12:03 to Baghdad (Team vs Team RP) IC

Ribs Joint, Washington DC

Alexander sat in his usual spot with his usual paper while having just finished the house specialty. His fingers were sticky from the secret sauce the man behind the counter kept secret from the world, a family recipe he always said, at times he was tempted and subtract it from his mind. But how fair would that be? It's so much better when people give away their secrets willingly.

What would he do with the sauce anyways? It's not like he knew how to properly grill a carcass. Sell it to some one percenter so he could charge it for twice the amount that he pays now in a luxurious restaurant? No. Some secrets are better left alone. The truth behind the secret sauce would hurt more than it would help anyone.

Sometimes it's best to create a different sauce that tastes almost like the real thing but actually isn't. Tell everyone that it's the original even if it tastes slightly different. Some people might question it but ultimately they won't care. A lot might even like this version more than the real one. This has worked so well for Pepsi.

Why shouldn't it work for the CIA?

Somewhere stereotypically Middle Eastern.

The greatest thing about working with the U.S of A are the sick toys. They called it "Furtivus", it's supposed to mean stealth or clandestine in Latin. Why can't they just call it the stealth suit? Why does everything have to mean something else in another language.... It’s so exhausting to Google all this crap.

Still, it's not much of a stealth suit when the invisibility settings are not turned on. I look like I just ripped off Tron, not that I don't like it or anything. The design is dope, it's just not very effective if by any chance the suit fails or something. Did it really have to be this color in order for it to bend the light? And how much power is wasted by keeping these lights on.

They could afford to make this but not some super stealthy vehicle and now I have to walk two miles to find the base and not tip the League off. I know we're fighting ninjas but come on, it’s not like they could do much against us if we just let Douglas go loose. Why don't we just drop in full 80s hero and get it over with. It's not like they are going to go down quietly anyways. Let's just cut through the foreplay.

Not that I think about it, it’s sort of insulting that they had to make me a suit that made me completely invisible and unhearable...unlistenable? Do they not trust my abilities to be quiet? This is so boring; I can't even listen to music while walking because of the freaking GPS in my ear. Yes, lady, I know I still have two miles to go. I don't see a giant death temple yet.

40 minutes later of uttermost boredom

I still don't get why I couldn't run; it doesn't make any sense. Okay. I'm here. Now what? Do I just wait to get stabbed or walk in? This place looks completely isolated but I bet there is a crapton of ninjas hiding in there making it seem like it's abandoned. Or it really could be empty and this was a waste of time.

Maybe I should wait for orders before entering the place.... Nah. Odds are that they are inside and they cleaned up the place before I could get there. Just in case, I'm not going to deactivate the suit, I don't want to get yelled at by Jones for screwing up the hole stealth vibe that we have going on.

Once upon a time our legacy was larger then legend. Governed by illustrious warlords, knights, and warriors who had all ceremoniously descended from a solitary bloodline of reputed assassins and proud carries of the mutant X-Gene. Or so they would have had you believe. In truth we were baptized in an elixir of poisonous manipulation, forged with hidden daggers and deadly whispers. A legion of traitors, charlatans, and and proud authors of the dark triad. The malevolent trifecta of self-aggrandizing personality disorders. Who's only true legacy walked hand and hand with betrayal and madness. At the height of our power we built nations, at our lowest, we employed disassociated youths to carry out synchronized mass shootings in the already crippled city of Gothic, simply to discredit a brash but otherwise honorable hero. Those who sought to redeem us were subjected to horrific scenes of violence and a constant cocktail of betrayal. Anticipating its arrival but unable to pinpoint the shadowy habitat in which it lurked. A fact well known to our new al'Shaytan who's preemptive audit of our organization has unleashed a wave of horrific theater, as our brethren are tried in ceremonial displays of mock trials below our now empty temple. New laws, new decrees, slowly implemented with deliberate drag....almost as if to prolong the systematic eradication of the League of Shadows. Not as an organic evolution into something grander, but a rather a bonfire of brutal annihilation on a highway to extinction.

Little does he know that there are forces within, as well as out of, the League of the Shadows who seek a similar resolution. Only difference being they have unwisely marked the Supreme Shaytan as an advisory.

Alea iacta est - "the die is cast"

Blood raced through a series of esoteric sigils laced throughout the floor as the squirming body of yet another executed assassin, throat surgically slit, disturbingly slumped to the ground. The hooded executioner presenting the crimson stained instrument above his head while bending a knee to the al'Shaytan. Face obscured by shadows cast by his own hood of similar, yet honorable distinction. A small yet moderate collection of scattered leaguers silently in attendance, none of whom had detected the unexpected arrival of the stealth based eavesdropper. But the supernatural pack of loyal Lobisomem were freely roaming the hollowed out catacombs in their natural state, senses heightened and alerted. If the acrobatic arachnid was not diligent in his approach, the multifaceted awareness of the al'Shaytan's apex hunters would detect a disturbance. Even the subtly of emotional stimulation could trigger sub-conscious alerts and a natural propulsion to investigate, to sniff.

