Present day: Mount Graham Intl. Observatory, Arizona
The LBT is the largest telescope in the contiguous United States. Doctor Anaheim has lived in the observatory for ten years, finding a false sense of security in the constants of the universe. when his wife left him, when his children disowned him, when his dog ran away chasing the car they all left in, Doctor Alphonse Anaheim always had the universe to comfort him and fill the void of his heart with the void of it's space.
He reported his findings live on the GNN news channel, a breaking news segment that the entire perceivable universe outside of our immediate solar system appeared to have literally, disappeared without a trace. It was probably the dumbfounded astonishment that led to the delayed reaction of the production team to disrupt Dr.Anaheim's signal, who in the small video window beside the anchor, urinated on the sensitive machinery then subsequently shot himself.
The other news outlets that reported on the GNN incident called the bullet that penetrated the Doctor's head "The shot that woke the world." Because from that moment forward, chaos ensued. Some of the worlds satellites picked up a strange fluctuation in the fabric of what little space still remained.
---------------------------------
Elsewhere, Beneath the rubble of Gothic City. . .
"brothers, sisters. The mockery that our tribe has endured for these many millennia has always fell on deaf ears, for we knew one day the nay sayers of our God's divine prophecy would be MUTE when the day of Judgement came upon them!"
"Animus" They chant draped in ruby red robes
" Lo'! That day is nigh. Book 1. Xenogenesis. page 1. 'The Creator saw the evil and wisdom of man as Eve did in Eden, and so plucked the rotting apple from Yggdrasil to spare the ripening worlds in it's company."
"ANIMUS" They chanted louder
"On this day, as it was prophesied, so it has passed! As we were told in the beginning of his sojourn to our world, Book 1, page 2, 'Build my throne on the shattered remains of the New World's darkest society, where in a false prophet will set in motion the first sign of the true Lords' second coming!' As it was written, the Lord would spare us from the vicious attack on our sacred trust, and so it was done! As all things apart of his divine plan have been, are, and will be. He comes, now, as it too is prohecied! We only must call his name and he shall return to this Earth to cleanse us of our impurities! Animus! Animus!"
Something stirred in the air. Not the air, the molecules between it. No, even between there. The space between spaces. For a brief infinity, the trust in the mechanics of life and science as a human mind can comprehend was shattered. Up became down, black became white, until finally, something bled out of the wound cut in reality, dripping in technicolor with the consistency of warm paint onto a man shaped easel cookie cut into the invisible weave of reality. He stood somewhere around 8 feet high, his shoulders four feet wide.
"One of them. "
Possessed by a design engineered for eons he acts with fluid motion, turning to his throne and sitting. His throat bends and waves, some type of transformation happening beneath the multicolored skin.
"Humanity!"
He shouts, and the world flinches. The sounds travels across the expanse of the entire planet, into the mind of all beings, transcending the language barrier to reach ever sentient creature that could comprehend it.
" Know that I'm not doing this to you, you do this to yourselves. Civil War, destruction of your own homes, war after war with no peace in sight, for decades. I sit below the pile of rubble that was once Gothic City. Like this Mecca of decadence fell so too will the rest of the world. As I speak to you the sentient dead rise from the grave. They are angry, they are vengeful, any love they had in their hearts has turned to bile and hate. Now they come for you. Hell is within you, and therefore you are always in Hell. Now, face your demons.
"Shinji." He whispers softly, channeling the Japanese prodigal chosen one, homing in to send a lone message for his ears only "I came to your ancestors first. I chose you long before today for a very important task. It's time to fulfill your role...Harbinger" @mr__mercury
Sitting on his Throne, Animus watches through the eyes of the dead as they race through out the planet, hunting those that they hated or loved in life seeking retribution or revenge. The aftermath of the evil of the world come back to bite those who wrought it.
A cunning and small smirk rises across the cheek of the semi-diegetic deity, gazing through reality and into...the eyes of an audience the world will ever know exists.
I sat alone in my hideout, save for Spex and Hunter, when the voices called to me again. In my meditations I became increasingly aware of them, chatter between Shadows, heralds of a greater being. Two greater beings. One, the Warsman, who had already effected my reality and taught me my lesson about his kind. The other, a being calling from my home roost of Gothic. They seemed to be in league.
I tried as best I could to follow their movements, but most things hadn't made much sense. Only the imminent destruction of reality, sensed by my two spirit guardians, the Bandit Queen and Jing-Quinon, and my gryphon Hunter, but not my AI. He understood, however. He sensed my mind and heart and understood me.
Whenever the voices reached me I cleared my head. Tonight, however, it became clear that it was all imminent. That death and destruction were coming soon. And I would be among the few who could help stand against it.
Suddenly I became aware of bigger problems.
Death, walking. Killing again for good measure. I only had three personal dead, all still in Gothic. I knew they'd come for me. But for now, I gathered my weapons and called Hunter to heel.
Great in size, and extraordinary in design, the Æther hung high in the moon's scant and tenuous atmosphere. Below it was the scarred and cratered grey of the moon's surface, and behind it? A blackness that had become devoid of stars, devoid of anything and everything that had rested beyond the borders of the solar system. Something was amiss. And yet, behind the thick metal walls of his space station, the New God hadn't noticed. No, instead the paragon strode through it's bleak halls of techy infrastructure, his red cape hanging from his broad shoulders and brushing against the ankles of his red boots. His dark blue battlesuit, forged from a subtly armored and regenerative nano-material, hugged his muscled frame well.
The clanging of his footsteps on the metal floor rang loud, echoing through the cool air till he slid into his seat, brushed his finger against a transparent pad, and felt a soft glow cast over his face by his computer's holographic display. Alexis studied, his pacific blue eyes drinking in every bit of information fed to him. He was monitoring the Earth, searching it for any imminent threats or dangers to it's people, searching with an obsessive will to defend and protect those who couldn't do so themselves. A foot or so from his right, emerged a second hologram; a featureless rhombus who spoke to him in a voice devoid of warmth and softness but overwhelmed by a childlike curiosity coded into the digital infrastructure of it's mind. It was the Æther's A.I. (Artificial Intelligence). "Alexis, a question if I may?", it began, it's voice echoing with a monotone and computerized hum.
"Sure", Alexis answered, his eyes still focused on his computer's holographic display. "What difference is there between a New God and any other?", the A.I. asked. "If you ask me, we're not gods and neither is anyone. But officially? A New God is a deity conceived by mankind giving rise to a new era of some kind, one founded on a concrete scientific breakthrough. Gods of things modern people turn to for answers. Gods of science unlike the gods of old who were deities of fire and war. When the first atom bomb was detonated, there was a New God born, the first one, the Goddess of the Atom. But I don't know much else about her", Alexis answered. "And what breakthrough caused you to manifest?", the A.I. prodded. "Mine were a set of breakthroughs, never publicly acknowledged by the government. They all happened simultaneously some seconds after the Trinity test in 1945".
"So am I to understand that this is what New Gods do? Watch over the world as the old gods were believed to?", the A.I. pushed. "No, this is what I do", Thee Champion corrected. "You don't do anything else?", the A.I. questioned. "What else is there for me to do?", Alexis asked, almost as if asking for guidance. "Well, it is to my understanding that you share the same emotions, cognition and overall psychology as humans. And I understand that humans take up hobbies or have recreational activities i.e. have fun. You don't?", the A.I. prodded once more. "Well, I used to go fishing with some old friends back in the day", Alexis confessed. "And you no longer partake in that activity?", the A.I. asked, it's curiosity piquing. "Seeing as how all my friends are dead, either from war wounds or old age? No", Alexis replied. "Are you suffering from depression? You display the symptoms", the A.I. pointed out.
And oh how right it was. Thee Champion's depression and emotional struggle stemmed from his grief and guilt over the deaths of his friends and adoptive mother, the deaths off everyone he'd ever known, deaths he felt his powers should have allowed him to prevent. In his forgotten life where his marriage to Ziccarra, their family and friendships filled this void, Alexis' depression was never manifested. But now? With his memory altered by Sabella Liafador? He was alone and found purpose only in his sense of duty to the world. Without it, he'd be lost, and left to recurrent thoughts of death from a subconscious desire to return to his friends and adoptive mother. "Something's happening on Earth", Alexis murmured, almost ignoring the A.I.'s previous remark. "I have to go. Watch over the station".
Galveston, Texas, Earth
Soaring out the Æther, the Herald of Hope felt the silence of space wrap round his ears and leave him deaf. And from where he hovered, rising above the grand structure of his space station, Alexis' features were earnest, the muscles on his face strained by an alarmed seriousness as he gazed all about him, cast his eyes across and saw nothing. Saw no distant stars twinkling in the background, and stranger still, his senses felt the cosmic microwave background radiation left over by the Big Bang had dwindled and dwindled greatly. Something was amiss. But the Earth and it's people were in need. Thee Champion blasted forward, his powerful bio-electric field surging and bringing to life an ion beam that thrust him towards the Earth.
He accelerated, diving into the planet's atmosphere, the air flattening against him and his cape fluttering behind him. Faster and faster he soared, the air grow hotter till it reddened, till a cone of plasma wrapped round him and a streak of burnt oxygen ran alongside the sonic booms that trailed far behind him. And in the Earth's skies, he heard it. A voice, one that promised the End Times and raised the dead from their graves. The dead walking the Earth once more... he couldn't believe it, he didn't want to. And in that moment, the sweat ran cold down his spine and he stopped. The air cooled and the shock-waves passed him by. He didn't move, above the clouds, he cast his eyes downwards, searching the streets below till he caught sight of them, of corpses roaming the streets of Galveston, Texas, his mother's hometown.. and where she'd been buried.
