Legion steps off a ship at a dock, along with some U.N. forces. The move some captured pirates, who had attacked their ship on the way their, off the ship. ""What do we do with them, sir?" one of the soldiers say, poking one of the pirates with the butt of his rifle. "We have a prison set up here, we'll just have to hold them their until they can get a proper trial." Charles says. "You heard him, move!" another soldier says, leading the pirates forward. As they approached the nearest
Ravens town, a pirate made a run for it into an alley. "I got him, you keep the others on hold." Charles darts down the alley, but is welcomed by gunfire. More so than usual. He stops, back to a wall, and looks around the corner. The pirate was dead on the ground, and a large group was standing over him. He recognized them as Ravens, a rogue mercenary group. "This must of been what we were called in for." He thinks to himself before running back.
He finds his troops standing around, with the pirate on their knees. "What happened? Where is the escapee?" A French trooper asks. "Let them go, their low on our priorities right now. Back to the ship!" The troops did as instructed and followed their commander down to docks. They make it to their ship, but a rocket is launched from mainland. Fire engulfs the vessel, and it is taken by the ocean. A few minutes later, Charles surfaces. He drags himself up onto the boardwalk, lifting his shield onto the wood. He breathes a bit before taking out his communicator. "Omega, we've been attacked." He receives no response. "Dammit." he shakes his head before grabbing his shield and running to the mainland. He had to do something about this.
Regally projecting a sense of command Minister Cavat sat quietly behind his desk hands clasped on the table in front of him. Disturbing reports pertaining to the escalating civil unrest in the countries pirate invested province of Somalia had initiated an unexpected wave of sympathetic pleas from his congregation demanding their Messiah step in and take action. If her were to maintain his methodically manifested persona as the nations saving grace he had little option but to present himself as a bridge for negation. Removing himself from physically partaking in the maturing violence landing on the shores of Somalia. But as he reached into the bottom drawl of his oak polished desk removing a black ring baring a strange insignia, he smiled. For that ring was a conduit in which the Martial Arts Messiah could summon and control his dark cult of resurrected Grandmasters through the perversions of his Chi. As a self-proclaimed man of the people Cavat could do little but offer sermons and combat the evil with words. But as the Exiled Keijijo, the Sifu of the Pandora Shadow Clan, he was the evil.
Returning to his legendary clan's secluded monastery complex in the harsh, unforgiving mountains of Japan, the undisputed Keijijo Impero walks past the towering gates of Reisho and into the populated compound of esoteric martial practices. Greeted by a host of celebratory cheers and respectful displays of endearment, the enigmatic Grandmaster fails to verbally address his obedient followers, merely acknowledging their undeniable presence with formal nods and calm hand gestures. With various prioritizing thoughts clouding his mind, the masked Impero quickly makes his way towards a prominent towering structure surrounded by a radiant aura of luminous microscopic orbs of ambient metaphysical energy. Calmly entering the culturally significant tower, Impero meets with the Keijijo Elders in a ceremonial room of intense spiritual concentration. Silently seating himself before them, he removes his legendary mask, making apparent his prominent facial scar. Gently setting the Impero Mask down before him, he addresses them. "I come to you with relevant knowledge".
Curious, they ask him to proceed. "The rumors surrounding Oni's supposed return, they are not mere rumors. He is alive and driven by vengeance", he revealed. "And your reaction... did you attempt to save him?", they asked, suspiciously unsurprised at the momentous revelation. "I did not", Impero admitted with an absolute lack of hesitation. "Respectfully Impero, we suggest that you attempt to cleanse him of his dark-", quickly, they were interrupted. "No disrespect gentlemen but I will not. As the Keijijo leader, I will take a course of action that I believe... forgive me... know that is the right course of action. I will say to you what I said to him. You cannot cure the dark side. You can only destroy it". Intent on locating the Exiled Keijijo and putting an end to the manipulative mastermind, the enigmatic Impero's objective lies not simply within loyalty to his clan, but the potential interference that Oni may present in regards to his mysterious plans.
