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#1 Edited by Honor Avenger (1974 posts) - - Show Bio

Her time had come. It was that easy and simple. Years in this blighted hellhole called Bedlam Asylum had passed and they had not made a single mistake. Had controlled what she ate, what she did, when she slept and when she was awake. Had separated her from everything, kept her like an animal. Too painful were the memories of Avenger’s Night, of this glorious bacchanal to the eternal law. Caged in beneath the earth with other monsters she had been considered as the worst.

This was now over. They had thought they could use her. Take her out of her little cage, beat her into submission with the technological help of a cranium-bomb, direct her towards a dam and be rid of it. Then they would throw her back into the dark hole only to once again get her out if they needed her again.

No! Not like this! In their titanic arrogance they had become sloppy. And like the Greek titans this sloppiness would herald their fall. Chronos had not controlled the bundle that had been presented to him as his own son and they had been too lazy to run a full check on her. A simple body visitation and metal scanner, no X-Ray. No one had ever noticed she had kept a precious little souvenir from that oh-so-secret mission. Deeply hidden inside her it had endured till it came to use. And that would be now. Only one thing to do.

Utilizing her perfect body control she did something she had never done before: Voluntarily throw up. She felt how her esophagus convulsed and twitched, how it brought up her tool of escape. No one would have ever thought such a small thing would cause such chaos but like usual the biggest catastrophes have the smallest origins. Like a butterfly that flaps its wings to create a tornado this one little item was destined to give birth to burning, agonizing chaos.

The ring of a grenade. In an unobserved moment she had swallowed it during her government-enforced mission to bring forth again at this point. Slowly, watched by the dark walls of her prison that had witnessed her miserable life the last few years and the all seeing eye of the camera, she fished the small ring out if the puke puddle where it rested next to the remnants of her last dinner to hold it up like Excalibur.

What came next was shocking, unnerving to behold. With a disturbing smile the monster known as Honor Avenger slit her own wrist with the sharp stem. In horror the wardens in their safe little watch house beheld how the Gothic City Horror tilted forwards and collapsed on the floor in a fast growing puddle of her own blood.

Under any other circumstances they would have just let her die in her own blood like an animal but the trial on her right to read that she just litigated was too PR-intensive, questions would have arisen and heads would have rolled. No other options right now than to safe her. Grabbing their gear they hurried towards the cursed cell number 13.

Barney was the first to arrive. He was a young man, 24 by now, with soulful hazel eyes and silky brown hair. Well trained, a women’s darling, sometimes did volunteer work for the church. Nice to animals, little kids and old ladies. And with a specific disgust for the monster he intended to save. His mother numbered among the thousands of death victims of Avenger’s Night when some low life had broken into her apartment.

Panting he skittered to the dark chamber and opened it with his keycard, stormed in and there she lay. A beautiful woman with long black hair and deep blue eyes, a monster that hid behind a pretty façade. Trembling from adrenaline he kneeled beside her and fumbled for a pulse. His thoughts raced afraid of the possible consequences for him if the Darwinist Dictator died.

“Come on… come on… give me a pulse… don’t you dare to die you goddamn b1tch…”

Ah, there it was. What? Strong and steady?

Suddenly a bloody demon rose with the speed of a striking cobra. The blood-soiled Jessica who buried them same stem into his jugular that she had used to inflict a superficial but badly bleeding wound to herself. Instinctively his hands tried to hold back the crimson flood but to no avail. His sight was already fading as his killer took his taser and shot his colleague into the eyes. One of the other wardens reacted fast enough to shoot his own taser but Bryan’s dying body was too good a shield and his broad back absorbed the debilitating darts. Honor Avenger on her part just yanked at the darts and made the attacker fall forward. His own weight combined with her own not negligible strength broke his neck when her foot met his chin. The fourth was still trying to get his taser out, after all not two full seconds had passed since the death of Bryan. He would never get the chance. Bryan’s dead body came flying at him with full force sweeping him off his feet. The moment he managed to roll his dead friend’s corpse from himself the stolen baton came down smashing his skull.

Jessica was not done yet. Swiftly her dexterous fingers plucked the key card from her last victim’s belt and pressed it against the control panel of the opposite cell.

A nasty hiss was heard and a smell not unlike the stench of a reptile house attacked her as the reinforced steel door opened. For one single moment the total darkness inside looked almost peaceful only hinting at the horror that dwelled inside. Then, like a light in the abyss, two golden eyes opened and a roar that accompanied Killizard’s attack shook her eardrums. From one moment to the next the enormous humanoid lizard sprung from the dark with deadly claws and manrending teeth. Her reaction was simple. She spun to the side and while he rushed past her she set a single punch right where his ear would have been. As a result the terrible monster landed on its belly writhing in pain.

Still covered in her own blood like some ancient idol the returned Gothic City Horror set one slipper wearing foot on the creature’s head and sought his gaze.

“Go! Hunt! Kill! Eat!”

Killizard did neither need another demonstration of power not any other words. The strange woman was not a desirable prey anymore, maybe even stronger than him. Everything that could evoke such terrible pain was probably more trouble than it was worth. So he did the only logical thing and followed her outstretched finger.

As Honor Avenger had planned he tore into the heavily armored swat that came down exactly thirty seconds after the alarm to intercept. Bullets bounced off his scaly skin, blood and gore splattered into every direction and limbs were ripped out in the process of the reptilian killing machine sating its hunger for human flesh that it had to manage without for so long.

In the glorious symphony of screams, gunshot, animalistic roars and death the Darwinist Dictator strode towards the watch office. As she sat down and started to hack the system the first blood splatters hit the big front pane. Her unique gift made it easy to crack the passwords and worm her way through the digital pathways of Bedlam Asylum. Finally she had achieved what she wanted. Before she completed it she opened a voice call to all floors. Ethereal her strong dark voice resounded through every room in the asylum.

“I know you. I was incarcerated with you. I heard your screams at night. I shared the disgrace with you. I shared your wish for vengeance. And now it is time everyone gets what he deserves. Have fun.”

And after these final words she sent the signal that would open every single cell door in Bedlam Asylum at once…

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#2 Posted by DarkKnightwing (294 posts) - - Show Bio

Unbeknownst to most government officials who did not have level seven access, Bedlam Asylum was constantly spied on by nanorobots. They reported a level 0 event at the infamous madhouse. Instead of mobilizing the military and attacking in full force, they sent one man in. He set to work creating barricades around the grounds. NO matter what happened, these monsters must not be unleashed on the population. Then he climbed into his cloaked helicopter and launched tear gas into the windows. He pulled a large shotgun from the weapons rack on the wall and prepared for the coming assault.

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#3 Posted by Jack_ (2451 posts) - - Show Bio

Always be on the lookout for opportunity.

Harvey had several fathers before the war. Moved from home to home, there was little time for him to truly grow attached to anything resembling a functional family. Yet the advice of his third dad, the one he had been with longest, still rang true to this day, nearly a century later.

Always be on the lookout for opportunity.

They hadn't had much, his third family. Harvey's "dad" had been a real piece of work, so to speak. A professional swindler, he'd conned quite a few good men out of some dough. Quite a few bad men too. Talk about parental guidance. But for all his faults, Harvey's dad was a survivor. Wherever there was money to be made, he always seemed to make a little more. Harvey carried his dad's lessons regarding cash with him all his life. He stole cigarettes during World War II, only to pawn them off to the same people he'd took 'em from. But where he really found money was in rough-housing.

He'd settle debts, or get the barracks bully off your back, or convince the locals to keep out of your way. Sure, he wasn't strong, but he was vicious, and people knew. The other recruits kept out of his way, and Harv walked away with lined pockets. All was well.

Of course, until they stormed one of dozens of Nazi bunkers in North Africa. It was an ill-advised assault, and Harv could only watch as his allies went down around him. Harv? He got taken alive. Interrogated. Tortured. Experimented on. Then the reinforcements arrived. Good timing, too. Harv got off pretty lightly, compared to the rest of his 'racks. He never saw them again.

Re-deployed to the East, Harvey went AWOL after another disastrous charge on a heavily-fortified beach. Not that he didn't have the fight in him; nah, he was experiencing a more unusual problem.

Yeah, you know how it is.

So there he is, watching helplessly as he starts to become part of the beach beneath his feet, when he stumbles across one of those secret temples you're always hearing about. Long story short, they take him in and teach him how to control his condition. Then they taught him a little more.

Harv doesn't age, you see. Not since that day on the beach. So here he is now, outside the Gothic prison, sandy cloak wrapped around his body, metallic staff at the ready. Lookin' for opportunity, just like dad always said he should.

The biggest jailbreak in Gothic history. Lest the criminals make their ways to neighboring cities, many of the upper-class started taking out contracts on the convicts the moment the breakout hit Channel 4. And so Harvey was there, looking for all the best kills.

Bounties abound.

No job is too big, no fee is too big.

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#4 Edited by Omega-One (218 posts) - - Show Bio

He wasn't at all unfamiliar with experimentation. He'd grown accustomed to it's painful procedures when he agreed to have quantum tech implants as a means of strengthening mankind's resistance against the Third Society in his timeline. This however, was far more inhumane. There was no anesthetic, and he was being held captive with the prospect of freedom growing dimmer each and every time he drifted in and out of consciousness. That he was deemed a lunatic for claiming to be some sort of cybernetically-aggrandized super soldier sent from the far future to destroy an unknown cabal of synthetic entities bent on the extinction of all organic organisms before they reach the height of their power was not surprising in the least.

That he was so abruptly knocked unconscious, imprisoned in an asylum for the psychologically disturbed, stripped of his armor and equipment, and experimented on to uncover the secrets behind his exotic ability to interact with certain quantum phenomena, was what alarmed him. Even when primitive and backwards, mankind's aggression, dangerous disposition was phenomenal. The metallic restraints around his wrists were rough and cold to the bone. His environment was dim, shady, and populated by armed guards tasked with ensuring that he not escape. The weeks came and went, it all grew tedious, Bastian however, opted to continue feigning weakness and seized the opportunity to observe. He had memorized the doctors' schedules, the guards' habits, and whatever comments about the system powering his restraints left any careless guard's mouth.

No Caption Provided

If he was to focus on the mission he was sent to complete, he would have to escape. Now was the time. The guards monitoring him weren't plentiful, though they were well-armed. He would have to be cautious, calculated. For now his body was in no condition to tolerate the physical toll of accessing the full brunt of the powers granted by his quantum tech implants. He couldn't erect a force field of continually replenishing virtual particles to protect himself from high caliber gunfire, so he'd have to do his best to avoid sustaining any wounds. With a quick flick of his index finger, he took hold of the virtual photons between the magnetic dipoles or loop of wires nearby and with some limited magnetism, snapped open the metallic restraints around his wrists and ankles. Subsequently killing the alerted guards with a powerful burst of kinetic energy stored in a personal quantum dimensional state, a sigh of momentary relief escaped the Black Baron's person.

"Meine Gott", he murmured in his native German, subtly displeased with his body's waned state, "Meine Ausrüstung (My gear)", he immediately realized, glancing at his patient robes with mild disgust. He was a soldier. Though for now, he would have to settle for being a security guard. Adorning himself with the armored garments and weapons of those tasked with monitoring him, he searched all about the medical bay for some sort of information regarding his equipment's location, but was unfortunate and sought to commence his search elsewhere. The sooner he recovers his armor and weaponry, the sooner his focus can be returned to his top priority, destroying the Third Society in it's infancy.

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#5 Edited by The_Xsoteric (1176 posts) - - Show Bio
No Caption Provided

"This is precisely why the country, and frankly, the World, needs a more proactive zero-tolerance policy in regards to its meta-human population." Spat an ultra-conservative right wing pundit. "The recent failings of Gothic are simply a microcosm of the liberal left's own ineptitude and willingness to incubate the downfall of civilized society."The weekly talk show host continued to consciously facilitate a derogatory ideology, shamelessly pandering to the psychological tendencies of his own political party and their constituents. "For all we know the Democrats decided to come down off from Capital Hill and let these lunatics out of their cages themselves. And for what? I'll tell you, so they could foster an atmosphere of fear driven by their own small minded trepidations in hopes of sustaining a democratic republic of fear. Every Democratic politician should be put on trial for their part in the Bedlam catastrophe. Thats the type of hard hitting honesty you'll only find right here in the no spin zone ladies and gentlemen."A self-righteous salute help drive home the talking head's utter arrogance with unbelievable obnoxiousness.

Charlemagne smiled while muting the television, opting instead to moderately observe the updating ticker along the bottom of the screen while preparing his physically unequaled frame for the war to come. The Bedlam outbreak had not only accelerated his own methodical designs for Gothic, but like any true student of modern warfare, they had forced him to adapt, evolve, employ more spontaneous measures. Strategical evolution would be paramount in the coming hours.

Looking out from an upscale penthouse window down over the habitual grimness of Gothic City, its cloud clustered skyline was periodically filled with the strobing lights resonating from news, law enforcement, and medical choppers as scores of Bedlam inmates attempted to flee into the inner city. Gothic's criminal underworld, not to be left-out, had immediately capitalized on the city's strained resources. Launching their own mercurial plots, schemes, and deals with the understanding that the already depleted police department would be all but helpless to stop them. Sooner rather then later a state of emergency would need to be declared, for Gothic was a snake eating its own tail, utterly incapable of saving itself, from itself.

"Lil pigs lil pigs, let me in"

Through the shadows and back-alley portions of inconspicuous travel the LeBeau Legacy casually walked. Eating up enormous portions of the city with his elongated self-assured strides. Each step bringing him closer and closer to the unfolding catastrophe. For where most people were attempting to flee or escape the asylum, the Last Arashikage sought to gain entry. Cause while the facility may not have been able to contain its resident badasses and bat-shit crazy villains, if Charlemagne LeBeau could get inside and subsequently take control, no one would be able to get in either. Under the right circumstances Bedlam Asylum could become the perfect fortification, and therefore by proxy, the perfect base of operations in which to launch his own take-over of Gothic. After of course the lunatics had burnt the city to the ground.

