Between Assassins & Angels

Africa

Bladed Angels.

A man in a finely pressed suit sat in what use to be the meeting room of the Bladed Angels he ran a hand over brown short cut hair , all around him laid destruction from a previous battle with their own security. It was obvious to the two leaders that the man had come from the government; he carried a small fire arm placed on his right hip and another in an ankle holster. The man had seen action and tried his best to hide that fact. Finally they took the seat across from him and he slid the envelope across to them. “In that file you will find a document on Aztrec. They run forty nine percent of drugs trafficking between and ; of course most of the world knows Aztrec as a clothing manufacture. For the last seven years we have been trying to build a case against them”. The man stopped for a moment to see if they where keeping up. “Four years ago we came across a young man named Adam Wister, this man has vital information that will allow us to finally close the case against Aztrec, We have tried to locate him ourselves and have to this day had no luck.” Brushing dust off the top of his left arm, he turned back to them. 

“So you need us to find him?” Tormenta asked his voice echoing around the room “No, I need you to protect him.” Ruin Cross looked at the man “Protect him?” , leaning forward the man stressed his next point carefully “We have no doubt in our mind, that we would have found him before Aztrec, You see Adam is a telepath, he is unaware of his powers, but it is enough to keep him one foot ahead of them.” Ruin smiled “And you.” The Government man ignored the words and continued. “But Aztrec have recently signed a contract with the OSC, im sure you are aware of the threat this team of assassins poses to the target. From the intel we have gathered they will be entering the country one at a time in different locations. It is of the highest importance that we find and protect the target. We will of course provide you with expenses and pay you extremely well.” Ruin and Tormenta looked at each other a shadow of doubt glazed over each of their eyes, the man spoke one more time before the deal was done, “I will also provide you with the information of the person who hacked your system.” 

OSC

The cathedral sat in a darkening air of silence, Sitting in front of Gamblers desk was a man in a white suit and a pair of dark sunglasses. He had short black hair and a snake like smile. He had been shown to his seat by Gamblers sectary and forced to wait before the Cajun arrived. The double doors behind the man swung open as Gambler entered, crossing his legs as if nothing had happened he waited as the master assassin took the seat behind the desk and glared over at him behind two white pupils. His fingers interlocked as his elbows rested upon the table, he had a lot on his mind his body guard was missing presumed dead at the hands of Kurrent, Final Arrow was MIA and Surreal had become more distant. “Why are you here heir to Aztrec, I do not deal in drugs.” The young man smiled and bowed his head “I understand but you do deal in death? I require a man to how do you say vanish.” Gambler thought for a moment “You agree the fee?” “Of course.” Standing Gambler walked back towards the door. “The OSC never turn down a job when the price is right. “ 

The man stood and followed him, “Thank you”. “Do not thank me yet, there is more to this tale before it is finished. “ with a nod the man left, Gambler had Sophie inform the rest of his the team, the hunt was on and it would not belong before the hunt became bloody. He already knew of his target and the protectors that had been hired, his eyes and ears where all around the world and yet this Adam Wister had managed to stay one step ahead of his informants and that interested him, it interested him a great deal.      
 
Normal RPG rules apply: See http://www.comicvine.com/forums/rpg/9/official-rpg-rules/696/#7   if unsure. 
 
This RP is for OSC and Bladed Angels  
 
OCC to follow.

Italy

Just one Week Ago

Now

Japan

The methodical samurai, clad in silver samurai armor, darted over the wooden shingles across the Japanese rooftop with only his shadow knowing of his presence. As he came closer to the edge, he began to bend down with his knees with his amazing flexibility, when finally, he pushed with his legs and propelled himself into mid-air. Due to the monstrous weight of his armor, he quickly began to plummet towards the surface. As planned, a black mount, moving at full-speed, caught the samurai exactly before he hit the concrete plane. The stallion came to a halt, as Ruin took a moment to accommodate the surroundings of the Japanese village. His coal black eyes, wiped over the land once more. The swaying of the red roses in the garden, the relaxing aroma of incents, the red wood crafted dojos, the sparrows scavenging for food, and the lanterns along with the full moon- illuminated the scenery. The moonlight danced off of his sterling armor, causing him to look like a phantom in the night. Then like a ghost, not seen and not heard, he rode off into the dark forest. 