Ever since the 80's crime organizations have been on the rise, Milton knew of this even before he snapped and went criminally insane. The newspapers said it is because of the widespread globalization of the world economy and mass communications which made everything possible. He has even discussed with fellow faculty members about various things such as easily accessible travel, world trades and transnational financial transactions that makes expansion easier between more countries and regions. Not to mention the economic, social and political countries between places like Liberia, Ghana and Nigeria. On this they Milton decides to tackle Nigeria because its criminal org is the biggest in comparison to the others, operating in more than eighty countries worldwide.
Both aggressive and expansionist in their drug traffic and financial frauds, which makes it a very viable target for him. He brings a video cam so that the video can be streamed live across the internet. The fact that they deliver heroin from southeast and southwest asia into Europe and U.S. and cocaine from South America into Europe and Sough Africa alone will give the man recognition and a bump in the underworld , not to mention it would also give them a large enterprise from large population in India, Pakistan Thailand for more than 90% of the world's heroin production. Even without the drugs their financial frauds are legendary, with an estimate cost of one to two billion a year.
"Pity Rolf couldn't make it here, but at least I got you Ratger" Milton sat on a chair as his bodyguard is torturing a Gang affiliate
-teleported. And Kratesis stood on the blood soaked ground of Somalia. With the 'Bamf' of displaced air her Strigidae stood around her. Their inky black cloaks swallowing all light, and their golden goggles gleaming in their ghastly glow.
Kratesis had left her golden mask and royal purple robes elsewhere. Today she dressed in simple garb, pants, a blouse, no shoes. Her hair waved gently in the warm winds, the platinum blond and crimson mix gorgeous in the sunlight. By all appearances she seemed a beautiful young woman.
But she wasn't of course.
Kratesis and her guard of Strigidae stood upon a place now empty, tall grass waving gently in the wind. Africa was a land of great natural beauty and it showed in the deep blue skies, long horizon and lovely fields that stretched out around them in all directions.
But it was not always so. Once a small village had stood here, and its people live a meager yet peaceful existence. Yet that changed in one night of horrific terror, torture, mutilation, violet rape, and eventually death.
Their feet stood upon the mass grave. One hundred and fifty six lives ripped away in seven terrible hours. Seven hours of hell on earth.
Those one hundred and fifty six lives had bleed away their lifesblood into the soil they now stood upon. Their torment seeping out into the soil, unavenged, unloved, ignored by the world.
But not by Kratesis. These deaths were a symbol. A symbol of the true nature of mankind. When a government was weak, when it could not control its people these atrocities happened. The reason she found quite simple. People were beasts, vile, evil, despicable beasts and they would commit horrific acts against one another for pleasure if given half the chance.
She knelt upon the ground, and brushed aside the grass with a pale hand. A glowing cube she places upon the ground. She called it the Quantum Cube, for it was the focus and enabler of her Quantum Sorcery.
The ability to reach down into the very building blocks of reality, the elements which made up atoms, energy, and more. The very building blocks of life itself.
She closed her eyes and rested both palms across the small cube. The world faded away as she focused. Focused upon a realm of q-states, of supersymmetry, of gauge interactions, of thermodynamic future states, of time and of space.
It took all of her quantum mind to manage even the smallest of interactions, for even she had limits. For this reason the Strigidae had come to act as her bodyguards in this moment of statistical destiny.
She reached out through time, through space, through energy and matter, and all the things which make up a soul. She reached out and gathered together the dead from the annihilation of the grave. She gathered them, and molded them and drew them up.
Up through cosmic forces, up through quantum states, up through atoms, through molecules, up... up.... up until a muddy face slithered from the very dirt under her feet.
Eyes closed she leaned forward and pressed her lips to its lips. Her lungs breathed out..
..and it breathed in. It breathed in life, true life, life to the one hundred and fifty six souls, life to their forgotten blood, life..
"Were gonna skin ya alive, American bast#rd!" One of the well-armed mercenaries yells. Charles sits behind a wrecked car, loading an sub machine gun. "Keep talking, friend! I could use some conversation!" Charles yells back. "Oh your gonna-" before the raven could finish his sentence, Legion darts up, and fires a burst of rounds. The mercenary's armor deflected some bullets, but he was caught in the shoulder. "Heads up!" Legion's shield goes flying through the air hits the merc right in the face, knocking him to the ground. Charles stands up and runs over the ruined streets. He lifts his shield after examining the mercenary. He was unconsciousness. He shakes his head and stands up, looking about. The area had turned into a war zone. He lifts his communicator up. "Omega, do you read?" He hears some static and some fractures of voices. Something was jamming the signal. "Alright, if anyone can hear this, Somalia has turned into a war zone. UN officers have been killed, and I require reinforcements." he hears more static and puts the device away. It was time to find the source of the disturbance.