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#6 Edited by Faatina_Knightfall (197 posts) - - Show Bio

Eighteen Months, twelve days, fourty-four minutes and twenty five seconds exactly, that’s how long it’d been since the rusted iron doors of her cell last opened. She’d been captured in the Gothic City harbor trying to commandeer a cargo ship containing the essential parts to create an atom bomb. The Cerise Swashbuckler sat reliving the details of her incarceration wondering how an adroit tactician such as herself was hauled in by the pathetic Gothic City police. After days of deep introspection it all became clear, she was never on a mission to acquire nuclear materials; she was on a mission to get herself caught—a step-up.

Being blessed with Liafador beauty and Knightfall strategic prowess allotted Faatina with the wherewithal to develop an escape plan, but the guards never stalked her halls; they never once checked on her—other than the camera overhead, and the punctual tray of food they slid under her door she was never allowed to interact with other human beings; for some sort of fear of reprisal.

Her allegiance did not belong to the Cardinals nor the Knightfalls rather to the Pirate Code of Conduct, as the Captain of the Aster; it was her crews’ duty to free her from this prison, if not they were subject to death from all the pirate clans sailing the Indian ocean.

This however was too far inland, they’d never push through Gothic City metropolitan area quick enough to free her; she was on her own. The half Spanish-half French, Pakistani native simply needed to bide her time, but as the rusty doors of her cell magically opened it seemed as if that time had come.

“Well mate, it appears today is my lucky day” She muttered to her pet rat that took up residence in confinement of her cell.

She could hear the jeers and cheers from those she shared the same row with, it was true someone had released them, but there was a gigantic iron door separating them from the rest of the prison. “Now how do you suppose we deal with that” She asked, not speaking to anyone directly; but a man who shared the cell adjacent to hers took offense.

“Ungrateful bitch, we can find a way around it; just be glad you’re out” He hissed, watching as they all stormed the iron door. In comparison to the other prisoners, she was a dwarf; she stood about 5’4 with no apparent muscles, had to typical look of a Liafador, but with the poise of a 1st generation Knightfall.

“Be my guest….” She muttered, moving toward the back of the hall; wanting zero to do with the hording criminals. Leaning on the bars with her hands resting across her B cupped chest; her eyes temporarily scanned the room before resting on a nearby closet just in arms reach. “Bingo.” She whispered, opening the closet to find cleaning powder and bleach; and an ammonia based solution.

“Move” She said crudely, pushing through the mass of sweaty criminals fawning for freedom. Her training with the Israeli Special Forces provided her with knowledge of how to escape situations such as these. Pouring the powder on the hinges of the iron door; she next coated it with bleach—followed by ammonia.

“The corrosive properties of the ammonia and bleach should free us” She instructed. It didn’t work, though the chemical conjecture did melt through the hinges; it didn’t go all the way through.

“What friggin good did dat do!?” the monster behemoth criticized; her head turned in his direction as if she was sizing him up. “Heavy up to…weak down below…” She whispered, before executing a “Ziccarra-like” Pirouette leg-sweep and taking the man off his feet.

Holding him by both his legs she pulled backwards so that her back hit the floor launching him into the door until the iron gave out.

No Caption Provided

“Be grateful, I couldn’t have done this without you.” She murmured stepping over him en route to finding her effects.

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#7 Edited by Warsman (5413 posts) - - Show Bio
No Caption Provided

I can't stop.

It's hard to explain without going into the whole 'you wouldn't understand' cliche.

It's like having sex, over and over again, across every inch of your body, each layer of skin being a pleasure center. Each new death is a new sensation. Even smothering someone in the nook of my elbow is ungodly satisfying. But...that's not why it feels so good. I keep squeezing their skull. I feel their facial bones pop one after another. It's like bubble wrap covering a Christmas present you can't see yet. The colors in the flesh start changing. Flesh is rupturing just under the skin, makes it moist, makes it pulpy. You just want to start ironing out the details, make it one consistency.

This is where things start getting interesting.

Once the skin breaks, the fluid starts oozing out. The pores give way to the pressures on either side and open the floodgates, replacing the acumen in the hair follicles with tiny dots of red. The smell is intoxicating at this point, and I can't stop now. I have to release somehow.

Squeeze a little harder.

Pull just a bit tighter.

Until...it just happens.

Any body part I can get my hands on has the same effect on me, but I find the skull more interesting than the rest of the human body. It's funny how something so fragile has come so far in the evolutionary cycle. It's even funnier seeing them try to avoid their extinction. So many grimaces of horror and grief as I close in for the kill. So many facial discrepancies, differences in skin tone, bone structure...it's amazing. But they are all the same underneath that thin little flap of meat. They're all just plain bone, a beautiful ivory reminder of inevitability.

I guess that's why I like collecting them.


The Pacific Ocean ran red with the carnage in San Betral, California. It only seemed fitting to complete the portrait with a matching shade on the other side of the nation. The masterpiece would convey a deep sense of irony, as one of the world's most powerful and most bloodthirsty superpowers would instead feel a grim reminder that they were not alone in the universe. Throughout the tapestry of time and space, a predator would find them, drawn to humanity without remorse or pity. A merciless killer. Their antithesis, something that would outlast them regardless of any weapon or technological breakthrough.

At the end of the day, Man had not evolved past that point. They were still Men, clinging to antiquated forms of defense and preservation. The next step had to have been mutant, but they were a gene derivative of Man, and shared his weaknesses. No other creature could challenge Man. That is, until a quarter of a million people disappeared in an instant.

The roads of San Betral became mass graves, lined with bodies from one end to the other. Cruel splatters of blood drenched the landscape, turning the dull grey of city life into a vibrant crimson calligraphy of carnage. And why? For revenge? For strategic gain? Nothing else, save for some sick personal satisfaction. A stain on the earth that would never be washed away.

A new genocide.


It's hilarious. Downright hysterical. Even when faced with a predator that would hunt you down to the last child, humanity is still divided. I watch news broadcasts that have interviews with people who support my actions. They call themselves the Blood Pact, and they see me as a messiah from far away, the dawn of a new age. I find this amusing. A major riot in Arbuckle, Oklahoma broke out recently. I remember it well, and memorized the details.

A child was shot by police officers for allegedly wielding a knife to attack them with. What the news forgot to tell you was that he was cornered by police officers for being a suspected terrorist, and he took out the knife in self-defense. He would have been no more than fourteen. The pleas for justice were quiet at first. Peaceful marches. Sitting outside courthouses. But when the officers involved were found innocent, those protests turned ballistic. Several hundred were injured in the first few hours. I remember hearing about the Blood Pact for the first time that day. They called me the Liberator of San Betral, and pleaded for me to come cleanse the bigots from the rest of the world.

I still find it strange.

How can my prey actually want me to hunt them down? It is all very bizarre, but I am not complaining.

I think I will start with a bigger target than Oklahoma. Apparently, that is the equivalent of junk food in terms of flesh quality. I'll save it for a snack. But for right now, I want to complete my masterpiece, and drown both North American coastlines in a hurricane of violence.

I believe it is time for Gothic City to be paid a visit.


No Caption Provided

There would be several signs of his approach, contrary to his appearance in San Betral. He understood his position as a 'god' to some people, and wanted to exasperate that fact for all its worth. The entirety of the battlefield, city limit to city limit, would take on a despairingly red-tinted state. Enough atmospheric tampering would ensure that the coming storm altered the physical manifestation of light to the human eye for as long as he would be there.

Then the first raindrops would start to fall.

However, these were not water. In order to maintain perfect crimson stability, the predator had to tweak a few details involving the intricacies of normal rainmaking procedure. While the normal hot and cold air currents were still necessary for summoning a storm of this size, there had to be a new ingredient added to the impending mixture. Of course, and according to his moniker, this would be an alarming amount of human blood. The downpour would cover the entire city, coating it in a disturbing quality of crimson sheen.

Following all of this, even persisting through the torrential hammering of blood droplets, and even as the sky itself betrayed the sacrifice of untold thousands to the very concept of this attack, there would be one more sign of the predator's coming as well as his hunt.

Last of all, there would be a last fleeting glimpse of the sun, its last beams of light a disdainful gesture of farewell to those within the city.

They were truly left to die.

They were, after all, mere derivatives of Man.

They now faced the Warsman.

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#8 Edited by Vivide (3279 posts) - - Show Bio

Crazier than Brazil, more dangerous than Israel, welcome to Gothic. On one of her tenements she received a 'ping' a message from one of her social media utilities, some of the urchins notified her through an internet cafe that there is another breakout in Bedlam. For the civilians that is their equivalent of a tsunami warning, outside her window she can see doors slammed shuts and wooden planks nailed to the windows. She can smell the smoke coming from the general direction of Bedlam, the flashing lights of chaos. Explosions mistaken for fireworks and between her lids her eyes can make out small figures scattering in the distance.

Lars Alister reminded her that even in Gothic there are strong metahuman presence, one of them is The Kidder who is a female gangster boss with cartoon powers. However she takes after the gangs of old, seeing as she is fond of Edward G. Robinson in 'Little Caesar' and James Cagney in 'Public Enemy'. While her weapon looks like something from the roaring twenties they pack a punch, her tommy gun is or 'street sweeper' as she calls it makes singular shots as if they are cannon fire off a pirate ship. She was arrested after introspection and knowing that her era of gangs is over, but the outbreak might have given her second wind.

No Caption Provided

Besides miss mafia there is Atomic Sun a maniac with atomic powers, currently in deep sleep. She may be one of the few that can fight him on even terms even then she is bound by oath not to go all out, so her powers are needed to dampen out the radiation and mitigate the damage. Gothic city is bad enough without the presence of a fallout, and nobody wants radioactive dust in their cereal. Andrea asked one of the kids to get her Geiger counter as she moved to her quarters to suit up for the occasion, instructions for safe evacuation are handed out by imageboards. Signals relayed between media utilities, those who are able to fight will remain at their own consent but those who cant shall retreat into safer grounds.

Lars and Sarah stayed in their strongholds as Niht took off to the roof, spreading her cape. Cloth transforming into wings, and she vanished into the night.

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#9 Edited by Maverick_6 (10434 posts) - - Show Bio

Class 1 human....Class 2 Metahuman....Class 2 Metahuman....Class 2 Metahuman...Potential class 4."

These were the thoughts of the woman know as Moya as she categorizes most of the innmates of Gothic, them appearing on a screen on her hude, and seeks to identify her primary objective. Man by the name of, Atomic Sun.

Slowly, but surely, Maverick's urban operations were expanding. Business was good. How could it not be? Maverick offered a service that hardly seemed to exist in America, a competent and efficient military force. Many of the U.S Government and even some private sector willing to pay Maverick inc to capture him before he awakens, if possible. If not, he is to be incapacitated at all costs. The man was practically a walking W.M.D capable of causing catastrophic damage if not destroyed. Though there of course many secondary objectives to be optimally accomplished for the most pay. Other inmates who some want dead. And others who might be useful to the corporation itself. One particular objective they were keen to look out for was "The Gothic City Horror." (@honor_avenger) Many wanted her simply dead and others wanted to use her more. Indeed. So many people marked her, she was a target to be attacked immediately on sight if spotted. However, she was no the primary objective.

Moya is to lead her team there. A Maverick urban Operation's soldier with an F.F.S who also specializes in hacking, an M.S.C Special ops Soldier, Moya herself and Pax, They all knew the mission. No verbal words had to be exchanged.

They then appeared, Dropped off near by. As they go through the military. Moya is the one who walks up to them at first. "Who the hell are you?" A commander asks her. "Epsilon two Squad of Maverick Incorporated. We have received permission from the U.S Government to intervene with this situation." "What? How-" She cuts him off and gives a phone. As she says "It's for you." The man was surprised, and shocked as he reveals that they were indeed given government consent and pay to intervene.

Moya was standing by the man looking over her ACR as Pax walked forward and onward straight towards the asylum. The entire crowd parting like water for the giant gene engineered marvel of man. Nobody even attempted to stop the unauthorized man, because you'd have to have serious balls to try and halt a 7 ft 9 (8 Feet in armor) behemoth clad in some really high tech armor. The sleekness of his armor did not detract from the intimidation. Pax didn't do this much for money. Merely for action and for blood. He didn't live a life that lead him to value money at all. He valued experiences. And encountering the pain, the blood and the environments, was enough experience for him.

The Army officer had no choice but yield. Not only was her permission verified, but they she was gone, and so was Pax. The other two soldiers were never there in the first place. Near the asylum, they activate equipment and prepared to breach the asylum.

They weren't here at this asylum to bring order. They'll mostly leave that to the man who got there before them (@darkknightwing) and other "heroes" who may appear. The M.S.C Operative flips his goggles onto his face as he activates them and keeps note of his anti biological, chemical and Rad hardened gear.

All that mattered to them were the objectives.

"Commencing operation..."

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#10 Posted by Jack_ (2451 posts) - - Show Bio



Ready for his hunt to begin, Harvey took a running leap directly at the Asylum's top right window. Rather than crashing through it, he instead vanished into a cloud of sand the instant his body touched the reinforced glass. Finding small cracks in the structure, his essence seeped through, re-solidifying on the other side. While this tactic was fine for infiltration, it wasn't a viable one for hunting. After all, Harvey can only go without lungs for so long. Without energy, he'd collapse into a pile of unmoving dust.

Finding a large air vent, he seeped into it through the grates, sitting cross-legged to gather his focus, as the master had taught him. Closing his eyes behind his reflective goggles, he sought the inner strength he'd need to accomplish his next feat of power.

A small cloud of sand began seeping from Harvey. He had always lined the interior of his cloak with extra for purposes like these. The sand traveled throughout the vents, tiny amounts slipping into the rooms where they led. And Harvey could feel every last one of them.

A light dusting of sand soon covered nearly every flat surface in the rooms surrounding Harvey, endowing him with the ability to "feel" what was happening in each one. It could only be described as a sort of echolocation, but without sound.

What had concerned him most was the cell block. As the sand covered the interiors of the now-empty cells, he could identify trace amounts of nearly everything that had touched the floors and walls of the room.

Blood and vomit were found on the floor of one, highly secure room, as well as the dead bodies of the unfortunate guards stationed there. But there was something more to this room. Everything seemed far too...methodical. There were hardly any other traces of anything unusual in the room. The inmate here lived a structured life, everything going according to a routine. The marks on everything were all in the exact same spot. It was uncanny. Where his sand was slightly elevated on the ground, footprints were revealed, leading out the cell door and into the halls.