His stride through the forest was a slow and silent one. He honored the creatures of the natures, therefore would not risk disturbing them. They all seemed so marvelous, so exquisite. Just as many who slept, many were awake. A term known as nocturnal. Sleep through the day, hunt during the night. A philosophy he could call his own. As his sluggish expedition maintained, he enjoyed the tranquility of the night. The few sounds and noises that were heard were beautiful ones. The mocking bird mimicking itself during the night, the cricket’s song, insects humming in joy, the whistle of the wind through the trees. All were more then amazing, but none were as splendid as beloved Owl. A creature he adored, and idolized. Their binocular vision, their stealth, their unpredictableness. And they resided at yet another beauty of the forest, the trees. Standing firm and tall the trees are better known as the sentries of the forest, guarding it for eternity. Without warning, the keeper of balance vanished in thin air.

Bladed Angel’s Island

Ruin tossed his legs over the side of his elegant mattress. He pushed aside the drapes that hung around his bed set. As he stretched, his eyes wiped across his room looking for any dissimilarity. A usual protocol he did to make sure the Ayudante had not gone rogue again. The fortress of the Bladed Angel’s was still recovering from the destruction of the security system known as “Erik”.  Ever since, he did not allow any of the androids to have access to his room. After he had assured himself that no one had removed any of his items he moved to his large closet. Sliding his arms into his genuine lion skin robe, the chill of the castle was quickly no longer his problem.

He fell into a meditating position in the middle grand room. A room fit for a king. The corners were lined with the purest gold, the walls were a glimmering silver, and the two additions his room had were the “lab” and “computer database.” He began his morning prayer to the gods, asking them to bless the Bladed Angels in every way possible. A red light blinked on his ceiling. He was being beckoned to the meeting room. Staying in his meditation position, Ruin Cross disappeared. And half a second later, he appeared in a large chair next to Tormenta. A professionally dressed man, who was clearly about his business, sat across from them. After sliding an envelope towards Ruin and Tormenta, the man began to speak. “In that file you will find a document on Aztrec. They run forty nine percent of drugs trafficking between and ; of course most of the world knows Aztrec as a clothing manufacture. For the last seven years we have been trying to build a case against them. Four years ago we came across a young man named Adam Wister, this man has vital information that will allow us to finally close the case against Aztrec, We have tried to locate him ourselves and have to this day had no luck.”

Conversation was exchanged between the three men. Ruin was uneasy about what the “Angels” were being asked to do. This was not the usual business that the “Bladed Angels” attended too. However, it was important to find out who had managed to break through the encryption of the Bladed Angels security system. They could not afford to let a problem such as that one happen a second time. Tormenta was the leader now, this was a decision that he was to make. Turning his head to the black clad assassin, Ruin spoke “I trust you will make the right decision. What ever you decide I will be there to aid you and the Bladed Angels.” Almost as if he knew that Tor would take the job, he proceeded back to his room. To gear up for this new mission. Against a team that was nothing less then a threat to the world. The Order of Sancta Camisia. A villainous team led by the malicious leader known as the Cajun.

  “I will also provide you with the information of the person who hacked your system.” 
 
The Black-Clad Assassin weighed down the situation. His team had been offered a good pay check for protecting a man from a group called the Order of Sancta Carisima. Although the Bladed Angel thought it was a risk, he couldn't just drop such an offer. The Disciple of Deception found himself torn between protecting his teammates and subordinates from harm while also looking at the benefits of helping the Government. Well having a country always needing our assistance will put this team in a good situation... Tormenta thought. However, he didn't know the full capabilities of his opponents, and the Black-Clad Assassin liked to be prepared. It nagged him though, that someone had hacked his computer system in an attempt to kill off the team. He snarled in anger.
 
