Revenge for the Fallen (Actual)

Noc Haven - 48 hours ago

"Mother mother!"

The ecstatic voice of a young blue skinned boy rings throughout the camp of displaced mutants as his torn sandals patter against the gravel floor and tattered blue overalls fall over his swaying bone spiked arms. Surrounded by others such as himself, this is the only place that he had ever learned of acceptance. He and his fellow immigrants who had been banished from their places of birth. Exiled as a punishment for only being who they were born to be. Mutants.

"Yes, Sweetie?"

The loving and soft voice of a mother responds as she smiles towards her blued hued child while sweeping the dust out of her living quarters and onto the busy street outside. Her smile was as joyous as any caring parent would be at the sight of their own youth.

"What's gotten you all thrilled?"

She said with an inquisitive expression while rustling his already tossed brown hair. Bad news was common for their people who had been forced to uproot themselves constantly, but here in the shacks of Noc Haven, at least they were free from persecution and any sort of change of pace brought smiles to the young mutants.

"Sonar said she heard a few helicopters in the distance and they were on their way here! Do you think Noc Haven is sending medical supplies and maybe even food like last month?"

Sonar, a friend of the young boy who was nicknamed for her extraordinary hearing was rarely if ever wrong when it came to eavesdropping. The prediction brought an uncomfortable feeling to the mother's stomach, but she brushed it off. More rations were always welcomed so she convinced herself to be a little more optimistic and just smiled back at her child.

"It should be. Why don't you go and play before the cafeteria ope-"

Her suggestion is cutoff as the sounds of rotary winged air crafts begin to close in on the camp and hover above the town square. The wash from the propellors cause the grime from the landscape to kick up and powder the huts and shacks as they start landing in the center of the encampment.

Strange. They never land. They always kick the pallets off.

Then it strikes her. The blacked aircraft show none of the technological advancements as the cybernetic empire of Noc Haven would normally augment their aircrafts with, while small subdued American flags ornament the exterior tail ramps.

"Scum of the earth!" A voice barks from the back of the helicopter carrier's now open tail ramp as it begins to shut down.

Oh no.

"James get inside and lock the door."

"But mothe-"

"Now, James!"

Reluctant, but frightened the boy sprints inside the small shack and obeys his mother. The residents begin to gather around the choppers. Some are defensive, hesitant to investigate the commotion while others are still deceived, expecting to collect a cache of living supplies. All assumptions change as soldiers armed with rifles and clad in black fatigues and body armor march towards the group. Their faces are concealed in black nomex hoods an their crowns protected by ebony helms. The subdues American flag is stitched proudly and perfectly to their sleeves.

What can only be presumed as the leader stomps in between the formation, glancing through the crowd of faces. Before an exchange of words can be made, he draws an m9 pistol gleaming with silver and aims it towards the protective mother from earlier. No hesitation or delay is made as he pulls the trigger and fires a single round that pierces her cranium. With a thud the body smacks the ground followed by screams.

"Don't move! I'm aware of your 'superior' abilities and 'gifts'. Let me warn you now that any sort or action from this moment on will be answered back with deadly force."

A single one of the few men stepped forward with flamed consumed fists at the ready, but before a second step was taken, another gunshot rings out as is shot dead on the spot with precision. No one else dared make any sort of movement. The lack of further response other than cries indicated the acceptance of their terms. No one stood against the hostile intruders with anything more than expressionless anger. Their leaders weren't present as the protecting team of Liberators were scattered to the four winds on personal affairs while the defending city of Noc Haven was too far to respond in time. They were leaderless and knew that if one of them stood again, no one else stood with them.

"Hmph. Homo-Superior? You mutants disgust me. For too long you have laid claim to your dominance that had been derived from a simple blunder in the genetic code. Pathetic!"

His demeaning words were all too familiar to the congregation. Words that had been regurgitated to them over and over like venom. Another shot from the pistol breaks the silence as the soldiers move forward in unison. Still, no one fought back. The majority of their abilities were passive, or even constructive. Not only was their no way to resist, but there was no one to sway the group to fight as one.

"I'll tell you now."

The cowled leader's own smile can be seen forming under the black fabric that laid over his mouth.

"Your communications have been disrupted to the outside world. All that are functioning is your security cameras, but since they have no way of reaching out….No one will be aware of our presence until after we allow them to. Now then….Everyone grab a shovel."

Noc Haven - 24 hours ago

The Aftermath

"Envy you can't just sit there forever sulking in your own grief."

The words of the female automatous cyborg are blank, robotic, hollow and lack any real anger or agitation behind them. Just another fabricated puppet from Noc Haven's totalitarian government sent to keep eyes on me, ensuring I don't do anything ludicrous to tarnish the Empire's 'good' name. Still, I refuse to move. Fiddling with the crimson helmet on my lap as I carve microscopic incisions onto it's lacker with my talons. My face is cold and emotionless, but this calm demeanor hides a raging storm. It's oncoming destruction simply looms over the horizon that is the Pierce administration.

So many mutants lost without any real purpose behind their sacrifices. They were suppose to be the future. The destiny of humanity as a species that would someday stamp out their sapien predecessors, but instead, they were butchered like livestock being readied for thanksgiving slaughter. The irony. To think that these…Insects. Worms. Genetically inferior maggots can come into my home and harm those that are better than them.

Perhaps it was my own doing though. I gave away the secret of our birthright. Equality is a lie intended to appease the weak. Only the strong survive because only the strong deserve to. I should have been there training them for the oncoming genocide. I could have at least protected them!

Standing with anger in his eyes, Envy begins to lash out in the office in a fit of rage. His vibranium claws tearing the furniture with ease and slashing at the mechanical walls that surrounded him causing sparks to fly off the steel doors and fortifications. The shredding sounds of the metal screeches throughout the nearby halls, causing other mechanized hybrids to shudder.

"I could have done something other than watch from the other side of the world!"

His howling words struck fear in the security personnel that watched him as they slowly and defensively stepped back, unsure of how far the mutant supremacist would go to exert his frustration. His fury went on for some time before he finally relented and saw the hell that he had unleashed in the tiny room. The guards were spared, but nothing else was left untouched. He paused and sighed heavily retracting his claws and brushing his mohawk backwards with a single hand.

"Let's go. Hack into as many national media stations you can. Radio. Television. Internet. I don't care. The ruler of Noc Haven promised me that I would have the ears of the world at my lips for this."

It didn't take long for static to come across the many airwaves that hadn't been blocked off for various reasons before the face of Envy was plastered on the screens of the world and his voice would begin to echo through the speakers of every radio Noc Haven would allow him to. His face wasn't one of anger nor hate, but a simple one that maintained a slight frown. For a few brief moments he simply stared at the camera in sadness before speaking. His black suit that had formed to the contours of his honed and muscular physique did well to reflect the time of mourning. The only colored portion was a simple white rose that had small red stains upon it's petals. Ominous.

"Some of you may or may not know me. Either way it doesn't matter. A horrendous act was perpetrated earlier that fills not only my mind with disgust, but my heart with sorrow. Late yesterday evening, a team of highly trained soldiers equipped with American rifles and uniforms violently and horrifically attacked the unarmed mutant refugee camp lying in the outskirts of Noc Haven. These mutants were not only defenseless and peaceful, but they were women and children seeking to escape European persecution. They were murdered and shot with extreme prejudice by 5.56 nato rounds by uniformed men in American soldier attire. These mutants were left to die in graves that had been dug by their own hands."

Envy paused once again. Gritting his teeth this time and squinting his eyes as a single tear rolled down his cheek. If he were putting up an act, this show might have rivaled that of some oscar nominees. If it wasn't, then perhaps he finally felt compassion in the eyes of others. Lifting his head back up he glared into the camera with his sweat soaked hair falling over his face.

"Say what you will about me and my wrongdoings. Condemn me and those like me for acts perpetrated through self defense. But you should have left those who wanted no part in this battle of species to their own business."

No longer bearing a persona of pain and grief, Envy clenches his jaw and balls his hands together into fists. Stepping closer and closer to the camera that focused in on him, making his figure look intimidating and much larger than usual. His pain wasn't alone. No, he never felt simply sorrow. It was always coupled with another emotion. Hate.

"Just as the United States refused to let the attack of Pearl Harbor go unanswered in World War II….I will refuse to let the beginning of this genocide go unpunished. I will rain down the acid tears of those that you murdered onto your precious White House. The names of those women and children that you so wrongfully stole from the world will be etched upon your political buildings and offices in the blood of those who committed this crime."

His venting anger was derived from so much regret. What if he had been there to stand against the American troops that raided the camps? Would he have defended them as he imagined and saved everyone like he had hoped? Or would he have been another casualty left buried from the massacre and left unavenged? To be honest it didn't matter at this point. He was aware that he was letting his emotions for his species cloud his judgment, hindering his extraordinary mind from performing as tactical and commanding as was his norm.

He had to think carefully the next few steps that must be taken, or his abrasive and threatening words would be just that. Threats spoken from the fangs of a mutant monster that ravaged with hate and spite for the sapiens. The cards he had been dealt were stained with blood, and as much as he thought against it, they needed to be played.

"I warn the people of America now. Leave the federal buildings from which you dwell near. Find shelter away from the plague that your leaders have wrought onto your nation. My quarrel is with those who perpetrated the act of war, and those who ordered it's actions. No harm will come to those that refuse to take up arms against me."

The lies were practically falling from his tongue. Of course he wouldn't hesitate to slice down anyone that stood in his way. The people, regardless of alignment, that stood in the way of his targets were more than just collateral damage. They were a bonus. But he needed the sympathy of mutants that sat teetering on the border of decision and it always helped to play the victim to avoid trouble with outside nations that would rather turn a blind eye.

"And to my brothers and sisters of Homo-Superior. Embrace your gifts and stand with me. This is not an act of revenge, but of justice. The hand that will strike in it's name shall be the hand of a mutant and it will be swift! This is the beginning of their purge, siblings! It starts with a strong armed attack upon the innocent to coerce us into lying down in fear of their weapons that threaten us."

The passion seeping from his words bolsters his own spirit, affirming his belief in the cause. With raised fists and powerful veins pumping along his neck, he reaches down to his feet and grasps something he had never used before. Placing it upon his crown is the red helm he had fiddled with earlier. It's engravings show canine like teeth and pointed ears on its sides, mimicking a demon dog from the ancient tribes of the first mutant settlements in Native America.

"I stand before you, leading this charge. Not as a resident of Noc Haven. Not as a friend of Venezuela. Not as a born citizen of America. But as a proud mutant flying his own flag. Now more than ever, we need to stand together not only as a people, but as a species. Only one question remains. What is the measure of your resolve my siblings?! If this act of terror wasn't enough to anger you. To push you further...Then another question arises. What does it truly mean to be branded Homo-Superior?"

If you asked Envy, he would probably admit that he studied the speeches and public speaking of Stalin, Hitler and JFK.

He nodded is head in pride as the monitors shut off and he was cleared from live news feed. The air in the room was silent, but tense as the androids couldn't fully comprehend what had just occurred and how to react. They had no directives for such an event and stood in place in awe. All except the feminine robot from earlier.

"Mr. Diabolous, you were warned by the High ruling authority of th-"

Her words were cut short as a mixture of oil and blood spurted from her biotic carotid artery. Rushing to apply pressure to the fatal wound, she fell down to her knees as the rapid loss of blood would soon cause her to lose consciousness, then soon enough, her life.

"I don't take orders from you….Machine."

Forces were gathering on both sides of the spectrum. This recent declaration of retaliation from Envy would not be taken lightly by anyone. It was clear to him that the battles at hand would not be to win a war or to kill a few of the other species off. No. It was much larger than that. America had just turned into a massive chess piece that may decide mutant and human relations for decades to come. The time to strike preemptively was now.

American East Coast - Now

Aboard an unnamed sea vessel stands the propagator of war clad in black body armor and a crimson steel canine helmet. A recently obtained ebony katana strapped to his back glistened against the sun. The weapon had complimented Envy's fighting style well, as he found out during his intense training in Venezuela with Ivana's Orochi. The training that had brought him away from Noc Haven and her mutant residents. Away from his duty as their protector.

The static of the communication bud in his helmet broke with the voice of an unknown associate, "We're closing in on New York City, Sir. What are your orders for your allies?"

It took a moment for Envy to digest recent events, but still he calculated the possible outcomes of his retaliation towards the sapien administration. The movements of key players on the chessboard that was America moved in his head. Both on their accord and by his command.

"No orders."

The taloned mutant responded. He had complete confidence that his allies were not only competent enough to make clever and cunning decisions to further their trek towards The White House, but they were also deadly enough to cause as much devastation to the human population based on their personal desires.

"They know the mission. Take New York City and form it into a base of operations. Overwhelm Philadelphia with our stronger forces and turn her into an extension of ourselves. Then, and only then will we march on the barricaded home of our enemies and burn it to ashes."

Aleksei's dreams always begin the same way.

He's sitting in an empty room with a light swinging overhead. It's the only thing visible; there's an unnatural darkness in throughout the area. His hands are bound to the back of the chair. Even though the dream is reminiscent of his time with the Russian government, he's already wearing his visor. It's monitoring his power output, as per usual, but it's telling him he has none available. He tries to summon the energy from within himself to break his simple bonds of rope, but he cannot. He starts to hear screaming coming from outside the room...

At this point, a man will always walk in through a door. He's holding a handgun, playing with it, switching it from hand to hand, cocking and uncocking it. The man is always wearing a nice suit, and he's sometimes smoking a cigar. The only thing that consistently changes about the man is his identity. Sometimes it's the officer that interrogated him after his capture in Moscow all those years ago; other times, one of the scientists who put the all the needles into his arms, and legs, and everywhere else. But tonight, it was the Instructor.

"<You failed, boy. You failed,>" rasped the voice of the man who cared for Aleksei after the incident with his home village. His black eyes twinkled with unnatural malice, an unusual frown behind his beard. "<You were going to save us all. Human, mutant, it wouldn't matter. That was the point. And they were going to learn to love you. To accept you. You would have been the first of the mutant heroes, to be revered by man and super-man alike. And why not? Because you made an error! You ignored my teachings!>" The kind, calm Instructor that he was accustomed to was nowhere to be seen. Now there was just a facsimile, a warped memory of his father figure, gesticulating wildly with the pistol in his anger. "<And now, because of you, my students, my children, are all dead! My only family! Dissected and dishonored because of you!>"

"...Net..."Aleksei would mumble. No.

The old Russian man turned his head in rage, and when he turned it back, it was no longer that of the Instructor. Now it was the Officer. Aleksei had never learned his name, but he remembered his face like no other. He sneered, his ego clearly inflated by his success at capturing three mutants, and killing the rest of the squad. He, unlike the Instructor, was clearly very pleased. He smiled maniacally, poking Aleksei in the forehead with his pistol, laughing wildly.

"<Heh, heh, heh, look at you! Why so sad, kid? You miss your friends? Don't worry about them, they're fantastic! I'm great too! I'm going to be a national celebrity! Maybe they'll let me keep you as a pet!>" He strode around the room, giggling like a demented toddler with a power complex. "<Or, maybe I'll just shoot you! That'll be great!>" The crazed officer's eyes narrowed, his smile widening. He pushed the gun barrel into Aleksei's head, holding it there for a second. Click. He pulled the trigger, and Aleksei winced. But no bullet had come from within the gun.

"<That's right, I forgot to tell you. This isn't a fully loaded gun. It's like a game. Russian roulette. I'm sure you've heard of it. Lets see if your brain looks any different from the others', comrade!>" But he turned away. And when he turned back, it was a different man once more.

Aleksei called him the Director, for he always seemed to be the one in charge. He carried authority with him, be it when he was inspecting the corpses of Aleksei's allies, or prodding him with a needle, or directing the scientists from behind the glass. Aleksei remembered every bit of it.

"<Good afternoon, boy. How are you feeling today? Good? Good. We're going to test your powers again today.>" Even in his dream, Aleksei shivered. The tests. They had held up the bodies of the other mutants, the ones with enhanced durability, and made him shoot them. To see how long they'd last before exploding, that is. "<But that will come later. After all, you will be the greatest weapon Mother Russia has ever possessed! You can bring the world to its knees, my boy. You will bring the world to its knees, all in my name. And you're going to love every moment of it. But first, you're going to need some discipline.>"

It always went the same way after this. The Director somehow ripped Aleksei from the chair, holding him by the neck. He was now unbound, but still for some reason unable to do anything. The Director's hands clenched around his throat, the gun barrel under his chin.

"<Look me in the eyes, boy,>" he'd say, staring into his face, his teeth like needles, his eyes aflame with hate. "<I said look me in the eyes, boy,>" he spat, his fist tightening around Aleksei's neck. But then something changed. Something deviated. His dream didn't go the same way...

"Net. <Look me in the eyes,>" he whispered, somehow free of the Director's grasp. In an instant, his hands were around the Director's neck, holding him an inch from his own face.

And Aleksei looked him in the eyes. Looked, unblinking, with all his power, until the Director had no eyes left.

Three miles high, approaching New York City harbor

Apex stood, arms crossed, in the back of a high speed jet designed explicitly for stealth. Its cloaking capabilities were aided by the pilot, a mutant with the ability to manipulate lightwaves. It was a power that made him ideal for support, rather than frontline combat. Apex smiled. <We all have our parts to play.> His pilot was an American, so he wasn't that easy to converse with. Apex reprimanded himself silently. <No, not American. No Americans, no Russians, no Spanish. Only Mutant.> His grin widened. While they were the most oppressed, it occurred to him that his race was also possibly the most united in their goals.

"Jared. Soon, friend. Soon," he called up to the cockpit in his broken English. Apex was an intelligent man, and thus, he didn't speak much when around people who couldn't understand him. And when he did, it was just enough to get his point across in his mediocre English. He understood the language well enough; it was trying to concoct his own sentences that he had a problem with. To the Russians, he was a charismatic conversationalist, delivering uplifting speeches and concise orders to his legion of mutants. To the Americans, well, he probably looked more like a parody of a Russian speaking English. So be it. It raised spirits around the compound, that was for sure.

"Approaching drop zone, sir. You sure you want to go in alone? We're looking at some heavy artillery down there," Jared yelled back. Apex strode to the front of the plane, standing behind his pilot. He gave a curt nod, smiling and moving to the plane door. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He had been ready for this mission since his escape from that dark, dreary compound back home.

"Ready for drop in 3...2...1...sir, where's your chute?!?"

Aleksei grinned wide, showing all of his teeth.

