The Business Side of the Scope (IC)

Several years have passed since the man known as Kurrent has been around. To the world Jayden Salvador was dead, but in all actuality he has been alive and well living in a small rural village in Asia populated by 125 people. While there, he found comfort after all he has been through since he first took up arms against the evil in the world. Especially after what happened with the Liafador Empire in which he truly lost himself by unwillingly killing hundreds of people. It was what happened there that completely broke him.

In his new life Kurrent had continued to hone his skills and began to master new ones. His isolation gave him a chance to find love, purpose, and peace. He was truly happy but like most things though, it never lasts…

It was a late Friday afternoon and Kurrent who was known plainly as “Silver-hair” to the locals was off fishing for the evening meal. He liked being alone, it calmed him but he also did enjoy feasting with the villagers and was happy to do his part and listen to the stories that the people would all share. He had developed relationships with all of the members of the community from the youngest to the oldest and was impressed at the loyalty and compassion that each person displayed.

As the sun became to fall and his basket was now full Kurrent loaded his wagon with his plentiful haul and began to make this way back to the village. That is the last this he remembered before everything faded to black….

He woke up with a pounding headache and stars in his eyes. He raced towards the village as best as he could stumbling over the landscape that is typical of an Asian village. Finally reaching his destination a look of terror crept upon his face. All of his friends, his family, lay dead on the ground. Their faces were blistered from what he can only imagine was a chemical agent. Even being off the grid as long as he had been he knew that this was meant for him and that all of their deaths were on his hands.

A fire began to burn inside of his body, one that he hasn’t felt in a long while. He quickly began to look around for anything that would lead him to whoever wrote the check that he would ensure their ass would not be able to cash. Suddenly, he spotted a square platform and began to make his way to it. When he was about eight feet away it powered up and a hologram of a hooded figured displayed. In an eerie and low toned voice a continuous loop began to play of the figure saying the following: “All heroes must die…past, present, and future”.

After hearing the message several times it became etched into his brain. It a fit of rage, he picked up the platform ferociously slamming it back to the ground, stopping the terrorizing prophecy. His mind drowned with thoughts of vengeance, but he knew that this failed attempt to kill him would not be the last. He and many others were now a marked for death and whoever was responsible gave him the only motivation necessary needed to get back in the game. But first, he had 125 innocent bodies to put in the ground….

3 days later

In his travels he had heard in the news of other lesser knows heroes facing untimely deaths. The method of death was all different but each scene had the same message displayed. These attacks were calculated and whoever was behind them was smart.

The bright lights of the big city are something that Kurrent has never really liked and he gladly put it behind him but here he was once again in New York City. At the doors of the majestic building that stood before him he read the sign said, Greystoke Industries. He removed his hood revealing his silver haired scruff that slightly covered the H brand on his face. He gave a two finger salute to the camera and in less than 30 seconds three squads of armed guards surrounded him pointing their rifles with the intent to kill. Slowly he put his hands in the air and turned around to face his attempted killers and said aloud, “take me to William Greystoke……please”!

Whereas the ancient world worshiped at the altars of archaic deities, old gods of the elements, of love and of war, of the sky and of death, the modern world searched for insight not in prayer to the central figures of spiritual belief-systems, but in science. With mankind as the collective herald of a new era of logic and reason, the New Gods thus came. Divine manifestations of scientific breakthroughs, concepts, theories. They were gods of the atom. Of quantum mechanics. Of evolution. Of the Higgs Boson. Alexis, Thee Champion, was one such being. A New God. He represented a new era. Yet in many ways, he was not unlike his predecessors. What was a god? A god is a being who brings order and inspires hope for a peaceful, greater tomorrow during the world's blackest days.

The mortal race had always bled itself without mercy. Conflict stretched from every corner of the globe since the birth of human civilization. It was no different this time. Husband to the Spanish Prime Minister, Ziccarra Liafador, Thee Champion's duties as the entire Spanish military's undisputed general were, temporarily, rendered his second priority. News coverage of the mass homicides of innocents and heroic prospects soon spread with the fervency of a plague. It poisoned the mind of the public with fear and wrestled away their trust in their heroes. They had grown paranoid. Every city was fearful that it would be the nameless entity's next target. Alexis, the Herald of Hope knew of no man nor woman who held insight on this entity's objectives beyond the apparent desire to cleanse the globe of its heroes.

He searched and searched, soaring across the world's skies, intent on bringing this new foe to justice, to force him to answer for his sins. Yet he found nothing. Nothing but death and despair. The hands of the dying reached out to him in desperation as he hovered, an airborne, caped savior before the vibrant sun in the cloudless azure sky. It shredded his heart. Its bleeding remains descending into the pit of his stomach as his world went gray from sorrow for his fellow man. No soul deserved this suffering. But one soul would answer for these crimes. And his search resumed. The sky was torn asunder, yielding to the loud, crack of a shock-wave generated from the rapid thermal expansion of the air from his high velocity movement. He accelerated, blitzing through the sky as a succession of sonic booms trailed behind him.

The air was scorched and smelled of burnt ozone, superheated by the kinetic energy from his relativistic velocities. A cone, blue and bright, of searing plasma enveloped the New God's tall, herculean frame. His movement struck the particles in the air and left them energized, inciting surges of electrical arcs all about as a shimmering tail of plasma whipped behind him as if he were a comet. Soon he decelerated as he descended from the upper atmosphere. The sonic booms faded as did the plasma cone. Gone were the electrical arcs and the air surrounding him cooled. The Empire State Building greeted his eyes, denim blue pearls that complimented his chiseled, archangelic features.

His dark blue, semi-armored attire, embellished by red highlights adorned his towering, Greek god physique. His cape, a shade of dark red fluttered in the wind as did his silky, raven locks. Soon the soles of his boots, festooned by the same shade of red as his cape, touched the concrete pavement with gentility and the surrounding civilians gasped, recognizing the iconic 'S' or 'Savior' crest on his chest. Thee Champion was in New York. It had been a frequent target in recent times and its population made for a tantalizing target for any villain. He was certain that sooner or later, the figure who had first laid waste to a village in Asia would emerge, hungry for another target; New York.

@thee_champion:

There are in the whole universe two beings capable of tracking a Temporal Hound when it does not want to be seen. The first is a Time Siphon that is aware one is in the area and only if it spends a considerable amount of its focus in the attempt. The other is a god, particularly the New Gods, though most of them had no idea Temporal Hounds or Time Siphons existed at all. Because the Temporal Hound was disguised and its body designed to avoid almost every form of detection, even the scientific vision of a New God found it exceptionally difficult to spot. The creature was in New York on other business and had slipped into its stealth mode. The Great Beast existed in the time between seconds, completely invisible to all forms of sensory despite its enormous size. For the New God though it was possible to spot the area where reality was bending to make way for the Temporal Hound. Thus, Thee Champion did not see the creature itself but what appeared to be a wave in reality moving steadily through the city.

The Creature itself stepped carefully, its great weight distributed flawlessly so as not to disturb or break apart the pavement it stepped upon. Its sensory organs filtered out incoming signals and sent them to various parts of its freakishly advanced brain for processing, so it not only picked up and understood every electronic signal that came within range, it also was able to filter each one and pay attention to it individually even as it went about the rest of its business. So it was that it had heard stories of the massacre in Asia and the killings of minor heroes. It paused when its sensory organs picked up the approach of something moving fast, terribly fast. Thee Champion's vision could see the wave pause as the creature did and it swung its huge head around.

Probably not the killer, not enough stealth. I wonder if it is here to respond to the killings discussed on the radio? Interesting...

The Great Beast cocked its head as it considered its options. It may be able to see the effect my presence generates in the fabric of reality. Perhaps it will mistake me for the killer...that would be deeply unfortunate. A battle here would cause significant collateral damage to innocent lives and property. I could try and engage it in conversation but then the people here would see me. Curious. Well, best to go airborne then just in case.

He spread great wings and flew up into the air, just in case Thee Champion decided he was the attacker. The Temporal Hound had no intention of fighting, damaging its outer armor was virtually impossible which made for a unique perspective on life. Instead it just wanted to make sure no one below was hurt if it was attacked and say...sent flying through the air out of control.

@kurrent:

Greystoke Industries - 9:30PM

Business was good for the time being. William had done what so many others had only dreamed of - securing a military contract with the government of Spain. As several members of his staff rushed about bringing him documents to sign and logistics to check, the whereabouts of the serum lingered in the back of his mind.

"Be sure to assign enough security to the vibranium transports," he said to one of his advisers. "I know Spain has their own people, but I want ours in the field as well. We have too much riding on this to t-...." Just then, he paused as he watched the security personnel of the building rush about.

With his keen senses, he listened in to the sound waves that came in over the radios: "Unauthorized personnel... roughly six and a half feel tall... silver-colored hair... facial scar... 'Take me to William Greystoke...' Proceed with caution!"

Excusing himself from the session, Greystoke took the elevator down to the lobby. He stepped out just in time to watch his men taking Jayden Salvador into custody with their weapons trained on him. "That will be all," he said. "Trust me, if this man wanted to take you out, he would have done so by now.... I will take it from here."

After his men removed the cuffs, William walked up and extended his hand. "It's been too long, old friend..." he said, shaking Salvador's hand firmly. He chuckled a little as he felt feint electrodes being exchanged through contact. Stepping into the elevator, he said, "What brings you to my city, Jayden?"

As he listened to the hero formerly known as Kurrent, he was intrigued by the story. At the end of the ride, they stepped out and went into William's office. Stepping behind his desk, William placed his palm upon a reader and activated a console. With that, the room itself began to transform and change.

Walls turned to reveal racks of various firearms and bladed weapons. The floor opened up and weapons caches rose up out of the ground. Finally, a space in front of the fireplace opened up and the mantle of the Hunter rose up. "As you can see," William said. "I've been staying busy..." Beneath the suit, another compartment slid out and Greystoke picked up two specially-designed escrima sticks. "You still know how to use these, right?" he said in an almost joking manner, tossing across them across the room to Kurrent. "It sounds to me like you could use them once again..."