He felt his heart clamor in his chest, the New God. His breathing grew heavier and his chest heaved as the gravity of the situation weighed on him. Death now walked the Earth. The bones and rotting flesh of his old friends, of his adoptive mother, walked the Earth with hatred where love once existed. The thought of facing them, of being forced to do away with them, to put them to death.. it stripped the color from his world and left it grey. Every muscle on his face softened at the thought of doing so. But he was needed. Those below, the living, they needed him. And so, Thee Champion descended, his resolve as strong as it could be in that moment.
The day was going so well. Study on the teleportation was almost finished, and he had just been in a generally good mood. Then he heard him. The voice of Animus rang in his ears like as harbinger of ill news. "And the day was going so well too." He said sadly, he went straight to dawn the Omega Matter and shot through the earth like a bullet, "I need a good knowledge of what I'm up against Algor." He said as he moved through the ground headed for Gothic city.
Not enough information for proper calculations to be made. However, the target clearly possesses or is in contact with beings who are capable of necromancy of sorts, probability of phasing, flight, teleportation, and vast physical capabilities are high. Appears to be worshipped so there is also a good chance of other powers and abilities. I am sorry to say this, but probability of succeeding against the target is lower then %19.763, even with allies. The AI spoke.
"Dangit. Well we have to try. If there's a chance I have to give it a go." He said to himself as he emerged from the ground of Gothic city and into the sky, a silvery rider.
He spoke to Animus in a calm, but loud voice, "Cease assault. What is the purpose of your actions?" He asked.
Another scandal. Another murder. Another crisis connected to the Wata-dai Corp. heir apparent, Shinji Tsukazaki."The Grim Reaper!?" He screamed as the newscaster dubbed him that hideous nickname."He's screwing with me because I wasn't screwing with him. And that blonde Interpol girl she...." His bodyguard Christinne Winguard snickered at Shinji's beef with Anderson Cooper, hiding her smirk behind her Papaya Mamey drink. The Tsukazaki had enough of the American media. They were nosy, disrespectful, entitled and sensationalized everything for viewers. Shinji was not someone they would trivialize again. He made that promise after a year-long serial murder trial that imploded during his freshman year at Columbia University.
"I'm all the way in Mexico and they still manage to scrutinize my breathing pattern." he was shaking, he felt the electromagnetic amperage surging his nervous system. He could strike someone dead with that electrical anger right now. He paced the living room, thinking deeply about his predicament. "Plant false evidence to create a new suspect, Christinne."
"On who?" Christinne asked with a defensive tone in her voice. She was visibly offended.
"Someone that worked at the studio that night. Paint him as a deranged admirer or sexual deviant. I don't care. Just something to take the attention off us."
"US!?" she shot back, shaking her head. "I did all the dirty work for you and you want to get my hands deeper into this mess?"
"You knew the risk when you decided to work for me, didn't you?" A light sparkled in his eye. Something was visibly ticking and calculating in his mind. "Plant the evidence or I just turn you into the police for murder. I know you'll have no problem going back to jail. This all needs to end. One way or another."
"You're sick, Shinji..." Christinne's justified visage crumbled to pure resentment and fear.
"I'm a survivor." he spat back leaving the living room for Christinne to draw up a plan.
Columbia University, New York City, New York [January 2012]
"I'm a survivor"
"I'm a survivor..."he said to the NYPD as they trained their pistols on the Sigma Xi Mu president. Bright red blood stuck to his pale, chapped face.
"He's dead!" an officer called out, bent over the lifeless body lying in the bed of snow.
"Slowly raise your hands above your head and rise to your feet." the officers brushed off the college students words waiting for him to cooperate.
The Japanese boy cooperated, shaking to his feet. Tired, hungry. Adrenaline pumping through his veins.
They rushed him, one cuffing him the other reading him his rights and charges: "You're under arrest for the murders of..."
"NO!" he roared wriggling free from their binds with an invisible burst of electromagnetic energy. Shots were fired and he fled into the woods, with an invisible protective barrier surrounding him.
Xalteleco Penthouse, Mexico City, Mexico [3:00AM]
Blood of Columbia
When we fail to learn from it, history repeats itself. It haunts the fabric of our being. Pollutes our environment. We have to suffer the consequences of our error, that is in turn, someone else's triumph. In the books, History is written by the man that won. It's studied through text, artwork and media. The loser vilified and defamed.
Tonight his losses bore hard on his psyche. Nightmare after nightmare. The murders. Gaining his freedom only for the public to continue to paint him a serial killer. Losing his internship with Goldman Sachs. Forcibly losing his fiancee to the reputation the Western World anointed him; and ultimately falling back under the labor and legacy of his families Wata-dai Corp Empire. The nightmares, failures were pervading no matter how powerful his ability to lucid dream was.
"Shinji..."
Ancient Kamikage Robe
The voice boomed through his mind, reverberating through the mass of his surreal mental universe. The voice sounded equally soothing, serpentine and androgynous. The ambiance of the room shifted and Shinji felt the sudden weight of Kamikage ceromonial clothes drape his body.
"Ahnimus....Ahnimus...Ahnimus....Ahnimus..." Shinji heard the meditative drone of voices behind the materialized screen door before him. Intuition prompted him to open the door. Pushing the doors open he saw worshipers in his families garb, kneeling obediently with their foreheads to the wooden ground.
A golden path leading to a throne, embroidered with monolith Ryujin [Dragon God] snaking the path, called for Shinji to walk. Taking methodical ritual steps, the Tsukakazi Prince towered forward and sat on the throne looking over all the mass of bodies hiding their faces in blind worship.
The serpentine voice boomed through the sacred room."I came to your ancestors first. I chose you long before today for a very important task. It's time to fulfill your role...Harbinger"
Years sense Alianette was apart of the active world, apart of more then an esoteric life style. Even in that isolated providence she trained, even as she slept she studied. While many people of countless schools would say that she was a grand master of the various martial arts, she’d forever dub herself a student. Looking to learn more about the chakra of the universe and the fundamental energies it was crafted of. Because of this she never believed in the gods and demons of lore. They were just other things composed of the universe even the most abstract of entities could be examined until understood. However the yin yang prodigy woke from her slumber in the woods of Reisho monastery knowing that a god had come to make its self known, she had to find him. To examine the latest myth daring to claim to be the allfather. She wanted to look to the dad of the sun and moon and ask him why he dared act as great as he thought he was. Her gods were conceptual, the notion of life death and of the soul, she failed to see what should make this individual special. He should educate her or have his face spat upon like the rest.
The tree branches danced as a cold wind fell across the land. Without any knowledge of the chakra flowing through the world one could tell what was coming. Ali however took life and death as things to play with, she knew what was venturing her way. Whoever dared to play the voice from on high had casted his hand over the world. Rising like weeds they came from the dirt covered in rot and soil. There flesh hung from their bones and their muscles quivered straining to function. Though the prodigy rested in the woods away from even the people of her home many were coming to greet her. They had traveled all this way, many hiking such a long way to visit the death dealer. Not one to be rude she got to her feet obsidian eyes looking toward the shambling mass.
Assassins long slain roamed forward brandishing weapons in need of polish and proper care. Old clans ventured toward her wilted hands a glow with fire or rotting bodies having an orbit of the elements. Friends came near her, her departed family that someone dared to try and raise against her. Bowing respectfully toward the legion the Reisho tempest wasted no time seizing the elements to wash over the army of the dead in a torrent of violence. Electricity surged through her veins making her swifter. Control over the earthen elements allowed her body to stay in tact beneath the force of her blows, flesh becoming as durable as diamond behind her mystical gifts. All the while her abilities over life itself kept her stamina high and her body energetic as she danced through the horde. They were slow, sluggish from the aged muscles and wilting bones, and a control over blood let the yin yang artist move corpses if they came close to hitting her. Untouched by the undead her every blow excited the air, bursting like thunder with every impact and setting a portion of the forest ablaze under the daunting force.
At the top of the hill however stood four men who’d sat out all this time on the bout. They looked old and forgotten, masters of a time ages ago. No punch came however, no grandiose attack of any kind. Despite being compelled to rip the prodigy apart they refrained knowing they had something more. To further learn and master her craft the soul taking artist had bound these old legends to her own soul. They had slept with her, had meals with her and bonded on a way beyond physical or emotional ties would allow. Their souls were hers and so when she came close they kneeled. A thick black fluid pooled from their bitten tongues as they chose to bleed rather then confront their student. And respectfully with but a touch of the brow the bodies fell and the souls were united once more with Alianette.
Once the deed was done the Reisho artist moved to find some of the old teleporting ruins. They rested on trees and stones so rarely touched. Obligation to venture the world at large had faded some, now however demanded such an action. She had a god to face, she had come to learn that the world had an event worth her precious time. Using one of the master’s souls Ali would leave a variation of herself upon the hill. This ghost would call out through the astral planes for power and understanding. Looking unknowingly to touch the ominous presence of @thisisgonnahurt:
Meanwhile for reasons beyond what she could understand the stone of which Ali found herself taking brought her to Galveston Texas beside a caped figure @thee_champion: a godly physique but she could tell it was not the one responsible for the present events. She found herself rarely showcasing an element of compassion feeling compelled to hug the deity. An embrace like one might expect from a daughter gifted to a father, though one that came from a stranger. To which the spirited reaper retreated back bowing in apology. "Im sorry but there was a brief moment where I swear I knew you despite obviously not." Familiarities she swear she could detect from someone she knew held no connection. What she had found was what she could only call a paradox, she didn't understand why it was done and yet she did. From this paradox she thought perhaps she might actually be sparing with a god soon, and it angered her. Looking to the quiet city the soul taker could tell this new god was far from an old testament type, the sight of the dead rising bothered him. So to make up for the mistake she'd made and had yet to fully understand she reached out with hand toward the city and more importantly on a plain beyond the physical. "This could take a bit of time, but I'll try and place the dead back in their rightful place. After words we should spit on the shoes of whoever thinks this okay to do."