"No worries, comrade! I no take chute!" With a robust laugh, he leapt from the inside of the plane, his body spiraling downwards towards New York City. The organizer of this quest for vengeance was aboard a ship in the bay; Apex would give them the clearance they'd need to land.

He turned in midair, flexing his muscles until he had the appropriate trajectory. He was approaching terminal velocity, the wind ripping at his form as he continued to fall towards the city below. His visor tinted everything red as he approached the gleaming spires that were the legendary skyscrapers of New York.

With his mutant eyesight, he spotted those that were fortifying the harbor in a vain effort to prevent the Mutants from entering the city that way. They would be the first to fall today...after Aleksei's literal fall, of course. His smile grew wider as the ground grew nearer...

Skttttch. He crouched, legs bent to absorb the impact, one palm on the ground. Within a microsecond of the moment his feet touched the pavement, his powers had activated, absorbing the energy of his forceful impact against the black pavement. Red energy surged from his legs, into the ground, and finally back up into his palm. Pure power in the form of the kinetic energy from his fall, converted into something he could project through his eyes. His own mutant abilities never ceased to amaze him.

He watched the soldiers turn, their mouths agape in shock. They would undoubtedly have been briefed on him, considering his vast reputation in Russia, but no amount of instruction would be able to prepare them for what would come next. They raised their rifles, bullets spewing from the barrels. Rockets hastily fired from launchers spiraled towards the Alpha Mutant, who merely strode towards the line of American troops. Bullets ricocheted from his skin, their energy transferred directly into his cells. Rockets exploded against his chest, the heat and the impacts being collects by his mutant tissues. He laughed triumphantly, listening to the cries of fear and desperation of the men who were attempting to stop his march. Bullet casings littered the streets, and debris was everywhere. Nothing was unscathed but Aleksei.

<And now the 'coup de grace,' as the French would say.>

From within the X-shaped visor of his face came a bright red beam of pure power, tearing through the American front line. He yelled a battle cry as the crimson energy ripped through tanks, infantry, and defensive fortifications. And within a minute, it was done.

"Apex to Envy. S'done. Harbor is clear," he spoke slowly into his communicator. "Let us show them pain, comrade."

@_envy_:

Solaris floated down out of the sky between the forces approaching New York and the city it self, the first hero on the scene and the only one currently standing between them and their objective. The still little known hero looked...disappointed. Her eyes blazed like twin stars in the sky, the only sign of the barely contained energy that resided within her humanoid shell.

"If you please turn back I will investigate the matter, with your assistance and bring proper justice to the people involved. If you continue and put military forces on the ground you will be endangering the lives of innocent individuals and I will be forced to act against you." She said simply. She held her hands out at her sides to indicate she was not taking an offensive posture...yet.

Solaris had spent much of her time since her arrival organizing her own plans and setting up her own base of operations. She had not been terribly active in events of the last year and no one really knew anything about her. Intelligence files were empty, her power set was entirely unknown.

"I think the massacre is an awful tragedy and the people who committed must be brought to justice, true and pure justice." She motioned to the city. "Military activity in a major city helps no one, people will die, people who had nothing to do with the unlawful mass murder. If you continue, you are no better than the people who offended you."

Please stop here. Don't make me fight you...I've seen this all before. These guys attack those guys, those guys attack these guys...and the whole world burns in unending fire in the name of 'justice.' If they chose to take the actions she was almost certain they would take it would break her heart.

His name, before his days as the Fourth Horseman, before the Brahma Bull, before Strigidae Zero, he was known only as صفر. Forgotten tales in ancient Strigidae folklore told of a monstrous behemoth of a warrior, one whose strength, cold heart and lack of empathy made for the perfect warrior. It told of the Brahma Bull before the Brahma Bull, a killing machine that saw only red before its eyes. Empathy however, was there, concealed behind the most radical of evolutionary ideologies. That humanity was a cancer. A cancer that had no place in his world. And the Brahma Bull, the infamous Gothic City Nightmare had long ago vowed that he would cleanse the world of the diseased strain of humanity.

There was one who had attempted to stop him, Strigidae 100. But it was in vain. Death could not contain him. The devil wanted nothing to do with him. And so as he marched through Hell, its skies burning and its air colder than ice, the Brahma Bull cared not for the decaying kingdom of demons. The metallic scent of blood that washed over the undead thralls and tortured souls that roamed all about was all too familiar. He had reacquired his powers as Death, the Fourth Horseman. The terror of Hell told in archaic religious texts paled in comparison to the carnage that the Gothic City Nightmare unleashed upon the demon brethren that opposed him. He ripped out their throats with his teeth, and gorged on their steaming, black blood with hungry, bestial snarls. He laughed murderously as he plucked out the eyes of his terrified, wailing opposition, their tortured cries hanging in the air like a force of nature.

He strode forward, drenched in blood and lit by the lurid glow of the encompassing hellfire. Where the Brahma Bull walked, death followed. His taste for blood and domination would never be sated, not until he has purged the world of the foulest of hominids, of the genetic degenerates; humans. Until his vision was realized, no matter how many times he was 'killed', he would always return as a force of strife and misery. As more demons challenged his march towards the gates of Hell, he wiped all away in a red mist, a rolling fog of crimson erasing everyone and everything that dared oppose him as he laughed heartily at the screams and cries of those doomed to 'stop' him. "The mutant ideal", the prominent, almost monstrous bass of his voice growled, threatening to break the gates apart, "Is not social mythology". Breaking the gates open, he stepped forward. Many spoke of there being no escape from death. There was no escape from the Brahma Bull.

Not even death could hold him. Because he was an idea. He could not be killed. He could only become immortal. He had marched to the gates of Hell smiling as his infamous mask burned itself onto his face while his black, militaristic adornments hugged his hulking, eight foot tall frame. The end of humanity would be a violent one, that he promised. In a flash, the Brahma Bull's spiritual asylum was no more. No longer was he in the depths of Hell. Now he stood in the streets of New York as time froze, the air suspending itself all about him in fear and disbelief of his return. Conjuring towering walls of searing, black hellfire that burned the oxygen away, the Brahma Bull sought to set the streets ablaze and eradicate all who stood before him and his mutant brethren. His death was nothing more than the next step of spiritual evolution. "God has reincarnated me as revolution".

@brahma_bull:

Victoria was a citizen of Noc Haven, apart of the cybernetic side of the community. She faced some issues for not being a mutant but she'd often made up for it. She'd been one to help the camps on the outskirts. She'd been manipulated into a menace of mutants as a child. It was times like those at the camps she felt she made up for her faults. Sonar had even been a friend of hers, she'd helped the young mutant learn to master her abilities. Victoria sought to train her so that her skills might buy entry into Noc Haven. For a gifted mutant was a welcome mutant. The empire could use someone as bright as Sonar.

Now Victoria was laying the girl to rest in a grave. She dug the hole, she carried the body from the mass grave. All about the cyborg was other mutants cyborgs and robots doing the same. Trying to give the dead some hint of peace. "We ought to rip them apart." "F*ck the states for what they've done." "I remember this kid all he wanted to do was meet Allegiance." "All she wanted to do was craft a weapon for the Shogun." "He would of done anything to make a garden of Eden for all races" words like these were all that could be heard. Only two feelings resided, wrath or regret.

After she'd done what she could Victoria bought a flight over to New York. She knew what was going to happen, somebody would retaliate, would take action. Her hypothesis was proven when the tv on the plane stopped mid movie to show Envy. There wasn't time to dwell on his words she had to start preparing for what was to come. Her laptop being pulled out as she began to refresh data to be as optimal as possible for the fight she knew to be coming. From then to the time she stood armored on a building was all a wash of data and preparation.

What she hadn't planned for was the sudden arisal of obsidian flames that scorched all in their wake in an instant. The Bull had returned, he'd been thought gone sure enough the terror of Gothic wouldn't stay down. Victoria knew her odds almost allready, this could very well be her end. She was always calm and easygoing because she'd admitted her end might come early on. She also realized more so then others though the reality of the situation. Many individuals this night would begin with some speech or monologue for one side or the other.

It was pointless to try and be diplomatic now lines were drawn. And it was even more futile to try and talk to the sudden arival of the fear monger and his devilish masked features. Victoria started by ordering her small drone to dispense a variety of mines attempting to incircle the Bull in swiftly dropped explosives. Be they surrounding, near or no where close however one thing was certain the pattern was overlapping. Leaping over the searing flames her various thrusters allowing her to overcome the night the Lioness took aim at one of the mines. One shot all it took to lead to a sequence of detonations. Getting close to the Bull wasn't wise his past fights had shown that, she'd attempt to stick to range. Her arm cannon raised and readied to fire she set the weapon to swap rounds each shot. It's standard explosive rounds that rivaled if not surpassed a quality plasma grenade, fired at a velocity more befitting of a high powered rifle then a grenade launcher. The other round was cryogenic designed to freeze on impact. Targeting wise she aimed for two to the chest and one to the head in three consecutive bursts.

1 Week Ago

Noc Haven, a holy land for mutants. Holy land might be an exaggeration, but it is one of the few places mutantkind is not attacked for being who they are. It is not perfect, yet it is home to many including the elderly mutant known as Induction. The mutant's aged face is hidden from all by a metallic mask. It is so nobody can see the loss he carries with him in his eyes.

Induction was walking through the mutant camp, preparing to leave Noc Haven for a week or so for a mission. As he walked through the small little community he felt a presence following him. "Strange, I would usually be able to pinpoint if somebody were follo-" his thought was cut short.

"Uncle Induction!"

A blue child jumped at the electricity controlling mutant. Induction turned around and caught the boy. The two began to laugh.

"I must be getting old! You finally managed to sneak up on me! I've got to put you down now James. My back is not what it used to be".

Induction was seen by most in the mutant camp as a grandfather like figure, offering advice when he could and spending time with the younger generation of mutants. He especially spent a lot of time with James, whose father left him and his mother. To James the elderly mutant was like an uncle.

"It is good to see you Uncle Induction!"

"And it is good to see you James. How is everything going?"

James began to go on and on about the games he and the kids in the community played. He talked about how they played tag the other day and he never got taged once. The boy was very proud of his accomplishment and so was Induction. It started to get late and Induction needed to go so he hugged James and said, "I have to go now James, but I will be back soon. So take care of your mother and be good".

The boy smiled and said,"I will!"

They waved goodbye to each other, as Induction walked away from the sunset to go on his important mission. As the old mutant waved at James he noticed his old sandals. "Perhaps I should get the boy new shoes", he thought to himself.

24 Hours Ago

The night before Induction could not sleep. He had that dream again. The one where he saw his brother's burning body. The flames consumed his entire body, but he made no noise and remained extremely calm. Everybody around him screamed and panicked, but Induction's brother remained eerily calm. Luckily, though, it was just a dream and all that death was behind him.

Induction had just come back to Noc Haven, but something seemed off. There seemed to be no mutant life in the area besides the old conductor of electricity. In his hand he carried a box holding shoes for young James. As he got closer to James and his mother's house he found something truly horrific. He found James's mother dead on the ground. In shock the old mutant dropped the box and the pair of shoes flew out onto the ground.

He ran over to the body to check how she died. A bullet went through her head. Even if she received immediate medical attention she would not have survived. He quietly mourned his friend's death. It was a notion he was used to by now.

Induction then ran to James's house making sure he was okay. The door was broken down and there was no sign of life. The old mutant panicked and ran around the camp to find anybody else and eventually did. He found them all dead in a ditch. On the top layer of bodies was James, bloody and dead. Rigor mortis had already taken affect and his body was cold...cold...cold...cold...

The aged mutant fell to the ground in sorrow and rage. He remained eerily quite much like his brother.

Now In New York

The day moved on in New York like it normally did, despite there being a genocide two days ago. A man rushed down to his office to make sure he was not late for work. A newspaper vender paid no attention to his customers and focused on the tabloid he was reading. There were protesters marching around a building, yelling about how the system is broke. A homeless man slept in the street.

Near a street corner a man heavily dressed stood still. His face was hidden and nobody paid any mind to him. They all thought he was one of those 'crazies'. Small bits of metallic objects flew towards the man. Coins, paper clips, and the like. A cop ran out of his car and tried to pull out his gun, but it too flew to the heavily dressed man.

Induction took off the clothing hiding his masked face and unleashed a electrical blast through the crowd. Their flesh burned and exploded, but the elderly mutant only stood there silently.

"This is for my fallen brethren".

It all begins with hate.

Infect the people with hate, bring them to their knees, make them worship that hate. It becomes their ethos. It becomes infused in their blood, dripping with a malignant poison only death can appease. Burn them. Kill them. Hate them. Only now have we seen the devastating results of it all. Only now can we truly comprehend the cruelty of man, and see that it is all happening again. We are alone in this. We cannot see the end of the tunnel through the stifling confusion and hopelessness.

But that is the root of hate. It seeds in the absence of hope, where nothing else can grow. Its most powerful source of energy is fear. Derive a source of hate from fear, and the people will flock to you, absorbed in that same fear. And then the slaughter can begin outright. The initial surge is small, a gradual taste of the coastline from the deep dark sea. But the tremors grow inside of the behemoth. Cogs are turning in its mind, the grand design making itself all too clear. A tsunami erupts and soon millions are dead, all victims in the winds carrying nothing but the sting of hate and the bitterness of remorse once the truth is revealed in the empty neighborhoods and broken homes.

The city is quiet. Smoke is rising in the distance.

Another train is bound for the hills.

That was more than seventy years ago.

---

I have no right to be here. It doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense.

To the world at large, Trevor Roosevelt seemed your ordinary unimpressive homeless man. Wearing nothing but rain-soaked rags and tattered shoes, he huddled in the corner of an alleyway in Manhattan. The skyscrapers above him blocked out the clouds. Sometimes he wished he could just float away, but he always reminded himself he would still be a drifter and a witness. As long as he still lived on this Earth, he would be a witness. The tragedies never stopped nowadays.

You could read new articles every single day about the atrocities happening around the world. It never seems to get any better. War, famine, disease, and now...the terror of a new genocide started to appear on the horizon. Of course, not many people took it into consideration. They, and their children, were all human. Mutants were the only ones being watched. Monitored. Families with mutants either as parents or children had to be especially careful. Hide them away until this all blows over. Have a nice, quiet movie night with some popcorn. By the morning, everything would be back to normal.

By morning all of this would be over, and we can go out in public again.

Trevor was contacted the day of the incident by a confidential observer watching his movements on a monitor similar to the United States Armed Forces. At any second, Trevor could become the most dangerous weapon in the world. If the military couldn't control him, then someone else would. Or at least that is what they all thought. Everyone wanted to control him. After all, that's a derivative of hate. It's one of the major building blocks of establishing a regime, and of maintaining a cruel order over those undesirables hiding in the shadows. Everyone's building empires these days. Everyone's establishing control, surrounding themselves with confidants and bodyguards.

It would take approximately thirty minutes for the scanners the United States Armed Forces to reset after the cold blackout. And yet, Trevor remained quiet. Alone. Once they discovered he was in the middle of Manhattan, and that he had become...unsettled, then all hell would break loose.

Still, he had not come to a solid conclusion.

If he struck out now, in the name of a mutant uprising, then countless lives would be lost. Human. Mutant. Half-mutant. Everything would be gone. Mutants devoted to peace. Humans professing their love for a mutant mate in the streets. The riots. It would be for nothing. It sickened him how easily he could turn all the progress for coexistence and throw it all on the floor. He breathed deeply. Meditation was key. Small breaths. In, out. In, out. Count to three.

This is your first week without incident.

And it's about to be for absolutely nothing.

I don't want to do this. You have to; for the good of mutantkind. What good is it to mutantkind if all we are to humanity is a bunch of monsters killing humans? Are we looking for a reason to kill them now? We're not dogs looking for scraps! We're people, damn it! We're people...

If you do not move, then mutantkind and humanity will always be at odds. Genocide cannot be met with peace rallies. War cannot be conquered with love.

A wise man once said something different; someone wiser than you.

And what was his name?

Marty Roosevelt - my father.

---

Running out of time.

Heart rate increasing. Have you come to a decision or not? Are you just going to watch all of this transpire? Mutants are about to murder millions of innocent people for a crime they were not involved in, all for the concept of fair trade. An eye for an eye. Blood for blood. Children for children. The clouds have already broken. You're the earthquake following the thunderbolt.

Move.

Move, damn it.

Are you going to fight for the mutants who have given you a home, and a life? Or for the humans, who loved you first and taught you values?

It's more difficult than just black and white politics, isn't it? There are no good or bad people here. It's all just a mess. Just a huge Goddamned mess. The scanners have come back online. They can see you now. Your thirty minutes is up, Trevor Roosevelt. Any minute now, they'll be hunting for you. Depending on what you do next, they'll either send in squads with tranq rifles...

Or battalions of armored tanks.

Are you seriously going to involve that many people again? This is already a huge mistake waiting to happen. Why didn't you just stay in Arizona? At least there, nobody was around to be hurt by your idiocy. Your anger.

The monster you hide inside. He's waiting to come out. Just let him. Become an icon of destruction like you were always destined to be, since the explosion didn't kill you. An unnatural mistake. A mutant. Now, turned into the Behemoth. Many believe the End Times are upon us thanks to you. Just die.

Trevor held his head in his hands. It was happening. Something burst inside his chest, and again, and again.

His heartbeats were becoming louder, now like gunshots in his sternum. His eardrums were in agony.

"No, not now, just five more minutes..."

But his plea went unanswered. The transformation already started. He gritted his teeth, trying to contain it, trying to fight back the pain. His entire body started to forcibly grow. Bones extending, flesh inflating, and skin stretching. The compounded adrenaline rush from all of this happening at once affected his already strained heart. He leaned forward, curling into a ball. People stopped and called an ambulance, fearing a heart attack. He kept to himself, trying to squeeze out the words he wanted to scream.

Go away, leave me alone! Please!

Too late. His eyes ripped open, their normally brown complexion now a horrendous green. Observers only saw a flash of jade as the homeless man disappeared, bounding across the street on fistfuls of metropolitan concrete and steel. His clothes were left behind, shredded, all except for anything that would have resembled pants.

That is when the air raid sirens started to go off. A harsh thump cracked in the distance. The front door to New York was just torn open in a cacophony of red.

---

Good for someone. Good for someone else. Good for everyone, except a few. Good for your family. Neighbors. Friends. Yourself.

We try to touch as many lives as we can, if not out of kindness then out of maliciousness. Just as evil can be found in the most obscure and terrifying places, so too can kindness exist outside of its typical forms. We all think that evil cannot touch us, but when it does, we can never look at the world the same way again. Horrendous murders are remembered in newspapers, on the Internet, and once the funerals are held, the criminal executed, those affected are left behind to think. To blame. To move on. To them, justice has been done.