It took me years to realize what a burden it is to reach the top. The constant barrage of hatred from the enemies you've made along the way. It was almost not worth the adoration of your fans when you think about it really. That goes for any field of practice, but especially so in the world of heroes and villains. There are people in this world that kill for fun. Those dangerous minds and hands that control the will of others behind the big red velvet curtains. Those who proudly profess their sins to the world. Creatures with black hearts are opposite on the chess board to the spirit of the hero. I had known such a life, but never seemed to garner the fame that others did. It made me question my motives. But now, I appreciate that fact.

When Dr. Garcia pulled me into the office, I didn't notice them at first, the men in the back of the room waiting. I thought maybe, another transfer was being implemented and I would have to move hospitals again, but soon enough the timbre in his voice demonstrated otherwise. "There are two reasons I've called you into my office...This morning, I was notified that I would have to put you on standby for the duration of the month." My face grimaced like a teenager being told they couldn't attend the hottest party ever! Before I could blurt out my obvious opinion Dr. Garcia spoke again. "Last night, a village the southeast quadrant of Asia was attacked and burned to the ground. Immediate relief efforts have proven that it was not an accident, nor was it the result of rebellion in the region. Within the ruble there was a message. Something to the like of All heroes must die..past future..something something something." Dr. Garcia was not the most articulate of men, but the point was made. There was a new threat, and I because of my past had become target, and the hospital one by association.

However much I wanted, needed, the work; I could not stay. If were truly to call myself a hero, then had to leave until this whole thing blew over. But my mind went elsewhere. I thought of all of those people that I could help, that wouldn't get it. Infuriated, words weren't coming to me as easily as I'd hoped they would.

As I packed my belongings, the door remained open, and I saw the two men stand on opposite sides of the frame. "If you know who I am...Then you know I can take care of myself. You don't have to babysit me." Stuffing papers into the pocket of my satchel, I left, and the two men followed. I felt like some sort of criminal being lead down death row. Entering the sunlight, I just flew away to my apartment.

Never enough of a fool to pretend that I wasn't who I was, there was caution in ever step I took now. I felt foolish, looking over my shoulder, listening for a tick tick ticking sound...Maybe someone planned to bomb my apartment. The maniacs that burned the village left nothing standing, so it stood to reason they were the kind that cared nothing for the innocence of others, just of the demise of their target. "But who were they after? It had to be one of great importance for them to destroy an entire village" The thoughts ran through my head, until I was to exhausted to think about them anymore. Hoping to drown my sorrow in mindless TV, the first thing I saw were report of the village being massacred.

"This is why there has been a constant call for this superhero nonsense to end. Let the peoples government handle the lunatics that disturb the peace. Vigilantism only leads to more problems. We can't trust that now, this is a trend. In fact, we now can probably assume that there will be more attacks like this." The pundits argued back and forth until the program ended. "In the end, they've always caused more damage than good!"

I thought, "How could the moderator allow that to be the last effing word!!! GAAAAAHHH. But, with every fiber of my being wanting to disagree, he had a point. Was this all just some fools errand. Were we all just causing more evil to proliferate because of what we stood for. I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. If God didn't want us here, we wouldn't be here! Simple as that.

My last thought before falling asleep was "Its not okay to lie, even to yourself."

@temporal_hound:

Thee Champion could see everything. The power to use cosmic microwave background radiation leftover from the Big Bang instead of light radiation etc. enabled him to do so. He could see with perfect clarity. In the complete absence of light. Through everything. Even through lead. For one reason or the other however, he couldn't truly 'see' the Temporal Hound. He could however, see the ripples in space-time caused by the beast's presence. So in a sense of its own, the Red & Blue Icon could 'see' the beast. As the New Yorkers surrounded him and cried their tears of joy and hope in response to his ingress, Alexis, Thee Champion, smiled, charismatic and gentle in his affability as he met their expectant gazes, sunlight highlighting his features.

His skin, fair and unblemished, seemed to almost glow a golden hue from the power that vibrated beneath his flesh. "I appreciate the attention", he began, the majestic timbre of his commanding yet somehow archangelic voice hanging in the air alongside the civilians' many questions. "I'm sure you're all very nice people, but right now as we speak there's a mass murderer on the loose and its time that he or she answered for their sins". And while he remained attentive to those around him, the Herald of Hope's focus never truly wavered from that which caused the intangible ripples his eyes became fixated with. His initial instinct suggested he annihilate the beast where it stood. It could have, after all, been the killer. Though an attack of the magnitude he intended would have been unwise.

While it could possibly have brought him victory, what good would it be if those he swore to protect perished as a consequence of the damage his power could cause? The blood price was simply too high. And so, as he spotted the ripples in soaring into the sky, Thee Champion followed in immediate pursuit, offering an apologetic smile to those below him before returning his attention to the Temporal Hound. "Who are you?", he questioned as he approached, mentally and physically readied to either attack, or defend and counter should he in turn be attacked. The only reason for his present restraint? The probability that this beast was not the killer. While it made use of some form of stealth, it was absent of the methodical, cold-blooded approach of the nameless mass murderer.

He took the weapons that were offered to him and looked them over before sliding them into the holster of his belt where the sticks he used in the past used to dwell nodding slightly in gratitude. Suddenly, as he was about to speak a message came across the television that sent a chilling silence around the room.

This just in….the former site of the headquarters of the long forgotten group Veritas Inc. has decimated. There have been no reports of any hero activity from that location since the team was active but like many other attacks in the recent days the same message was displayed putting all of the world’s heroes on notice. Signing off this is Ma…..CLICK

It was evident that Greystoke was as angry and he was as he turned off the one of several screens on his wall that gave the bad news. “These are dark times my friend, it’s time to be proactive not reactive. Who can you think of that has the resources to handle something of this magnitude? ”.

Before he could answer Kurrent put his hand up in the air like he was requesting The Hunter not to speak. Call it a hunch but something was not right, he felt it in his bones. He looked at the display on the wall that showed the camera outside of the door to Williams’s office. The men that had Kurrent in custody were now in a stacked formation outside of the Hunters door with the squad leaders counting down with his fingers 5…4… In a whisper he asked even though he already knew the answer, “those men that brought me up here are not Wolf Pack, right?”

By the look on Hunter’s face it was evident that this was not his doing and that whoever was behind the murders close to crossing off two names from the list. In a swift motion Kurrent pulled his new sticks and took a fighting stance preparing for the upcoming melee… “too bad Hunter you are going to mess up your fancy suit”

MOVE MOVE MOVE

Very few knew of her true nature, very few new exactly what she was capable of. Those that occupied the borders of this reality knew her as a demon, but those from her host world knew her as the cocaine goddess. Flanked on both sides by the legendary terracotta warriors, The Y incarnate took position in the middle of the Chinatown (NYC) restaurant with her sword tapping the ground. Tv’s in the restaurant replayed the events transpiring in Asia, but she sat replaying the events of the Cataclysm, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was thwarted.

“I will have Fraga’s soul believe that” she barked before putting her nose to a white line. As the as the powder began to course through her veins, she could feel that orgasmic feeling; the one that cause her to torment gods, the feeling that allowed her to corrupt minds—the feeling of invincibility.

Her oriental russet eyes refocused on the restaurant, pushing her hands through her ridiculously long ebony tassels, the Flower of Carnage began to laugh hysterically; for what seemed like no apparent reason.

“You there!” She called out, pointing to an older man on the far side of the restaurant. He was not afforded the opportunity to answer, Y’s terracotta warriors immediately apprehended him; and dropped him at her knees.

He was about 5’4, wrinkled oriental face, looked to be in his early 60’s, his looks didn’t matter to the Green Dragon Empress; rather his soul. “Would you like to fck me?” She asked, with a jovial undertone. The innocuous chatter in the restaurant suggests no one cared to see why she summoned him.

Pleading for his life in Thai, he shook his head no. “Thai trash!” She said, lightly kicking him with the back end of her boot.

Invincible . “Take him to the room upstairs. I have a new toy I want to try out.” A serpent-like smirk slithered across her lips. Following closely behind her warriors, Y watched as they strapped the helpless old man to the bed.

The room was bizarre, naked mannequins with shaved heads, two way mirrors; and inverted pentagrams dressed the entire room; casting occult feels to this temple.

“Pray…Pray to your god. Let him hear your screams for mercy” She demanded in Thai with a hushed tone. The man said nothing; instead he tried to pry himself free from the straps. “Oh you don’t want to pray? How brave.” She said, turning towards a four-door chess on the far side of the bizarre room; she removed a rather large phallic device.

“Undress him.” She commanded, on her word her stone Terracotta warriors began to beat the man senseless while relieving him of his clothes. “If you will not fck me, than I will fck you” She said, picking up a slow sinister saunter towards her prey.

Her intentions were briefly halted by the sound of the old man’s wife pushed through the door looking for her husband. Y’s hand rose and pushed her corrosive spirit into the woman; the moment her foot crossed the threshold.

“Jump out the window…” Y commanded, the old woman picked up an errie saunter before strolling towards the window. “Y=Mx+b” she whispered, before launching herself from the three story window to her death below, much to the chagrin of her husband.

The moment she jumped, the man began to release a boisterous wail for his wife—he had no idea of the forces at play. “You think that hurts…you know no pain…” Y said, again stalking him again with her usual élan.

On the first floor of the restaurant, the confusion that came with the suicide of the elderly woman turned to fear when the wretched screams of the 60 year old man pierced the thick walls of two floors. As the spirit of Y-intercept descended upon him; he saw it—he saw Y-intercept’s origins.

Y nearly had an orgasm, having absorbed another soul, put her nearly at 100% soon she’d take the fight to Fraga and attain 100%.

The now nude Green Dragon Empress took her blade in hand, and gently sliced herself across the wrist, as her blood drip down her wrist. She stared intently at the pentagram, “Have I pleased you father?”