I just want to kill the person who destroyed the mansion, he thought. And this one job will put me one step closer to that. Tormenta nodded his head in agreement with the Contractor. What he had offered had been the icing on the cake; the trump card, and a good trump card too. The White-Suited Leader pushed himself away from the desk and stood up. He gave Ruin a wink and then looked at the Government Contractor with a stern face. "You've got a deal, I want the motherf#cker who messed my home up."  The Contractor pulled a paper and took a pen from his pocket. "Good, just sign here and here." The Disciple of Deception ripped the pen from the businessman and then signed the  two lines using his alias, John Stoudemire."We'll keep our part of the bargain," Tormenta said, "you just make sure your side does too." The Contractor took the paper immediately afterwords, slipping it cautiously in his suitcase, and grabbed the pen from Tormenta. "Now you realize, if you fail we will prosecute you for the time and effort we've put into getting you. That means we'll take the mansion," the Government Contractor pointed all around him but after seeing a busted-in wall added, "Well, what's left of it, anyways. "
 
The Black-Clad Assassin grinned with a tormented pleasure. He stepped towards the Contractor and rested his hand hand on his shoulder. "Now we both know I'll kill you, the President, and half of everyone else before anyone takes this away from me. Now please, I think you should leave the island." The Contractor hastily got up and, closing his suitcase, rushed out of the room. The Disciple of Deception looked at Ruin Cross with a devious smile and then yelled after the man, "That's not a threat though, just a warning." Tormenta shook his head with a boisterous smirk. He looked at the desk and grabbed the envelope. Prying it open, Tormenta pulled out a series of documents, notes, and pictures which he laid out across the desk in front of himself, Ruin Cross having already left. "This is Aztec," he said to himself, pointing at one of documents. "The enemy of our new friends." Sitting on the desk, the Black-Clad Assassin picked up another document and read a few sentences. " I need to make copies of this for everyone, and I'll definitely want them to read it and memorize it. Plus," the Disciple of Deception pondered. "It wouldn't be half-bad if we got some documents on this Order of Sancta Carisima." 
 
 
 Hours later the Bladed Angel looked at his fellow teammates seated around the desk. He was standing, showing the team an overview of what was going to happen. Tormenta kept the last folder to himself as he passed the information out to his team. He knew the various information in each folder. He had copied the papers from the envelope and added vague information about the Order of Sancta Carisima. It was hard to find information on them since their criminal record wasn't what he thought it would be. The OsC seemed to be controlling strings of situations, avoiding trouble with the knowledgeable and veteran leader Gambler at their helm. The Black-Clad Assassin also remembered adding information about the man they were going to be protecting and escorting with a few pictures of him as well.  With his teammates observing the folders before them, Tormenta finally broke the ice.
 
"I'm not going to lie to you guys. This is about revenge." The Black-Clad Assassin slammed his hand against the desk. "The Government has offered us information on who broke into the systems and subsequently destroyed our mansion. That's the main reason I accepted the task. After much debate with myself I decided that you are capable at completing this job. So I'm not, honestly, worried about this next assignment." At that moment the projector turned on revealing an enlarged image of Adam Wister. "This is our job. Mr. Wister's safety is our main priority.... And for that reason I've decided that a few members will stay near him for protection if we run into this... Order of Sancta Carisima. The rest of us will engage the enemy and attempt to stop any interaction between the body guard's and these assassins. If it so happens that they make it past us, then the people assigned to Mr. Wister's safety will flee the area; with or without us.Take this mission with extreme caution. " The Black-Clad Assassin was finished with the overview and added a few, last remarks. " I want everyone to read and memorize the papers inside. Take all situations seriously and act like every minute we're protecting Adam Wister is the last minute of your life. This assignment official starts now, everyone get ready and meet here in an hours time. I expect you prompt and prepared; so think of the hours time like forty-five minutes instead. I'll see you then."