But justice has not been carried out for some in this growing war. Patriots like Allegiance have gone missing. Revolutionary minds such as Formicidae will never return. But monsters like Warsman and Doom are still around, and worse yet - they are prospering.

Perhaps now it is time for the world of heroes to take a page from the world of monsters.

Hulk stood at the edge of the docks, the echoes of a truly substantial roar still lingering in the air as the flocks of people drawn to the event scattered in a blind panic, away from the site. The United States Armed Forces would be here soon, with the heavy hammer of the HULK Corps being their forerunner. General Abraham "Thunderbolt" Lannister would be responsible for evacuating the area. For now, Hulk has just positioned himself in the middle of the two natural enemies of the world.

Humanity.

And mutants.

He once swore complete servitude to the mutant leaders, but now deviated from his primary objective. He purposely achieved his monstrous state of being in order to attract Lannister, knowing the General would do everything in his power to make sure those in directly endangered zones to be safe and those outside to be evacuated. From this point on, Hulk had chosen an unidentified third party in the growing war.

And as the most dangerous weapon on the planet, this suited him just fine.

No one would control him anymore.

No more innocent lives would be lost if he had a say in the matter.

With one last deafening note of defiance, defiance in the face of everything, he charged into the fray.

@induction_:

Solar Hawk and Luna Hawk approached the man just moments after he exploded humans in a crowd with an electrical blast, Solar Hawk had her mace in one hand and Luna Hawk was quietly putting a magazine into a heavy duty assault rifle.

"We would have remained neutral in this conflict if you would have left the civilians alone." Luna Hawk said, chambering a round. "I understand how you feel, I do, but this is not the way. These people didn't kill the mutants at Noc Haven, these are civilians. You want to go after the military, neither one of us will get in your way, but no..." She sighed. "You had to do this. Next you'll say it was in the name of Justice. Genocide is wrong, regardless of the reason and regardless of the perpetrator. The civilians of this city are under our protection."

"In case you're wondering." Solar Hawk chimed in. "Our weapons, armor and materials are constructed of Nth Metal, a non-magnetic metal" Just in case though, their weapons were strapped to their arms rather firmly. "Because you're upset, we'll give you this opportunity to redirect your attention to the military. If you don't, we'll be forced to intervene."

I've been gone for a long time. A long time. The world is a fickle place. Humans, opinion, perceptions. One minute the public may hate me. The next, they may love me.

It only takes a single event to change any opinion, a single, well timed display of either heroic virtue or harrowing terrorism to shock or shape the world. People are born with a gift. Sometimes more. But always a single gift which can outshine the others, if only subtly.

Most presume my own gift is engineering, science and technology. Shiny things. Things which are easy to distract with. Because that's all they are. Distractions. A shiny sparkling suit of metal which diverts the attention away from my true gift.

Manipulation.

Some people are just good at it. It comes naturally. As easy as tying a shoelace or speaking your name. You can see it in their eyes and see what makes them tick, or what words you must say to shape reality. Or sometimes, it doesn't come easy. Sometimes even I can't manipulation a person with tricks, psychological deception and misdirection, sometimes you must act, put yourself in harms way to engineer a desired outcome.

Sometimes you have to die.

Sometimes you have to kidnap a mothers child, and incur her wrath.

Mercy Sheridan allowed me to escape planet Earth. Her child was my leverage of which I used to pry open her secured mind and unleash her unbridled rage. Women. Ha. Predictable.

Today I do it once again, I come back from the land of the dead.

With a shiny suit of armor which whizzes and shoots sparkling lasers. I put myself in harms way.

And the cycle continues. Again, and again. Rinse, and repeat.

Because that is what I do, and that is what I'll always do.

From the planes of a world untouched by the soiling hand of man, Satar watched as events unfolded. There was always a peculiar charm, an unknowable charisma about the human race. Perhaps it was its cultural diversity or desire to explore and discover the wonders of this world and the others. For Satar, a Marid Djinn born thousands of years ago, it was not unlike observing a starry eyed toddler filled with wonderment and excitement, one who had just learned how to walk and could not wait to explore. But underneath these positive traits, humanity struggled with a long and tireless history, smothered by ages of warfare and bloody disputes. According to one of many creation myths in ancient human folklore, humanity was one of the first living things to walk the land.

While known to be nothing more than a fable, the tale teaches a lesson; that whatever place humanity once had in the world, they have now lost. Though humanity remained a great and inspired people, one of their greatest blemishes was their inability to accept that others were different. That genetic variations would have some be different from others. Different skin colors, hair textures, disabilities, and now, the presence or absence of an X-Gene. Those considered 'normal' had always met the different with hostility, and in their interactions, an irreparable relationship was forged that to this day demands bloodshed. A trend that the Djinn Dragon had watched for many years and did nothing but pray from a distance, hoping that whichever path humanity took, it would be the one with the least amount of bloodshed.

It was unfortunate that his dream was not realized. With the rise of the Arcani, the Brahma Bull, and now the Shogunate as prominent mutant icons controversially deemed 'terrorists', and the emergence of anti-mutant sentiments and laws in the United States by President Clarice coupled with the mass killings credited to infamous human supremacist Charlemagne LeBeau, tension could not have been more prominent than it was now. The attack on New York however, had finally prompted the Smokeless Scimitar's direct involvement. He did not believe the X-Gene to be a genetic cancer as the majority of humanity describes, nor did he believe that the extraordinary abilities afforded to mutant-kind by their X-Genes warranted any justifiable feeling of superiority on their part. His mind was in deep thought as his meditation in a fiery, scorching inferno had come to an end. "May my soul be forgiven for the lives I will end today".

--An attosecond afterwards--

The sky was nearly red from the flames of war that raged all about the Big Apple. For a moment, as brief as it was, all of the particles in the surrounding air froze, the oxygen and nitrogen all about was suspended in time, waiting in anticipation of the Keijijo Djinn's ingress. Soon the flow of time had returned as a figure emerged from a pool of dynamic supernatural energies to stand on a desolate rooftop. The portal dissipated and fragrant dust was left as its only remnants. Hugging Satar's lean, sculpted frame was a black gi and complimenting hakama festooned with gold highlights that cast an aura of Japanese regalia and highborn status. Meanwhile the dual white scarves trailing behind his shoulders fluttered in the wind.

Traditional, aesthetic markings and prints were mottled around his body. They were artistic and visually engrossing, harboring a certain mystique that projected greater magnetism than the Djinn's chiseled, comely features. "It has begun", he remarked, his voice cool, their notes smooth, yet underneath lied sorrow and concern. Maintaining a stoic, earnest visage, he darted off into the distance, intent on opposing the city's assault by the rampaging mutant radicals that sought to claim it.

@anthony_stark:

A Clash of Titans

Apex flexed his muscles, testing the current limits of his body's energy capacity. As adrenaline coursed through his veins, his visor informed him that his body's maximum potential energy ceiling was rising. The more intense the fight became, the more powerful he would become. He was at about 85% capacity right now, and still growing. <Perfect,> he thought. With this level of power, he would afford himself a decent buffer zone between the dangerous 100% and over, while still having enough energy to blast away anything that came into his line of sight.

Speaking of...

He looked up as a highly reflective object soared through the air, sunlight glinting off the sides. He strained with his enhanced vision, squinting at what he determined to be a man in a flying suit. He flew with a purpose, advancing towards their disembarking forces with uncanny speed. Cocking his head to the side, Aleksei remembered another such armored being who had been reportedly killed by a mutant...ne with no idea of subtlety, either. The disco-ball like piece of futuristic technology fit the bill. If it was indeed Stark, he'd love the irony of killing him. <Escape one mutant, fall to another...yes. Good afternoon, Mister Ex-President,> he thought, his eyes following the shiny metal man like a marksman lining up a target. "<This is Apex to all forces. I am going to engage an enemy captain. None are to aid me. Focus your efforts elsewhere,>" he commanded in Russian. After a moment of consideration for the English-speaking forces on their side, he added "No helping me. Help the others." Having delivered his orders, he returned his focus to the being currently en route to their location, sparkling like a diamond in the midst of a fire.

In mere microseconds, a beam of intense concussive force shot from the X-shaped visor on Apex's face directly at the technological marvel he targeted, his advanced subconscious calculating speed, trajectory, and force all without him even needing to think about it. The beam itself contained the same forces found in the storm of bullets, rockets, and grenades that had greeted the Alpha Mutant following his landing in the city, affording it an interesting configuration of both heat and force at the same time. The glowing red particle field that made up this unique beam could, in theory, punch a hole directly through reinforced vibranium, given that the unique energy configuration (switching to heat, force, light, and back again within picoseconds) made it incredibly unstable. He smiled as the beam left his eyes, anticipating a real challenge for his power...

@jack_: @_envy_

Solaris lowered her head a little when the response to her request was to keep on invading. Alright. Plan B. "You should have turned around." She said.

The energy of a radiant star began to flow around her hands and body as she prepared to launch her defense of the civilians of the United States and the intense anger and disappoint she felt became abundantly obvious.

When Solaris attacked she did so with coruscating beams of energy so intense as to dwarf the output of Earth's local star. The beams shot from her hands and sliced through landing craft by the dozen, cutting through their rear compartments and engines like a laser through butter. The result was sinking ships that stranded their troops in the water to far out from the shoreline to swim in easily. She took care not to kill anyone, but there was no question that her strikes would obliterate any person they came across if she were careless. Even looking at the beams could cause retinal damage as each one was essentially a focused solar flare from a star that was far more powerful than Sol.

Unchallenged, Solaris would eat through the assembled fleet in minutes.

9 minutes and 27 seconds after the Broadcast.
Deep beneath the M.A.M.A. complex.

The heavy elastic thud of rubber echoes through the reinforced steel doors on the end of the corridor. Each thud monotonic never missing a beat, it's frequency never wavers nor does the strength of the impact. However, this noise is soon joined by another the dual clap of boots striding towards the same door in urgency that was uncommon for the lowest level of M.A.M.A.'s underground prison complex.

"Sir, is he?---you know...", the shaky voice of a well-grommed lieutenant fizzes out into the vicinity. So frail it was barely heard by his superior.

"Officially, you do not have the clearance or the need to know...But yes, lieutenant. As much as I'd love to disprove you, he is very real...", the general answers in a serious tone but holds off the end of his speech. He could not deny the existence of one of the most competent killers on the face of the Earth. A veteran of wars too ugly to ever see the light of the day and an operative of missions too dangerous for the usual cape.

The pair stops by the metal door in the far end of the corridor. It was plain and without any openings, except for a tiny window embedded at around head level, just big enough to let nutrient paste through and to hold a conversation. The lieutenant slides the panel covering the window and steps aside before his superior steps in his place. Suddenly the bouncing noise cuts off from behind the door

"...the Cesare.", general Harp adds as the first light rays in many months set on the skin of the prisoner, sitting in eerily by the cold side of his cell. In his hand he held a luminescent green tennis ball, the source of the odd noise.

The prisoner grins as if in expectation of the events that would unfold. "Well...let's be on our way then, shall we? I know you too well Harp, you ain't the one who called for me. Take me upstairs.", Frank demands in an arrogant tone unfit for a convict sitting several miles beneath the face of the Earth with nothing to do for the next few centuries.

The now frowning general has no other options but to comply and after propertly restraining him, the trio set out on their way to the upper levels of the agency.

An hour later.
M.A.M.A.'s Briefing room.

Eagerly sitting around a large conference table were the twelve military leaders of M.A.M.A. Men and women, whose identity was kept a secret from the president, the CIA and even from each other. The few whom could wipe away countries with but a word, now sitting in hopeless pause and waiting for one of the world's greatest murderers, but not for his brawn rather for his brains. And in there he comes in the company of armed handlers. His slow stroll aided with the rattle of tungsten-steel leg, arm and neck cuffs. The Dog of War stops by one end of the table and immediately the council's eyes focus on him.

"Mr. Scaletta thank you for your presence, now let's get to why you're here. As you may not kn-", he impatient councilman sitting by the other end of the table springs to brief him of the recent events that led to Frank's recall from the depths of the complex. However, he is quickly cut off by the restrained convict.

"I don't give a rats a** about what you limpd!cks want...", Frank overshadows the councilman with the sheer bass of his voice as he lifts his head to meet the confused looks of the council. He was never the one for orders, even less for those coming from a man who never fought himself. "...I'm here for work. And I've already been briefed by general Harp about the Noc Haven broadcast."

"Very well. What is your advice?", a female council member inquires.

"Advice?...", he asks in return with a sly smirk curling on his face. He was past advice. Immediately after being briefed about the enemy forces his brilliant strategy mind forged counter-measures against every single one of them. His mind was like a supercomputer regarding warfare. "...I advise you to transfer immediate command over the New York forces to me."

The brief chit-chat of the council members comes to a conclusion and the same female speaks again."Done. You will lead our forces in New York. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Uh...I request that you to activate 'Darwin's Guillotine' protocols.", Frank adds with a slightly more professional tone.

"That's classified intel how do you--?"

NEW YORK City.
Now.

The Militant Maestro swaggers into the deserted top floor of New York's office building, followed by his canine companion. Now completely clad in black fatigues, carbonadium weave vest and matching knee and elbow guards. The allotrope of the miraculous metal rivaled even the likes of Vibranium or Adamantine in sheer durability, yet offered none of their hinderance. But what was more important he was finally reunited with his gear.

"Eagle Eye? This is Cesare. What's the status?", Frank reaches into his ear to activate the com-link between him and the airborne command platform as he nears the balcony window overseeing the harbour. Meanwhile the special teams spread throughout the chaos like wildfire on a hot summer afternoon. Soldiers who've been training for this cause ever since the Bedlam Incident.

"Clusterf*&k, sir.", a young nameless voice responds quickly and with as much humor as he could gather facing the situation athand. The deafening sound of keyboards and other com-officers almost could be heard in the background as he spoke.

"*sigh* No sh!t. Now shove that happy attitude down your recent graduate a** and gimme some f*&kin' details.", Frank angrily demands. If there was anything he took seriously it was warfare. He fought in wars, the media never even knew of and he had to keep minimum radio contact. But this was different. He was no longer a lone wolf, but a leader of the pack...and he wouldn't let a snarky kid be the death of millions.

"Sir, yes sir.", the young comm-officer replies. Now with more seriousness in his words. "We have over four hundred confirmed tangoes in the city and mainly in the harbour, Sir. Among them Aleksei Smirnov (@jack_) engaging @anthony_stark, Induction (@induction_) engaging @solarhawk, their assumed leader Envy Diabolous (@_envy_) and...", the young soldier stops in his overview and gulps.

"What? If you want to keep earnin' the money I suggest you answer, now.", more and more the comm-officer provided himself a nuisance than help.

"...@brahma_bull, Sir. B-But He's fighting someone (@lioness_)."

"Well...f*&k. I'm sure happy someone is crazier than us to stand up to the big f*&ker. Anyway. Dispatch a back-up team to evac the civs from site of their battle." It's not of often that Frank has to adjust a plan, but the variables are the essence of war. Like a seasoned leader he quickly adjusts to the shift and calmly orders his brothers-in-arms into action.

"Remind the Team R in Induction's vicinity to flank with rubber rounds then ice that f*&ker with the real deal if the cape doesn't talk some sense into him. Meanwhile focus on civ-evac.", Team R being a small unit of 12 soldiers called in as part of 'Darwin's Guillotine'. The new Cape-Killers, they are the tough cookie for any meta to chew on. Due to their small number they use guerilla tactics. However, they are more than equiped for the job with plastic rifles, rubber rounds and carbon-ceramic armor for protection and mobility.

"Proceed with the civ-evac of the war zones and call the pawns to the end of the harbour. Spread thin. It's no use fightin' the muties head on, they win in raw power, just pick them off one by one on our terms. Steadily, every missed mutie in the harbour is a dead family in the streets. Whatever happens don't let them into the city."

Over the next few minutes the end of the desolate harbour comes to house several dozen trained soldiers armed with standard issue assault rifles and grenades, each carefully hidden from view in rubble but even in the containers laying on both sides of the harbour. They create a choke-point to hold of the opposition and wait for the right moment to strike; a moment when the extremist mob walks within into their trap. Then they will open fire to quickly suppress as much of the threat as possible within the moment of surprise.

Azra was one of the first to touch the shores as the assault began ships began to be struck. Peaceful retaliation, the crimson knight scoffed at such. With a thought she reached out to her people, told the various mutants with particular abilities to react. Any one who could make a construct be it through TK or ice or sound or anything else did so. A sudden surge of solutions to the issue from the star.

That was the dreaded fact everyone seemed to forget about mutants. With proper command and organization they showed to be able to handle almost anything. An army of mutants meant an army of abilities. It ment hundreds of options at any given moment. Azra knew in this fight order was scarce they were to angry to be flawless. In coming battles though as hate slowed down to a more containable wrath she look forward to exploiting that fact. For now the Elite moved toward an airport, steeling herself for what she soon would do. Another act to state why mutants were rightly feared.

Nuclear weapons are secretive nobody wants the information getting out in it's entirety. But mutants could have such disastrous weapons regardless, Azra no exception. She possessed the nuclear weapons as a genetic marker. One of the most dreaded weapons ever crafted by man and she simply was one. She headed for an airport somewhat regretting what she was about to do. Every action from the genocide forward would be fuel for a war. Many were going to die on both sides, it wasn't just. War wasn't justice disaster responded by disaster one had to simply take solace in the goal. Acts of war and revenge Azrayne took comfort in simply for the hope of liberated mutants in the future. She was a Liberator, freedom wasn't free and though it weighed heavily on her the nuclear duchess would see those freedoms found regardless of the cost.

Securing a pillar the blades of hers swiftly carved a memorial. "Nobody here deserved what happened, targeted only for the price of war. Race shouldn't matter, sense it does pray for those who were lost and those who lost loved ones. Preferably on both sides." The words were not much even still it helped the crimson knight a sense of comfort. This started with a mass murder, it was tragic. To answer it with more murder was a disaster, sadly many said events had happened to mutants. Jade eyes closed embracing the act of revenge preparing for what was about to happen.

Millions move through airports of NYC over the year. Meaning thousands to tens of thousands pass through the facilities every day. It was abrupt as the doors suddenly sealed, not opening locking some in and some outside. Panic soon followed after some scrambled for cover others sought to hide. People were trampling eachother to escape others however stopped in their tracks as a bright light began to appear in the airport. It's intensity blinding bodies started to ignite just for being close.