He walked off, through an gas station abandoned when the fighting started, looking for some place quiet. He takes a seat on a bench, laying his shield to the side. He closes his eyes and listens. His echolocation heard the sounds flames, explosions and gunfire in the distance, and.... something else. Something in the air. The sounds of something... atomic. It wasn't in the town, it was off someplace in a lonely area... it was more than likely the cause. He opened his eyes up and looks in the direction of the sounds. He lifts his shield and starts running.
It was sometime before he began to see a loss of civilization and an gain of nature in the landscape. A pale, grassy area. He didn't see any roads in sight. However, some remnants of buildings were around. Some old village, long since gone by the looks of it. He crosses over a light hill, and immediately drops to the ground. Some hundred feet away, a small group of people stood. They resembled some sort of cult. Black cloaks. Among them, a young woman. "Did I just stumble on to a freaking virgin sacrifice?" he thinks to himself. He wasn't aware of how wrong he was.
As the girl did her bizarre ritual, he could hear more of those sub-atomic sounds... This was it. He stood up, feeling his SMG on his waist and lifting his shield just in front of him. He had made it within a hundred feet of the nearest Strigidae when the Earth sent up it's beast. A creature of mud. Charles jumped backward, likely breaking any form of surprise he may of had on the situation. "Dammit."
"I've spent only a few days in this world this culture, or lack of one to be more exact. In this time though a woman of actual value has taken a liking to me and had me come here. I'm looking to make some aquaintances and enemies try and guide some to embrace the Coven. Thats the mission atleast.....the truth is much diffrent." Her voice was soft, a menacing whisper eyes a burning yellow. "My real ambition is to see you people bleed as im confidant none of you are a real challenge." Four men one in each corner raised an ak47 at her head, where most flench or panic the hand cuffed woman did nothing. "I heard storry once....."
"Affrica and those around it are known often for its red sands, that deep colored clay of the earth. They say it is the outcome of all our sins of all our bad deeds. We never grew much out of barbarity we killed again and again, the earth is stained by us and what we have done. The sands are red by our blood and no water will wash it away." The remaining four men withdrew their hatchets making this strange raven haired woman seem flanked on all sides. "So as you all can imagine I was hoping for something grand, I am dissapointed." Darh hair expanded and unraveled into two long tails jutting from the head. One could sense the tension in the damp empty room they held the alien captive. A man was about to speak before the woman stoped him "you want to ask why would I tell you all this? It's because when I walk away the sand at my feet will be dyed red." Eyes take a moment to look at the sand on the ground of the shack before looking back at her.
Her arm snaps up and drives apart of the cuffs into the temple of the man behind her. Grip loosens and he drops the blade, which is snagged from the air and thrusted into the heart of the man at her right. Alezra moves behind the man and grabs his blade. Its thrown into the skull of the guard on the North West corner his body pinned to the wall. Bullets slam into the man who's heart was scewed. A roll brings the woman to the man on the North East a blade burried into the base of the skull before he could blink. Trigger is pulled brain squeezing the trigger at the last moment. The man in the corner of the other wall is grounded into meat as the bullets pepper his unguarded chest. Two remained which in a lightning fast motion was reduced to one, a head dropping to the sand in a soft thud. The lethal figure stepped before the last who was now on his rump in a state of panic. "I said I wanted the sands red where are you going?" The single survivor and his dead colleagues began to shake and spasm before bursting into bits. Telekenisis ripping them apart and covering the sand walls and ceiling in red. And the naturally crimson skined beauty stepped from her captive room grabbing her weapons off a guard as she went." The xenomorphic warrior bored with the enemies she had faced.
@_Legion_: The heads of the Strigidae turn toward him in perfect unison. As if synchronized by forces unknown they move in harmony to surround Kratesis, and she vanishes in a sea of inky black cloaks and softly glowing golden goggles.