 The tall, muscular man frantically typed the access codes into the weapon system’s computer. The fate of the war, and possibly the world was in his hands. He checked the time; only three minutes to launch. His partner stood a few paces away from him, his assault rifle drawn, ready to gun down any who would dare to foil their mission. Only two minutes and thirty seconds remaining. Everything seemed poised for success, only for the unthinkable to happen: the computer’s security lock enabling. The shock and realization of what had just happened left the two Dead Cell operatives speechless. Two minutes until certified destruction. Reaching for the comm-link, they reported their failure. Over the connection, the suicide shot of their commanding officer rang out. One minute remaining. The machine whirred to life, the final preparations being made for the launch of its nuclear missiles. The two operatives ran for their extraction point. The missiles launched. The facility exploded, instantly engulfing the two failures. Everything was dark. There were no sounds, no smells. His partner was dead, and he knew he’d join him soon. A helicopter descended overhead, quickly lowering a ladder to the single survivor. His remaining hand, covered in blood, reached out for the ladder, as he struggled to hold on to what little life he had left. His vision began to fade. His strength left him. His hand slowly fell, and he felt the cold embrace of death begin to take him…

Michael McReary awoke from his dream with a jump, drenched in a cold sweat. Wiping the drool from his mouth he observed his surroundings curiously before he finally remembered where he was: his room in the mansion of the Bladed Angels. He was sitting on the floor at his bedside, leaned against it. Beside him were two bottles of whiskey, one empty and the other about a quarter of the way full. Michael slowly pulled himself up, mumbling to himself. “Definitely need to stop drinking.” He dragged himself over to the bathroom, stopping at the sink to throw cold water over his face. As he dried his face off, he looked into the mirror, examining his facial features. “Hmm…need to shave later.” He said to himself, rubbing his hand across his face before he headed over to his closet.

His closet was extremely well-organized, everything sorted according to color and type. Michael picked out a white shirt and a pair of black jeans and quickly got dressed, unable to think of anything but the dream he had just experienced. A few seconds…He thought. Just a few seconds, and it all could have been different…Dismissing the thought, he headed towards the door. He had been told there was an urgent meeting to be held downstairs, and it would’ve been rude to be late. Michael stopped one step beyond his door, pondering for a brief second before reentering his room. Grabbing the whiskey bottle, he downed the remainder of the alcohol before heading to the briefing.

Michael seated himself around the desk along with the rest of his fellow Bladed Angels, still smelling slightly of alcohol. He had only been seated a few minutes when Tormenta, their leader, began to pass out folders to each member. Michael examined the folder contents: a few pictures of a man designated as Adam Wister, and some information and pictures on an organization called the Order of Santa Camisia. He adjusted his eyepatch slightly and began to read over this information when Tormenta began to speak.

"I'm not going to lie to you guys. This is about revenge." The Bladed Angels leader slammed his fist on the table, causing Michael to look up at him, giving him his full attention. “The Government has offered us information on who broke into the systems and subsequently destroyed our mansion. That's the main reason I accepted the task. After much debate with myself I decided that you are capable at completing this job. So I'm not, honestly, worried about this next assignment." Michael scratched his chin, his focus on Tormenta’s words. He had not been present when their supercomputer Erik had tried to terminate his teammates, but he had heard and seen the results of it. At this moment, a projector spurred to life, showing another picture of Adam Wister. "This is our job. Mr. Wister's safety is our main priority.... And for that reason I've decided that a few members will stay near him for protection if we run into this... Order of Sancta Camisia. The rest of us will engage the enemy and attempt to stop any interaction between the body guard's and these assassins. If it so happens that they make it past us, then the people assigned to Mr. Wister's safety will flee the area; with or without us.Take this mission with extreme caution.” Michael looked over the contents of the folder again. The mission seemed simple enough, which long ago would have given him a sense of comfort, but his battle experience quickly eliminated these thoughts. He knew that the simplest of missions are often the deadliest. Tormenta began to speak again. "I want everyone to read and memorize the papers inside. Take all situations seriously and act like every minute we're protecting Adam Wister is the last minute of your life. This assignment officially starts now, everyone get ready and meet here in an hours time. I expect you prompt and prepared; so think of the hours time like forty-five minutes instead. I'll see you then.”