Maybe someone was in the airport to stop it. Perhaps somebody had prepared for this. It wasn't likely however, and if they were not able to stop it the resolution was guaranteed. Only fractions of a second was available to stop something hard to aproach and one had to be inside the airport to do so. What was a light was in fact nuclear fission it would detonate in a blossoming composition of beauty before fading into nothing but ruin. For such a flash was like looking at a star it did have astounding moments. But the second of wonder would then fade into a scar upon the world. The heat was enough to turn bodies into statues of ash. The kinetic energy enough to shatter concrete walls and annihilate all infrastructure. Cars and planes were ripped apart brutalized by the force. And rising into the skies was a cloud shaped in a "mushroom" as some would say. Tip of the cloud blazed red from ionized particles. Azrael was a monster, and perhaps today she'd die for what she had done. Or perhaps she'd go on to repeat these acts of terror, either outcome she was fine with to be honest. She was fighting for her people, but she didn't dispute that should peace be found she'd have no home. This was her age, whatever it brought about was not.

@ult_azrael:

Solaris was not so easily halted as all that. When she had come to Earth she had done so with little training or skill...then she had met the entity known as Ryan and all of that had changed. Over the last months she had been training intensely to use her powers to their fullest without killing, to react quickly to changing situations and her vast intellect had consumed thousands of books on strategy and tactics.

When they began constructing improvised transports Solaris adjusted. She took out the new transports with one hand while hitting the mutants that built them with the other. She dialed the energy output down for that hand so that each strike on a mutant was non-fatal, but it did take them out of the fight, searing skin, perhaps causing blindness and certainly knocking them out of the fight. Once they were taken care of she moved on to other transports.

Rigorous training was necessary for the upcoming battle Twilight suspected, the event at the ball and now her not too recent conversation with Tymeria Siegeborn.

The Origin went as far as to fetch her armor she dubbed Origin of War, the smooth fitting enchanted attire suitable back then during the secret ninja clan wars. The fingerless sleeve gloves were quickly put on in combination with her light cuirass made of unknown material, as it went above her black tunic she checked her boots by tapping the ground

Good not a sound, the enchantments seem to still work after all these years Twilight looked up into the foggy light of this pocket dimension "Okay, sha-"she stopped as she heard explosions in the back ground and the conjuration spell broke thus bringing her back into the real world.

Now

There was a ominous feeling in the air for the Origin, the vision of which she received from several weeks ago had come true Twilight rested her back against a wall from the very top of a skyscraper where she could see the destruction from the harbor the heavily fortified area was no more.

"Once again an Origin comes to the aid of humanity, and the fallen shall be resurrected and know our deeds" she murmured this to herself gently and remembered what a female vampire told her

Mhmm, I'll give her a sign on where to meet me

Twilight pondered long and hard for a Conjuration spell she hadn't use in over a millenia "Conjuro procella tenebrarum"the translation?

Conjure storm of darkness, and as it was said so it was done in the general direction of where she was looking. Masses of darkness formed above and shielded the entire bay as well as docks from sunlight, fighting under the darkness a ninja's way

"Ianuae Magicae" she faded away from existence only to reappear in solitude by the docks, she dropped to one knee as she touched some ashes of fallen soldiers and closed her eyes.

The beginning of a powerful Restoration Spell was in progress.

"You could be as big as Madonna." Every weekend I arrived at the White House entrance dressed in my favorite sweatpants with an over sized hoodie from the most legit east coast university.

"Just get in the car and then let's touch the road." Every weekend I routinely found myself walking alongside a quartet of icy eyed body guards, each tasked with getting me underneath a layer of clothes that ought to be meant for a sketchy Hellfire Club party.

"Don't make any other plans, Mister Addams." This evening, however, was different from the rest. Instead of the usual finitely scheduled dress rehearsal for another issue of god knows what, the White House staff had sent their most bomb ass secretary to interrupt my signature sensitive player with a hint of sugar daddy aesthetics montage.

"Wait, what?" I'm fully aware of the play on lyrics my next mistake's made, but I can't help the inherent Addams charm.

"Don''t many any other plans," she spoke with a serious inflection, which incidentally shot down the uprising south of my equator. Her deadlocked brown as tree bark eyes stiffened my posture and made me feel a sense of severity.

"You will be escorted to safer quarters on your mother's request," Any semblance of cockiness that may have exuded from my developing pecks and Oscar winning smile left without a trace. The mere idea of Clarice showing genuine concern for my well being was enough to sweat from my forehead to my toes.

"What's going on? What about my dad?" It's weird, saying it out loud, but ever since I met him......Noah's been the dad I've been dreaming of since childhood. He's bent over backwards to keep me in school, he's put food on the table, he's put clothes on my back, and he's the only reason I've given this woman an actual chance at being my mother.

"Hello? Earth to Katy Perry! I'm not going anywhere unless I know my dad is safe!" She's stepping back, albeit slowly, visibly concerned for her well being I suppose, and I'm kind of insulted. I know I have a resting bitch face, I know my words can often create a scene, but dammit I have conviction.

"F*ck this, you don't want to tell me what's up, fine. I'll go find my dad my damn self." I'm pretty sure she told me something about homeland terrorism, some real HBO drama type of situation, but if there's anything I've learned from old friends is that tigers never changes their stripes. So, I believe Miss Congeniality saying Clarice had my best interests at heart. I wouldn't let my dad fall victim to whatever mess the presidency might have fallen into, because I couldn't lose him. I just couldn't.

"You're not going anywhere....I have something you want," the faint smell of Vodka and chocolate chip cookies smacked my airways as the quartet of body guards known for being on my ass had finally found my position. The leader of this band of personality vacant, early James Bond inspired, drones stepped forward and looked at my junk. He stared for a brief moment, a sense of discomfort drawn on my face, and all I could muster was this thought of finally understanding the feminist plight.

"I've got my son. I've sent for my ex, but all I can think about is my timeline. How long before America uses my kitty cat as an excuse for this mess? Don't laugh. You know it's true," she candidly spoke of her people without remorse, knowing full well how easy it would be to blame a woman for the world's tragedies.

"Lord knows they've been waiting for the final shoe to drop," this time her tone deepened with a sense of distaste, her time as a pro mutant cure activist immediately coming to mind. It was that simple factoid that could implicate her into a connection to the pseudo American attack on foreign soil.

"I've done my best. The national guard has been deployed to assist our citizens, but this shit is only going leave a stain. It's up to us to clean it up to the best of our abilities," she conversed with her partner via a Stark tech bluetooth ear piece, managing to handle business whilst adjusting her image for future usage.

"I'm depending on you @_animus_. If things run smoothly, there's no doubt in my mind, that we're looking at history made." Miss Pierce fluffed her hair once more, smiling as her eyes glistened with glee, but as she lead her discussion toward its' endpoint the transmission swayed. A interlude of sorts caught her off guard as the sound of a familiar grunt edged her along for a second or two. This interception was by no means intentional, it was most certainly serendipitous, but it didn't have an less meaning. In fact, it left her in a bit of a stir.

"I, uh, I have to go. Please, work your magical charm Mister Newscastle. Make your President proud." Miss Pierce half smiled with that inherent playfulness before ripping the device from her ear, and throwing it onto the marble sink with an expression of absolute perturbation. And for a moment she stood perfectly still, hands clasped above her heart, wondering and wondering if the impossible had actually occurred.

"That bastard.....(@anthony_stark)?"

14 Hours Ago

I've spent millenniums watching through the eyes one of the greatest terrors this universe has ever bared witness. The terror Goliath had died. The sins he could commit had survived far past his time. With the time I have spent witnessing the footprint known as humankind the more disgusted I become, the more spiteful I become. Nearly every species I have encountered in my studies had a certain understanding of where their place in the universe was, where on the ladder they sat. The humans have no such notion, going as far as to state their solo part in the universe, a single race in the infinitely growing vortex. The mutantkind are like humans in every possible form except for the chance of power their unique genes hold. And the barbarians hate them for it. Envy.

The screens of Time Square and generally all around the city alerted everything near them of the recent act against the mutantkind. A slaughter, of a refuge camp. I may not be known for being a saint but there is a line I draw at lowering soldiers to women, children, fathers, and elders, and shooting them down with their eyes closed. The mutants are undeniably an evolution of humankind, but they don't want to evolve. They don't even begin to understand what's best for them, if they cannot understand it, surely it's heresy. Human history proves this around every corner, Witch Trials, Philosophers, Native Americans, etc. Human history is nearing it's final chapter.

Currently, New York City Skyline

The Jurassic Juggernaut had watched the riots slam into each other in unorganized piles of bodies. Some groups carrying signs and necklaces, others carrying their bedside firearms and kitchen knives demanding blood for a genocide they never understood. But of course those who stood over the rest of the world had arrived, those with abilities. Already, suits of armor soared across the skies and energy beams were firing across the ground below, the time of spectating had long lost it's cause. The mutants needed another hand to carry it to power.

The Cosmic Prince's cape blasted behind him on the draft of the rooftop, the perfect place to watch humanity tear itself down after it's potential had been tainted. Every few minutes the roar of the crowd below could be cut through by the sound of rubber burning as a semi-truck tore through the crowds, or some lucky revolutionary with an automatic weapon climbing onto a mailbox and spraying fire into those around them, no matter what part of the war they supported, even when a helicopter was shot down landing into a crowd it wasn't long until the crowd was on the move once again. Something louder was required, and no nuclear weapons were at hand, but a skyscraper rest at his boots. His eyes took a brighter red as the supports of the building tore apart at the atomic level. His scales took a passage up the side of his ribs as four more arms would take the spot of where they once held. If you would have blinked you would have missed the Silver Hand slam his fists into the roof of the building, his eyes blasting beams through Sixty-Seven stories and destroying whatever was left of the foundation.

It all went down. First the glass could never hold against the stress, shattering particles over the pavement below, the sky above looking fractured through the glare of the glass. Next was the final part, the rubble and the tower hitting the city floor. A burst of ash and debris capable of flinging rioters to their backs crumbled to the ground. The unlucky below had the unfortunate fate to slam their skulls into the curb, or be split in two by the crosswalk sign they were flung into. Yet the roars had showed their true form, cries. The Universal Undertaker had risen from the ash, his crimson one of the view visible objects in the thick clouds of pollution.

The pavement had began to bubble into shells around the mutant population and supporters in the riot, for what would follow next would require such actions. A standoff like this had happened in the far past of the Empire. The Imperial Castle had view of one of the proclaimed prophets of the revolution. His followers stood around his pedestal, waiting. The city was raging with fire and shouts, yet the dead silence was capable of being heard from the balcony of the highest tower. Simply comparable to a bubble, it's own space in time of simply nothing. Until the prophet had thrown firearms to those below him, the bubble shattered, just another part of the cries now. The situation compared to the scene underway. The pavement under those unprotected catching fire, the beams from his eyes burning through the crowds tearing them apart, mortars blasting down from the atmosphere literally splattering those in it's way, fathers, uncles, mothers, children, one genocide paid with another.

In the moments that followed the pavement shields around the mutants had begun to collapse around them to gravel. The sight ahead of them lay bodies of those they used to call neighbors, co-workers, friends. Their bodies lay burned and bloodied, their lips curled back to the gruesome sight of a wasteful death. Only comparable to the mass graves left earlier by those sent to slaughter the innocents.

The Snake stood ahead of the mutants in shock, most of them at a point of regurgitation over the sight after minutes in darkness. His arms opened wide, the praise of vanquish expected. Met with silence.

Ulysses' brow turned low as his arms held wide, the few claps that did arrive did nothing to break the background rapture of shouts and cries. His cape faced the mutants as he began walking slowly over the bodies with his sleek blue boots. Then approaching into a slight jog. Escalating to a run until a full-on sprint down the street and past the parties of war. His eyes blasted into the walls of the buildings, those that had decided to stay in the office until the riots died down and they could go home we're sent through cubicles, becoming more ashlike until they simply fell to a desk, dust.

The Gecko Prince was no longer a spectator, just another one of the energy blasts on the street. Another one of the revolutionaries. Another casualty of the Mutant War.

@solarhawk:

As Induction's victims died a painful death, two figures showed up in the old mutant's peripheral vision. He turned to face his on coming opponents who looked like angels. "Perhaps I should have converted to Catholicism" he mused to himself. As the angelic beings got closer, Induction realized the duo were not of heavenly descent. A mace and assault rifle were not weapons fit for warriors of heaven.

They began to go on and on about their "American comic book" morals. Killing is wrong and all that jazz. It really was quite funny. The old man chuckled a little and began to speak, "You speak as though you know the loss my people have faced. These humans do not care whether a government orders the execution of an entire camp of mutants. They go on about their everyday lives, ignoring the carnage. It makes me sick".

A human male remained on the ground, in pain. His leg had been torn through by the electric blast. Induction ignored the two winged warriors and walked towards the man on the ground. The man tried to crawl away, but pain enveloped his body forcing him to stop moving. "Look at this worm sniveling on the ground. I can tell he did not care about the mutant massacres occurring. All he cares about is some promotion in job he will eventually be replaced in".

Electricity began to spark from his hands and helmet. "I would like to see you two try to protect them". From the old mutant's body came an impulse of electrical energy which fried the man and began to go towards the winged warrior.

@_ulysses_:

Sometimes, it took an alien to speak to an alien. Time Siphon in full power armor floated down in front of him as he ran, close enough to be obvious and catch his attention while also not being so close that he could simply run into her. She watched him quietly, examining his temporal line. It was funny how things worked, she was planning on remaining neutral...and then someone out of their own time line appeared and drew her to New York like a moth to a flame. "You're so old..." She said quietly with an edge to her voice that suggested a predator contemplating food rather than someone intending to insult him. "Why are you here?" She asked. "Look around you." Time Siphon added with a gesture to their surroundings. "Such short lives, they barely live for the blink of an eye and they're fighting over who is superior to who. Do you really want to dirty yourself with these people? Are you really going to stand and fight for mutants, the race on this planet dishonest enough with itself to believe they are somehow morally superior to humans? They bitch about genocide and then do exactly the same thing. Somehow of course it's ok, because hey they're only Humans and this is for justice."

Time Siphon was feeling particularly predatory after Tokyo. She was closer to starving than she had been in almost a year and people had been giving her crap for resurrecting the population of the city. If she thought about it she would realize that her darker side, the monster she was always afraid of, was closest to the surface today...and that only made her more unpredictable than normal. "I'm hungry, are you hungry?" She knelt slowly, placing a hand on the pavement. "I could feed off you for days..."

The Lizardling had stopped in his tracks, the voice behind him forcing a stop, yet he did not turn to face @timesiphon

"You and I both know you aren't going to attack someone you don't fully understand. You're going to analyze me to have a partial idea what you're going to "feed" on."

The sidewalk that the crowds fought on was drained slightly of it's molecular bond until forming under the Gecko Prince, he sat on the hump formed under him. The wreckage of a burning car transforming into the back of his chair just behind his back as he reclined.

"These humans, mutants are surely nothing new. I've seen racial disputes before, but this is a crime of evolution, dear girl. Normally I'd pass to the next galaxy but these humans are ignorant, I can't let them destroy themselves like this. The best thing for humanity right now is something inhuman. They don't understand that these mutants are capable of making Earth a noticeable planet. These people must understand that the mutants are the next element of their evolution yet they remain so defiant of the future, as to take arms against it. The powered beings of this planet are the true rulers, not the political ones. What they do affects everything this planet does. These mutants are one of the greatest races I've ever witnessed, most species have subtle changes like fingerprints or shape, but these mutants have changes in their abilities. They can't get comfortable with mutants because they can't keep a finger on them long enough to understand them individually, they look at one of them and see an entirely different race with each single one. This war and revolution is going to change everything. If mutants become a legitimate population on this planet the universe is going to take notice. This planet is so singled out because it is viewed as vermin, the humans are rodents. If we can solve this with the humans understanding the mutants, they are certain to be known as more than a race gone wrong. I've witnessed millenniums of history and I'm certain of one thing about humanity.

@_ulysses_:

"I might attack someone I don't fully understand, I'm starving. I spent too much energy saving Tokyo. I'm not sure which morality is in play right now." She listened to him though, wrapping her mind around the temporal lines in the area, feeling them out and looking for targets of interest besides him. "I understand how you feel, at times I feel like everything I encounter is a pathetic ant, I am a Time Siphon, we're apex predators and I've been fighting my nature for so...fucking...long....but I also know that killing Humans at the hands of mutants is not the answer. Do you know what happens when you kill humans? They hold a grudge, they lose respect for you and they plan revenge...this is an unending cycle, mutants kill humans, humans kill mutants, it will end with extinction...perhaps mutual extinction."

The burning car fell to dust and her eyes flashed for a moment as she fed on its remaining energy to maintain her stability. "The mutants have come here because some humans killed a bunch of them, they cry 'justice' and delude themselves into thinking they aren't doing exactly the same thing and breeding a new generation of hatred to their own kind. Neither of these races are ready."

Life is about choices. Whatever you do, you have to make the decision to go through with it. Otherwise, how else is it going to get done? Going to the gym daily, eating healthy, getting your vehicle inspected on time. These all compound eventually. But sometimes, it all just happens too fast. You're caught in a hurricane of tough choices that will frame the rest of your life. They define you as a person. As a piece in the grand game.

Abraham "Thunderbolt" Lannister used to be a decorated and highly-respected officer from the Korean and Vietnam Wars who had good connections to a certain family in Washington state. One day, he received a notice that they were all dead. Refusing to accept this, he traveled to the ground zero of the incident, wandering the ruins in a hazmat suit until he found the old Roosevelt home - decimated. The shadow of Marty Roosevelt still sitting in his favorite chair lingered in the hollow corpse of a building.

Abraham never forgot what he saw that day, nor what he heard. A truly terrifying sound, a roar neither beast nor man, erupted from the distance. Something had survived the explosion. Something angry. All at once, Abraham's many anxieties and griefs related to the disaster were all heaped on the creature responsible for the noise, for what else could survive a nuclear holocaust save for a monster capable of such destruction in the first place? As the beast leapt away, Abraham swore to give chase.

And the HULK Corps became a reality.

---

Six blocks out. That was the maximum distance allowed for containment. Evacuations began immediately upon arrival. Relocating millions of people would take time, obviously, but covering their escape into shelters outside the city meant their survival. Hospitals already serving as stations of security and protection were emptied. Once either the mutants or Hulk became uncontrollable, Abraham feared for the worse. Subway systems were converted into makeshift hubs ferrying hundreds at a time to neighboring districts, and from there to other cities.