The next cell was far less mysterious. Claw marks lined the walls, and scales the floor. It was as if a giant reptile had torn about the inside of the cell. Harv wouldn't even need his powers to track this one down; the trail of destruction it had left in its wake would lead anyone to its location.

Within the third cell, there were more dead bodies. A particularly mangled guard was missing his uniform and weaponry, which suggested that someone had taken it. But even more surprisingly, none of the dead guards had any trace of physical contact with whatever had killed them. A telekinetic, perhaps? But then, the cell would be set up differently. Perhaps the guards had no knowledge of his abilities. But then why had security been so high in this region? Troubling indeed. This convict would probably be of particular interest to Harvey's contractors. Best to find him before the night was out...

Following the heavy revealed footprints, Harvey skulked off into the shadows of Bedlam Asylum, intent on making his first kill of the night.

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#11 Edited by Ojo (410 posts) - - Show Bio

♒ 5 minutes before the Break, Bedlam. ♒

"Every day, the doctor comes to check on me. Again and again and again and again, the dementing cycle of insanity repeats itself. Every torturing second of his presence I sit, forced to listen to his every word. Tied, blinded, silenced, that's how I spend my stay at Bedlam, deprived of most senses, but the only sense I need is smell. It's like his wife forces him to bath in sh!tty parfume, disgusting pig."

"He always asks the same f*&king things, greets me with that same pompous tone, makes a stupid joke about me and leaves. Greenfield, that's his name. I heard the guards talking sh!t about the prick during long shifts. Looks like the doctor might not be as popular as his confidence implies...Pendejo."

The contemplating psycho was kept tied down to a chair. His whole body tied with leather belts which restricted almost his every move. Other accessories included a firmly closed straight-jacket and 'the mask'. A metallic apparatus designed especially to contain his gifts. Put on the head, it blocks the vision with a thick layer of polymers and completely silences the wearer.

However, Dr. Greenfield's examination was interruped by a group of guards rushing past the cell door, an unsettling event in such a maximum-security asylum. Never-the-less, he made the mistake of staying and in mere moments his confidence wavered, it could be heard in his voice that trembled with every scream from the outside. Perhaps he finally realized it was about to end. Lifting himself from the metal chair he quickly rushed to the door and locked it. Using an override protocol he forces the cell into lockdown, seperate from the rest of the system, he thinks he is safe and skitters as far away from the door as he can. His mind must be reevaluating the path that led him to his end: being in locked cell with a psycho.


♒ Now. ♒

The tied Red Baron knew what was going on outside. His gift allowed him to play these chaotic timelines during his imprisonment and with more than enough free time on his hands he prepared for the inevitable break. He ran the visions in his head countless times during the restless nights and spawned a perfect plan for escape. First step: Liberation.

Using nothing but the last month and his bodyweight to bring the belts to the state where only a few buckles from him were enough to tear them, he frees himself of his restriction and stands up from the 'resting chair'. A devious grin molding behind the silencing contraption as he slowly walks towards the doctor.

"N--No please...PLEASE!", the frightened doctor lets out while standing in the corner, his own feces adorning his pants.

Ojo's psychotic mind beings to cloud with euphoria as he bends backward and using the full strength of his body, he launches his head forwards to meet the doc's. Unsuccesfully, the headbutt misses as Greenfield ducks away from the attack. Or was it on purpose? The contact with the metal wall behind cracks open the Mask's lower part, revealing Ojo's sadistic grin.

"Peek-a-boo, motherf*cker!", he begins to laugh.

Suddenly kicking the downed doctor towards the bed, he does not waste any time. Leaping onto the hurt man he begins to clobber him to death with his own head, laughing as he does it. His eyes are wide open, so focused on the body of his former captor, he does not dare to blink. This same vision was the only thing that gave him strength for the past years. It gave him the necessary determination to break free.

In mere seconds Greenfield lies in a puddle of blood. Mostly his own, however even Ojo shed some blood as he lost himself in the moment. Feeling the deed done, he breathes in the stale air, forever storing the moment in his mind. What's left of his restraining face-mask scattered around his bloodcovered, kneeling person.

Galantly walking towards the door, he moves his shoulder upwards and back to force it's dislocation and much like a contortionist slithers out of the straight-jacket. Through tactile contact with the console, he knew all about it's past and absorbed the secrets it withheld since it's installation. Quickly typing in the opening protocol, his face bathes in light.

The door to Cell 15 opens, introducing the now free Cheshire Tiger to the chaos outside. Wishing not to waste any more time in this hellhole he flips off the camera, knowing very well who sat behind the monitor (@honor_avenger), and moves to reclaim his belongings, he heads towards the lock-up.

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#12 Posted by DarkKnightwing (294 posts) - - Show Bio

Knightwing silently rolled his eyes at the government officials arguing in his ear. Some of them wanted the loonies to kill each other and solve a lot of problems. Most, however, voted for Knightwing to enter the madhouse and end the escape before it began. While they sniped at each other, he went to check the proximity detector. It showed two nearby people. One was well known to the government. Maverick. Some department of defense idiot had seen fit to send in unsanctioned mercs. He didn't have enough clearance to hear of KnightWings mission. The other was a mystery, but he was inside already, so he was at least decent at what he did. As he contemplated his potential opponents, a decision had been reached. "KnightWing, you are cleared to enter the asylum. Do what you must, but do not let these monsters out of the asylum. Good luck." KnightWing knew what to do.

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#13 Edited by Darkchild (42991 posts) - - Show Bio


No Caption Provided

It had been a matter of days since his chance meeting with the famed LeBaeu Legacy, he reminded him so very much of his own at times ally Jean. But what was far different was there approach to different things, he remembered when they would simply be given a target or find someone to hurt and they just did. This man was something completely different and a breath of fresh air compared to the man Gen once knew. He stood as he watched a bumbling asshole preach and bitch about Gothic City. Soon the television was muted and Gen found a bit of relief from it, but knew that Charlemagne knew of his presence. So not wanting to bother him further, he simply moved on through the room and into his own station.

Charlemagne and Gen had formed an uneasy alliance for the moment, as the Greece Hellfire Club was all but empty and its contents closed. Gen had no where to find a interesting conversation, and Charlemagne proved daily that he was just that. But it was his mind that brought Gen to his front door step days ago. He could hear his thoughts from miles away, he wanted something big, something humongous to happen to spur a fervent uprising within Gothic City. It had been his main thought for what seemed like days, and Gen picked up on that.

The news proved an easy in for man of Legend, and with Gen behind him almost feigning leadership the act of taking the Asylum would be easy work. All they needed was an in and Gen found them one, a single spot within the Asylum that was nothing but darkness. A place that an army could simply funnel out from. Speaking to Charlemagne telepathically he asked him "How long is it going to take? I mean if we want them to be so ready for war, my demons need something Charlemagne. They need to be given a bit of taste, they want blood and Gothic City would be the perfect place. I have no use to own such a place, but you...you could do so much with it. Just tell me you want it, and its yours...." He waited for a psychic reply from the famed Aristocratic Charlemagne and then he would begin pouring in his men both demon and Parasyte into the Asylum for the inmates and guards to take on. If they were interesting enough, then they would survive. But for the most part, Gen knew that today alot of people were going to die, and he couldn't wait for that moment that he had a life between his fingertips and pull it out kicking and screaming.

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#14 Edited by Akira Overdrive (10214 posts) - - Show Bio

Gothic City

No Caption Provided

Akira sat atop the cold stone of Gothic's most imposing piece of architecture as he silently calculated the constant computations that were streaming in continuous flow into his quantum hard-drive of a cerebral cortex. His ambition of creating an underworld empire had led the Young Yamato's attention to the ever bloody streets of Gothic and he had already accomplished several endeavors that tightened his loose grip on the criminal element that was flourishing. The Analytical Assassin's technopathy was useful when patrolling the crumbling cobblestoned city of chaos. The Reckless Ronin was now in a temporary state of suspended motion while he began to filter out the unneeded static of radio chatter as he heard screams, communications, and news flashes that revolved around the infamous Bedlam Asylum. He easily tapped into to the electrical grids of the surveillance and security systems that failed daily in preventing the criminals from overrunning the entire dark metropolis, and a brilliant strategy began to formulate in his tactical grey matter as he brought up the blueprints of Bedlam along with its entire staff and prisoner dockets.

The players , terrain , and terabytes of data involving the deadly hub of the crazed maniacs of Gothic City were flashing in his specially designed contact lenses that formulated a HUD as his brain linked them to his personally designed AI known as Kimiko. A sweet voice that was patterned after his mother's which was always assisting him in his missions and could virtually read his mind which enabled her to relay any information at the speed of thought. Kimiko's cybernetic hum buzzed in his inner ear as she helped with the evolving plan while Akira was midair after he leapt from the skyscraper in a blink of an eye.

" The Men you seek have been pinpointed Senpai. Their locations are still near the Asylum and some have not left yet. I should inform you that the situation at Bedlam is not getting better. Instead worse... Oh my... these people are insane... Are you sure you are up to this?" Akira laughed with a sadistic undertone at his own creation's sensitive sensibilities before landing gracefully from his high speed free fall thanks to a telekinetic cushion erected nanoseconds before impact and vibranium soles that laced his boots. The perfect driving machine Rasshingu Akuma sat invisible in the grimy alleyway that Akira landed in, until it's stealth camouflaging was deactivated and its beautiful red shining body gleamed as the small gloved hands of it's owner caressed it's curves in pride before the sinking seat housed the adolescent physique .

"You are always so worried about me Kimiko-san, even when you know what I am capable of. It almost makes me sentimental about my mother's death." Akira responded to his AI and thrusted his "Rushing Devil" into full speed simultaneously. Its beautiful frame moving in perfect unison with its wheels as Akira masterfully curved it into the busy streets of Gothic, weaving through traffic like a scarlet snake . A contrail of light trying its best to match his speed. Kimiko chose her next words carefully in fear of her master deleting her existence. " With all due respect Senpai the presence of the LeBeau could hinder your plans. He's already proven a match to your strategical thinking. "

Akira Overdrive said nothing at the remark but instead tightened his hands around the throttle and clenched his teeth as he pushed the machine near it's limits. The speed creating a red blur that made its way toward Bedlam Asylum.

No Caption Provided

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#15 Posted by Mr_Alchemy_ (101 posts) - - Show Bio

San Diego, CA. Two Hours Before the Incident

Mr. Alchemy had made an announcement for the Redeemers to gather in their meeting room. He had prepared a speech the night before, in between his reading of course. As he waited for all his teammates to enter the room he made a cup of jasmine tea. He smelled the aroma the tea gave off and he felt relieved, nothing like a mission and some tea to make you feel alive. Once everybody made it into the room the elderly former villain began to talk, "As you all know an incident occurred in the last 48 hours. Renowned criminal Ginju was captured by the police in Gothic City and was deemed legally insane, thus he was placed in the hellhole called Bedlam Asylum. In my humble opinion it is more of a concentration camp than an asylum, but I digress. Ginju is wanted for various other crimes in other countries, specifically the jolly old UK. Most politicians in the UK believe that he is not legally insane and should be tried for his crimes in their country. This is where we come in. Despite us being within US borders we are an international organization, so we have been 'hired' by the UK to kidnap Ginju from Bedlam".

The old man cleared his throat and took a drink of his tea. "For the actual plan we will sneak in via.........(time passed as Mr. Alchemy told his plan)...........Any questions?" He waited for about a second and said, "Good let's begin our mission".

Gothic City. Ten Minutes After Incident

The Redeemers' own personal jet landed in the outskirts of Gothic City. Alchemy got up from the pilot seat and spoke, "It seems there has been a set back in our plan. One of the crazies seems to have set all the inmates free, but the show must go on. On the bright side you can ignore the whole part about sneaking in. On the not so bright side, to get to Ginju we have to fight through the various inmates.....I mean mentally disabled and criminally insane. Now that we know that, Hal 9000!" he said pointing to @lock_n_stock "Could you absorb all mechanical security measures in our way?" He then turned and faced @timesiphon and @reaver_ "McFly and Adams Family, you two will assist me in the actual heavy lifting". Out of the old man's hand appeared the philosopher's stone. "All right ground control time to kick some ass".

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#16 Posted by TimeSiphon (1138 posts) - - Show Bio


Time Siphon activated her armor and was the first out of the plane. She remained alert and took her bow from her back, preparing to notch an arrow just in case.

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#17 Edited by Just_an_average_man (1774 posts) - - Show Bio
"Red Skies are never good....

There was a red sky in the distance, looming over the outskirts of Gothic city.

An armored man in the distance but near by, with his armored jeep close by, with his rifle aimed at the building as he looked the area over. First "Hero for hire" job. Suggested by his good little cape buddy, Dark Vengeance Junior. (Darkwing) Elliot was scoping the place out as he waited for his new ally, Liz. (@vivide)

The army? If Gothic were a girl, I think she'd be blushing right now. Didn't know they cared. Less of a chance of crazies busting out, but makes it harder for me to get in too.

Elliot has heard a few things about this place. About how it has some of the worst criminals in Gothic here. Already people are making a big deal about some guy by the name of "Atomic Sun." Elliot saw on the news that a lot of heroes and military were here. A lot of panic. Elliot himself didn't feel too good, so he took a bit of time to Rad harden his armor. It was completely sealed off and lined with some lead armoring. Good thing Elliot already had a pretty protective mask. Also lined now with a bit of lead. Prep time works wonders.

New gear, fully healed from his fight with that spirit wolf courtesy of Liz, and back to peak condition after some rest, Elliot was pretty ready for action again. He couldn't help but wonder however...

Who in this asylum deserved to be gunned down? Could he afford to show mercy? A lot of dangerous metahumans and other types here. Mercy might cost him....

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#18 Edited by The_Xsoteric (1176 posts) - - Show Bio


There was a sudden and disturbing clank, then another and another in rapid succession causing the LeBeau Legacy to trace his gloved finger across his metallic face-plate. A quick glance at the now crimson stained finger caused an immediate shift in attention upwards as the heavens had seemingly opened up to release a torrential downpour of blood. Clearly the unfolding scene in Gothic had begun to usher in some of the World's more powerful entities. The why and hows were inconsequential, as their unexpected interventions would no doubt signify the premier of the World's more equally powered paragons.