The meeting was dismissed, and Michael headed up to his room without a word. Now was the time for focus. He reached out with his telekinesis; grabbing first his two customized M1911A1s setting those upon his dresser, then grabbing his sneaking suit. Using his telekinesis to dress himself, he grabbed his weapons, checking to be sure they were loaded properly before holstering them. Looking into the mirror, he adjusted his eyepatch again, his focus now completely on the mission. In his mind he was no longer just Michael Aiden McReary. In his mind, he had become Fatal.

Seaside Heights - 1:30 p.m

Bladed Angels Island - 2:00 p.m

Cass took long strides as she walked into the cathedral that housed The Order's headquarters, her sword slung over her shoulder. It had been a long night and she could feel the adrenaline rush starting to fade. She sheathed her sword as she continued walking towards her quarters. She had a file waiting in there that she had been putting off looking at. She sighed. T.J. had given it to her as a sign of good faith and she was scared to see what was inside of it. He was really, really good at his job and she could only hope that she was better at hers. If he was able to get pertinent information on her, then that meant that it was out there for other people to access. It was one thing if it was information on one of her aliases, she could deal with that, but if it were information on her true name, then she would have to call in some favors to get it erased, to get herself erased.  
 
It was then that she heard Sophie over the comms that the team generally carried. "Team, we have our next mission. The mark is a go. I'm sending you all files pertaining to it." Cass almost immediately felt her Blackberry buzzing in it's holster. She picked it up and started scrolling through the inbox. There was an encrypted e-mail from the account that was used to send mission specs and files. She opened it up and started reading as she walked towards her bedroom, where she had all her weapons and her go-bag. Her eyes widened when she saw who the hit was on and who his association was with. Aztrec. What an interesting development. She walked into her bedroom while still reading the files. Cass grabbed her go-bag, the duffel full of everything that she would need at a moment's notice and her weapons bag and started walking out to her car. They all had separate entry-points, making it harder for others to track them and it was time for her to get going. 

Being the splinter group of the Bladed Angels, High Caliber is called upon whenever the Balance Keepers need some extra aid. Since they no longer had their robotic servants to help them, B.A. needed some old fashioned man power to clean up the aftermath of their battle against their own A.I. system.   Frank heaved a suitcase sized chunk of rubble. It was too hard to tell if it was once part of the wall or ceiling, just like a lot of things that have become unrecognizable. Continuing tossing debris into a pile, Myers wore an open collar, white, button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, which was tucked into a tailored pair of black slacks. Frank had hardly any variety in his apparel what so ever and whore something along those lines for every occasion. Taking some precaution, he had on work gloves and protective glasses.

The Abstract had never been to the mansion or the island before, and hearing so much of its beauty he wish he had seen it prior all the destruction. He grabbed an arm that once belonged to one of the Ayudantes, examines it for a second and thinks, “Technology has really come along way since the color TV.”   then disregards with the rest of the junk. Frank turned and started walking towards the other end of the room when he stepped on something. The shattering sound and the way it cracked under his weight let him know it was glass. He squats down and picks up a picture frame then wipes his hand across the front to remove the dirt. It was an 8x11 photograph of the originally team playing a game of football. It must have been a holiday or one of the few down times the group had. A smirk creeps across the agent’s face as he thinks, “Aren’t they just an unlikely bunch of aliens and ultra powerful creatures.”

Standing back up he cleans a spot off the mantel and places the picture on it. “Ah, Frank, we got a debriefing in about a minute. We’ll be in the meeting room… or what’s left of it.” Someone said as they passed the room he was working in. Without turning to see who it was he replies, “Sure thing.” Frank took off his glasses and sticks them into his shirt pocket. Then he takes off his right hand glove and pulls a small washcloth out of his back pocket and cleans the sweat, dirt and grime off his face. Stuffing the rag back into his pocket, he walks through the hole in the wall which leads him into the hallway. He casually walks until he reached the meeting room.