The process would take hours to complete. But it often took days for Hulk to turn back into Trevor Roosevelt. The devastation could only be hinted at.

"Sulley, do you copy?"

"Aye,"

"You know the drill. I'm calling in the airstrike in thirty seconds,"

With the massive funding going into Abraham's project, there came also the acquisition of enormous talents. Sulley Marsden had experience as a sniper all across the board, from Vietnam to Venezuela. He fought in dozens of skirmishes and battles against mutants, learning their habits and fighting patterns. Of course, this came at a price. He had to have his left leg amputated after a truck fell on it. The green culprit haunted him about thirty stories off the ground and more than a thousand feet away. Even at that distance, Sulley could smell the beast. He licked his teeth.

Few rounds could pierce the monster's flesh, and no bullet could put Hulk down for the count. What Sulley fired had been a technological marvel. A supercomputer existed in the bullet itself, launched into the base of Hulk's neck. Normally, the beast's regenerative healing factor would squeeze the object out and close the wound in no time at all.

However, this bullet acted like a parasite and refused to move. It used the momentum provided by the gunpowder to burrow into Hulk's neck, and kept digging using a drill bit at the tip before attaching directly to the vertebrae of the neck. Its prime directive: to hold on. For the next three minutes, Hulk's cells would attack the bullet and try to either force it out or destroy it. On a molecular level, the battle could only be described as epic in scope. Microbes unique to the supercomputer brain combated the green behemoth's natural protective enzymes in his irradiated blood. At least, such was the situation for a short while. Again, no bullet could put Hulk down for the count. Eventually, the bullet would be extracted and its purpose complete.

But for now, it acted as a tracer.

A tracer for an airstrike.

---

@anthony_stark, @jack_, @_envy_,@brahma_bull

---

For a split second, it seemed as if the mutants had won. Already with a juggernaut in their ranks in the Brahma Bull, the monstrosity sworn to their service lumbered towards their field commander in Apex. Already engaged against the messiah of the modern era, the Russian quite possibly had his hands full with Stark. But something different glowed in Hulk's eyes. No longer did he seem hypnotized by circumstance. Free to make his own choices, the most dangerous weapon on the planet made its presence known.

Brahma Bull often made use of something called thunderclaps, a phenomenon caused by a large superhuman putting his or her hands together with such force as to produce a dome of concussive energy, carrying with it enough momentous force to level buildings, uproot opponents, and douse raging infernos. As if to challenge the Bull's trademark usage of this physically dominating trait, Hulk stepped forward and lunged into the proper position. The level of destructive output contained in the resulting gust remained comparable to a F5 tornado happening all at once, directed in a cone shape at the heart of the mutant offensive.

As if this was not enough, Hulk seemed to understand that the pain he felt in his neck earlier meant an incoming attack. For some odd reason, the thunderclap meant to offend and assault both the Bull and the mutants also saved them the trouble of enduring the airstrike in of itself. All of the ballistics involved were absorbed by Hulk's massive body, each cacophonous thud met with an increasingly agitated grunt until the smoke withered away and the beast emerged unscathed - but enraged.

Every once in a while, Hulk's tactical brilliance seemed to emerge at the strangest times. For the most part, he existed as a dumb brute throwing his weight around without a care in the world. But for now, the jade juggernaut exhibited something rare in his class as a monstrous hero. He showed class.

Cracks formed in the street in the aftermath of the airstrike built the foundation of Hulk's next move. Hurling his fists into the cement, the beast broke a massive rift between city and sea before lifting the shelf higher than the skyscrapers. In two swift and unbreakable motions, Hulk had uprooted countless tons of earth, concrete, and steel, revealing a labyrinth of pipes and infrastructure underneath. The resulting wall of debris divided the battlefield, bringing the fighting between humans and mutants to an abrupt - albeit temporary - end. At least now, the evacuation process could continue uninhibited for the time being.

Hulk then turned his attention back to the crowd he had just labeled as his enemies.

Hours Ago Crusader Base Location Unknown

Franklin T Washington stood before his troops proudly not a hint of hesitation in his voice ,posture or words he knew as the one sending these brave and men and women to battle against such a malicious force of mutants all that they would have for comfort on the cold hard battle filled streets of new york city would be his words but still Franklin was a natural speaker and as he opened his mouth all sound halted as if the earth itself wanted to hear his words.

"My fellow Crusaders we are on the eve of a great battle one that could define the very future of not only The Crusaders but all of humanity and I know no men better to secure that future then the ones standing before me now the world outside calls us terrorists because they do not yet see the good we are doing by fighting the terrors that plague them and that is fine because when the smoke has risen from the city and the rubble clears they will see us standing atop a mountain of mutants planting a flag on it for of all humanity.

For those of you worried about dying today you may put your mind at ease not about dying because for everyone that is an inevitable fate the best anyone can hope for is to die for the right reason and for their legacy to be secured and I can promise you all those who fall in today's battle your legacies will indeed be safe for this day all of humanity will be your legacy every kiss between two people madly in love ,every time a man comes home to be ambushed by his awaiting children ,every kiss ,hug ,laugh from now to all of eternity this will be your legacy and it is one any man would be proud to die for .

And Now a force of pure evil threatens this legacy your legacy and the only way to protect it is to put your lives on the line but remember the goal of war is die for your beliefs but to make the other side die for theirs so even if death is the easy way out I want you to fight until you personally see the bright light men when faced against the forces of justice evil will always fall BECAUSE That IS WHAT WE ARE JUSTICE ,CHAMPIONS OF HUMANITY,WE ARE THE CRUSADERS!!!The crusader yelled with Franklin now eager for battle and hungry for justice if the name of the crusaders did not yet strike fear in the hearts of evil then that was going to change today.

Now In New York

A pack of mutants run through the streets innocent in the conflicts they were still being hunted they dashed into alleyway oblivious to one of them stepping on a device as it was triggered the device sent out a series of lasers that cut the fleeing mutants into little bits not leaving a single one standing and from out of the darkness emerged a man dressed in hunting gear equipped with a large pistol on one side and a whip on the other.

As he knelled down to pick up the trap and fold it back up to its travel size a squad of crusaders who had clearly been chasing the mutants appeared "move out of the way civilian we are chasing mutants "The hunter stood up and pointed to the pile of meat "well congrats boys you caught up to them I will leave the clean up to you .

As he said that he walked away one of the crusaders reached to stop him but was stopped by another man in his unit who looked like he had seen a ghost" that sigil on his jacket its ours "The first crusader looked confused I have never seen him around "The other one replied "You wouldn't have he is never at the base he is the lieutenant they send the hunt all the most dangerous mutants guys so strong they would rip us apart in a second .

You heard of the guy who tamed those two x-9's deemed uncontrollable by the the others "the first crusader shook his head "Well he is the guy who did it they say all he did was assert his dominance can you imagine what kind of monster he would have to be to assert dominance over a regular x-9 let alone those behemoths and just like that the first crusader realized he had just been saved from death.

All along the rest of new york the crusaders massacred the mutants they could find supported with advanced technology superior strategy and multiple x-9 units sure the mutants had powers but many of them had never killed a person and they were against battle hardened warriors they had little chance to properly fight back .

Those who were not gunned down were having collars placed around their necks to subdue their powers and then being loaded on to trucks to be taken to testing facilities for experiments under the cover of this raging battle the crusaders were steadily lowering new yorks mutant population .

@ownagepants: @charm_caster:

A small speaker was held in the towering blonde's hand as she walked along the coast. She'd been simply enjoying the walk in the sun thanks to Twilight the vampire wasn't roasting away. So there she was armed like a knight of old. Standing as tall if not taller then most men. And what came from her speaker? Hello from Martin Solveig and Dragonette. A surprisingly upbeat choice for someone like Thmeria Siegeborn.

"Lovely evening isn't Twila? In the distance towers fall and there's even a mushroom cloud. War brings out some of the most artistic barbaric feats of man. But I would prefer I kill my food not them killing eachother." Her dry sense of humor showing through her words. "My advice? Don't bring back the dead there's enough disaster don't toss in miracles. But that's just me, if you need me just say my name. I'm off to find someone to cleave in two."

With that the vampire took off into the streets her speed was only mach two at the time no reason to play as hard as she could from the start. Still she was disastrous to those who fell in her path, high speed and a five ton blade made easy work of those who got in her way. She didn't focus on race just the extremism. Hateful men and women would only birth further hatered. So in efforts of peaceful resolution she split bodies in two. That was until she neared a more militarized faction of mutant killers.

They were fifty yards down range middle of the road, easily removed the vampire thought. From what appeared to be nothing spears began to line the street where Blades stood. With enough force to send the spear clean through a car the spears shot forward. At Mach two they were also swift in their release. As Tymeria leased more and more spears toward the prey she also ran forward leaping into the air when nearing close proximity. Thanks to speed and momentum what would of been three dozen dropped daggers instead was a brief barrage of bullet like daggers.

Be they corpses or still contending men Meri would give her a claymore a skillful flourish and respectful bow. "Blades most know me by. A vampire knight with quite some years and you would be?"

@induction_:

Electricity was not a wonderful weapon against the two Hawk Lords. Solar Hawk raised her mace and Luna Hawk did the same with her rifle. Both weapons channeled the energy into their forms rather than allowing it to flow into the warriors like absorptive lightning rods. Luna Hawk began firing her rifle the moment the energy wave had passed, it kicked in her hands and roared to life as it unleashed a hail of armor piercing, high explosive rounds towards Induction. Each bullet was hand crafted from Nth Metal around an explosive core, the Nth Metal could penetrate virtually every metal on earth, save for Vibranium, but even Vibranium would only withstand so much. Each slug was seventy five caliber, huge rounds meant to put down anyone or anything of power if they reached their target.

White energy flowed from Solar Hawk's right hand and formed a dome around the combatants, cutting Induction off from assaulting further innocents. The moment the dome was formed she was on him, leaping across the distance between them in moments and swinging her Nth metal mace at him with super human force.

An anthropomorphic mass of flesh interwoven with thin tracks of technology is stretched to the brink of it's capabilities, the shape-shifting political supervisor working in tandem with several arms, eyes, hands and mouths to coordinate a rapid response to a new device.

In the center of the mass of pink and black is one lone head with a blue light blinking where an ear should be, "Don't be so cynical President Pierce. They have more gripes with you than your...'Kitty'. But that's why I'm here. To mediate and facilitate."

While simultaneously hanging on the presidents every word the indefinable immortal meta welds together panels to a base device as large as the room and baring a satellites outer visage. Another part is placing the finer circuitry and yet another two help one another write an inexorable amount of coding data designed to make hacking nigh impossible, the foundation provided by Thomas himself as well as a conglomeration of both CIA and Animus Corporations finest minds. Which coincidentally are the worlds finest.

With a smirk the face recedes into the orgy of self that may have spoken volumes if ever captured on camera, of his ego. The body inverts on itself until he becomes singular again, fixing a red tie in his custom tailored black suit, his blue tooth still blinking as he looks on at the new machine that stood like a technological mount Rushmore before him.

"You have my word Miss Pierce. I'll see you when you return." Tapping the end call button he takes a deep breath, smacking his palms together with a wide grin and a glisten in his eyes like a father witnessing his newborn in the nursery before he can hold it.

"Smythe!" He yells into the hall way of the bunker that sat beneath the white house, fitted as a base of operations for his newest endevour.

"Yes sir?" A young man asks holding a A-pad and a phone, juggling them with an acrobats mental acuity

"Call for fifty marines on the white house lawn, twenty five D.C. police officer on the front gates,their swat snipers on the neighboring roofs. We need to lock down the building entirely. Then setup a podium on the front steps and get us a feed into all channels on the emergency broadcast channels. Also tell nike I've broken their copyright laws and they will be repaid accordingly with positive PR. Go, now."

"Yes sir." Picking up his phone the Smythe speaks a long strand of numbers into the reciever before being patched into the secure military channel "General Braden? This is an executive order on behalf of Vice President Animus, call sign..." his voice fades as the assistant to the VP heads for the upper levels to fulfill his initiative.

" Call: Troy Addams. ( @clara_mass ) ...ring...ring... Hello, Troy. This is Thomas. Newcastle. I'm going to have the men escort you down to the PEOC, we need to discuss to somethings. I'll see you in five minutes...Don't forget your phone."

The urban jungle of New York city burned like wood in a stove, the air was heavy with the smell of recently burnt flesh and smoke hung in a haze that partially obscured the ebullient sun. The city beneath the Technological Behemoth hadn't seen such carnage in a long time, even the destruction of the Statue of Liberty over two years ago paled in comparison to this. Even nature had abandoned home, the skies were barren, no birds flew or sang, having retreated the instance the fighting had begun.

An omen, or simply instinct, perhaps.

When nature flew out, and survived as it tried. Stark flew in, as was his nature, to fight. “Horizon, locate an enemy captain-“ yet before the Mechanical Maestro could utter another word, his field of vision was interrupted by red words, fed into his subconsciousness yet still displayed upon his HUD for ease of use. The words simply said;

--Warning; projectile incoming. Scan’s indicate a heat based weapon, possible chance of evasion low, recommend naturalizing via counter-measures--

And all of that information, relayed into Stark’s magical mind instantaneously, his artificial intelligence unit Horizon was perpetually scanning the battlefield for threats and uploading them into his mind and nervous system. Meaning Stark needn't think during battle, for his advanced quantum based computer had already done so at superluminal speeds.

In effect, the Technological Titan’s reactions were almost instinctual, happening with little to no delay unless the threat was highly sophisticated, and Stark actually had to think.

Without hesitate, as though he had a kind of preternatural precognition, the Merchant of Death thrust out his palm and fired off a cryogenic-based beam, hoping to intercept the Alpha Mutant’s own (primarily) heat based offensive.

However, as their beams collided, the heat in Alpha’s beam was neutralized by the cyro-weapon, unfortunately Stark hadn't been able to account for the unique energy configuration which frantically switched the beam to light, and then force, allowing the attack to smash through his counter-measure and crash straight into the past presidents chest.

“Hm,” Stark grunted, feeling his flight course disrupted as the monstrous bream of crimson energy caused him to buckle side-wards and perform a mid-air barrel roll, his chest steaming from the admittedly powerful blow, which had even left a faint black mark. “Too close.” He thought, his suit having already analysed the power of the shot, and realized without his new modifications, such a blow would have dealt considerable damage.

Luckily, a great amount of the weapon’s energy had been mostly absorbed into his suit of armor, unlike adamantium, or even pure vibranium, trion (the metal of which his suit was coated with) was both as strong as adamantium, whilst retaining the energy absorption properties of vibranium, meaning it had safeguarded him from most of the effects as he gently steered himself back on course which, of course, had now been altered – If this opponent had the gall to attack Stark in such a way, Anthony would be rude to deny him a battle, right?

But first, he had business to attend to.

------------

Blitzing away at seven times the speed of sound, Stark’s scanners located Hulk, or otherwise known as Trevor, a green behemoth which was the sole purpose of Anthony’s arrival. This battle was only a show. A show, for Hulk. Stark wanted the world’s most powerful weapon on his side, and he would get it. But first… He would need to prove to the green giant of his “good” intentions.

In the space of half a second, a misplaced shot from the HULK Corps aimed at (@roosevelt) missed and fired into a building containing over 300 citizens, catching ablaze and potentially risking their lives. Without thought nor hesitating Stark zoomed past Hulk in a dash of silver brilliance and fired a cryogenic missile into the building which exploded, and froze the fire in its track. Potentially saving over 300 lives. Stark didn’t need to fly so low to the ground, and risk being attacked. But he had to make sure Hulk had seen him saving those lives. It was the start of his manipulation.

------------

A Clash of Titan's, continued

Rocketing through the air at speeds far greater than even the United States greatest military missiles could have caught him, Anthony Stark, having just saved lives, now intended to take a life.

He vanished.

Only to reappear, behind his opponent. (@jack_)

Behind his opponent with a single arm outstretched,

and he fired.

Pressured, and weaponized phosphorus blasted out of his repulsion unit and aimed to douse Russia's Most Wanted Criminal with enough to eat chunks out of reinforced concrete and steel, water, sand, no conventional means of stopping fire would stop these chemical burns.

Incredibly deadly, vicious, and lethal.

Extremely deadly because the particles, once ignited upon a surface, continue to burn unless deprived of atmospheric oxygen.

Stark didn't stop there.

A second hand was thrust out, firing three shots of his cryogenic beam aimed towards the visor, if they achieved contact upon a surface, the shots would rapidly begin to lower the temperature of a given surface and cause instant freezing, Stark hoped to not only burn Alpha alive with his chemical weapon, but freeze his brain until death.

He was back, and without any remorse.

@anthony_stark:

Aleksei watched his attack fizzle against his newest foe's chestplate, his enemy spiraling out of sight. He may have successfully tagged who he assumed to be Stark, but he could tell that the fight was only just beginning. He entered a combat stance, preparing for the inevitable counterstrike that would follow his opening salvo. His peripheral vision enhanced via his mutant powers, he glared at the destruction around him, searching for any sign of his target. He tensed, adrenaline coursing through his veins, aware that at any moment his attack would be met with one of equal or greater lethality...

The Technological Titan came back into being behind Aleksei, palms raising. In that very instant, the Alpha Mutant's mind accelerated, his mutant endocrine glands going into overdrive. Between the passing of seconds, he observed his foe's technology roaring to life, a noise that snapped him into action. Clearly, his basic projectile attack hadn't been enough to do any real damage to the Ex-President, so he would need to switch to a more advanced means of combat. But first, he would need to survive the present conflict...

With indescribable speed, Apex loosed a hasty blast into the ground at their feet. But this attack was like no other he had so far used in the way that it was not intended to hit his foe.

The laws of physics state that for every reaction, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Like the recoil of a gun, Apex's blasts would under normal circumstances propel him backwards with equal and opposite force. Apex subconsciously mitigates this potential weakness by releasing energy behind himself in minute, omnidirectional amounts at the same time he fires a beam forwards. This protects him from both whiplash and being shot backwards into the air. At this point, however, that was exactly what he wanted to happen. He mentally prevented himself from releasing the reverse energy, focusing his blast only in front of himself. Thus, at the same instant a deadly chemical weapon was released into the air around the Russian Renegade, he was propelled away from the his armored opponent at blur-like speeds, his beam crashing into the ground. Three precise blasts of cold energy followed him, nearly making contact with his suit. He felt the air grow colder around himself as they passed, knowing that without his advanced reflexes, he would be out of the fight.