Sniffing the air, William looked over at Kurrent and said, "Those aren't my men at all..." Just then, a massive explosion rocked the room. The blast sent William flying back, slamming his back up against the heavily armored wall. As he picked himself up off the ground, his ears were still ringing from the blast. Through the dust and debris, several armed units advanced in formation with their weapons drawn.

"Contact!" one of them yelled, opening fire upon both William and Kurrent. Diving behind his desk, William took cover. As he did so, three bullets ripped into his back. At first, he sought to merely "sweat" them out and allow his healing factor to take over. However, it proved harder than normal. In addition, the bullets themselves stung like acid as they proceeded to burn through his flesh; and the smell was unforgettable... silver.

Breathing heavily, Greystoke looked over at Kurrent and said, "Buy... me... some... time..." With that, he activated another console near he desk and a secondary armored door slid down to enclose the office - trapping nearly twenty heavily armed assailants in the room with both Kurrent and the Hunter.

Although he hated to send his ally out alone, it was a matter of necessity. In his current state, William would be shredded by enemy fire and would be brought down. These assailants knew to use silver nitrate in their ammunition which meant one thing: they knew William's secret.

As Kurrent provided a distraction, William remained hidden behind his desk. Focusing all of his energy, he almost entered a meditative state. Slowly yet surely, the silver began to exit through his wounds - burning as it did so. William's eyes began to glow their feral yellow color and his teeth began to sharpen and become more canine in nature.

Suddenly, his wounds began to heal as his muscles began to move and grow. His bones began to shift and crack as he shed his clothing and threw it to the side. Black fur began to grow as his features became more and more canine - completing the transformation altogether.

Gathering his strength, the Greystoke Legend suddenly burst out of the wreckage and issued a deafening roar. In his true lycan form, William towered above his pitiful assailants. They had come prepared to take on a lycan, but NOT an alpha - let alone the true King of the Lycan Underworld.

In vain, the men tried to fire their weapons at him; but it was pointless. Like a storm, William proceeded to tear through the assailants in the most brutal manner. Since they were all locked in the confines of his office, there was no escape for them. Seizing them with his cruel claws, William ripped them apart. His fangs easily puncture the body armor which they were wearing as he feasted on them. At the end of it all, the office was completely covered in blood and William reverted back to his human state.

"Sorry about that...." he said, licking the blood off of his hands. "Thank you for your help back there... I could not have survived without it... It's house cleaning's problem now, right?" After cleaning himself up, William headed over to the mantle of the Hunter and began to put it on. "These men..." he said. "I have their scent now and I can track it back to where they came from... I'll have my techs examine their equipment and see if it comes up with any further leads."

As he continued to get arm himself, he looked over at Kurrent and said, "Just like old times, right? Ready to go hunting?"

Wilhelm - "Something like this was inevitable, wasn't it Ian? But the more pertinent question...is this Black Cell?"

The lack of an immediate mental response to his constant companions first question was not meant to be rude in any way, but an acknowledgement of just how futile debating the view was in his opinion. The so called heroes of this reality were in a constant state of disarray in the best of times and with what little structure that existed dealing with the physical and emotional fallout of what has become known as The Cataclysm, what better time was there to make a move? As for the second question, that was the one deserving of extended contemplation, silently in the hopes that the theory turned out to be incorrect. In the current state of things, they didn't have a chance in hell.

Ian - "Based upon the timing and atmosphere I would have to say yes, but the tactics involved, low-key direct strikes against prime targets combined with seemingly random attacks against unrelated civilians, makes be believe otherwise. They have not laid in wait for all these years to not unleash everything at their disposal should the time be considered right in their minds. Exposing themselves for anything less than a comprehensive and wholesale slaughter of each and every target of note would be such a departure of their M.O. to the point of almost eliminating them from the list of suspects."

Wilhelm - "What of White Cell? As a splinter from the whole, their tactics have deviated from the parent enough to denote such actions as within their goals."

Ian - "Possible, but they lack the raw armament of Black Cell, to attempt such a feat across multiple fronts would tax their capabilities at the very least. If they are involved it would not be in a leading role, perhaps as a co-conspirator, willing to devote a fraction of their resources to another to accomplish a common goal or eliminate a specific threat or threats. None of the atrocities carry a telltale sign or signature with which to ascertain a face to the action, one must assume they are being designed as generic as possible for this end, but sooner or later they will have to tip their hand. Common gunmen are not going to be capable of taking out men and women of this caliber, I surmise they are nothing more than the hunting dogs sent to rile the surprised birds into exposing themselves, leaving them vulnerable and in the open for the killshot."

Wilhelm - "Which leaves us to?"

Ian - "Follow the birds to the dogs and the dogs to the hunters, once all the pieces in play are known they can deal with them accordingly."

With that the veiled watcher bent spacetime to alter his position to one of many vantage points he would assume in the coming conflict, an eye in the sky overseeing all the intersecting paths. As to whether or not he would involve himself directly, that would all depend on how the players and pieces unfolded, there was a distinct difference between all-seeing and all-knowing.

@thee_champion:

Now free from the confines of the city the Temporal Hound shifted back into the normal flow of time, revealing itself just as Thee Champion asked his name. The great beast hovered in the air with immense motions of his wings, wings designed to hold up a create of terrible size. The strength of the Hound was obvious and its body covered in some sort of defensive plates the nature of which suggested a durability on par or above that of a god, new or otherwise. To most observes the beast might seem unintelligent, but to someone with the perception of Thee Champion it was quite obvious that the creature's huge head housed a great intelligence that burned behind its eyes like fire. When it at last chose to speak its voice seemed uncertain as to which part of the timeline it belonged in, seeming to come from the past, the preset and the future both distinctly and all at once.

"I am the Temporal Hound the hairless apes of this world have taken to calling Zhul." He replied. His tone suggested "hairless apes" was not meant as an insult but rather a distinct observation, a statement of understanding that suggested the Temporal Hound understood human evolution. It may not have even occurred to him that the phrase might be seen as an insult. "I am here on other business, but I have been constantly hearing of the murder of young heroes and the destruction of a village in the east. You are not that killer and as you can see, neither am I. My size alone would leave entirely different evidence behind." The great beast turned its head to gaze at the city now far below them. "The affairs of this world are not generally my concern, but I feel it would be somewhat remiss of me to allow such attacks to go entirely unpunished. I would be willing to provide aide in the form of my tracking skills and stealth. I could participate in combat but I am loath to do so, such engagements lay waste to vast areas."

The Temporal Hound patiently awaited a response. It did absolutely nothing to prepare a defense in case Thee Champion became aggressive, yet there was no air of arrogance nor foolishness...it simply did not care if Thee Champion attacked or not. The Creature had been attacked numerous times in countless ways, not one attack had ever penetrated its defensive hide. The Temporal Hound had one enemy and one enemy only. Right now that enemy was not present, so it did nothing to prepare a defense. This is a powerful being, surprisingly powerful in fact. I wonder what it will do to the killer once it finds it? Perhaps it will seek to place it in a prison...or perhaps seek to destroy the murderer entirely. I believe it capable of either action. It seems to care a great deal for the people below, I hope that does not prove to be an eventualdownfall.

@temporal_hound:

It was only through self-restraint, through mastery of oneself, that Thee Champion resisted his immediate instinct to slay the elephantine beast that had emerged before him. Actively preventing himself from making a snap judgement that instructed him to eradicate what could be an innocent creature, the New God instead, exercised composure as they both hovered in the cloudless, open sky. Folding both arms before his chest as his cape, an iconic shade of red, fluttered in the gelid wind's direction as it whipped across their environment of endless azure, Thee Champion coolly met the Temporal Hound's eyes and was attentive to its words. It could after all, prove a useful asset in locating the killer responsible for the numerous, recent mass murders.

"Tracking someone who doesn't leave any physical evidence behind or follows any modus operandi might be fruitless", he pointed out, the commanding yet affable notes of his majestic voice echoing all about with charismatic gravitas. "Your help's appreciated", Alexis clarified, his chiseled features softening for that one moment, "But I'd suggest not exhausting yourself on something that's impossible. He leaves no physical remnants of his presence anywhere he or she goes. Neither is this a killer who is formulaic in their methods. All we know is that he or she kills many at once. Its never one victim. Its always many who die. All we know is that we're dealing with a mass murder who insists that all heroes must die". So whereas the New God believed it to be too laborious an effort to track the killer. Luring them out however, was an entirely different alternative.

"This killer wants heroes. Wants us all to die. And its killing large numbers of people all at once to draw us out. The two most populous cities in the United States with the highest concentration of heroes and vigilantes are Gothic City, and this city, New York", the Red & Blue Icon paused, his gaze shifting, succinctly, from Zhul, to the metropolis below them. "I know the killer won't target Gothic though. Not right now at least. Gothic recently suffered from a battle between the Shogun, her allies, and those who fought to protect the city or criminals who wanted no part of her in their city. It led to a pandemonium that's still taking place there. Riots, murders, everything. Gothic's out of control and the police and military are facing challenges trying to control the situation. The killer won't attack Gothic because nobody will notice a mass murder there. Not with the pandemonium happening".

"And one thing we can say we know is that the killer wants attention from the heroes. That's not going to happen in Gothic. The pandemonium has everyone's attention. Which brings New York into the picture. The next best thing. And historically, its a popular destination for these kinds of attacks. The killer'll come. We just have to be ready".

@thee_champion:

The Great Beast cocked its head and listened intently to what Thee Champion had to say. It visibly scoffed at the idea of something that could not be tracked. None the less, this was not his world or his hunt so if they preferred a different strategy he would accept it and help in whatever way he could.

"If you do not wish to track your opponent then I offer instead to help destroy it when you lure it out." He said. "There are very few beings that can withstand the full force of my attacks, you will find my strength and durability useful in a fight." The creature considered their options for a moment before it pressed with a question of its own. "Do you believe the attacker is using some form of ranged communication? I may be able to filter it out of the background noise."