Frank made it to the door way just as the Disciple of Deception fiercely smacks the table. Leaning on the doorway, Myers listens as Tormenta gave the gist of the new mission. The Technicolor Ghost takes his eyes off the B.A. leader and scans the faces of the rest of the team. As a whole they weren’t as colorful as the original team seamed to be in the picture, but most of them did stick out. But he made no judgment because he didn’t know them and frankly they didn’t know him. In fact he introduced himself to the guys as “Frank Myers”. No fancy codename. No description of his powers. His own team hadn’t even seen his superhuman abilities in action. The Black-Clad Assassin finished his speech and one of the members, Closure, burst out asking for an explanation of the mission.

Walking over to the man he grabs an extra folder packed with documents off the table. After thumbing through it for a little while he says. “It seams to me that we just became, super powered babysitters, buddy."

  Amanda searched through a couple of file's in her room that she had stolen from various place's trying to search for her missing sister Ashley, her sister has been missing for week's and was nowhere to be seen, but Amanda was not gonna give up on finding her only sister and the only family member she had who was alive. Amanda would go out at night as Cat Burglar and search around Vine City but no matter where she would search her sister could not be found. The last time Amanda saw her sister was when she tried to arrest Cat Burglar for trying to steal a Egyptian Cat Statue cause it was her duty as a cop but lucky Amanda got away and that was the last time she had seen her sister. Amanda with rage threw the file's off the table and punched the wall as hard as she can letting out all of her anger that she kept built inside her from thinking about her sister, she then noticed her white cat  who was staring at her with it's diamond shape eye's which made her calm down and smile. Amanda reached for her cat but then it suddenly ran away like lightning when there was a hard knock on the door.
  

Amanda quickly got up from her chair and opened her draw where she kept her knife in, she picked up the knife and slowly walked up to the door and opened it she then noticed it was just Sophie, Gambler's secretary. Amanda raised one eyebrow and threw the knife on her bed and spoke. " What do you want?! can't you see I'm busy?!". Amanda shouted. Sophie eye's widen and just handed her a letter and replied back. " I just came to give you this in privet since I know your always busy Ms. Frost to hear the announcements". Sophie smiled and walked away, Amanda quickly closed the door and began to read the letter, it was information about a mission but why now, Amanda was far too busy trying to find her sister, but she had no choice but to follow order's, she sighed and walked up to her closet and opened it where her black cat leather suit stood. Amanda grabbed it and began to suit up taking every gadget she would need for this mission. Amanda then leaped out the window and went to the garage and got on her Cat-Mobile which was made by Michael, Amanda smiled and press a red switch turning the Cat-Mobile into a Jet, Amanda then flew off to Africa.   

Another one of those days that’s how Michael would characterize this day, there was so much work to be done and he though only he could do it. After the recent vampire crisis he had been through and after deciding not to follow the OSC in the past, he wasn’t on Gambler’s good side. But strangely it didn’t bother him, he was too preoccupied with his experiments to think about Gambler. He then turns his sight again to his workshop, the catacombs deep beneath the OSC headquarters, the Chartres Cathedral. The catacombs were perfect for the type of work he did, he could use the darkness inside them to cover the secrets the he kept, secrets that never should have seen the light of day. He began walking towards one of the rooms in the north-east corner of the cathedral, the sound of one’s pace could be heard from miles, yet when he walked no sound could be heard it was as if he had bounded with the darkness that surrounded him, strangely he had lost his control over the darkforce.

The room had a very strange smell, a smell composed of two separate smells, the smell of ammoniac, doctors who worked in hospitals would have felt right at home and the smell of bodies dead bodies. It was only natural, because the Fly didn’t come empty handed from Italy, he brought a few of his vampire friends along, he carefully placed them into body bags, hanged them like meat in a meat factory. He needed test subject, how else was he to gain what they had to offer if he hadn’t taken them. His table the one he used to chop their bodies into smaller pieces, to use for his horrific experiments, pieces of flesh were still on the table along with a giant spot of blood.

Suddenly an alarm went off, he had designed these catacombs like a prison, people could get in but not come out, the reason was a simple one he would knew, every rock, any fly that flew through those catacombs, any bat that was born or any rat that died in there. He spend most of his time there perfecting it, building security systems, traps. This time a certain secretary would visit him.” Gambler’s stooge, no doubt here to question me, why I haven’t helped in Gambler’s rescue.” The fact was he thought he would have been better off if he had never returned. But he was wrong, she was here with one reason and that was to give him the order that Gambler gave her, to transmit to all the members of the OSC.