It didn't take much, a concentrated ball of energy powerful enough to reduce a planet to dust. They'd all seen it moving toward the atmosphere, but none of them were powerful enough to stop it. How could they? It happened so quick; no one could think of what controls to implement. As the planet begin to erupt in a ball of searing blazes the culprit for this atrocity floated high in the heavens; using a thin film of light energy to protect herself from the planet's crust. A heightened sense of hearing filled her ears with the sounds of horrid wails and structrual damage. This creature had been birthed, lived a life; and then perished. How was it that she was still alive to bring forth unquantified destruction? Someone revived her carcas, and with it her nature to destroy. The War Killer had returned.
(Previously) Derelict U.S Lab – Undisclosed location in Northern Africa.
Like I took one too many...
“She’s a genetic match to the one we had in Spain, but certain deficiencies in her DNA suggest she may be of extra terrestrial origin.” The doctor reported eying a data pad containing the specifics listed by Maverick on the Ninjan equivalent to the Former Spanish Prime Minister, Ziccarra Liafador. “Maverick apprehended her on Asgard as it floated above Kansas months ago, encased in a thick block of ice.”
“What should we do, I mean we don’t need her” The head scientist, a lithe framed 5’5 of German descent freckled male said eying the list of terrorist activity the woman had been involved in. “No we could always use more meta’s especially the kinds we can control.” The doctor replied enamored with the findings that this woman had very little defense for telepathic intrusions.
“What is eet that you had in mind hmm?” There was a prolonged silence between the doctor and the scientist in this brief moment of peace, The Doctors auburn gaze repelled that of the former Ninjan Queen. “What do you think about becoming our Champion?” He asked rhetorically. “I think you can go eat a d!ck” She replied, her eyes surging with ionized red ambers.
“When I get out of here, I’m going to kill the both of you; and then I’m going to kill Maverick, all of them” She continued hands folded eyes shut. “Ahhh you see, that’s the tricky part. Maverick informed us of your…Achilles heel. The double hydrogen compound in water negates your powers. You didn’t think those tubes lodged inside your arm were pumping morphine did you?” The Scientist said with a hearty chuckle.
“Wipe her memory, I don’t want her to remember anything. Turn her into someone new.” The Doctor commanded leaving the scientist to do his work. “Now, Now, Fraulein dis will not be enjoyable.” He said moving toward the switch that’d essentially change everything she knew.
“Could you be anymore cliché? Stupid fricken accent, “this will not be enjoyable”, cliché ass button you hit to change my life forever. Sweetness on a stick, just hurry up and make me forget already. Goddamn humans I swear.” Her snarky comment was the source of agitation for the scientist, without wasting any more of his time he flipped the switch.
The nodes attached to her body sent jarring electrical shocks through her body, as she convulsed around in the cylinder images of Jean, Maya, Stephanie, Cassidy and Sara; all people she’d loved and hated throughout her tenure eventually vanished.
“Tell me now, how are you feeling dear?” The doctor asked having returned from his duties, this time he was safeguarded on multiple sides by men dressed in tribal red cloths. “I feel like I took one too many Advil” she replied trying to shake the fog from her brain.
“That’s just a small side-effect; do you feel as if your powers?” He ask, but before she could answer the sound of the double doors behind him burst open heralding the arrival of General Riberia. General Riberia was the commanding General of the Cardinal attack on Emerald City, sometime after the fall of Liafador Spain he rallied the rouge Cardinals under him and formed the Rouge Faction. In recent months however, he was being bested by Isis Liafador.
“How far along is she?” He asked, as the Cardinals render a salute. “We’re running a diagnostic on her major functions right now; we should have some concrete answers in a few hours.” The Doctor replied, shifting his attention back to the blonde.
“Isis Liafador has been hitting Rouge Faction locations across the globe, we need her operational to take down that meddling wench.” The General spat moving dangerously close to the blonde. “Well Sir, if you hadn’t attacked the U.S personnel recovery team in broad daylight; we might’ve actually had more time.”
He turned, hands behind his back grimacing at the doctors’ mention of his exploit, but before he could comment the alarms in the facility began to ring out loud. They’d been found.
“Goddamn it, is it Isis!?” The General screamed, moving to the surveillance cameras to get a visual.
“No…It’s The Goddess…”
Now
"Sir, we have something big heading towards the planet. It's moving fast ane generating a shocking amount of energy. "We've got some images from a probe out in the asteroid belt"
"What is it?
"I don't know, but if it doesn't slow down it'll plow right through our planet."
"I saw what you become one day Shinji. I walked in the wake of your future empire. You have potential beyond even your own ego's expectations. That's why I chose you. That's why you, are my Harbinger of Death."
Stepping up onto his golden carved throne he does what to a human eye looks like taking a deep breath, then releases, his back fully against the seat. At first it seemed like nothing was happening. Then the Earth began to shake outside the temple, giving way and opening a squared canal up to the *decimated ruins* of Gothic City. The sun shone on the magnificent throne. A gold coin in a sea of dirty pennies. The temple slides across the air and rests slowly down into the ashen ground just beside the hole from which it rose. Animus, steps off of the throne through the throng of devotees, until his feet touched the dusty ground, "Come, Shinji. Consider this a crash course apprenticeship..." Kneeling down he sticks his multicolored fingers into the soil and spreads them wide. The color red runs out of his tall figure as though a syringe were absorbing it from what could be called his skin, into the Earth.
"This world was never anyone's to keep. It was, always, only ever a rental. The last iteration failed to understand that as well. Once again, the payments are over do..." The divine anomaly twists his rigid hands that then crack the world open, crimson color seeping through the wounds in the Earth.
"And as always, the landlord must give the eviction notice."
Strutting over to Shinji he wets the dirt with the colors of his palms, making it into a clay paste. He slides his thumb across The chosen one's forehead, "You are no longer merely, Shinji Tsukazaki."He slides " From this moment until the last, you are The Harbinger. My Black Right Hand. Rise, and claim the people of this world...RISE!" Animus shoves his clay pasted palm into Shinji's face so hard he nearly breaks his nose, gripping his skull like a small basketball, the black of his color oozing from his body into the chosen one. With it he absorbed a fraction of the Animus, enough energy to show his purpose in the grand design with clarity reserved for the divine, enough to give him power over death. A drop from the well of virtue.
"The remnants of the first Earth Zero, Rise and scream for revenge Shinji. Until now they had no one to blame. Until now. They are starving and listless rising from their forgotten graves. But they can only act on your order my son. They are begging for a meal like starved dogs behind a locked gate with prey just out of reach. They want these heroes and superpowered self-inclined gods entrails across their tombstones. Feed them, Harbinger" Bending down and matching eyes with his disciple, Animus smiles a sinister smile, a devilish smile, pulling Shinji from his knelt position to his feet " Feed the Prime Meridian."
I was doing a darn good job of smashing through the living dead when I felt it. A call from home. Voices I know and loved. I whistled for Hunter to heel before opening a portal to Gothic with my guns. As soon as I stepped through, I saw them.
"Mom...dad...Uncle Beau..." I whispered as I looked at their remains dragging towards me. Hunter growled but I called him off. I wanted to be near these three again before I had to destroy them.
"You fool," my uncle said. "Did you learn nothing from me? Never face an enemy on its home ground. Never come to them. Make them come to you."
"You're not my enemies," I replied softly.
"Not your enemies?" My father asked. "After you allied yourself with that...beast, the Warsman, you made mankind your enemy. You betrayed us all!"
"He chose me, and I declined," I said patiently. "He wants me but he won't have me. Not in this lifetime."
"Listen to her," my mother hissed. "She doesn't even care. There's no love in her voice. She looks her own family in the face and lies to it. What kind of daughter are you?!"
"The kind willing to do what's necessary," I replied, lifting Inferno. The three attacked, one on each side. Hunter took Incle Beau, a naturally born fighter, while I handled my parents. "I'm sorry," I whispered, as I pulled the trigger and incinerated first my father, then my wailing, screaming mother. Finally I aimed for Uncle Beau, whistling for Hunter to get out of the way.
"You won't win this! He will not succeed so long as--" I cut him off, but as a tear rolled down my cheek I understood his last words.
"Not so long as there is a drop of Sterling blood in my veins," I promised them. Then calling Hunter to heel, I started wandering the rubble, determined to find the Animus causing the widespread death before the Warsman found me.
Well, at least I now knew what Animus was. But I'd have to go though Bertholdt, the least hated of the Shadows, to get to him. Fortunately I'd started teaching myself how to use the Force against the Warsman's powers. My wings were efficient in blocking the blows of energy from his trident, though they drove me back several yards.
"I'm sorry, Bertholdt," I said from behind them, "but I can't let this happen."
I unfolded them, exposing my body. Whatever I could do with my tech I hat trained myself to do against the Warsman's servants. I summoned a column of hot flames, the essence of "dark" Force energy, to my right hand, and took aim.
"I'm sorry."
I let them loose, trained on the former king, as at the same time I summoned cold into my left Jedi hand. Just in case.
"Sir? Yes sir...I see it too and I heard the voice as well. Yes...yes..I'll get the team deployed immediately. New York? Got it." The Custodian stood in the command center of her team's base and deactivated the com system once Neuromind closed the connection. She activated the base wide com as well as the communications broadcast to members of the team that might not be on base at the moment. "I'm sure everyone heard the voice, boss man wants us to get rolling. If you're not on base, meet at the coordinates I'm sending you, if you are, we'll take our transport to New York City. We're to protect Times Square and open avenues of escape for those who are under attack or in the combat zone. We'll figure out the rest as we go."
Soon the Heroes of Tomorrow were deployed. The Custodian lead the way down the ramp of the aircraft into the center of Times Square. The scene was already a chaotic mess, citizens were running everywhere in panic. Ok, can't control this many people and where they choose to run but we can set up a perimeter of sorts. I'll take the center and clear out the vehicles, we can use it as a place for medical evac teams to land and take off from.