The Otherrim

“I’ve always wanted to be the one that changed the negative perception of my bloodline” Maya lectured, allowing Y to manifest in physical form within the walls of the Otherrim. “But I can see now, no one ever wanted us to be role models. I don’t know how my Father or Mother did it.” She continued waving her hands in swipe manner to navigate the newly crafted “Book of Maya”.

“I’ve met a variation of you Liafadors in every universe, and I can honestly say I’ve never met one I’ve actually liked” Y responded. “That’s just it Y, we were never meant to be LIKED” Maya added, eyes focusing on a spell she crafted months ago; before the fall of gods, while she was secretly using konite.

“Sometimes doing what’s best for people doesn’t make you popular. Do you think Leonardo, Leonel or even my on father couldn’t have killed my mother? Of course they could’ve. Spain needed to fall to be a symbol to the rest of the world, to humanity. Don’t rely on the “patriotic” to fix your problems. After Spain, there should never be another super couple in world politics.”

The spell was fairly simple and easy to concoct, without her dagger to Serene Sorceress was forced to using rudimentary methods to do what a flick of her wrist usually accomplished.

“How does this spell work?” That irritating voice asked, promoting the 5’11 Liafador to explain what was about to happen.

“The way I see it, the dagger is the most important thing to both of us, so it makes more sense for the both of us to look for it; than to have you masturbating in my mind all day.”

“After my mother and I fused at Zeon’s Matriarch crowning, I drew this plan up should we ever have to team up in the future. Events like the Cataclysm would’ve been prevented if we both were able to tap into each other’s powers. I guess what I’m saying is: I’m giving you a physical form—one that I can control”

“Transmuto Obsterum!” She chanted in cadence with the instructions of her spell, on first go, the thick ornate mystical energies danced around her lithe structure tracing her unique figures until a mold was crafted.

Then the second cadence, Y’s mental presence in Maya’s mind was cleared; shifted to that of the new mold, a mold Maya could control without ever leaving the Otherrim.

“Is this your mother’s mask?”

“No, It’s a replica. I just thought it looked cool.” Maya dispelling Y from the Otherrim.

LoS

“Another dead assassin” Y asked, her words being guided by the Scarlet Sorceress using the vessel like one of her enchanted mirrors. Maya’s hand extended toward the now deceased assassin, with a subtle twitch of the index finger—he rose. “I have use for the dead” She continued whilst making a fist, her enchanted mirror appeared snagging the soul before it left to receive judgment.

“You should not grant death so negligently Al’Shaytan. Death is a gift to be earned. Imagine what you could do if you took it away? You’d have people selling all kinds of things to achieve it.”

Unbeknownst to Maya, the silent crusader moved ever closely to the legendary dwelling, his intentions and motives unknown; but he was knocking at the gates of hell.

I can feel the twitch in my skin , a change in the static. The background flow of the universe. Something is stirring and now it is time to present myself.

"The quarrels of lesser men do not concern me @nikademus. These people who wish to run this world are welcome to try. They will find me most uncompliant." The Enigmatic Energizer standing up and walking towards the door.

"Your league can consider me an ally. But i shall only entertain your ways when i deem it fitting for me to do so. Until then you know how to reach me "

Making a grand gesture of his leaving by apparently vanishing from sight. His body becoming one with the fabric of the universe. Solidifying miles away with a wide smile upon on his face.

@kineticist: @superior_nobody: @maya_liafador: @the_league_of_shadows:@nikademus

There whispers are abound. The United States are planning on striking at the Sleeper and his false followers. A climactic duel, to be sure. The winner will lose, and the loser will win. It will leave them weak. Vulnerable.

The nameless monk was leading a group of assassins onto the shadows. His plain robes and simple staff did not do justice to his power. Twirling the wooden implement, a vortex of wind spun into existence on the empty hill, and the Leaguers were pulled in. The Mourning Sparrow emerged first, his new armor cutting an imposing figure reminiscent of the original uniform attributed to Quintus Knightfall. He pointed a blade out at The Xsoteric and issued a proclamation as his brothers emerged, weapons drawn. "You are no al'Shaytan. You are no leader. You are no assassin. You are a traitor to the League. And the penalty for that greatest of offense is death."

Two of Sparrow's men stood together. The monk and the American, Pestilence. The bringer of disease exhales, a purple cloud barely visible in the darkness escaping. The monk thrusts his arm, a gust of wind spreading the disease among their enemies. It's symptoms are simple. First, your skin degenerates. Then, you die.

The Black Arrow, named for the deadliest of Tolkien's weapons, his scarred visage hidden behind a mask, draws back his bow, a gleaming iron arrow resting on it. His sights are on Nikademus, the false Shaytan's white armor making him an easy target. The arrow is enchanted to resist most magiks, but he does not expect it to work. It's immunity is a distraction, so that another can strike.