Seeing how she could not move forward she reached a room with a giant grandfather clock, seeing how she could not move forward she decided to wait for him there. During this time, Michael used a personalized subway car, to reach her faster. Michael decides to enter the room through the door she first entered, not wanting her to see more than it’s necessary. “OK Sophie speak, what us it you want now? I am a busy man, you know.” Seeing him agitated didn’t seem to impress her at all, although her calm state did worry Michael a bit, could she know more than she’s telling, the Fly began to think. “Mr Gambler has required you presence for a new mission.” “A new mission? Let me guess he want us to assassinate a few werewolves. ” He brutally interrupts her, “No, you and the other members of the Order, are to kill the Bladed Angels. Shall I tell him you do not want to participate?” He took a good look at her, and then he laid his back on the wall behind him, with his hands folded. “You go tell him I have to know who we are dealing with, you remember what happened last time I didn’t do my homework.” As she exited the room, Michael couldn’t help but think of these Blade Angels.

Suddenly one of his guardian spirits come to advice him in the matter, dressed in medieval Japanese clothing and carrying a katana with a built in shotgun in it, his name was Rai-Dei the Blade. “You should concentrate more on your experiments rather than trying to keep this Gambler on your side.” Hurt by his useless comment, Michael enraged reply, “You fool, this isn’t about satisfying that fool’s honor among assassins or the fact that this fraction is a assassins organization, this is about more, much more. When I am going to be done with Gambler, he will be nothing more than what you are to me, a puppet, a person that does my bidding, a weapon I use for combat. And the same goes for his army of assassins.” Hours later he and a few other members of the Order, landed on a small town airport, as Michael was getting out of the Order’s private plane. The Technological Terror couldn’t help but think, if there was anything to gain from this upcoming battle with the Bladed Angels.

Somewhere Over Zaire, Africa

Within the broken walls of the Bladed Angels base...

Just as he finished his sentence, Frank heard someone say his name, and his eyes shot over to the direction of the voice. A member of the current Bladed Angels sat at the opposite side of the table. His eyes were as cold as his skin was pale and his body was covered in some bizarre clothing. The man continued asking questions and throwing around accusations and Frank couldn’t help but feel like he was supposed to know the answers. How could the man have known anything about the agent? They’ve never met before, Myers assumed. The Abstract examined the man’s face very closely. Right then all the pieces came together. The Fox saying he was still alive, the string of murders on former scientist of the Corps, and the fact that the man just made statements proving his knowledge.

“Verkmin…” Frank says in disbelief. For about 5 years after the explosion, The Abstract studied the man’s face and went over and over in his mind what he would say and do if he ever had the chance to meet the Professor again. That man had changed his life forever, with a single serum. “Five years… Five years…” He repeats as he places the files back on the table. “You ruined everything.” He continues in a low stern tone. “You were only supposed to make me faster. Stronger.   More agile. The perfect agent…” The Technicolor Ghost slowly walks around the table. “But because of you, the whole agency was destroyed along with my life!” He says while flailing his arms this way and that as he got closer to the Doctor.

The Colorful Killer started becoming so consumed in anger, hate and the want for revenge that he started to lose control of his power. Particles from his arms and face start lifting off and float around his body as they burst into vibrant colors. “Now look at me! I’m some kind of messed up rainbow-boy!” The angrier he got the more his body broke apart and the brighter the hues became. The room’s lights, cell phones, and any other electronic devises in the vicinity of the Human Light-Show start to flicker and short circuit as an uncontrollable side affect to Frank’s ability.

Ignoring the others pleas for him to calm down, the Neon Nightmare practically leaps at the Son of Sickness, in an attempt to punch him square in the face. If he missed he was quick to spin around with a backhanded slap. With each attack he condensed the particles around his hand into a single blade which went a few inches past the end his hands.