The Custodian reached out with her mind and manipulated the gravitational fields of a dozen abandoned vehicles. She carefully pushed them out of the way to clear a helicopter landing zone and then smashed them together, melding metal and plastic with the sheer force of gravity. She used these to create barriers around where any helicopters would land and left gaps large enough for a few people walking side by side, but otherwise the barriers would serve as a fall back point if necessary.
It was at this time that the first of the undead began to make their way into Times Square. "Alright boys and girls. Form a perimeter, use your powers to destroy or otherwise detain the undead so that people can flee into the square. If you need help, yell for it."
Something lingered in the back of her mind, a unquiet sensation...the words of the man who'd unleashed this chaos in the first place. Our loved ones will come after us...my brother. He's coming...I can feel it. She didn't know if she was ready to see his walking corpse and bit her lip. She reached up and tapped the side of her visor, causing the black face plate to lower into place. Best not let anyone see the doubt on my face...I wonder...I hope not. She shifted and walked to the center of the square.
"Alright undead...bring it." She reached out with her mind, once again gripping the gravitons flowing around New York. She could manipulate gravity at extreme macroscopic levels and extreme microscopic levels, she had spent most of her life honing her craft, learning to use gravitons like fine tools or blunt objects, whichever was necessary. In this case it took much of her focus to finesse gravity around Times Square. She had to feel the gravitons that clung to the undead and the undead alone. Seeking to buy the civilians and her own team some time, she increased the Earth's pull on the undead alone, causing them to slow down. Her hope was to be able to maintain concentrate long enough to bring the gravitational house down ontop of them and crush them entirely, but for now it took her focus to sort out the living from the dead. All the while, she hoped dearly that her brother wouldn't be among them. I hope to the high heavens that his powers haven't reactivated as a result of this.
During the destruction of Prime, honorable heroes, notorious neutrals and various venomous villains aligned together to try and stop the chaos that was threatening to kill off the human race. But one by one they began to fall. Teams that once stood against the test of time, Zero Squad, Trinity, We Are Legend, Ice Dragons, Vine Villains, Wolf Pack, Angels and Demons, they all crumbled into nothingness. No amount of strength, power, intelligence, technology or will was able to stand against it. Now, their dead Earth was nothing but a cold graveyard to billions of people, including those who so desperately tried to save it. For years now, whatever was left of their bodies were left where they had died, rotted or turned to dust.
Among the bodies, in the center of what was left of Los Angeles, was what was left of the body of Stephanie Ardor, where she made her final stance against the chaos that claimed the lives of everyone. Her corpse buried deep within the ruins of the once known “City of Angels”, and there was she to rest for all eternity… until a voice called out to, reached deep into the depths of the death itself.
"The remnants of the first Earth Zero, Rise and scream for revenge Shinji. Until now they had no one to blame. Until now. They are starving and listless rising from their forgotten graves. But they can only act on your order my son. They are begging for a meal like starved dogs behind a locked gate with prey just out of reach. They want these heroes and superpowered self-inclined gods entrails across their tombstones. Feed them, Harbinger.t Feed the Prime Meridian."
Los Angeles
As the dead roamed the city, citizens screamed in horror as one by one they began to fall. Police force struggling to keep up with the sheer numbers of people rising from the ground. Military no where in sight, because of the sudden outbreak of the walking dead that covered not just the United States, but the entire globe. This wasn’t just made up of people who had died within this last generation, but beings who have died in the area of the city since the time of man. The undead overwhelmed the living without a single hero was in sight.
But in the heart of the city, where her grave was set in Prime Universe, a shift in the world’s stirred the fallen hero as she laid to rest. A single hand burst from a patch of grass that was in the middle of a median strip that was an dark grey with strips of flesh missing from parts of its hand. The hands began to reach up, higher and higher until the flailing arms were out from beneath the Earth. The fingers, some only bone and rotting ligaments that held them together, dug into the moist dirt as the body heaved itself from it’s own filthy grave.
As if the Earth was giving birth, the undead former hero pulled herself out in a raspy gasp for air, what was left of her deep brown hair covered the rotting features of the Fire Goddess as her emerald eyes looked out into the panicked city. She knew who she was, Stephanie Ardor, Feral Nova, once hero of We Are Legend, fallen protector of the Earth. All her memories were intact, she remembered the important people in her life, NeVann, her two children, Sha, Angelic Reaper, she could remember them all. She was aware of the situation, people were in fear, undead attacking them. Her first instinct, the ways of a hero, were what came over her first. Protect, serve, sacrifice. But the force that brought her back stripped it away and instead she had no desire to protect, no need to serve, no will to sacrifice. She only wanted chaos. To kill, to spread fear, to hear the cries of humans and watch them cower before her power and then… look down upon them as their hearts contract for the last time.
Standing as the sun hit upon her body, Stephanie let out a feral roar, her hands balled into fists as she held them out to her side, tilting her head up to the sky as she felt that all too familiar ball of heat in the center of her chest. It was time. Her entire body erupted in a golden flame. The fire danced around her body, as if it had a life of it’s own but wielded only to the command of their Goddess. Her body slowly began to rise to the air, as if the years of decaying had no effect on her powers. As if when she was reborn, she was brought back whole. Her emerald began to look down upon the chaotic city. But it wasn’t enough, she wanted more, she yearned for more. Throwing her arms downward upon the city a massive stream of fire came down upon the streets like a wave of death, consuming both the living and the undead. She didn’t care who’s life she took or what ally she took down with her attack, it was all the same to the Fire Goddess.
The Olympian Champion, Son of Heracles. He'd been a hero once, Alceus. And married, married to a warrior-goddess unlike any other; Angeni. Until he no longer was, until their marriage died with the world he'd once known. Prime had become a nightmare simply too real to wake from. Explosions were rampant, light flared across the sky, outshining the sun as fires burned and pillars of smoke climbed higher and higher into a sky that was soon darkened by clouds of soot. Pedestrians, the people he and many other heroes had sworn to protect were defenseless, hopeless. They ducked and sought cover as they'd been taught to during such a crisis. They cowered under whatever they could, shutting their eyes and praying that all would be well.
That the flames that left their world scarred and scorched would do them no harm and pass them by. Schoolchildren cried and hid beneath their desks and chairs. Pedestrians scurried under cars and inside buildings. Working men and women crouched behind their office desks, and they prayed. Those who found no cover, simply ran. But there was no running from the apocalypse. From the End. An End that felt no pity nor softness as the screams of the many echoed. Lives were lost, and what remained was a scarred and dead world of grey. A world where nothing lived and nothing would ever grew. The oceans had dried, and the world had gone cold, as though the sun's light and warmth had never been felt. And from the ashes of burnt corpses, Alceus rose.
Born anew, he was different. The commands of a foreign god burned deep into the farthest reaches of his mind and heart, doing away with anything he'd ever felt for the dead gods of his pantheon. The Greek gods of his world were no more. There was nothing in this world. But there was another world, one he'd been summoned to, brought to by the will of something beyond him. Muscled to the proportions of a living mountain and covered in black, the Iron-Side Prince emerged from a tear in reality. The ground quaked under the weight of his might, from each step of his foot, the ground was made to tremble. The metropolis about him, it boiled his blood. He didn't know, and he didn't care. The foreign god's commands simply willed it so.
He hated the pedestrians bustling about him, hated the sounds of the cars passing him by. He hated it all. Alceus, a god, felt the hateful and murderous urges of a human and wielded the overwhelming power to carry them out. Lest he be stopped, the city of London would be no more. Nothing would be left in the wake of a rampage that would soon begin.
It was tainted. The birthplace of the woman who'd adopted and raised him, it was tainted by the march of the dead. All about him, corpses were risen, their arms of rotting flesh and cracked bone bursting from beneath the ground. They walked with a lameness, a limp in their stride that told of weakness, instability. But there was none. Flesh so pale it did not react to the sun, a visage so emaciated their bones seemed to be pushing out against their very skin, these corpses were abominations held together and strengthened by the will of the foreign god who'd come and declared this world his. The smell of decay hung thick in the air, creeping into every corner and tainting the city of Galveston.
Thee Champion's pacific blue eyes took in the sight all about him, and felt his face strained by the weight of grief and of guilt. Grief over the cruelty the souls of the dead were suffering, and guilt over what he'd be forced to do to put an end to this madness. Fists clenched, Alexis held his features in earnest, his eyes glowing red with the radiant energy stirring in his cells as the air sizzled, it's particles hummed as red arcs of energy crackled an unspoken warning from the New God; stop now or be struck down. And struck down they would be - until Alexis felt an embrace of warmth and empathy, a young woman's arms wrapping round him and returning the shade of pacific blue to his eyes. And for a moment, a split-second, the sensation felt familiar. Almost, he'd almost remembered the most treasured aspect of his forgotten life with Ziccarra; being a father.
"It's fine", Alexis assured, his hand rested upon her shoulder, comforting her as any father would, as he often did to those in need - and yet he was the one in need. "Thank you", Thee Champion smiled, his eyes and face softening, the strain of grief lessening at the woman's offered help. "That means a lot", perhaps more than he could put into words. To help restore his adoptive mother's hometown and return it's dead to their place of rest, it was a gesture unlike any. One that was soon cast away by the arrival of two. One a towering monstrosity muscled to the proportions of a beast of ancient myth; Typhon. And the other a Symaarian whose glowing red blade echoed it's wielder's cruelty. Alexis gazed upon them both, his brow scowling, his face wearing his hero's resolve like no other. And to his and his newfound ally's foes, he declared.