With his intimate radar-like sense of his surroundings, Apex rebounded off of a wall using his powers, performing a complex maneuver that carried him across the street. Rolling to the ground on the opposite side of where the engagement began, he made a tactical assessment, his mind working without him even needing to consciously think of what he was doing. He couldn't fight from a distance, as his beams had already been shown to have little effect on the so-called Mechanical Maestro; he would need to get in close to be able to utilize his other abilities. But, he would also fall victim to Stark's chemical weapons, unless he could find a way to change their direction...

The choice was clear. Within microseconds of his assessment of the battle, Aleksei took a deep breath, performing a spinning maneuver through the air. Reminiscent of a slash-kick, he spun from right to left, waiting until he was facing the opposite direction of his foe. At that instant, he carried out the same maneuver he had a second before, propelling himself across the square using only his energy beams. Absorbing the impact and redirecting it with his legs, he crashed off of a wall, tumbling back into the fight behind his foe. He would then attempt to undertake one of his most effective combat sequences. He called it the Hold.

Within moments of rolling to the ground behind his foe, he would come up mere inches behind him, his energy-imbued arms wrapping around the Merchant of Death. At that very point, Apex would call upon his energy-absorbing powers, instead seeking to siphon the actual kinetic energy of his enemy. The result? His armor's very movement would be sapped, every twitch of a robot-like muscle turned against him. He would find himself growing slower and slower, until he was frozen in place like a statue. The motion of his very atoms sapped by the Alpha Mutant, he would be held in place. The absorption process would also link the two together; an nigh-invisible particle field would bind the two into a deadly grip, with Apex restraining his foe, constricting him like a bear squeezing the life out of a hunter.

But that would not be the end of the Hold; no, the negation of movement was merely the first part of one of the most lethal combinations of attacks in Apex's vast arsenal. Having refined his strategies in fights reminiscent of ancient gladiatorial combat in abandoned Russian stadiums with other mutants, he would then redirect the siphoned power directly into his hands, and back into Stark. One mighty hand would be clasped to Stark's faceplate, holding his head in place. The other, wrapped around an arm and across the back, preventing him from moving his limbs. The armor would shake and sputter, growing red-hot with aggressive vibratory energy. Eventually, with Apex still latched on, the armor would overheat and fall apart, the very molecules of the Trion-based alloy shaken in place. Slowly but surely, Apex would dismantle his foe in a process resembling disintegration.

The Hold itself would occur in an instant, but the Takedown, as he called it, would take time. He would need to keep his grip, the particle field binding the two together with power invisible to the naked eye. And it was with this power that Apex, the Alpha Mutant, would rip apart the smartest man alive.

Hero noun /ˈhirō/ a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.

Hero. Such a common word nowadays, web-slinging, gigantic characters with extraordinary powers and astonishing will. Unorthodox once, burnt and scarred by the old ages, brutally persecuted, jocosely depicted as monstrous beings, their paintings added grotesque features to a menacing charisma. Always mistreated by many, judged and condemned by their innocent actions despite being of utmost benevolence. Mutilated, panicked, cowering into the obscure corners of this world, yet they never step back. Ever. No matter how many crosses they're pinned to, how many stones are spat toward them, scratching not only flesh but soul as well.

You don't even must go as far as the Inquisition to perceive examples.

All you need is a homicidal maniac with an aggrandizing ego and infatuating persona. A man held dear by a state and admired by his united countrymen. Put a swastika wrapped around his shoulder and you have the malevolent dictator the rest of the world despised. The murderous villain, our hero's nemesis with ceaseless, chaotic forces. Those forces often communicate by symbols, unacquainted by the allied nations of good. That's where our hero, Alan Turing, makes a debut. Brandishing from outstanding brightness and an enviable intellect, the man deciphered the Nazi codes and gave the war a date to end.

If he didn't neuter the nourishing seeds of Hitler's Reich, bloodshed would stretch its arms for who knows how long? Perhaps a decade, perhaps more. A small infinite of our finite hopes would be gone, annexing to already humongous losses. Hopes in the form of future, in the form of sons endeavoring to crawl out of a trench about to burst into a tangerine bubble, garnished by a rain of red and a scent of death, in the form of tears cried, pledges unattended, unbid farewells, prayers lost within the wind...

And what happened to that man who bravely researched fields he savvied could extinguish his existence? He was sentenced by being a homosexual. By being a rainbow-colored dot in a society of grey. Did his deeds halt the bullet while his trembling fingers pressed the trigger? He may have ended his own life, but the hand of society supported his elbow.

New York - Now:

A yellow, glistening blur skyrockets throughout the city, the pressing winds do nothing but mess his combed hair, eyes are as eerily as it gets as they glass the destruction beneath. Without no warning, the motioning figure stops its track midair, slightly above Times Square, a rather cliche location for a landing, almost Hollywoodian irregardless of how dreadful. At least the edifices still stood, the lights incarcerated by war. Dampened by carmine.

That was Yury's favorite landmark on New York. His older brother, product of an unsuccessful marriage of Atrocity's father and some Russian bartender, back at when he still drank. They were only 50% blood, that much is true, yet it felt like they were the flawless brothers, despite a gap between their ages. Yuri was almost twelve years older.

Every time he spoke about Times Square, this petite flame rekindled from the bottom of his gaze, as if he painted paradise in his thoughts and embraced it.

Yuri died without ever seen Times Square.

Maybe he could watch it now, through the tears of his younger brother. A clenched fist cracks asphalt into dust. "Look at how beautiful it is, my brother..."

Los Angeles - A few hours ago:

A couple shares a couch in a quite simple apartment, on one side, the cute and bubbly Leonore chews on her hair, an old habit of hers. It usually made most of her dates regret even kissing her in the first place, but the geeky Apollo didn't seem to mind, he had his own... problems. And, aside from his heroic brother and uncaring drunktard of a father, only his girlfriend acknowledged his mutant nature. Unlike his brother, he wasn't solely built to fly. He was strong, rapid, durable, agile. A superhuman at its finest day was comparable to Apollo's bad days. His bro was travelling to aid Noc Haven, as a caped crusader himself, he couldn't stand idle as the expelled wielders of the X-gene were endangered of slaughter and ultimate destruction.

Since his father dumped Yuri's mom and married a second time, going from a cigarette-addicted bartender to a raging b*tch of a hooker, Apollo had been cursed to life. His dad dumped the first lady for giving him a 'broken' son, an 'abomination', that never stopped Yuri though. At Atro's age, he was already saving people around Los Angeles. Helping his little bro to settle in wasn't that hard after all. He made a better father than hero. Even shared his apartment and taught the boy how to control his powers, tame his insecurities and lift his head proudly for being what he was.

Next week was Yuri's birthday and Apollo had readied a surprise. He had been gathering money from some freelance jobs to buy himself a costume, land a hand to his brother whenever he wasn't sinking betwixt books of Microeconomics and Maths. Spend more quality family time virtually at the same time as he took some weight off his jaded brother's shoulders? Superb!

That's when the footage of the security cameras were transmitted globally. Well, at least what could be gathered, pieces of that... that bullsh*t. A massive crater with thousands of bodies tossed.

Primarily, Leonore craved to snatch the remote out of Apollo's hand. She would have succeeded if fate wasn't a mischievous trickster. A bright azure and yellow costume grabbed the boy's attention, punctured by a bullet and tossed into the collective grave. That trademark beard barely shaking with the whizzing breezes. Yuri's eyes, the same eyes that burnt passion while staring a triple ice cream or when mentioning Times Square and a dream of travelling to New York... they were so lifeless, lacking hope. As if all those lives he secured, all the families he didn't allow to succumb, all those people merely cared.

Another hero falls, another tombstone arises.

Leonore attempted a calm approach, her soothing voice always calmed him down, but she too was scared. Putting all insecurities aside with an expeditious wipe of her tears, she embraced him tightly to no avail. Tossed aside like she wasn't even there, Apollo rose from his seat, face emotionless, eyes as dead and gloomy as the corpses on TV. He didn't take long to hearken Envy's words and lock them in his head, resonating around the now entombed body of what once was his brother. Wrath and pain ignited his lungs, but what good would a mute shout be now?

"Idiots... Now New York will be invaded, now innocents will die all because you can't accept mutants. Because you can't accept we're superior. I can't allow that to happen.........

New York - Now:

He didn't fret in front of the artillery, bullets bounced off of him, rebound with doubled speed. Those motherf*ckers would pay. They would pay in blood what was shed in tears. That was a promise. One he made while rampaging through the thick columns of as many buildings as he could. He wasn't holding back, not now. Not for the same bastards that embraced Yuri to stab him in the back.

He was no longer destined to become Unbeatable, the charismatic vigilante of Los Angeles. Now, he would only be known by whatever carnage he caused, he was only Atrocity.

@atrocity_:

Solaris wavered from her attack on the fleet, she could hear the screams of so many people dying behind her. Charm Caster seemed to have the army at hand and could hold the bay for now, the army was no longer the problem, now the problem was individuals randomly killing innocent people. Solaris's heart sank and she lowered her hands, flying over the city to track the latest murderer to arrive. Why? Don't you understand these people aren't the ones who hurt you?

Solaris flew down and floated ahead of Atrocity. She would have shed tears for all that was going on if she could, but her eyes simply vaporized them the moment they formed. "Stop." She said, almost gently. "These are innocent people who had nothing to do with the mass murder of your people. Killing the innocent is as bad as what their army did." Please someone listen to reason today, just one person. "Do not make me fight you. Do not act like them. Murder only begets murder."

The Cosmic Prince stood from his chair, the molecules vanishing from underneath him. His arms folded across his shelled chest as his head hung.@timesiphon needed to feed, and had watched him long enough.

"You make valid points, time leaper. These mutants and humans are in a checkmate few ever manage to see the end of. Despite your argument your nature as a predator alludes you. I believe you've waited long enough to feed on me, and you practically starve at this point as you've lowered yourself to finishing off the scrap of that car. Perhaps on another scenario when you have had your hunger satisfied we could discuss this further; I apologize for leaving you hungry but I simply cannot let you feed on me."

The Undertaker turned his beaming red eyes at the predator floating before him. A duo set of beams fired from his eyes towards the floating hunter. His cape rose behind him as a force of gravity sent it flowing behind him in a scene of malevolent betrayal.

Perhaps the discussion could have lasted longer than intended by the Scholar, however this was bound to come. The nature of a predator could not be ceased nor stalled, predators were always on the watch. A starving being such as this would do anything to feed itself. Survival is a nature of every species, especially her kind. Calling them animals would be a stereotype remark, however one can assume that their descendant was rooted to some kind of top-of-the food chain beast. The predator would always choose itself over others, especially strangers they had just met.

The Jurassic Juggernaut pulled a sixshooter from behind his belt emptying a round from it's chamber at her. His cape once again flinging at Raeyn as he soared across city streets. Windows of glass of the surrounding buildings shattered to pieces as the green and blue dash flew across the city in a blur of speed. The revolution speeding by like the lives of those people. As much as Ulysses hated to admit that he had learned something from someone else, he had. The lives of these people were seconds on a cosmic clock, as his lifespan had now crossed around a few trillion years at this point. The days of their kind were at a prime moment for their future, everyone had a role to play. No matter their race, species, gender, standpoint, morals, each one had a place. But bringing up their species...

Two Miles Away from the Skyscraper rubble

The Walking Meteorite pulled a sudden stop in the middle of a crosswalk at a single formerly named street, it's sign long gone, now used as a weapon for the revolution. His sudden stop sent a force of gravity in front of him, the traffic lights flung into the windshields of parked cars, even collapsing an apartment complex inward on itself. Even with the blurred and manipulated vision around him the lightshow near Time Square between three individuals, two winged Valkyries (@solarhawk) and a tesla flinging metalhead mutant (@induction_) had been going at a standoff battle. The predator could have been at his heels but an unfair duel would not be ignored, especially if the cheated was someone he supported.

The Cosmic Prince had turned his flight to the fight bursting down the walk, as he passed behind the mutant his electricity was clearly more vibrant than others he had seen manipulate it. Ulysses had extended his mind to the wall of the phone service store down the chain of buildings, removing chunks of it's wall and sending the molecules to atmosphere. With the speed of sound coming to a halt he twisted himself around in air, G-force seizing him with the sudden turn as he skidded to a halt on the ground.

On a determined moment the atmosphere was intercepted by half a dozen molecules reforming into pieces of speeding brick overhead the winged warlords. His fists slammed into each other in a taunt of challenge to the duo of weaponized archangels.

@_ulysses_:

Time Siphon narrowed her eyes at his words and then cursed when he fired at his eye beams at her. She did nothing to dodge the attack though and instead allowed her temporal armor to absorb the blasts. The armor cracked marginally but held up well enough. The bullet never stood a chance, it impacted against her chest plate and simply flattened. She didn't chase him though, not immediately...she needed fuel first.

The Time Siphon reached out with her mind and grabbed the temporal lines of the city's dying wounded and reduced them to dust. Temporal energy once more flowed through her body and memory shards locked into place again. Time Siphon took off again, accelerating her speed to follow after her target as rapidly as she could without expending any of her newly gained energy...that she might need for the battle to come.

Why did you only take the dying, take more, take everything within range and track that bastard down. You could feed off of him for days, gain everything back that was taken from you. Then when the hunters come they'll be pathetic play things.

Raeyn shook her head as if to clear it.

No! Not that way, I won't kill the city I'm trying to protect. She replied...but that voice was weak and her hunger was strong, not nearly sated by the lives she had already taken. She was stable now, but the never ending battle for control raged on. It would take her several minutes to catch up if she chose not to accelerate the flow of time around her...and for now, that was exactly what she wanted to avoid.

Twilight listened to what the female Vampiress had to say before she left, huh maybe, no... I will revive them she closed her eyes and concentrated

"REVIVISCO!" a short pause followed

"Anima Retrieve et restituet!"

there was a deafening silence for several seconds before an uncommon event transpired, the ashes of all the fallen shot up into the air like rockets and began to shape into the forms of skeletons towards the spots they were originally in shortly before they perished. The ash solidified the skeletal forms and began to ooze red blood which was followed by organs and muscles spontaneously erupting where they would be anatomically speaking before getting slowly consumed by muscles and skin.

As this happened the destroyed barriers and military equipment began to return to their former composure, the destroyed military attire reconstituted from blue mana orbs that emitted out of Twilights body but the last of what transpired was the homecoming of souls from the void they were sent to.

"How are you all feeling today?" Twilight said with a smug look at those who were no more once whole again,

"Like s*&^"one soldier said as he looked at the rifle once destroy but now back on his hands "what happened?"

"No time to explain"Twilight issued an order with her commanding charisma "everybody is the turtle up in the buildings, we're going to resecure the docks and prevent more mutants from coming this way a word of advice however, DO NOT shoot the medieval looking vampire chick"

In a minute

As the troops began to relocate in doors Twilight was in a mad dash against time, Tymeria bought the Origin some times by causing a rocus far away from her current position but it was only a matter of time before Mutant invaders come here.

The Origin dashed towards different buildings groups U.S soldiers were splitting into "Mystic protector", "Mystic protector", "Mystic protector","Mystic protector","Mystic protector", "Mystic protector" she took a deep breath as she then focused on the manholes and possible path's mutant forces can come from in the street

"Mystic protector", "Mystic protector", "Mystic protector", "Mystic protector","Mystic protector","Mystic protector", "Mystic protector", the spell she had been casting so much were erecting incredible powerful and large mystic shields of invisible appearance, she was determined to force any people attempting to enter only two paths of entrance through here.

Mystic Shields are each capable of withstanding a low level yield nuke, with these placed the U.S forces don't have to worry about getting flanked, and the seven buildings they occupy will provide a substantial amount of defense.

She turned her head back and saw a trio of tanks driving slowly towards her, "Get out of the vehicle and go with the others" she commanded, the crew had no other choice but to obey her magical command and as they got out the female Origin had an idea

"Animatum Object"three orbs of red energy shots out of Twilight palm as she pointed it at the now abandoned tanks, each orb struck their target and brought forth life to the mechanical vehicles

Manhattan, New York

The presence of Maverick is extensive in New York, as they are hired by parts of the united states government itself to come to the aid of the national guard. In situations like these, people do not so much care where thee help comes from. Whether it be private or government, people were rushing to get out of the city. But with the heavy traffic, a dense populous and murderous mutants, the government cared less about where their help came from. M.U.Os helped the national guard with the evacuation, and helped provide medical supplies as well as engaged mutants and metahumans in the area, with most of them who publicly used their powers being shot on sight.

Maverick's infamous shadow company was busy at work engaging and assassinating priority targets. Rescuing high value V.I.P's first, who would be flown out of the city in cloaked jets. Many a corporate business man and politician. could escape. As long as you had money and resources. Power, Maverick would personally have them escorted out. Should there be anything left of this city, they could return to continue as normal. However with the way things were looking.....

New York Air Space, present

"You know...not I'm not sure why too many people live here..." One PMC trooper comments. "This place is on the news all the time about some metahuman attack. Something major goes down, you can bet your ass it will be here. Or DC...."

Inside a helicopter, Bradshaw and his men fly through the air, looking at some of the chaos of the city. M.U.Os and national guard work in conjunction in towns square as gods fight in the distance, leaving the mortal men to fight and die or flee. Many already having died simply from the titans clashing, others, releasing their vengeful fury. However, not all men lie down or flee. Many of them do fight. Take the battle to them. Some kill. Bradshaw watches drone footage, impressed by the tenacity of his fellow man and the warriors among his race (@ownagepants) (@frank_scaletta) whom defend themselves on the "homo superiors." Radio silence is maintain for stealth purposes as the silent, invisible copter flies through the air. They can however still recieve certain signals and watch what is happening from a monitor on their VTOL.

"I have a nice place in Hawaii. Far away from this crap. Good having my family away from this crap." "I remember when I was in the army. The pay was sh**. Rather be up here making 15,000 dollars a month rather then 1,400. Having better guns. Armor. Hot damn power armored. And those f***ing M.S.Cs." "Military spends more then 100 thousand on each soldier before they even reach the field. They just pay for your benefits and training instead of you..." Their idle conversation is cut short as they silently watch a building fall and crumble on tv screen. (@_ulysses_)

"Timber..." "Damn..." "Looks like we really pissed off the mutants this time." "You can say that again..." "I almost feel kinda sorry for some of them. Not all of them asked for this..." One man mentioned. And only the captain replied.

"Shouldn't feel sorry for them at all." The men grew silent as they looked upon their captain, unsure of what he was going to say. They exchanged glances as they listened to their Captain, a man who within himself, carried more hatred and anger within himself. He didn't take this job for the pay. He took it to kill mutants and metahumans, groups he so thoroughly despised. He sought to explain his lack of pity towards his men.