The Mourning Sparrow, moving like there is nothing in the world can harm him, is striding towards the soon-to-be-late leader of the false league. Even as he moves, arrows and bullets bounce off of him. He is no superhuman. Instead, his armor has incredibly thick titanium plating, enough to stop an RPG. He does not expect it to work. The Sleeper is not an opponent one can prepare for. You can simply fight. And hope to live.

@the_league_of_shadows: @maya_liafador: @mourningsparrow:

Washington DC.

From a young age, I watched as Jayden (I hate the name, it was his mother's idea to call him that) grow from a boy to a man. I saw as my son lead a self-destructive, hedonistic lifestyle because he had no one to teach him otherwise while he was growing up. He didn't have anyone to simply say "no" to him. When you inherit all the wealth and power that comes from the Knightfall name you need someone to put you in your place when you are young. Otherwise, the selfishness that every child naturally has grows into condescension when you are older.

As a father, I had to defy every instinct that in me he was down. Sometimes I wanted to help him but most of the time I wanted to hit him for doing this to the family's reputation. It was almost as if he was searching for something between the legs of women, a comfort that he didn't get from his mother. A drug to forget the inevitable, that childish notion of immortality that every boy has up until a certain point in their life.

All the qualities that I had taken pride in myself seemed to be non-existent with Jayden. The only good thing that ever came out of him was his seeds. They took hold of the real Knightfall qualities that made us the pioneers of humanity's revolution. In many ways, they were more of my children than they were his.

Cassius had inherited my affinity for guns and strategic prowess, Andres cared for our family's legacy as much, if not more than I do. Despite his scandalous tendencies like his father, it was clear from the start that he would eventually settle down and start his own line. Ellie was tougher than all of the boys combined, even Cassius, no other person has endured as much pain as her yet she managed to keep it all together.

Quintus showed promise to be a worthy heir but in the end, it was obvious he was just like his father. A disappointment, a thorn to the Knightfall name at best. Every single heinous act that he committed for the so-called "cause" he was supporting at the moment was even more disgusting than his father. At least, Jayden didn't hide behind a false sense of idealism to justify his misconduct, his lack of discipline.

His time with the League and ultimate downfall can never be known to the world otherwise, the Knightfall name will be stained forever and our sacrifice would have been as meaningless as his putrid life.

The Catacombs....Five Minutes Ago.

Damian walked through the underground sanctuary, this place was out of a horror movie except it was too real. The fact that he couldn't see his own body because of the armor made him think that he was already dead and he was just a spirit lurking around, he was expecting to eventually find his dead body on the ground. This paranoid moment was squashed like the bones he accidentally stepped into. With the cracking sound, he stuck himself against the wall before realizing that it was him who made the sound.

Communications were down, this was the second time this happened on a mission and he was beginning to get a little pissed off that this kept happening. You would think that with the huge budget this team has that they could afford better reception. Nobody just kept crawling through the wall, searching for other teammates around the place or anyone alive.

From the echoes in the catacombs, he tracked down two voices he did not know. Of course, with his Aurelius luck, they would be the bad guys the team was supposed to bring in. Damian stood for a second behind them and listened to their conversation, just as he was about to attack other ninjas were teleported inside the temple.

Well shit....So wait, who's the Raysh Al Shaytan? Is it the one with the white cowl or the other one? I know we have to bring in the man in the iron mask alive. Should I jump in or let them sort it out? I think I'll just sit here and fight whoever wins. They'll be weak as hell by the time this fight is over so why waste my energy? I'm going find a nice angle and start recording this. A ninja fight will probably get me a lot of views in VineTube. So much that the sponsors will be practically throwing me money at my face.

Then again...he might die if I just stay here. I really don't know who I should be fighting. I really don't like either of them. This would be easier if @douglas_cipher was here. Speaking of which, where is everyone? There is no way Jones just sent me to do this on my own.

"Sorry, I'm here to visit my grandfather's uncle's friend if anybody could help me. He's the dead guy".

@superior_nobody: @the_league_of_shadows: @maya_liafador: @mourningsparrow:

Solaris was not what you would call...stealthy. It had taken her some time to adjust to the plan but once she realized the best way to approach her role in it she took to it with ease. The Living Star put on her human disguise and took a little trip to the Middle East. She blatantly ignored the cultural taboos of the locals, unconcerned for their ideas of where women should be in society, particularly when she was spending less than an hour in a local town. Unlike her compatriots Solaris could walk through the desert with no problem and did so, following the instructions she was given to find the location they had been sent to infiltrate.

This place looks practically empty. Solaris mused and moved very carefully through the mostly empty temple towards the tracing signal given off by her teammates new suit. Though not particularly stealthy there was much of the temple that was simply without people and she found moving through it easier than she had expected. Once she drew near enough to the location to her voices she crouched low behind the nearest cover and drew one of her pistols. The bullets were high density rubber meant to cause pain and a stunning effect on impact. Mostly it was a weapon she could use against people that wouldn't do so well against her much greater powers without actually killing them.