"No, this isn't how mankind's story ends!". His eyes flashed a blinding light, a light that sought to burn it's glow into the eyes of his foes, blinding them, temporarily, and creating the opening both he and his ally needed to attack. It was an opening he would seize. The New God burst forward, the air behind him torn asunder by his blitzing speed as a streak of glowing red burned the oxygen behind him as he hoped to seize the opening he might've created. His left arm extended, and his fist twitched with an overpowering might, the kind that slayed gods and knocked them into orbit. The air flattened and reddened against his fist, expanding rapidly, it's temperature rising far too quickly until it exploded, erupting as the loud and sharp crack of nature's most storied shock-wave; thunder. His fist, his left straight, was a weapon of mass destruction.
It tore through the air, shattering the glass of homes and buildings nearby, bending and flattening the trees all about them till it neared his foe's chin, till his fist threatened to blast into Typhon's cranium with the kind of power that made craters of cities and turned the air into plasma. But the New God would not relent. His eyes glowed once more, tapping into his cells and dipping deep into their wells of radiant energy, hurrying past all manner of radiation till he chose one. His eyes burned brighter then, and commanded beams of electromagnetic fury to swallow his foe whole, to scorch him with thermonuclear temperatures and rip his molecules asunder.
These were the things that had filled the heart of the Pale Sorceress as she no longer held any room in whatever soul she had left for useless emotions such as compassion, tenderness or even love. Instead, she had sacrificed and abandoned such senses in turn for power from a mephistopheles made reality. She would do so again just as easily if it meant that she could lengthen the abilities that had imbued her, turning her into the burning monster that had now stalked through the rubbles of Gothic City. A ominous yet whisper of a voice tugged at her thoughts, influencing her hand and pushing her hate further and further.
Her palms wide and glowing with the newly found gifts that she had sought after for so long. Sapphire lightning had bolted from her hands in a wild flourish, demolishing buildings before her and scorching the fleeing crowd that had been desperately retreating. The terror in their eyes was nourishing her anger, fueling it….But it wasn’t enough. No. It was only after the last sliver of hope had left their gazes, did the Banshee Queen feel complete ecstasy. The final moment when a human had realized how futile escape was and the feeling of hopelessness that had finally washed over them, only then, was she satisfied. The substantial endowment from the world eating deity had proven well worth it’s cost. Constantly, she reminded her how much more lives she would take in his name, so long as the flowers of aptitude continued to bloom.
“FEAR ME!
I AM THE DESTRUCTION OF INNOCENCE
I AM VIOLENCE EMBEDDED IN FLESH
I AM THE PAIN IN THE BONES OF THE MORTAL SHELL
THE DARK PAIN OF THE EARTH
I AM HELL!”
Her amplified voice had boomed through the city plaza, causing more buildings to collapse upon themselves while the wailing of women had echoed into the sky. Woman and children had collapsed to their knees, clawing rabidly at their bleeding ears attempting to quell the pain with an agonizing distraction. It was to no avail. Slowly, they died from the internal hemorrhaging caused by the invisible sonic boom. She rained chaos from her fingertips, empowered by sorcery, the force, and the devil himself. She had abandoned neither of her studies, but had felt an understanding of the things she believed had been kept from her. Enveloped in darkness and shrouded by deceit, all things mysterious had now finally been revealed.
“YOU WILL SEE THE TRUE FACE OF PANIC!”
She seethed through gritting teeth with a venomous tongue while lost in delirium. Her necromantic powers now amplified, she had commanded a vast army of the dead, trailing behind her with rotting limbs that had gripped various weapons that had been lost in time. The hunger in their stares had rivaled that of the Enchantress General while the strokes of their blades struck down the barely living victims left in her wake.
My column of flame was cut off when I felt a pain I recognized as Master Quinon's grief in my chest. Someone was wreaking death in my city, someone human. I had enough problems with Warsman and Animus, so this third person just seemed to be here to make a bad day worse. My defenses had lowered when the pain hit, but now that it was subsiding I hurriedly resumed a protective position. Hunter was tense, looking for my problem, and seeming concerned. Spex gave me an idea.
*Send him to find the human. He can handle it while you focus on this fight.*
I took a breath before lighting my sabers. "Hunter, go. Defend civilians. Don't come back until they're safe." With a warlike screech-roar, he took off, ready to do what was I'd asked, while I returned my attention to Bertholdt, who hopefully hadn't tried to take advantage of my low defenses.
Meanwhile Hunter located the human killing other humans. He landed between her and the herd of frightened civilians, then raised his head and spread out his wings in challenge.
"They want these heroes..."the embellishing of the sacred Kamikage Temple miraculously began flushing away. Materializing a new physical space like cascading grains of unlimited sand. The rush of the shifting reality crashed around Animus as he explicitly spellbound his Harbinger of Death. "..and superpowered self-inclined gods entrails across their tombstones." An unknown cavern sustained the space, adorned with lit candles as the Kamikage robes peeled it's red hues and gold embellishments off Shinji Tsukazaki for a monochromatic shade of black. "Feed them, Harbinger.... Feed the Prime Meridian." The Tsukazaki's body innately stirred. Breathing in the dank, ritual fumes activated in the cavern the hunger in his brain refined to Animus' mantric words: Feed the Prime Meridian.
Exercising the supernatural covenant ordained to him. The Gothic City cemetery naturally called him, permeating with lamented spirits. Leagues of decayed bodies were packed six feet under. He sensed each soul with the uncanny ability Animus ordained him. His Kamikage divination gridlocked on bodies carrying mutant genetic codes. Sending a radial surge of electricity across the grounds, Shinji ripped the appointed coffins from the graveyard soil. Electrical red tendrils snaked the coffins, energizing the corpses flesh. The soiled and grotesque figures broke free from the coffins, breathing in the nascent air of immortality.
Death had ran its trial on the undead souls that stood audience before the young Harbinger. It was the sentient beings that walked the Earth receiving there cosmic ruling. Within the perimeter of the Gothic City limits there was a spirit exerting mindless massacre. One of his six immortalized mutants contained the ability to teleport. Like a mymercodic hive mind, she ported Shinji and the mutants from the cemetery to the heart of the city.
There she was. Scaling the rooftop, the Harbinger of Death watched the woman pervert spawn for her mindless spree killing. No matter the depth of her cause those undead belonged to Shinji, who inherently answered to Animus. Playing spectator, there was a self proclaimed hero challenging the Sorceress. He would address both of them for different reasons. The Sorceress was sentenced to Death and the heroine would fall in line or follow the Sorceress' fate.
He stylishly descended from the skyscraper, unnaturally hitting the ground with a dull thud. "I don't care what justification you have for your slaughter."he walked between the two, his black robe trailing the ground. "but you will answer to Animus." He exchanged an unflinching gaze with both women ready to spar with both. His minions watched on from the skyscraper waiting for their cue.
Hunter spread his wings out again and gave the new challenger the same answer her given the human female: a war-cry and agressive stance in his lion-sized form. His golden eyes followed the male, while his owl-like ears remained tuned on the female. His mission was to protect the innocent humans, but he knew that that might entail that he battle both of these. He made his reply to the male quite clear, and hoped the female got the message as well.
The Obsidian boots of the Black and White adorned World Killer finally graced the surface of the Earth. Her natrual blue eues shifted hue, a devious red begin to not only glow under her goldenrod eyebrows but begin to screech.
Red for many throughout all ages of time, This color had a number of meanings. But to those that knew this particular Ninjan Queen--Red meant death. In her own psychological profile, the color red was a symbol of passionate hate; and nothing more upset her at this moment, than being taken from her world brought here and used as some sort of science project.
Everything around her went dead silent, people trying to escape the carnivorous un-dead scratching at their backs were delayed by the powerful screen of Ziccarra's uproarious eyes. She didn't need a target, everything and everyone was a possible victim; there was no motive she simply sought to destroy and and everything she could.
Watching them squeal, it was the one thing she loved about humans. Behind their weapons of mass destruction they never came to terms with their own mortality, a speck in the endless tails of the universe; whereas a human day to her could last forever. They acted as if they were gods, they were not, they were an inferior race.
Her simply optical energy blast cause the "belly" of the city to rumble, within moments of it's rumbling it erupted into widspread terror. Thick plumes of ash coupled with the searing remains of the living and undead filled the sky; blanketing a large portion of San Francisco in a black veil. Roads began to crumble and faltar before her her boots, the Nightmare had only exhibit an 8th of her actual power.
A father rushing towards his daughter caught her eye, what was he going to save her from? If anything he was subjecting her to a fate far more worse than what she was to get. An extended finger stopped the man in his tracks, Ziccarra's finger energy was enough to rip the child's head from her shoulder's as her father stood in horror.
"There is a nightmare beyond the horrors of hell" Again her hand extended in his direction, but this time as the hellish winds of her eye-beam burned through his flesh, he could not run. He was forced to watch his daughter's headless body discinerate into matter before the light on his own light was extinguished.
This Prime Ziccarra, she was the one that created all the others. She traveled to various universes and learned the secrets of the multiverse. There was literally one of her, everywhere. They came in different shapes, sizes and ethnicities but ultimatly they carried her name and were the universal equivlent to her.
The Guardians of Time and Space were to protect her each time, but the failed. An anomoly in the multiverse occurred and a new universe was created without the consent of each domain. Universe Y, and from Universe Y; Ziccarra learned of the forbidden existence of her Y counterpart:
Septic black eyes reflect a damaged field of ravaged wasteland, pitted with the scars left in the wake of a multitude of melees that hit a crescendo. Now all that remains are the clouds of grey ash wafting in a cold winter night breeze, and the bones of the foundation that stood mere feet high, that once held aloft buildings that truly exemplified the term 'skyscraper.'
Looking down at the impending fight between his disciple and the two interlopers Animus could sense the energy emitting from the woman. It was like a turned wine, hard to forget and easy to get a wiff of. She had the stink of Warsman all over her. Good.