No Caption Provided

Simultaneously while mentally mapping out a variety of versatile probabilities and foreseeable analytical possibilities, Charlemagne felt a slight tingle resonating from deep within his own sub-conscious. An indication that his tentative ally, Darkchild, was attempting to establish a telepathic link. Charlemagne listened but rebelliously opted to remain mute. Partially for the pure sanctification of obnoxiously dismissing the mutant, for more notably out of his own obsessive observations pertaining to his stratagem. He needed a clear and precise mind in order to execute a pre-estbalished ballet of photo-graphically memorized muscle orchestration. Every maneuver had been planned, practiced, and visualized and there could be no undocumented distractions. So with a deep breath and rolled shoulders, the infamous Full Metal-Militant dashed towards his target. Not the Asylum itself mind you, but rather the fortified armory resting adjacent to the Southern wing's guard tower.

In a stunning cinematic display the LeBeau Legacy spun, somersaulted, flipped, dove, and slid in and around the patrolling officers. Striking with unfathomable precision. Targeting t vital pressure points and joints in a blitzkrieg of chaotic harmony, systematically destroying every physical opposition before they knew what had hit them. Before finally achieving stage one of his ultimate scheme.

Minutes later.....

No Caption Provided

"What the FCK!!!!!!!!!!! LOOK OUT!!!!"roared an officer as he frantically attempted to heroically warn his fellow officers along the outer barricade leading towards the Bedlam Asylum entrance. Barely diving to safety as several squad cars were unceremoniously flattered by one of their own state of the art riot vehicles, now under the unmidigated control of perhaps the Worlds most deadliest assassin.

:WEAPONS ACTIVATED:The robotic voice of the vehicles computerized AI was like music to the Killer of Knightfall's ears. "Fire." A sadistic smirk raced across the mad mutant hater's face under the concealment of his mask as two military grade rockets were launched, effortlessly destroying the re-enforced wall surrounding Bedlam.

Infrared electromagnetic illumination began to identify the varying parties scrambling and fighting within the asylum. Charlemagne would have use for some, but later. For now he's main priority was establishing a strong and unbreakable presence inside the facility.

"Darkchild" he thought. "I'm in......release your pets......"

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#19 Edited by CYNBEL (18 posts) - - Show Bio

Unger Carlisle, second in command to a gang of thugs known as The Denizens. It doesn't surprise me that you've landed yourself in this shithole. You've always crossed too many lines, you and you're pathetic pack of rats. But they've all burned. All but you and Denizen Rourke. You'll pay for what you took from me. And when I've watched the life slip away from your eyes, I'll still keep going. I am going to fucking crucify you. There is no one left to help you now.

I just hope none of the other inmates have got to you first...

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#21 Posted by The Hunter (7945 posts) - - Show Bio

Greystoke Industries - New York

Amidst the rustic and rural hunting motif of the executive office, William Greystoke sat with a glass of twenty-year-old scotch and monitored the screens in front of him. He watched news footage of the chaos unfolding at Bedlam on one screen, while reviewing schematics and blue prints of the building itself on others.

"It makes sense that they would be located somewhere in here." one of his associates said, pointing to a portion of the building's schematics.

"Nevertheless," Greystoke replied. "We follow their scents once inside..." Standing up from his chair, he turned to address those standing before him. "The plan is simple," he said. "We go in, find our kin, and put down any who stand in our path... Extraction will take place precisely two hours after the drop." Before dismissing, William paused and said, "I have fought with one of you for centuries... others, decades... and some for only a few years since you became immortal... I need not remind you of our purpose: to find our kin and extract them safely - not to save others... Do not diverge from said task, and let no one see your faces..."

With that, the meeting was dismissed and the immortals geared up for battle. As his office was cleared, the monitor consoles descended into the floor and disappeared from plain view. Walking over to the fireplace, William unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie before placing his palm upon a reader. At that moment, the room itself began to change.

As the windows were shut and covered over, the fireplace turned to reveal a large wall covered in various weapons. The floor opened up and weapons consoles rose up. Finally, one last section of the floor opened up and the Hunter's mantle rose up out of the ground. Dawning it, he made sure the cloaking device was fully charged and functional. After that, he went over the weapons cache and armed himself.

Because most of the conflict would take place in close-quarter conditions, he chose his ranged weapons carefully. For its reliability, he chose a short-barreled Saiga 12 and packed magazines containing slugs and buckshot. As a sidearm, he packed a modified 1911 45ACP with hollow-point rounds.

For bladed weapons, the Hunter chose a retractable blade on his right forearm and a sturdy boot knife for backup. Alongside the compact Saiga 12 on his back, he strapped a short sword with a slightly curved blade - sturdy, easy to maneuver, and razor sharp. With his 1911 strapped to his right hip, he strapped a large hunting knife to his left - easy to wield in combat, sturdy, and able to be used as a tool with its curved edge and serrated back.

Finally, William dawned the a helmet which concealed his face from the world. Audible modifiers disguised his voice while the inside served as an interface with thermal imagery and a link to his own personal database. All of this was contained in a sleek design of the Hunter's own making.

At last, he made his way to the roof of Greystoke Industries alongside his ten companions - all armed to the teeth. High above, a light could be seen through the clouds as a jet began to make its descent. "Take your positions..." the Lord of the Lycans ordered. As the jet came closer, each immortal took his position as a long cable extended down from the jet. On queue, the immortals all jumped in synchronized formation and grabbed onto the cable as it passed above...

Gothic City

A few hours later, the jet was nearing the drop zone. As the large door to the cargo hold opened up, the Hunter walked to the edge and looked down below. Among all the city lights below, the contrast of flames in the night sky clearly marked Bedlam Asylum. "You all know what to do..." Greystoke said. "Stay on task. Kill any who offer resistance. Let know one see your face... and bring our kin home..."

With that, the Hunter dove head first out of the circling jet, followed by his accompaniment. Like a bullet, his immortal form sped through the air towards the ground below. At precisely the right moment, William twisted his body and flipped forward. He then landed upright in a crouched position - his body creating a small crater as he hit the pavement below. Shortly thereafter, his immortals landed behind him.

Recently, it had come to Greystoke's attention that Bedlam Asylum had acquired a small number of his kin - lycans who were taken against their will to be experimented on. Furthermore, intelligence revealed that Bedlam was even trying to replicate the lycan gene - creating their own brand of immortal. It had to be stopped, the research had to be destroyed, and the lycans being held against their will needed to be liberated. As far as William was concerned, the rest of the world could burn.

Rising up from the dust, the Greystoke Legend and his small band of immortals made their way into the shadows and headed towards the sounds of chaos... towards Bedlam Asylum...

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#22 Posted by Lady_Liberty (10767 posts) - - Show Bio

Born Again

The sound guy clipped a wireless microphone to the inside of my jacket collar. He was all business. I stared straight ahead.

Camera men hustled, muttering about angles and lighting. The general bustle of set operators filled the room with a soft hum. Even the industrial air-conditioning couldn't save us from sweltering in the body heat.

My suit was deep navy blue, my blouse pearl white. Gold cuff-links. The line of metals on my chest glittered in the harsh studio lights. I'm six feet tall, my heels make me six two. I looked into the mirror at my left; I was as young and beautiful as I was forty years ago. Didn't age a day, I thought with a smile.

There was a big red timer on the wall. When it hit two minutes producers shooed me through the door, snapping last minute comments on demographics and commercial breaks. I walked down a dimly lit hallway and into the studio proper. Kelly Megyn sits behind a curving hardwood table. She stands and shakes my hand. "Pleased to meet you Kelly." she says.

"Likewise Kelly." In the moment the absurdity seemed terribly amusing. We both chuckled.

I set. In the moments before we went on the air I mentally reviewed my talking points and double checked my posture. Kelly gave me a thumbs up and a big smile.

The countdown ticked down to zero. We were live. My heartbeat ticked up a notch.

Kelly was straight to business. "Hello, and welcome to the Kelly Files. As many of you know there has been a breakout of so called 'super criminals' from Gothic's Bedlam Asylum. Now I'd like to turn to my special guest, Kelly Coltaine also known as 'Lady Liberty', for her thoughts."

The camera cut to me. I didn't smile; it wouldn't do to appear jovial. "Ms Coltaine you have been involved in the metahuman community for many years and you were an early enforcer of the Registration Act. Do you feel the current administrations failure to aggressively prosecute violators has contributed to this atmosphere of violent lawlessness?"

"No, I do not." I paused for a moment, allowing my answer to sink in. A flicker of confusion appeared in Megyn's eyes. Got your attention now, I thought, suppressing a grin as I passed on the softball. "As you have pointed out I was an enforcer of the Act in its early days and my first hand experience showed me that you cannot regulate your way out of problems."

I saw understanding and intrigue bloom in her eyes and I kept going. "Just as you cannot regulate away gun crime or economic downturns you cannot solve the metahuman problem simply by adding red tape. NSA surveillance did not stop terrorism any more than the Brady Act emptied our prisons. More laws are not the answer."

"Then how would you respond to the violence in Gothic? Specifically the Bedlam breakout?"

"There is no question that metahuman violence is one of the great challenges of our generation. To address it we need to remember the lessons of previous generations. Its important we use the tools of our criminal justice system, which remains the best system in the world, to punish metahuman criminals appropriately. We cannot allow savages to ravage our civilization and only slap them on the wrist. And it is clear to me that Bedlam Asylum is a slap on the wrist. Quite frankly many of those who escaped did not belong in an Asylum they belonged on death row." That was my sound bite. It played well over scenes of burning Gothic streets all night.

We cut to commercial. My time was done and I stood, thanked Megyn for her time and walked out the way I came. Steve King stopped on my way out the lobby and shook my hand.

"Nice segment. Listen, I'm having a barbecue next week. Family and a few friends you might like to meet. Why don't you drop on by Iowa and let me pick your brain on immigration?" He grined like a shark. "You never know, I might like what you've got to say."

"Representative, it would be my pleasure."

I smile back.

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#23 Posted by DarkKnightwing (294 posts) - - Show Bio

KnightWing had spent the last day or so creeping around in the shadows of the hell hat some idiot had called an asylum. Once or twice he thought he saw some fighting, but the noises were quick and quiet. His priority was to find the instigator of the breakout, but he had mostly confined himself to the meta wing. The people here had been the first to leave, and was the most logical to occupy first. Soon, his first bit of action came along."Hello? Anyone left in here? In case you hadn't noticed, were leaving. I plan to for a nice round of ki-" His sentence was cut short. So was his neck. An hour later, KnightWing returned carrying a crate full of tech and guns. Another hour later, the solid steel door to the meta wing had a sign. It read: If you're in here to help, welcome. If you are in here for money, do your work but don't kill anyone unnecessarily. If you are a murderous psychopath, prepare for death. He knew he was inviting the crazies to come and kill him, but he had a plan. He always had a plan.

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#24 Posted by Warsman (5413 posts) - - Show Bio

No Caption Provided

The first drop.

That's all it takes.

This ugly day, dark and foreboding, the smoke already rising.

This ugly day, filled with ugly people.

It is all beautiful now.

Covered in red.

The red rain, rain of flesh and blood.

The sky, a lacerated sore oozing sanguine sanctuary to a vicious soul.

The harbors are overflowing with a pinkish foam. He is watching the artwork unfold before his eyes, every street overflowing with inches upon inches of sickening blackening gore. His hair is slick with it. Everyone is drenched by it. The gang wars were famous for causing bloodshed in the city, but even the hardened veterans of the guerrilla street battles were taken aback by the sight. To them, and to everyone, the apocalypse had come. Jesus had already come. God chose his holy few and abandoned the rest to seven years of darkness. This was the first of many plagues.

The plague of death.


I laugh. That is all I can do. I laugh, and the city quakes. I can hear it pulsating now. Every fiber of its construction quivering. Every inch of cement flesh and steel bone as nothing to what I bring to the new genocide. It would be a simple thing to do, to lift up all those drenched in blood and pop them, one by one, until nothing is left alive. It is what I want to do. It is what I feel I must do, I have that sensation in my very soul. But I have...allies in this metropolis. I suppose they are allies. They are humans and metahumans who sought my allegiance. They promised more carnage for my palette. They were right, and so I trust them.

For now.

I begin with the slums. A bit of junk food as an appetizer.

Thousands are swarming in a panic. The storm of blood came upon them quicker than they could evacuate. It is San Betral all over again, but I've had practice since then. I can kill them all in a gesture, and I so desperately want to for the pure satisfaction of hearing that all-too-orgasmic crinkle of bodies crumpling like wrapping paper. But crinkle it too quickly or too much, and you tear it. You ruin the subtle chill crawling up and down your spine. You have to move on.

But I don't want to do that.

I want to make this just as much of a masterpiece as when San Betral bled into the Pacific Ocean.

I start by inflicting Fleshcrawl on those I see. Those in the streets. Those already screaming. I decide to take a stroll through the lanes of Gothic City. My feet splash through puddles and small streams of blood. The gutters have already scabbed over. The city is drowning. I cut open its femoral artery, and it is dying, the untamed chill of a wild winter river freezing and locking the meat, biting down to the marrow. The popping of this midday dream is mirrored in the hundreds of thousands I have already touched with Fleshcrawl. Their flesh is bubbling out from underneath their skin. Eyeballs melting. Guts oozing out of fresh wounds. It is the image of true terror. The terror of inevitability.

Death is fast-forwarded for all to see. Death is there. It is real. And it is coming closer. I find those who try to run the most entertaining to kill. It is the idea of blind panic, running away from something and trying with all the might in their tired limbs to find sanctuary. But the angels have already sounded their trumpets. Those who would be saved are gone.

Those left behind are damned.

Those left behind are entitled to me.

To those who want to win Gothic...

Come and fight me.

You're all going to die tonight.

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#25 Edited by Ginju (393 posts) - - Show Bio

Breakout-The Hole

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His hands constricted and strapped behind him, Ginju can do nothing until released. Wishing he could at least touch his fingers together to alter his own molecular structure he watches the door in front of him. Screaming and yelling outside the Hole, he wished he could see anything to show him what was going on outside. Groaning loudly he moves around putting an ear to the door and listening. Nothing concrete was heard but a single voice saying "Come on...hes alone and cant move his damn hands. He maybe a complete nutjob but hes one of us at least." Followed by a loud "Stand back!!" Moving fast to the back of his small hole in the wall the door was blasted and he moved an inch to see the door slam into where he once was, revealing an inmate who came in and grabbed Ginju by the front of his jacket. Slicing quickly with a serrated hand he cut the straps of his jacket, allowing Ginju to move freely.