Solaris activated her communicator and frowned at the interference. A little bit of tinkering later though and she was able to get through most of it. "Nobody, can you read me?" She asked in a whisper. She had yet to penetrate the inner sanctum of the temple where all the action was about to go down but she knew better than to go blindly into a situation, particularly when one member of the team at least was trying to be stealthy. Solaris...well...when you have to wear aviator glasses to keep your eyes from blinding people, stealthy is rarely the first word to come to anyone's mind.

@nikademus:

The fires of the Phalanx rage eternal.

It is the height of the Long Purge, in the age of the grandiose Eternal War. It cannot come to planets that do not welcome it. The concept cannot be felt by those who are not sensitive to the palpable nature of hate. Blood sacrifice must be maintained so that the portals to the Void can be opened. Only then can the Phalanx set foot on a world, and only then can they proceed to conquer it. All it takes is one simple mistake, and all creation is undone. A crusade of violence rolls across the horizon, consuming all in its path - a roaring tidal wave, carrying the weight of billions of corpses.

But Krayt'Sathaan is here for a different purpose. Long ago he sought to betray The Master of the Phalanx. In order to hide his great ambition, he tore it out of his immortal body and sealed it away. He appeared as a calm and collected husk, obeying orders to the letter, but The Master could still perceive Krayt'Sathaan's skullduggery. He could still perceive the fathomless pride of his servant. Trapped in a vice of words, Krayt'Sathaan revealed himself with panic that his plan might not go unnoticed. The Master bound him, and sent him to the Black Citadel. There he was tortured and only released to realize the will of others. These individuals chosen by the Seats of Chaos in The Master's absence would be the building blocks of empires on their worlds. Krayt'Sathaan, however, did not forget his ambition as it lay in dark dreams beyond the Void. Sooner or later he would arrive on a world, and the gaze of his jailers would fall elsewhere for a time. In that moment of laxity he could escape and plot further to overthrow and replace The Master.

For now, he waited. Standing by the al'Shaytan, he pondered upon none of his own thoughts, and acted on the promises of others.

The Museum of Natural History

Klaus leaned back against the wall nearby the Homo Superior exhibit, dressed in his civilian attire of jeans, a sweatshirt, and a Nationals ballcap. He was listening to the audio tour of the museum, learning about the multitude of theories concerning the genesis of mutants and the approximate mutant-to-human ratios of the world at large. He passed by several booths comparing the bone structure of a super-strong metahuman to that of an ordinary man, marveling at the immense endurance that particular mutant had been gifted with. It was a rather humbling exhibit, and perhaps that was the reason why it was so marred with controversy. Klaus found it fascinating.

He glanced down at his self-designed mobile phone. More code-speak. He exhaled softly, tapping out a response.

Remember our deal,

he wrote, sending the text with a final, shaky push on the screen with his forefinger.

@maya_liafador: @mourningsparrow: @superior_nobody: @kineticist: @solarius: @thisisgonnahurt:

Before Nikademus had time to respond to the insightful reality warper Maya, or initiate council with his dark republican, Krayt'Sathaan, or even pay his proper regard to the celestial Kineticist, the Mathmatical Machiavelli and the aforementioned affiliates of the occult were beset upon by a counterfeit confederation of cast-offs. Seeking to indulge in a romanticized version of history in which the title of al' Shaytan belonged to another.

Nikademus squinted and sub-consciously reacted with the least amount of allocated energy for motion. Subtly shifting a shoulder in avoidance of the deadly projectile, simultaneously digesting a plethora of evolving calculations in relation to the unfolding scene. Observing numerical variables as illuminated streams of quantum data and a free-body diagram. The Supreme Shaytan was intuitively aware, instinctively moved towards a tactical employment with the highest probability of success, coupled with the added equation of risk vs reward.

Defiantly squared up with profound posture and antagonistic contempt, the Xsoteric subtle summoned an oddly shaped weapon to his hand from the floor. Its elongated handle and hammer shaped design gave theory to its classification, yet its conceptional appearance was one of a kind.

Dexterous diplomacy of the Sleeper's fingers allowed the Shaytan to stylishly twirl the elongated hammer with increasing speed. Manufacturing a subsonic speed of around 7.5 revs/second (Hz) , intercepting the deceased degenerate's attempted plague of misfortune with a surgical gust of wind. "You would incite death, for the honor of a cursed title? A meaningless name? Tell me this is about revenge or betrayal. Tell me you seek to test your mettle"Nikademus pleaded with moderated sarcasm. "cause otherwise it is a sad affair that you have come here to die in the hope of procuring a collection of vowels and consonants..."he mocked. Unaware that there were converging forces outside his scope of perceptive influence. Forces determined to call the League to task for crimes committed against the innocent. Forces from within the League, cleverly maneuvering himself throughout the hoods and masks of the league. Stealthily procuring information in partnership with yet reveled hands of political power.