When the Free God, Animus, orchestrated the destruction of this city by the hands of a Warsman Shadow disciple, he knew it would draw the destroyer's attention. This was a play in a long game that stretched between universes and beyond time and space. It was a dangerous game to court a monster like Warsman, but every move made on this level was. The very act of blinking created ripples in the universe preordained by gods that were as advanced to he as he to average human beings. They set laws that bound even himself. The Cosmic Law. One of it's many unwritten statutes is that a creator can not be a destroyer. But before all of this, Animus was an entrepreneur.
He knew how to find loop holes in the law.
In garnering the attention of Warsman he courts death consciously, but precisely. It was a gamble but the pay out would be incalculable. The reformation of the epicenter of all reality to his specifications.
Rising off of the ground Animus says nothing, he merely glares at his disciple and silently allows any action he deems suitable. Kill the shadow or try, ally with her. Either way he didn't want to add insult to injury. If devil's are known for anything, it's for their fragile egos and boastful pride.
Shooting into the sky and out of the atmosphere the divine enigma emits himself through the barrier of Saul's ship. Standing tall and rigid, the vibrant colors of his skin morphing and shifting.
"I'd like you to pass a word on to your master, Saul. I see one of his, other minions, are attacking my hollowed ground. Are we not still in agreement? He wanted this world, I'm giving it to him. I pulled it out of the barrier and put it between the veil to make his inquisition possible. Tell the Void Strider I want a response immediately." Looking into Saul's eyes with a fearless divine presence, as though he were staring through the fledgling's eyes and into Warsman himself's, "Or I will put this world back where I found it, as I found it, and take other measures that don't involve fairweather giants."
Distraction. A limiting sense of concern and moral responsibility for the city of Galveston were what saw the New God's efforts fade, and his guard drop as the city and it's people burned until all were dead - until the city was in ruin. And as his blood boiled, so did his flesh, it sizzled and bubbled as Typhon's nuclear blast swallowed him whole and blasted him across the ruined city. Teeth gritted, his red cape smeared with the ash of the dead, Thee Champion rose to his feet, his face strained with the pain from Typhon's attack. Bruised and even burnt, he breathed in - then out, his body emitting and emitting gravitons, seizing command over gravitational fields so that his would be a power that sought to neutralize the external forces that wished him harm.
His durability enhanced, his resolve unbroken, Alexis rolled his shoulders, and his features wore his determination well, "I can do this all day". And as Typhon charged forward, Alexis dashed backwards, scorched air and shock-waves trailing him as he moved in a blur, circling out as Typhon gave chase. He dashed, pivoted and retreated, exiting out angles faster and faster till he was no longer a blur, till he'd grown too fast for the senses to follow - and just fast enough to maintain some distance between him and Typhon. Typhon, the Warmaster of Devourers, he was a monstrosity if there ever was one. A monstrosity that saw overwhelming power and a mountain's dimensions become one. He was too large, too long for the New God to fight conventionally, but large enough to be at a disadvantage. Large and heavy enough for there to be far too much stress on his joints, regardless of durability. 'The bigger they are, the harder they fall'.
Darting all about the city, staying just shy of Typhon's reach as he circled and moved at speeds that burned and quaked the air, Alexis' eyes hummed, and drew from the pool of power in his cells. And from his eyes, he commanded beams of radio waves to snipe into Typhon's knees at c (the speed of light), beams beyond the visible spectrum of light - invisible, and beams whose radio waves did their damnest in threatening the electrons and ions in Typhon's knees to oscillate with them, beams whose radio waves poured all they had into superheating the fluids in the Warmaster's knees and boil them from within. The knees are the points of structural support for a body's entire mass and weight, under immense pressure when a body is active. And when injured? The body collapses. But at the relativistic velocities Alexis sought to draw Typhon into adopting? Thee Champion's radio wave-beams would do more.
They'd come together with the immense pressure and stress suffered by Typhon's joints from his overpowering speed - and completely tear off both his lower legs from his knees. His foe would be legless, weakened and crippled. Success or none, he'd glance upon her, upon his unlikely ally with a gaze that said what his words did not, "We need to coordinate our attacks against them".
Hunter lost his patience with the twosome. They had strong magics, but gryphons were built to withstand such. After deciding which was more dangerous, he chose to launch his attack on Lady Grimm, pouncing, all sharp beak and sharper claws.
Meanwhile, I was shivering. The Force was going into convulsions around me. This was beyond the average disturbance; this was as if the entire universe was changing. If seen the news report about the doctor in Arizona. He'd said the universe has ceased to exist. I hadn't believed him, but now I needed to see for myself what was happening.
Pulling a shield around my quaking body, I closed my eyes and began to meditate. The force field wouldn't last long against the attacks Bertholdt could throw at me, but at the first sign of pain or danger my soul would come back.
I threw an astral projection into space ad found a ship within Earth's orbit. Immediately I knew what was on board, and I didn't like it one bit. But I threw my projection inside anyways, wanting to see for myself what was going on out here.
I was behind Saul and Animus, though I had a feeling they'd be able to sense my presence. I couldn't allow myself to focus on them. I gave my attention to the form coming through space and time, the hand reaching out as if to take my world in its enormous palm...
The sound of his name caught the estate flat. "Shiinjii" It was winter and the sudden, light breeze brushed in the warm aroma of cooking chicharron gordita and escamoles. It mingled with the busy screeches of public transit buses and hiss of luxury car brakes. Mugen Tsukazaki had mysteriously managed to breeze into the Xalteloco penthouse from the terrace, leaving the glass door open.
His Chelsea boots thumped the polished hardwood. The lively rhythm in his step cracked the penthouses silence. Catching this dead silence, the six foot eight inch Soichiro Sergeant halted his paced step. He pulled out his phone and shot his younger brother a text. Small talk, a check-in on his life. "Hey, Ji I'm getting assigned to Mars this March." he typed and sent to the message.
Standing in the living room he plopped down on the couch and turned on the television. Tonight he hung up the uniform to indulge in some surprise sibling camaraderie. A telenovela blazoned the 60 inch screen. The language and the Mexican restaurant smells wafting through the open door leading to the terrace gave him an appetite. He whipped up a quick bowl of Pho and fried egg in the kitchen then returned back to the couch.
With half an hour passed Mugen checked his phone for Shinji's reply. There was none. He sucked his teeth and changed the channel off the telenovela. He flicked past Univision and stopped on CNN to check what America was up to.
".....Wata-dai prodigene Shinji Tsukazaki has been surrounded in controversy long before the Columbia Murders." the newscaster reported. " In 1996, there was footage of a prepubescent Shinji with his older brother, Mugen drilling in the Sambisa Forests with a gang of children in Nigeria . Nations across the globe struck out at the Tsukazaki family and it's Prime Minister. To this day the public doesn't know whether they were digging up or burying something."
The Soichiro Sergeant scoffed at the Americans fallacious reporting. Nigeria permitted them to operate and dig in the forest.
"...But now the heir seems to be entangled in controversy once again." the news station cut to a muted video clip of Shinji's recent interview for Noticiero Univision. "The Columbia Alumni is under investigation for the murder of an intern at the news station..."
Mugen's stopped chewing his Pho and gulped back the food. He went for his phone and called his brother. "If you don't pick up the god damn phone Shinji..."the Soichiro Sergeant roamed the house. Intuition told him to search the house for something connected to what CNN reported.
An electronic beep sounded in the distance. He pulled the phone away from his ear. It was a ringtone. His heart dropped to his stomach. Shinji was still here. He followed the sound until it lead him to Shinji's bedroom. He stood at the door taking a deep breath. The bed was empty and unmade. He checked the bathroom. Empty.
Never in a million years would Shinji leave without his phone. He picked his brother's phone off the dresser. Text notifications and missed calls littered his lock screen. "What the hell are you up to Shinji?"
Lizzy was not exactly aware of all the cosmiclynwoven intricacies of the nights grandiose horror. While the universe might be under the sway of cataclysmic powers she was a simple minded girl who saw things simply for what they were. And what was, was absolutely God damn awesome, why just the other night Lizzy was trying to tell how that one zombie movie series based on a game wasn't trash but a glorious sort of B movie. How it simultaneously was an insult to the series but better then a variety of other movies based on games somehow. Nobody listened or cared about her undead nerdism but that was fine for today she lived it.
Thee undead plagued the streets no longer bound to their tombs they rose once more. Bile and gore dripped from their gullets a disgusting sight. Their skin and muscle clung loosely to withered bone strength beyond most mortals performed by decaying organs. They shambled and groaned in that glorious noise that was their lack luster attempt at communication. As they stumbled towards the living ravenous and fierce one youthful hero was strictly only elated by the situation.
She'd arrived on the scene beside Gale and to the surprise to at least some she started by just taking a seat by the makeshift helicopter pad encircled by cars. As the bystanders rushed by hoping for a ride out Lizzy looked to be playing a game on a wrist bound apparatus. Through this the diva of drones plugged in her game plan of her various machines.
High above the undead flooded streets was Portal, the bright pink machine helped air craft know where to go and navigate the space. Sonics, a series of spider like drones would run around the area leaping to Portal ocasionally. Their job was to traffic amunition back and forth to near by police and soldiers and more importantly Lizzy's own attack drones. The Kratos drones would fly about set only to make clean head shots they'd provide cover for the civilians, ten in total they'd put down plenty of undead in each moment. However this could only go so far, thus the Onix drones were deployed as well. Darting back and forth and expanding their shields as far as possible they'd provide cover for those evacuating. And much to the giggling delight of Lizzy several of those undead would collide with the zipping Onix drones with enough force to fall over from broken and sometimes even smashed skulls. Meanwhile flying about was Tom, the owl shaped drone that relayed information to Lizzy and her drones. From this she and her small robot faction could tell the heat signatures and use that to know who and who not to shoot.