So many people assumed the Temporal Hound to be stupid or simple and that the great features of its head were horns and bony constructs. The truth was they were highly adapted sensory organs designed to pick up a huge array of signals, both biological and artificial. Each unique signal was constantly filtered out and fed into a separate part of its brain where it was identified and process, its information stored for later use or eventual discarding. With its highly developed brain the Creature of the Conflux was capable of processing information like a quantum computer. It would be a simple matter for it to filter out the millions of signals flowing through and over New York City and discern which signal was what. It could even decode the information of an encrypted signal if given enough time.

@temporal_hound:

Hovering in the frigid air of the open sky, a cocked eyebrow found its way to the New God's features, in wordless response to Zhul's misunderstanding of his words regarding tracking the killer. "You must have misunderstood me", Thee Champion pointed out simply, his words measured and calm. The reality wasn't that he didn't feel they should track the killer, but that given the circumstances, tracking the culprit was too fruitless a task. With the numerous forms of modus operandi employed by the killer and the absence of physical evidence, the culprit was essentially a specter. One could not track a killer that for all intents and purposes, did not exist. Directing his attention to the Hound's following words regarding its own combat prowess, the New God issued an acknowledging nod.

"Good". Then the beast posed an inquiry. "Hmm, its possible", Alexis answered, his visage becoming one of mild pensiveness. "Following the attack on the Asian village, a platform was found. It projected a hologram with a prerecorded message from the killer. That, given the method of killing used implies that we're dealing with someone well-versed in the sciences. And to have the means to deploy chemical agents and generate holograms, our killer is not only intelligent, but is in possession of some serious funds. We're potentially dealing with someone wealthy. So some form of high-tech communication may not be beyond our killer". Pausing for a moment, Alexis resumed, "If you can, filter out from the background noise, frequencies that modern technology available in the market cannot use".

It was unlikely they would find any sort of lead with that, the killer could be using any of various means of communication. But perhaps? "Do that while I look into some other things in the city". With that, Thee Champion took off, descending as he soared across the streets of New York. His eyes and ears searching for anything and everything that may lead him to the killer.

The Amalfi Coast, Italy

Vincenzo Aurelio. The man who kills. He didn't consider it to be a profession, or even an occupation. He took little pride in doing his family's duty. As instructed, he had questioned his own choices many times, debating whether or not it was noble to take a life in order to save one. He was no sadist, but it rarely crossed his mind that killing another living being was wrong, if they were truly immoral. Men who do such terrible things to others are not men, but beasts. Everyone dies eventually, and it is right that they go before the innocent. And yet, the innocent, it seemed, had been dying.

Mass murders, taking place everywhere on Earth. Innocent lives destroyed, with no discernable formula to pinpoint the location of the next attack. Cold, calculated strikes on highly inhabited zones. Asia had been struck already, and it seemed as though every news network was covering the tragedy. Targeting heroes, the television had said, or something along those lines. Were that the case, Vincenzo had little to fear; but, he nonetheless kept a hand on the handle of his retractable blade, hidden beneath his jacket.

He was sitting outside a small café, overlooking beautiful Sorrento. A menu rested upon the table, but he was in no mood to eat. Sunglasses covered his dark, probing eyes, glaring intently at the television. For the longest time it seemed as though it was reporting on nothing but the intermittent disasters that were ravaging the world. But now...the camera was on the God of the Sky. That was how people liked to view him, it seemed. The name fit. But Vincenzo knew better than any man that there are no true gods. The footage of Thee "Champion" wasn't live, but it told him what he needed to know. The future king of the world was floating above New York, and it seemed as though he would be there for a while.

Vincenzo had considered that he may be arrogant in assuming that the caped marvel that now hovered over millions of lives would eventually decide to rule over them all. But if one thing was for sure, it was that absolute power corrupted absolutely. If there were any being on Earth that qualified as having absolute power, it was likely to be the General of the Spanish Army. Vici couldn't afford to give him the benefit of the doubt; nobody could. Eventually, like so many well-intentioned men before him, he would turn on the rest of the world, coddling them, feeding them, and preventing them from growing on their own. Even benevolent rule would be incredibly detrimental to society. Vici had no desire to live like an ant, living in a culture where everything was provided for him, where progress meant nothing. Humanity must be allowed to fail for it to move forward. We fall because we learn to pick ourselves up again. And, in his eyes, the one called Thee Champion would eventually stand in the way of justice, whether he intended to or not.

And thus, it was then that Vincenzo Aurelio made his decision. He sipped the last of his espresso, left his tip at the table, and rose, walking out of the small outdoor dining area. He walked through small, cramped streets and into large plazas, all adorned with beautiful Italian architecture. With purpose he strode across the cobblestone roads, growing more determined with each step. He reached one of his storehouses, each disguised perfectly as a private building with no clear point of entry.

He removed his sunglasses and jacket, revealing a white t-shirt that stretched against his toned physique. Opening one of the several locked closets, he removed his cloak, knives, and mask. It whirred with activity as he pressed one of the switches on the side, lenses extending and receding with a rhythmic beauty that only a fine work of art could have. Da Vinci's spyglass, it had been called. Lost blueprints had prevented it from ever being replicated and put on display for a museum, but with the advent of modern technology, Vici had made this archaic-looking mask a viable alternative to any other combat-designed facewear.

Turning it over, he placed it upon his face. He was not Vincenzo Aurelio. He was Vici Aurelius, and he would do what was right.

@thee_champion

@vici_aurelius:

There was a pause. Time froze and the particles in the air seemed to have been suspended in wait. In anticipation. Behavior that too characterized the now graying sky. Clouds gathered, challenging and defeating the sun for dominion of sky. As if the elements of nature fancied themselves the omnipresent spectators of what was soon to be. Thee Champion hovered. Arms that could move planets folded before the iconic 'S' crest festooning his chest. Denim blue eyes, capable of projecting the superheated plasma that comprised the stars in the night sky, searched all about him, gazing upon the populous city as the clouds now gazed upon him. He was searching for something, a clue. Anything that could lead him to the mass murderer who had seized the public by the throat with fear.

In his distraction. In his altruistic concern for the people he had sworn many times to protect, the New God was caught off guard. The unthinkable had happened. The culprit was calculating. A viper who had planned and assessed the situation. He had selected the time. The circumstance. And the execution was without flaw. It was the perfect plan to ensnare Thee Champion into a trap. Observe him. Wait for a moment when his kind heart and paternalistic instinct to shield the innocent from harm was most roused, and exploit it. And exploit it his adversary did. It was fast. In what felt like a unit of time so insignificant that it could not be measured, the New God was made to vanish in the company of his new foe. The particles in the air resumed, and the clouds then commenced their downpour of the city.

Abruptly, the two of them reappeared, their setting? The heart of Central Park. It was simply put, empty. Everyone had fled into the comfort of their homes and only the workaholics zipped about the city. The others were held by fear. Fear that their city would be the killer's next target. Some called in sick, citing whichever illness first popped into their minds so as to avoid working that day. Others were more frank, open about their desire for self-preservation. There were no spectators for what was soon to be a bout, which implied that no person would be harmed. Except, Thee Champion's opponent. The moment their forms materialized, the New God exercised his hyper-herculean strength and shook his foe free from his person, generating far greater force than that posed by the telekinetic grip used against him. There was one strange detail however, as Alexis, Thee Champion rested his cool, earnest gaze on his opponent.

He exhibited no sign of pain. His foe's plan was perfect. He had timed it correctly. The execution was brilliant. Then why was the unbearable agony he sought to subject the New God to, absent? It wasn't because Alexis' divinity allowed him to transcend to an existence beyond pain. It was because like his opponent, Thee Champion possessed a unique field of his own as well. In his case however, it was a field of continually replenished quantum particles that enveloped his towering, Greek god-like frame. When some object/energy or field for that matter interacts with it, the field of particles cannot be properly annulled in most cases. Only significant shocks to the field, and truly significant they would have to be, could penetrate it because Alexis duplicates these quantum particles from within his own body to generate the field itself. Essentially, his field acted as a barrier to his opponent's.

It prevented his opponent's field from penetrating it and reaching what was the New God equivalent of a human nervous system to accomplish what it intended. If not for the perpetual field of particles around his person, there rested no doubt that Thee Champion would have fallen victim to excruciating pain his foe could create. Instead, Alexis rested his gaze on his opponent. In his mind, the masked man who now stood before him could very well be the killer he sought. After all, who would attempt such an ambush following the conversation, recently shared with Zhul, about apprehending the killer? And so, the New God responded, and quickly. There was no foreshadowing, no charging of his attack. It simply happened.

Particles were ionized, charged and made into high-energy particles that were then electromagnetically propelled to near-superluminal velocities as a large beam, blue and glowing with power, darted from his eyes and sought to swallow his foe whole. The beam scorched the air with its heat, leaving behind the scent of burnt ozone as it evaporated much of the rain that drenched their surrounding area. Plants and trees withered from the heat, tightening and drying before turning to ash. The beam itself didn't have to necessarily reach its target. It struck the particles in the air with so much kinetic energy that the searing heat it generated enveloped most of their environment and threatened to scorch most of what was within immediate range of the New God. It caused such a rapid thermal expansion in the air that a shock-wave... thunder, roared all about them, intent on rupturing his foe's eardrums, shredding his flesh and battering his internal organs with its vicious vibrations. If the beam struck, it struck. If it missed? Alexis would direct it into the sky. In the distance, thunder, but this one from the sky, seized the city as lightning lit the sky as the rain grew heavier. When one chooses to do battle with a god, old or new, certainly they never forgot that before them did indeed stand, a god.

@thee_champion:

As expected, it had taken approximately one second for Vici's foe to shake him off, hurling him from his form with extraordinary strength. Mighty palms grasped at Vincenzo, tearing him and his telekinetic grip off of the New God. He had been flung across the ground, bouncing upon the grass and cobbled walkways. A rib pierced his right lung, and his leg had been bent into an unusual position. His eye twitched as it straightened, the latent evolutionary anomaly having been awakened by the pits Vici and every member of his family had entered on their sixteenth birthdays. So. It doesn't feel after all. Vici had managed to place his hands upon the New God's temples, if only for an instant. He had felt nothing within. That, or his field had somehow been disrupted.