With the unexpected fluidity of a slender katanna Nikademus' wielded his Highland Hammer as his body acrobatically feinted before unleashing a mighty duel-handed swing from an upper-cutting position. Targeting the charging assassin's chin, before spinning with basic yet functional foot-work, bringing him into strategic position to confront the leader of the de-famed congregation. "The League is a cancer. And had you approached with a sapient mind I may have been moved to simply surrender the anointment free of pointless bloodshed" he smirked "after all, my ambitions exceed the limits of a poisoned name. But sadly now it is to late, an example must be made" turning slightly and lowering his guard, confidently baiting the would be Shaytan.

One moment Vincent found himself surrounded and bleeding out in a derelict ally of Gothic City. The next, in a cage surrounded by the worst kind of monsters. The ones that used to be men. He didn't know how he got here. The Dublin Devil didnt even know where here was. But one thing was clear, The Mark of Cain had manifested during his state of unconsciousness. And upon coming to, it once again blessed him with an otherworldly sight. His unnatural gaze fell upon the monsters that circled his cage. In that instant he could see all the evil that had been inflicted on these vile beings. And knew that they in turn would subject him to the very same horrors.

Time had no reason in this hell. It had felt like years since his cell had opened and the rabble charged him. He managed to put the beasts down, but was unable to do so without succumbing to his injuries. A repeating theme in his life. Always blacking out and awaking somewhere else. This was no different. Only for once, he awoke somewhere familliar with The Mark still Manifested.

"The Monastery....but how? I must be hallucinating."

Vincent looked down and realized he had not been hallucinating. He was alone, naked, and caked in old dried blood that had started to flake off. He ran hands down his scarred body and realized his collection of scars had grown. He now had several bite like scars across his upper torso and back.

"It really happened."

His tone was dismal as he entered the fabled temple of death wondering what happened in Gothic. After clothing himself in a simple robe. He made his way towards throne room.

"Where is everyone?"

With his enhanced hearing, he could ascertain shouting and the ringing of steel long before he neared the main entrance to the throne room. His unnatural gaze could detect figures through the walls pulsating with some kind of dark energy. His pace stopped as he reached his destination. He stood in silence, his crimson eyes predicting and storing the movements of those currently locked in combat. One last thought ran through his mind as the martial exchange intensified.

"Where are you Abigail?"

@nikademus: @superior_nobody@solarius

The Sleeper's first strike sent the usurper flying, his armor barely shielding him from the impact against the wall. Taking a needle from his belt, he injected himself with a dose of adrenaline and forced himself upwards. He began walking forwards again, this time drawing a blade and swinging heavily, with slow but strong strokes. He leapt into the air, slashing downwards in an attempt to remove The Xsoteric's arm.

The insurgency's archer readied another arrow, this time among for something different. Nikademus' hammer. More specifically, the handle. If his aim was true, he would leave the iron-masked man holding the handle, while the metal end dropped to the floor.

The monk was prepared to attack gain, when he heard the so-called superior hero. Turning towards him, he projected a blast of air, strong enough to knock him off of his feet. Hovering over to him, he pointed his staff at the claimant to the name Nobody, as if to tell him to give up.

The american had disappeared. As per his orders, he was to slip into the catacombs, trying to find the cells and free the remaining prisoners. However, what he happened on was the living star and Equalizer, Solarius. Still in the shadows, he released a spore of toxin, hoping to incapacitate the hero.

@superior_nobody: @nikademus:

“Some secret location this is” Maya scoffed as the Sparrow swirled into the halls fixing a blade on Al’Shaytan. He didn’t come alone, his two sentries stood together, as if they were awaiting a command, the other in possession of a bow and arrow. Perhaps if they were what they claimed to be, they would’ve made out the Dark One standing at the back of the room.

Another newcomer, this one appearing to be an ally standing symmetrically adjacent to Nikademus, but things picked up quick. Soon an arrow was fired, and Maya found herself thrusting her hand to suspend the wayward arrow in flight. “I suppose I can help” flicking her wrist with a bit of agitation, Maya sent the arrow flying back toward the bowman with twice the speed he released it.

This was a new experience for the young Liafador, previously; her family was known to deal with the mainstream threats, thing that would gain them popularity and respect, this---this was not it. This was the underbelly of civilization, demons, assassins; Maya wasn’t in Madrid anymore.

“It would seem as if he’s not the only visitor we have” Maya barked, turning her attention to another asking for Abigail. Who the hell was that? There was still a lot to learn, but now was the time to act.

“Visio Obsternum!” Maya chanted, conjuring her massive enchanted mirror to the battlefield. Maya’s mystic force cast a teal hue throughout the room, twirling both her index fingers The Scarlet Sorceress began to expunge souls from the mirror. “I have a feeling this is going to be one of those massive fight type deals” She murmured sarcastically.