Lastly of course was Mjolnir her trade marked mech of vibrant pink colored, dubstep playing, tool of total devastation. Standing upon the barrier of cars and rotating to provide overwhelming suppressive fire the mech could cut apart hoards upon hoards of undead with ease. With her technology not only could the Mjolnir distribute six thousand twenty kilometer rounds a minute, but could do so almost endlessly. The SAPHEI ammunition didn't even need to be all that on point to brutalize generic bodies, but her three sixty no scope skills made her basically TheLegend27. She just hoped that maybe the world and her team would recognize her talents. She was processing way more information then her skinny human gamer persona would suggest was possible. "Dia, if ya see you know who let us take care of it. You don't need that on your conscience. Also that's your nickname now, so deal with it and kill these reanimusted." She'd no idea who Animus was, but he was conected somehow so the reanimusted was what Gaige would dub these grave rising horrors as she pwned them.
In the following moments the world fell aside, descending into cataclysmic events as the side effects of monstrous divine forces in play. Physical devastation tore at the world in monstrous droves from the forces that clashed. The earth shattered like glass titanic might and overgrown steps ruptured the soil and as it did the city began to sink. Towers fell and buildings shook till they collapsed a side effect of might that looked to claim the lives of all things living in the city. In retort the new God who was familiar to Ali in his unfamiliarity struck back with an equal show of force. The air ionized and burned in the wake of his movements. Every blinding fast action made the sound barrier scream in protest. But when the new God looked toward the martial arts prodigy all he would see was a ghost. A jade apparition for Alianette was dead.
But only dead by choice
Knowing the powers in play and the little time she had to react Ali chose to switch her spirit with her physical self. As the horrific attacks came and went Alianette went entirely unharmed. Despite the moves that should have grinded bones to powder and heat that should of melted skin she was fine. Yet she was also amongst the dead within the spiritual realm she saw more then just the collision of titans but all the souls of the recently slain. And they came to her, defying their respected Faith's gods or lack of they could tell that one ghost demanded their attention first. They came to her aid and she turned them to the two asailants, seventy percent of the fallen population to the giant the other thirty to the Sith.
What followed was an assault from a legion outside the physical domain. To rip at the soul, the bonding elements of the Force, the chakra, whatever it was that wove the body together beyond the scientific properties. What had been the reward of power of physical dominance Alianette the Reisho Reaper twisted into an instrument of annihilation. In life so many were fragile under the guidance of Alianette however everyone from the war vet to the child had the power of destruction most couldn't comprehend. However the prodigy of life and death was not yet done. She returned to the realm of the living once again, radiant and not a spec of dirt upon her clothing.
A twist of the hand, a simple hand gesture in apearence. From it came an action of elemental control not on the planet but the bodies of those before her. They walked in the physical domain, consisting of matter they were as much elemental configuration as anything else. Oxygen, hydrogen, calcium, iron so many trivial things made up such complex creatures. The child of the Legendary Ishin would seize these mundane components and twist them, pull with a force outside of muscle tone. Seeking to turn organs inside out, to rip flesh and tendon away from its skeletal structure. And to pull the breaking bones apart into their many many seperate parts. The new God could contribute to the human distributed devine punishment as he saw fit, provided anything was left.
Descending from the heavens comes a preverbal hand of God, an abstract mass hailing from one of the beings beyond time and comprehension. Vast enough to crush a city with wave, colossal enough to cup the oceans in its hand. The clouds part before it the shadow it casts eclipse a fraction of the globe in its apocalyptic promise. Not long before this came a call, an outcry to those of the universe before, the primary victims to time and the whims of things outside the fabric of reality. From this call comes a child a forever young abomination turned goddess. At least by her classification.
Having spent years amongst such a colorful cast of people the daughter of Roxom didn't see the monicker of God as much of anything. The claims of the pantheons were by now akin to the words of the commoner. This terror parting the skies however deserved her attention. Rarely was anything worthy of her, worth parting from her studies of cosmic flow. This abomination though she knew to have a name that she cherished. It dared to call itself Warsman, a title that should belong to none but her fallen father of a time forgot. And in a similar vein it needed to die for the rivalry held by Doom.
Doom embraced her, essentially adopting her studies in alchemy and the aether of the universal make up. She'd never known where the pair stood, if she was still a student or equal but it didn't matter. She wasn't there to stop his death but it didn't claw at her. For she had long come to the conclusion that individuals such as herself and Doom didn't need the protection of others or the revival from an anonymous hand. What was great yet dead deserved to remain buried however the weak and frail victimized by the cosmic forces didn't deserve this end. Like the two men she looked up to most the child could be as great as she could be malevolent.
"Gods bore me"
Stepping into the streets her visage concealed by the artificial night of a ginormous shadow Azrael's witch of a daughter, the princess of hell the sassy teenager looked more bored then anything else. The dirt and asphalt became light and gravitons with a thought and enveloped her slender figure. Arriving in an instant before the titanic hand Salem Hex thrusts her blade at a rather casual speed, not that it should matter. It'd be hard to miss the hand that was as massive as a city at the kind of range where she could touch it. And what was a sword to something of such size? Probably was about as imposing as a singular germ.
From that blade though should it make contact came the actions of alchemy on a level few would ever fathom as doable. From her embrace of the philosopher stone her potential was equal to a divine creator. When Doom ventured into Asgaurd she came along and from there Salem collected and analyzed cosmic powers and abstract fundamental concepts learning how one might conjure say the Rainbow bridge or the various realms angels and demons traveled. Creation and destruction were one and the same and with her studious mind Hex sought to undo much of the days nightmares. A monstrous hand of God would be the building blocks of her creation.
For Doom's legacy, for her father's name, and just so she a half breed of a demon could spite a god she sought to turn the hand into the measures she needed to rebuild the cities decimated. To let the recent undead breath again, and the walking corpses rest once again. Truth be told she was a mortal like so many of the pieces in play. She to walked amongst the limitless properties however of her foes and this to her was no more then an extra credit exam to try her hand at. In all the dread and insult Salem also found a hint of fun that might make an actual fight or dialogue something to indulge in.
Just like that the investigation was over, Esme, Shinji; Gia none of that mattered at this point. All she could think about was Davion's lifeless body slumped over his work station--murdered execution style while he dug deeper into the Shinji case. "I'm sorry ma'am, you'll have to vacate the premises this hotel has offcially become a crime scene." One of the federales explained doing his best to force Maya off the premises without incurring her wrath. "G-Goodbye Davion" She said, closing his eyes. The bastards didn't even close his eyes.
"I know it hurts, but you can't assume that this was done by Shinji, there are all types of cartels here in Mexico any one of them could've broke in and killed him." Her supervisor advised trying to speak rational to an irrational Maya.
"Don't you give me that bullshit!" She snapped pushing the comforting hands from her body. "You know damn well that he did this!" Her face burned with emotion, anger and hatred seep through her pores. "I am done doing this the legal way. I hate him, and I'm going to kill him."
Davion was the only person in this new world that'd managed to get close to Maya, he was like her best friend; and with him gone she officially had no one.
She had to leave during her interogation of Shinji, she got a distress call from Davion, the last time she heard his voice it was frantic and full of worry. "They're HERE!, AT THE HOTEL!" The line went blank and Maya jetstreamed back to the hotel, where she found him laying in a pool of his own brain matter.
Streaking across the Mexico City skyline, she flew enroute to the hotel. She could hear the screams of chaos down below, but the emotion running through her system chose to ignore them. She was entirley sure what was happening around the globe, but the Dragon of Solace only wanted to squeeze the life from Shinji's nimble throat.
Landing on the balcony of his hotel, there was no subtle knock, no need to be quiet; nor a need to show a badge.
She could feel the vibrations surging from the apartment, someone was present; it didn't matter she'd find Shinji before this night was over. Concentrated orbs of photon energy surged from the tops of her fingers before culminating in her palms; thrusting them at the sliding doors; Maya's explosion loudly and forcefully blew an opening into Shinji's hotel.
"I can sense it, Hadrian." Chloe Soukas palms and head tingled as her divination guided her to the alien artifact. Her gloved fingers traced the stone door before she pulled it opened. The cavern inhaled the cool French air energizing it's stale organs in what may have been centuries. "It's here."Hadrian rested a hand on his younger sister's shoulder as he stepped past her taking lead. "Amazing. You're an unmatched talent, Chloe." his carnelian eyes smoldered bright in the obsidian cave. A four-note ring crescendo sounded as a diamond light flickered above the siblings heads. Lighting the darkness. "See It's the small things you do, sis. Details."
"If you don't stop talking to me like your fiancee, I'm killing you and leaving you to rot with whatever else died in this cave."a shrewd smirk traced her ruby painted lips. "I hear how you talk to her on the phone."her electric blue eyes scanned over the walls for markings or clues to the culture attached to the cave. The groom-to-be flashed strong, white teeth brushing his fingers on the grizzle growing on his chin. "It's called being supportive to the ladies in my life."Chloe scoffed and refocused her divination energy on the antiquity of the cave. "Gross."she sucked her teeth at the barrage of images of Carmen Tsukazaki and Viktor Lundgren, Hadrian's father-in-law. "Fair, I'll compliment you once....every year." A satisfied smirk sustained on her face. "OK." she curtly replied, Hadrian had no clue what she was truly scoffing about.
"Is it getting warmer in here or..." Hadrian glanced up at Chloe's diamond light, pulling at his high collar. "Does that radiate heat?"A melody rang above their heads, each note increasing the brightness of the diamond light. "Chloe!" the Impresario shielded his eyes from the blinding white light. "Do you feel warmer or just blind?" She snickered passing him by as his eyes recovered to the correct sensitivity. "Hold off on the pranks sis, we don't know what we're dealing with."Chloe shrugged then perked up at a wan pink light up ahead. "Bingo!" she took off sprinting.