The creatures of mud slithers up from the blood soaked dirt of Africa. Its mouth opens into a cavernous maw, slimy spittle flies from its lips as it groans in existential pain.
Taking its first shuffling steps it moves toward the red white and blue clad man, its dragging feet leaving trails of slippery mud on the grass. "Gggggnnnnggg..."
Charles watched the Strigidae as they moved around the girl, but turns towards the beast. Unlike the cultists, or whatever they were, it was actually approaching him and looked like it would be more of a threat. "God the people that are moving in here..." he thinks to himself.
He places his hand on his sub-machine gun slowly, aiming it. "If you have any form of intelligence, whatever you are, cease your movement." He says, with a calm, but authoritative voice. He repeats the sentence in Somali, managing to remember the country he's in. He kept one eye on the masked group. "What's next, giant robots?"
@_Legion_: Kratesis and the Strigidae vanish with the 'Bamf' of teleportation, yet the muddy Golem remains behind. Swaying on unsteady legs of slimy clay it comes to a halt.
"Wwwwwhhhyyyyy..." It groans out, a sound of inhuman misery and anguish. Its shadow seems to sway and twist as if the creature of clay's torture reaches into reality itself.
@Kratesis: "DAMMIT!" he thinks as the group teleports away. He slowly lowers his gun, though keeping it out as the monster stops. "Ohhh.... okay..." he doesn't know what to do. He keeps himself calm. "Uhh.... just... stay calm....?" the doubt was clear in his tone. He had no clue how to deal with this... creature.
Out of nowhere, his communicator rings out loudly. "Andrews? Come in, what is the situation?" Charles quickly tries to muffle the communicator, trying to keep the beast from angering. The last thing he needed was having to fight this thing, that didn't seem like fighting was what it was intending on. He tries to find a way to track the teleportation as he does it, as whoever the group was obviously were going to cause more problems elsewhere.
@_Legion_: The tremendous creature built of mud and born of blood stares at him with clay eyes the size of fists. It groans again as his communicator beeps.
"WWWWWhhhhhyyyyyyy....."
And its face splits.
Ghastly mouth dividing into two mouths, eyes separating into four eyes. Clay crawls across its body, moist and sticky as it morphs another face.. and then another and then another.
Faces grow over its entire body, mouths appearing upon its neck and hands and legs and on and on until one hundred and fifty six faces wail in terrible harmony.
@Kratesis: Charles nearly falls backward at the sight of the beast's physical shifting. He places a hand over his mouth, vomit building up. He drops his shield to the side, taking several steps back.
A sense of sadness was going through his being. The creature's agony was plain as day. This situation was getting worse by the second. Before he could react to the wailing, his communicator went off again. "We can see why you needed reinforcements. Duck down, her comes the fire."
Charles flips around. A jet was flying forward. He turned toward the creature, and thought. He swallowed his tongue and grabbed his shield. He ran away, shield held overhead. The jet fired down two missiles, napalm, toward the creature. Might be the best thing for it.
@_Legion_: The tormented being continues to wail, the depth of its suffering poring forth in a strangled cry.
Dozens of blank muddy eyes stare upon the incoming plane, confused and dazed. The missiles scream through the heavens and the explosion of napalm turns the peaceful calm of the planes into a hellish apocalypse of burning napalm gel and sticking fumes.
Great chunks of the clay creature are turned into glass by the heat, and the force of the explosion mixes the napalm gel into the mud. Transfigured from a horrific creature of slim into a magnificent figure of resplendent blue and green flames.
It staggers forward several steps on the charred ashes if its home soil, and falls to its knees. The burning faces begin to tumble from its massive bulk. Their mouths opened in silent screams, wicked flames burning forth from their mouths as they sink once more into the dirt from which they came..
..until there is only ashes and fire upon their forgotten grave.
Charles watches at a safe distance as the creature screeches. He almost cries... but he more to think about. Who were those who summoned it? What was the purpose for it? Sadistic. He takes a seat in the grass and watches the flames.