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He looked to the only other inmate in the area, he was glaring at him. Ginju spoke a deep and gravely voice and asked "Something the matter?" The inmate who saved him stepped back slightly as the other came up and almost pressed his nose up against Ginju's . Deeper than Ginju his voice boomed, and the walls shook as he quickly slammed a fist into Ginju's chest sending him back into the hole. The large man walked in slowly and spit on Ginju "You and your team of bastards...you killed my village." Ginju quickly moved before he could finish his sentence and had a finger against his temple.

The man slowly began to tremble as his insides were slowly turning "My people?! No you ingrate, I was never one of them. They paid me to level a village and I did, the reason your people were so easily taken down in Venezuela was they were not strong enough. " Pressing slightly his finger dug in deep and blood trickled down from the hole he was creating, brain matter slowly trickled along with the blood as the mans body began to flail and levitate as Ginju lifted him into the air with one finger. Slamming him hard into the wall of the hole, he left him hanging there for a moment and looked to the man who freed him sideways. "Leave..." The inmate did as he was told and ran like his life depended on it. Slowly Ginju began to turn the mans very blood into lead, he started to convulse and flail as his insides were turning into pure lead. Soon as he pulled his finger from the mans head lead began to flow from all the open holes in his body, even the week old battle scars were dripping with lead.

Walking away he made it a few feet before he heard the voices of five inidivuals, one was a woman and another was that of an older man. @mr_alchemy_@timesiphon

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#26 Edited by Lock_N_Stock (42 posts) - - Show Bio


Lock had entertained the idea of himself needing to be taken by jet, but in all truth he could of simply rode the mechanical lines of the telephone poles and made it to the Asylum faster. But he wanted to make his new teammates and subsequent allies think he was truly as human as they were, he wanted to blend in as much as he could. So adorning a new look he waited and listened to his new leader, he moved and waited to the back of the jet as it opened. "Self doesn't think it should be a problem, self can do it in ones sleep...if self slept at all."

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As the doors opened his body began to glow bright blue, shining off the red and silver armor he had transformed his body into. He looked human in the light, it was a bio-luminescent that he gave off once he hitched into the power grid, soon the entire area's system of security would be under his control. He had realized sometime ago that his constant exposure to these meta humans, had given his body its own real meta human power. Using the electricity of the security system his body could heal itself without using the metal around him. Turning around and looking at Michael Lock smiled, snapping his fingers in a "Voila" manner he pointed and spoke "Self has taken care of the systems, all we need now is to....wait a minute..."
He sensed the bio signature of three inmates, there signatures were there and then disappeared. One disappeared entirely and slowly, while another had moved to another location. The final signature had simply stopped moving "Found target..." Pointing he knew his team would head in quickly and hoped that they would achieve victory quick and easily/

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#27 Posted by TimeSiphon (1138 posts) - - Show Bio



Raeyn kept walking even as she fired her bow and sent an arrow through the right eye socket of one of the crazies that had been unleashed in the area. She continued down the corridor to Ginju's reported cell as the point woman of their team. She listened intently, but found her hearing wasn't quite as sharp as her previous body. Irritating that. She paused after a moment, just at the corner, out of line of sight of Ginju and unaware that he had escaped. She couldn't put her finger on why she had stopped and carefully put another armor piercing arrow to her bow string. Do I get bad feelings now? Hm. She took a breath and stepped around the corner.

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#28 Posted by Reaver_ (280 posts) - - Show Bio

@lock_n_stock: @ginju: @timesiphon: @mr_alchemy_:

Dreya spent the meeting and trip doing her best to memorize the layout of the asylum. The more she knew on the building the better, and thus the more useful she thought she'd be. Her studies were meticulous seeking to know every corridor to the very light fixtures. "If your going to give me a pet name sir just go with Wednesday." Referring of course to the daughter of the macabre family.

On arrival Reaver's scythe materialized in her hand. The extensive reach allowed her to block oncoming projectiles. An anxious twitch lingered in her free hand the fifteen year old far more hungry to kill then she let on. "Nicely done by the way Selfy stay safe." Her voice carrying over the comm system with complements.

"Ginju please do yourself a favor and surrender yourself over it'll be far quicker and less painful." The youth remarked hoping for quick resolution. Her following remark was more a faint self contained mumble "that and I can't keep it in line." Her restless and violent half virtually clawed at her the chaos of the prison made control difficult.

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#29 Posted by TimeSiphon (1138 posts) - - Show Bio


Time Siphon kept her eyes steadily on Ginju while the young woman spoke. Her bow string was at full strain but anyone with an eye for technology at all would have been able to realize that her armor put far more weaponry at her disposal that could probably do significantly more damage.

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#30 Edited by Omega-One (218 posts) - - Show Bio


Locating his confiscated weaponry and armor would prove difficult, more so now that a bounty hunter of some sort was in hot pursuit. Without the knowledge that an expert tracker roamed after him as well as other asylum inmates, Bastian went about his search yet never did so without exercising caution. He was after all technically an inmate, wrongfully imprisoned but still one nonetheless. With his physical condition far from stellar, and his ability to harness the full strength of his quantum tech implants dependent on his overall fitness, Bastian's offensive prowess was waning. While the armor and firearm he stole from a guard was usable, it was still fairly primitive.

He needed it only until he found his equipment. Traversing the hallways with the same confidence and sense of duty that dripped from the footsteps of the other guards, Bastian met the encompassing gazes of random inmates with indifference, and the guards' glances with nods of acknowledgement. As he walked all about, in circles it seemed, the German's ears finally caught wind of some whispered rumors from gossiping guards. Rumors that indicated that a large number of high tech equipment belonging to one of the inmates was being held in Storage Room 4. Certain that that was where he and his equipment would finally reunite, Bastian resumed his search, his eyes scanning for any door labeled 'Storage Room 4'.

Still unaware of the bounty hunter that sought to capture or kill him, the German continued, eventually halting both feet before Storage Room 4. Setting foot inside, in the span of a minute, the Black Baron's Mars Armor comfortably hugged his frame and began to regulate his lactic acid, corticosteroid, and dopamine levels to counteract the production of fatigue toxins and lessen his stress, all the while aggrandizing his adrenaline, tricyclic, and gamma-Aminobutyric acid levels. Reunited with his equipment, Bastian's only objective now was to escape. Forcing his way through like a freight train would attract too much attention. Caution was key. And so, he moved stealthily, with no knowledge that a potential confrontation may be on the horizon.

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#31 Edited by Honor Avenger (1974 posts) - - Show Bio

With a sadistic smile the Gothic City Horror watched her former cell neighbor, formerly only the masked manic, and how he sent her an obscene gesture. Crimson footsteps marked his way into a brighter, bloodier future.

By now the whole asylum had transformed into a microcosm of war. Inmate versus warden, convict versus inmate, lunatic versus police, maniacs versus black ops, black ops versus wardens and the vicious cycle continued. Together they created a typhoon of violence that painted the venerable building red. Bloody handprints graced doors and walls, testament of how panicked victims had tried to escape their violent doom.

Like stepping stone corpses littered the way to finally fulfill the mandate of the strongest. Perfect. Her journey to freedom and greatness began here.

Almost tenderly she stroked the terminal, her instrument of liberation. Felt every little imprint on it, the survey of every key and the smooth texture of the plastic. One little sign of appreciation before she left this basement forever.

Out of accident she found something. A nice rectangular piece of technology. A MP3-Player. Looked as if one of the guards had forgotten it right next to the monitor that showed so much bloodshed now. The four plain letters of SONY on the display subtly reflected the dim light of the artificial lighting. Curiously what kind of person this device had belonged to she scrolled through the playlist. Neil Young, Gary Moore, Don McLean, Bob Dylan, Neil Diamond, the almost generic names of American songwriters followed on one another till… Oh no, this was just too perfect to be true.

A few handles and the music echoed out of the speakers while she walked down the hallway.

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Her steps acquired a near dancing quality, so high-spirited was she. Right, right, left, right, left, right, right, left, right left, right, right and ever so on, a simple country dance with her thumps tucked into the waistband of her white clinic pants. Whoever would have seen the feared Darwinist Dictator would have doubted his own sanity.

Dire Frost’s empty heat prison passed her by as well as Fatal Rose’s vacuum compartment and the musk-scented cage of Killizard that she had opened herself. But there was something that disturbed the rhythm. A constant, persistent beep-beep-beep that simply did not fit the melody. It came out of Atomic Sun’s cell.

Honor Avenger’s shadow was cast into the darkness that was only lit by the repetitive blinking lights of the medical apparatuses lying itself over the colossus of a man lying there linked to the metallic devils that kept him in a forced dreamless slumber.

He was the ultimate nightmare, the one thing that the authorities were afraid of more than anything else. A walking atomic bomb. So strong and yet so weak. Should she wake him or should she just put an end to his misery? One way or another, the annoying beep had to stop.

Kill or awaken. At this moment a god’s power lay in Jessica’s hands. The man possessed enough power to lay waste to the whole city. Given her credo there was only one option. One finger was enough to flip the switch.

And while The Creedance Clearwater Revival’s song about a Bad Moon Rising gave a fitting soundtrack to her way up an atomic sun slowly awakened in the basement.

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#32 Edited by Akira Overdrive (10214 posts) - - Show Bio

Akuma Rasshingu's roaring engine slowed to an idle as it approached the daunting and looming structure known as Bedlam Asylum , turning down a dark street to be stationed at an abandoned textile factory that would serve as Akira's entrance into the fray of crazed lunatics. Gothic City's industrial district was it's own dusty ghost town and provided the Young Yamato a perfect cover should he need to retreat back into the shadows from whence he came. " Senpai. Several para-military factions and self-ordained heroes have entered the facility in an attempt to quell the chaos of the situation, but I have designated a route that shall enable you to bypass the clutter of bodies and maniacs. The textile factory was built over an extensive underground network of tunnels that should led you into the Asylum." Kimiko's smooth cybernetic voice hummed in Akira's ear as he dashed through the factory until he reached a massive hole that led into a dark abyss. Without hesitation or response to his AI the caped villain dropped down into the black and hit the wet cobblestone of the subterrenean pathways running for his destination as Kimiko navigated his every move by feeding him directions directly into his HUD. She continued her monouloge until he reached a dead end .

"Your targets exact locations have been pinpointed, though I suggest you proceed with caution. There are numerous vital readings that do not register as human and would be best to avoid until I can siphon more data from satellite memory banks." She continued while the adolescent shinobi stood in front of a massive fan that circulated air into the ventilation system for the Asylum. "After you clear this obstacle you'll be directly underneath the armory. Target 1 is there now."

Akira smugly reacted with a stern "No problem" before launching himself through the rapidly spinning blades of the fan, slowing them down with telekinesis just enough to where he could show his prowess by flipping through the metal blades with amazing agility and dexterity. He thought to himself that his small teen body was perfect for such an occasion and continued his swift pace up until he catapulted himself up and through a gate that led him into the lock-up with a graceful 360 spin mid-air followed by a silent landing. His HUD lit up with information as his iris made contact with the first person he had seen. " Ojo del diablo commonly referred to as the Cheshire Tiger. Admitted into the asylum for quite simply being a murdering maniac. A strong telepath with unstable behavior , constant homicidal tendencies , and a plethora of deadly skills.I could use someone like you. "

The Reckless Ronin made his self known as he approached the mohawk sporting psychopath with a devilish grin who was gathering as many weapons as he could, looking specifically for a serrated dagger he was famous for. The man spun around with murderous intent until he saw a small boy in costume then began to laugh violently at the absurdity of a kid knowing anything about him. "Cabron, what is such a little nino doing in a place like this? Don't you know that you could get killed? Or perhaps you have a death wish... which I would be happy to oblige . " A smile twisting up again while Ojo spoke.

Akira retorted with action as he found the knife that Ojo was looking for and telekinetically jammed into the floor in front of the Cheshire Tiger as a gesture of mutual understanding. He stared quietly for a second as he had Kimiko filter in and holographically display from a small high-powered projector disk detached from his utility belt, a video feed of the man's sessions with Dr.Greenfield along with the list of medications and restraints used for The Enlightened Psycho. Yamato was planning to persuade him into joining something much more sweeter then sedatives and padded cell blocks.

" I don't have all the time in the world to sit here and try to convince you of anything, but I can tell you this. I'm on a mission to secure an empire that will have you sitting pretty in a room full of whatever vices you choose. And as a gesture of good faith I have some of these for you." Akira made his own evil show of teeth as he held up a transparent vial of several purple and blue gel capsules. He was sure that if Ojo was anyone of any importance in the world of criminals and drug trade he had heard of the famous enhancing and extremely rare Power Capsules of Akira's design. The capsules had been cleared off the black market entirely after the UN cracked down on his former empire because of the amount of meta-humans increasing their power and indulging in the ultra-euphoric drug that the 14th Daimyo formulated. He tossed the pill bottle to Ojo and began to walk out of the armory to his next target while speaking over his shoulder to the Psychotic Villain once more.

" There is plenty more where that came from, and I can promise you one hell of a time." With that said Akira started a full sprint towards the red dot in his HUD that pinpointed the next objective, while hoping that he was convincing enough to have gained a new ally instead of just boosting the powers of a legitimate threat. The readings that Kimiko linked to his HUD stated that his next target was on the lower level basement which housed the higer-class metahumans and he cursed at the thought of having to deal with another psycho who might be unwilling to talk.

This sh*t better be worth it
This sh*t better be worth it

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#33 Edited by _Creed_ (5278 posts) - - Show Bio

Manhattan, moments before the Breakout occurs.

The phone begins buzzing atop the fine glass night stand, a specific rhythm for each client. Those three bursts over and over again, Gothic's mayor. This wouldn't be annoying, if Creed wasn't bedding this week's hottest magazine face before the next one showed up at one of his parties. He didn't stop, only groaning annoyingly among ones of pleasure, grabbing the phone and tapping to answer.