One by one the souls plunge into the Earth, each one landing where a former member of this dwelling once fell. “Rise.” She commanded. On her command skeletal hands of the deceased surged through the topsoil before pushing their way back to the land of the living.

All throughout the dilapidated structure the dead rose; seeking to eliminate those who would do harm to Maya and her allies.

“Now for you!” She said, allowing her mystic energy to swirl in her hands before firing a powerful TK blast at the nosey little spider spying on their movements.

@mourningsparrow: @nikademus: @superior_nobody@maya_liafador

Toxic spores...not a bad choice if you're fighting anyone other than me. Solaris thought. In truth she wouldn't have necessarily noticed him if not for the attack. The spores had no where to gain purchase on her anatomy, not so long as the fires of a star burned inside of her and not when she could shut off internal organs at will. Had he used them when she'd been exposed to utter darkness for a prolonged period the story would have been different. As it was Solaris turned her attention towards him and the shadows. One thing she lacked with all her powers was better than average vision and finding someone trained to be stealthy in the shadows was a difficult prospect. She held a pistol tight in one hand but clearly couldn't identify his exact location. Rather than risk announcing exactly who she was and where she was by tapping into her powers, she opted for a different strategy. Her current disguise would mark her to most as a test pilot for the US military rather than Solaris and she banked on that to help her out at least a little longer.

Solaris acted quickly, back away from the toxic spores and acting her way through a coughing fit. It was surprisingly good acting, she'd seen a lot of people cough before from various lung problems and thought she had a pretty good idea of how the process worked. With her aviator glasses on it would be impossible to see where her eyes were looking but despite the coughing they were looking straight in the direction she believed her attacker to be located. It was in that moment the un-dead began to arise from the ground and behind her glasses Solaris narrowed her eyes. For now they were far enough away to not pose a threat, but that time was limited. This guy better make a move quickly or I'll have to reveal myself to him anyway. These rubber bullets won't do a thing against the undead. In keeping with her acting she fired her pistol a few times wildly into the shadows and continued back toward the far wall. She even went so far as to bring her other arm up across her mouth and nose as if she were trying to make it easier to breath and block out some of the spores.

If he moves, I'll nail him with several rounds from this pistol, if that doesn't do it...I'll have to shed this disguise. Each of her bullets was a rubber riot bullet, designed to bruise and stun rather than maim and kill. The Living Star was powerful but she hated killing, hated it almost as much as she hated the disrespect for the dead that was summoning them from their slumber to act as puppets on strings. Her eyes burned behind her glasses, not yet bright enough to be visible from behind them but the more angry she became, the more likely she was to simply shed her pretense and launch an attack that would vaporize the undead around her.

The swing was admittedly slow and yet deceptively swift, backed by considerable force which had been ignited from somewhere within the embellished muscle fiber of the usurper's exercised arms. He was trained, of that there was no doubt, but he was slow; or at least his initial attack was. Making it easy to evade with a subtle shift in posture. "Mistaken."

Nikademus sighed, realigning his demeanor after the missed swing. His numerical precision streaming over.under, and around the deadly escalation of violence. Increasing in both volume, speed, and complexity as more and more variables/arrivals/defilers exploded from the shadows and the unseen corners of the abandoned Temple. Nikademus feinted before contorting his body in the opposite direction, rapidly bringing his all-mighty hammer into position poised to unleash a surgically powerful blow to the usurper, only to momentarily pause as his handle was struck with another arrow. He paused and glanced as the pesky archer's precision had taken advantage of an engineering oversight, dramatically decapitating the Sleeper's hammer before it was embedded in the usurper's head.

With regained pose the Xsoteric once again sought to down Sparrow's henchmen, flashing his hand forward seeking to ensnare the unnamed blasphemer with a subtle telekinetic weave, if which successful, would be proceeded by a stylish display of linguistic incantations aimed at Banishing the usurper from the Middle East, and unceremoniously burying him beneath the hadal zone of the Marianas Trench.

Sparrow....the false prophet, the misled messiah, had engaged the Shaytan with a small and willing contingent of disgraced outcasts from an eradicated era, but they had not expected the presence of the esoteric enchantress of essokinesis, Maya Liafador. Nor had they bothered to employ a measure of reconnaissance prior to engaging, forfeiting the strategic advantage of knowing the Shaytan's immediate numbers or their capabilities. And now, as they ran the unfortunate luck of having engaged the spying members of the Equalizer's, Sparrow was posed to fight his war on two fronts.

Having indulged the poorly staged theater long enough, coupled with the exquisite execution of Maya's unscrupulous employment of the walking dead; which the Supreme Shayatan had faintly acknowledged before callously lowering his guard, the following assessment had been made with unwavering confidence. "We have tolerated this mockery long enough." nodding towards Maya, silently signaling it was time for them all to leave. Hesitating for a moment as he now stood opposite shoulder of the dark prophet of the Phalanx,"If you so desire, stay here and finish this. Bring me the thorn covered crowns of our enemies."