He lifts his communicator upwards. "Omega, it's down. Focus on moving forces into the urban areas."he says. "Yes sir." Charles stands up, pulling his shield over his back. "Oh, and... I'd like to go into a personal mission." "A personal mission?" "Yes. With permission?" "It's a given, soldier. Keep in touch." the communicator shuts itself off. "Time to get some answers." He says walking, more than likely trying to get across the borders of Somalia. He needed a walk.
Somehow unconvinced by their undisputed Impero's unshakable resolve, the Keijijo Elders voiced their firm disapproval of his determined objective. "...Ishin", choosing to unformally address the undeniable Grandmaster by his first name, the Keijijo Elders continued, "We do not approve of your choice. We respect your decision, however... the Keijijo philosophy is one of spiritual enlightenment. To be aware that even the darkest of people can be cleansed". A brief pause of momentary disbelief had overtaken him, prior to affectionately placing his hand on the prized Impero Mask. "Perhaps. But my obligations as the Impero of this clan supersede your obligations as our theocratic leaders", he paused, fearlessly meeting their ancient eyes with his own.
"My greatest priority is to maintain the safety and prosperity of the Keijijo, is it not?", he asked rhetorically, "As of now, Oni's intentions have made him our greatest enemy. Did he not swear to exact vengeance on us?". In spite of their supposed ethical concern for their exiled brother, the Keijijo Elder's intentions regarding their most twisted adversary were secretive. Their objective in retrieving him, it was not as it seemed. Sadly, whatever invaluable knowledge they had, they mysteriously left unknown, even to their acclaimed leader. Silence governed them as their poised Impero spoke with characteristic self-confidence. "The past Imperos.. they made clear the importance of being decisive. They made clear that should Oni ever return, it is the Impero's responsibility to kill him. Surely my elders, you are not questioning their wisdom?", he paused, allowing his charismatic words to seep into their minds. "Because if so, then perhaps the Keijijo are in need of a political revolution", he concluded sarcastically.
Leaving the room amid an atmosphere of tense silence, his iconic mask rightfully worn with storied pride, Impero departed to seek out a specialized room of metaphysical concentration. Left alone, the Keijijo Elders pondered the implications of their leader's unintentional ultimatum. "Then perhaps you are right, dearest Impero. The Keijijo are in need of a revolution", whatever mysterious knowledge they harbored of devious Oni's past remained only theirs to have. And while the commencement of their shady plots becomes inevitable, the enigmatic Impero seeks the immediate locating of Oni, undoubtedly for a destined battle-oriented encounter in Sierra Leone.
Ratger played beethoven's moonlight sonata on cassette tape as he tortures the gang leader of this turf in Nigera, the room which they are in resembles a UN tent. The 6'2 man is in the nude as does his business, licking a scalp before moving down to eat the man's right ear. Chair jolted shortly after. Body like gecko's tail. Ball-gag starting to deform. "Tyson was right"
Joshua, man claiming as one of the lords of drugs now bound, urinating in Ratger' unholy presence. Smell complimented by feces, by blood in room. This was confirmed when the wolf slid his fingers across the wooden chair to 'taste' the substance. "You need to have a better diet joshua, more greens and less meat." the wolf punches the man's crotch "Piss tastes too bitter"
Muffled screams grew more silent, yet his eyes started to look weird but then again it is to be expected when you hit a man's testicles hard enough. He can feel a 'pop' against his knuckles, the smell is definitely that of seminal fluid and that of blood. Yet joshua did not pass out, however he began jolting the chair. "Now that is the spirit, you want them to live don't you?"
The lock broke loose and the man sprang with a burst of adrenaline, a an empty window of hope as his leg was broken by Ratger. Knee bent the opposite way, the leg imitating a rooster's for a split second before the man was set tumbling to the ground. Another kick followed to the gut to remind the man of their gap.
The wolf started to move his body akin to dance, letting his arms flow to the arid air. Creating a scene as his claws create whistling sounds against the flow, sharpness that can be audibly heard. Extending one from the right hand thumb and another from the index finger, natural blades that would outshine an obsidian edge.