"They're a menace to us." "Personally, I just dislike the bad ones." "No. Think about it..." Bradshaw begins.

"Think about what they are. They all have potential to be a menace. They have power, but they are as stupid, and gullible as the rest of us humans that they claim to be better then. " He says looking outside. "They go on some roaring rampage of revenge to kill whoever the hell they want, thinking they're justified. Thinking it's wrong for us to want them to register. We gave them a country. Then look what happens. They're still attacking us. And they think the government did this? Where the hell is the proof? Five point five by fifty six millimeter NATO? That proves jack sh**. But now everyone and their thinks it was America because of pretty boy's sob story(@_envy_). Sound a little fishy to you...?"

The men had begun to piece together what exactly it was their Captain was leading to. "Not so far fetched that they organized this. Who's to say they didn't hire someone in uniform to off them or even did it them f***ing selves? No witnesses. No survivors. The only justification they have is that they found the bullets from some one of the most internationally popular guns f***ing invented. I don't feel one bit sorry for any of them. They are all a bunch of ticking time bombs. A man get mad and starts a shootout and kills 30 people. A mutant gets mad, levels half a city and kills 7 million people. See the difference?" They then watch a new mutant tearing through the army (@_envy_). "See him tearing through men who have lives and families, who just wanna defend their homes and families. He doesn't give a sh**. He sees you, and he won't give a damn that you have a family." Bradshaw pointed to the man who said that he had a family. "He'll pound you in into a red crimson smear on the ground like he will all the rest if we lay down. If we feel sorry for them. They'll wipe us out. Then what? Who the fuck knows? Some random mutant could be born tomorrow with the power to destroy all the rest. To wipe out a planet for all we know. They aren't equal in power. Soon as we're gone, they'll turn on eachother. it's just when we turn on eachother, we won't level a f***ing continent. We can keep ourselves in check. But them? They're just like us on the inside. I've killed a mutant kid before. I regretted it, for a while, but then I thought what they would grow up into. A hero? Pft. This guy was a hero once. Not even a few goddamn hours ago. He snapped just like any other man." He pointed at the Azure mutant on the screen blowing through buildings and causing carnage.

"I'm not here to be a hero. But some of you might want to be. Let's not go down without a fight let's go kill ourselves some gods. Oorah?" All them shouted their battle cries. Hooyah for Navy Special Forces and FMF. Oorah for Marines Hooah for the Army. They worked for a private military corporation, but they all remembered their roots where they received most of their training. Bradshaw would storm the bowels of hell with these men, and their fortitude rendered readied them to face whatever would be thrown at them, as Maverick has trained them to do. This was their Cape Killer's squad,a squad of well trained humans equipped with some of the finest of Maverick's gear and the will to use it. The pod door bays open as the craft uncloaks and the craft can now be seen and heard. Men descend from the heavens onto the battlefield as Maverick begins to take their offense against the mutants on a larger scale now.

Advanced jets seeming too advanced for most men to carry drop invisibility cloaks as they cruise through the sky at "only" mach 3 as they tracked their targets. As Bradshaw falls with his men he pulls his parashoot, listens to radiochatter and watches the show as he floats down on a skyscraper.

"Ninja one to Alpha one. Strike package acknowledged. Engaging marked targets."

What appears to be mindless destruction is in reality, a series of precision strikes against tagged targets. Metahumans and mutants deemed to dangerous to be left alone. They currently evaded striking such targets as "The Alpha mutant" @jack_ and what people called the hulk (@roosevelt). They knew of them. They were briefed on their targets,and sought to not strike the Alpha mutant out of the fact that their super-powerful explosives would just make him even stronger. Their lack of knowledge on the hulk's motives and presence of civillians caused them to with hold attacking the beast.

Floated down onto the roof with his men as he looked into the air. As quickly as the jets arrived they seemingly disappeared. Unable to be seen, or even heard with even the most acute of senses. Meanwhile, Bradshaw and his men readied themselves for whatever threat they may be sent after...

...Or whatever threat may come to them.

@solarius:

Concrete was as tough as a pillow to Atrocity, his gaze perpetual, his lips taciturn, his flurry of ire ethereal. A maelstrom of fists slashed, cleaved, overwhelmed, drilled and lacerated through lines and lines of soldiers, there were no victims, simply casualties of war. Forgiveness, once so present in his vocabulary, for an abusive, befuddled parent, a callous, rock-hard mother. He learnt it with his brother, perhaps the most noble and gentile man he would ever cross paths with. The same tossed into a ditch, a well for strayed souls and lost desires. Along with children, women, elders. People who didn't even have the power to withstand a bullet.

He could take them all for them, though. Repay their suffering.

Repay his suffering.

He had no time to mourn, wilderness maimed any logical Apollo inside his head. The scatterbrained, comical geek was now a beastly, bloodthirsty executioner. His girlfriend, his school mates, his latter life, nothing passed through the vacuum in-between his eyes. Not a single bead shed for his loss, he transferred all the sore into physical matters rather than psychological. Slamming skulls together until his fingers could feel the marrow trickling its way down sluggishly. A sadistic delight, a prohibited fruit in a quiescent paradise. He wouldn't admit, yet it felt marvelous. As, despite all the storm, that eerie grin was actually truth, not unlike a veiled desire. A tamed beast spreading its arms as the human sprawled in its claws.

The soft voice endeavored to wake him up, to cease that madness. The improbable madman stood still, fingers stained just as his costume. Some droplets dared to rhythmically throb against the floor, befalling from his hair, hands and protective glasses. In his hand, a soldier wheezed heavily as forceful fingers leisurely squirmed their way through the helmet. She asked for peace, and although they didn't fall, he could almost sniff the tears on the air. He stared at her a few moments before allowing a lunatic chuckle escape his lips.

The laughter of the lost.

"You said it yourself, 'murder begets murder'. But, now I ask you, did ANY of them show any compassion while they put a bullet in my brother's skull and tossed him in that massive grave? Did they show ANY compassion when they slaughtered women... even children!" He paused for a moment, almost convicted to let the soldier escape.

Almost.

"I SAW THEY LAUGH IN THE FACE OF THE DEAD! THEY SPAT AND CURSED AS IF IT WAS NOTHING BUT ROUTINE!" His yells resound for a while, the destruction trail is... really apparent... and aggrandizing. With an expeditious push, he ripped the man's skull out of his body, tossing it aside and painting the streets even more. "So I am laughing at their deaths and making it my routine." A sickening vision pursued the last expelled words. As his tongue rasped the surface of the skull and feasted in its fresh blood, the wicked Atrocity had no way back. Mankind gets what it paid for.

"If you don't want to fight, flee. Otherwise, I can't say your head will be in the same place as always."

@atrocity_:

Solaris sighed. I won't let this happen again. This time I can do something about it...even if it has to be one fight at a time. Solaris was sad, but she was also growing furious and there was no fury in all the universe like an enraged star. Even in her anger though she held back, she could wipe him out in an instant, reach out with so much heat it wouldn't even vaporize him, he'd just stop existing. She could level the whole block that way...but she was better than that. Solaris had a rule, a very important rule. She would not kill. It was too easy for a star to kill.

She was done talking now, they were beyond help, beyond sanity. He spoke of random people on the street as if they had been present when the massacre happened. They acted as if slaughtering innocents was somehow different because the innocents were other than them. It was racism, pure and simple racism, built on a lie and a misconception, the belief that all Humans were equally racist...again...that too was racism. In her vast and ancient mind Solaris remembered the final days of her children, the way they had torn at one another as their world burned around them. Always in the name of justice. He thought he knew genocide, he had not begun to see genocide. Events she had witnessed while a star made the recent mass murder look like work place violence.

When the beam came it was without warning and she bracketed her target. Beams of pure, unadulterated star energy shot from her eyes and hands, one beam focused on his torso while the beams from her eyes caressed the street in front of and around him. The eye beams reduced the street to molten material that flowed freely from a deep wound too wide to simply step across or even jump across with any relative ease. A beam shot from her other hand as well, this one sliced through the air above his head, ionizing it with its passage. All of the attacks came as one. All but one beam was designed to bracket him while the other, the one aimed for his torso, was cut back in power, reduced so he might live until she knew the level of his durability. Even with the beam reduced it was like getting hit by an oven, hot enough to blister skin on contact and set clothing on fire, but not hot enough to kill. She could of course, that much was obvious from the other beams, each of which was many millions of degrees hotter than Earth's own sun.

@solarius:

Heat exuded from her being, it was as inherent as chained potential was to him. He was vigorous, nimble, a blur when he so wanted, yet his main attribute was that of durability. He was no human. No superhuman. Those were merely conceptions of lesser durable beings. Many would say that was his original mutation, anything nigh invulnerability, the uttermost punch-bag, except this one would punch, kick, pummel and even crunch back. He put too many strings, entangled himself into them and simply allowed those to limit his powers. He was harsh and adamant potential just waiting to be sharpened and hurled at his victim.

The waves came like a clobbering hammer, straight on his chest, burning through the gift. The suit he would have used to surprise his brother and, perhaps, one day be worthy of a fame like his. Yet Apollo was no longer trailing a honorable path, he was no longer young. It was as if death oldened his jovial countenance, sucked in his mind and substituted it with unbreakable barriers of suffering and rage.

The warmth keeps on.

He finds himself amid some molten material, it's hot, but never hot enough. His system wouldn't allow him to evaporate, his revenge wouldn't allow him to turn into another dusty poof. The speechless screeches leaving his mouth did nothing. And, at the end of the attack, he stood upright quite stoic, unlike his acts. The beam was powerful, the others seemed more, yet there was nothing to think about. She was on the way.

She was dead.

In one jolt, a blind onslaught started. He used all his speed, all of it, into a straightforward dash, legs flexed and transferring the weight of the body to the upper torso after a leap around Solarius. As his nimble feet rasped the blazing asphalt, he would revert all that speed into an elbow strike, aimed at what would be the Sentient Star's spine. He was narrowly supercilious, overconfident and hard-headed, so he truly trusted that simple blow to finish off his work for him.

@atrocity_:

More power then. Solaris noted when he stood up. His viscous elbow strike connected and sent her flying into the pavement, which promptly shattered upon her impact with it. She stood just as he had though and floated up into the air to face him again, as unharmed from his blow as he was from hers. Her eyes burned like stars, painful to look at as she watched him. She simply hovered for a moment and calculated the possible damage outcomes if he was as durable as she suspected. They'd level a city block, possibly more. Not acceptable. There has to be some level of sanity in him somewhere.

"Will you listen to me for a moment?" She asked. "I'm deeply sorry for what happened to your brother, I did not know him but I am certain he did not deserve what happened to him." She floated and began to circle him slowly, but kept distance for the moment. "I have seen this all play out before..." She paused in her speech as she heard something unusual and suddenly acted on instinct. She flew to him and hit him, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shove him out of the way. A missile struck her a moment later, imparting immense force on her body and sending her flying through a building. She emerged a few moments later and floated up off of the ground again. "Will you listen to what I have to say before we resume our fight?" She asked and offered him a hand. "Let me show you something?"

She hoped that taking a missile obviously meant for him might make him pause and think, she hoped desperately that she could reach him somehow. Just one...please just one.

The blood of humans was being spilt onto the ground of American soil like a raging waterfall. The intense fighting and degree of destruction brought a small smile to the face of Envy. The mutant terrorist reveled in the conflict. He knew that the mass murder in Noc Haven didn't justify this level of a response though. He was also fully aware that his retaliation wouldn't make him and his mutant brethren more accepted as a species. Acceptance and compensation weren't the desired outcomes of this campaign of hate, however. Coexistence was never possible despite the claims that his fighting was the cause of the hate. Envy needed to prove a point. Homo-Superior would not be trifled with in any sort of manner and would take their seat as the dominant species in the world. Even if that means being atop a pile of carcasses.

His blue eyes glistened through his helmet as the explosives were being detonated in the distance. Military aircrafts flew in to drop payloads of missiles and rain down on the city in an attempt to extinguish the fighting. The armed forces were quickly being overrun and the engagement was clearly in favor of Envy's forces. It wouldn't be long before they marched through the next state and eventually the White House, but he didn't let his pride or ego dominate his intelligence as the fear of loss was still in his mind.

He was a bit surprised at the lack of opposition though. He stood unopposed himself aboard the nameless black vessel, but soon enough he was approached by a woman hovering towards him. She had implored him to cease the attack and retreat despite what had happened in Noc Haven. Her plea had fallen on deaf ears as they were left unanswered. The mutant supremacist failed to even acknowledge her presence or see her as a threat to his well being let alone his cause. Obviously angered by his cockiness, her fists glowed into a blinding white light as she began to strike at the hulls of the ships with astonishing quickness.

Confident in her abilities to sink the ships, she and her comrades had forgotten the single most important crucial detail that was what began this war. They were unregistered mutants. They were unpredictable and so were their gifts. Under the right leadership, Envy's leadership, they were a devastating force to be reckoned with. Her efforts were valiant, but did not slow the fleets approach as a young woman aboard had the ability to manipulate the temperature of water had began to freeze the bay over, creating an icy path for them to continue.

Envy leapt in a remarkable acrobatic vault away from the deck and onto the ice. Ignoring the would be hero that had attacked them. He sprinted in a perfectly coordinated dash towards land with his Vibranium talons unsheathed and a sword still strapped to his back. The atrocity that was the mutant war in NYC was now even clearer to his eyes as he closed in onto the docks. His intention was a 'peaceful' march to the nations capital and decapitate the president with his own claws. Were humans going to be killed during the trek? Sure, and that was a conciliation prize, but the havoc they had wreaked was far greater than Envy could have imagined. It was glorious. It wouldn't be long before the fighting was over here, and they moved closer to their destination. As they would travel, so would the carnage.

@solarius: @atrocity_:

As opposed to doing battle with the city's aggressors, Satar did as his altruistic spirit insisted, and lent his helping hand to those in need, to the helpless civilians that fled from the flames of war. Thick layers of smoke blemished the sky, fissures and craters scarred the pavement, and the scent of blood hung in the air as the Djinn Dragon teleported from street to street, gathering those he could and evacuating them by teleporting them to safer parts around the globe where they could be medically treated. It was a gradual, even strenuous effort. But one he was glad to make. These people needed a hero, a savior. Not a warrior. The process resumed with Satar doing his best to teleport as many of the surrounding civilians as possible.

There was a moment however, as brief as it was, when his attention was drawn to something else. Turning his head, his sapphire gaze focused on a particular area of the city. The air seemed hotter there, scorched by the consequences of the hyper-velocity of a superhuman battle. The ground seemed to quake there and yield to the power of whichever beings had engaged one another. Returning his attention to his priorities, Satar evacuated all he could before finally setting his sights on the ebullient bout nearby. It was painful to see a city burning. To see the sky filled with fire and smoke, threatening to blaze into the night and turn it red, it spurred him on. For an attosecond, insignificant to most, time froze as it surrendered to the Marid Djinn's power.

For that tiny, temporal pause, the smoke lied still in the sky, the fire's rampage suspended, and all that filled the air was halted. Only for an attosecond. Afterwards, the flow of time resumed and Satar emerged from an airborne portal several feet from the battling warriors. He hovered in the air, his black gi and white scarves fluttering along the hot air as an expression of earnest melancholy fell upon his beautiful features as his ears registered the one woman's words as she sought to reason with the teenage mutant. Sincerely, Satar hoped her words would succeed. Resorting to violence was not his intention, but if required, he would not hesitate. Taking one life to save an entire population was not something he had qualms with.

Deserted NY Office;
Several moments later.

Frank was still standing alone on the upper office balcony, one hand on the handrail whilst closely monitoring the grand mayhem in the streets with full-spectrum binoculars. Every waking moment introducing more and more variables into his greater plan. Now, they weren't the only force responding to the threat. But now, most of the mutant armada also continued their push towards the harbor.

Suddenly the whole building begins to violently shake and bend away from the J.F.K. airport. The sheer kinetic shockwave sent out from the direction almost moving Frank himself. After a few moments it all stops and the building settles.

"Was that a f*&kin' nuke?", he rhetorically inquires upon setting sights at a mushroom cloud now in place where once was the NY airport. Frank forgot how destructive the mutants can be when left unchecked. One of them throws a tantrum and half a city goes up in flames. (@ult_azrael)

"Update report.", Frank angrily orders the com-centre through his earpiece. At the same time he outstretches his free arm with only an outstretched thumb. He follows by placing the thumb over the mushroom cloud on the horizon to see if he and his canine companion were out of the radiation fallout. Luckily, the blast was smaller than the real deal.

"Complete madness, Sir. Our forces in the harbor are being revived...end of the good news. The airport was wiped, lost 2 Guillotine teams on site. Over 7000 casualities...The heavy hitters arrived on the scene. Sir...We are hoplessly outgunned it would be wise to--", the young com-officer attempts to reluctantly advise but is swiftly cut off.

"We ain't doing this, kid. Not now.", Frank leashes out. He wouldn't listen, because he knew it very well himself. There was no way any army can stand up to the assault of such magnitude. The mutants could level cities in a whim, bullets ricochet of their skin and words won't calm them down. "Harbor report."

"Forces are still clustered by the end of the harbor. No casualities. So far, they are holding back any muties on site. However, General Lannister ordered an airstrike on...", the mechanical tap of keyboard is heard through the comm as the officer accesses the M.A.M.A. database and in mere moments he pulls out the identity out of the sea of metahuman data. "...Trevor Roosevelt, Sir. A.K.A. The Hulk. He's intact though and was fighting off the mutant forces before dividing the battlefield into two fronts. The mutants themselves are stuck on the further end of the harbor. Also, Envy and his troops are crossing the frozen bay." (@roosevelt)

"HEI Air-Raid. Immediately. Aim into the thick of the mutant mass on the ice. Sink 'em or kill 'em, either way they ain't crossing over to the harbor. Tell the troops to provide fire support to the big guy... and don't f*&kin' hit him.", wasting no time and showing no second throught Frank orders the officer to dispatch jets into the location, loaded with high-explosive incendiary missiles. But he also plays around the Hulk to keep him from fighting the resistance forces.

New York Bay.
Now.

The three 5.0 generation fighter jets, all F-35 Lightning II, kept in the area recieve the order and immediately take off into the bay. Their super-sonic whistle would be heard too late as they spot the mutant mob on the ice. (@_envy_)

Roughly at Mach 3 they cover several miles in mere moments before circling around and appearing behind the mutant fleet. They would now proceed to take aim and descend a bit to improve their accuracy, before flying over the mob.