@mourningsparrow: @maya_liafador: @solarius: @nikademus:

Webbing spun from his wrists and covered the room and the ninja soldiers inside, Nobody was trying to do his best to not die at the moment. One second he was just standing there; the next things had escalated out of proportion. Any confidence he had on winning was gone, maybe his team mates had not been able to find the temple like he had, maybe they had cowered out, or maybe Jones was trying to get rid of him.

Whatever happened, one thing was clear as the Al Shaytan’s cape: He was outmatched, even with the living star he was royally screwed. Damian knew that he had to complete the mission, there was no time to mess around too much. He just had to capture his target and leave. Everything else was a distraction.

“Solarius, focus on our guy. You’re our best hope here” When suddenly an acute sharp feeling at the back of his head warned him about the would be League heir’s attack for no reason whatsoever. Out of sheer instinct his legs propelled him towards the wall.

“Woah! Seriiiiously? What the hell dude? Why are you trying to hit me? I was here before you even showed up. Now let’s use some common sense. Do you honestly think I’m here to fight YOU if I didn’t even know you were going to be here in the first place?”

A-hole.

Just as he was about to move on, a blast of kinetic energy coming from the hottie with booty and the golden mask. He crashed right through the wall and some debris fell on top of him. With his hands, he began pushing it all off.

“Why do girls hit me instead of ON me? It doesn’t make any sense. I’m a superhero for crying outloud. It’s like I just attract the crazy hot type that wants to crush my head. And I mean that in a completely literal, non-sexual way BTW.”

Damian swung towards the Cardinal Princess, his head was aching and not from the danger sense either. With one hand he held onto the webbing while with the other he shot a web at her face to distract her, after that he let go and rotated his hips and legs towards her own lower leg below the knee to throw Maya off balance.

“I mean, you’re the second hot chick that has tried to kill me this year. We ended up teaming up, maybe we can skip the fight and do the same or just go for some Thai food instead (I think that’s where we are). I'm not racist I swear. I'm basically everyone's white friend. I just suck at Geography.”

The Black Arrow disappeared. The monk turned towards his leader. "Go." He disappeared in a gust of wind, intent on finding his comrade and returning to safety. Sparrow's league was down to two members. Fortunately, the false Shaytan seemed about to leave. "Pestilence, find me." The diseased american appeared, having slipped away from the living star. Sparrow led him out of the room, evading the flying blows. They ran for a mile before stopping outside a nondescript room. Inside were the Shaytan's quarters. Sparrow and his lieutenant entered. The room was bare, but for the banners on the wall in another language that neither were familiar with. "We will allow the heroes and the Slepper to finish their fight. I will speak to their leader after the Xsoteric has fled. And we will take this base, one way or another."

Really dissatisfied with this post.

@supreme_shaytan: @maya_liafador: @mourningsparrow: @superior_nobody: @kineticist: @solarius: @thisisgonnahurt:

"This looks like a job for Solaris." Solaris muttered to herself quietly. Her opponent, whoever he was, had gone and there was now no one but the undead to watch her alter her form. Superior Nobody needed her help and they had a target who was about to escape through a portal. She had to act quickly. She shifted into her Solaris clothing and stood up from behind the barrier she'd been behind when attacked. The Living Star flung a beam of solar heat at high speed towards the man in the iron mask. The heat was intense, accounting for his likely increased durability but it was all heat, there was no kinetic force behind it. If it struck the Supreme Shayton would be hit with enough heat to make six elephants pass out from heat exhaustion. If it missed the area immediately around him would still heat up intensely.

Determined to prevent his escape she sent a different beam from her other hand, a burst of radiation and solar energy that sought to strike the portal and hopefully destabilize it. Being composed of light she sent it flying out from her hand at very near to the speed of light. If he was unfortunate enough to get in its way...the damage would likely be far more severe than simple heat exhaustion. Unfortunately it could also send him through the portal. Hopefully he doesn't step in front of it.

The undead arrived at her position and Solaris briefly turned her attention to them to keep herself free of their grasping hands. Quick bursts from her hands and eyes vaporized most of them before they ever got close. She slipped from her position and attempted to sprint across the room, keeping her eyes focused on the Supreme Shaytan the entire time.

The web smack Maya dead in the face, as she tried to remove the thick substance from her face; he’s leg connect just below her ankle causing the Dark One to fall. Touching the web with an index finger, Maya’s mystic force burned through the substance freeing her from her sticky capture. “Shooting prematurely isn’t a way to get a girl to stay” Maya joked taking a moment to eye the surroundings.

