved away slowly. He let a breath of relaxation escape his lungs as he moved from the arena through the hallway to an area he could be alone and breathe for a moment.

As he began to relax further his com link chimed on "Sir.." Wesley groaned "Give me a god damn moment Margret!" She sighed slightly and continued against his orders "Sir...it seems someone has followed you, your are no longer alone." The room he stood in was dimly lit and he smashed his fist into the wall creating a bit of kinetic energy, tossing what was absorbed into his wrist guards down the hallway in the form of a ball it lit the hallway up slightly. Standing in the darkness staring at him was Ziccarra, his eyes widened in shock instantly his body stance was defensive "Marge....give me status on Ziccarra..." She hesitated before replying "Sir...shes been missing for months....why?" Wesley pulled an inhaler from his pocket and took a hit from what was labeled "Healing Powers" instantly his wounds he sustained from his fight with Tranquil healed. His internal organs again were pain free, going from one inhaler to another labeled "Super Strength Class 5" he took the entire inhaler in one long hit.

"Because shes standing right in front of me.....and she looks incredibly pissed off." His eyes narrowed as he focused on her eyes, something caught his attention and then he realized it. "Jesus Margret....shes being controlled...this was a set up." In an instant he ran, not wishing to stop he barged straight through the walls of the room using his newly acquired powers and kept on running, because he was so outclassed all he could do was run and somehow defend himself, because if she really wanted she could break him like a twig.

@wesley_odepius:

Ziccarra’s verdant pea green gaze cut through the darkness placing a positive I.D on her target. “Target Acquired” She reported, hoisting her shield to cover her body. “Engage Ziccarra” Zedora’s command was carried out without the slightest bit of hesitation. The indoctrinated Cardinal Goddess managed to craft a cynical smirk, the thought of chasing game presented a challenge.

“Fool. You exist because WE allow it” She declared, sounding as if she too were a machine. Extending her hands in Wesley’s direction, she forged a new location from an illusion. “I am the Goddess of Illusion, where did you think you can run to?” She asked, with a heavy Spanish inflection.

The heavy metal infrastructure of the Sheen Facility, shifted to an expansive rainforest in the middle of monsoon season. Once again casting her hands forward, Ziccarra commanded huge vines to split the ground before Wesley to serve as a distraction.

Through the deafening clash of the thunder, Ziccarra’s conquistador bullwhip lashed toward Wesley sending a barrage of ornate destructive energy streamlining through the air. “Your kind killed my daughter…” She whispered, the tortured thoughts caused her destructive energy to spontaneously proliferate in her palm.

“Their kind ruined my first marriage” she hissed again, this time sending her energy spiraling toward Wesley again. The explosive properties of her energy could cause catastrophic damage if hit dead on; but it also served as an anti-movement strategy.

Picking up a slow saunter toward her foe, it was unclear whether or not; her thoughts were her own. She was ever informed about the death of Isadora, nor did she really blame anyone for the divorce between her and Quintus.

The image of Aphasic mirrored in her avocado gaze, something had happened; was she begin controlled? She couldn’t explain how she got here, or why she even bothered attacking, but she couldn’t bring herself to halt her assault.

“Alexis…” She managed to whispered the name of her husband, the only amount of self-control she could muster before turning aggressive.

@aphasic:

Sophia scoffed as she climbed up on the stands as if looking for the 'speaker.' "I'm guessing you see the future then and not just the multiverse to make such a certain observation that time isn't your enemy. Haven't figured out how to do that yet, but I don't see why it isn't conceivable. If one views time like a fabric… just a little fold, a little tear, a little stitch. What does it take to string a god, I wonder? Of what are you constructed?" She sat cross-legged in one of the chairs as she thought. "I might enjoy experimenting on you. You wouldn't even know it. That's what we do. You do know mice are actually pan-dimensional beings? I myself am a house mouse. I live where I don't belong. Do all sorts of things right under the noses of others." It all made sense to Douglas Adams. Higher evolved creatures could often mistake what they perceive as lesser evolved creatures as inferior. Always underestimate a mouse. Every so often even one so quiet as a mouse had to pipe up to tell the powers that be just how narrow-minded they were being. Haha. Being. It's funny because existence is a joke. The Brainchild grinned at her humour.