"Creed." She stops for a second, somewhat offended, but Creed raised his black brow and gestured her to keep going. "Yeah I know the one, with all the super freaks right?...Oh for f*cks sake. Can't anyone in that backwards town do anything right? I'll be there in a bit, Lori will be contacting you about my usual payment demands..." Creed hung up, glancing up at the woman with a rather bored face. "Lady I have no idea how you made it to where you are if you can't even get a guy off...You know where the door is." The cleaner ever so gently pushed her off and got out from the silk sheets, grabbing his half finished brandy and arranging that mistake in a single gulp. It was time to suit up and get to work.

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Creed's butler, Clay, walked into the dressing room with a pre packed bag. He was an older man, in his fifties, built like an ox from military service. "Master Creed I have ensured your Gothic bag is up to date, given their..Increased risk between your visits." Creed didn't bother to glance at his servant, picking some lint off of his lapel and flicking it behind him. "Good work Clay, maybe I'll throw you a bone. Have this place prepared for the next bash, that is if you don't like getting paid. And I swear if I see that tart at the next one I will throw you off of the balcony...Later."

He grabbed his bag, straightened his tie and made his way to chauffeur. The only thing on his mind was what decadent cocktail he'll serve himself on the jet.

Gothic city, presently.

"We now go live to Mr.Mayor's chosen representative on the alleged "Bedlam Breakout" crisis." The deeply voiced anchorman announces before the screen switches to Creed standing in front of a press conference. "Ladies and gentlemen, our beloved town has seen many dire situations in the past years. Metas running wild in our streets causing all sorts of chaos. Hell we have had humans alike doing the very same. Panic has become our status quo, as much as it aches me to say that." Creed lied through his teeth, acting as if he cared, topped off with a humble hand placed on his chest.

"With this unsettling truth faced, you can now see how easy it is to scare us, to make us sweat. A small fight breaks out in an asylum for the ill and suddenly we are all up in arms? I assure you what you have heard, what has been said is but a exaggeration. Clearly forces are at work here to push this city into more panic, will you let yourselves be bullied? I personally would like to think not. The Bedlam Breakout is nothing more than a Bedlam Mishap...Thank you for your time, sleep easy folks."

Creed gave that award winning grin of his before stepping off the stage and into the back. His expression went to cynical in an instant, Lori already awaiting him with a brandy in hand. She was whisky in a tea cup, all business in the outfit but the personalty of a vixen. "Lori, a sight for sore eyes, and dry lips." He grabbed the brandy and took a gulp, continuing to walk, Lori following. "Give me a status angel." He asked, pulling out his phone to check as well.

Going through her data pad, she cleared her throat. "Twitter, Facebook and YouTubeis being taken care of, that virus is chewing away anything with the word Bedlam in it. Eye witnesses have been detained, bribed or thrown into the drunk tank for some more violent persuasion. Cops have blocked off as many ways to get to the asylum as possible. Air traffic has been closed off within helicopter range, no press there. All in all..." Creed looked at her with a smirk, finishing his drink, and her sentence. "Like an explosion in a bottle. Now we wait for that whole mess to finally be done with, then we can move in and see the damage. I'm guessing that witch bitch of a director there isn't going to be an easy sell...Until then though..."

Creed reached for her behind, giving it a playful squeeze. "I'd say we earned ourselves a few bottles of Jack and a hotel bed for a couple of hours..." Lori's ruby red lips curled at the idea, wrapping her arms around his suited shoulders. "Why Mr.Creed, that's the best idea you had all night..."

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#34 Posted by DarkKnightwing (294 posts) - - Show Bio

@honor_avenger: "Crap. Three times crap." KnightWing had only heard of that particular energy signature. Atomic Sun was loose and only one person could have freed him. No one had approached him yet, but he couldn't afford to wait. He moved silently into the restricted area of the prison. He saw a blinding glow, a yawn that could have made a bengal tiger soil its proverbial pants. He tapped a little on his tablet and activated the internal security systems. Deadly poisonous and a couple of rounds from a minigun wouldn't stop them, but it would slow them down. He ran as quickly as he could to his base and picked up a gun that looked like it belonged in a science fiction novel and raced back. He crouched behind the two psychopaths and prepared to fire.

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#35 Posted by Clara Mass (8758 posts) - - Show Bio

Her appearance was never once the same. Always shifting so that it could meet the standards of beauty set up by society. However, every once in a blue there was a change in pace, a reason to settle, a reason to be herself......even if momentarily.

"If I'm being honest, I'm actually kind of happy. It's weird saying it out loud, but I am. I'm happy."In the spacious, decaying greenery of Pennsylvania's Allegheny National Forest, Miss Pierce uncharacteristically walked on top of the farewell to fall ground with an almost casual composure as she lightly conversed with her twin brother, Eden Pierce.

"I'm the leader of an entire nation. So, the people look to me for support and it's fantastic, but I fear they might not need me one day. It's selfish, I know." Unbeknownst to just about everyone, Miss Pierce did have a family. Although consciously left out of public records, considering the bloodbath that was their parents' deaths, the billionaire baroness withheld an unusually strong sense of loyalty and possessiveness over her other half.

"It's just that for once in my life.....I matter. I'm important and I can't.....I won't let that go. " In a few short moments she halted their unobserved journey through the woods, tugging at his forearm as her naturally mutated violet eyes widened as if an unidentified danger had crept behind their off the books trek.

"Clarice, I don't think you're okay. You're messed up. You've seen too much. You've gone too far. I'm right, aren't I?" Eden softly inquired, his silvery voice calming her nerves as he brushed her shoulder with his loose hand. He was right, albeit reluctantly, and it's his ability to pinpoint her pains that immediately reminded her the reasoning as to why she only visited him a few times a year.

"I've let this go on for way too long. You've lost your sense of reality." The man wearing outdated cowboy boots and a flannel shirt tried telling her about reality. The man who their daddy nearly killed for being himself was trying to tell her about being okay. In a matter of milliseconds the plain Jane's appearance gradually changed into the alluring paradigm that gave them both the lives they had always desired.

"Sweetheart, the only reason your reality still stands is cause I keep it upright. So, without me there'd be no Eden. I want you to remember that next time you step out of line." A part of her found the irony in her words absolutely amusing. Nevertheless, her honeyed words fell into comparison to the telepathic feed that she received a few short moments ago.

"Take care, sweetheart. I'll be back as soon as I can." Miss Pierce offhandedly remarked as she relinquished her grip on his forearm, her mouth watering at the opportunity that had been transmitted into her mind by the grace of fate.

"@akira_overdrive, I have plan for you sweety. I need you to keep your mind focused on your current location and make sure you're alone. No interference, intruders, whatever. I need to get there in one piece. So, get somewhere safe and stay safe. Please." Oddly placing a large amount of trust into a virtual stranger, Miss Pierce prepped herself for fast travel, her thoughts solely place on the opportunistic value of this sudden venture.

"I've got a plan to pitch and I think you'll like it." She teasingly whispered into the wind, sending her honey suckle sayings across the threads of reality so that they could blanket her small man with a blissful comfort. Afterwards, she briefly looked back at the disheveled Eden before ---

--- teleporting to Gothic City, hoping to appear before the teen aged assassin like a goddess among men.

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#36 Edited by Maverick_6 (10434 posts) - - Show Bio

Deep within the bowels of Bedlam, the Paramilitary Team of Maverick Forces, Epsilon-Two, was tearing their way through the Asylum's humans and metahumans with brutal efficiency. Leaving behind bullet riddled bodies, trails of blood, absent heads from those with healing factors and many people with abnormal strength put through walls. There was one particular innmate who has hindering their radio-telepathic devices. One by the name of emperor processor, who had eyes everywhere within the asylum that there was a camera. Emperor processor was aware of this, and he could however see their approach. He opened the doors to one of Bedlams bottom floor armories easily as he rallied allies to have him combat this Special Operations team. Of course Maverick knocked anyway. Knowing very well this was a trap.

*BOOM*The reinforced door at least as thick as a bank vault door was blown open. The explosion of the nanothermite tearing through the door as if was made of butter. Moments after, 505 pounds of "peak human" gene engineered muscle with 303 lbs of armor and equipment walked through the smoke.

"Knock knock...."

The casual manner in which the 7 ft 9 Genetically Engineered giant said that, and imposingly strolled into the room alarmed the men. But fear didn't make the men cower, it made them fire. These were after all just a group of soldiers right? Soldiers who got torn through in droves against metahumans and thugs. You never saw soldiers dare come into Gothic.

However, it became alarming clear that this was not just some oversized mook. As the bullets bounced off him, it became clear that this man was a walking tank. The bulletproof behemoth walked through the haze of lead. He could feel the bullets, but their small arms weren't comparable to pebbles. At least pebbles hurt like hell. And enough pebbles to the head could kill someone. No these small arms that bounced harmlessly off Pax's armor were like being poked. Annoying. Assault rifles were pokes, and pistols may as well have been shooting nerf darts against Pax's CNT reinforced armored. They aimed for the joints, the crotch. The eyes. They failed to even mar the visor of his helmet.

Pax raised his own gun, which was a 20mm recoiled dampened fully automatic cannon nicknamed "The Ryno." One could understand why, for when he unleashed it, Hit ripped through the targets he acquired on visor. No neat little holes. It hit a limb, the person lost that limb. The gun was blowing people minds, literally, as when the bullet connected with the head, it would disappear seemingly magically, into red mist. The gun didn't seem to have any concept of the word "cover" as the rounds would go through any material present in the room. Combined with Pax's visor that allowed him to use radiowaves, their numbers dwindled at rates most normal soldiers couldn't accomplish. At least 30 people died in twelve seconds.

Finally, Pax's optic were jammed by the emperor they sent out one of the more dangerous inmates, a pale woman by the name of Banshee.She breathed in as she let out sonic scream that threw Pax's aim off as he felt pain. He then saw something coming at him. A high Explosive RPG that hit him in the chest, and sent him flying back. As he slowly rose, he saw someone charging at him. When his vision cleared he could see it was the human monolith.Pax, underneath his helmet smiled.

"COME! COME TO PAX!!" He yelled as the monoloth tackled Pax with force picking up off the ground as the two disappear when Pax is smashed through a wall. Meanwhile. Within the room. Nobody notices the cloaked soldier on the ceiling placing a device on it.

No Caption Provided

With one twist, the device sends out corresponding "anti sound" waves. Being essentially projecting the sounds of the entire room and canceling it.

The entire room goes mute.

People look around confused by this dead silence. However, as people start dropping left and right, they realize almost every metahuman in the room got a bullet to the head. Emperor processor looks around confused and now afraid. To his horror some cloaked soldier who looked like something out of a predator movie slits Banshee's throat and stabs her through her cartoid arteries, crimson streaming from her mouth and she is tossed aside, lifeless moments later.

Sound now returns to the room.

The man raises his gun to try and fire at the M.S.C Operative. He gets one shot off on the trooper, which is unfortunately for him to deflected by the Operative's knife. The gun gets smacked out of his hand as he tries to make a run in vane. The operative grabs him, and the knife goes through his chest cavity before he utters another word, and then his throat is slit. The man falls to the floor curdling blood. "Target neutralized. Secondary objective complete." He says simply. More money for that kill. The man had vital information stored in his head and could blackmail a lot of people. Annoyance removed and now, the job is more profitable. They all return to speaking through cyber telepathy exclusively.

"Are you still engaging the Brass man Pax?"Moya asked with annoyance.. Pax didn't respond as he was engaging the living monolith. He was shorter than pax, but still tall and stronger than him. This did not prevent Pax from picking him up and throwing him into a concrete wall hard enough to dent it. Nor did it mean Pax's steel denting blows didn't harm the man. Still, the monolith pulled himself out of the wall and ran towards pack, tackling the behemoth.

The man tried to keep Pax down and ground and pound him MMA style. Sending a 50 ton blow toward Pax's head, which the genetic Jarhead dodges by tilting his head so that smashes the ground next to him. Pax pulls out a very large knife. "Get off." He stabs the man in the eye with it, causing him to recoil off Pax, yelling in pain. A yell of pain that echoes deep through Bedlam's bowels.

Pax picks up a 200 lb reinforced door and bashes the monolith with it three times. As he retaliates, Pax uses the door to redirect the man's momentum as he winds up and bashes him aside with it. Sending the man off to the side. Pax then walks picks up his Ryno Autocannon as the monolith is down Pax shoots him in the knee. The round tearing through his brass body to the monolith's shock and horror. The brass man then looks Pax straight in his visor as he then just mutters. "Do it....just...do it." Pax obliges, as his pulling the trigger point blank for predictable results.

As the Brass man's metal now inert body laid resting on the ground, Pax stared at it. He then hears a voice in his head. "Going soft on us Pax?"Moya asks probing his mind. "No. He asked to die. It confuses me."

"Man trapped in a metal body. He was human. Once. I suspect he just asked you to because he didn't see much point anymore. You could think of it as a favor. His family wouldn't want to see him like this. Now would they? Wife. Daughter..."Moya says, to see how Pax responds. "...Unnecessary details."Pax says simply.

The M.U.O super soldier in the room punches through a wall to reveal wiring as she Moya it to gain access to their network. Now able to see through all of Bedlam's cameras. Others were accessing the network, but as long as they weren't in the way, it was no problem to them. Then the music started playing. The 4 all review the camera's on their helmets to see one of the most deadly and underestimated inmates in Bedlam....dancing? (@honor_avenger)

"I know this song. Bad moon rising."The M.U.O comments. "The lyrics are comforting..."Moya comments sarcastically. "Oh sh**. I think she's...no...f***. She just flipped the switch. This b**** is waking him up! Mission just got a hell of a lot more complicated."The M.U.O says somewhat frantic now. "I like her."Pax says

Moya communicates with her team then instructs them. "Mm. A good distraction. Seems she knows what we're after. Oh look, soldier boy made it down there before us. (@darkknightwing) Well then...plan B. Rendez-vous location Alpha Make sure your suits are all Rad hardened. One breach and you will be contaminated. We may lose communication in the area if Rad levels become too high. Ready your ammunition."

M.U.O "Roger that."M.S.C "Roger"Pax "Ok. Boss lady."With that, they all move out out from their locations, all but Pax cloaking to evade unnecessary confrontation. Sooon they all appear on the lower floor, their entrance now loudly announced with the M.S.C runs at a reinforced door at 40 mph to garner momentum and kicking said door off it's hinges down the hall as the group makes it way down the halls now to deal with the radioactive menace as on their heads up display, a geiger counter appears.