"Chloe--wait!"Hadrian was left in the dust and the dark. She snuffed out the diamond light. He traced the wall of the cavern with his hands, picking up his pace, the crimson light growing stronger. "AAAIIEEE!"Chloe's scream shattered the cold silence of the cave. "CHLOE."he grumbled catching a sprint. The crown of his foot caught a cleft in the ground and launched his body off the cliff. "YAAAGHH!" an animalistic cry snuck from his throat. Suspended in the air, Chloe snickered defying gravity as her brother got pulled by gravity. "AAAGGH--!" Chloe caught him by his combat boot and let him drop face first from the one foot left.
"It looks amazing" Chloe gushed hovering towards the ember artifact. It was looked alive and pulsated like a beating heart. "Dammit Chloe!"Hadrian combed his hair from his face and stood back on his feet, fuming."Stop fu--oh." the Sienese Prince stood in sheer awe of the embellished gem. "It's like the heart of this cave." Chloe circled it like a predator plotting it's prey. "Come here Chloe, don't touch it!"She snapped her hand back from the gem like Hadrian's words zapped her. "Whaaat? I found it." she pouted, strutting towards him with her arms crossed. "Look up. Shh-shh" Hadrian pointed up to the roof of the cavern. A large, obsidian rectangle plate was embedded around the cavern rocky surface. "Someone beat us here and you know what that means..."
A loud crack popped from the roof. It sounded like a dense bowling ball rolling across wood. The ring of metal reverberated the cavern while simultaneously shattering the obsidian glass. Shirtless, pale figures gnashed and groveled as they free fell to the perimeter below.
"Lucifer, the hell are those things?"Chloe gasped backing beside Hadrian, transitioning into a defensive stance. "I don't think we have the luxury of finding out right now." He unholstered his semi-automatic pistols Eros & Psyche, switching to auto and training on a descending target....
He knew it was coming. He'd known for some time now. But what he could he do?
A disturbance in the fabric of the multiverse rippled through the endless sea of creation. All other voices were silenced, not through shock, but first in despair, then in no will of their own. For now they were gone, drowning beneath what was once a ripple, but now made itself known as a hurricane. From afar, another storm joined, a force of godly might, this one with a wrath both same, yet different than its predecessor. There currents ripped away at those who stood near, drawing them inwards where most were torn apart by the sheer might of the raging storms. Those that were foolish enough to stand against it were encompassed, and brought into the eye of hurricane.
A gaze so unholy was what awaited them, and after?
Oblivion.
Orion Woods, the Omega, stared from afar at the events that transpired, the carnage wrought by this unstoppable force. The anomaly that he was, Omega felt it all. Existing and yet not, unbound by this plane yet forced to feel all the ill effects upon it, he could only helplessly watch as all was left for ruin. A mere observer to the cosmic terror that besieged his home, his world.
What could he do?
He had only just been able to feel his higher being, he had no option of enacting on it. For as almighty as Element-H made him, he was but of flesh and bone. Looking up once more, Omega saw the end of all things encroaching, leaving nothing in its wake. Staring at the perfect storm, he realized that ultimately, he could only do what he always did.
He could fight!
Los Angeles
The ground quaked, and the buildings crumbled. The world was deafened with screams of terror as the people began to realize that the end was nigh. Omega was shook out of his thoughts, the heralding of this new deity making its presence known. He had seen him on the other plane, the second storm. Now Animus had come. He would have to go to the source of the disturbance. Someone who made as unsubtle an entrance as... this did not have good intentions. Rising from where he had taken refuge, Omega prepared for what be his final battle.
Then he felt something else. The natural laws of life and death be bent, twisted, and finally broken. And from the lifted veil, there was a rage, one that was pure. And its gaze was pointed at him.
Lifting his head up to gaze, Omega saw them. They rose from the cracks in the road, the shadows of alleys, and the dirt of the earth. They were a shuffling mass, the now soulless husks of people who had long since come to an end. People who had merely been collateral damage from his past, their clothing weathered and flesh hanging by the sinews of burnt flesh. Within them, all love and care that their souls had once had was extinguished, the hollow echo's of pain and anger all that remained. And they were not alone. Soldiers from long ago lined up, a march of soldiers from as far back as the Great War, armed with their guns and bayonets formed ranks with the armies of today. They looked at him, the hundreds, the nameless who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time... and they were silent.
Omega placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, looking straight into the eyes of the people he had wronged. His mind was still, calm. He had come to terms many of his wrongs long ago, albeit still regretting them. However, if it was between having to kill them all over again, and saving the living of today, he would not hesitate.
In a swift motion, the masses armed their weapons, and fired, the sound deafening the air as a volley of lead moved to meet Omega. Smoke enveloped the Element-H man, and before long he was invisible to the eyes of the onlookers. After several minutes of continuous fire, they stopped, the majority of them out of ammo. The air calmed down, and the anxious onlookers awaited to see the riddled body of Omega .
A red gleam cut through the smoke, slicing through the front row of zombies, leaving severed limbs to drop. Through the dust, Omega could be seen, Indignation drawn. With a battle cry, the samurai charged into the horde. A blur of motion, he moved through them, stabbing, slashing, hacking them to pieces. Those who still had ammunition fired, only for the bullets to ricochet off his blade and into nearby undead.
After a minute or two, Omega slashed through the last corpse in his view. Brushing the blood off of his outfit, he moved past the carnage. Better keep moving. There's more out there, and civilians need to be taken care of.
Moving onward, Omega began to sprint down the winding roads, cutting a corner down a nearby street to the source of the commotion, making sure to make short work of the zombies he came across. At the epicenter however, he faltered.
Standing in a ring of a demolished street, One of the corpses stepped forth, holding a crying little girl in its grasp. It appeared to be a female, garbed in tattered clothing, with half of her face exposing the skeleton underneath the flesh. The other half was charred, her eye a white imprint on her blackened face, while on her neck, there was a white scar. She was nearly unrecognizable.
But Orion Woods never forgot a face.
"Diana?" Orion whispered.
"You killed us," Tina spoke, her voice hoarse from the years underneath the dirt. Her hands, despite their degraded state, gripped tightly onto the knife pressed to the girls throat. "All of us."
Omega lurched forward, the blade digging deeper into his gut with every move he made. His blood, black as the sky above, leaked from his wounds as he lied on the ground helpless. “N-no!” His arm stretched outward in vain towards the burning building in front of him. Another explosion ruptured the side of the complex, wood splinters raining down on top of him.
Orion's brow creased, his gaze shifting to all of those behind his undead wife. "It...it wasn't my fault-"
"Not. Your. Fault!?" Diana shrieked in outrage, the strain on her vocals giving way. Her grasp tightened on the little girl, who wriggled underneath, trying desperately break free. Omega took a hesitant step forward, but Diana dug the knife deeper into the girls throat, drawing a trickle of blood.
"It wasn't your fault when you butchered by father? When Zoe was tortured?" Diana's body shook, her voice giving way to the anger and sadness she never got the chance to show. "When I died? Heh, it's like your brother said Orion!"
“I told you brother,” the echoing footsteps as Alpha slowly descended from the front porch drew Omega’s attention. Gritting his teeth until he tasted blood, he shakily rose to his feet, eyes locked on the man in front of him.
“Wherever you go, the only thing you bring is misery, and death.” Alpha lifted Diana Grayson's head up to shoulder level, the rest of her body dragging uselessly behind her, a stab wound in her belly leaking blood. Diana's swollen, charred lips moved as if to say something, but no words came out, her body weak and worn. Lazily, she met Omega’s gaze. If there was ever a sadder face, it would have made the devil weep.
Alpha brought the knife to Diana's neck, slit her throat, and let the woman’s body drop.
"Stop it," Omega said, the memories flooding into his mind, "please."
"All you've ever done is bring pain to the people around you Orion." Diana continued, not stopping to listen to his pleas of agony. "You've never saved a single God damn soul in your life, only doomed them." Diana stepped forward, dragging the girl with her. "It's time Orion. Time to pay for your sins."
"Let the girl go Diana!" Indignation shot out of its sheath, point directly at the woman he loved. "Don't make me do it."
"I know you...you couldn't live with yourself, watching it happen again." Diana gritted her teeth. "You'll stand there and watch her die, just like me, and just like our daughter!"
"That was a long time ago."
"And this is now!" Diana threw her knife at Orion, a superheated glow singeing the air around it. catching him offguard, the knife sank into his chest, leaving a searing wound. Glancing back up, he watched as Diana prepared to snap the girls neck. A stream of fire shot out from the air, consuming his wife and the little girl. The last thing the Element-H warrior heard was his wife's screams of agony, as he once again suffered the fate of watching her being swallowed by the inferno. Diana stumbled forward, dropping the dying girl, who was soon incinerated by the fire.
Orion reached forward, grasping his wife into his arms. Looking into the dying light in her eyes, Orion sank his head.
There were no words, there was only a sad, broken man, grasping at the lifeless body of the woman he loved, and cradling it in his arms. Sobbing, tears that burned his very being, hotter than the light in his chest, and more painful than the knife within him. He gently wiped away the wet mud clamped hair from Diana's forehead, trying his best to retain the image of his wife that he wanted, one that smiled, and looked at him as if he were a hero, as if he were invincible. Nothing bad would happen as long as he was there to help.
Orion, lying there, held his wife, trying as hard as he could to keep her intact. But he wasn’t strong enough. Wind came by, the harsh, cruel breeze sweeping her away from him, so as she was nothing more than dust in the wind. He had nothing. Orion, shaking with sadness, looked down at his hands with horror.
Above the fire goddess wrath burned without end.
But below, an anger long forgotten rose. Neglected, it yearned to be noticed, to be shown once more. It wanted nothing more than to destroy. And rearing his head back, Omega let it loose.
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