As his bones snapped back into place, he launched himself to his feet, placing his palms behind his head and pushing off the ground. His internal injuries had been assessed and dealt with by his advanced biology. It was curious that the being before him did not experience what humans regard as sensation. Some sort of subliminal countermeasure? They said he had limitless power. Perhaps instantaneous evolutionary response was the source of said impenetrability? Breathing deep, Vici narrowed his eyes. The pain he had undergone moments before amplified every aspect of his biology, activating the hyper-adrenaline that coursed through his veins in addition to the regular kind that was produced within his adrenal glands. His senses amplified, his balance improved beyond measure, and his reaction times tripled.

It was a good thing that they did.

Seconds after, a blue beam of pure energy shot across the field, illuminating the sky with its power and practically blinding Vici. It was upon pure instinct that he blinked away, mere moments before the ionic particles would have absolutely destroyed his form. Even without the actual beam colliding with him, he had still felt its effects. His cloak smoldered despite the exotic treatments it had undergone, and his metal mask burned against his face. Every nerve was alight with sheer agony, but this was soon negated by his healing factor, which had shifted into overdrive following the release of the hyper-adrenaline hormones. The final result was a vicious cycle that empowered Vici further; he feels pain, the pain augments his healing factor, he heals the injury, but retains the strength granted to him by his nociceptive powers. The only question was, how many times could his body endure this cycle before failing him?

He had teleported beneath a bridge, approximately 900 meters from where the beam had nearly torn him apart. He crouched beneath, ready to spring into a teleportational dodge should the situation call for it. He felt his organs working overtime, providing him with the bare necessities needed to even contend with a foe like Thee Champion. Soon they would give out, but until then, he would be functioning at full capacity. He still had a card or two up his sleeve.

"If you don't feel pain, then you don't know what it means to be human," whispered the Austere Assassin. "You have no business here. Coddling us. Keeping us 'safe'. With you around, nobody will ever truly have free will. They will be free to make the choices you see fit for them to make. No man with power such as yours should interfere with our lives, for better or for worse." He knew that his foe could hear him, as he would undoubtedly be listening for any sign of him. Any attempt at stealth would be an absolutely futile gesture. Vici's two greatest skills would be useless against this opponent, but he wasn't about to surrender any time soon. To do so, after all, would be to relinquish humanity's freedom, in Vici's mind.

"You likely think me foolish. You likely think me arrogant. You think me presumptuous. You are correct in assuming the first two," coughed the young Aurelius, "but not the third. I know how it starts. Even the best-intentioned men, when given absolute control, will lose themselves. I made a promise, long ago, when I turned sixteen. A promise to the free people of the world, to keep them safe from those like you. A benevolent tyrant is still a tyrant. An all-powerful god does not have the right to rule simply because he can. Leave our society alone," he coughed, as his lungs continued to repair themselves, "or I swear, I will find a way to kill you."

He teleported to the top of the bridge, standing in full view of the New God, arms at his sides. His hands burned with power, imbued with energy generate by his deviant glands. Augmented by the trauma he had just undergone, he felt his potential increase. He could teleport at will, and with no ill effects, so long as he did so in a short distance rather than a lengthy one. His coup de grâce had not yet been used. But he would wait. Not many men, after all, get a chance to talk to God...or at least, someone trying to be him. He stood still, sizzling mask staring up at Thee Champion. Waiting to see who would strike first. It was the tensest stand-off in the history of Central Park. If the New God made a move, Vici had something with which to retaliate. Guile would be his greatest ally, cunning to undermine pure power...but first his foe's focus would need to be disrupted. Vici's hands were at his sides, but he was still anticipating his next maneuver. It all depended on what choice the so-called Herald of Hope would make next.

@vici_aurelius:

Thee Champion listened. His auditory perception was powerful. Sharp. Dexterous. It listened and he heard. His opponent's words hung in the air, alongside the loud, shrieking cry of thunder. Lightning tore the darkened skies asunder as the rain continued to wash over the city. All about the city, the air was cool and smelled of rain. Around the New God however, it was hot. The air had been scorched and the rain that fell was turned to steam by the searing element that now permeated all about. He listened. And his eyes rolled. Tired. He had heard this speech before. Seen this contrived attempt by those who searched, desperately, to find evil in him. Evil that did not exist. Alexis never ruled. He never would. If the world was to be his, he would have claimed it by now.

Since his birth or rather.. manifestation, the New God had never claimed to be He who much of humanity worshiped as their Almighty. While his divinity was authentic, he had never spoken of his godhood or the supposed right it gave him to rule over man, as his adversary seemed to believe. It was the world that defined his godhood. After all, what was a god? A being who is worshiped for his great deeds? Perhaps. After all, it was the public who worshiped Thee Champion for his deeds, his great deeds of good. So perhaps, in a sense, every hero who strives to make the world a greater tomorrow for those who are to weak to fight for it, are gods. Alexis certainly believed so. That the heroes of today are not unlike the gods of old that the ancient people turned to in times of turmoil.

He remained quiet. And made no attempt at convincing his foe to refrain from battle. No attempt at breaking down, point for point, how what his opponent felt he 'knew' was simply what he chose to 'believe'. And that the world did not need his 'belief' to grow and evolve. Silence seized the atmosphere and even the lightning and thunder paused, as if bending to the will of the Herald of Hope. The downpour grew quiet and Thee Champion met his adversary's gaze with the same measured cool as last time. Perhaps the man who challenged him this day was envious. Overcome by it as he could not believe that before him hovered a god who was not corrupted. A god unlike any found in the mythologies of the ancient world. A god who was not selfish. Who held no desire to rule. A god of mercy. One who despite his obvious differences, recognized the humanity in himself. A god who was new.

Thee Champion did however, have words with his opponent. His intention was not to persuade him from violence. He was simply correcting him. On what humanity was. "The ability to feel pain isn't what defines humanity", he began, his voice speaking with the commanding gravitas of a god but the majestic flair and affability of an angel. "Accepting oneself as a member of the society. Having a noble and just view of the world. A peaceful ideology. The inner strength to give people second chances even if they don't deserve it. Knowing that one has power that can be abused but not abusing it. That is humanity". For a moment, he paused. "This is your second chance", he made clear. "But if you insist on trying to find a way to kill me", again he paused, not moving from his position in the air. "Good luck".

@thee_champion:

Vici inclined his head, concealed behind the hood and mask. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned Thee Champion, darting back and forth precisely, taking in every possible detail. He telekinetically felt his blade's handle, running invisible fingers over it in the back of his belt. Smooth, sharp, and deadly to any man. But this thing floating in the sky before him was no man, no matter how much he seemed to assert that he was.

It, Vici reminded himself, it. This thing is no man. It merely thinks it is. It thinks it knows what's best for us.

Vici began pacing, slowly, from side to side, his lensed eyes never leaving the New God's floating form. Rain trickled down the side of his hood, droplets covering the mask. The lenses had been treated; they would remain clear. The cold precipitation cooled Vici's burning cloak, causing steam to rise from the shoulders and back. His breathing was controlled, every lungful of air predetermined. It aided in the completion of the cycle, maintaining Vici's newly heightened senses and endurance. He exhaled, watching his breath sift out of the mask's filter. His internal organs now fully healed, he silently marveled at his own ability to escape death, to cheat it in a way that no other living thing could. His eyebrow raised as he realized that his internal biology was also very much unlike that of a human being.

Ha...maybe he and I aren't so different. Ironic, that I criticize him for his inhumanity, and yet allow myself to take part in the affairs of the everyday citizen. Still...I can't break planets.

"Do you have a name?" he inquired, stopping his slow walk from left to right. "A true name. Not an alias, or a title. A human name," he asked. "Something a friend would call you. If you have any, that is. I'm sick of calling you 'The Next God' or 'Our Champion'. I find it to be rather demeaning. And it's no inferiority complex or anything like that," said Vici with a genuine smile. He was wearing the mask, but he had no doubt that his adversary was looking straight through it.

@vici_aurelius:

With every passing second, the New God's mind began to, tighter and tighter, wrap itself around the sentiments that fueled his foe's fervent desire to battle him. Initially he recognized envy in him, now? He saw an additional psychological element. Hatred. In Thee Champion's eyes, his adversary did not detest him for his divinity, but for the feeling that his apparent godhood forced him to experience. There he would fly, leaving blurs of red and blue across the open sky, performing all manner of selfless, altruistic feats too fantastical for the mortal man to comprehend. Doing what the ordinary man could not. Perhaps, it made his foe feel inadequate. That he was a lesser being. Deep within his beating heart or whatever the equivalent of a god's heart was, Alexis sincerely hoped not.

Otherwise his foe as it seemed, would reveal himself as truly, a sad individual. Soon however, his mind wondered about the other alternatives. Perhaps it was fear that inspired his enemy to discriminate him. Historically, man has always detested those who were different from him. Different religion. Different philosophy. Different race. Different sexual orientation. The list was endless. It was then and there that the New God prayed that he who stood before him was not basing the entire confrontation on the fact that he was different from the rest of the globe. Otherwise, Thee Champion would be forced to recognize that he was, essentially, tasked with bringing to justice a man who was no different from a bigot, from a racist. Or perhaps, the man was simply a hypocrite. Different but lacking power of the same magnitude as the Herald of Hope. But still alike in that they were different.

And so Thee Champion hovered in silence. His eyes, denim blue pearls, never wavering from the masked vigilante. His mind, living and thinking in nanoseconds as the heat in the air dulled and the rain returned in force once more, drenching the now scorched patch of Central Park. Then, his foe posed an inquiry. Asking for a name. A real name. His smile seemed sincere. Alexis peered through his mask and saw what could have been perceived as either genuine amiability, or an attempt at deception. His guard didn't drop. He was not naive. He was kind. Optimistic. Gentle. Merciful. Not naive. "My name is Alexis", he answered, half-certain that now his opponent would roar a cliched speech on how he would slay him, the New God, or strip him of his name, or claim that he held no right to a human name or some sort of pseudo-intellectual, philosophically simplistic nonsense regarding his name or his place in the world.