There is a gas burner and a cooking pan, a knife and a bottle of @1 BBQ sauce. Having tourniquets, along with a few shots of epinephrine and a scratch awl. It is ironic as five minutes ago this man claims to kill Ratger and skin him alive to wear his fur as a coat. Now the man is waiting for a very long appointment with death. "Next time you pick up an automatic, make sure it carries silver"
The wolf continued by chewing one digit at a time, removing two fingers from the left hand. "but you are not the first person to make that mistake , there was this kid in your village..." A thumb is lost, accompanied with an index finger. Ten seconds later a nose is devoured in short order, what makes it worthwhile is that Ratger applied a nice serving of barbecue sauce to the open wound."He screamed your name before I tore open his stomach, and his sister was not bad either"
To make sure that the man is not faking his entire village has been put online in a live feed across the man, his wife visually catatonic from the remains of her child. "That b*tch would not stop screaming," shown from the POV of a dozen psychos willing to do things that would make the Rwanda genocide look like 'Little Rascals'. Several interesting implements of torture are highlighted.
In pure honesty the men had already received valuable information from other sources, yet that would not be 'fun' per se. Both Milton and Ratger knew that psychological torture is the best method for extracting information, but where is the fun of locking up a man in a white room with twenty-four hours of white noise?
Prolonged mutilation is more fun, and more interesting. Another smaller videocamera is mounted on Ratger's head, on a headband. This new snuff video is getting phenomenal ratings because it is live. Premium stuff, and the fan base is one that is easy to please. A minor wanted to see removal of an eye, others posted very creative ideas.
Ratger obliged, but slipped on purpose that his nail pierced the retina deep enough to spill vitreous fluid all over the right side of the man's face. He did not waste time to pander as he stuck his tongue inside the man's eye socket, savoring the lick of internal flesh and the remainder of the clear liquid.
Using his index finger and his thumb Ratger pricked a small hole with his thumb and rotated with with the pointer, taking the motion of a vernier caliper in clockwise direction. Pulling out a medallion of flesh before throwing it to the heated pan to sizzle with the lard, it has a distinct smell. There is now a gape on the man's left cheek.
A very grisly smile that is matched by Ratger's own sardonic grin, he puts a cigarette in the open 'cut'. The clamping teeth make a fine holder of this cigarette. Might as well have a smoke before he meets whichever god he adheres to, its common courtesy.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I'm Marshall Thorpe. Our lead story tonight, Somalia. As fighting between U.N. soldiers, Somalia rebels, and unconfirmed pockets of international mercenaries, continue to battle it out in the streets in brood daylight, questions and accusations of government corruption run ramped as the country spirals out of control. What caused this outbreak of unspeakable violence? We go to our correspondent in the field, Amanda'Hugginkiss. Amanda?"
"Thank you Marshall. As you can clearly see behind me the fighting has escalated as U.N. officers forge deeper into Somalia creating a mass caravan of displaced residents as they attempt to flee to neighboring Ethiopia and Kenya. Its impossible to tell just how many civilian casualties there truly are but early reports estimate the number to be in the thousands."
"Amanda, has there been any indication as to what caused this sudden and seemingly unprovoked outbreak?"
"No Marshall, I've yet to receive any official statement from the U.N. office inMogadishu as to why, or what, caused their militarized entrance into Somalia."
"Amanda..." cut of before he could finish, Amanda interrupts.
"Sorry Marshall, but I'm now joined by Sierra Leone's controversial political activist and head of the Temple of the Midnight Garden, Abacha Cavat. Mr. Cavat can you help our audience and the World at large understand what exactly is happening here?"
"Of course Amanda" his deep voice echoing with an authoritative certainty. Replaced were his regal robes and fashionable attire, instead the Martial Arts Messiah was draped in a singular dark hooded cloak that bore no immediate significance to the viewers across the World, but to the Keijijo clan they were of a great significance. "For far to long evil has been allowed to fester here in Somalia. Birth place to pirates and terrorists who have no regard for human life. This undeniable shame is further compounded by a World unwilling to help facilitate change and outside interests knowing that a destabilized Africa is an Africa easy to exploit. Somalia just happened to be the staging ground, could have just as easily been Zanzibar, Angola, or even Sierra Leone. They come here looking for power, looking for control and dominance, but I tell you now as I tell them, they'll only find death here. Africa is a sleeping Lion no more."
Log in to comment