The girl looked across the stadium at the Matriarch and her enigmatic companion. "An expendable asset? Yeah, that's what I say about my heart too. Nah, as tempting as the offer is to join you, I think I'll take my chances with time and decay. More poetic than you. The whole 'all the universe is an experiment,' we built that. Spoiler alert: forty-two." She stood to her feet to find out where Quintus was. "If you're done patronizing me and trying to fool the contestants concerning what they're really up against by pitting them against each other, which only morons are buying by the way," she held up an invisible finger precociously, "I think Mr. Knightfall and me should be leaving soon. Tea time for the mad dormouse. But I'm sure we'll see each other again…" her eyes stared intently at the hosts with a sudden murderous severity, "when I come to collect my mother's corpse."

The Brainchild was young and inexperienced, not capable yet of her full power. She figured she wouldn't be the downfall of the Third Society. But is was already written; the characters in play, a cast people more proficient than her. The house mouse would just be there to do as she always does… scavenge the scraps.

@brainchild:

The child's self-assured statements and affirmed proclamations while admirable in that she was fundamentally dictated by a character of fortitude, offered little to nothing in the form of discomfort. Instead, it imparted within the mystifying voice's speaker, subtle amusement. The voice response to the girl's unwavering and resolute resolve? Taciturn dismissal, great arrogance in great silence perhaps. The voice's speaker, governed by an unshakeable sense of superiority to anything and everything, asserted his authority and dominance in their conversational exchange by selecting which statements so much as warranted his attention while dismissing that which to him, lacked any substance. A human does not debate the mathematical complexities of quantum mechanics with a housefly, and the speaker does not debate with a primitive ape, period.

"Amusing", a character emancipated from miscalculation continued to carry the tone of his voice, "That you call yourself the House Mouse". Though from the omnipresent speaker's perspective, this Brainchild was not the house-mouse she believed herself. In many ways however, she was the mouse in their particular interaction. Reminiscent of the mouse from an iconic tale in which the mouse after unintentionally drinking from a puddle of spilled liquor, drunkenly seeks out that 'damn cat'. A scenario no doubt concluding with the rodent's certain demise. "In many ways, you are the rodent in this conversation", the speaker agreed with unsettling calmness. "Though in... other ways, you are a canine as well", he coolly paused prior to yet again patronizing the significance of her existence as an organic compared to his as a transcendent quantum entity or external god-observer of reality, "Your.. defiant reaction holds no weight against what is to come. Occasionally, a dog bites the hand of it's master".

"And much like these combatants, these hosts, and this audience, you're simply another stray dog in my pound, from which I will select which mutt to... generously put down or allow to remain caged", his enigmatic smirk almost permeated through his chilling words as he continued his verbal disassociation with the Goblet of Fire tournament. Concluding the succinct yet intriguing conversation with the girl, the speaker casually mocked the girl's closing remark prior to himself audibly dissipating for the remainder of the event, the oppressive, unnerving atmosphere vanishing along with him, "Good. As per your wishes, I look forward to showing you your mother's corpse".

@shanana: Wesley had not intended on fighting someone like Ziccarra, he ran full tilt using both his speed and quickly dwindling Super Strength. Smashing through a single wall that quickly turned into a large tree, and a lush forground appeared suddenly. He knew it was an illusion, it was all in his head he kept telling himself. But each flora and fauna felt so real, he hated illusions and hated telepathy even more. She was using illusions that tapped into his mind, affecting what he saw and he knew if he allowed it. They would bring him down quickly, she was no mere human nor was she a mutant. She was alien in every sense of the word, and his body knew the exact action to take when confronted with someone of her level...run like hell.

Screaming fast through the bushes and leaping over fallen trees as bolts of energy slammed down all around him, her energy whip screamed behind him. Turning and falling fast to the ground it whizzed just overhead. He watched as it almost touched his nose and cut a tree in two with such force the tree exploded. Sending bark and debris smashing into his face, he rolled quickly out of her way again as she brought down a cascading wave of energy down on top of him. Moving fast he got to his feet and ran, watching as a large area of trees slowly came closer and closer. Barking loud to Margret he screamed "For the love of god!!! Give me a location, anywhere." She stammered and paniced "Where sir?!" She screamed as another wave of energy from the rage filled alien vixen slammed down. Smashing into his back he was tossed full force into the mass of trees, his bones almost hummed as the energy filled his body.

Seizing hard as the electric energy surged through his body, smashing his teeth together hard as his mouth closed shut as his body seized. Teeth broke and crack with such force, bones snapped as his body was slammed through tree after tree just from the force of the attack. Slowly his body bounced off the ground and skidded to a stop, she was barking something to him, but all he could hear was a loud ringing in his ears. He was way too out matched "Give me a ninja...no....give me a bitch with a hard on for rage..." He thought to himself as his body screamed in agony. Finally she stood over top of him, his wrist began to glow bright blue.