The undead moved through the corridors looking to consume the flesh of the living. The Supreme Shaytan courted the intruders, Maya was currently busy with Nobody, and it would seem that all hell was about to break loose now that Solarius had arrived.

With a subtle head nod Maya knew the intentions of the Mephistophelean Sorcerer—Retreat. She didn’t truly understand the reason for the raid, but she did intend to find out. “Since you want it so bad I suppose we can go on a date” Maya retorted channeling the mystic force from a downed location.

With it she connected with the minds of The Supreme Sorcerer, His Ally and Nobody in an attempt to teleport elsewhere.

And so, the life of Sathaan disappeared. Not extinguished, but merely transferred. The Dark Prophet of the Phalanx became something else entirely. Within the span of a few seconds, the Seats of Chaos deemed it necessary to alter the unspoken deal with Nikademus. No longer would he have a mere warlock, but something similar to an entire army. Of course, he could not materialize fully in the realm of reality this war escalated upon. Not yet at least. That would be a process for another, much darker, day in human history. For now he came in the shadow of a single person, a natural-born man from Baghdad named Azarad. Intrigued by the conflict, his gracious host thought it mildly interesting to see what had occurred so near to him. Of course through the vast entangling vines of information bestowed upon him by his alliance with the Phalanx, the God of Evil knew of Nikademus and his growing physical need for power.

But, as the al'Shaytan would come to learn, all power demands sacrifice.

What stood in the midst of the battle that day was not Azarad as he was born and raised. His body, taken by demonic possession, was a conduit through which the entity he unknowingly summoned to Earth could operate. His soul was cast elsewhere and his very being, while cognisant of what was going on, couldn't do a single thing to prevent what was about to occur. He spoke in a language no-one could recognize, the unspoken and unholy words of Ragnarok, where the dark halls were built in secret down into the bowels of Hell itself. Where the dead did not sleep. Where the pursuit of power meant damnation. It was the stomping grounds of the God of Evil, sacrificed to the all-consuming lust for knowledge. Now he sought a new place to call home.

But the words he chanted did not go without meaning. As Nikademus opened the portal for them all to leave, Azarad emerged and took his place where Sathaan once existed. The High Priest of the Phalanx, discarded like a child's toy, was banished back to the Void. Whether he would return or not was ultimately not the decision of the one who replaced him nor could it be influenced by anyone here today. He remained there, blocking the very eldritch walls the Supreme One had lain bare for all to see in his attempt to escape.

"Away from us, you fools!"

With an arcane barrier cooking in his hands, Azarad unleashed a torrent of serene magical energy that tore apart at the atmosphere around him. While not lethal in nature, it was meant to literally force anything that did not belong to Azarad's very small list of friends in the situation away with extreme prejudice. Now that his barrier potentially captured the attentions of the attackers looking to take shots at his retreating allies, he spoke again:

"You now face Azarad! None may pass!"

Solidifying his challenge to all in his presence by conjuring two handfuls of pure arcane sorcery, he prepared to wage war for the al'Shaytan without a second though in his mind - save for the voice of Warsman controlling his every move.

"I swear this never happens to me. I just got a little bit too excited with all the pointy swords trying to poke me." Nobody laughed. He extended his left hand with the palm open forward one of the assassin's face to slapped him down into the ground. This mission hadn't gone smoothly at all but he wasn't expecting the next part.

"Wait, are you serious right no-". Damian was interrupted by the magic surrounding him as he teleported away to another location. Falling on his knee, he rapidly unfurled the bottom part of his mask so the vomit wouldn't get caught in it and spread through his face.

Slowly, he lifted his face and looked at the man in the iron suit and the masked woman. At this moment, he regretted joining the Equalizers but not as much as he would when they were through with him. Knowing the League, he would be tortured and broken and then simply killed once they took all the information they needed from him.

"I don't suppose we can be civilized about this?"

Washington DC

The mission will go horribly. Just as planned. Hopefully, there were a few casualties to entice Quentin into cracking down on the League and letting me do what I do best. Had the CIA been behind this then this mission would have been more successful, this mission didn't need superheroes. It needed soldiers.

I could have sent my people to deal with them but I couldn't possibly pass up the chance to use Quentin when the mission failed. At least, they will have gathered some information on their capabilities to be better prepared on the next mission when I send MY team.

It won't be simple, it never is with terrorists organizations. The greastest power that they have is that they are not bound to one country. They can move around as they please. In fact, this is the closest we will get to the Al Shaytan for some months before we can track him again.

The real objective was to give the United States their villain for the atrocities commited by the League. Someone had to take the fall for what Quintus did. I thought about using Abigail but she gave up her right to the throne and even blaming her would have done more damage than good.

The truth would have hurt my family. I am not going to let them be tainted anymore by Quintus. I'm going to lie to the world, I will tell them that this man is the one who murdered all the children in Gothic. I will tell them that he attacked Washington. I will demonize him nd then I'll dismember him and feed him to the masses.

This is the American way after all.

To be continued