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#37 Edited by Strigidae_23 (6388 posts) - - Show Bio

The Mutant Enclaves, Gothic City

No Caption Provided

"F*CKING MUTIES!" A bottle shattered one of the few unbroken storefronts in the mutant part of town. Most windows were already covered in sun baked plywood and profane graffiti. Flames cracked and paint curled in the bonfire that blazed inside a police interceptor. Blue plastic trash bags blue across the grey, cracked pavement, skittering over potholes and faded yellow lines.

A crowd of hundreds chanted anti-mutant slogans. 'Die freaks die' and 'Get the hell out' were favorites. The target of their aggression was one of the many mutant slums in Gothic City. Most mutants had already barricaded themselves in their homes. A few gathered at the end of the block, clutching scuffed shotguns and improvised clubs. The humans outnumbered them three hundred to one. But they didn't come any deeper than half a block.

At the end of the street stood Strigidae twenty three. Boots, greaves and gauntlets of matte black nano-carbon guarded her limbs. Segmented plate of the same matte black material wrapped around her torso. Ritual tattoos crawled across her muscular biceps and up her neck. The sacred kill-marks of the Strigidae Temple ran along the shaved sides of her undercut and her jet black ponytail lay tangled in the arrows that protruded from the quiver which ran up her armored back. A crimson cloak hung from her shoulders, curling and twisting like a ribbon of blood in the stale wind. Golden goggles covered her eyes and a black katana hung from the golden utility belt that wrapped about her trim waist. The twenty first century samurai.

Fifty feet of empty street lay in front of her, the human rioters stopping as if they pressed against an invisible forcefield. Ivana knew what it was. Fear. The Bedlam breakout had incited them to rage against the metahumans in their midst. Mutants. Aliens. Outsiders. Freaks. But they knew who Ivana was. They knew what a Strigidae was.

It almost held.

A brick sailed through the smoggy Gothic air toward Ivana's tattooed skull. She lifted her hand without looking, a lazy, casual motion. The brick thumped home into an armored grip. "Return to sender." She muttered and did just that; a snap of her arm and wrist and the red projectile flashed fifty six feet in an instant. On the third row of rioters a nose exploded in a red mist and an orbital snapped with a wet pop.

It was the straw that broke the camels back. Hundreds of humans roared as one and surged forward, a tidal wave of flesh and fury. Savagery filled their eyes.

Ivana killed sixteen in fifty two seconds. They broke. The back of the crowd was still coming. They trampled nine more before Ivana hammered into them. Twelve more died before the rest broke. The mutant never drew her sword.

She caught the slowest to flee and strangled him. Those too wounded to run she stomped to death.

When it was done she turned and walked back through the rag-tag group of mutants who stood guard at the end of the street. They watched her but said nothing. Ivana didn't say anything either.

The warrior looked out over the enclave. Most windows were boarded up. The businesses were long gone. The stench of burning trash was everywhere; the city didn't pick up garbage here. Some houses still had water.

Deep down a question gnawed at her; she was the greatest warrior alive and this is how her people lived? The first time she looked at an enemy she knew how to beat them. When she looked at burning cars, abandoned storefronts and hopeless faces she didn't have a clue. Ivana knew she could win the battles but she also knew she was losing the war. Amaranth was gone and she couldn't do it.

It felt like sh!t.

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#38 Posted by DarkKnightwing (294 posts) - - Show Bio

: KnightWing took the shot. It hit the freak square in the back, pushing him towards the far wall. The specially desinged gun had sapped some of Atomic Sun's energy, but KnightWing knew he would need help. Good thing he was about to get it.(@maverick_6).

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#39 Edited by Darkchild (42991 posts) - - Show Bio


Moving through the shadows like a lecher bound for violence he snuck through the shadows of the world, making every point to make contact with someone during the breakout. Just outswide the Walls of Jericho he would peak out and whisper words of discontent in those hearts who knew true violence. Almost like a magician he would disappear as soon as he had appeared, sowing discontent wherever he appeared. A wicked smile upon his face as he did so, Bedlam had been the ignition for all of the chaos, but the rage and anger in everyone that was always there beneath the surface.

As he moved slowly through the shadows and followed each person he wished, a single and small darkling popped out through the darkness and followed each. A law abiding citizen would randomly unleash the rage inside all because there devilish side took over, that was all because the little impish demon whispered sweet nothings inside there ears. Gen had become the proverbial boogyman within all the chaos, and with that came the mischievous nature. Standing alone in the shadows he whispered to @wearelegion"My friend, it is time. Unleash all manner of mayhem you wish because after tonight that is all this city will ever know..." His voice going deep as he spoke the final words "Unleash it all!!!"A wicked smile still etched across his white face. He had prepared a very menacing yet simply look for this occasion, he did not want everyone to know who he was, but he also wished for them to remember him. Remember the vile acts that "the Mask" performed on this night of chaos.

No Caption Provided

Appearing behind those with hope and sorrow in there hearts and pulling it from there bodies, he came upon a single woman huddled in dark ally. Kneeling before her he brought his finger up to his lips and whispered "Shhhhhh"Before holding up a single finger as he listened to the voice in his head, it was Charlemagne. The voice had followed a very loud explosion and an eruption of gunfire, he smiled as Charlemagne had given the signal. Albeit a very loud one, the attempt at being reclusive and silent was out the door so now Gen wished to have a little fun with his pets. From the darkness as he rose with hands out to his side came the demons of hell, his darklings and Parasyte infected humans and meta's. They numbered in the hundreds as they came screaming and laughing from the darkness, meta infected screamed taking on the billowing flow of inmates that flew out through the hole now in the wall that Charlemagne had made for them. Gen simply knelt down and held out a hand to the woman before him, she tentatively took it and smiled for the briefest of moments before darkness penetrated her very being. In a cloud of blood and shadows her skin erupted in thousands of tendrils and spikes. A pair of tendrils formed from where her eyes had been, wrapping around her body before tearing it in half down the middle. Splitting her in two each half being tossed to a darkling dog behind Gen, he turned and moved towards the now gaping hole in the walls. A long tendril tapped his temple and he spoke to Charlemagne telepathically "I have the ones we are searching for, just follow the directions I'm sending. I am going to keep the townsfolk entertained, I have done my part have I not? Leave the quelling of the perimeter to me and my little...pets."As he spoke the last few words a cadre of darklings converged on him, ranging from the small as a German Shepard to that of an Ogre sized darkling. Pointing to the inmates that now stood before him "Keep any that put up a real fight alive....eat the rest.."With that he charged creating a large and curved blade from darkness and began to cut a swath through the guards and inmates that now found him there target.

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#40 Edited by macmx288 (23 posts) - - Show Bio

Doo doo doo doo doodoodoo NEW FLASH! BEDLAM ASYLUM OUTBREAK BAD GUYS EVERY WHERE!!! Well not for long bitches! the report popped up on my phone as I was finishin work - good thing I was finishing as I can't afford to miss another months rent! I Read the message and immediately I was like holy shit-

THIS IS A JOB FOR BOUND HERO! BOUND HERO TO THE RESCUE! and various other corny ass quotes came to mind as I transformed into my super suit and like a bullet out of a gun LIGHT TRAVELLEDDDDD to the scene of the riots...

...what. A . Mess. Fuckin' bad guys everywhere! Nutjobs and whacko's came at me from every direction but they don't stand a chance as I cut through them like a hurricane! Sparks flew as my Time Sword tore through the rushing crowds and decimated all who were too STUPID to run. God I'm awesome.

It wasn't until I reached the lower levels of this shithole facility that a real challenge came my way...

- feel free anyone who is a villian to start a dialogue and take on my character or if anyone wants to team up feel free to do so :D

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#41 Edited by Ojo (410 posts) - - Show Bio

Smoothly moving his hand infront of his face, Ojo flawlessly intercepts the pill bottle. However, his intial reaction was a blank stare. For a good second he contemplated about the bottle. Was it truly the Young Yamato's (@akira_overdrive) famed drug? How could he even begin to trust the boy? But as his eyes focus off the bottle to the ground, they are introduced to the Knife. By itself completely invaluable, but to Ojo and his people it's price was absolutely immesurable. Switching into a kneeling position he moves to remove the wedged knife out of the floor and his twisted mindscape comes to a simple conclusion:

"It's not like you needed to trust anyone before to use them...Even your dear papá couldn't escape your clutches."

As a devious smile curling up along with the internal monologue, The Entrophic Prophet lifts himself back up. Fearlessly spilling two purple and blue pills into his palm, he does not hesitate again and swallows them. His head lifts upwards to stretch out his neck, he continues with slapping it's sides to make the swallowing process much easier. Ojo was an avid client of his own back in the day and while his system had the tasted almost every drug known to man, this was a literal trip into the unknown.

"Hello darkness my old friend...bwahahaha! Here we go, hermano."

True that. The euphoric surge of power which came to cloud his mind just moments later was like nothing he ever tried before. With every waking moment he felt stronger, faster...more eager. Maybe he underestimated the dosing, he could feel the reality slipping away from him. He came close to feeling something he liked to refer as 'the Drunken Haze', a state of 'ultimate don't-give-a-f*ckery'. However, due to the resistance he built up in his former days, the Enlightened Psycho has managed to get a hold of himself.

Ojo quickly tests out the effects of the Power Capsules. Most importantly, his clairvoyance...through mere contact with the floor he witnessed every being in the building. From the soldier-boys (@maverick_6), to the demonkin (@darkchild) to even the lone strider (@the_xsoteric). Through it took him a while to cope with the sheer amount of sensory information, he managed to pinpoint Akira.

Sticking out his tongue in contentment, he prepared to move out. Standing up to the sobriquet of 'The Cheshire Tiger', his stature begins to fade away ever so slowly as the Cheshire Cat tattoo on his arm emanates in purple and blue hues and in mere moments even the it disperses into the aether, leaving only his floating eyes and the same wicked grin. In fluid succesion they all close, thus he removes himself from the scene in a teleporting fashion. He would to the Young Yamato, maintaining his 'absence' and float just above to his right, until they arrive to the destination.

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#42 Posted by _Razor_ (680 posts) - - Show Bio

Roughly three months ago Scarlett Rayne Oren stepped foot once more into the capital of this 'great nation'. She'd been key to a few grand actions such as a breakout of the prison known as The Rock. She was the influence behind an attack on the Pentagon. While the Rock was a successful escape leading to enough escaped convicts to form a small militia the Pentagon was a failure. Efforts to distract forces were backed by stealthy incursion. With a steadfast army and rapid insurgence of heroes however the plan fell short. Upon Rayne's last arival in DC however she was informed of one of few nuclear mutants. Rayne had considered making use of Azrayne a Venezuela Elite who amongst the other Elite abilities was also in possession of nuclear firepower. However to play that card would take a more prolonged game. This Rising Sun individual would be much easier. Thus the panic in DC came to an abrupt close by two officers who she surrendered herself to.

Her trial was in secret no headlines made no tabloids sold. Rayne vanished off the face of the earth and nobody dared to ask. She was transfered to Bedlam which seemed the only other domain to house such a terrorist. Her cell was small no more then a closet deep down in the belly of the Asylum. IV's stuck to her body pumping her with the essentials to keep living and a daily onslaught of drugs and power dampening serum. They'd considered curing her at first but ultimantly ruled against it. Instead they sought to break her will make her nothing but an animal, then they could recondition her.

So she waited bound to a point that she seemed almost paralyzed. Her body feeling weak as she hung limply barely ever geting contact with anyone or anything. Prisons though were a defect of this generations pathetic morality. Yet to receive revolutionary change the nation put faith in a flawed system. Was only a matter of time before something went amiss.

Sure enough the moment came. Cell doors opened and containment systems powered down. Razor dropped to the floor and for awhile stayed there. The ability to heal slowly worked to pump the various drugs and toxins free. No body seemed to know she was there so no visitors came. Untill finally with a symphony of snikts metallic marrow protrusions lacerated her customized straight jacket gifting her once more with a chance to do what she did best. Slaughter for a destructive belief in a need for a revolution and the fall of present parliament.

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#43 Edited by Mr_Alchemy_ (101 posts) - - Show Bio

@lock_n_stock: @lock_n_stock: @reaver_: @ginju:

He looked over in the general direction that Ginju was in. Mr. Alchemy could feel and sense the oxygen going into Ginju's body and the carbon dioxide coming out. Alchemy knew of Ginju's powers and he wanted to know how strong he was and what made his power tick. "All right now kids let uncle Michael take over from here. I want to see what he is capable of. If he starts defeating me in combat, come and assist me".

The old man began to walk closer and closer to Ginju's general location. His philosophers stone began to glow. "Come on Ginju! Show me what you are made of!"

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#44 Posted by Closure (325 posts) - - Show Bio

It's always important to be the best version of yourself. I've come to realize that in order to do so I have to practice my skills whether they be natural or an acquired taste.

He's strict with every movement, keeping a consistent stroke with a concentrated stride. All the while his enchanting caramel eyes remained steady as his pulsating hands tightly clutched the bouncing ankles of his latest muse, keeping them apart as he held back a practiced grunt, which was specifically timed with the right amount of exaggeration to prove that he was every bit as involved with the altercation as his partner.

"I'm going to....oh yeah!" He's cordial by instinct, complimenting his volunteer whilst relinquishing his grip on reddened ankles.

"Thank you, kindly." Noah placed his knees on top of the bed, crawling across the exasperated plaything as a means of reaching the mirror that was strategically hanging above his maple wood bed frame.

"You can go now." He nonchalantly murmured as he comfortably sat on the stomach of his chosen partner.

"I have to get home. I have to cook dinner for my son." The Gothic Prince smiled an honest smile, winking as he fell onto his partner's side, folding his hands behind his back as he peered upward at the collage of pictures glued to the main bedroom ceiling.

Pictures of Kurt, Satomi, Troy, Clarice, Amaranth, Ivana, and many others connected only through his affinity for their company and his individualistic affection toward them. In a way he craved for respect, love from some, but most of all the pictures were his attempt at piecing together his life, because for all intents and purposes.....Noah still didn't have the closure he sought out. He still wasn't sure who he really was and certain nights through mornings he'd take a lover to this bedroom and practice the only exercise he was ever fantastic at, hoping beyond hope it'd unlock something noteworthy.