He was certain. Half-certain. Aware however, that he could be wrong.

@thee_champion:

"Alexis," he repeated to himself. "My name is Vincenzo," he continued. So the New God had a name after all."Alexis...I must ask you a question. Have you ever felt helpless? Unable to control your own future? Powerless?" Vici's eyebrow's raised in query, his voice rasping out from behind his facemask. "You must understand that this is how many feel when confronting the reality of your existence. Your own presence on our world. People live in fear of your power. I will admit that there are days when I consider the fact that you might one day lose your mind, and decide to throw Italia into space."

He chuckled, then turned. Staring Thee Champion in the eyes, he removed his mask with his right hand, revealing his stoic face underneath. The last burn healed up as he continued.

"I cannot deny an innocent man the right to live, Alexis. Doing so would be decidedly immoral. Nor can I attempt to deny an innocent man the right to live...that, too, would be decidedly immoral."

He frowned. Damn it. I told myself I'd go through with this.

"I came here to kill you, today, Alexis. I failed. I told myself that I would be doing the right thing. I managed to convince myself that eventually, you would turn against humanity. I had decided that a pre-emptive strike would be the only course of action. Perhaps I thought wrong."

There was no hatred in his voice, nor any sorrow. Merely...disappointment. Disappointment in himself, for finishing what he'd come here to do.

"Only a fool would claim that you haven't fought in the name of righteousness, Alexis. I have no doubt that you believe you are doing the right thing. And yet, I feel that your actions now will damage humanity in the future. We'll grow soft. Complacent. You may treat us as your equals, but in reality we'll be the equivalent of a pet. Like ants kept in an ant farm, you'll keep us safe, well-fed, and content. But that's no way I want to live. That's no way I want to see humanity live."

Vici lowered his hood, letting the rain run down his scowling face. His cold brown eyes stared into the night.

"I had thought that in attacking you today, I could prevent possible transgressions in the future. And yet, I am forced to admit that you have willfully done no wrong. I now realize I cannot condemn you for trying your best to help us. You've done more for our people than I could ever hope to. But...if you one day turn on us...if you one day decide that you are fit to dictate our every action...I will be the last to surrender. I will fight you until I can fight no more. Do you understand?"

I should kill him. I should try. To do anything else would be to betray humanity. To throw away our future. To leave it in his hands.

Perhaps there never was a choice.

@vici_aurelius:

The layer of clouds above, once thick and as black as night, began to yield. Yield to the nurturing but commanding power of the sun above. The downpour slowed and grew tamer. But had yet to stop. It was after all, a process. A process not unlike the one that Vincenzo underwent to understand that Alexis posed no present threat to the world they both loved. Quietly, the New God's arms unfolded and he descended. With a thud, the soles of his boots touched the ground. "I feel helpless every day", he began, the expression held by his perfectly proportioned features, one of earnestness. "A lot is made of what I can do. But there is a lot that I can't do. Every day I do what I can to fight for the weak. To save victims from their tormentors".

"And every day, I must live with the reality that no matter how hard I try, or how many people I help or protect. There is still someone on the other side of the world screaming in pain. Crying for help. Making me realize that I can't be everywhere at once", the New God paused, the notes of his voice were measured and calm. "People want to know if I've ever felt helpless. Try wanting to help as many as people as you can yet being able to hear every scream across the world reminding you that you can't be everywhere at once", he explained. "I've seen one of my daughters kill herself because I couldn't protect her from the cruelty of the world that ultimately broke her. I didn't get to hold my other daughter when she was a baby because she had been kidnapped by rogue quantum souls who believe those of us who are physical, biological beings are lesser".

"One of my relatives was beaten to within an inch of her life by my wife's ex-husband. And my youngest daughter, a baby, was almost killed by that very same man". For a moment, Thee Champion... no, Alexis allowed silence to hang in the air as he met Vincenzo's austere gaze, the rain growing thinner, slower, sunlight creeping through the fading clouds. "Being unable to control my own future? I think being unable to control your own family's future to be worse. Not knowing if your children will live or die tomorrow? No parent wants to feel that. Because the moment you have sons and daughters, you realize that your heart beats for all of them to breathe. And now I've lost one of them. And I'm reminded every day. That I was powerless to stop one of my children from taking her own life". Soon, the rain ceased, the clouds scattered, and the sun returned in full force, doing away with the scent of rain that lingered in the air.

"I've lived for a long time, Vincenzo. And I've seen every incarnation of evil that exists in this world. If I was to take over, to turn on humanity and rule with an iron fist to create a forced, bleak utopia, I would have done so a long time ago. But I haven't. Because I'm not here to force the world to accept me as its savior. I've never even claimed to be so. I'm here to do what I've always done and always will do. Inspire people to have the same hope in humanity that I do. To help them see that the best of mankind has yet to come". Though Vincenzo's concerns that he may one day turn against humanity were not uncommon, Alexis offered words of comfort. "If I ever do turn on humanity, you won't have to kill me. My family will stop me". Ziccarra, Maya, Leonel, Selene, Zeon, Isis, and perhaps even Tassiana, they would all step forward and protect the world. Even from Thee Champion, if it ever came to it.

@thee_champion:

Slowly, Vincenzo nodded. The rain had stopped, as if on cue. His logic was sound. And it seemed that the New God certainly was, to an extent, human.

"You mentioned family. I respect nothing more than a man who stands up for his kin. An apology is in order, Alexis. My uncle, Dante, taught me a great deal about humility, and accepting responsibility for your actions. I am sorry for trying to...end your life. Not that I actually posed much threat, I'm sure."

Vici smiled wearily. Thee Champion had descended, landing before the Austere Assassin, standing in front of him not as a god, but a man. A man with a family.

"You're more human than I gave you credit for, Alexis. I suppose you're here to deal with the killings. New York, after all, would be the most logical target. I can assure you that for those, I was not responsible. If you're listening to my heartbeat, you'll know I'm telling the truth." Vici walked a little closer to the New God. The entire Aurelius family was superhuman; they were all in possession of gifts that made them something more than men and women, but Alexis truly exemplified what it meant to be power.

I suppose we are lucky, then, that he exercises such restraint.

"I would be willing to aid you in this little manhunt. I myself find senseless murder to be deplorable."

What a turn of events. I come here to kill him, and end up respecting the man. Hm. What would Marte say?

@vici_aurelius: @temporal_hound:

With a subtle, but respectful inclination of the head, Thee Champion, ever the altruist, ever the forgiver, matched Vincenzo's smile with his own. It was genuine with affability, with an amicable, charismatic radiance that paid homage to that now exhibited by the sun as it cleared the sky of dark clouds and returned to it its azure hue. "Give yourself more credit than that. You were a man on a mission you felt was righteous and just. Those are often the most dangerous". Alexis paused, and for a moment, offered a formal truce, extending his hand forward for what he intended to be a courteous but firm handshake before retreating his hand. With a nod, Alexis confirmed his former foe's hunch.

"I'm here to see to the end of the mass murders, yes. But so far, its been like I'm chasing after a ghost". It said much about the killer's ability to maintain anonymity that even someone with the extraordinary, utterly fantastical sensory perception of Thee Champion could not locate him or her. "And I know you aren't the killer. The things our culprit has done and intends to do again, those aren't things that men do. What we've seen is the stuff of monsters. This killer has much of the world held by the throat in fear. And all we know is that he, or she, believes that all heroes must die". It was a difficult reality to accept. That men and women that forsaken by their humanity existed. But they did. These were the Quintus Knightfalls and Brahma Bulls of the world.

"Your help is more than welcome. You can teleport, that should be very useful in the manhunt. I have an ally, his name is Zhul. He's offered to help find the killer as well. He's somewhere in the city doing what he can to find the culprit. I suggest we all split up to cover more ground and search for anything suspicious that may point to the killer already being here".

@thee_champion: @vici_aurelius

The Temporal Hound had observed their battle while it was filtering out background information. There were a number of unusual signals in the area but it would take time to decode them and determine if they were private signals being used by mundane institutions or signals being used by a murderer. With the fight over and the two discussing teaming up the Hound returned to the area they were in and made itself visible once more. He did not move to interrupt the conversation just yet while they spoke of teleportation and splitting up.

The Great Beast had hunted the mightiest of prey for centuries beyond reason, it knew every method of tracking yet devised and well understood the concept of splitting up a group to cover wider ground. It also had a theory. They may well go after individual heroes rather than groups, so far that has been the case. If we continue as a group we will possibly avoid what we are seeking, but if we split up there is a greater opportunity that one of us will be attacked and can call in the others. The other two are not as durable but seem strong enough to survive if necessary.

"Pardon me." The Hound interjected after their latest talking points. "I agree with your strategic suggestion. It seems more likely to me that he will attack individual heroes than a group. If you have electronic means of communicating I can focus on the signal and listen for a call for reinforcements. I posit also the enemy is unlikely to choose me as a target, the odds of it causing any damage are limited and most of the people living on this world would sooner see me as a villain or monster than hero. I suspect our enemy more likely to go after one of you two as a greater symbol of their ability to kill heroes. This is especially true if they are interested in causing fear."

There was danger above. The Raptor could smell gunpowder, hear the sounds of marching feet above his dwelling in the sewer. The footsteps were heavy, and clanged with metal on the rare occasion they stepped over the circular openings which sealed closed The Raptor's underground passageways. There were myths about Alligators living in sewers in this area, and they were partially true. No typical reptile lived there, however. The Raptor was inexplicably man-like, possessing greater intellect than most humans, and retaining a humanoid form. He was a very powerful individual, being notorious among law enforcement and conspiracy theorists alike. The Raptor had considered moving to the wetlands to avoid persecution, but was tied to the city by money. He was a mercenary, a hired gun. The thrill of the hunt was diminished when the prey was incapable of fighting back.