Through a blood soaked smile he was able to get out a single phrase "Scum...." Finally Margret had found a location, using his ITD he was instantly teleported out of harms way. Within seconds of arrival teams of OdeWes came to his aid, lifting the still proud Wesley to his feet. Immediately injecting him with enhancers and pain medication, he pushed them away and grabbed a coat one had brought. Swinging the large black leather jacket, he slid it on and even in his bloodied and bruised state he was thinking of the future. He grabbed the nearest grunt and pulled him close, speaking through broken teeth he spat "Phone...NOW!" The grunt raised a shaky hand, inside his cellphone. Snatching the phone away from him he dialed "Margret...get me Janus. Bump her up to the biggest lab immediately, tell her to start looking for any remains of Isadora Liafador....I am not going to be beaten so badly again. I need a way to beat that disgusting alien, and her daughters blood will hold the key." He crushed the phone in his still enhanced hands, dropping the remains he made his way towards the jet. The destruction of what remains of the Liafador clan sitting in the forefront of his mind.

@moira_marquis:

The shattered tranquility of the Siberian atmosphere was the result of a deadly projectile and its potential coronation of catastrophe. Whistling as it blitzed the back of Quintus' head, which had already begun to elusively feint sideways just in time to avoid its more lethal intent, though not its entirety. A slight hiss slithered from the Xsoteric Mamba's snarled lips as his designer fedora spun along the frosty terrain, and his finger inspected the warm rose colored stream racing down the side of his ear. Quickly turning to face the would be assailant, noticeably interested by her apparent amalgamation of flesh and weaponry, Quintus calmly retrieved both hat and composure before addressing the gun toting beauty. "That is an....exceptional ability." Verbally acknowledging a degree of attentive investment. "Clearly you are not...human? And there for no enemy of mine." Almost puzzled by the lack of noticeable human participation. The event had been billed as the tournament that would settle it all, end the war and declare the dominant species. And yet, all the Knightfall Polymath had witnessed were extraordinary individuals. Individuals who's genetic roadmap had deviated from the homo-sapien freeway long ago, and now stood atop the the evolutionary summit of superiority. This was not the fight he had been offered.

With two methodically tempered strokes readjusting the interrupted balance of his hat, removing the slight layer of snow and creases, an elevated chin premiered the stoic absolution naturally permeating from the Knightfall's stylish physique. "I did not come here to slay my fellow X-traordinaires. My fight is with the genetically malnourished relics of a forgotten age, not with the children of the atom." extending his hand and gesturing for the unknown woman to join him, Quintus had no idea that the woman before him was the mother of the slain VP. And her blood pumped nothing but vengeance.

@moira_marquis: @quintus_knightfall:

Ziccarra’s untamed assault on Wesley proved to be more than the humanitarian could handle. His entire strategy for dealing with the puppeteer and her Cardinal Goddess was to evade, it was as if the gods answered his prayers; soon he had teleported away from the location, with very little knowledge on what was actually going on.

“How should I proceed” Ziccarra’s voice resound through the quantum link but its receiver, Zedora, had yet to respond; as she was watching the Moira-Quintus situation made an interesting turn. “Stand Down, Wesley isn’t leaving here anymore enlightened than when he arrived.” Nonchalantly swiveling her head, back in the direction of Moira and Quintus, she placed her aesthetic steel blue eyes on the situation, toying with the idea of interfering.

“Looks at these apes believing themselves to be superior because of a gene mutation.” She hissed, allowing her hands to glow an ornate cerulean blue, levitating from her press seat to a few paces behind Quintus’ left shoulder, she continued to narrate the grisly fate of organics.

“You are a genetic mutation in the galaxy, fighting on every level; Black and White, Muslim and Jew…mutant and human. Oblivious to see that every denomination of organic life is coming to an end.”

Around the stadium, the hinges on the cages opened, the sound of erratic hissing filled the arena coupled with aggressive screams. One of the damned, freshly transformed converged on the three. Its exhale sounded like the last breath of a dying person, the sound reverberated through its twisted lungs, poisoned with tubes and diodes and the unholy presence of third society guidance.

“As you can see over time the body’s organs, skin and water content are converted into cybernetic materials; blood is changed to a sickly green fluid, and the body generates an electrical charge. Death is not an option only long lasting life”

There was a subtle rumble in the house of the Matriarch; hordes of husk, created from nearby Russian prisons poured into the arena surrounding their mother.

“We’re the Third Society, and we’re giving people a makeover” as she spoke, she attempted to burn the image of organic fate in their minds. Parting the sea of clamoring husk, she instructed them to attack; while she made her exit. This tournament had reached a most fortunate denouement.

"This is your destiny"