"F*CKING MUTIES!"Noah strangely awoke from his trance like state, this time without much effort, sprouting upward and finding his way to the nearest window, sweat slipping down his bare Olympic swimmer frame as he peered outward and witnessed the bloody yet seemingly artistic atrocity committed by a familiar face (@strigidae_23).

"That's no way to fix the political climate, Ivana." He murmured as he carelessly hopped over dead bodies with tightly tied True Flight Jordan's toward the proverbial femme fatale, he was unaware as to how he was clothed in black slim fit jeans, topped by an off white and blue stripped button up, but most of all he was unaware as to how he even got there.

Nonetheless, with his signature adamantium dagger in hand the bright eyed vigilante, albeit former, waved his weapon as a strange good evening as he adjusted his meticulously shaven comb over.

"Killing humans is only going to make our cause worse and I'm tired of losing. We need to do something that'll turn the news around." They hadn't conversed in some time , quite frankly he wasn't sure she remembered, sometimes he didn't even remember himself, but the time for outlandish bloodshed had run its' course and he hoped she understood that.

"Amaranth wouldn't want this. He would take change by the throat and make it swallow. So, tell me. What's happening? Ivana, I know this is sudden but I need you to tell me what you know and maybe we can do something about it, because I'm tired of seeing people die. I can't even wake up anymore without seeing red. Please, I'm tired of seeing her win." The mafia prince unintentionally referenced Clarice as he urged the strigidae on.

"Ivana." Noah muttered, losing his patience as he tried his earnest to do something remotely heroic.

"Talk to me." He urgently continued, but as he waited he became slightly amused by the lifeless bodies, cracking up a bit as he considered them to be a decoration for what appeared to be a traditional Gothic City purge that happened a few times a year.

"Talk...to....me." He covered his mouth, holding back a panicked laugh as he twirled his dagger in front of his face, distracting himself from this strange reality as he awaited to hear the voice of one of his childhood inspirations.

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#45 Edited by Warsman (5413 posts) - - Show Bio

All power demands sacrifice.

There are laws in the universe that cannot be broken.

A mortal man can ascend to tiers undreamed of, given the chance, soaring past godhood and attaining the root of the cosmos itself. He can embed his soul in the foundation of reality, tearing entire worlds apart at a moment's notice. He can envision the void ensorceling his throat. He can dream of a death beyond death, where the meaning of existence is futile and entirely pointless in the grand scheme of colliding universes and bleeding dimensions. He can find true love, and lose it, all in an instant, living his life to the point of true happiness and watch it decay into the pits of total despair, never to reach back out again and grasp eternal bliss.

He can watch himself die. He can watch others die. His immortal soul bound to the endless threads of time and space, bound to the mysterious void that all men fear.

These are the laws of the universe.

But all of it is futile without the proper payment. To owe those you indebted your fortitude and livelihood to is to insult those on a higher realm of thought and power. To continue to insult them is to invite destruction. That is why you continue to shed your mortal coils, and become something else entirely, something greater than those you fear. And then it becomes a moot point as to what you truly hide in your heart, for whoever sees it cannot do anything with that information. Relationships, concepts such as love and family, they are lost at a certain point. At that same junction, there is an understanding.

At that intersection of cosmic highways and interdimensional gateways leading to various visions of Hell, one can only truly comprehend that the universe itself is pointless. It is forever expanding outward, each angle racing against its neighbor for some nondescript purpose.

The universe, too, understands that all power requires sacrifice.

Therefore, in order to continue to possess enough energy to move, it must sacrifice all reason and compassion in its design. It is the single greatest mystery to those on Earth, and yet it is as simple a concept as humans killing each other for resources and territory. It is a fickle game, played for the express purpose of nothing in particular. It's just a game.

It's all just a game.

But, like in all great games, there is a moment at which the crucial ideas of strategy and persistence must be cast away for the natural instinct for survival and preservation.

A moment like this.
A moment like this.


I have laid the streets open and bare, bereft of life. Those fighting in and around the asylum will be...let's say, 'surprised' by the revelation of what has occurred here. It seemed so simple at first. A breakout of metahuman and other unique specimens of a noticeably unstable variety. In other words, nation-wide media coverage. The humans so enjoy their televisions, radios, and home computers. While many would be focused on the mutant uprisings and the potential for a major power imbalance in the world of the superhumans, a third major string would be struck. A chord that would resonate as loud as the riots, and as violent as the fighting at Bedlam.

With any luck, it would distract the world away from the harnessing of those destructive forces. The predator and the dark child (@darkchild)...they were connected, somehow. The instigator of the slaughter knew of the uncrowned king's motives to some degree. He predicted it purely by examination. Now came the crowning jewel of the impending apocalypse. Now came the opening of the Throne of War, heralded by the bloody massacre of well over a hundred thousand in Gothic City, for the predator knew better than to question the unbreakable laws of the universe.

The First Christian House in lower downtown bought many a fleeting sense of hope. Moments after its doors flung open for the last time, it only painted a scene much like the streets leading up to its front steps. How many men, women, and children were outright slaughtered could not be identified. The bodies, mangled and shredded, were cast in such disarray across the floor and walls that it seemed to be a room molded out of fresh meat rather than humble stone and wood.

At first, many would have questioned the predator's resolve as he admired his handiwork. Perhaps he couldn't tread on hallowed ground? He paused for a briefer second than anticipated, but dissolved these imaginary claims with an adamant footfall preceding another, each one taken in a patient and alluringly cruel stride. He did not smile, nor did he take any conceivable pride in his task. He simply did, and it happened, nothing more. Almost as if he took the butchery to the level of a tired job or occupation. Instead of finding satisfaction in the results, he tried to spy any imperfections or blemishes. When none of these could be found, he carried on without a glance back at what his hands wrought.

Within the swirling vortex of madness and endless pain, the predator looked up towards the heavenly circlet pinning itself to the image of a man nailed to an intersection pair of wooden planks. The details were stunning, in order to capture the moment of this man's death and preserve it for all time. The bags under his eyes meant he had been awake through the pain for many nights. He wound on his side would have been infected within hours. But the nails through his hands were the most poignant detail. They were symbolic of so many things, of imprisonment, of absolute bondage.

Of sacrifice.

Curiously, the predator started to tear up. His quivering lips indicated something akin to a maddening sense of grief.

Or at least, it would have, if he did not burst out laughing instead. He reached out his arms at a perfect angle to mock the iconography before him, and his hands started to bleed and dismember themselves at the palms. His ribcage exploded at a similar angle, and his scalp ruptured and wept sweet encarmine tears that trickled down his face - locked in a sadistic cackle.

A lightning-fast surge of red, and the effigy was made.

A time for all things must come to pass. Birth, death, love, and hate. These are unspoken laws. But, in order to bring about change, there must be displacement and rearrangement, otherwise everything stays the same and stagnates. This is true of the unbreakable law, that all power demands sacrifice, for how does one change something without power? And a byproduct of great change and upheaval is violence. Violence against that change. Violence against those who do not support that change. Violence that eventually erupts into more violence as more groups try to stop it from spreading, only to contribute to its rampage.

I am that violence.




"The dark child has awoken. The dark star has risen. The dark days have come."

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#46 Posted by The Hunter (7945 posts) - - Show Bio

Bedlam Asylum - Lower Levels

Walking down a dark and narrow corridor, the Hunter and his accompaniment came to a group of doors. Throughout the chaos which ensued above, the immortals passed through unnoticed and unscathed. There were moments when their help would have saved lives, yet Lord Greystoke was determined to remain focused on the task at hand.

Sniffing the air, William followed the scents left by his kin. Their scents were not fresh, but their lingering essence in that one place made it appear as if they had literally dissolved into the asylum itself.

After carefully examining each of the heavily armored doors, the Hunter stood in front of one in particular. Running the tips of his gloved fingers over the door, and brought his hand up to his nose to take in the scent through vents in his mask.

They were there... an immortal had placed their palm on the outside of the door and along the frame... They were fighting to keep from going inside whatever that room was...

Taking it all in, the Hunter grit his teeth as a low growl escaped his lips. "This one..." he said to the immortal holding the explosives. With that, the door's locking mechanism was rigged with C-4. In the blink of an eye, the locking mechanism was blown apart. Wasting no time, Greystoke kicked open the door with his Saiga 12 raised and proceeded to clear the room.

Amid a large amount of lab equipment (tools, scalpels, examination tables, and such) was a group of cringing scientists. To the side were several large cryogenic chambers - each with a living immortal frozen inside. However, they were not even fully grown. They were children no older than twelve or fourteen years of age.

At first, the asylum staff members looked relieved. They had barricaded themselves inside the secure lab in hopes of keeping safe. Greystoke and his group of heavily armed men must have looked like government officials or even heroes who had arrived to save them. However, their looks of relief quickly changed to looks of fear when the Hunter walked up to them - his eyes glowing through the holes in his mask.

In his rage, William's eyes had changed into a feral yellow color. In the darkness, they glowed through his mask like the eyes of a predator in the moonlight. A master of intimidation tactics, the Apex Predator towered above the frightened individuals.

"YOU!" the Hunter roared, grabbing one of the cringing scientists by the throat and lifted him up off the ground. "Open the chambers... NOW!" With that, he literally threw the man across the lab - causing him to knock over an exam table and several pieces of equipment. Before the man could even get to his feet, the Cerebral Assassin seized him by the back of neck and jerked him sharply to his feet. Pressing the man's face up against the cold glass, he ordered him to enter the codes to deactivate and open the chambers.

As the chambers deactivated and opened up, their young occupants each gasped for air as their bodies adjusted to normal temperatures once again. Immediately, five of the armed immortals went over to attend to their younger kin while the remaining five kept their weapons trained on the remaining scientists.

"They've been made weak due to exposure and God knows whatever these pigs have been doing to them...." one of the lycans said. "They need to feed to regain their strength, my lord."

Looking at the young immortals then over to the cowering asylum staff, the Greystoke Legend simply said, "Feed on them..." then watched as the young lycans leaped upon their former captors and ripped them limb from limb.

Once the young ones had their fill, William said, "We need to move to the extraction point soon... Six of you stay here with them... The remaining four will come with me. Once we've cleared a path, I will send two members back to guide the rest of you to the extraction site." Before leaving, he turned to the six immortals who stayed behind and said, "Find what research they have done, document what you can, then destroy it all..."

With that, the Hunter and four of his immortals left the lab and proceeded down the dark corridor. After all, entering chaos was the easy part of their operation. Fighting their way out would be something else entirely...

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#47 Edited by weARElegion (783 posts) - - Show Bio

@warsman: The Horsemen unleashed and ride around spreading their chaos they did. Rage uncontrollable surged through anyone caught around War, parents slaughtering their children for simple mistakes. Famine made gluttony seem like a norm, people were eating craving more and more on the verge to cannibalism. Pestilence made ebola seem like the common cold spreading open sores that leaked a highly acidic puss. Death was merely collecting souls empowering his death magik, he called upon wraiths and other reaper spirits to aid in collection of the dead or living alike.

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"Children go out and seek your claim, this world is ours now, let Death show them the way" says weARElegion.

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"Look well human, for this is your fate!"

Where ever Death goes life force itself dwindles: Elderly, Enfants, Sick, Injured, all first to die amongst his presence.

Let rise to these hollow corpses with darkness from within, raising his skeletal fist. The dead began to stir, and they were ravenous with hunger, plague, and a strength of a horde.

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empowered by the horsemen this zombie horde was not mindless but driven by a lust for flesh and blood. Some even armored and gearing up when they could find other supplies.


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#48 Posted by Ginju (393 posts) - - Show Bio

@reaver_: @lock_n_stock: @timesiphon: @mr_alchemy_:

Tapping his bare foot upon the ground as he slowly watched as a group of individuals came for him, they all had his capture in mind. There eyes spoke volumes and they spoke "Please do not be too difficult" something that brought a wide grin to Ginju's face as he waited and watched. Tapping of his foot became louder and louder as a woman readied her bow and aimed it at him. Raising his chin as if telling her to go ahead, and take the shot. She took her bow down and lowered it, a older man coming out through the group.

He was considerably older than the others, even made the machine behind him stop momentarily from squeaking and making random noises. He barked at Ginju asking for his best, something Ginjyu could only return in kind. Now his foot stopped and in an instant the floor beneath the group turned into liquid almost like quicksand.

Stomping his other foot the ground solidified around them, if they were not quick they would be trapped and would not enjoy his following attack. As he stomped again the floor beneath them snapped like a belt and would send them flying everywhere as spikes burst from the floor out of the concrete. Spikes that would penetrate and eviscerate sailed through the air and at each member of the team along with the older man who would be the first attacked.

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#49 Posted by TimeSiphon (1138 posts) - - Show Bio


Time Siphon drew on her temporal abilities and dramatically increased her speed. Before the sand ground could solidify she was in the air, activating her power armor's anti-gravity mechanisms to levitate several feet above the ground. When the spikes came, her dramatically increased speed and perception allowed her to shift away from the incoming projectiles, though it was closer call than she would have liked to admit. Clear of the initial wave of attacks she didn't bother with her bow but flicked her empty hand at Ginju's feet and a ball of white hot plasma erupted from the palm of her hand in his direction.

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#50 Posted by Vivide (3279 posts) - - Show Bio


"I got you in the sky, gun man" letting loose as she exits Gothic's airspace she extended wings which become one with the clouds, extending her hawk eye's vision to search for the one known as 'The Kid' who is actually not as bad as they say. Andrea acts upon search and rescue, while protecting others who wish to contain the situation. The red sky heralded the flight of the black wyvern wings, that was her. She who treads above the row of thunder.

Acting on a support role and displacing small parts of her to descend onto certain allies (@just_an_average_man) acting as her familiars, sculpting their shapes as they enter ground level to assume her silhouette. Meeting the man on the vantage point to give him the locations of key targets what are accessible from her bird's eye view. It came with some of her usual armaments, handguns and grenades this time.

Upon meeting the man she extended her arm to offer a 'sheathe' of darkness, it is good on stealth as it has certain properties. Low level energy absorption will be helpful in negating the harm of radiation, however direct energy blasts are still dangerous. At least this way her new friend wouldn't worry about cancer or future complication with his organs. Help goes down as she changes her angles to scout further into the building premises.