Having become lost in his thoughts, The Raptor peered out through a storm drain. There was only a small group of soldiers, they would not be hard to dispatch. If the called backup, they could truly be a problem, but The Raptor was eager to kill. He extended his tongue, wrapping it around a soldier's foot, and pulled him to the ground. The soldier wore a combination of black, red, and silver. It seemed to match with the uniforms of the other soldiers. It was form-fitting, and contained flexible metal elements. Seemed expensive. Like opening a can to reach the food within, this kill would be. As the soldier began to yell and draw his gun, The Raptor quickly retracted his tongue, pulling the soldier into the storm drain, and causing him to drop his weapon in panic. The others seemed confused, as it had happened so fast that they had not had time to compute what they had seen. The Raptor held his hand over the soldier's mouth, his foot on his chest. He put more of his massive weight on the man every time he tried to move. One of the soldiers above finally spoke, audibly priming his weapon. The others followed suit. "Looks like we've got ourselves a hero!"

From outside, the soldiers simply stared into the storm drain, as if they expected him to grab another one of them. Instead they were met with a low snarl, followed by the pained screams of their comrade. His cries were ended with the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones, his bodily fluids audibly flowing into the water below. The Raptor could smell their fear. He threw the severed head of the soldier, mask still intact, out of the storm drain, causing one soldier to panic and shoot it. "Holy sh*t..." The soldier began, removing his mask and stepping aside to vomit. "C'mon. Let's flush this prick out." The soldier, seemingly the leader, had stepped before his men, turning his back to the storm drain and holding a grenade up for the rest to see, as to signal them to do the same. This was met with yet another angry snarl from below. "Heh, look, he's angry!" Mere moments after the soldier in the back made the statement, the storm drain, shattered, The Raptor propelling his hulking frame through the ground above. Time itself appeared to slow down, as waste-tainted water and blood splashed off of The Raptor and onto the soldiers, who were stunned and in shock as the 7"5 behemoth rose out of the ground. Faster than the soldiers could react, he lunged forth with the first foothold he could find, tearing their leader in two with ease.

"I am no hero! You will know true pain for assuming that I can be so easily destroyed!" As The Raptor spoke, he could see the bullets leaving their handler's guns. The smell of hot gunpowder, the telltale glow in the barrels of the guns, the deafening crack of the ignition, and the sight of hot lead propelled forth towards him. Underhandedly throwing the halves of their leader towards them, The Raptor shielded his face with his forearms, and charged forth. The bullets came with enough force to damage his hide minimally, but not enough to stop his charge. He trampled over the middle row of men, swatting their gunfire aside like insects. As he stepped over their broken and bloody bodies, he grabbed a soldier by the legs in each hand, turning on his bony heel to throw the men at the remaining soldiers, most of which had been stunned by the throwing of their leader. As they struggled to get up, The Raptor sprayed acid on a small patch of street where one side of the men struggled, focusing on the few soldiers left to the other. He charged forth, kicking one struggling soldier in the face, caving it in, his bony tow piercing through the facemask and impaling him through the head. He then swung his leg to the side, inflicting the now deceased man with whiplash sufficient enough to decapitate him. The Raptor scraped the severed head onto the pavement before grabbing two men, one by the arm, and the other by the back, and thrusting said body parts through each other. The Raptor put his foot tot he back of the man who had been impaled, and grabbed the other soldier's arm that had been used to impale him. He ripped the arm off, and used it to fatally fracture the skull of the impaled man, before throwing it across the street at a soldier who had managed to crawl out of the acid. He swung his tail into the one-armed soldier, flinging him into a nearby brick wall. He then grabbed his one still-living comrade, and threw him into the wall next to him. The soldier was too weak to help his friend, and simply watched in horror as The Raptor disemboweled him and began eating his innards, tossing his empty husks to the side, the top half landing next to the soldier with a blood-covered, horrified stare.

The Raptor approached the bleeding soldier. "Who do you work for?" He demanded. "I'll never tell, you overgrown-" The Raptor interrupted the soldier's remark by kneeling over, and gripping his exposed arm bone with his clawed fingers. "Every time you don't tell me what I want, I take another part of you." The Raptor accentuated the point by spitting acid on the spot where his arm used to be, cauterizing the wound. The soldier still didn't talk. The Raptor began to pull his jaggedly-broken arm bone, but the man's screams were silenced by a gunshot to the head. Judging by the sound and the amount of destruction caused, it was a sniper round. The Raptor was too caught up in his interrogation to notice the assailant, who at this point was gone. The Raptor searched through the lower half of the leader of the soldiers' pockets with his beefy, clawed fingers, and produced a photo of a burly man. It appeared to have been taken from a distance, without the subject's knowledge. There was a name scribbled at the bottom of the photo in red ink, the corner stained with blood. The name was William Greystoke.

@y_intercept:

I thought it was a dream at first, the sound of someone banging on my door. I ignored it , thinking that it would stop; there was more sleep to be had. Clarity was gained, when the wrapping grew in cacophonous repetition. The bedspread was gnarled. My guess, a much wilder night of sleep than normal, I slipped on one of the linens before reaching the door. Finally, I peeped through the looking hole and saw that it was Dr. Garcia. Undoing the latch and lock, I questioned his presence, and allowed him in. I excused myself to go put something more than simple underwear on. Somehow I felt that even in my own home I needed to be professional in his presence. He sat one the couch, perched like a sentinel on watch. Finally I sat in the chase just perpendicular to his gaze.

"There is no light way of putting this. Avery, we need you to vacate the premises immediately." My gaze averted to the corner of the room, staring at the black tv screen. "So it wasn't enough that I'm out of a job. I can't even live here anymore. Look, it's been years since I was actively saving lives that way. I'm sure..." Dr. Garcia cut me off, his face less stoney, his hands clasped together like a compassionate father. "The hospital. We. I, I just can't take the chance that because of you we'll become target. I know its hard, but I'm sure you understand. Don't you have friends you can stay with, at least until this thing blows over." The fact was...I didn't really. I kept to myself. I knew that my life was one of solitude, having friends, relationships was simply a unrealistic. "Yeah..Sure. I sighed heavily, lying through my teeth, wondering where in the hell I was supposed to go. Let me just get my stuff, and I'll be out by in a few hours"

I emptied out my closet, and saw a sad reality. My uniform, scrubs, had allowed me to widdle my personal collection of clothing down to a few shirts and pants and shoes. It all fit in a duffel bag. This was my home, and the hospital paid for it as long as I lent my services. And since that was no longer the case, I was expendable, and a liability. The worst kind of terrible.

There was only one person that kept coming back to mind when I thought of friends, possibilities for me to have a place to lay my head for the time being. I flew to New York, in hopes that an old flame still burned a little. I'd had the address for months, and the number for longer...And I still hadn't the courage to contact her/him..whatever. The point was, desperate times called for desperate measures. Using a goddamn pay phone, because the hospital paid for my phone too, I had only enough to make three calls. One ring, two ring..."Hello.." I was silent for a moment, taking that time to thank God for this gift. "You answered...I mean...Hey..It's me...Its Avery. Listen, I know things are weird between us, but I need a really huge favor. Would it at all be possible for me stay with you for a while. I promise you won't even notice I'm there. I'm just..I can't really explain much, this payphone is about to cut out on me in like two minutes." There was silence again..."Yeah sure... You have my address, just come by. It's awesome to finally meet you in the flesh. But don't try and funny business" I smiled, and hung up, taking no time to dally. Along the way however, my mind couldn't escape the fact that her voice had changed since the last time we'd talked...Not in an estrogen induced way, more like wacky and playful. But questioning anything at this point was well...Out of the question.

I knocked on the door, and she answered almost as soon as my knuckle hit the faded paint again. "Avery! OMG!!!" I didn't know what to call her anymore, so I just gave into her embrace, as she hugged me. She sniffled, her eyes were a little off looking. "You've got a cold. Or allergies?" I asked, just to break the ice; small talk was never my forte. "What?" Was all she said. She went into the bathroom and locked the door, I just laid down on the couch and fell asleep. When I awoke, she was smoking a blunt next to me, and offered me some. "No thanks. You know I don't smoke." "More for me then" She excused herself to the bathroom again, but this time for an extended amount of time. So long in fact that I worried. "Do you need any help." Little did I know just how much she really did need. "No thanks. I'll be out in a sec." The door opened but I heard no flush, no running water. I couldn't stand what I saw when she looked at me. I'd seen it before, all to often. D.C. was full of junkies. The traits were there.I pushed past her, and she tried to stop me, but the evidence was plainly in sight. There was about a half a line left.

Infuriated, absolutely outdone by all of this. "What the f*** is this. You're a junkie now. Weed's not enough anymore. Where did you get it. You know you can't do this, you're destroying your own body...This sh*t...I can't..." She just stood there, like a child that'd just been scalded by a parent, my diatribe only weakening the little self worth she had left. "I know...Its just, this whole thing..I needed something to take the edge off. I needed something to help."

Suddenly, this had become more about drugs. It had become about them both. "I was there..You shut me out. I could have helped you..I want to help you still. Where did you get this stuff. Take me there" She knew that I was serious, she knew that I would not relent until she gave in.

We showed up at some building, three levels, a brick veneer covering the sinister workings going on inside. I turned to look for her, and she was gone, I only heard the clatter of heals almost a block east down. "I'll be your hero if it's the last thing I do"

New York

A recent contract,has sent me to New York.In order to stop a mass murder from destroying the whole.Not really sure how anyone expects me to stop someone who has that much damn power.But,i mean a jobs a job as along as I get paid for it.As those thoughts float through my head,I hear the familiar crunch of a Gothic City styled hot dog.The mouth water flavor overwhelms my taste buds.A little bit too much,so I wash it down with a gulp of crispy Bear-Cola.The crispy taste of the cola mixed with the describable taste of the hot dog was match made in paradise. As I was about to move away from the bench I was eating on,I spotted @thee_champion flying in the air,apparently talking to himself (@temporal_hound).I sat back down on the wooden bench,as slowly tilted my head to the side trying to get a better view.