What would come next would be a hail of highly destructive HEI missiles from the three jets. All missiles sown tactically along the path of the mob, they would violently tear apart every member of the extremist fleet who did not sport superhuman durability due to the sheer nature of the ammunition. And even those who would survive would find themselves swimming in the melted ice, providing the resistance with another tactical advantage.

The three jets, after flying over the heads of the opposition and distibuting death, would then tilt up in unision by the wall of rubble dividing the harbor and return to the base to refuel and rearm.

@jack_

Stark’s eyes widened in amazement as his foe acrobatically avoided his strikes with the finesse and grace of the finest gymnast, narrowly avoiding the chemical weapon and cryogenic beams, whilst putting to shame any Olympian with his instinctive reflexes and speed, Stark however, simply assumed this meant that his weaponry utilized would affect Alpha, otherwise, why would he have evaded?

Info from various military and law agencies stated that he could absorb kinetic and other forms of energy. No missiles, explosives, incendiaries or punches were to be thrown by Stark this day. He did however, hope his Trion-tipped bullet’s would prevail, if fired. Sharper than a needlepoint due to their infinitely sharp points, sharpened to an atomic scale.

Like an arrow could go through a (Kevlar) vest, the technological titan hoped his bullets would bypass the energy absorption abilities of his foe and penetrates. But this was only to deliver the primary goal.

The trion-coated bullets were for penetration, coating a substance known as carbonadium, once carbonadium enters the body it can cause a variety of damaging and potential lethal effects, it is highly radioactive and objects composed of it have proven to slow accelerated healing, and even stunt them completely. It can cause rapid radiation sickness and shut down organs and if not extracted, can cause constant damage until death.

To fire any however, first, he would need to survive.

“Arg!” Stark roared, even his senses has been unable to predict the man’s frantic and speedy return as his arms clamped around the Mechanical Maestro with an almost unbreakable hold. As Alpha initiated his brutal and potentially lethal attack, even the Trion coating of his Virillium armor started to crack, and weaken, unable to fight against the sudden reduction of motion within its molecular structure, it simply faltered. Trion absorbed energy, and amplified it.

However, it was also able to vibrate it’s atoms to super-heat bullets and penetrate tough armors; but vibrating against an opponent such as Alpha was foolish, not only would he absorb the counter-measure, but he would use it against Stark, with his unforeseen, yet upcoming Takedown.

--Sir, Trion exoskeleton compromised, rapid reduction of temperature causing Trion metal to become brittle, extreme caution advised—

With a snarl, the Merchant of Death felt his body suddenly heat up, the Trion exoskeleton suddenly shattered into a million tiny pieces as his silver, sleek Virillium under-armor came into full view. Virillium looked, and even felt like a metal. Sometimes. But it was alive. Alive as Stark, Alive as Alpha. Alive as anyone. It was a sentient metal, or rather, sentient being which resembled a metal.

Having the ability to manipulate its own molecular structure against threat, and adapt, the Virillium used the Russian Renegade’s initial tactic against him to form a defensive. An age old defense of which the armor had employed for over 3000 years prior to Stark finding it, the ability to enter a state of molecular inactivity, and reach temperatures of absolute zero to preserve its life in a form of suspended animation, a type of extreme hibernation. Temporarily nullifying the heat generated by the Takedown.

"Arrg...." Stark croaked, feeling the armor around him slowly lose it's functioning, the Virillium having opted to saving itself (and inadvertently Stark) instead of performing an offensive. "Horizon, get us out of here...." Realizing not even his armor could stop the vibration energy forever, he needed to escape.

--But Sir, particle barrier detected, unable to teleport without picking up attached object--

"Then we'll take us both," and in a split second, Stark had teleported, possibly alongside Alpha (if he had not separated) into outer space, just out side of earth's atmosphere, without oxygen, and within a vacuum, the past president could survive... But could his opponent?

New York City

Aleksei felt his foe crumbling under his relentless assault, a particle grip that would destroy the very molecule's of his enemy's advanced suit. Slowly but surely, he had withered the fantastic defense that encompassed the Ex-President, his hands glowing with pure destructive power. Bound together by an invisible particle field, there would be no escape from the Alpha Mutant unless he willed it. He was sure there would be no way for the Technological Titan to turn this assault to his advantage.

He was wrong.

Earth's Orbit

It had taken but a second. Technologies so advanced they appeared magical created a small field, surrounding both the Merchant of Death and the Burning Bear. Apex had teleported before; they had mutant allies with the ability to move matter through reality via teleportation, and he recognized the familiar feeling of having his atoms transported across planes unknown. But never before had arrived in such a hostile destination. It was luck that he had a habit of taking a deep breath whenever he felt the unique feeling that came with teleportation. Otherwise, he would have instantly decompressed when he had found himself in his newest environment...

<Space?>

His grip on Stark never relaxed, but his own mental fortitude momentarily crumbled at the shock of being in a vacuum. His body was putting off enough heat to avoid freezing, but he could feel the cold nothingness leeching its way through his energy field. His visor, sealed to his face, had protected his eyes from the damaging effects of outer space, but he could see cracks appearing in the corners. He had kept holding his breath, but was now struggling to do so. If he opened his mouth to breathe, he would die instantly. Ergo, there was only one course of action he could take.

Turning away from the planet, he let loose a magnificent burst of crimson energy, shooting it from his eyes so as to propel himself, and Stark, towards the planet. He strained to keep his air, his body screaming for breath. His eyes darted frantically from side to side, watching as a halo of red light appeared around their combined form. They had reached the upper atmosphere now; the heat would be enough to fry any normal living being. Apex turned it to his advantage; he began absorbing the heat of re-entry, letting it strengthen him. He was glowing red once more, power leeching from his skin into the metal of Stark's suit. His red eyes bulged behind the visor, his body growing unable to cope with the stress of refusing to breathe. Any moment now he would black out...

It would be inaccurate to say that they were in free-fall. They were shooting towards the planet like a missile, a glowing ball of heat and force. They spun as they fell, a blinding corkscrew of speed that cut across the sky, lighting it up for miles on end. They weren't falling straight down, either; they would land at an angle, crash-landing from the side with enough force to propel them at least a mile. He never let go of the Technological Terror, intent on taking him down with him...

Apex had barely any time to brace himself before the ground came at them. He had but a millisecond to prepare himself for the energy absorption, his body's field colliding with the ground at terminal velocity. He bounced from the original crash site to a new one, leaving a smoking crater. He had also finally released Stark; in order to absorb the energy from the ground, he couldn't exert the same amount holding onto his foe, who would likely have fallen nearby.

He released his breath, taking as much air as possible into his tortured lungs. He lay on the ground, his body convulsing under the strain of falling from space. He coughed intensely for a minute, a horrible hacking noise that came from deep within his respiratory system. Unless he could see a mutant healer, he'd never breath the same way again.

<Now...I just have to make sure...he doesn't breathe ever,> thought the Russian Renegade. His breathing was still disturbed, and his thoughts came in what could only be described as bursts, but his actual form was still as strong as ever. His cells were overcharged with kinetic energy from the fall, and his visor sparked with power. He stood up slowly, emerging from a pained crouch. Experimentally, he clenched and unclenched his fists, checking to make sure his muscles were all intact. He knew not where they had landed, only that it was clearly somewhere inhabited, and on land. He spotted a highway in the distance, and there were trees all around. Content that his body was still highly functional, he coughed again, a wheezing noise that made him close his eyes.

<Great. Now I have this to deal with, too, for the time being.>

Finally summoning the will to rise from the crater he had created, he strode to the top, turning to inspect his surroundings, searching for any sign of his latest rival.

@anthony_stark

@_envy_: @maverick_6@_ulysses_

Sometimes people needed a little push to gain a moment of clarity, particularly Time Siphons. That little push came as she chased after her green nemesis and she suddenly found a missile on her tail. She was going to ignore the missile, let it hit her armor and send her through a building...but a little voice broke through the hunger barrier in her mind. It will kill hundreds of innocent people.

Raeyn cursed under her breath and pulled up short in her flight and rapidly accelerated the flow of time for herself. The result was reducing everything else around her to slow motion. She reached out and touched the suddenly slow moving missile and aged it into oblivion. Rescue the city. That voice again. She hesitated, the little voice in her mind and the never ending predatory nature of her species fighting their constant war for control of her morality. Eventually she came to a compromise...if she could get powerful enough in saving the city she could use that power to track down and defeat her adversary, who now seemed to be fighting two other individuals.

Time Siphon rocketed up out of the streets and shot towards the bay where mutant forces were crossing over newly frozen water. Much of the ice was soon shattered by missile strikes but Time Siphon knew better than to expect that to stop the assault. She flew to an emptied sky scraper and touched its side, focusing on its temporal line and drawing it to herself. The building aged before anyone who happened to be watching, slowly withering away until it fell apart and its components fell to dust before they could hit the ground. More memory shards snapped into place and she flew to the bay. Her range had increased but it was still far less significant than it had been in Tokyo.

Time Siphon flew out above the bay and held her hands palm out at her sides and reached out with her mind. She coiled around the temporal lines of every mutant in the approaching force. All but the most powerful were unaware of what was transpiring, but the most powerful, such as @_envy_ could feel something was deeply wrong. The sensation was akin to the old saying of 'someone walking over your grave,' an unnatural shiver that ran down the spine and raised the hairs on the back of the neck, an uneasy feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

The process started with the least powerful in the bay first, they aged and withered in seconds and so it spread from the advancing front like a horrible plague, sweeping backwards through the army at an ever increasing pace. Each mutant that died accelerated the process and strengthened Raeyn. There were seconds to intervene before the plague of aging would become an unstoppable tsunami. Already hundreds were dead, but there were thousands to go.

Time Siphon didn't expect to be able to consume the entire army, they were mutants and one of them would eventually attack her and force her to back off, but it would slow their advance and help re-balance the battle.

@frank_scaletta

"Sir, initial salvo is ineffective," the tech stopped himself from saying 'as usual'.

"Evacuation progress?"

"Six blocks out as discussed earlier. Some isolated incidents, and the mutants are gaining ground,"

"We're not here for the damn mutants. We're here for Hulk. Even if New York City is laid bare, and the White House is within marching distance for those terrorists, it won't compare to the devastation Hulk is capable of. The mutants can burn our flags, take our cities, and claim our land. But we can fight back. It's a war at that point, a war we're very likely to win given time and resources,"

Abraham's shoulders started to quake in his great anxiety.

"If left unchecked, however, Hulk can sink this entire continent into the ocean. Send in the rest of the bombs. I want to see the ground burn white."

---

Now that the tracer Sulley implanted gave the roaming drones deployed by the HULK Corps a sample of where their target could be, they managed to lock onto the beast given the first salvo. No more mistakes like the one Stark cleaned up after now. A distant thunder roared. The angels were coming to scorch the earth.

---

Forty seconds.

The equivalent of four-thousand tons of explosives were dropped in synch, all at once, on top of Hulk's head. Luckily, no civilians were caught in the crossfire. At this point, Manhattan stood as part ghost town and part crazed mob as its population still poured out of its cramped quarters. No errant missiles escaped from the trajectory set by the HULK Corps' computers this time. The shockwaves alone broke every window within that six block radius Lannister set for the evacuation squads. For a split second, perhaps the ground did glow a subtle white.

But the sounds of a struggle still existed within the cloud of smoke and fire.

Hulk still stood in the aftermath, and he was angrier than ever before.

---

@_envy_

That anger only became hammered in once a chill air blew in from the sea. So too, did the tide of war refresh. Hulk turned his attention from the palpable hate of an unseen enemy to the physical presence of a former ally. With the makeshift wall behind him, Hulk grew slightly more confident in his ability to contain the chaos - even with Lannister's constant interference. Though the barricade now stood in shambles partly because of the barrage having immediately settled, Hulk had other ways of protecting the innocent from the gruesome face of conflict.

And one of those ways remained in taking the fight to the snake's head.

Gaining another burst of momentum in his ponderously huge footsteps, Hulk aimed himself at the mutant leader like an enormous green wrecking ball. However, that came to an abrupt conclusion once a team of mutants dedicated to protecting their commander emerged from the crowd rushing towards the city. These were properly-equipped telekinetic masters, having projected a shield to deflect anything ranging from ballistics to truly huge opponents looking to shake the offensive at its core.

Of course, there were probably many more of these bodyguards hidden within the mass. Only time would tell.

Hulk's temporary stop quickly became a nightmare for those looking to contain him. Still about a good distance from his preordained target, Hulk dug his fingers into the concrete at his feet and pulled. Hundreds of thousands of tons of rock and earth immediately answered his call to be uprooted. The entire bay area of Manhattan ripped apart and became airborne for a short time. Showing no sign of strain or slowing down, Hulk instead displayed an ever-increasing amount of physical dominance once mutants possessed of superhuman strength tried tackling him into the pit he had just gouged out. These attempts were met with inches of precious ground being lost to the green giant until he stood on the very edge of where he wanted to be.

His infinite rage could be felt in the air as he shouted his next few words, the iconic phrase for a paragon of destruction.

"HULK - SMASH!"

Perhaps the sudden changes in pressure could be accounted for the physics involved. Like breaking a sheet of glass over a table, Hulk folded the land back into the cavernous hole he dug out. Whether the mutant offensive still stood on solid ground or not, it would come crashing down around and underneath it as the monolithic chunk of cityscape became little more than a collection of boulders, a cascading avalanche that would rise back out of the ground once more thanks to the catastrophic momentum involved - and then back down, taking with it any mutant caught in the surge of unfathomable power.

Hulk still carried with him the handfuls of stone he used to enact this show of impossible strength. Completely stunned, the mutants surrounding him were easily knocked unconscious with a swift uplifting of Hulk's arms and an even swifter return to form once he brought them back down.

A dense smoke escaped the many cracks in the earth, the battlefield turned from solid to impassible in an instant.

Ashes swirled in the wind her act of terror wasn't countered and nobody came for her. Sad state of the city was that conflict was everywhere and there were so many dangers that nobody seemed to notice her much. Well that's not true a rocket was sent her way, fast but not fast enough for the military veteran who'd trained for assaults on humanity like this. Her mind reached out and gripped the rocket while also looking for the most populated area nearby.

On the highway was many people trying to drive away half led to the airport half away but acidents were starting to happen as they tried to make every lane one that leads away. Cars packed to a point that they were hardly moving. Some people even chose to leave the car on climb out and just start running. But then the rocket struck the base of the bridge shattering it's support. It falls and with it so many people, metal grinds against metal and concrete slams into the earth. Many would survive not to many died but several were wounded and trapped and the imagery gave the walking atom bomb another idea.

Of course her plan was disrupted as a series of police cars circled her abruptly. Well not so abrupt there sirens were so aparent but she hadn't done anything to escape them. Doors opened aim was taken and they began to bark orders. What they didn't notice was they were not seeing the world as it was but how Az wanted. They were turned ever so slowly not realizing that Azra's telepathy had them pointing guns at eachother instead of her. Suddenly her hands began to radiate and endanger the police opened fire. Each cop fell with a bullet in their brain. And with that another small explosion went off rocketing the crimson elite away. There would be no burial of the bodies they were ash now. Yield of that explosion was small but still rose that signature cloud. And with that cloud terror.

Think what such a sight is known for. A thirty mile scar on the world, destruction that didn't resonate as an act of war so much as something that felt apocalyptic that fealt like some monstrosity befell the world. Nobody wanted another incident such as Hiroshima and yet here there was two clouds teasing disaster. These explosives Az caused were small in comparison, but any one with half a clue could tell it could reach more. But why simply destroy? Disasters were tragic what Azrayne wanted was not just a disaster, she wanted a sight that triggered nightmares. A sight that said humanity could be no more then a tortured plaything if they fought back.

Her armored feet touch the earth a mile away from the airport bombing. Another explosion goes off. Houses are obliterated shadows of people are burned into walls a haunting reminder. Lives vanish in the blink of an eye. Again she whisps through the air and falls. Again that most dreaded of explosions go off. It's small only yards instead of miles but that is almost frightening. Azra had the people under her thumb, some could say the city. Slightest thought and an explosive yield might come that leveled the city. And with that explosion the siren of detonation was sent further in the city.

All she was doing was bouncing toward the Washington bridge. That was it, just traveling the city. For every step however rose a cloud of frightening promise. What was three mushrooms became five and then it was six and then seven and so on. What followed her was a trail of completely leveled structures of obliterated homes and lives simply washed away in nuclear fire. At almost any hour there was thousands crossing the bridges of NYC. Bigger the bridge more people. And with the conflict at hands those bridges were flooded with cars and people. Extraction was slow work in a city like this and she was heading for that fact. How many lives might vanish if the thermonuclear fatale made it to her destination?

@satar: @solarius

She wasn't flesh and bone, not like those squishy soldiers splattered throughout the many alleys. Violence was no longer an option for Apollo, it was no alien sentiment, no uncomfortable churning on his stomach. To his eyes, to his hysterical mind, enclosed fists were brushes, blood was paint. He would graffiti the roads into a masterpiece with his riotous dance of annihilation, where no man could stand. All the words, all the predicaments caused by his anarchic rampage... Those weren't shameful.

Heinous was lowering himself to the same level as those savage and uncivilized barbarians.

A second figure silhouettes itself of thin air, folded arms, ostensibly placid demeanor. A star-like dazzling hand protrudes from the abyss, claiming his name with august whispers. Solarius' faith was remarkable and, nonetheless, admirable. That reverence for heroes, for those who, as Yuri, once safeguarded innocents of all evil, justifiable or not, neutralized his acidic acrimony for a jiffy. He bowed his head and hearkened, motionless and emotionless for an entire minute. More like an eternity inside his thoughts. A sour taste betwixt his lips, edged in a reflective mood.

Sharpened words sliced him open as a proficient cavalier would. He could not backfire, barely state his mind as he was shoved out of the way of a projectile. His lips mumbled something his voice didn't carry out and a crystalline tear rolled down his cheek. His brother was gone... Gone. And every pause seemed like a freighter had just ran over him, overwhelmed by perception he did not fully comprehend.

In a nimble dash, impelled by intimidating tenacity of his legs, Atrocity arched upwards, transmitting all that impulse into the flight. Cocking his fists hastily, he aimed to blitzkrieg not the lady carrying the bomb, yet the bomb itself. After all, it was aimed to explode on its target, wasn't it? "Shut up, okay? SHUT UP! Don't. You. F*cking. Mention. Him!" He did not want to hit her, it was crystal-clear. He did not condemn nor condone her actions, but if he needed to do it, there would be no strings attached to him.