Then out of the blue something latched onto the hero.I spat soda all over the sidewalk.it was another human(@vici_aurelius).More than likely a meta-human.So I sat there enjoying a show and a meal for free!After they stopped fighting,they seemed to come to some kind of agreement. The only thing in the conversation that I cared about was the part about splitting up to find the individual that committed genocide on the small Asian village.Knowing that I wouldn't be able to take who did it by myself,I decide to follow the champion.I couldn't careless if he spotted me,he had more important things to worry about then some random mercenary non-threateningly following him. Especially one drinking a can of Bear-cola.So I don't even try to hide the fact that I'm following him.

@_sojourn_:

“I can make a b!tch sell me her knees” Y said, stepping into the light in her telltale black lycra suit styled with Timeless yet decadent, Christian Louboutin's Patinana pumps. Hardly suited for combat, the cocaine goddess kept her distance, while her legendary terracotta warriors mutely moved into position. “I don’t think you know me” She said, flicking her lighter to ignite a cigarette, her brain still swirling from the effects of cocaine. “But I know you” now fully in the light Y’s russet oriental eyes bounced off every muscle on Avery’s body.

“You’re one of the few” her words momentarily paused by the inhaling of her cigarette. “One of the few that truly know what VERITAS means”. She continued, this time exhaling the smoke. As it littered past a blinking light the faint presence of her warriors could be seen scouring the rooftops.

Whether or not he was the same man from her host time period was irrelevant, she made it her business to intervene in the affairs of their equivalents. “They’re hunting you, killing off every being that holds that word to heart. I want to…” It was unclear if he heard it, but she certainly did, the not so subtle sound of a rattler off the back of a rattle snake.

“I want to protect you Avery” She said, extending her hand out towards his knowing he would not take it. “I want to save you from those who threaten your life.” Y continued, by now the sound of the rattler became more persistent and loud.

It cause her pupils to dilate, her stance and demeanor became increasingly more erratic. “All you have to do is…fck me” the moment she dropped her hand, the horde of terracotta’s perched atop the many bodega’s launched themselves to the street’s surface surrounding the young man.

“If I can’t persuade you, then I will have to force you” augmenting her bones so that she carried less weight, Y launched herself from the stationary position towards Avery intending to knee him in the pelvis. Regardless if her attack worked or not, he would be at the mercy of her unrelenting Terracotta warriors.

“Get my room ready, we have a show to put on.”

Abandoned Warehouse - New York City

Amidst a labyrinth of dead bodies, the Hunter and Kurrent had wasted no time in getting back to what they did best. The bodies were covered in a variety of electrical burns, lacerations, gunshot wounds, and other signs of sheer brutality. The way these two studied warriors fought alongside one another could only be described as a way of art. Indeed, the Excellence of Electrocution and the Cerebral Assassin had completed yet another masterpiece...

Throughout the years, William Greystoke had forged alliances out of necessity - being careful never to trust too much or drop his guard in any way. This practice held to to all "outsiders." Outside of his own kin, William maintained some level of detachment in all his dealings. People were merely chess pieces for him. However, there were only a few instances where he allowed himself to completely trust one who was not of the Lycan Underworld. Jayden Salvador was such a case - a true brother in arms.

Of all the targets in the warehouse, only one was kept alive for questioning. Handcuffed to a chair, the last survivor defiantly spit blood into the face of Kurrent, who merely wiped it off and smiled a little. The Hunter was leaning against a nearby weapons crate while cleaning blood off one of his knives. With a mask covering his face, no facial expressions could be seen - only the feral yellow glow of his eyes.

It became clear that the man was highly trained. His accent (though well hidden through training), the partially revealed tattoos on his body... and the lingering stench of caviar, pickled eggs, and vodka revealed that the man most likely hailed from Russia. Furthermore, the combat techniques he had used earlier in the fight mirrored those taught by Spetsnaz. However, this man was no mere soldier serving his country. It was clear that he was no more than a soldier or fortune. The fact that he had survived an encounter against Kurrent AND the Hunter spoke volumes on its own.

Removing one of his gloves, Kurrent readied himself for what would come next. Due to the man's resolve, it became clear that more drastic measures would need to be taken before intel could be gained. Placing his hand on the man's throat, Kurrent gave the man something to bite down on and unleashed a steady wave of electricity into the man's body.

After the process was applied several times, the man still refused to talk. "Something is not right..." the Hunter said, finally speaking up. "Mercenaries usually don't hold out for so long... This is not loyalty... It's FEAR... It speaks volumes about whoever hired these men in the first place."

Moving over towards the man, William removed his mask and sank his teeth into the man's flesh. As he tasted the man's blood, the process of transference began. Greystoke then released the hold and took a step back. The Cerebral Assassin then drew his blade and decapitated the man in one fell stroke. Wiping the blood away from his mouth, he looked at Kurrent and said, "I know who sent this man to kill us... We need a jet."

It was always the feminine form that M preferred when roaming. It would often serve it well, swaying individuals that the way that it would wish to. A more slender form adept for espionage and stealth, over the male body's ideal form for combat. However, now, it might not serve it so well. There are times for detraction, and there are times for...

It would seem that it would need to prepare for more ensuing chaos that seemed to constantly spawn about this unstable world. This local was particularly a point that was as if something a beacon for chaos, a magnet. Chaos is not always a bad thing, as there seems to be no perfection, nothing that is well suited for everything in world. The chaos of change allows for adaption and uneneding evolution. Indeed, this is why the Artificial Intellect that was M decided to take such an ironically chaotic and ever changing, ever adapting form. Something that was not like a machine in the sense those are accustomed too, but certainly not human or metahuman. Something of a machine composed of flesh, would be something of an accurate description. There was no "name" for it. However, "identity" as many humans and other natural beings called it, was very irrelevant to it, being that it had many, many identities.

To do something drastic would likely mean the destruction of a potent avatar and alerting high things towards it's existence. However, drastic action may require drastic measure. Watch and wait seems best. It would watch the area through many eyes, as the entity itself seemed to fade from existence, parts of itself blowing away with the wind like sand as it broke apart into small particles, dispersed and ready to reassemble it's cells wherever fit when and if the time comes.

@y_intercept:

It was as if she knew exactly what buttons to push, to take control, pilot my mind to a time that had long since passed. This woman, spoke of things that couldn't have been known, unless...Unless she was from there as well, which by all intents and purposes wasn't impossible, but very unlikely. I myself had only awoken to this reality a short time ago. Yet still, there was a foreboding power in her slickness. With little warning, she attacked, but not herself. Under her command, fabled terracotta soldiers descended upon me like rigid waves, a constant barrage of brutality.

Normally I was more than capable of defending myself. But in this case, something differentiated within me. Some shift in power had taken place, no doubt the work of that slithering witch. The clatter of porcelain fists drowned out her voice, but nothing could have prepared me for what would come next. In a blazing, inglorious dash she swept through like a single minded tornado, striking me just so that my consciousness left me.

When I awoke, my body glistened from profuse sweat. The lavish bedspread was futile in comparison to the sheer amount of devastation I felt. My arms and legs were tied, steel like threads cut into my wrists and ankles, my mouth gagged with a solid spherical device, placed just so that I could breath almost normally, and drool seeped out of either side of my jaws when I tried to struggle. All I could do was moan, guttural and animalistic sounds that noted my rage. It wasn't even then that I noticed my bare body, and the room got colder, an omen to note her arrival.

The silence was the worst, as if she knew that I couldn't do anything. I couldn't think about it, I wouldn't even have guessed what was going to happen. She mounted me...Violation was the best way to describe it. And when she was done with me, I just laid there, a twisted piece of existence, emotions and things resembling thoughts. Is this what it felt like to truly be at the mercy of someone...To truly have no identity and to be just a thing...I just laid there...and just laid there.

"I know who sent this man to kill us... We need a jet."

Before The Hunter could call the order in, a blue aura began to shimmer behind Kurrent. In an instant a hooded figure appeared and with the ferocity of a hungry lion attacked The Electric Ace. In the blink of an eye The Hunter’s most trusted ally fell limp, head turned completely around. The hooded figure quickly raised his right hand towards Greystoke. His gear became heavy as if he was being magnetized to the ground by them.

“Down boy”, said the man in the hood and the look on The Hunter’s revealed that he know who this mystery man was. Releasing his grasp on him the hooded man used both hands to remove his cover. Before The Hunter stood his friend, and ally Kurrent.

“What the hell is this?” remarked Greystoke as he gripped the hilt of his sword. His tone was fierce and his demeanor was begging for a reason to attack.

Quickly Kurrent, the real Kurrent began to speak…”This is all been a game. A dirty game that someone has been playing and we are the players. For the past five years I have been trying to handle this on my own but it has gotten out of hand. What is happened now is a game changer, this is an end game”

He paused in order to give the Hunter a chance to process what he had just told him and began to go more into detail…”This all started a few years back I was in a village in Asia minding my own damn business when the attacks started happening on me. Looks like I was number one on the kill list. Then out of nowhere you show up, we throw down and I win but I knew that something wasn’t right. I had my own autopsy and found this…”

With his free hand he waved it over the dead body which was in front of him. A strong burst of power resonated from his hand. The sound of ripping flesh and cracking bones could be heard and before you knew it a metal orb now rested in his palm.

“This, my friend is a tech like nothing I have ever seen. It has the power to copy and manipulate DNA” He motioned at the Hunter to look down at the body which no longer had the likeness of Kurrent but it was that of an elderly man.

“I was able to track down where the fake Hunter came from and it lead me to Thailand. They are using these orbs to animate dead bodies as carbon copies of us. They have legions of copies of me, you, Feral Nova, Slight, Sha, Gambler, the list goes on. I think this new attempt, “the all heroes must die” crap is trying to flesh everyone out so they can steal the blood and make more. It’s been weeks since I had a lead but now with the info from your Scooby snack over there we can get to the bottom of this."

Skeptically the Hunter looked at Kurrent and said, “If what you are saying is true, how do you know I am not a fake?” A large grin came upon The Ace’s face almost as if we wanted to say this to him, “because I have killed sixty seven of you, and none of them have smelled as bad”

To be continued….